Dylan's Story - Part 6

Hello FFFs,
Are you still around? Probably lurking in cyber space, right? 😉 I don't know if this story will be able to pull you out of hiding or not. We'll try it though.

This has been a good but busy week. I've gotten a lot of work done on the Bike Trip project I'm working on, and on listening to the audios of two of my books. I'm hoping to have both TCR-2 and "The Unexpected Request" on audio by Christmas. Wouldn't that be fun? Writing has rather taken a back seat this week. I wanted to write, but I haven't been reading enough to enable me to really write well. Though last night I did get 1,000 words written in 50 minutes. I haven't written that much all month! And, in case you are wondering, it was on a Christmas story. 😊


Have you all gotten winter weather yet? Yesterday it was in the low 80s and very windy. Today it's supposed to drop to the mid to low 40s. Such strange weather.

Now I'm going to let you read more of Dylan, Fern and the Woods. You can read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and part 5 here.

Dylan's Story

Part 6

    The sun was peeking through the clouds when Dylan woke up the next morning. The house was still and quiet, and for a moment he lay blinking, trying to remember what day it was. Today was Saturday. Quickly scrambling from his bed, he hurried to the window. Sometime during the night or early morning the rain had stopped, but the ground was covered with puddles, and water still dripped from the branches of the trees when the wind shook them. A glance at the clock showed him that it was nearly eight o’clock.
    “I wonder if Fern is up yet,” he mused, getting dressed hurriedly and making his bed. After putting away his pajamas, Dylan picked up his shoes and tiptoed into the hall.
    The door to his sister’s room stood wide open and he peeked in. With a slight frown, he turned and headed for the stairs. The smell of bacon and–something sweet–he couldn’t tell what, was making his stomach rumble. On the bottom step he sat down and put on his shoes. He could hear his younger sister’s voice chattering in the kitchen.
    “Well, good morning, Dylan,” a voice sounded nearby.
    Dylan looked up. “Good morning, sir.” Quickly he tied the other shoe and stood up. “Is there anything I can do?”
    Scott Wood shook his head. “Not before breakfast. From the smell of things I’d say it was about ready. You hungry?”
    Dylan nodded.
    Just then Mrs. Wood stepped into the hall. “Breakfast is ready. Good morning, Dylan. You got up just in time, I see. Would you like orange juice, milk, or water?”

    Soon everyone was seated at the table. Dylan’s mouth watered at the sight of the skillet of scrambled eggs, the plate of bacon, and the pan of large cinnamon rolls from which the steam was still rising and the icing was melting. After the blessing had been asked, Scott began filling the plates.
    “I want that big one right there,” Fern told him, pointing to one of the largest rolls that sat in the middle of the pan.
    “Can you eat that much?” Scott asked, glancing at Dylan.
    “Her eyes are always bigger than her stomach,” he murmured.
    “I’ll tell you what,” Scott said, placing a slightly smaller cinnamon roll on the plate, “if you’re still hungry after you’ve eaten everything else, you can have more.” He scooped up some eggs. “Do you want a lot of eggs or a little bit?”
    Resting her elbows on the table, Fern shook her head. “I don’t want any. I just want the cinnamon roll.”
    Dylan frowned and cleared his throat, trying to get his sister to look at him. He wished she wouldn’t be so demanding and rude. He also knew what she would be like if all she ate was sugar for breakfast.
    Autumn’s quiet voice broke into the conversation. “Fern, I want you to eat a few eggs and a piece of bacon along with your cinnamon roll. You are going to need something substantial if you are going to go out and see the horses this morning.”
    But Fern’s lower lip came out. “I don’t like eggs, and I only want the cinnamon roll,” she said.
    Dylan saw the looks exchanged between Mr. and Mrs. Wood, though he couldn’t catch their meaning. So much for a nice start to the day. It seemed that no matter which way things went there would be trouble.
    Scott put a small helping of eggs and one piece of bacon on the plate and handed it to Fern. “It takes a lot of good food to make you able to help with the horses.” Then he quickly filled another plate and passed it down to his wife before turning to Dylan. “How hungry are you?”
    “Hungry.”
    Giving a chuckle, Scott heaped the plate and passed it over. “Think you can eat all that?”
    Eyeing the pile before him, Dylan picked up his fork. “I can sure try.”
    Several minutes passed as everyone focused on their breakfast. Then Fern broke the silence. “I want that other cinnamon roll now.”
    “You can have more after you finish what’s on your plate,” Scott told her calmly after a glance at her plate.
    “But I don’t like eggs,” whined the girl.
    “You do too,” Dylan whispered, glaring at his sister.
    She ignored him and repeated her statement, giving a sniff at the end for effect.
    To Dylan’s astonishment, neither Mr. Wood nor his wife seemed to even notice Fern’s complaint. Anxiously he watched his sister while continuing to eat. For a full minute Fern whimpered about not liking eggs, but when no one paid any attention to her, she folded her arms.
    “I want another cinnamon roll.”
    “You may have one as soon as you’ve finished the eggs and piece of bacon that are on your plate.” Mr. Wood took a bite of his crisp bacon. “Hmm. Autumn, is this from that smoked stuff we got last week?” he asked.
    His wife nodded. “I thought we should try it, and I think I like it better than what we have been getting.”
    “So do I. What do you think of it, Dylan?”
    With his mouth full, Dylan could only nod emphatically. He didn’t know what the other bacon had tasted like, but he knew what he was eating was better than any he had ever had.
    “Give me another cinnamon roll!”
    “Fern,” Mrs. Wood said, “you have been told you have to eat what’s on your plate first.”
    “I’m not going to!”
    “It will taste better warm.”
    “I won’t eat it!”
    “Then you may have it for lunch.”
    Nearly choking on his food, Dylan stared at the woman sitting calmly at the foot of the table. Was she crazy? Fern would never stand for something like that! Always before, Fern had been yielded to if she persisted long enough in what she wanted.
    The long moment of silence ended abruptly when Fern burst into loud crying.

Do you usually have to eat everything on your plate before seconds?

Do you want more of this story?

What kind of weather have you had lately?