Misfits and Miracles by Linda Zwicker

Author:Linda Zwicker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: road to avonlea, linda zwicker, zwicker
Publisher: Davenport Press

Chapter Eight

Sara whooped with dismay as, once again her arms windmilled, her feet whirled out from under her and she went crashing to the ice. Gasping for air, perspiring inside her heavy red woollen coat, her mittens soaked with snow, Sara lay panting on her back, looking up at the brilliant winter sky. It just wasn’t fair! Felicity and Cecily and even silly Sally Potts could all skate. Gliding gracefully across the ice, they looked like swans on a calm, summer river. I look like—like an elephant with a sprained knee! thought Sara. And that’s when it’s going well!

For the second morning in a row, Sara had risen at dawn, slipped out the back door, walked the short distance to the little pond at the bottom of the yard, strapped on her hand-me-down skates and proceeded to slide, tumble, crash and wobble across the ice. As a matter of fact, she did just about everything except skate. But Sara’s pride wouldn’t allow her to be coached, so this was the lonely task she had set herself. Whether she liked it or not, Sara told herself, she had to “grasp the nettle” and learn how to skate and compete, because that was the way the world worked.

Hetty watched from the kitchen window as Sara struggled to her feet, took one step forward, then another one, and another one, faster and faster, out of control—until she once again crashed to the ice. Hetty winced.

“Oh dear,” murmured Olivia, as she joined Hetty at the window, “those are bruising falls. Poor Sara.”

Hetty finished her cup of English breakfast tea. “That settles it,” she announced, setting her teacup down with a clatter on the table.

“Settles what, Hetty?”

Hetty reached for her coat and muffler. “It,” she confirmed, as she flung open the back door. “Sara?” She beckoned. “It’s schooltime. Come along, now.”

Sara waved weakly, crawled on her hands and knees to the edge of the ice and took off her skates, relieved that she had a reason to quit practicing.

As Hetty and Sara tramped to school, it occurred to Sara that the sympathy brought on by her bruised knee might encourage Aunt Hetty to respond to some searching questions. As Sherlock Holmes once commented, “A good detective is always on the case!” But she’d have to proceed skillfully, deftly.

“Aunt Hetty you look very nice today,” Sara observed.

Hetty’s eyebrows shot up. “I do? Good heavens, these are just everyday clothes, child. Nothing fancy. I’m not given to fancy things.”

“Oh, I know. But I meant your—your face, Aunt Hetty. You must have been very pretty when you were young—younger I mean.”

Hetty smiled. “Well, I had nice hair, if I do say so myself, and good posture. But I was no beauty, that’s certain.”

Sara limped as pathetically as she could. “A great poet once said ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’” she mused, dreamily. “Your friend John must have thought you were beautiful, didn’t he?”

Hetty paused. “Yes,” she murmured, “I suppose he did.”

Sara took a deep breath, choosing her next words carefully.

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