Free September Wind by Kathleen Janz-Anderson Page B

turnoff, he pulled her into his arms, just like in her dr eams. But it was different now.
    “I’ll miss you ,” he said, his voice cracking.
    “Me t oo. I’ll miss you too, Daniel.”
    When he pulled back, she saw tears in his eyes. He squeezed her hand, and quickly turned away.
    She wanted to beg him to stay a while longer, to tell him it was okay to cry. But it was no use. She watched him walk away, becoming smaller and smaller. Finally, he looked back and waved. That was it, one last wave a nd he was gone out of her life.
    After he disappeared, the sobs began. Her tears flowed so that she could barely see her way home.
    Her eyes were red and swollen when she walked into the kitchen and came face to face with Grandfather. He had cut off a hunk of roast, and was pouring himself coffee.
    “ Where in the hell’ve you been?”
    She didn’t say anything, just sailed across the roo m to wash her face at the sink.
    She could sense hi s shock as he stood behind her.
    “Everyone’s waiting for dinner.” He said no more, didn’t yell like she thought he would.
    “It won’t be long,” she told him quietly.
    He went to sit on the front porch and she pulled everything out of the refrigerator and began to put dinner together. Maybe she would sneak the new kittens up to her room for the night. She pictured them snuggled in bed with her. Steven would take them to town in the morning. They’d be safe there. Some day she would leave for town too and never come back.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    (1958)
     
    Emily lifted her arms and wiggled just enough so that the gray and pink checkered dress slid down over her tall slender frame. Outside, the wind whipped around the house as though it was mid-winter. An icy draft came in through the windows causing goose-bumps to rise up her arms.
    She zipped up her dress, tied her hair into a ponytail, and then went to the window and pulled back the curtains.
                  The night before, the skies had been clear. Now snowflakes whirled with the moan of intensifying winds. She thought of her aunt a mile up the road. With the snow already piling up and no boots to wear, she didn’t know how she would make it over that afternoon.
                  From his cabin, Claude came across the yard, hunched over in his hooded jacket. When he looked up at her, she dropped the curtains and went to finish dressing.
    She stooped and tugged at the bottom of her long johns, loving the way the thick cotton warmed her legs. Pulling on a pair of knee high socks, she grimaced as she stepped into her sole-worn saddle shoes. She laced them up and grabbed a sweater off the back of a chair, ready to go down. Then something made her stop, go to the dresser, and pull out her mother’s sapphire ring. Although she took it out now and then, tried it on and marveled, she had only worn it once on her sixteenth birthday. She placed it on her finger, and then headed downstairs to make breakfast.
                  An hour later, the table was set with bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, fresh biscuits, and a dish of honey and another with jelly. The men were in good spirits as she brought over a fresh pot of coffee.
                  Back in late February when the last major storm came through, the men spent two days in the basement, happy as four pigs in a trough. Instead of chopping wood or making repairs, they played cards and drank beer as if the cool flakes and chill in the air meant that a leave of responsibility was in order.               Now, with the prospect of another storm, the gleam was back in their eyes.
                  Emily didn’t understand their reasoning, nor did she share their enthusiasm. This wasn’t just because of the demands and the reckless banter she would have to put up with, but mostly because she hadn’t made it to her aunt’s two weeks in a row. During her last visit, the old woman had been visibly troubled. Now if things didn’t