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Authors: Becky Lee Weyrich
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escaped when she was upset or wanted to be alone.
The northern lights had faded and the stars in the velvet night sky blurred as she gazed up through her tears. She gripped the railing, not feeling the numbness creeping into her ungloved hands.
“Why, Europa, why?” she cried. “You can have any man. Why Zack?”
But she knew why. It had been so between them all their lives. Whatever Persia got, her sister must have the same whether she honestly desired it or not. Suddenly Persia remembered the black-and-white puppy, and tears flooded her eyes.
She had found the half-starved mutt wandering down Main Street. Some rough boys were throwing stones at the poor creature. Europa had stood on the sidelines, urging them on in their meanness. Persia’s heart had nearly broken at the sad, helpless look in the little dog’s eyes. Throwing caution and fear for her own safety to the wind, she had rushed out into the street and shielded the mongrel pup with her own body. For her efforts, she had received a nasty cut on her forehead from a stone and a bruise on her arm from a stick Europa herself had hurled. But she had claimed the dog for her own and received his affectionate licks of gratitude.
When she took him home, her mother had grudgingly agreed to let him stay. Persia had immediately named him Salty, fed him a bowl of milk and meat scraps, and made him a bed behind the kitchen stove.
When Europa arrived home, her eyes held that hard glitter Persia had learned to read so well.
“That’s my dog!” Europa had told their mother. “I found him and Persia stole him from me.”
Victoria Whiddington had looked surprised. “But my dear, you don’t care at all for animals. Why would you collect such a poor stray?”
“Just because,” Europa had answered in that high-and-mighty tone of hers.
“Well, he’ll be our family pet,” Victoria had answered, playing the role of peacemaker.
“Very well, I’ll share,” Europa had answered smugly. “Persia, you may feed Fido, bathe him, and take care of him. But just remember, he’s really my dog!”
“His name’s not Fido! It’s Salty!” Persia had raged.
“Girls, girls! If this animal is going to cause trouble, we’ll just get rid of him this minute.”
For the time being, Europa had held her peace and the dog stayed. Persia had taken great pains to care for her Salty; she’d loved him dearly. She’d taken him for walks, bathed him in the wooden tub, and smuggled him choice cuts of meat from the dining room table. Dog and child were inseparable.
Then one morning when Persia had hurried down to the kitchen, she’d found Salty’s box empty. Frantically, she’d dashed about the house and then the yard, calling him by both his names, but there’d been no sign of him. She’d ran up to Europa’s room to enlist her aid in the search and found her sister still abed.
“Get up quickly! Salty’s gone!”
Europa had stretched, yawned, and bestowed a condescending smile on her. “If you are referring to Fido, I know. And there’s no need searching for him. I gave him away.”
“Gave him away?” Persia had stood at the foot of her sister’s sleigh bed, stricken, feeling her heart crumble. “How could you?”
Europa had answered her with a shrug. “He wasn’t a very good dog. I never liked him that much. So I traded him to a peddler passing through town yesterday for a new pink hair ribbon. He’s long gone by now. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some more sleep, Persia. Please close the door on your way out.”
Persia could still feel that emptiness in her heart—the place where love had been before it was snatched away. But it wasn’t a black-and-white-spotted pup in question this time. It was a man—the man Persia wanted.
Drying her tears with a furious swipe of her cold hand, Persia whirled toward the ladder. There would be no more sighing and crying in dark corners. Her sister had taken from her for the last time.
“Europa wants battle?
The northern lights had faded and the stars in the velvet night sky blurred as she gazed up through her tears. She gripped the railing, not feeling the numbness creeping into her ungloved hands.
“Why, Europa, why?” she cried. “You can have any man. Why Zack?”
But she knew why. It had been so between them all their lives. Whatever Persia got, her sister must have the same whether she honestly desired it or not. Suddenly Persia remembered the black-and-white puppy, and tears flooded her eyes.
She had found the half-starved mutt wandering down Main Street. Some rough boys were throwing stones at the poor creature. Europa had stood on the sidelines, urging them on in their meanness. Persia’s heart had nearly broken at the sad, helpless look in the little dog’s eyes. Throwing caution and fear for her own safety to the wind, she had rushed out into the street and shielded the mongrel pup with her own body. For her efforts, she had received a nasty cut on her forehead from a stone and a bruise on her arm from a stick Europa herself had hurled. But she had claimed the dog for her own and received his affectionate licks of gratitude.
When she took him home, her mother had grudgingly agreed to let him stay. Persia had immediately named him Salty, fed him a bowl of milk and meat scraps, and made him a bed behind the kitchen stove.
When Europa arrived home, her eyes held that hard glitter Persia had learned to read so well.
“That’s my dog!” Europa had told their mother. “I found him and Persia stole him from me.”
Victoria Whiddington had looked surprised. “But my dear, you don’t care at all for animals. Why would you collect such a poor stray?”
“Just because,” Europa had answered in that high-and-mighty tone of hers.
“Well, he’ll be our family pet,” Victoria had answered, playing the role of peacemaker.
“Very well, I’ll share,” Europa had answered smugly. “Persia, you may feed Fido, bathe him, and take care of him. But just remember, he’s really my dog!”
“His name’s not Fido! It’s Salty!” Persia had raged.
“Girls, girls! If this animal is going to cause trouble, we’ll just get rid of him this minute.”
For the time being, Europa had held her peace and the dog stayed. Persia had taken great pains to care for her Salty; she’d loved him dearly. She’d taken him for walks, bathed him in the wooden tub, and smuggled him choice cuts of meat from the dining room table. Dog and child were inseparable.
Then one morning when Persia had hurried down to the kitchen, she’d found Salty’s box empty. Frantically, she’d dashed about the house and then the yard, calling him by both his names, but there’d been no sign of him. She’d ran up to Europa’s room to enlist her aid in the search and found her sister still abed.
“Get up quickly! Salty’s gone!”
Europa had stretched, yawned, and bestowed a condescending smile on her. “If you are referring to Fido, I know. And there’s no need searching for him. I gave him away.”
“Gave him away?” Persia had stood at the foot of her sister’s sleigh bed, stricken, feeling her heart crumble. “How could you?”
Europa had answered her with a shrug. “He wasn’t a very good dog. I never liked him that much. So I traded him to a peddler passing through town yesterday for a new pink hair ribbon. He’s long gone by now. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some more sleep, Persia. Please close the door on your way out.”
Persia could still feel that emptiness in her heart—the place where love had been before it was snatched away. But it wasn’t a black-and-white-spotted pup in question this time. It was a man—the man Persia wanted.
Drying her tears with a furious swipe of her cold hand, Persia whirled toward the ladder. There would be no more sighing and crying in dark corners. Her sister had taken from her for the last time.
“Europa wants battle?
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