Keeping Kinley by Annette K Larsen

Author:Annette K Larsen [Larsen, Annette K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781544235806
Published: 2017-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

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When I awoke the next morning, it took me the smallest of moments to remember why I was devastated. I wished that moment had lasted longer, but it wasn’t even the length of a breath. As soon as I inhaled, the smell of smoke wafted up from my hair. I blinked my eyes, feeling the swelling of my lids—the result of smoke and crying myself to sleep. The ceiling above me looked so normal—the beams stretching the length of my room, the wood old but unmarred. That wouldn’t be the case with my trees. When I walked out into the orchard today, the once vibrant and strong trunks and branches would be black and charred. Some might be completely lost, but I hoped—desperately hoped—that some would be all right, or at least that they would recover in a couple of years. Maybe there were even some that hadn’t been touched by the fire. Maybe, maybe . . .

However, I attempted to prepare myself for the possibility of a complete loss. Saints, what would I do if my trees never produced again? I pinched my lips against the panic that seized hold of me at the thought and stayed in bed.

I was surprised that Mama didn’t come banging on my door right away. It was probably half an hour before she knocked quietly, calling through the door that there was work to be done. There was pity in her voice. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard that tone from my mother.

“Coming,” I called back, and forced my feet to the floor. I dressed, braided my hair before tying a kerchief over it, and went to find something to eat. Not that I was in much of a mood for eating, but it was the next step.

The biscuits and apple preserves were admittedly delicious, but I found myself getting teary over the preserves.

Ridiculous.

I wasn’t going to sit in my kitchen and cry over food. I pulled my boots on and marched myself out of the house and straight for the orchard, my jaw clenched and my arms crossed as if they could protect me from what I was about to see.

As much as I tried to brace myself, the moment I saw the charred limbs and shriveled fruit, my throat tightened. I had to sniff and swallow and breathe to keep my composure. I stepped from the worn dirt path, now muddy and caked in ash, into what used to be ground covered in long grass, fallen leaves, and even wildflowers. Much of the green remained, only now there were patches of black earth, and the sound of the brittle stems being crushed beneath my feet was awful.

I continued walking, trying to assess the damage. Some trees were certainly worse off than others. Some only had a portion of their leaves shriveled and burned, while others looked black and skeletal. I knew right away that some would recover without difficulty, but only some, and I didn’t know how long it would take.

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