It'd never work. It was a stupid idea. He was a cat. People in tenth-century France had thought he was weird. How would he ever pass in twentieth-century America? Or twentieth-century France for that matter? He'd have no family, no personal history, no education. What could she say:
Look what followed me home, Mom. Can I keep him?
It was totally ridiculous. The problems were insurmountable.
She looked at the well.
She looked at Oliver.
She smiled.
Then again, she thought, what could she do but cross her fingers and hope for the best?
She leaned over the well and wished.