Free Lara's Gift by Annemarie O'Brien Page A

into the birthing area. “I thought I saw you come in here. You should be helping your mama.”
    “She told me I could visit the dogs.” I saw panic on Papa’s face. “Don’t worry, Bohdan’s quite fine.”
    Papa ranted, but I didn’t hear him. My head ached.
    I quickly turned from Papa to hide my vision and closed my eyes with worry.
    There was Zola giving birth to the pups!
    And then the image faded.
    “Tonight’s the night,” I blurted in excitement.
    I quickly cupped my mouth, wishing I could take back the words.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Papa’s voice sounded scared.
    “Tonight, Zola will give birth.”
    “The pups aren’t due for another week.” Papa looked over at Zola resting peacefully in the fresh golden straw of the birthing stall. She lay flat on her side, her eyesclosed. Her silky-coated chest, painted in golden hues against patches of white, rose and fell gently with each breath. “She’s not showing any signs of labor, either. What makes you think the pups are coming tonight?”
    I edged closer to Papa and rested my chin along the mahogany slabs of the stall. I could hardly blame him for his question. Normally Zola acted much more nervous right before a birth, panting and pacing.
    But Zola was as calm as Zar.
    Could I be wrong about the pups coming tonight?
    In my wondering I could hear Mama’s voice,
Trust, Lara, trust
, and I could see her heart-shaped face, framed by long, dark braids. It was her kind amber eyes I could see most. They were willing me to trust my gift, urging me to speak up.
    Yet the words crawled off my tongue. “I … had … a … vision.”
    Papa’s ruddy cheeks turned white. “Not another word! Do you hear?”
    “I see things,
Tyatya
—I can’t help it!”
    “I told you to get rid of them.” Papa wagged his meaty finger at me.
    “I’ve tried,
Tyatya
.”
    “You didn’t try hard enough,” he said. “You’ve got to ignore them.”
    “Why should I ignore them, when they can help us?”
    Papa harrumphed. “Mistakes are made from decisions based on visions. I can’t let that happen.”
    “Have you ever wondered how I was always the first to inform you of a litter coming? Or when a pup became ill in the night and needed tending?” I asked. “And what about the time when Snigurka got lost chasing a hare? Do you remember who found her,
Tyatya
? Me.”
    “I’ve got to put my faith in the Rules. It’s what I know.”
    The deeper Papa’s words sunk into my thoughts, the more they poked at my heart. “When it comes to the dogs, put your faith in
me
—there will be six or seven pups born tonight. That’s something your Rules can’t tell you.”
    Papa’s eyes brightened, as they always did whenever a big litter was born. The Count often rewarded him with a heap of gold rubles. Not to mention my favorites: black caviar served on silver platters, sour cream brimming from crystal bowls, stacks of warm
blini
wrapped in linen spun from silk, and stuffed suckling pig dressed in horseradish—a symbol of abundance and fertility. To wash it all down, the Count always pulled out his finest bottles of iced champagne for a proper toast.
    “Shhh.” Papa put his finger to his lips. He looked over his shoulder, and then he leaned into me, his face so close to mine.
    “Do you want to live a life like Rasputin?”
    As favored as Rasputin was with the Tsar and his wife,Alexander’s family feared Rasputin had too much influence over the Imperial Family. There were even threats on his life.
    “A life like his would be awful.”
    Papa turned his attention to Zola. He twisted his long black beard, deep in thought. His gaze moved upward to the icon of the Mother with Child that hung above Zola for good luck. It had been hanging in that very spot for hundreds of years—for as long as my ancestors had been breeding borzoi for the Count and his family before him. Papa never stood idle for too long. Yet he studied that icon, as if the answer to all his