The Tea-Olive Bird Watching Society by Augusta Trobaugh

Author:Augusta Trobaugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2016-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

When she got home, Beulah carefully composed herself before she called Zion.

“Zion, can you manage the milking without me this morning?” she asked.

“Isn’t it kind of late to be asking that?” Zion sounded peeved. “Milking has already been done.”

“I’m sorry,” Beulah said sincerely. “I just don’t feel very good this morning.”

“I know that feeling.” Zion’s voice was softer. “After what all we went through yesterday, it’s a miracle either one of us can get out of bed. You just have a good cup of tea and try to rest.”

“A cup of tea,” Beulah repeated senselessly. “Yes, that will do it.”

For the rest of that entire day, Beulah walked around as if she had a terrible cold. She put on her bathrobe, drank cup after cup of hot tea and intermittently broke down into tears at the thoughts of that poor little bird and the deep wound that was certainly in Sweet’s heart. She moved about slowly and deliberately, often retreating to the corner of her couch, where she curled herself up as much as possible into a tight ball, all drawn in against the buffeting of the emotional winds that swirled around her.

By late afternoon, the weather itself had begun to imitate Beulah’s turmoil. The wind came up, tearing the few remaining autumn leaves from the tree in her side yard and rocking the chairs on her front porch.

“Cold spell coming,” she said to herself.

The next morning, she bundled up in her warmest clothes and drove out to Zion’s house. Deep, dark clouds were scudding across the predawn sky, and Beulah blew on her hands as she entered the milking parlor.

Zion had already set about the tasks required, and even she was wearing wool gloves with the fingers cut out. She glanced at Beulah, smiled wanly, and said, “We’d make these poor old cows jump sky-high, what with us having such cold hands this morning!” Smiling, she reached onto a shelf and handed Beulah a pair of wool gloves with the fingers cut out.

“Just blow your breath on your fingers,” Zion ordered. So they accomplished the milking and turned the cows out into a pasture where the morning dew had turned to crystal on the grass.

“Cold weather is coming,” Zion said, and Beulah nodded. “Let’s have us some good coffee.”

Sitting at Zion’s kitchen table a little later, they both cupped their warm mugs gratefully and sipped the strong, hot coffee.

“I’ve been thinking,” Zion said. And then she stopped.

“Thinking about what?” Beulah asked, unnecessarily.

“Him.”

No additional information, no explanation, just that one, simple word that seemed to carry its own brand of horror in its sound.

“What about him?” Beulah asked, pondering whether to tell Zion about the canary and wondering, if she did start to tell her, would she be able to get the words out without weeping once again.

“I think he’s more dangerous than we thought,” Zion explained. “I think he’s truly an evil man.”

Beulah saw in her mind the sad, crumpled body of the bird, heard Sweet’s pitiful crying from inside the house, and she nodded her head in agreement.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.