Changes in the Wind- story title

Ok, here is more of my story.  Do you like the title???

A week had passed, Mary and Clara were still making sure that everything was in preparation for their father, and still no word came from him saying that he was coming.

Clara, disappointed as she was at the thought that he might not come home, tried her best to hide it from Mary. For Mary had enough worries on her shoulders, what with all the cleaning and baking to do.


Mary was, in her own way, slightly disappointed. She hoped that their father would come for he had been away an awfully long time, and yet she almost hoped that he wouldn’t come. She had never quite forgiven him for leaving them on frequent trips after their mother had died. Didn’t he need to stay home where she and Clara could comfort him, and he comfort them? She had tried to forgive him, she truly did, but down in the depths of her heart she knew she hadn’t forgiven him entirely. She supposed it would have been easier if.. oh she didn’t know. What did she know? Wasn’t she a simple ignorant farm girl, striving to keep up with the collectors pay? Wasn’t she only the first born, destined to do all the duties of the house while scraping together little bits of money so that Clara could go to school?


Mary took a piece of laundry off of the clothes line, snapped it to get the wrinkles out, folded it neatly, and set it in the basket. As she reached for another piece of laundry, her thoughts ran ahead of her.


What would life had been like if mother were still alive? She wondered as she folded a pair of drawers and set it in the basket. Would father still be home? Would work be easier? Would life have more joy in it?


Why was father so far away from home, any way? Would he really have stayed home, even if mother were still alive?


Mary had often heard her mother say that father was a restless sort of person, and liked to move about, though in all the years that their mother was living, Mary knew that he was never away longer than a fortnight, at the most.


Perhaps this was his way of grieving.


Angry thoughts flooded by her as she lugged the basket of laundry to the kitchen.


“Why?” She spoke aloud. “Why?”


“Why what?” Clara said as she came out of the door to greet Mary.


“Oh nothing… did you get the next wash finished?”


“Yes, everything is ready for the line, I was just headed out.” Clara gave Mary a smile as she passed by and headed to the clothes line to hang all of the wet laundry to dry in the warm sunshine and air.


“Mary seems rather out of sorts today,” she thought aloud to herself. Clara liked to talk, and if there was no one around to talk to, she simply talked to herself.


“I do so hope father comes! If he doesn’t Mary will be so upset. She has gone through so much to get ready, that it truly would be terrible if he didn’t come.”


She was silent for a moment while she pondered over what she just said.


“Clara, me love? Where ya be?”


“Over here, Hannah!” Clara called gaily. She paused in her work and tucked a stray strand of golden hair behind her ear.


An older woman, maybe in her forties, came huffing over to the young girl. She had a cap on her head, though this was slightly disarrayed from the work of the day, and an apron over an old work dress.


“Well saints alive, I never did so much work in my life!”


Clara smiled, “What is it Hannah?”


“Only a letter. It does na say who it is from, though the hand looks slightly familiar.” Hannah turned it over in her hands, before giving it to Clara, who took it eagerly.


“I think it is from father! Perhaps word confirming his coming.” She eyed it longingly, but put it into her own apron pocket to save to read with Mary.


“Well, I hope so! I never did see so much runnin’ around and doin’ one’s work like a chicken with it’s head cut off…” Her voice trailed away as she returned to the house and left Clara smiling to herself. Good old Hannah! What would they do without her?


Clara’s fingers were simple itching to open the letter, but she set her mind to her task instead, though even that was rather difficult.


When she had finished, she picked up her basket and raced to the house. Bursting through the door way, which had been left open in the fresh morning light, Clara raced to the end of the house where there stood a little ladder. Up the ladder she scrambled, and, just like she thought, she found Mary up in the little loft putting fresh ticking into the mattresses.


Mary didn’t look up as she said, “Clara! I do say, if you don’t stop running..”


Clara cut her short. “Mary, another letter from Father!”


Mary sighed and stood up from her previous kneeling position. Putting her hands on her hips she looked at Clara for a moment.


“All right. Aren’t you going to read it?”


Clara, who had already taken the letter out of her pocket, tore the seal and quickly unfolded the letter.


“Dear daughters, I hope to arrive next Thursday in the afternoon. My coach should arrive at three o’clock.


“With love, yours etcetera.”


Clara paused for a moment and looked at it with a mixture of dismay and excitement on her face.


“Whatever is the matter, child?” Mary asked as she noticed the crest fallen expression.


“Oh, it is just that I don’t think he wrote this himself. It looks more like one of his attendant’s hands.” She let her hands fall arms length while still clasping the letter.


“Perhaps he is just so busy packing his things, that he needed someone else to write,” Mary comforted.


Clara smiled, “I suppose so. What must we still do? I have put the laundry out to dry, but I never know what to do afterwards.”


Mary sighed and looked around the loft. “Well, let me think. I have got the ticking almost done, the laundry is drying, Hannah is cooking lunch….” Her voice trailed off for a moment as her brow furrowed in thought.


“I suppose the parlor could use a good sweeping.” She looked up at Clara.


“Done!” With green eyes dancing, her pink lips parted in a smile, Clara scrambled down the loft ladder and was gone.


Mary could soon hear her below, humming a little tune in beat with the ‘swish, swish’ of the broom against the wooden floor.


Kneeling down again, Mary continued with the ticking. By the time Hannah had lunch on the table, both girls were finished with their present tasks.


“Well,” Mary said as she sat down and sighed wearily. “We will have a busy week ahead of us, for now we know for sure that Father is coming.”


Clara nodded and put on a rather serious face. “Yes, I suppose you will… I, however, will be busy with other things.”


Mary jerked her head up in time to see the twinkle in Clara’s eyes.


“Oh?” She asked nonchalantly.


“Yes, though I suppose that perhaps I will be able to help you for a little bit.”


“Clara Madison! What are you up to?”


“Oh, nothing,” Clara tried to give the most innocent look to Mary. “I suppose you will have to wait and see.” Clara gave Mary an angelic look and continued eating her soup.






Next Thursday arrived and everyone was in a flutter. Last minute baking had to be done, fires stoked, and any other little cleaning things that needed doing.


Three o’clock came, and passed. Four o’clock, five o’clock, and still no Father.


Clara was beside herself with worry. Mary tried to stay calm, but she had a funny feeling in the bottom of her stomach. A feeling she got only when something dreadful was about to happen.


“Mary, do you suppose he got hurt?”


“I don’t know, Clara. Perhaps he only got stuck in some weather.”


“But the day is as fine as any!”


Mary was about to reply when they heard the chopping of horses hooves on the gravel outside. Both raced to the window and looked out.


A man in a dark cloak swung down from his steed and made his way to the door.


Mary and Clara went to the door, Clara slightly sooner than Mary, and opened it with expectant faces.


It was not their father. Mary’s feeling came back again in the pit of her stomach.


“Miss Madison?” He swept off his hat.


“Yes?” Mary answered with a slight tremor in her voice.


“I have come to inform you..” He paused, looked at the ground and twirled his hat in his hands. He swallowed hard and continued. “Have come to inform you that your father is.. is dead.”

Da-na-na-na!! lol!