Dylan's Story - Part 9

Good morning FFFs,

It's cloudy right now. I think there's a slight chance of rain this morning and then it's supposed to clear up. Yesterday was rather strange because now and then the sun would come out and it would look like it was clearing up only to have the clouds gather even darker and hide the sun.

We babysat Doodle Bug, Lukesters, and Ti-K yesterday for a few hours while my brother helped my dad on a roof and my sis-in-law is laid up with a sprained ankle. Please pray for her. She's pregnant, has 6 kids to take care of (with little miss Ti-K being a handful by herself. 😛), and now has a sprained ankle.

This has not been a "lot of words written" week. I have written some, but not a whole lot. Part of it I'm blaming on the weather because when it get's just a little too warm upstairs in my room, I don't feel like writing. I'm also blaming it on other distractions, and the fact that I was doing quite a bit of editing. But, you will no doubt be happy to hear that "Dylan's Story" is now waiting for the first of my beta readers (my sister) to start reading it! And yes, I will be contacting other beta readers later.

And, just because I'm nice, I thought I'd let you all read one more part of "Dylan's Story" before you have to wait for it to be published. I wasn't going to give you more, but the story ended up being 12k words longer than I had hoped it would be. I hope you don't mind. 😉

Enjoy!

Dylan's Story

Part 9

    “There he is,” Aunt Autumn smiled as he entered the dining room. “We can–Why, Dylan, where are your socks? It’s too cold to be going around barefoot.”

    “I don’t have any more clean ones,” Dylan mumbled, staring down at the floor and feeling his face growing warm.

    “I have a pair of socks that shrank in the wash,” Scott began. “They don’t fit me, but I kept them anyway. After we pray, I’ll run up and get them. They’ll at least be warmer than nothing.”

    Without a word, Dylan slid into his chair. At least Fern hadn’t said anything.

    The socks were an almost perfect fit, and Dylan nodded when asked if they would keep his feet warm. With warm feet, hot food, and the soothing sound of rain pattering against the window, Dylan relaxed and the dismal thoughts of earlier melted.

    After lunch was finished, Autumn stood up and remarked, “I think I’ll do some laundry this afternoon. Dylan and Fern, find all of your clothes that need washed and, . . .” She frowned thoughtfully a moment. “Scott, could you get the laundry basket and set it in the hall upstairs? If they just brought their clothes down, we’d probably end up with a trail of things they dropped.” She cast a quick wink at Dylan.

    “Sure thing.”

    Then Fern piped up. “I don’t do laundry. Dylan does it.”

    Autumn couldn’t refrain a slight chuckle. “Well, I’m doing the laundry this time; all you have to do is get your dirty clothes in the basket.”

    “That’s Dylan’s job.” Fern slid from her chair and carried her dishes to the kitchen, her dark hair swinging loose about her shoulders.

    “Just take care of your things, Dylan,” Autumn said quietly. “Fern is old enough to carry her own dirty clothes to a laundry basket.”

    However, Fern didn’t think so. She didn’t get angry but shook her head innocently and repeated her statement each time Autumn told her she was to get her own dirty clothes to the basket. At last Autumn grew tired of trying to persuade her to change her mind. Crouching down in the kitchen so she could look right into the little girl’s dark eyes, Autumn said, “Fern, I’m not asking you to take care of your clothes, I’m telling you to. And I’m not going to listen to any more excuses. You are old enough to know which of your clothes have been worn and which haven’t. Now go upstairs to your room, collect all your dirty clothes, and put them in the basket.”

    Bursting into tears, Fern turned and fled from the room.

    After she had left, Autumn stood up and leaned on the counter. “This may be more of a challenge than I had first thought.”

    “What is Fern crying about?”

    Glancing over at her husband as he stepped into the kitchen, Autumn gave a small smile. “I told her she had to put her dirty clothes in the basket herself.”

    Scott raised his eyebrows. “She’s crying over that?”

    “Uh huh.”

    For a minute Scott didn’t speak, and Autumn wondered what he was thinking. At last he spoke. “I think I’ll just go upstairs and see how Dylan is coming along. I was thinking we might play a game or something, if he was interested. And I’ll bring the laundry basket to you in ten minutes.”

    “Thank you. Fern seems to respond better to your authority than mine.”

    “We’ll work on it.”

    Autumn had finished cleaning up the kitchen before the laundry basket was brought down. “Did she do it?”

    Scott nodded. “Yes, but only after I told her that she couldn’t go play a game or do anything else until her clothes were in the basket. I don’t know if she actually knew which ones were dirty, or if she just grabbed everything off the floor. But it’s there.” He nodded towards the basket.

    “That’s it?”

    “Yep, Dylan’s suitcase, at least, was empty. I told him we’d put their suitcases in the closet and he could use the dresser now.” Scott turned as though to go.

    “Scott.”

    “Yeah?”

    “They really don’t have anything else?” Autumn looked up from the basket of clothes to her husband with a troubled face.

    “Not that I know of. Unless–”

    “Unless–what?”

    Hesitating a moment, Scott’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. “Their mom’s car was packed with boxes and things. I wonder if they have more clothes in there. I think I’ll call the sheriff later and see if the car, or at least what’s in it, can be brought over and unloaded. It can’t be good for everything to stay in there.” He glanced out the window. The rain had stopped, but it was still dreary and the wind continued to blow. “Maybe I’ll make a quick call before we start the game.”

    “I wish you would. If it continues to grow colder, the kids are going to need warm coats and warmer clothes than they have been wearing.”

    After seeing her husband nod, Autumn started the washing machine. Several times she shook her head as she saw the few items of clothing Dylan and Fern each had. “Only enough clean clothes for about six days. However did they manage it?”

    Scott and Dylan were in the middle of an intense game of Monopoly when the doorbell rang. Dylan paused with the dice in his hands and looked questioningly at the player opposite.

    “Let’s pause the game for a few minutes, Dylan,” Scott suggested. “I think that might be the sheriff with your car.”

    “Our car? Why would it be here? Is Mom here too?” Dropping the dice, Dylan sprang to his feet.

    “No,” Uncle Scott shook his head. “Your mom isn’t here. But we thought it might be a good idea to unload the car so that nothing got ruined from being in it too long. We’ll put everything in the mud room unless it’s needed.”

Do you do your own laundry?
Could you fit all your clothes in one suitcase?
Do you enjoy playing Monopoly?

Dylan's Story - Part 8

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
I had to scramble this morning because I had completely forgotten that I didn't have anything ready to post. I had finished writing a short story last night, but it wasn't ready to be shared yet. And I hadn't picked another already published story either, so . . . I decided that I'd give you another part of Dylan's Story. I hope you won't mind. (Jesseca, you asked for it, so I hope you can read it.)

Last weekend was one of those crazy, busy things. On Sunday night I told my sister I had no idea what I needed to work on this week because we'd been so busy that I hadn't had time to even think about the coming week. :P We had a birthday party (okay, we celebrated 3 birthdays), a wedding shower, babysat the kiddos twice, had church, had choir practice, saw some friends I hadn't seen in a year, and somehow managed to get my last 500 words written so I could reach my 5k goal.

This week I need about 500 more words as well, though I'm hoping I can get 1,500 words written and reach 6k. I just don't know what I'll write this evening. Dylan's Story got stuck, Finding Joy needs some major work, Hymns in the Hills might work, I haven't tried it, or I might be able to start a new short story. Maybe one for Project 12. What do you wish I would work on?

Now I'll let you read. You probably didn't even bother reading this part, did you? Don't worry, I won't hold it against you.

Dylan's Story

Part 8

    “I will. And don’t let either of them go out in this rain! We don’t want them ending up in the hospital with pneumonia!”
    Autumn nodded, kissed her husband quickly, and then stood and watched until he disappeared into the rain. Turning back to the children, she saw Fern pressed against her brother. “Perhaps she is a little frightened at times after all,” she murmured to herself. Before, Fern had given the impression that nothing could bother her.
    “Aunt Autumn,” Fern whimpered when Autumn returned to their side, “I don’t like it in here anymore. Can’t we go back to the house?”
    “Uncle Scott went to get the truck. The wind and rain are too cold for us to go all the way back to the house on foot.”
    Clutching Autumn’s hand, Fern lifted dark eyes wide with fear. “Then won’t Uncle Scott get sick?”
    “Fern, he’s an Army man. Army men don’t get sick from rain and wind,” Dylan scoffed. “They’re tough.”
    “I don’t think he’ll get sick, Fern,” Autumn reassured the little girl whose eyes had remained fixed on her, completely ignoring her brother’s words. “He is more used to the elements than we are. Now, while we wait, let’s make sure the horses are ready for a long day in the stable.”
    As they worked, Autumn kept one ear open for the sound of the truck. In spite of her assurance to Fern, she couldn’t quite rid herself of the worry that nudged her mind. What if Scott slipped and fell on the way? Would he be able to make it all the way to the truck if he was injured? What if the truck became stuck in the muddy lane? It had happened before. What if–
    “Aunt Autumn.” Dylan’s voice brought her mind back into focus.
    “Yes?”
    “Is there anything else we need to do?”
    She looked around. There wasn’t anything else to do except to wait. Shaking her head, she smiled. “No, it looks like everything is ready in here. Let’s go watch near the door.”
    The time passed slowly to the three who were waiting and watching the falling rain. Fern pressed close to Autumn and even Dylan shivered. At her suggestion, they moved farther back and shut the door almost all the way. Conversation was almost non existent for the rain on the metal roof was loud. Suddenly a new sound was heard. Thudding like golf balls being dumped on a hard floor caused Autumn to catch her breath and look anxiously out the door.
    “What is that noise?” Fern’s voice was almost lost.
    “Hail.” Though she tried to hide her concern, Autumn wasn’t sure she had succeeded for Dylan moved up beside her and looked out at the small balls of ice bouncing around. Where was Scott? Had he even made it back to the house before the hail came? Autumn had no way of knowing.
    Finally the hail stopped and only the rain fell, though not as heavily as it had.
    “I’m glad we aren’t in the cabin,” Dylan remarked, sitting down on an overturned bucket.
    “I’m thankful you aren’t too!”
    Soon the truck was seen coming down the road. Pulling up as close as he could to the barn before stopping, Scott reached over and opened the passenger door. “Hurry in, kids!”
    Fern needed no urging but dashed for the truck and scrambled in. Dylan was right at her heels. Shutting the stable door securely, Autumn followed. There was barely enough room in the cab for the four of them to fit, but after Fern had wiggled her way across her brother and onto Autumn’s lap, it was less crowded.
    “Home, James,” Autumn ordered, her voice prim and proper.
    “Very good, ma’am,” Scott replied in some funny accent, pretending to touch a cap he wasn’t wearing.
    Fern giggled, and even Dylan smiled. They were all safe in the truck and headed for a warm house and dry clothes.

*

    Arriving at the house, Autumn said, “When we get inside, Fern and Dylan, I want you to both run up to your rooms and change into dry clothes. And make sure you put on dry socks, Fern.” Autumn patted the little girl’s knee. “You stepped right in that puddle.”
    “But my shoe is wet, so my dry sock will just get wet too.”
    “Do you have slippers?”
    Fern shook her dark head.
    “Well, I think I have something you can wear around the house.”
    “Bring any wet shoes down and we’ll dry them by the fire,” Scott promised before he opened his door.
    Quickly rushing inside, everyone scattered to their rooms to get into something dry and warm.
    Dylan shivered as he pulled on his last clean shirt. “I wonder if they have to go to town to wash their clothes?” he mused, pulling off his damp socks. “I should have looked for puddles before I followed Fern. Now where are my socks? Surely I have another pair.” Carefully he dug through his suitcase one more time. Nope. All of his socks had been worn and needed washed. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Dylan gave a sigh that was almost like a sob. He was tired of trying to be responsible for everything. “I’m only ten. I want to be a boy, not a grownup.” Sniffing, he let his shoulders sag and rested his chin in his hands. Why was life so hard?
    “Dylan! Lunch is ready!”
    The call from his sister brought Dylan to his feet. Picking up his shoes, he made his way downstairs where he left his shoes on the hearth with the other pairs. The warmth of the fire felt good to his bare feet and for a minute he stood warming his toes.
    “Dylan!” Fern’s voice was impatient. “I’m hungry, so come on!”
    “Fern, talk politely, please.”
    Dylan heard Uncle Scott’s low voice and turned away. He knew he’d better go before Fern got really upset. Besides, his breakfast had disappeared some time before and his stomach was begging to be filled again. The smell of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup quickened his steps.
    “There he is,” Aunt Autumn smiled as he entered the dining room. “We can–Why, Dylan, where are your socks? It’s too cold to be going around barefoot.”

Have you ever run out of clean socks?

Have you ever been stuck in a building other than a house during hail?

Do you like grilled cheese and tomato soup?

Dylan's Story - Part 7

Happy Day-After-Thanksgiving!
(Or Black Friday if you prefer)
Got any big plans for shopping today? Any sales you just can't pass up? I purchased something on Wednesday that was on a "pre-Black Friday" sale. It was originally over $100.00 and I only paid $34.50 or it. :) I'm happy. :)
Speaking of sales, I managed to get two of my books on sale. The Graham Quartet kindle books are on sale. The first one if FREE, and the second is $.99. And, if you get or already have the first Graham Quartet book on your kindle (or phone or wherever you have the kindle copy), you can get the audio for only $1.99! It's perfect for Holiday traveling.

There is also a sale going on Indie Christian Books that you aren't going to want to miss! I can't recommend all the books because I haven't read them all, but I can recommend authors Sarah Holman, Amanda Tero, and Kate Willis. Check out their books! They have sales on the kindle books and on the paper books.

Well, enough about sales and things like that. I hope all of you American readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Did you have family over or did you go somewhere? My grandparents were here and my brother and his family came over to have Thanksgiving on Wednesday so they could go to her family's house for Thanksgiving Day. We rather like this tradition. That means that we can eat leftovers on Thanksgiving and do other things besides stay in the kitchen all day. Yesterday we got our entire yard raked! We have a large yard and a whole lot of trees! Now we have mountains of leaves down by the street. Anyone want to come play in them?

Okay, I have other things I need to get done before I head over to help my brother pull orders for his Black Friday sale at Light of Faith. Have a wonderful week! And enjoy this next part of:

Dylan's Story

Part 7

    Leaning over towards her, Scott said two words, “Fern, stop!” His voice was low but full of authority.
    To her brother’s astonishment, Fern’s cries stopped. She sniffed a few times and sat looking down at her plate.
    “Fern, you can either eat the eggs and piece of bacon now, or you may be excused from the table and eat them for lunch. But if you wait, they will be cold.”
    “Can I have more cinnamon roll?”
    “After you have eaten your eggs and bacon.”
    For a moment Fern looked at the army reserve man as though trying to see how far she could push. She must have realized that she had reached her limit, for her eyes fell again and she picked up her fork and scooped up a bite of eggs.
    No one said a word until Fern’s plate was empty, and then Autumn said softly, “Thank you.”
    “Can I have another cinnamon roll now?” the girl asked, looking at Mr. Wood.
    “I’ll give you half a one and then, if you are still hungry, you can have the other half.” Cutting the large sticky roll, Scott set half of it on Fern’s plate. “What about you, Dylan, still hungry?”
    Hesitating, Dylan looked at his empty plate, and then at the pan of rolls. They were really good–
    “Half a one?”
    Dylan nodded and held out his plate. “Please. These are the best I’ve ever had, Mrs. Wood.”
    “Why thank you, Dylan. With praise like that, I may have to make them more often.”

    After breakfast, before they went outside, Dylan managed to catch his younger sister in the hallway. “Fern,” he whispered, “did you make your bed and tidy your room?”
    “No. And I don’t have to. We’re not at home, you know.”
    “Of course we aren’t, but that just means we should make sure we keep our rooms neat and tidy. They aren’t really our rooms. You don’t want them to make us go back and live alone in that old cabin, do you?” He was pretty sure Mr. and Mrs. Wood would never send them back alone, but he hoped the thought of it would make Fern a little more responsible.
    Before Fern could reply, a voice called from downstairs. “Dylan, Fern, are you two about ready to go see the horses?”
    Ignoring her brother, Fern ran down the hall and disappeared down the stairs. With a sigh, Dylan followed more slowly. He couldn’t decide if it was worth the trouble to try and make his younger sister behave or not.
    “Something on your mind, Dylan?” Scott asked as the boy came down the stairs, his feet almost dragging. “If you don’t want to go see the horses, you don’t have to.”
    “Oh, I want to go. Mr. Wood–” He paused, hesitated, and frowned.
    “Suppose we change something in that sentence,” Scott said. “Suppose you call me Uncle Scott. Since you and Fern are probably going to be staying for a while, it might make things a bit easier. And I know my wife would enjoy being Aunt Autumn. Now, what did you want to say?”
    Dylan didn’t answer right away. He’d never had an uncle. At least not that he knew of. Would it make things easier? Pulling on his sweatshirt, he stepped outside, still in silence. It wasn’t until they were halfway across the yard that he spoke, trying out the new name. “Uncle Scott, Fern . . . well, she can be really sweet, but other times she’s just plain hard to get along with. Mom didn’t always make her keep her room clean or make her bed . . .” His words died away. How could he explain himself?
    “And you are worried that she might cause problems?” Scott looked down at the boy beside him.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Well, you can stop worrying. Fern will get used to things around here in time, and we aren’t sick like your mom was. Give us a chance, all right?”
    Dylan nodded. He still wasn’t convinced his new aunt and uncle knew what they were getting into, but he didn’t know what else to say.

    Part way through the morning, the sun, which had persistently poked through the clouds every little while, disappeared altogether and the rain began to fall. Out in the stable, Scott stepped to the doorway and looked out. A biting wind was coming from the north and the sky was dark. Everywhere the brightly colored leaves were falling in showers from the trees, leaving the branches bare.
    “I don’t think this is going to let up any time soon,” Scott called back over his shoulder. He had to almost shout to be heard above the torrents of rain. “And the wind has shifted. We may be getting snow or ice before long.”
    At his words, Autumn placed an arm about Fern’s shoulders. She wasn’t ready for winter yet, and she wasn’t sure if the children even had winter coats, but her concern at the moment was how they were going to get back to the shelter of the house. “Stay here, children,” she told Dylan and Fern, pushing the girl over beside her brother. “I’ll be right back.”
    Quickly she hurried over to the door. “Scott, how are we going to get back to the house? We can’t just stay here until the rain stops, for that might not be for hours. We only have on our sweatshirts or jackets. I didn’t think winter would come so suddenly.”
    Scott gave a sigh. “I know. It might not get cold enough for ice and snow today, but that wind has a feel to it that I don’t quite like.” He was silent a moment. “You stay here with the kids. Make sure the horses have enough water and food for the day.”
    “Where are you going?” Autumn thought she knew, but she asked anyway.
    “I’ll make a run for the house and get the truck. Then I’ll come back and get you guys.”
    “Be careful.”
    “I will. And don’t let either of them go out in this rain! We don’t want them ending up in the hospital with pneumonia!”

Do you ever try to get younger siblings to be tidy?

Does it work?

Are you excited about Christmas coming?

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?

A Change of Visitors - Part 5

Hello FFFs,
I see you came back. :) I hope you enjoy this last part of the story. Somehow though, I'm thinking that you are all going to want more. If that's so, be sure you leave a comment telling me so and I'll see what I can do.

Yesterday was one of those crazy days where I didn't get done the things I would normally get done but I got other things done. You see, I have a birthday party to attend tomorrow afternoon for a friend I've known since she was born. She's having a "book/movie costume party" and I was working on an apron I need for my character. Come back next week, and I just might show you my outfit. ;)

Not much writing this week. But I'm almost finished reading TCR-5. Any ideas for the next TCR book are wanted! I'll take anything really even if I won't promise to put everything in the book. :)

I've been having fun working on the cover for the new Graham Quartet mystery. And redoing the cover for the first one. I can't wait to get them finished so I can let you all see them! The new mystery has gone out to test readers and my Graham Quartet illustrator is working on the drawings. Pray that she will be able to get them done quickly as she has 3 more to do than the last time. (Yep, this book has three more chapters.)

Okay, here's the last part of this story. Enjoy!

A Change of Visitors

Part 5

    Dylan stared moodily out the window in the living room. The overcast sky and cold, misty day seemed to reflect his inner feelings and he sighed. He and Fern had been taken to the hospital to see their mom that morning; she had talked to them, but only for a short time. Then they had had to leave her there and come back to the Wood’s house. And the sheriff had talked to them, asking many questions. Fern had chattered about anything without regard to his nudges and the glares he had given her to make her stop. All he had managed to do, however, was make her mad, and she had yelled at him. After that the sheriff had decided to talk to them separately, and Dylan wondered what his sister had said. “It’d be just like her to blab everything about our life to complete strangers,” he muttered. “I wish she was the shy, timid kind of girl.”
    “Dylan, would you like some freshly baked cookies?” Mrs. Wood’s bright voice sounded from the doorway behind him and he turned.
    “Okay.”
    He followed her into the kitchen and found Fern seated on one of the high stools eagerly eating a warm chocolate chip cookie. It was obvious that she was enjoying it, for bits of chocolate were smeared about her mouth. When asked if he wanted a glass of milk, Dylan shook his head. “No, thanks.”
    “Dylan doesn’t like milk and cookies,” Fern piped up. “He never would drink any at home, and Mom used to say that–”
    “Be quiet,” Dylan hissed. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand much more of her free talk.
    “I can say anything I want to, old man.”
    “Fern, we don’t allow that sort of talk in this house. It isn’t kind,” reproved Autumn quietly, taking the last pan of cookies from the n and setting it on the counter.
    “Well, it’s true. Mom said he was a man and old before time, so there.” Fern folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip.
    Dylan didn’t say anything. He knew that even the slightest word from him would set Fern into another burst of name calling.
    “I don’t care if it is true,” Autumn said, and Dylan wondered if she was trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t kind.”
    “I can call him anything I want,” insisted the little girl. “He’s mean sometimes and–”
    Autumn interrupted. “Then you can’t have your second cookie.” And very calmly she took the other cookie from Fern’s plate.
    “You give me back my cookie!”
    Stuffing the last third of his second cookie in his mouth, Dylan dropped off his stool. He started toward the door, but paused. As soon as he could speak, he said, “You might as well give it back to her; she’ll cause a huge scene if you don’t.”
    But Autumn shook her head. “If she’s not going to talk sweetly, then she can’t have a cookie.”
    Dylan didn’t wait to see what the outcome would be but hurried from the room, his sister’s screams sounding in his ears. Mr. Wood came in the front door, glanced at him and then strode to the kitchen. With a sigh, Dylan climbed the stairs to his room. Life was different. Everything had changed since their car had broken down on that old road.
    Sitting disconsolately on his bed, Dylan leaned his elbows on his knees, propped his chin in his hands and stared at the window. The mist had changed into rain. Pattering drops splashed onto the window pane. He couldn’t hear Fern screaming any longer and wondered if she had stopped or if the rain had drowned out her voice.
    A knock on the open door startled him some time later. “May I come in?”
    It was Mr. Wood, and Dylan nodded.
    The army reserve man came and sat down on the bed next to him. “It’s kind of hard right now, isn’t it?”
    Dylan nodded without saying a word and the man went on.
    “Dylan, you don’t have to try and hide your mom’s past. Your mom told the sheriff and me all about it. There were some corrupt police in the town you lived in, and things were done that shouldn’t have been allowed. But things are different here. Sheriff Reese is an honest man, and the men on the force here are honorable. You don’t have to be afraid of hiding things.”
    A queer feeling came over Dylan and he shifted.
    Scott Wood placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and went on. “That house where you and Fern were staying belongs to your mom. It was your great uncle’s farm, and he left it to her when he died.”
    “He did?” Dylan turned his head.
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t want to stay there!”
    Scott couldn’t keep back a smile. “I can’t say that I blame you much right now. But don’t worry, you and Fern are going to be staying right here until your mom is well and the house has been fixed up.”
    “Is Mom going to get well?”
    “The doctor said it may take a while, but he hopes she will be able to leave the hospital in a few weeks.. She suffered a seizure on her way back to the car that night. It might help her recovery if she didn’t have to worry about you and Fern being happy here. Do you think you would like to stay here?”
    There was a long silence as Dylan gazed about the room, stared out the window and then turned to look at Mr. Wood. “Yeah. I like it. But Fern won’t unless she gets her own way.”
    “You just leave Fern to us, okay?”
    Dylan nodded. He was glad to dump the care of his little sister onto broader, stronger shoulders. The silence lengthened and the darkness deepened into dusk.
    At last Scott seemed to rouse himself and asked, “Would you like to help me bring in some wood from the porch and get a fire going in the den?”
    Dylan nodded. He didn’t like just sitting around with nothing to do.

*

    While her hands were busy in the hot, sudsy water, Autumn listened to her husband's steady voice in the other room. She smiled to herself as she pictured the rapt faces of Dylan and Fern as they listened to the story. “I wonder how long we’ll get to have them here,” she mused. “Even after their mother is released from the hospital, I don’t think the house will be ready until some time in spring. Maybe we can persuade her to stay here too. She’ll need help after she leaves the hospital, and I think Fern is more than she can handle right now.” Turning on the water, she rinsed the mugs and spoons from their hot chocolate. “This is a perfect autumn evening and I think I’m going to enjoy our change of visitors, even if it will be more of a challenge.”

Did the ending satisfy you?

Are you tired of these characters now?

Or do you want to know more about them?

If you want to read more about Scott & Autumn, and Dylan, Fern and their mother, let me know. And tell me what you want to know. Maybe I'll get enough ideas to turn this into a longer story.

A Change of Visitors - Part 4

Hello, Friday Fiction Fans,
It's nice to see you are back. I hope you all had a good week. Was it busy? Crazy? Normal? Strange? Relaxed? Long and lazy? (If the last please share how you managed to have a full week like that!)

My week? Well, let me see.
Saturday was crazy busy with celebrating my brother's birthday and my oldest and youngest nephews birthdays with soccer, kick-ball, presents, sunshine, cake and ice cream, and lots of excitement and energy!
Sunday I worked in the nursery during Sunday School. Spent the entire afternoon reading. :) Now that was fun!
Monday and Tuesday were pretty normal–busy, projects to work on, writing to do, blog posts to get ready, etc.
Wednesday afternoon I had a 2 hour long election judge training for the presidential preference that is coming right up. It will be a busy year with four different elections that I'll be working as a Supervisory Judge for. 
Yesterday was fairly normal until supper time. Then all the kiddos came over for supper and for a few hours after.
Today should be normal. At least I hope it is, because tomorrow will not be normal. We'll have all the kiddos again only they'll be coming at 2:00 and won't be leaving until 9ish. 

Let me see, what writing have I been doing? Well, not much this week. I did get one short story/chapter of a longer story written. At least I now have some things to post. Instead of writing I'm reading TCR. Yeah, I thought it would be a good idea to actually reread the entire series before I started writing book 6. And you know what? I discovered St. John's first name! :) I didn't write everything like that down while writing the first book because I had no intention of writing a series. Now I need to know those kind of things.

But you didn't come to listen to me ramble, did you? Nope, I thought not. You want to find out more about Dylan and Fern, and about Autumn and Scott. Well, enjoy!

A Change of Visitors

Part 4

    In silence, Dylan gathered his dishes and carried them to the cheery kitchen. After selecting his cookies he stood uncertainly, wondering where he should eat them. Mrs. Wood solved the problem by setting glasses of milk on the end of the island and nodding to some high stools.
    “You can eat there and I’ll start cleaning up.” Quickly she disappeared from the room.
    This gave Dylan the opportunity he wanted. “Fern,” he whispered, “don’t tell things about Mom. She wouldn’t like it.”
    For answer Fern stuck her tongue out. “She wouldn’t care. Besides, it’s the truth.”
    “I don’t care. Don’t tell those things. You don’t want to make it hard for Mom, do you?”
    “It won’t make it hard. I think it will help. And you are just mean and horrid!” She shoved her brother and her voice grew louder. “I don’t like you. I wish you would have gotten lost and–”
    “Hey, that’s no way to talk.” Scott had entered the kitchen in time to hear the last words.
    Fern turned on him with fire in her dark eyes. “It is so! Dylan is just being mean! He said–”
    Scott rested his elbows on the counter and leaned down so his eyes were looking straight into Fern’s. “I don’t care what Dylan said right now. I want you to finish your cookies and let me talk.” He smiled but his voice had been firm.
    Dylan waited in silence, wondering how his sister would respond. When she didn’t say anything but took a bite of her cookie, he relaxed. At least she wasn’t going to get really mad. He looked at Mr. Wood.
    “There are a few–men–at the cabin, but they haven’t found any sign that your mom has been back. The car was found, and some other men are checking around there and between the house and the car. Do you know of any other place your mom might go? Do you know anyone around here?”
    Dylan shook his head.
    “Can you think of any reason she might not have come back to the house?”
    There were plenty of reasons, Dylan knew, but he didn’t want to say any of them. Not with Fern there. If he said anything, she’d tell more than she should. A long silence filled the kitchen until Autumn came back in.
    “Are we going to have two guests for the night?”
    Pushing himself off the counter, Scott nodded. “Yep, it looks like it.”
    Suddenly Fern burst into tears. “I want my mom!” She slid down from the chair and ran from the room. “I want my mom!”
    Dylan watched her with a sigh. “So much for that.”
    Scott looked at him sharply as his wife followed the weeping girl. “What do you mean, Dylan?”
    “I thought Fern was going to be good about this whole thing, but I guess not. She stuck to me like a leech at the house and only threatened to run off once, but as soon as someone else shows up she’s back to her old self.”
    Instead of answering right away, Scott strode to the doorway and watched his wife trying to quiet the nearly hysterical girl. Things were not going as easily as he had expected them to when he suggested they take the kids home until their mom could be located. Should he go help with Fern or talk to Dylan?
    As if in answer to that thought, Autumn picked up the still crying child and carried her towards the stairs, giving him a nod and a reassuring smile.

*

    Lying in the dark room under the warm blankets, Dylan yawned and stretched. He couldn’t remember ever sleeping in such a soft, comfortable bed. He tried to keep his eyes open; to think about what had happened, but he couldn’t. All he knew was that the responsibility of taking care of his little sister was off his shoulders, and he felt a sense of relief in knowing that so many others were out looking for their mom.

*

    Down in the den, before a crackling fire, Scott sat on the couch with Autumn curled up beside him, his arm about her shoulders.
    “That poor girl,” Autumn sighed. “She’s a mess. I’ve never seen such temper, grief, confusion, fear and delight in such a short space of time. I let her sleep with one of the stuffed animals in the middle room. You would have thought that I had given her the moon she was so pleased. But did you find out anything more from Dylan?”
    “Some. He obviously doesn’t want to talk much about his mom, but he didn’t hesitate to tell me her name and what she looks like. I called the sheriff after he was in bed. He promised the search was going to continue. It seems strange,” he said after a minute of silence.
    Autumn tipped her head back and looked up at him. “What does?”
    “That my brother and his family couldn’t make it this weekend and yet we ended up with guests anyway.”
    “God must have known we needed to be available for these children right now. I just wish their mom would be found.”
    “Let’s pray for her and the children, Autumn.”

*

    The sharp jangle of the phone woke Autumn some hours later. She blinked when Scott snapped on a small light. Quickly he lifted the receiver. “Hello? . . . She was? Where? When?” There was a long silence. “Yes, we can. . . . Okay, thanks, Sheriff. . . . Yep, we’ll be praying. Bye.”
    Hardly giving her husband a chance to replace the receiver, Autumn pushed herself up on one elbow and whispered, “What did he say? Was their mom found?”
    Dropping back onto his pillow, Scott fumbled for the light and then answered into the darkness which filled the room. “Yes, she was found. They took her to the hospital because she wasn’t responding. The sheriff said he’d be over in the morning to give us a report and talk with the kids. He didn’t say anything, but I have a feeling there’s more to this than–” A prolonged yawn interrupted his words.
    “Then let’s get some sleep. I don’t know when the kids will wake up.” Autumn waited for a reply from Scott, but when none came, she lay back down and stared into the darkness, her thoughts a prayer. “Lord, why did you send us to that house yesterday? What is it You want us to do besides giving these kids a few good meals and a roof over their heads? Thank you that their mother has been found and is able to get some help now. Please help her recover soon. And please, Father, show us what we are to do.”

So, what do you think now?

Do you still like the story?

Would you take Dylan and Fern in?

A Change of Visitors - Part 3

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
Well, we're back to cold. It's in the 20s right now but is supposed to warm up to the 50s later today and be in the upper 60s tomorrow.

Today is GoofBall's 8th birthday! It's hard to believe it's been that long since he was born! And my brother's birthday is tomorrow. And "Puggle Bug" (that's what my youngest nephew told me he was) is going to be 3 next Saturday! Since my grandparents are coming down today, we are all going out for lunch and then tomorrow we'll have a cookout over at my brother's house and celebrate all three birthdays. I'm sure it'll be a bit crazy, but fun. :)
Tonight my grandparents, sister and I are going to a concert to hear the Chanticleer men's chorus. Grandpa loves listening to them and was delighted and impressed that they were going to be singing here in town!

Not much to update you all on. I still haven't gotten everything corrected in the Graham Quartet, nor made any progress on a cover design. Sorry. Hopefully next week will be better.

I'm glad you came back for the next part of this story. I hope you enjoy this next part as much as you have the first two.

A Change of Visitors

Part 3

    There was a moment of hesitation before the boy backed away from the doorway, pushing the door wide open. Smoke poured from the room, sending both children into a fit of coughing. Scott pulled them from the house. “Stay out here until I see what the problem is.”
    Autumn couldn’t tell if the girl was cold or just frightened as she pressed close to the boy, wrapping her arms about herself. Quickly undoing the pack behind Nutmeg’s saddle, she pulled out the two warm jackets. Approaching the children, she said softly, “Here, why don’t you two put these on while we wait for the smoke to clear.”
    The boy turned to look at her and then took the smaller jacket and put it about the girl’s shoulders. “I’m okay,” he said, but a visible shiver belied his statement, and Autumn put the jacket about his shoulders with a slight smile.
    The silence was awkward. “My name is Mrs. Wood. What are your names?”
    “Dylan Sedano.”
    “I’m Fern and I’m eight. I wish Mom would come back cause I don’t like staying here alone.” There was nothing shy about that little girl.
    “Did your mom tell you where she was going?”
    Dylan shook his head. “Huh uh. She was here one minute and then she was gone. I thought she’d gone to see about getting the car fixed.” His voice dropped and he kicked a small stone. “But now I wonder.”
    The smoke had pretty much cleared from the doorway and Scott stepped out. “The wood was green and damp. That’s why it wasn’t burning and you were getting nothing but smoke. Did you gather that wood today?”
    Dylan nodded. “We used up the other stuff last night.” He paused and then asked, “Are you really in the army?”
    Scott nodded. “Yep. Well, I was. I’m just a reserve now, but–” he shrugged and wiped his hands on his pant legs. For a minute he looked about the yard, glanced back into the house, and then raised an eyebrow at his wife. When she nodded, he said, “Suppose we take you kids with us. We’ll leave a note here for your mom, telling her where you are, and then we can make some phone calls and see if we can locate her. How does that sound?”
    “Can we ride on the horses with you?” Fern asked, looking eager.
    “Sure you can,” Autumn answered quickly. “You can ride Ginger with me.”
    “What about it, Dylan?”
    “Okay.”
    Scott pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. “Let’s get your backpacks, and I’ll write the note. We’ll make sure the fire is out and then we’ll be on our way.”

    By the time the horses had stopped before the Wood’s home, Fern had fallen asleep and Autumn could tell that Dylan was having a difficult time staying awake. Her sympathetic expression was met with a nod of understanding before Scott dismounted, assisted Dylan to dismount and then came over and reached for the sleeping girl.
    “Where should I put her?” he asked in low tones.
    “On the couch in the den. Do you want me to start calling or work on supper?” Autumn had slipped from her own horse as she spoke, run up the stairs and quickly unlocked the side door.
    “Supper. I’ll lay her down, put the horses up and then be in to call.”
    Autumn nodded and beckoned to Dylan.

    Sitting at the table, Dylan looked about. The dining room was cozy and warm. The food was really good, and he was glad he and Fern weren’t still alone in the old house. If only their mom would show up. Mr. Wood had made several phone calls after he had come in, but nothing had been learned. Silently he looked across the table to where his sister sat. After her short nap she had awakened eager to do something and was now chattering away around mouthfuls of food. At least she wasn’t talking about their previous life.
    “I’ve always wanted to ride a horse. Can little girls ride your horses or only big people? Did Ginger ever have a baby? Why do you have such a big house when there are only two of you? Do you like dogs? I do, but only if they aren’t mean. Do you think Mom will come tonight? What if she goes to that cabin place? Oh, I forgot, there’s a note for her. But if she doesn’t have a flashlight she won’t see it until morning and she might go looking for us.” The chatterbox paused and took a long drink of water, giving Scott a chance to say something.
    “The police said they’d have someone out there if case she did come back.”
    “Mom won’t like that. She doesn’t like the police.”
    “Fern!” Dylan hissed.
    “Well, she doesn’t. She said so.”
    “Only those other police.” Dylan cast swift glances at the faces of the two adults at the table, but neither one seemed to notice the half whispered conversation.
    Just then the phone rang. Scott excused himself and went into the den to answer it.
    Dylan looked after him. Was that call about their mom? He wished he knew.
    “Mrs. Wood,” Fern said, her young voice suddenly concerned, “sometimes Mommy doesn’t hear us talk to her even when we’re right beside her. And sometimes she starts crying over really strange things like one time–ouch! Don’t kick me, Dylan, or I might get mad.”
    Dylan glared at his sister. Why wouldn’t she learn to shut up? “Fern! Tell her about the owl.” He had to change the subject.
    “What owl?” Autumn, as much as she wanted to know what the little girl had to say, was hesitant about encouraging her in talk that her brother seemed to think wasn’t right.
    Instead of answering, Fern turned and glared at her brother in reply. “I don’t like owls and I’m not going to talk about any.” Her words were short. “I’m going to tell her anything I want.” She didn’t add, “And you can’t stop me,” but her face said it.
    Autumn knew it was time to change the subject. “Who wants cookies?”
    The change in Fern’s attitude was instant. Her face brightened and an eager light came into her eyes. “I do!”
    “All right. Suppose you both carry your dishes into the kitchen for me and then you can each pick two cookies from the cookie jars.”
    “You have cookie jars?”
    Amused at the little girl’s awestruck tones, Autumn chuckled. “I sure do.”

What do you think has happened to their mom?

Will Fern tell what she shouldn't?

And why would the kids' mom not like the police?

A Change of Visitors - Part 2

Happy Spring, FFFs!
Okay, so it's not "officially" spring yet, but when we have the windows open and it's warmer outside then inside, it sure enough feels like spring. Yesterday it actually got up to 77º! And it's not even March! I guess we'll see if we get any good snowfall this "winter." :)

I finally reached the end of this new Graham Quartet mystery. The last parts haven't gotten to my editor yet, and there are a few places in the rest of the book that I need to go and change a few things. Nothing major though. Sorry, I don't have any synopsis  for you and certainly no cover. I guess you'll have to wait a little longer.

I really need to get a few more short or longer short stories written or I won't have anything to post on here. As of now, unless I re-post some old stories, I don't have anything to post after this story is finished.

Now, I'd better let you all get to reading. I hope you enjoy this next part.

A Change of Visitors

Part 2

    The young girl offered no further objections, but, keeping close beside her brother, moved forward.
    The barn was empty except for one sleepy owl on the rafters above them. There was no hay in the loft, just dried leaves from previous autumns. An old halter still hung, half rotted, on a rusty nail. Boards creaked and dried leaves rustled in the draft created by the open door, but no mom was to be found.
    “Let’s go back, Dylan,” Fern whispered, shrinking back as the owl tipped its head and opened one eye.
    “All right.”
    The afternoon was slipping rapidly into evening, the wind had picked up and there was a cold nip in it as the children hurried across the yard and into the cabin. The fire was still burning, and the room was warmer than outside. In silence Dylan and Fern sat down on the dusty floor near the bright blaze and stared into the flames for several minutes.
    Then Dylan got up, grabbed their backpacks and brought them over. “Here, Fern, let’s put on our sweatshirts. We’ll be warmer.”
    “Can we eat?”
    Dylan had no way to tell what time it was, so he shrugged. “I guess, but I don’t think it’s supper time yet.” He wondered how long they would be left alone at the cabin. Where had their mother gone and what sort of animals roamed the woods in this part of the country? There was plenty of wood for the fire. At least he thought there was, and he hoped he’d be able to keep it going all night because he didn’t have any matches.

*

    “Autumn, you ready to go?” Scott called into the house.
    “Yep!” A bright voice answered, and a moment later Autumn appeared, dressed warmly for their ride. “Now I’ll feel like I married an army guy,” she said, noticing he was wearing his army sweatshirt.
    “As if you didn’t already know it,” Scott retorted. “Come on, I think that wind may shift before the day is done and then it’s going to get cold.”
    Autumn looked concerned. “Should we bring extra jackets or something, in case it does?”
    “Already got ‘em.” Scott glanced over his shoulder at the bundle tied on behind his saddle. “Ready?”
    The day was lovely. The sky held scattered clouds which alternately hid the sun and then let it shine forth. Both horses were eager and nodded their heads, trying to persuade their riders to let them pick up the pace.
    “Should we let them out?”
    Autumn nodded. “They might settle down if they get a good canter first.”
    After a short but brisk ride, they pulled their mounts to a walk.
    “I’m sorry your brother and his family couldn’t come next week. We had so much planned to do with them.”
    Scott nodded. “Yeah. It would have been fun to have them, but maybe they can come another time. Once of these days we’ll get them to come visit.” He smiled at his wife.
    Autumn gave a little pout, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “But I didn’t want to wait to have visitors! I’ve been looking forward to having someone to cook for and to keep me company when you are off to work.”
    Reaching over, Scott put his hand on his wife’s arm. “You can still cook for me,” he promised with a wink. Then, growing serious he added, “Richard and Kathy were as disappointed as we are. Maybe if the kids get over the measles they can come before the end of the year.”
    At that Autumn brightened up. “I’ll be praying they do.”

    It was nearly forty minutes later when Scott and Autumn neared the old house. The wind had picked up just a little, but as both riders were warmly dressed, neither wanted a jacket. “Autumn, do you smell smoke?”
    With a puzzled frown, Autumn sniffed the air. She thought she smelled something. “I think so. But where would it be coming from?”
    “I don’t know. I hope no one is dumb enough to try starting a campfire with the wind picking up.”
    Still sniffing, Autumn said, “Maybe someone is at the house.”
    “Maybe.”
    Autumn saw her husband’s face settle into a serious expression. Surely they were just imagining things. But the closer they got to the cabin, the stronger the smell seemed. “Look, there’s smoke coming from the chimney.” She pointed to the cabin on the edge of the clearing. “Should we ride up and see what’s going on?”
    “Yep.” Scott’s right hand slid to his side where he always carried his handgun when out in the woods.
    Silently the couple turned off the road and onto the overgrown lane. There was no car and no sign of horses. It seemed too far for a tramp to have come just to find shelter. Suppose it was a fugitive?
    “Hello in the house!” Scott’s voice rang out and seemed to fill the clearing.
    There was no reply from the cabin.
    “Whoever is in the house had better come out right now.” There was no doubting the command in his voice, and Autumn felt a tingle of pride to think that Scott Wood was her husband.
    The front door cracked open and a young boy stepped into the doorway, his eyes wide and frightened.
    Still keeping one hand on his holstered gun, Scott asked, “Where are you parents, son?”
    The boy’s eyes were darting back and forth between the two riders. “We don’t know where Mom is.” At his words, a small girl crowded up close to the boy’s side.
    “Who else is with you?”
    “Just Fern and me, sir.”
    There was a noticeable change in Scott’s tones as he moved his hand from his gun, dismounted and asked, “Where’s your dad?”
    The boy shrugged.
    Autumn slipped from her horse. “How long have you been here?”
    “Two days. But we didn’t mean to trespass. Mom brought us here and said we could stay til we got the car fixed.”
    “Then she disappeared,” the girl added. “And she didn’t come back.”
    After tying their horses to an old fence post, Scott and Autumn approached the house. Both children had remained where they were, planted in the doorway, eyes filled with mistrust, hope, fright, and some things Autumn couldn’t read.
    “You have a fire going inside?” The question sounded casual, but Autumn noticed Scott had been glancing at the chimney where smoke continued to curl upwards in increasingly dark drafts.
    “Sort of. It won’t burn right anymore,” the boy replied, looking back over his shoulder. The girl coughed.
    “Perhaps I can help; mind if we come in?”

Are the children telling the truth?

Why wouldn't their fire burn right?

Will you be reading next week?

A Change of Visitors - Part 1

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
I hope you all had a good week. Mine has been good. Most of it was usual. I spent quite a bit of time creating felt flowers and turning them into corsages for a widows' luncheon that takes place tomorrow. My sister and I are a part of a widows' ministry at church and it's time for the special luncheon.

You wanted to know about my writing? As in how is "The Graham Quartet and the Day Maid" coming along? Well, I've already written over 6,000 words this week. But . . . I'm stuck. On the ending. I'm so close to finishing this story, but I can't seem to end it. This has been one of the hardest books I've ever written. At one point this week I spent over 30 minutes just trying to figure a few things out so I could write the next part of the story. There were so many possibilities but I knew only one would work. But which one? So, right now I'm praying for inspiration so I can finish this story.

Last night I was thinking about today and what was going on. We babysit my nieces and nephews over lunch time and then this evening S and I go help decorate for tomorrow's luncheon. Suddenly it dawned on me. Tomorrow. Friday. I have to post! What am I posting? Then, just before I panicked, I realized that I already had a story ready to go. I hope you enjoy this one. It was written in the fall, but I didn't have time to post it then. If you want to see the picture that inspired the start of it, here it is.

A Change of Visitors

Part 1

    The sun filtering down through the leaves of the tall trees seemed to make their autumn garb of red, gold and brown to glow. There was a crisp chill to the air, and when the wind whispered through the treetops, it often sent a few scarlet leaves fluttering down to decorate the drab grasses of the trail. Everything was hushed save for the steady plodding of the horses’ hooves, the muted creak of saddles and the crunch of leaves.
    Autumn glanced over at her husband and smiled. He held out a hand and quickly she put hers into it. “I love this time of year,” she remarked quietly. “But I didn’t know my name would fit so well.” Her laugh was bright and seemed to sparkle with life.
    “Sorry you married me?” Scott teased.
    With a toss of her chestnut curls, Autumn grinned. “Nope. I’d have married you even if your last name was something strange like Pain or Ditty. I rather like the name Autumn Wood. It sounds . . .”
    “Poetic?” Scott ventured to guess when she didn’t continue.
    “Something like that.” She smiled again and then clicked to her horse and gave her a nudge with her knees. “No, Ginger, we’re not taking a detour through the woods today.”
    “Talking to your horse.” Scott’s face was perfectly serious, but his twinkling eyes gave him away.
    Autumn laughed. “Of course. I always talk to my horse. Don’t you talk to yours?”
    “Huh uh. It’s not a ‘guy thing,’ you know.”
    “Oh.” Autumn’s head was turned away a minute before she said softly, “I’m so glad I married you.” Her eyes were half shy as she looked over at her husband.
    Leaning over, Scott was preparing to kiss her, but Autumn slyly nudged his horse away causing him to exclaim, “Nutmeg, what’s gotten into you?”
    The merry peal of laughter which met his words brought a rueful grin to Scott’s face. “Okay, okay,” he admitted. “So I talk to my horse too. Just don’t tell my brother when he comes.”
    A shower of leaves fell about the young couple as they paused a few moments to enjoy each other. At last Autumn straightened up in the saddle and said, “If we don’t keep going, we’ll be out after dark.”
    “Scared of the bears?”
    “No, I’m just hungry. Can we ride tomorrow?”
    Scott shrugged. “I don’t know about tomorrow, but probably the next day. Have some place in mind?”
    “I wanted to ride down the road past the old house. Wouldn’t it be fun to buy that place and put in electricity and running water? I mean real running water, not just a pump in the kitchen.”
    “That would be fun, but I don’t know who owns it.”
    Still talking, they continued on their ride, their hands clasped as they rode side by side though the dappled sunlight filtering through the arched roof of russet and gold.

*

    “Mom!” The shout came from a rustic log cabin set back on the edge of a clearing. “Mom!”
    There was no answer. Quickly the door of the cabin was flung open and a ten-year-old boy looked outside, gazing all around. “Mom?” He pushed the door open all the way and stepped out.
    Only stillness greeted him, the crunch of leaves beneath his feet and the rustle of leaves as a brisk breeze danced through the trees, but no answer. There was no red sweater to be seen anywhere. Where was she?
    “Dylan, where’s Mom?”
    The boy glanced back toward the cabin. “I don’t know, Fern. Maybe she went to get more firewood or to see if she could get the car to start.”
    “But the car’s hours and hours away,” Fern protested, her large, dark eyes growing worried. “I don’t want to be here alone.”
    “I’m not going anywhere,” Dylan reassured, casting one more quick glance about the clearing before returning to the door where his younger sister stood. No one would have guessed they were brother and sister, for Dylan’s hair and eyes were light brown while eight-year-old Fern had black hair over dark, expressive eyes. Now those eyes showed the fright she felt.
    “What are we going to do?”
    “Go back inside and wait, I guess.” Dylan shrugged and gave Fern a nudge so he could step through the door. “At least we have a fire going.”
    Fern didn’t reply but shadowed Dylan’s every move as he crossed the room and picked up his backpack. After rummaging through it, he remarked, “I’ve got some granola bars still and my extra water bottle. What do you have?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Seeing that his sister wasn’t going to go look in her pink backpack, Dylan moved around the table. Another quick look showed about the same thing he had. “Come on, let’s go look around the cabin.”
    “I already did.”
    “Well, I haven’t.” Dylan knew it wouldn’t take long to see the entire building, but it would at least give them something to do. The rooms downstairs were small and had no furniture save one dusty rocking chair near the fireplace and the old table where their backpacks sat. A narrow set of steps let to the tiny upper rooms. Everything was dusty and dirty. Cobwebs and dead bugs littered the window sills and corners. Turning from the last room, Dylan nearly tripped over his sister. “Fern,” he muttered, “you don’t have to stick to me like glue.”
    Fern didn’t say anything but glared at her brother.
    “Sorry. Come on, let’s go look at the barn.” Dylan held out his hand as a peace offering. He knew if Fern got mad at him, there was no telling what she’d do. She might even try running off. She’d done that before back home.
    The barn, flecks of red paint curling on the sides, stood fairly close to the house. All was quiet as the children approached it. To Dylan, the silent structure before them was both exciting and frightening. What was inside? Had their mom gone in there and was she hurt? The thought brought a cold shiver racing up his spine.
    Fern pulled on his hand. “I don’t want to go in there,” she whispered.
    Dylan wasn’t sure he did either, but the thought of their mother needing them overcame his fear. “Maybe Mom is in there.”
    “Then why didn’t she answer when you called?”
    “You know she sometimes doesn’t hear us.” He didn’t want to voice the thought that she might be hurt. “Let’s go look. You can even hold my hand, and see,” he pulled something from his pocket, “I even have my flashlight.”

Would you want to explore a strange barn?

Do you think anything/anyone is in there?

Will you be back next week for Part 2?