Glass Slippers [1st Draft]

1. Mother

Chapter One:

Mother

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Her father paced, causing the floorboards in the upstairs hallway to creak with his every step, alerting Clara to the fact that he was more worried than he let on when she'd asked earlier. She couldn't blame him. She'd done the same thing in front of her younger sisters. Sometimes it was easier to simply say that everything was fine, even if it wasn't.

Clara listened to the sounds of her father's creaking footsteps as well as the soft murmur of her younger sisters' quiet breathing in their respective beds. Yet, even with all those sounds to distract her, she could still hear the moans of pain coming from her parents' room. Her mother had gone into labor just after lunch and was still in the throes of childbirth nine hours later.

Between Clara and her Father, Clara wasn't sure which of them was more tightly wound. The separate births of Harriet and Amelia, Clara's little sisters, hadn't taken as long as nine hours, and Clara was more than a little worried that there might be complications. Even if the midwife and the doctor assured her that everything was fine.

Although she was worried out of her mind over her mother's health and she hated how her mother had to feel the obvious pain of giving birth, Clara still looked forward to being an older sister for the third time.

Clara's ears twitched as she registered the sounds coming from her parents' room getting louder, but instead of the blood-curdling scream she had been dreading, a foreign cry pierced the air, and a happy smile flashed onto her face as she recognized it as the sound of a newborn baby's first cry.

Clara felt more than heard the stirring of her younger sisters in their beds nearby, and she stilled, not wanting to wake them. After all, the only reason why she was in her sisters' room was for them not to be scared and to distract them from the noises across the hall. She wouldn't be doing her job as older sister right if she let them wake up now before she was sure everything was alright.

She waited for a few minutes before getting out of bed as quick as she could. Listening for the sounds of Amelia and Harriet's breathing patterns evening out, she did her best to put on her dressing gown and pull on her slippers without making a single noise. Even the soft rustling that resulted felt too loud. Soon enough, her sisters resumed their restful sleep and she made her way over to the door that lead to the hallway.

In the soft candlelight the maids had lit despite the late hour, Clara could see that the hall was empty, her father having already gone inside to see his wife. The bedroom door squeaked and she paused, glancing back at the faces of her two sleeping sisters.

Harriet was snuggled against a teddy bear, her six-year-old arms draped over the stuffed animal, while Amelia was sucking quietly on two of her fingers. Clara gave a sigh of relief. They hadn't woken.

Slipping out of their bedroom completely, Clara padded as silent as a mouse to her parents' door, the sound of hushed voices drifting to her ears through the ajar door. Standing in front of it, Clara could just see into the room, taking in the form of her father huddled close to the bed.

Her foot then gave a hesitant step onto a squeaky floorboard and through the crack in the door, she saw her mother's head raise to look at the door hiding Clara from the direct line of sight.

"Clara, we know you're there, darling," her mother called, voice a margin above a whisper. "Come in, sweetheart, come meet your little brother." Clara opened the door, mindful to the maids, midwife, and her baby brother who seemed to already be asleep in her mother's arms.