Free Lara's Gift by Annemarie O'Brien

the pail filled with Mama’s scraps. I took another sheet of paper, and then another, and another. All of them ended up in crumpled balls with Mama’s scraps. Every dress I had drawn looked like a sack. None of my designs would have impressed the Countess, of that I was certain.
    One by one Mama picked through my papers and flattened them out. “Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s difficult work. Try closing your eyes. Let the pen take you where it wants to go,” Mama suggested.
    I closed my eyes and loosened my grip on the pen. My hand moved with ease and a certain calm came to me.
    “Let me have a look.” Mama took the paper into her hands. “Is this what came to you—a borzoi?”
    Just then, my temples pounded.
    I pressed my fingers against the pain and closed my eyes.
    There were Zola and Zar snuggled in the soft straw, coddling six pups. Or was it seven? The white pup—a female—faded in and out.
    Something in the way the pup faded in and out made me worry.
    “Larochka, are you all right?”
    “I’m concerned about one of Zola’s pups.”
    “Did she have them already?” Mama’s voice sounded surprised.
    “Well … um … no, I don’t think so.” I didn’t know what to say and stopped.
    Mama looked at me, puzzled. “You’re scaring me, Lara. What’s wrong?”
    “It’s nothing,” I lied.
    And then Mama’s eyes grew big. “You had a vision, didn’t you?”
    The concern in her voice was like a magical key that broke down a door that I thought had been sealed shut. “I’m sick about it. I promised Papa I would get rid of them.”
    “Have you been having them all along?” Mama asked.
    I nodded in shame.
    “You should have told us. I thought they had stopped coming to you,” Mama said. “Well, that changes everything in my mind. You must live the life that God has chosen for you. Your papa and I shall adjust to God’s will.”
    “Adjust? If Papa finds out that I’m still having visions, he’ll
never
let me near the dogs again. And I belong with them. It’s what I know.”
    “That’s becoming clear to me. I wish I had known,”
    Mama said. She glanced down at my sketch of a borzoi. “You need to tell your papa.”
    “I can’t,
Matushka
. I’m afraid,” I said. “You saw how he reacted the first time I had a vision.”
    “Then you must find a way to prove him wrong.”
    “How?” I asked.
    Mama’s face bunched up in thought. “Trust in God. Through your gift he’ll show you the way.”
    Just then, Bohdan fidgeted. His tiny lips opened and closed like a newborn pup rooting for milk.
    “Who’ll help you with Bohdan?”
    “I’ll make do.” Mama picked up Bohdan, gently kissed his cheeks, and then prepared to nurse him. “I come from hardy stock, remember?”
    With any luck her hardy stock lived in me, too. I would need it to prove Papa wrong.

CHAPTER EIGHT
 
    The Bet
    Just as I bundled up in my sheepskin coat and fur hat, eager to be reunited with the dogs, I heard scratching at the studio door. When I opened it, Zar bounded inside, circled me, and then leaned against my legs, looking up at me with happy eyes. I got down and hugged my arms around him, stroking and petting him, like it was the first time I ever saw a dog. I ran my fingers through his curls and checked the wound on his neck. And just like Alexander had said, it had healed.
    “Zar’s coming is a sign,” Mama said.
    The thought gave me strength.
    “
Davai
, we must hurry and check on Zola,” I said to him.
    We raced outside through the deep snow in the directionof the kennel, past the wooden chapel and its bell tower. When we reached the kennel, we sped past the stalls lined with lounging borzoi. I found Zola tucked in the corner of the birthing stall where I had left her, quietly resting on a bed of straw. Zar bounded over to her and nibbled gently on her ears and along her neck. She rolled in closer to him and grunted.
    Just as I settled next to Zola a slight headache formed, and then Papa barged