Good morning, Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
This morning is cloudy. It's sprinkled a little, but the birds are still singing. It rained Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The fun finally came out Wednesday evening, and then it was out most of yesterday. Yay! But now we get clouds and rain again for today and tomorrow. Anyone have a boat? We might need it. ;)
This week started out very nice. We went to my brother's on Saturday and got to enjoy time with them. Then on Sunday we went to church!!!! Oh, it was wonderful to see people again! Yes, we'd seen some of them last Wednesday, but not everyone.
I've been working on Secret Project this week. I have the cover for Book 1 done. And no, I'm not going to show it to you . . . yet. Book 1 is also formatted. Book 2 is ready to be formatted and the cover finished. I'm back to writing the prequel. My original thought was to have it be 5k words. But it wasn't working. Sorry, you'll have to settle for longer. ;) I can't wait to share these stories with you all! If any of you are possibly interested in helping spread the word about these later, just let me know.
Here are you weekly hints.
- Aunt Bertha is in there! She plays a more prominent role in Book 1, but she's in Book 2.
- I got to use my Montgomery Ward catalogue. :)
Okay, here is part 3 of this story. I hope you enjoy it.
Beyond the Border
Part 3
“Only pull what you know are weeds, Catherine,” Eleanor reminded. “We don’t want to pull up any flowers by mistake.”
Catherine nodded and knelt in the grass. “Smell them, El; they smell like . . . home.” And she buried her nose in a pansy.
“I know.” Eleanor quietly began pulling weeds as she blinked back tears at the thought of Mama. No matter where they had lived or where they had traveled, Mama always had a pot of pansies.
It was exciting to see the garden take on a neat and tidy appearance. The longer they worked, the more nimble their fingers became at pulling only the weeds. Soon the flowers were freed from the weeds and given more space to breathe and grow. The weeds were piled in a heap, and at last Eleanor sat back to wipe her hot face.
“It looks so much better, Catherine.”
“Uh huh. Can we start on another one?”
But Eleanor shook her head. “No, we should get back and sit in the shade a little while, or someone will notice how hot we are.”
“What do we do with the weeds?”
That was a puzzle. Eleanor remembered Miss Gray had put the weeds in a basket, but what she did with them after that, she didn’t know. “Let’s put them in the hole under the porch. They can’t grow there.”
Quickly the girls stuffed the weeds through the lattice and then scurried back to the bordering bushes. Both were red faced and damp from sweat, and four hands were dirty. But the flower garden looked lovely.
The next day there was only a little time to slip through the bushes and pull weeds in another garden. Once again there was no sign of Miss Gray.
“What if she’s sick, Eleanor?” Catherine asked on the third day. “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t come outside.”
Eleanor gave no reply but pulled a few more weeds in silence. Stopping, she sat back on her heels and looked at the house. There was no sign of life. “Maybe–” she hesitated and looked all around. “Maybe I should knock on the door.”
Catherine gasped.
“She probably isn’t home.” Though she said the words as firmly as possible, there was a slight quiver to her words. “If we don’t see her tomorrow, I’ll knock. But Catherine, we should see if we see any light in the windows at night.”
Suddenly both girls turned their heads and looked above the bushes to the orphanage. It had never occurred to them that someone looking out of the girls’ room on the second floor could see right over the bushes and into Miss Gray’s yard.
Neither one spoke.
Should they go back to their hiding place and stay there day after day? Should they knock on the door and find out if Miss Gray was all right? What should they do?
“Come on.” Eleanor beckoned to her sister and slipped away from the house and behind the shelter of a lilac bush which would shield them from anyone looking out the orphanage windows. “Catherine,” she said soberly, “we’ve forgotten something.”
Catherine started to look around, as though wondering what had been forgotten.
“We’ve forgotten to pray.”
“No, we haven’t,” protested the younger girl. “We pray before we go to bed, and Mrs. Cobell prays at meal times.”
“I don’t mean that.” Eleanor gently stroked a green leave on the bush. “I mean like we used to pray before Mama died. About everything. We didn’t pray about coming over and helping Miss Gray, but I think we should pray now.”
Catherine nodded at once.
Together the sisters knelt in the grass, folded their hands and bowed their heads.
“Dear Jesus,” Eleanor began, “we’re sorry for not asking You if we should come here and help Miss Gray before. You said we are to take care of the widows, though I don’t know if Miss Gray is a widow, but she’s all alone. But we also don’t want to get in trouble for helping. And we don’t know if Miss Gray is sick or not. Please help us know what to do.”
“And Jesus,” Catherine added, “if Miss Gray is sick, please don’t let her be sick like Mama was because . . . well, because I think I like Miss Gray. She has the same flowers as Mama.” Her voice died away in a sniff.
“Please show us what to do. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.”
They didn’t think anyone heard them but God, but someone did. On the far side of the house, a window was open. A soft breeze stirred the curtains and brought the sweet petition into the room.
A ringing bell sent both girls racing for the bushes.
At the supper table, Eleanor noticed the smudge of dirt on her sister’s face. Why hadn’t they paid more attention and come back before the bell rang? Someone was sure to notice.
Almost as thought reading her thoughts, Julia started right in. “I can’t believe Mrs. Cobell would allow someone as dirty as you are, Catherine, to come to the table. Why, you have dirt on your face! Or did you get in a fight and bruise it?”
Catherine kept her head down and said not a word.
“And you, Eleanor, you look like you’ve been out playing in the dirt all day. Your hair is a mess and you have dirt down the side of your face. Ugh! I don’t know why I have to sit next to you.”
“Maybe so you can, oh so kindly, point out all the things they are doing wrong, so you’ll look good,” Alex replied sarcastically.
Julia tossed her head. “They need someone to point out their errors. Who knows where they came from. They were probably found in an alley from the grungy way they always look.”
A sniff came from Catherine, and a tear dropped on her plate. Eleanor opened her mouth to defend her little sister, but before she had a chance to say a word, Alex draped an arm around Catherine’s shoulders and spoke in a low voice.
Catherine nodded and knelt in the grass. “Smell them, El; they smell like . . . home.” And she buried her nose in a pansy.
“I know.” Eleanor quietly began pulling weeds as she blinked back tears at the thought of Mama. No matter where they had lived or where they had traveled, Mama always had a pot of pansies.
It was exciting to see the garden take on a neat and tidy appearance. The longer they worked, the more nimble their fingers became at pulling only the weeds. Soon the flowers were freed from the weeds and given more space to breathe and grow. The weeds were piled in a heap, and at last Eleanor sat back to wipe her hot face.
“It looks so much better, Catherine.”
“Uh huh. Can we start on another one?”
But Eleanor shook her head. “No, we should get back and sit in the shade a little while, or someone will notice how hot we are.”
“What do we do with the weeds?”
That was a puzzle. Eleanor remembered Miss Gray had put the weeds in a basket, but what she did with them after that, she didn’t know. “Let’s put them in the hole under the porch. They can’t grow there.”
Quickly the girls stuffed the weeds through the lattice and then scurried back to the bordering bushes. Both were red faced and damp from sweat, and four hands were dirty. But the flower garden looked lovely.
*
The next day there was only a little time to slip through the bushes and pull weeds in another garden. Once again there was no sign of Miss Gray.
“What if she’s sick, Eleanor?” Catherine asked on the third day. “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t come outside.”
Eleanor gave no reply but pulled a few more weeds in silence. Stopping, she sat back on her heels and looked at the house. There was no sign of life. “Maybe–” she hesitated and looked all around. “Maybe I should knock on the door.”
Catherine gasped.
“She probably isn’t home.” Though she said the words as firmly as possible, there was a slight quiver to her words. “If we don’t see her tomorrow, I’ll knock. But Catherine, we should see if we see any light in the windows at night.”
Suddenly both girls turned their heads and looked above the bushes to the orphanage. It had never occurred to them that someone looking out of the girls’ room on the second floor could see right over the bushes and into Miss Gray’s yard.
Neither one spoke.
Should they go back to their hiding place and stay there day after day? Should they knock on the door and find out if Miss Gray was all right? What should they do?
“Come on.” Eleanor beckoned to her sister and slipped away from the house and behind the shelter of a lilac bush which would shield them from anyone looking out the orphanage windows. “Catherine,” she said soberly, “we’ve forgotten something.”
Catherine started to look around, as though wondering what had been forgotten.
“We’ve forgotten to pray.”
“No, we haven’t,” protested the younger girl. “We pray before we go to bed, and Mrs. Cobell prays at meal times.”
“I don’t mean that.” Eleanor gently stroked a green leave on the bush. “I mean like we used to pray before Mama died. About everything. We didn’t pray about coming over and helping Miss Gray, but I think we should pray now.”
Catherine nodded at once.
Together the sisters knelt in the grass, folded their hands and bowed their heads.
“Dear Jesus,” Eleanor began, “we’re sorry for not asking You if we should come here and help Miss Gray before. You said we are to take care of the widows, though I don’t know if Miss Gray is a widow, but she’s all alone. But we also don’t want to get in trouble for helping. And we don’t know if Miss Gray is sick or not. Please help us know what to do.”
“And Jesus,” Catherine added, “if Miss Gray is sick, please don’t let her be sick like Mama was because . . . well, because I think I like Miss Gray. She has the same flowers as Mama.” Her voice died away in a sniff.
“Please show us what to do. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.”
They didn’t think anyone heard them but God, but someone did. On the far side of the house, a window was open. A soft breeze stirred the curtains and brought the sweet petition into the room.
A ringing bell sent both girls racing for the bushes.
At the supper table, Eleanor noticed the smudge of dirt on her sister’s face. Why hadn’t they paid more attention and come back before the bell rang? Someone was sure to notice.
Almost as thought reading her thoughts, Julia started right in. “I can’t believe Mrs. Cobell would allow someone as dirty as you are, Catherine, to come to the table. Why, you have dirt on your face! Or did you get in a fight and bruise it?”
Catherine kept her head down and said not a word.
“And you, Eleanor, you look like you’ve been out playing in the dirt all day. Your hair is a mess and you have dirt down the side of your face. Ugh! I don’t know why I have to sit next to you.”
“Maybe so you can, oh so kindly, point out all the things they are doing wrong, so you’ll look good,” Alex replied sarcastically.
Julia tossed her head. “They need someone to point out their errors. Who knows where they came from. They were probably found in an alley from the grungy way they always look.”
A sniff came from Catherine, and a tear dropped on her plate. Eleanor opened her mouth to defend her little sister, but before she had a chance to say a word, Alex draped an arm around Catherine’s shoulders and spoke in a low voice.
Have you had lots of rain this week?
Are you excited about Secret Project?
Would go with the girls to help Miss Gray?
Nope! We haven't had much rain this week! Maybe one day? I'm not sure.
ReplyDeleteYes! I'm excited about the Secret Project! And I had no idea they were so close to publication!!! Congratulations! I would like to help spread the word about them later. :)
Yes, I think I would help the girls help Miss Gray. :)
I'd be happy to share some of our rain. ;)
ReplyDeleteYep, it's pretty exciting to think about getting proof copies soon. Thanks for being willing to help spread the word. I'll let you know when I'm ready.
I'd go help Miss Gray too.