"I know, I know. I just want to look at her."
Claire focused harder, heard the small grunting breaths of the baby. She concentrated on the sound. Listened for something. Anything. There was a pause, a tiny gasp, and then a mewling wail as the baby began to cry.
Startled, Claire lost focus and was suddenly very alone in the silence of the clearing.
Crap.
By the time she managed to hear Victoria again, the crying had stopped. The baby was still breathing a hitching sort of breath that sounded less than calm, though.
"Maybe she's hungry?"
Claire could hear Victoria's voice, but it sounded fainter, farther away. The baby's breath rang in her ears, so new, so full of meaning, even though she was still wordless. It was as though she was nothing more than the air that puffed in and out of her just-born body.
As the sound surrounded Claire, an idea drifted into her mind.
If her breath was all the baby had, why not name her after it?
The rightness of it settled over her. Victoria couldn't just use the word breath. It wasn't even a name. It was something Lisbeth would name a kid. But she could look up some name meanings, find something that fit.
Suddenly excited about the possibility of actually being able to help Victoria, Claire changed back into her human form, gasping as the cold air caught at her before she managed to get her clothes back on. As quickly as she could, she walked back to the house, carefully erasing her tracks as she went.
She slipped in the back door and stood leaning against it, listening hard to the noises of the house. She didn't hear anything at first, but then the furnace kicked off and there was a soft click-tap from the depths of the house, somewhere in the vicinity of Marie's darkroom.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut and made a silent run for her room.
When the door was safely closed behind her and she'd changed her clothes to get rid of the snow smell, Claire grabbed her phone.
One missed call. Crap.
Matthew'd left a short, call-me-back sort of message, but it was already nearly one o'clock in the morning—she'd been in the woods longer than she'd intended, and it was way too late to call him back now. She'd have to try him back in the morning. Kicking herself again for forgetting her phone, Claire sat down in front of her computer. At least she could finish the stuff for the naming. She pulled up a couple of baby-name websites.
In no time at all, she found exactly what she was looking for. The name hummed at the tip of her tongue, begging her to say it.
Chapter Fifteen
IN SPITE OF her late night, Claire woke early the next morning, too excited and edgy to sleep in. Emily and Amy would be at her house after lunch, along with Lisbeth, who'd been all too happy to agree to run the predance hair-andmakeup show.
But it was only a matter of hours until everyone showed up, and Claire had a lot to do before they got there. She'd need clothes to change into after the dance, since she couldn't exactly go traipsing into the woods in a gown. She dug through her closet, scrounged up an old duffel bag, and stuck some dark sweats and running shoes into it.
Marie knocked on her open door just as Claire was tugging the zipper closed.
"What is that for?" she asked, looking at the bag.
"It's clothes for the gathering. I can't wear my dress in the woods." Claire stared at the confused look on her mother's face. She couldn't quite figure out what Marie was thinking—why she seemed so mystified. A horrible feeling gathered in her throat. It was like stepping into a lake that was vastly colder and infinitely deeper than she'd expected it to be.
"You are still going to the dance?" her mother asked. "I thought we'd discussed that. The naming is tonight." An odd little frown puckered her lips.
Claire could barely hear over the pounding in her ears. "I know. But not until later. I have time to do both."
Marie crossed her arms. "The naming is extremely important." So is the Autumn Ball.
Not that her mother seemed to notice—not that she seemed to care.
"There is much to set up for tonight. I still need to find some ginseng, the wood is not ready for your fire—"
The mention of the fire was enough to send a tingle through Claire's still-whole left ear. She knew how to light it—could do it like breathing—but there was so much at stake. . . .
Marie shook her head. "I had hoped you might help me, but if you cannot or will not abandon this"—she paused— "event, then I will do it on my own." Her mother sighed. "Lisbeth is coming over, I suppose?"
Claire swallowed. "Yes. She's going to help me and Emily and Amy get ready."