The Storm - Part 1

Good Morning FFFs,
I'm hoping for some slightly cooler weather soon. It has been getting into the upper 80s all week and I wish it would at least stay in the lower 80s. I'd like the 70s all day, but I may have to wait a little while. 


If you haven't requested you copy of The Unexpected Request, be sure you do so. I gave the okay after looking at my proof copy and now my order of books is on its way. And, wow! The book looks so neat. It is hard to realize that I actually wrote that story. How did I do it? I'm not sure myself.


I worked on writing last night and got some written. I still have all kinds of short stories and longer stories as well as other things just waiting in my brain to come out. Sometimes, however, I think there are so many that I can't write because they are crowding each other.:} Such is the life of an author, I suppose.


Today I'll be doing a little cleaning and then working out in the yard for a while. We have a fence that is about to fall down into the ally. The posts are really old and all the honeysuckle that is on the fence is pulling it down and holding it up at the same time.:} We are going to cut the honeysuckle off so that the fence can have new posts to hold it up tomorrow. Then we can let the honeysuckle grow back. The birds love it. For the last several springs we've had nests in it.:) And they love hiding in there in the winter when a hawk comes to the "bird restaurant." :}


This story was written as a Scribbler assignment last year or so. We all wrote a story about the Jones family and started with the same first 100 words or so. (I forgot how many it was exactly.) It was such fun to read the different versions. I really enjoyed writing mine. I hope you enjoy reading it now.

The Storm
by
Rebekah M.

    I paused as I came up the sandy beach. To my right the restless ocean extended out as far as my eyes could see in the gathering gloom of the approaching storm clouds. The water was grey with plenty of white caps topping each wave as it washed up the shore. Suddenly the wind began to blow. It was a cold nor’easter, and I turned up the collar of my jacket and bent my head. I only had a few moments to walk before I reached our family cabin, but I began to wonder if I would make it before the storm hit. Quickening my pace, I bent my head into the wind. Try as hard as I could, however, the storm was on me before I reached the porch, and the fifteen seconds I was out left me drenched from head to toe.
    I stepped inside trying to find a dry spot of clothing to wipe my streaming face. Someone thrust a towel into my hands and gratefully I used it. When I could see again, I saw the entire family gathered around me staring. Four-year-old Robert was the first to speak.
    “You got wet.”
    I know it wasn’t the most astute observation, but I managed to laugh though I shivered too.
    Mom noticed and sent me to get a hot shower and dry clothes on. I was happy to obey. Alex followed me just to make sure I was all right. I told him I’d be fine when I was dry and warm. Alex is almost nineteen and is doing his pre-med studies. I’m next and just turned fifteen. Dad calls me the family historian. Maybe I’ll write a book someday. Next are the twins, Jainie and Jessie. They are twelve and identical. No one can tell them apart, and I mean no one. When they were little Mom used to keep one of those friendship bracelets on them just in case they got mixed. Robert is the youngest, and he came as a surprise. Except for Mom and Dad, that is the entire Jones family in a nutshell.

    When I returned to the living room, which also serves as dining room, feeling much better, the rain was still coming down and the wind still blew. Mom and the twins were setting the table with frequent stops to look out the windows at the storm or listen to the pounding of the waves. Dad and Alex were sitting before the fire reading; one had the paper and the other a medical book. Robert was playing with the cat. Everything was so cozy and pleasant that I couldn’t help smiling. Stepping over to one of the west windows, I peered through the fogged glass and could just catch glimpses of lights in the two occupied cabins. My parents have five cabins they rent almost like a hotel. Not many people come this time of year, however.

    “Nate,” Mom’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Could you carry the pot of soup out for me? Your dad and brother would have a fit if I tried.”
    I hurried to the kitchen. Mom had strained her back a few days before, and we were all careful not to let her do too much.
    Before long we were all sitting around the table enjoying hot soup and fresh rolls while the fire in the fireplace crackled and snapped, hissing occasionally when a drop or two of rain found its way down the chimney. Outside the storm could rage all it wanted, none of us cared. Robert and the twins kept us merry with their talk. When we couldn’t eat anymore, Dad got out the Bible and we had our evening devotions.
    Hardly had we finished when a sudden sharp crack of thunder seemed to shake the entire house! The lights flickered, blinked and then went out, leaving us to the glow of the fire.
    “Wow,” Alex managed to say. “That was something.”
    “Turn the lights back on,” Robert demanded.
    “The power is knocked out, Son.” Dad had gotten up and looked out the windows. “It looks like everything is out. Alex, Nate, let’s go get the generator going and check on the guests.”
    The girls begged to go too, but Dad wouldn’t let them. It was too stormy.
    Within moments, Dad, Alex and I, all clad in waterproof pants, jackets and boots, set forth with flashlights to take stock of the damages. I was sent to the cabins.

    The first cabin held an older couple who might be in their sixties. They said they had eaten, but weren’t sure they wanted to stay there in the dark by themselves. I couldn’t blame them. They didn’t even have a fireplace. I told them I’d be back and struggled against the wind to the next cabin.
    A middle-aged man was standing in the doorway when I approached.
    The first thing he said was “When two Englishmen meet, their first talk is of the weather. This is quite a night to be out, lad.”
    I leaned against the post of the awning endeavoring to catch my breath. “Storm’s knocked the power out. Head up to the house.” I had to nearly shout to make myself heard.
    The man replied something, disappeared inside and then reappeared with a something which he carried under his rain coat. I was thankful there were only two cabins occupied.
    The older couple were ready to go when we returned, but the rain and wind were so strong they had waited in the cabin. My flashlight didn’t seem to be more than a pin prick of light in the ocean of darkness. “Come on!”
    The lady clutched at my arm with one hand while clinging tightly to the scarf about her head with the other. Her husband followed with the scholar.
    I could just make out the light of lanterns in the windows. Things were blowing about in the gale, and I tried to shield the lady beside me.
    At last we reached the house and stepped inside. Warmth and light greeted us, for Dad and Alex had just started the generator. Mom and the twins helped us all out of our drenched jackets and established our guests in comfortable chairs before the fire.
    Finding my shirt soaked once again (I had forgotten the tear in my raincoat), I stepped back to my room. Alex joined me a moment later.
    “What happened to you?” he asked.
    I looked questioningly at him.
    He pointed to the side of my head.
    I glanced in the mirror and saw blood. “Who knows.” I shrugged it off, but Alex had to examine it, wash and bandage it. It wasn’t much though. Didn’t even hurt. Alex seemed to enjoy it so I didn’t put up a fuss.

    Back in the living room Mom had turned all the lights off again. The generator will run the entire house, but we like to conserve gas since we don’t know how long we’ll be without power. It was quite cozy in the room with the fire blazing brightly, lit candles here and there and every chair and couch full of people.
    Mrs. Turner had somehow managed to bring her knitting and seemed quite content near the fire. Her husband discussed fishing with Dad in a nearby corner. Working on their quilting, the twins occupied the couch while Robert built castles with blocks. Mom was in her chair doing nothing. She smiled when she saw us and motioned us to seats near the other guest who held a large book of some sort which he looked up from to introduce himself as Howard Bartell. In conversation with him I discovered that he had graduated from Oxford and had degrees from Yale, Harvard, Princeton, and several other places. It made my head spin to think of it all.

    After several hours of talk, while the storm still raged outside, everyone began to grow sleepy. The Turners were given us boys’ room, and with Howard we would sleep on the floor in the living room.
     The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep with the storm in my ears was Howard.
    “When tir’d with vain rotations of the day, sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn.”
    I think he’s read too much.

To be concluded next week.

Any thoughts about this first part?

All Things for Good - Part 2

Good Morning FFFs!

Just to get this out of the way,

I will be posting later today

On the page of Traveling the U.S.A.

So come back and see what I have to say.:)

I couldn't resist writing that in rhyme.:)


Are you all just longing the hear the chosen title? Well . . . drum-roll please

The Unexpected Request

Thanks goes to Katelyn, Kristina and James W. for offering that suggestion. I will tell you though, it was a hard choice. There were many good title suggestions. Mom, S and I spent some time going over the list, crossing out ideas one by one until we were down to four. Then we numbered them. The other three came out with the same number while this one won.


I don't know about the rest of you, but it has been HOT here! Just take a look at this picture and you'll see just how hot it has been. Can you imagine living when they didn't have AC?

Those of you who have been waiting patiently or otherwise for me to get back to other stories, namely Triple Creek Ranch, will be glad to know that I stated working on the next part of that last night. It sure was quite a change from the western to the ranch. :) We'll see how it goes. I'm wondering what happens just as much as you all are. And I have other short stories that I'm supposed to be writing as well as working on another story and starting the sequel to Home Fires of the Great War. I should be busy. Not to mention that I still am in the middle of editing The Unexpected Request and sending it to the proofer. But you can keep up with that here.


Enjoy the second part of this story and stay cool. (If you can.)

All Things For Good - Part 2

by

Rebekah M.

Late in the afternoon, Sergeant Dwight appeared. “After you notified me this morning that your father’s car was also gone, I alerted the force to be on the lookout for it. Just got word over the radio that it was found parked at the train station.”
Rose and Josiah exchanged glances. “What would it be doing there?”
“I don’t know, Rose,” Josiah answered. “Can you think of any business trip he was taking?”
Rose shook her head and swallowed hard. “He wasn’t going anywhere. I know that.”
“But if he did,” persisted Sergeant Dwight, “where might he have gone?”
The clock in the hallway ticked loudly as Rose sat on the stairs with her face in her hands. Where would he, where could he have gone? Her brain refused to think, and she could feel the tears threatening once again.
“Sergeant, couldn’t we find out which train he took?”
“I already checked on that,” the sergeant sighed. “It might have worked except there is a new ticket agent. The other one, the one that would have sold her father his ticket, is on vacation, and no one has contact information.”
It seemed to grow more complex with each lead. Josiah’s mind was confused, and he wasn’t sure what to think.
“All this seems to point that Mr. Davidson left of his own free will and, therefore, will most likely return.”
“But Daddy would have let me know!” Rose buried her face against the railing and sobbed.
Both men looked uncomfortable.
“I’d best be getting on. I’ll see how Edward Randolph is,” and with that, Sergeant Dwight let himself out of the house.

“Oh, Rose honey, everything will be all right.” She was gathered in Josiah’s arms where she continued to cry though with less bitterness. Gently he stroked her hair. “I know it is hard to believe, but God doesn’t make mistakes. He knows where your father is, and He can bring him home. Darling, you have to believe that He does work things out for good.”
“I-I know.” Rose moaned. “I want to believe, but oh Jose, it is so hard!”
The afternoon sun sank and evening was approaching rapidly before the two young people arose from their knees and began slow preparations for the evening meal. It was a very silent dinner; neither one seemed hungry but made at least a pretence of eating for the sake of the one sitting opposite them.

Rose lay awake a long time that night, her mind in a whirl. She couldn’t focus on any one thing for more than thirty seconds, yet she couldn’t sleep. After turning her hot pillow for the sixth time, she looked at the clock; it was nearly midnight. Why couldn’t she sleep? Everything was quiet and still. Even the crickets seemed to have ended their nightly concert and gone to bed. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway brought her bolt upright. One car door shut and then a second one. Instantly she was out of bed and peering from the window. She gasped. There was her father and with him a young man. The stranger lifted his head to gaze at the house and as he did so, the light of the moon fell full on his face. Rose stared. Her heart seemed to stop beating and for one moment she couldn’t move. Then with a scream she flew out of her room and down the stairs to become locked in a pair of strong arms while she cried, “Oh Bobby! Bobby! Daddy!”
All was confusion for some time after that. Josiah, not a little startled by this unexpected awakening, joined the group, and questions flew thick and fast. Rose, in her excitement, clung first to the stranger and then to her father and then turned to Josiah, only to start it all over again.
“Come, come Rose,” her father chided her at last. “Let us at least sit down. And would it be permitted to have some coffeecoffee at this untimely hour?”
Rose flew to make it and soon returned to the living room where the three men had settled themselves.
“Now Daddy, tell me everything. I was so worried when you hadn’t left even a note!”
“Didn’t you talk to Randolph?”
“He had a stroke two days before we returned, sir,” Josiah answered.
“Then you didn’t get my note. It is simple really. I received a lead as to Bobby’s whereabouts, dropped everything and followed it. The results, your brother.”
Rose had dropped down in a heap before her father and Bobby and now gazed into their faces. “Oh Bobby, I never doubted you.”
“I know, sis. Thanks.” Bobby couldn’t say more.
With a sudden move, Rose turned and cried, “Oh Jose!” and for the second time burst into tears.
“Hey now! I thought we were done with those.” Josiah pulled her up to a seat beside him.
Smiling through her tears she replied, “Those were sad, these are happy. It’s been six years!”
“Let me explain it to you, Josiah.” Mr. Davidson had noticed his future son-in-law’s bewilderment. “Six years ago, something of great importance was lost. I accused my son of taking it. He denied it and hot words followed. I never should have doubted him--”
“I didn’t deserve your trust then, Dad,” Bobby put in. “I was--”
But his father cut him short and continued. “Things finally came to a head, and I told him that if he wouldn’t confess, I would disown him. Well, he couldn’t confess what he had never done, so he just left. How Rose grieved for him. I hadn’t really meant what I said, but I couldn’t take it back, for Bob was gone. He just disappeared. Only two weeks after he left, I discoverd the missing item. It was obvious Bobby had told the truth. I began to search for him, but couldn’t find a trace because he had changed his name. Then last week, like I said, I got a lead. Thank God it was true and led me straight to my son.”
“He works all things for good.” Rose’s soft yet excited voice broke the stillness that followed.
“Amen! Let us all thank Him.”

Questions? Comments? Observations?

All Things For Good - Part 1

Good Morning Fabulous Friday Fiction Fans,
Tis a lovely morning although it is supposed to be another HOT day. I don't remember ever having a summer here where it was in the 100s so long!


I've been kept occupied. The mail is fun to get now days. Since Priscilla De Silvosa is going on that trip of hers, we've gotten lots of mail every day from different states. Yesterday for example, we received info from 9 states. Some states only send one packet while others have every city, county, or town (or so it seems) send something. The state that has sent the most has been, hands down, MN! But boy, oh boy does this trip of hers look like fun!:)


The Western is coming along. I keep wanting to get to the end of it, but I can't rush it or no one would be happy and besides, Carson, Ty and Sally aren't people you can rush when they don't want to be rushed. :)


This story was an assignment which I gave to my Scribblers some time ago. My friend took the picture and when I saw it, I knew there was a story in it. Since it is long, I'm only going to post half of it today. Enjoy! Abigail, I didn't think you'd mind reading it again.:)


Oh, yes, don't forget to go to the end of this post to read more about Miss Priscilla De Silvosa's trip!
Okay, so much for getting pictures up. This is giving me problems. I'll try to get the pictures up later.

All Things For Good
by
Rebekah M.

Rose gave a deep sigh of satisfaction as the car made the last turn before her home was reached. From the driver’s seat her dark haired, dark eyed fiancé glanced over at her. Her reddish blonde hair, pulled loosely back from her face, was tied with a dark blue ribbon which just matched her eyes. To him she had never looked so sweet.
“Are you that eager to reach home?”
Her bright smile flashed across her face as she answered, “Only because I get to see Daddy. I don’t know what I would do if we were going to move far away after we get married.”
Josiah laughed but didn’t answer as he pulled into the driveway. A large, slightly old fashioned, red brick house with white trim around the windows stood before them. Flowering bushes almost hid the lower windows while next to the small porch an overgrown rose bush almost reached the roof and sprawled out toward the path. Rose gasped and clutched his arm.
“Rose, what is it?” Josiah demanded.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Honey, we just got here. He’s probably inside.”
“Something is wrong, Jose, he never lets the grass grow this long. Something must have happened!”
“Now don’t start to worry, maybe the lawnmower was broken.”
Rose shook her head. Almost running up the walk she tried the door. It was locked. After fumbling in her purse for the house key, she tried with trembling hands to insert it. Finally Josiah reached out and gently took the key and turning it in the lock, opened the door.
“Daddy! Daddy, where are you?”
Silence was the only answer.
“Daddy! Daddy!” the words were frantic. “Jose, we have to find him!”
“Calm down. We’ll search every room. Perhaps he had to run an errand.” Josiah’s words were soothing and together they began to look through the house with its host of rooms, many of which were hardly ever used. It was no use. The house was empty.
When the last room had been looked into, Rose turned frightened eyes towards the stairs and gave a half sob. Josiah’s arm went around her.
“It’s going to be all right, Rose,” he soothed.
Suddenly she stiffened. “Jose! We have to find him! He must be hurt. Call the hospitals, the police. He was kidnapped. He’s dead, something happened to him!”
“Whoa, Rose! Listen to me!”
“No, we have to do something! We have to do something now!” Her hands clenched and her knuckles showed white through her skin.
“Rose!” When she wouldn’t quiet, Josiah grasped her shoulders and turned her face to his. “Stop,” he ordered. “You are only making it seem worse. Get a hold of yourself now.”
With an effort, she finally calmed down, but still looked white and shaken.
Drawing her gently downstairs, Josiah set her in an easy chair and brought her a glass of water. “Now,” when she had regained a little color, “let’s think of what we can do.”
“Call Sergeant Dwight. He knows Daddy.” Rose brushed away a tear. “Maybe he can help.”

“And there is no note on his desk or the dining room table?” Sergeant Dwight asked.
Both of them shook their heads.
The sergeant was quiet, his brow drawn in thought. “Who is his lawyer, Rose?”
“Edward Randolph”
“Called him?”
Rose shook her head.
“I think I would. Who knows, he might know something. Let me know what he says. I’ll keep my eyes and ears alert for any leads. But for now, I’ll have to go.”
Josiah followed the sergeant to the door for a few last words.
“I really don’t know what to tell you. Check the windows for signs of break-ins, check with the neighbors, and talk with his lawyer.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that. I just don’t want to panic Rose more than necessary.”
The sergeant nodded. “I understand. Call me with any news. Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”
Josiah thanked him and turned back to the living room and Rose.

“Rose, you have to get some sleep.” Josiah’s voice was firm yet coaxing at the same time.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Try. You’ll need your strength in the morning. I promise to wake you if anything happens.”
“The lawyer?”
“It’s after hours. I’ll try first thing tomorrow. Now get some rest.”
To this Rose at last reluctantly agreed and went up to her room with heavy steps.

“Yes . . . I see . . . Of course . . . Thank you, we’d appreciate that. . . . You too, good bye.”
“Well?”
Josiah hung up the phone and turned to Rose who was standing beside him. “Mr. Randolph had a stroke three days ago and is in the hospital. His secretary hasn’t gotten to see him nor does she know anything about your father.”
For several minutes Rose stood in pale silence trying to calm her taut nerves.
Her fiancé watched her in concern. Would the strain be too much for her? If only they had some clue. The neighbors hadn’t known anything except that no one remembered seeing Mr. Davidson since the week before last. There had been no news from Sergeant Dwight and now this discouraging phone call. Into his thoughts Rose’s painfully quiet voice broke.
“Let’s go through every room and look for some note. It could have slipped behind something like . . .” her words died away into nothing, and she stared into vacancy.
“Rose?”
She came out of her reverie with a start and the search began. Each room was thoroughly gone over. Every scrap of paper carefully looked at. Every drawer was taken out to see if anything had fallen behind it. Every thing movable was moved. The search went on with only a short break to get a bite to eat at Josiah’s insistence.

Come back next Friday for the rest of the story.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The plans for this trip are growing and will be oh such fun! If you have not yet picked the specific states you wish go travel to, do so now after you check to see if there is still room. All states with an X beside them are full. If they have a 1 beside them, then they have room for one more person. Some of them might have a ? and that is because someone has reserved those states, but isn't sure yet if they can go. If a state is not on the list, than it is open. The packets of information which have been coming to me have sparked my interest in this trip as never before! I can't wait to get started!
My companion is checking her calendar to see if she is going to be able to make the trip. I sure hope she can. I know she would enjoy it.:)
I hope you know your state postal codes.:)
AK -1
AZ -X
CA -1
FL -1
GA -1
IA -1
KY -?
ME -1
MT -1
NV -?
NM -?
SC -?
VA -1

If you want to come, let me know! ~ PDS

On Being Neighborly

Good Morning FFFs,
A
Happy Anniversary to my grandparents and a happy BIRTH-day to my newest
nephew!!!!! I can't wait to see him! He was born this morning about
4:00. I'm an aunt for the fourth time! :) The two other nephews are
outside right now with Papa. They don't know about the Baby. My niece
was going to spend the night but she got sick and went home. My
grandparents are coming tomorrow for the day. Busy. And I'm tired.
I've
been trying to write as many evenings as I can. I didn't get to it last
night since the kids were here. Don't know if the boys will be here
tonight as well or not. I'd like to at least get the Western I'm
working on finished before we leave town on Mon. I know I'll see some
of you Favorite Friday Fiction Fans next week.:) I'm looking forward to
it.

I
was trying to decide what to post this morning and since everything has
been a little crazy and somewhat stressful, I decided to post a
light-hearted story. Sorry, Abigail, you've already read it, but surely
you won't mind reading it again.:)

On Being Neighborly

The day was bright and sunny, the perfect kind of day to clean house.
Or at least that is what Mrs. Lewis thought. Trotting about her small
home she gaily hummed a merry tune while her dust cloth flew hither and
thither. Before long she was ready to shake her small rugs.
“Oh, dear,” she sighed. “These larger ones are just too big for an old
lady like me to shake. But they do need shaking.” She paused, head
tipped to one side in contemplation. “Now if I just had a place to hang
them, I could beat them as I used to do when a girl. Let me see--” As
she gazed about, her eyes fell upon the fence around the Dalta’s yard.
“That would be just the thing.”
Before she could carry the first rug out, her telephone rang. It was
her grand-daughter.
“Nana, can I come over? Mom has to take Miles to the dentist.”
Mrs. Lewis was excited, “Of course you can come over, Kitten. I’m
cleaning house today and you can help me.”
“That sounds fun! See you soon!” and Kitty, known to most as Kitten,
hung up the phone.
Mrs. Lewis managed to hang one rug over the gate before Kitty arrived,
eager to help.
“We have to hang all these large rugs on the fence, and then I’ll let
you beat them while I scrub the floors,” Mrs. Lewis beamed at her
helper.
Kitty gave a little skip. “Okay. What do I beat them with?”
Mrs. Lewis, with Kitty tripping along behind, climbed the attic stairs
and after a little searching, found the old wire rug-beater. Kitty was
delighted and dashed down the stairs to begin.
Soon the dust was flying off the rugs in wild fashion as Kitty,
pretending she was a famous tennis player, smacked them vigorously,
glad the wind was blowing the dust away. What she didn’t notice was
where it was blowing.
“Hey, You!”
The voice, gruff and harsh, startled Kitty from her imaginary world of
tennis. She paused in the middle of a swing and looked up. A violent
fit of coughing was all she heard, and she could see no one. Shrugging,
she was raising her ‘racket’ again when the voice called once more
still sounding rather choked up.
“You, girl. What do you think you’re doing?”
This time Kitty saw a face looking out at her from a window on the
other side of the fence.
“I’m beating rugs for Nana.”
“Didn’t you know all the dust was blowing right into my house?”
Kitty’s eyes opened in surprise. “Is it? I’m sorry. If it was blowing
the other way, Nana couldn’t clean the house.”
“Well, it’s making my house filthy.”
“You could shut your window until I’m done,” Kitty suggested politely.
“Humph,” Mr. Dalta snorted and began to do just that when suddenly he
stopped. “Those rugs are on my fence!” he shouted.
Kitty smiled. This was certainly a funny man. “Of course they are, Nana
doesn’t have any fence.”
“But,” protested Mr. Dalta, “you can’t use it!”
“I can too,” Kitty corrected, “see?” And she gave a rug two solid
whacks with her rug-beater.
Mr. Dalta tried to speak but only got a face full of dust and began to
cough. He slammed down the window and disappeared.
Kitty shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and gave a little laugh.
People could be rather strange at times.
Mrs. Lewis, hearing the raised voice of her neighbor, set her pail of
soapy water in the corner of the room, and hurried outside.
“Kitten Dear,” she began, “what is going on?”
“He said the dust was getting into his house.”
Mrs. Lewis shook her head. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” she moaned. “I should
have remembered the wind would blow the dust. Now what can we do?” As
she thought, her eyes caught sight of the long green hose in Mr.
Dalta’s yard. “Oh, Kitten, wait just a moment. I’ll fix the rugs so the
dust won’t blow.”
So saying, she trotted to the gate, and opening it, scurried to the
hose. It took some time for her to get it over to the fence, but at
last it reached. “Now Kitten, come in here and turn on the water. I’ll
just wet these rugs. That’ll keep the dust down.”
Kitty, wondering a bit, followed Nana’s directions and turned on the
water.
“Hey, you!”
Kitty turned. There at the back door stood Mr. Dalta leaning on his
cane.
“What are you doing now?”
“Turning on the hose. Nana is making it so the dust won’t blow into
your house.”
“But what are you doing in my yard?” Mr. Dalta came out of the house.
What a silly man, Kitty thought. I just told him what I was doing. But
because her mom had taught her to be polite, she replied, “I’m turning
the water on. Nana had to use your hose.”
“Turn it off now, Kitten,” Mrs. Lewis called having soaked the rugs
well.
“What are you doing in my yard and using my things?” Mr. Dalta
grumbled.
“Oh, Mr. Dalta,” Mrs. Lewis began, “I’m so sorry my dust got into your
house. I’ll try to get it out if you want. I’m an excellent
housecleaner.”
Mr. Dalta shook his head. “You’re in my yard. Didn’t you see the No
Trespassing sign?”
Kitty and Mrs. Lewis looked at each other in bewilderment. What sign?
They hadn’t seen any sign.
“Where is the sign?” Kitty asked.
“Why it’s on the fence.” Rather indignantly, Mr. Dalta shuffled towards
his fence peering at it sharply. Mrs. Lewis followed, puzzled by her
not seeing the sign. After Kitty had neatly put the hose back in place,
she too, followed and looked at the fence.
“Perhaps,” Kitty began when none of them had seen any sign anywhere,
“we could see it from in Nana’s yard.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mr. Dalta said, nodding approvingly.
“It sure is,” Mrs. Lewis put in, adding, “I always knew Kitten was a
bright child.”
Once they were through and Kitty had carefully shut the gate behind
them so as not to let any dog out, for she had just noticed an old dog
house in the yard, the three began searching again. Nothing could be
found that resembled a sign, and Mr. Dalta sighed.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Lewis fluttered, “you are probably worn out now. Why
don’t you have a seat here in the shade, and I’ll bring some lemonade.
Kitten Dear, why don’t you finish those rugs.” With that she hurried
into her kitchen.
Kitty hurried back to the rugs and gave one a good smack. A spray of
dirty, dusty water drops spattered all over her. “Ugh,” she spat out a
bit of dirt. “I think I’ll have grey freckles now,” she giggled.
Closing her eyes and mouth tightly, she hit the rug again. By the time
Nana had reappeared, she was quite bespattered with grime.
“Come, Kitten, have a glass of lemonade with us,” Mrs. Lewis called to
her faithful worker.
As Mr. Dalta drank his lemonade, he kept looking towards the fence
surrounding his yard. Something looked different, yet he couldn’t
figure out what it was. He knew the rugs hanging there didn’t belong,
but what was causing the strange look? Perhaps it was just that he was
on the other side of it.
“Hello!” a voice called.
Mrs. Lewis stood up quickly. “Oh, Miles, please don’t tell me you must
take Kitten home now,” she begged as her grandson jumped off his bike
and leaned it against the porch.
“Only if you want to get rid of her,” he grinned.
“Oh, no indeed! But here, you must be hot after riding over, do have
some lemonade.”
“Thanks.” Miles accepted the glass and rapidly drained it. After
drawing a deep sigh, he said, “Got anything for me to do, Nana?”
Before Nana could reply, Kitty spoke up, “You can turn the rugs for me
so I can beat the other side.”
Together the two moved over to the fence.
“But these things are soaked!” Miles protested grabbing the edge of
one. “Gross, what happened to them?”
“The dust was going into Mr. Dalta’s house, and Nana got them wet so
the dust wouldn’t blow,” Kitty explained.
“I’ll bet the dust won’t blow. It won’t come off very well either.”
“Oh, yes it does,” his sister argued. “Just look at me.”
Miles couldn’t help laughing. Kitty was quite a sight with grey
speckles and splotches all over. Her face, usually showing a sprinkling
of freckles, now showed only dirt.
Taking a step back from the fence, Miles surveyed the rugs. Then he
sauntered back to Nana and Mr. Dalta.
“Uh, I hate to say this, but those rugs are pulling the fence down.”
“What!” exclaimed Mr. Dalta, struggling to his feet. “Well, do
something before they ruin my fence! How am I going to keep anyone out
if my fence comes down?”
“Oh, dear, this is just dreadful. Miles, why are the rugs pulling the
fences down?” Mrs. Lewis was nervously grasping Miles’ arm.
Matter-of-factly, Miles explained that the weight of the water had made
the rugs very heavy, thus they were bending the wires of the fence.
“Oh, my!” Mrs. Lewis was quite impressed. “I always knew you were a
wonder in school. Now isn’t that something, Mr. Dalta?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” that gentleman sputtered. “But my fence! Boy,”
he began turning to Miles, “did they teach you anything about fixing a
pulling down fence?”
Only saying he thought he could fix it, Miles went back to the rugs.
With Kitty’s help, he soon had the rugs airing in the grass and began
to straighten the fence.
Only then did Kitty notice. “Look, Nana, Mr. Dalta, there is the No
Trespassing sign. A rug must have hidden it.”
Mr. Dalta sighed in relief. “I knew I had one up. Then you were
trespassing, and I should call the police.”
“Oh, Mr. Dalta,” Mrs. Lewis began, “we weren’t trespassing.”
“You weren’t?”
“No, we were only being neighborly and helping you out. Now, would you
like to stay while I make some chocolate cake?”

Did you like it?:)

The Graham Quartet and the Lonely Cabin

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,

I wonder how many of you are ready for this story? No, it is not the Western. I tried writing the next part last Sunday, but I just couldn't get into it. I'll try again this Sunday. Thankfully I didn't have to rely on the Western for something to post nor did I have to scramble around to get something. I have a Scribbler assignment that I just finished, so I decided to post that as it is a story. So, if any of you readers are Scribblers, don't read it unless you have your assignment done or almost done. :)

Yes Abigail, each of the names of the children last weeks story were rivers. Did you figure out just where they were? They were from, U.S., Africa, Australia, U.K., Middle East and another from Asia. Of course they don't go in that order.:)

Some of you may notice a new feature on my blog. I now have just to the right, a list of all my labels. (I started putting labels on my posts.) Now, if you want to read all the Western at once, just click on "Western" and it will pull them all up. Same with poems, children's stories, etc. So, I hope you can use that new feature sometime.

I want to give you a quick update on my book. :) I have had several more people give me some feed back and so far, they all say to publish it. :) My photographer has only one more picture to take for the book. Should I share some of them here on my blog? And another question for those of you who are reading or will read my book, should there be a "family tree" in the front to help keep everyone straight?

And now the story. This story had to be 2000 words or under. I just got it under by five words or so.:} I also had to use four characters only in my story. I could mention others, but only four were to be in it. Enjoy!

The Graham Quartet and the Lonely Cabin
by
Rebekah Morris

Snow lay everywhere. Every branch of every tree was laden with the white stuff just waiting to drop down on some unsuspecting head. However, not a person was to be seen. Nothing but snow was visible all around the cabin. Nothing moved. Nothing could be heard. Not even a bird sang or a squirrel chattered. Though not a breath of breeze blew, the air was bitterly cold, the type of cold that penetrates through coats and scarves to the very bone. All the shining of the mid day sun in the clear blue sky couldn’t add warmth to the day, but rather only enhanced the freezing air. There was no sign of life in the cabin. No light, no sound, no smoke. All was still. Still and intensely cold.

This sense of quietness was broken at last by the faint far-off creaking of snowshoes. Closer and closer they came. In the quiet the sound seemed louder, more obtrusive. Drawing nearer and yet nearer the cabin, the steps continued. Now two distinct sets of snowshoes were heard. Behind a clump of pine trees the intruders halted. Silence once again prevailed.

After several minutes of watching and listening to nothing but the stillness around them and feeling the bitter cold penetrating their layers of clothing, one of them, the oldest, spoke in tones scarcely audible.
“I don’t see anything. Perhaps we should move up.”
“Not until we know Elsa and Tim are in place.”
“They could be there waiting for us.”
The smaller form shook her head. “They’d have given the signal.”
“I suppose you’re right, as usual.” Seventeen-year-old Matt’s eyes smiled down at his younger sister.

For several more minutes they waited, hearing nothing but quiet. Suddenly the stillness was shattered rudely by the sharp crack of a twig breaking. Then another. Matt and Selena looked at each other questioningly. Was this the first part of the signal? As if in answer two more snaps were heard almost immediately. That was it! The signal they had waited for. Now it was time to advance.

Slowly, with great caution, the two slipped from their hiding place. Matt was in front while Selena followed closely. They approached the cabin from the front. All was hushed save for the squeaking of their snowshoes. Selena, pausing for just a moment and listening hard, thought she heard a similar creak coming from behind the house.

Then without warning, another crack of a twig breaking startled them both. They froze in their tracks hardly daring to breathe. What was that? Another crack followed by two more was heard. How could that be? The signal had already been given. Was this a trap? Had they just imagined the first signal?

Slowly Matt turned his head to look at his sister. Her eyes were wide and questioning. What should they do? There was no place to hide; they were half way to the cabin. Should they risk going on or should they wait? Matt made gestures, asking Selena what she thought. He didn’t dare speak even in a whisper now. He thought they could go on, but knowing Selena was not reckless, he wanted to know what she thought. To his surprise, Selena motioned forward and nodded. It was too risky to wait out in the open. Better to be right next to the cabin.

With twice as much caution the two continued their way, eyes and ears tuned to anything that might mean danger. Each creak of their snowshoes was as a shout to their taut nerves. They hardly dared breathe. When a small shower of snow fell with a soft plop without warning in front of Selena, she started and just barely managed to choke back a scream. As it was, her sharp intake of breath alerted Matt, and he turned quickly. For an instant they stared at each other then slowly lifted their eyes to the branches above them. There was nothing there. All it had been was a branch shaking off its blanket of snow.

Selena shivered and once again they set off stealthily. When they reached the cabin, they paused. Matt carefully, cautiously pressed his ear to the door and listened. Nothing. Not a sound could be heard behind that wooden partition which separated inside from out. Leaning close to Selena he breathed,
“Should we go in?” Matt was not at all fearful, yet he had learned that though his sister was only fourteen, she often had more caution and wisdom in tight or dangerous situations than he.
He was not surprised therefore when she shook her head and replied equally low,
“Not yet.”

Meanwhile on the hill behind the lonely cabin, nineteen-year-old Elsa was holding a conference with her youngest brother. “I don’t see any smoke, Tim. Do you?”
Tim had been gazing down at the cabin. “Could be it is only a small fire. You know,” he added, “wouldn’t want to give it all away.”
Elsa nodded. The boy’s keen brain and quick thinking were constantly amazing her. Now, with great care they began their decent. By keeping close to the trees and using them as walking sticks they managed to make the decent without any mishaps other than breaking some twigs now and then.

At last the level ground was reached. Both paused a moment and listened. There was nothing to listen to. All was still. Before them lay several yards of open ground where the sun shone in dazzling splendor on the carpet of snow. Elsa shaded her eyes with her heavily gloved hand and peered in the direction of the cabin. Not a sign of smoke could be seen from the chimney.

Tim turned to her with a frown between his eyes. He gestured towards the cabin and shrugged. Elsa also shrugged. Should they go on? The cabin looked uninhabited, but suppose it wasn’t? Suppose someone really was there, maybe hurt or sick? With a slight nod she started forward only to pause suddenly and look back up the hill. Was anyone watching them? They would be easy to see in the open. Satisfied that all was clear she once more set off. Their snowshoes made easy going over the drifts of snow. When at last they reached the shelter of trees once again, they gave an inward sigh of relief.

Elsa motioned for Tim to give the signal. Feeling around in his pocket, Tim frowned, pulled off his glove and felt again. At last he turned to Elsa. The look on his face and shrug of his shoulders told her that what he was to use as a signal had been lost. What should they do? Should they go on? She hesitated. They were so close, and yet, if Matt and Selena weren’t ready . . . She shivered, and Tim put a hand on her sleeve.
“We’ll freeze if we just stay here. I think we should go,” he whispered so low that had his mouth not been next to her ear she would not have heard the words.
Feeling the cold penetrating her coat she realized the wisdom of this, and together they started forward. Reaching the cabin from the rear, they halted, listening. Tim thought he heard a sound, faint but there. With gestures it was decided that they would each go a different way around the building, looking for signs of life and of Matt and Selena.

Crouching under the window against the wall, Matt and Selena waited. Each minute added to the growing numbness each was beginning to feel. They had heard no sound from inside. It seemed as though it had been hours since they had first heard the signal. How long did it take to get to the cabin? Suddenly Selena stiffened and grasped her brother’s arm. Had she really heard something? Footsteps perhaps. Was it from outside or in the cabin? Her breath began coming quicker, and she felt she would scream. She almost did when suddenly around the corner beside her Elsa appeared. Then around the other side came Tim. At last they were all together.
“Hear anything?” whispered Elsa.
Matt shook his head.
“There was no smoke and no light,” put in Tim. “What should we do?”
“Did you see any other signs?” Matt questioned.
Elsa and Tim shook their heads.
“Then let’s give the signal knock.”
Holding their breaths, the Graham siblings waited as Matt gave five quick raps on the door followed by two slower ones. They waited. Silence. Not a single solitary sound was to be heard. Selena shivered. She was cold. Matt knocked again, but still no answer.
“Perhaps he didn’t come,” Tim murmured.
“I think he would have let us know if he hadn’t,” Elsa answered.
After a moment of silence, Matt said softly, “I think we should just go in.”
Gasps came from the girls at the mere thought. But though they gasped, neither of them protested as Matt grasped the doorknob and turned it. It was locked.
“Search for a key somewhere,” he whispered.
They all looked. Even Selena who felt as though she was about frozen. It was no use. If a key was hidden somewhere abouts, they couldn’t find it.
“You know what that means,” queried Tim, wild excitement in his eyes. “It means,” he continued as the others looked at him, “that he is inside but is in dire need of help. He must be hurt and can’t get to the door.”
“Or it could mean he has gone and taken the key with him,” Matt observed.
“Or maybe he never came in the first place,” Elsa put in.
Selena didn’t speak. She was trembling from cold and excitement.
Matt glanced at her. “Well, we just have to get in, with or without a key.”
“Why?”
He nodded toward Selena.
Elsa put an arm about her younger sister. “Get in then,” was all she said, for at that instant she began to realize that she too was freezing cold as the excitement began to wane.

Matt and Tim began trying the windows. The ones on the front were locked or jammed, either way they didn’t open. On the side Matt at last found one that seemed loose. He pried and pushed it until at last he was able to raise it about twelve inches and there it stuck fast. Cautiously he moved the curtain and looked in. The room was empty. No one was there. It looked completely deserted.
“Tim,” Matt called quietly, “Do you think you can get in that window?”
“Sure thing.” Tim was game to try anything.
“Just remember,” Matt added, “you have more layers on than usual.”
For answer Tim pulled off his heavy coat, scarf and hat and shoved them inside the window first. Then with a boost from his brother he managed to squeeze through the window. It was with relief that the girls, waiting in the front, heard the door unlock and then saw it open.

A blazing fire had driven out the last finger of cold from the room leaving it cozy and warm. The four siblings sat about the table discussing the note Matt held in his hand.
“Read it again,” Elsa requested.
Matt read:

“Graham Quartet,
Sorry I couldn’t wait for you as planned. I just discovered I had to catch the next train. If I leave now I should make it. You probably won’t see my tracks as it is snowing. If you read this note that means you found the window I left unlatched. Thanks for all your help and hope to see you again. Take care and be careful.
Your friend,
Guy Fox”

“Well, that’s that,” Tim said.
“I just hope he’s safe,” murmured Selena almost to herself.
Matt and Elsa exchanged startled glances. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, but I think we were being watched. If whoever it was knows Guy isn’t here, then--” she stopped significantly while the others stared at her.
“Perhaps we should head back and talk to Dad.”

The End