Hello, FFFs,
How can it be Friday again already? It was just Friday!
Well, the big news from this week is that the Show-Me state opened up! Maybe not completely and totally like it was before, but we got to go to church on Wednesday night! It was SO nice to see folks again! There were more people than are usually there when there's no Awana or children's church.
This week I've been working on different projects like editing, formatting, planning, and blog posts.
I'm feeling like I have nothing to say this morning. Why, I don't know. It's cloudy, windy, and in the low 50s. I have things to work on, so maybe I'll just let you read this next part of the story.
Beyond the Border
Part 2
That evening Eleanor found one of the older girls alone in the hall. Kate was the closest Eleanor and Catherine had to a friend at the orphanage. “Could you, I mean, would you show me–” She stopped and bit her lip and stared down at her shoes.
“I will if I can,” Kate said. “What do you need?”
Her kind words and manner erased the butterflies in Eleanor’s stomach. “Catherine ripped a tiny hole in her sleeve today, and I don’t know how to mend it.”
Kate smiled. “Why don’t you show it to me.”
When the torn dress was shown, Kate pulled out a small mending basket from under her bed. “This won’t be hard. See, I’ll show you how to fix it.”
Under Kate’s instructions, Eleanor soon had the small rip mended. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome, Eleanor.”
The hot summer sun shone down from a bright blue sky. Puffs of dust rose with each bare foot that slapped the ground in the noisy game of ball. Sheltered in the shady hollow, Eleanor sighed. She was hot even in the shade. If only there was something to do besides watching the others or staring at the old house next door.
“El, why doesn’t Miss Gray come outside and pull more weeds?”
“Maybe it’s too hot.”
Angry shouts drew the girls’ attention to the ball players. A group of boys stood shouting and gesturing. Several girls edged up closer to the tumult, and Eleanor saw Julia arguing with Benji. From the crowd came Alex, holding Victor tightly by the hand. The little boy was crying. They came close to the bushes where the girls were sitting, and stopped.
“Stop crying, Victor. You aren’t too small to play; those guys just want their own way. See,” he held out a ball, “this is my ball, and I’ll teach you how to catch. Now, you stand over here, so if you miss a ball it will get stopped by the bushes, see.”
“I might break a window,” sniffed the little boy, pointing to the house.
“Aw, you can’t throw that far yet. I can’t even throw that far. Besides, I’ll catch your balls. Now dry your eyes and lets get busy before Mrs. Cobell comes out to settle that mess over there.” And he jerked his head toward the heated argument that looked like it might turn into a fight.
Thus urged, Victor, who was only six, scrubbed his face with his hands and nodded. Alex was eleven and one of the older boys, and Victor looked up to him.
Eleanor looked at Catherine and smiled. The boys weren’t too close to their hiding place, but close enough for the girls to enjoy their game of catch. The tumult among the other children was quickly forgotten.
Alex was very patient with the younger boy and started off close to him. Then he moved a little farther away and continued to throw the ball and praise his catches. “You’ll soon catch well enough to be the catcher.”
“Throw me a fancy ball, Alex,” Victor begged. “I know I can catch it now.”
Alex hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure you’re ready for it.”
For answer Victor held his hands out in front of him to catch the ball.
“All right,” Alex laughed. “Here goes.” With that he drew his arm back and let the ball fly. “Oh no.”
His groan almost made Eleanor wish she was out of the bushes and could see what was happening. Then the thud of the ball told her. It had gone over the bushes.
Quickly, without giving herself time to think, she slipped from the hiding spot and into the yard beyond the bushes. The ball lay in the grass a few feet away. Darting forward, she snatched it up and threw it back over the bushes before creeping back into their shelter.
“Hey,” Victor said. “She threw it back!”
Alex had come running over and picked up his ball. “Thank you!” he called.
Eleanor looked at Catherine, and both girls pressed their hands over their mouths to keep back the giggles.
“Come on, Victor,” Alex said, “maybe we’d better do something else for a while.” Together the boys walked away, leaving the bushes to the girls.
When it was safe to talk without being discovered, Catherine whispered, “He’s nice.”
Eleanor nodded and looked toward the silent house. Now that she had ventured once beyond the border, she had a longing to do it again. “I wish we could help Miss Gray weed her flowers.”
“Oh, El, could we?” Catherine loved flowers, and there was not a single one to be had at the orphanage. “Couldn’t we just go pull some weeds? No one told us we couldn’t leave the yard, did they?”
Eleanor thought hard. No, that had never been a rule. “Miss Stroder said we weren’t to leave the yard alone.”
At that Catherine’s face lit up. “Could we do some now?”
“I don’t know. What if the bell rings and we are over there? We might not make it back without someone noticing where we came from. But perhaps we can tomorrow. And maybe Miss Gray will be there, and we can ask her if we can help.”
With that Catherine had to be satisfied, but she couldn’t help remarking almost to herself, “It would be fun to weed the flowers and not let her know who did it.”
Their chores were light the next morning, and the two girls slipped outside and over to their special bushes before it was too warm. They expected to see Miss Gray outside, for it was cooler, and clouds stretched lazily across the sky. But she wasn’t there.
Almost timidly, Eleanor crept out and looked around. No one was to be seen, and she motioned to her sister. “Maybe she went away for a few days,” she whispered.
Hand in hand, the girls crossed the yard, their bare feet marveling at the feel of grass instead of dirt and rocks. Reaching the flower garden near the wide porch, the girls stopped and looked around. All was quiet and still in the yard. No curtains moved in the windows, and the two young orphans squeezed hands.
“I will if I can,” Kate said. “What do you need?”
Her kind words and manner erased the butterflies in Eleanor’s stomach. “Catherine ripped a tiny hole in her sleeve today, and I don’t know how to mend it.”
Kate smiled. “Why don’t you show it to me.”
When the torn dress was shown, Kate pulled out a small mending basket from under her bed. “This won’t be hard. See, I’ll show you how to fix it.”
Under Kate’s instructions, Eleanor soon had the small rip mended. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome, Eleanor.”
*
The hot summer sun shone down from a bright blue sky. Puffs of dust rose with each bare foot that slapped the ground in the noisy game of ball. Sheltered in the shady hollow, Eleanor sighed. She was hot even in the shade. If only there was something to do besides watching the others or staring at the old house next door.
“El, why doesn’t Miss Gray come outside and pull more weeds?”
“Maybe it’s too hot.”
Angry shouts drew the girls’ attention to the ball players. A group of boys stood shouting and gesturing. Several girls edged up closer to the tumult, and Eleanor saw Julia arguing with Benji. From the crowd came Alex, holding Victor tightly by the hand. The little boy was crying. They came close to the bushes where the girls were sitting, and stopped.
“Stop crying, Victor. You aren’t too small to play; those guys just want their own way. See,” he held out a ball, “this is my ball, and I’ll teach you how to catch. Now, you stand over here, so if you miss a ball it will get stopped by the bushes, see.”
“I might break a window,” sniffed the little boy, pointing to the house.
“Aw, you can’t throw that far yet. I can’t even throw that far. Besides, I’ll catch your balls. Now dry your eyes and lets get busy before Mrs. Cobell comes out to settle that mess over there.” And he jerked his head toward the heated argument that looked like it might turn into a fight.
Thus urged, Victor, who was only six, scrubbed his face with his hands and nodded. Alex was eleven and one of the older boys, and Victor looked up to him.
Eleanor looked at Catherine and smiled. The boys weren’t too close to their hiding place, but close enough for the girls to enjoy their game of catch. The tumult among the other children was quickly forgotten.
Alex was very patient with the younger boy and started off close to him. Then he moved a little farther away and continued to throw the ball and praise his catches. “You’ll soon catch well enough to be the catcher.”
“Throw me a fancy ball, Alex,” Victor begged. “I know I can catch it now.”
Alex hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure you’re ready for it.”
For answer Victor held his hands out in front of him to catch the ball.
“All right,” Alex laughed. “Here goes.” With that he drew his arm back and let the ball fly. “Oh no.”
His groan almost made Eleanor wish she was out of the bushes and could see what was happening. Then the thud of the ball told her. It had gone over the bushes.
Quickly, without giving herself time to think, she slipped from the hiding spot and into the yard beyond the bushes. The ball lay in the grass a few feet away. Darting forward, she snatched it up and threw it back over the bushes before creeping back into their shelter.
“Hey,” Victor said. “She threw it back!”
Alex had come running over and picked up his ball. “Thank you!” he called.
Eleanor looked at Catherine, and both girls pressed their hands over their mouths to keep back the giggles.
“Come on, Victor,” Alex said, “maybe we’d better do something else for a while.” Together the boys walked away, leaving the bushes to the girls.
When it was safe to talk without being discovered, Catherine whispered, “He’s nice.”
Eleanor nodded and looked toward the silent house. Now that she had ventured once beyond the border, she had a longing to do it again. “I wish we could help Miss Gray weed her flowers.”
“Oh, El, could we?” Catherine loved flowers, and there was not a single one to be had at the orphanage. “Couldn’t we just go pull some weeds? No one told us we couldn’t leave the yard, did they?”
Eleanor thought hard. No, that had never been a rule. “Miss Stroder said we weren’t to leave the yard alone.”
At that Catherine’s face lit up. “Could we do some now?”
“I don’t know. What if the bell rings and we are over there? We might not make it back without someone noticing where we came from. But perhaps we can tomorrow. And maybe Miss Gray will be there, and we can ask her if we can help.”
With that Catherine had to be satisfied, but she couldn’t help remarking almost to herself, “It would be fun to weed the flowers and not let her know who did it.”
*
Their chores were light the next morning, and the two girls slipped outside and over to their special bushes before it was too warm. They expected to see Miss Gray outside, for it was cooler, and clouds stretched lazily across the sky. But she wasn’t there.
Almost timidly, Eleanor crept out and looked around. No one was to be seen, and she motioned to her sister. “Maybe she went away for a few days,” she whispered.
Hand in hand, the girls crossed the yard, their bare feet marveling at the feel of grass instead of dirt and rocks. Reaching the flower garden near the wide porch, the girls stopped and looked around. All was quiet and still in the yard. No curtains moved in the windows, and the two young orphans squeezed hands.
How was your week?
Would you go pull weeds in someone else's garden?
Have you ever had a secret hiding place in a bush?
HOORAY!! Congratulations on being FREE!!! (Well, more so at least ;))
ReplyDeleteMy week was okay! We started school back up since we do it year-round, so it's been interesting with a new schedule and harder classes. ;) It should get better as we go, though. :)
I'm not sure if I'd weed someone else's garden. It depends on the situation, but I don't necessarily enjoy weeding. :P
I've hid in bushes before while playing tag or something, but not like the girls' spot. ;) It sounds like fun, though!
Yes, it was SO nice to get out!
ReplyDeleteAh, yes, harder school is just . . . harder. ;) I'm sure you'll settle in.
I don't mind weeding if it's not too hot out.
Thanks for commenting!