Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

better off grazing in the spring and summer; but she understood that these horses were worn and tired and needed the nutrients. She poured corn oil into the buckets and mixed it around with her hand, and then allowed the horses to feed. By the time she led the young people back up to the house, the moon had risen, a half-moon fading in and out of view among the clouds.

“It will rain soon,” said Junetta.

Inside the warm farmhouse, Junetta lit several oil lamps, the wicks illuminated inside beautifully shaped glass stemming from a silver base. She lit candles and placed them in iron candlesticks, until the living room and kitchen glowed with the most peaceful, soft light.

“Sit down, rest your feet,” she said, motioning to the chairs and couch, and the others sat gratefully. “Stay here, I’ll bring us something to eat.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and Haley laid her head on a couch pillow, which felt heavenly.

The soft lights, the warmth, the smooth pillow against her cheek and the familiar smells of oak and lavender, herbs and patchouli all soothes her senses, and her eyelids drooped. The room blurred, and then cleared, and then blurred again, and then everything became wonderfully quiet and serene, peace, safety, comfort.

“I have toast and butter and fresh apple butter,” said Junetta, coming into the room. She stopped, and smiled gently. All three were fast asleep, breathing deeply. The worry lines on their foreheads had relaxed and they were curled up like children on the couch and chairs, their bodies unconsciously reverting to the sleeping patterns they developed in the first years of their lives, what their muscle memory knew to be safe, secure, sweet sleep.

“I’ll warm up the food in the morning,” said Junetta softly to herself. She pattered back into the kitchen and laid a napkin over the plate of toast and the jars of spreads, and then blew out the candles and the oil lamps, leaving one burning in the living room in case they woke up during the night. She locked the doors, and climbed the stairs to her own room. Slipping into her nightgown and crawling under the covers, she breathed an honest prayer, sighed deeply, and fell asleep.

+

Haley woke up to sunlight pouring through the window and the sound of a frying pan clinking on the stove and the smell of bacon. She inhaled sharply and sat up, confused for half a second before identifying her surroundings and remembering the events of the night before. Carlos and Elizabeth were still asleep, and Haley delicately lifted her weight from one side of the couch so to not bother Elizabeth on the other end.

In the kitchen, Junetta stood in her white nightgown, frying bacon in a pan over a charcoal grill. Next to the bacon sat a wooden bowl of fresh chicken eggs ready to be cooked, and the plate of toast and spread lay on the kitchen table.

The kitchen of Junetta’s farmhouse was the most magnificent place in the world to Haley. There was a large window facing the backyard vegetable and flower garden, and as a child she had spent hours watching the various species of birds flit to and fro, landing on the birdbath and the fence and the beanpoles. Cardinal, Junetta would say. Hummingbird. Raven. Bluebird. English sparrow--too many of those! They chase away the other birds. Goldfinch, and once in a while, a woodpecker, with its persistent rat-a-tat-tat-tat on the nearby tree branches.

To the left of the kitchen stove, on the wall, hung bunches of dried herbs, so that one could barely see the wall behind it. Rosemary, an intoxicating aroma, lavender, patchouli, thyme, lemongrass, bergamot, lemon verbena, fennel, and others that Haley could not name. Their scent wafted through the house at all times, and clung to Junetta’s clothes and person so that when Junetta entered a room, the most delightful sensation of being in a garden of wild aromatic herbs came with her.

Haley went to her grandmother and wrapped her arms around her. Junetta returned the embrace, kissing her granddaughter’s cheek.

“My brave, brave girl.”

“I’m not brave, I’m really terrified of all of it,” murmured Haley, clinging to Junetta.

“Sure, sure you are, and that’s okay. You don’t need to pretend that you’re not afraid. We just need to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Yes,” said Haley, but did not let go.

“Haley?”

“Yes?”

“Honey, the bacon is burning.”

“Oh,” said Haley, and took a step back. Junetta flipped the bacon pieces, which sizzled and spat from their fat submerged state.

“Haley, when you were little, you told me something that I’ve never forgotten. And that I’ve told you back many times since. What do we always say?”

“That we are...we are natural and resourceful.”

“You were very young when you said that, but is this any less true now?”

“No.”

“Well then, we must continue being natural and resourceful. We will not let this get the best of us, emotionally or physically or mentally. We are better than this. Fear, well fear we may have, and rightly so, but bravery cannot exist unless there is something to fear. And you, my dear, are brave whether you think so or not. Now, pour everyone some water, breakfast will be ready soon.”

That morning they all feasted until their stomachs could not bear another bite, on thick bacon slices and fresh eggs, canned cherries from last fall’s harvest, generous pieces of crisp toast with butter and apple butter, hot black coffee and thick cream. Haley thought she might have never tasted anything as delicious, and she only stopped eating when she literally could not swallow another bite.

“Today,” said Junetta as they all finished their meals, “today I want you all to rest. We can’t travel until night anyway. You are safe here; I am miles away from anyone, and all of my neighbors live the