Free Free Falling by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

John to drag in firewood and David to check on the horses and the goat. When they came back into the kitchen, their clothes were wet. Sarah was pulling muffins out of the oven. She poured the tea.
    “Horses okay?” she asked, handing John a towel for his wet hair.
    “They’re fine,” David said. His injured hand was bandaged and he held it out away from his body. He said he had slammed it in a fast closing gate at Seamus and Dierdre’s. It reminded her that there were so many ways to get hurt these days and without antibiotics or even topical ointments, the simplest cut quickly could become infected.
    “What about the sheep?” John asked. “They’ll freeze to death out there.”
    David took a hot muffin and sat down at the kitchen table.
    “Dierdre said they’ll be fine. They’re all wearing wool coats, you know. But we’ll check on them later to make sure they’re good.”
    That appeared to satisfy John. He wolfed down two muffins and a mug of tea.
    “What about the chickens?” she asked.
    The two had created a makeshift coop for the three chickens and one rooster given to them by Dierdre and Seamus. They had hitched one of the horses up to a rudimentary harness and dragged a large piece of useless and rusting farm equipment out of what looked like a small barnyard shed. They had prepared the inside as Dierdre had suggested with bedding and pine shavings on the floor. At the time, Sarah had watched them work together and felt her heart lift at their obvious closeness and the sounds of their voices and laughter. She thanked God for it and realized, again, that this too was an answer to prayer. She thought of the sheep and wondered if, like the stupid sheep, she didn’t really know what to pray for, but was being given by God what she needed—in spite of her ignorance. She smiled to herself. At least she was smart enough to know when she received it, she thought, that it was grace.
    “Dierdre said they should be fine in their coop for the winter,” he said, reaching for another muffin.
    “I had no idea it would snow this early in Ireland.” Sarah said as she poured her own tea and sat down.
    “Dierdre said people are leaving the area,” David said.
    “What do you mean? They’re leaving Balinagh? Why? Is it better in the cities?”
    “I guess they think so. Or maybe they’re just moving to be closer to family. I mean, look at us, here. It’s really hard just making breakfast happen. Most people wouldn’t live like this if they had a choice.”
    “I don’t like the feeling of being out here by ourselves.”
    John hopped up from the table.
    “I’m tacking up Star,” he said, shrugging into his jacket. “Gonna check on the sheep in the far pasture.”
    Sarah frowned. Give it to God Give it to God Give it …She looked at David.
    “Yeah, I’ll go with him,” he said, shivering in anticipation of the cold. “Wait up, sport,” he said. But John was already gone.
    “It is hard here,” Sarah said.
    “Yeah,” David said. “But unlike everyone else, we don’t have a choice.”
    He pulled on his jacket and one glove, tucked another muffin into his pocket and followed his son to the barn.
                Sarah put the dishes in the sink and punched down the dough for the bread she was planning for lunch. She was going to serve up the goat butter she had made earlier. John was right. They were all going to get rickets.
                An hour later, she wandered out to the barn to pat a few horses’ noses. It made her feel more confident the more she was around them. She picked up the chicken feed bowl and visited the coop first. The three chickens were huddled on their perches eyeing her with malevolence, it seemed to her. Hey, I don’t make the weather , she thought, tossing them a spray of seed which they ignored. She looked around for the rooster. He was probably strutting around outside somewhere. She felt under each hen and brought away two eggs which she tucked one in