Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure Read Free Page A

“Oh Sigmund, you are too kind. You will find her in the kitchen. She has been quite the helper today.” Looking at the package he held, she asked, “What did you bring her this time?”
     
    “It is a surprise; you’ll see soon enough.” He smiled, turned towards the kitchen and said over his shoulder, “If you would excuse me for a moment, my niece awaits.”
     
    The kitchen was warm and smelled of some kind of chicken dish. Pot pie? Sigmund thought – his favorite. Sitting at the table was Sarah, his twelve year old niece. She had long, blonde hair, a heart shaped face like her mother, and a huge smile at seeing her uncle – what Sigmund considered The Impossible Smile.
     
    “Uncle Sigmund!” she cried with delight but did not get up to hug him – she never got up to hug him, not for lack of desire, but for lack of ability. Since birth, her legs did not work. This condition made her constant joy, her happy smile seem impossible.
     
    There were not many things that Sigmund truly hated, but he hated that his niece was in this condition. The unfairness of it all. But her ability to not let this ailment dominate her was nothing short of amazing. The Impossible Smile, the smile of his niece despite all her hardships. Sigmund didn’t talk of it with her, not wanting to draw attention to her condition, but he felt it deeply. Despite the pain he felt, he was proud of her and humbled by her attitude.
     
    Sigmund walked over and kneeled next to her at the table so they could hug. Every embrace nearly brought tears to Sigmund’s eyes. This beautiful girl, so smart, so funny, so full of life, but limited with this physical ailment. What he wouldn’t give to help her. How many doctors had she visited, medicines tried – all to no avail. He loved her dearly, and long ago concluded that he would do anything to make her happy.
     
    “I brought you something. But,” Sigmund continued teasingly, “I’m not sure you are old enough for it…”
     
    “Uncle! I’m nearly thirteen years old. I’m old enough to know that you are going to give me the gift and that you are just teasing me.” She gave him a satisfied look, knowing that she had bested him.
     
    Sigmund laughed, “My dear Sarah, you are correct. I will have to make a better case next time. It’s not fun teasing you if I can’t make you believe my lies.” Sigmund took the package from under his arm and placed it on the table in front of her.
     
    With delicate fingers she lifted the wrapped present and turned it around examining its papered exterior closely with her large brown eyes. Sigmund loved her inquisitive mind, a trait that Jamison no doubt fostered. With the outside fully examined, she then hefted the package to get a feel for the weight. She finally declared, “Clearly a book of some sort.”
     
    Sigmund nodded. She continued, “But the size and weight is on the small side. That eliminates Dickens, thank goodness.” She smiled and Sigmund laughed. She thought Dickens’ stories were brilliant but his writing style was not one that she enjoyed.
     
    Sarah furrowed her brow for a moment and finally said, “There are too many possibilities, I give up.” And started to unwrap the present. Despite her previously analytical approach, she tore through the wrapping paper voraciously, tossing pieces of paper all around her. Once unwrapped, she held the book in hand and read the title out loud, “ The Hound of the Baskervilles , by Arthur Conan Doyle! Oh Uncle! I love it!”
     
    Sigmund knew she would. Her mother had refused to allow her to read the story as it was released in the Strand throughout the previous year, but now it had been novelized and she was a year older. Sigmund didn’t check with Alexis first – counting on her forgiving nature to overcome any indiscretion he might have caused.
     
    With Sarah’s days generally limited to her bed or a chair, she found ways to keep occupied – playing music, crocheting, and what she loved