Beyond the Border - Part 1

Good morning and happy May!

Yeah, I know, I can't believe it's May either. We thought April would drag with having to stay at home and not going to church, but it didn't. Thankfully. It just vanished and left completely befuddled about what day and month it is. ;) Our state is opening up on Monday! Yay!!!

This week has been good. I've gotten some things done and worked on that needed done and worked on for quite some time. Like organizing some files on my computer. I still have more to organize, but at least the desktop doesn't look as bad. ;) I'm also slowly working on updating things on my Read Another Page website. Right now all the newsletter sign up forms have been updated and should look good on a computer or a mobile device. I still have more updates to do like adding audio books and my three newest Christmas Collection books from December. Yeah, I'm a little behind the times.

I haven't written quite as much this week because I reached my 30k goal on Monday and the end of the Secret Project (at least until my editor has read it) on Tuesday. But I did work on the prequel for this project on Wednesday and Thursday.

Anyway, this story was written for a "title challenge" that some other writer friends and I decided to do. We all had the same title and anyone who wanted to wrote a story to go with the title. Then we had readers (not the authors) vote on aspects of the story and their favorite. This title was for March and this story ended up with the most points of the 4 stories entered. I hope you enjoy it.

Beyond the Border

Part 1

    Eleanor slowly parted the branches and peered out. “She’s there,” she whispered.

    The tall bushes which formed the border of the orphanage yard shook a little, as though a light breeze stirred them, as seven-year-old Catherine wiggled closer to her sister to see too. “What’s she doing?”

    “Weeding probably.” Eleanor was nine.

    All was quiet in the little sheltered nook as the two sisters, much alike, with brown eyes and mousy brown hair braided in two braids watched the woman next door with interest. The little hollow among the branches was the sisters’ favorite hiding place, away from the noise and commotion of the other orphans. They had discovered it only a week after they had arrived at the orphanage left there by a kind policeman who had found them hungry and alone after their mother had died.

    Since it was summer and there was no school, the children at the orphanage had plenty of time to play in the yard after their chores were finished. The children all worked in the large garden, kept the home clean, and helped in the kitchen. Eleanor and Catherine didn’t made friends easily and were often left to their own devices when play time came. This didn’t bother them, but if Mrs. Cobell saw them alone, she would deliver a lecture on participation.

    It was Catherine who had first discovered the shelter in the bushes. Upon closer examination, the girls found that both of them could fit comfortably, and the branches sheltered them from observation. Together they would sit like two little gray birds and watch the rowdy play of the other orphans on one side, or would gaze at the large Victorian mansion on the other and imagine what it would be like to live there.

    For two weeks the house stood empty. No curtains hung in the windows and the gardens were overgrown. Then a change happened. A woman arrived at the house. Soon curtains hung in the windows, and the large front porch was swept.

    “Do you think she’s the housekeeper?” Catherine had whispered.

    “Maybe. She doesn’t look rich enough to own the house,” Eleanor replied. “I wonder who else will live there. I wish we could.”

    Eagerly the girls watched and waited, but no one else arrived. Now, from their hidden room, they watched the woman working in the flower garden near the porch.

    “Perhaps the others will come after everything looks nice.” Catherine hugged her knees and glanced at her sister.

    “What others?”

    “Why, the ones Miss Gray is preparing the house for.” And Catherine pointed toward their neighbor.

    “How do you know her name?”

    “I don’t. But she always wears gray. Like we do.”

    Eleanor didn’t have a reply for this, and she had to admit that it was easier to think of the lady next door with a name than to always be referring to her as “that lady” or “the lady next door,” which got cumbersome after a while.

    The sudden ringing of the bell startled both girls, and they quickly but carefully scrambled from their hiding place and joined the other children heading toward the house and supper.

    After washing their hands, Eleanor and Catherine filed into the dining room and stood behind their chairs at their assigned table. The other children found their tables and all waited. Mrs. Cobell said grace and then, at Mrs. Cobell’s nod, the children hurried to sit down and begin eating.

    “Catherine, your sleeve is torn,” Julia criticized. “What were you doing? Mrs. Cobell won’t be happy. And where were you, Eleanor, when we were picking beans this morning?”

    “Miss Stroder told me to help wash the windows.” Eleanor stole a glance across the table to Catherine. Her sleeve was torn a little, right at the shoulder. It was just a small tear, and she wondered if one of the older girls would help her mend it before tomorrow.

    Julia went right on talking. “Someone moved into that ugly old house next door. I heard Mrs. Cobell talking with Miss Stroder and Mrs. Cobell this morning. They wanted to buy the house so we could have more room, but this other lady had inherited it or something, and she’s moved in. Mrs. Cobell talked to her about selling it and the lady refused! You’d think that she wouldn’t want such a large place for just one person. I mean, what is she going to do, sleep in a different room each time?” She laughed scornfully.

    “Maybe she has servants,” Alex ventured with his mouth half full.

    “Ha!” Julia sniffed. “And don’t talk with food in your mouth, Alex, it isn’t polite.”

    “You do it.” Alex retorted as Julia took a bite of her bread.

    “Do not!”

    Eleanor had a hard time not joining in the laughter that echoed down the table at Julia’s denial around her bread and butter. Alex had been right. Julia did talk with food in her mouth quite often.

    “That was mean, Alexander Luntz!” Julia threw her napkin at him and glared.

    Eleanor felt a kick under the table and glanced up quickly. Catherine had dropped her eyes to her plate and the laughter died at the table.

    “What is the meaning of this commotion?” Miss Stroder’s voice was firm. Only silence greeted her question. “Is no one going to talk voluntarily? Do I need to withhold cake from the entire table?”

    “No, ma’am,” Alex spoke up quickly. “It was my fault. I was teasing Julia. I’m sorry.”

    For a moment Miss Stroder stood silent. “What did you say?”

    Alex dropped his eyes to his plate. “I’d rather not say, Miss Stroder.”

    “He said she talked with her mouth full of food too,” piped up Victor. “And she said she didn’t while she was eating her bread.”

    “I think,” Miss Stroder said quietly, “that there needs to be less talking and more eating at this table. Is that understood?”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    Eleanor returned to her supper. Beside her, Julia muttered something under her breath but didn’t talk any more.

Did your April drag or fly?

Who do you think Miss Gray is preparing the house for?

Did you enjoy the first part of this story?