Wings of a Dream Read Online Free PDF

breathing out my words near her ear. “I’ll take care of them, Aunt Adabelle. I promise.”
    My aunt fought to pull in another breath. “There’s no one else.” She coughed out another flow of blood as my eyes filled with tears.
    “I don’t know if I—”
    “God sent you.” Her words rattled out with a heave as her spirit pushed free of her body and unabated silence covered the room.

T he rain started between the time I closed Aunt Adabelle’s eyes and the moment I arrived in the kitchen. It was appropriate, I guessed, the sky raining down the tears Ollie Elizabeth did not cry. I could tell she knew, even though I didn’t say the words aloud. Watching her determination to be strong made me think of Mama, and made me want to weep along with the sky.
    Two little boys looked up at me, too, their eager faces already smeared with breakfast. Ollie placed another bowl on the table, this one in front of a chair on the end, the place I assumed my aunt had occupied. I should have taken over the breakfasting, but I sensed the girl’s need to keep at it, so I sat. The boys stared at me with wide eyes as their spoons traveled from mouth to bowl and back again. Ollie dribbled molasses on top of the colorless blob in my bowl.
    “Thank you.” I managed to pick up my spoon and stir in the thick sweetener. I wouldn’t slight her for the world, yet I had no desire for food of any kind. Aunt Adabelle lay dead in the other room. And I had no idea what to do next.
    Ollie remained beside my chair. I shoved a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth and forced it down my throat.
    “That’s James and Dan.” She nodded at the boys, her brothers. “James just turned six. Dan turned four last summer.”
    “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, feeling ridiculous.
    They looked at each other. I could almost see the thoughts flying between them, requiring no words to be understood.
    “This is—” Ollie stopped short, staring at me.
    “Rebekah,” I finished for her.
    A wail pierced the air. The wail of a baby. My heart leapt into my throat. How young of a baby? Could it eat? Walk? Talk?
    Ollie scurried up the stairs while James scowled. Dan copied his brother’s face.
    I had no idea what to say to them. I hadn’t had many conversations with little boys. Especially those bereft of both their mother and the one who had stepped in to fill her place. How would I tell them their Miss Ada was dead? Even now, did they really understand what “dead” meant?
    Cold prickled my skin. I pressed my hands to my face and suggested more fuel for the stove. James and Dan both scrambled off the bench seat.
    “You get two pieces. I’ll carry three,” James said.
    “I can carry three.” Dan hurried after his brother, his face fixed in determination.
    When they reappeared, small logs overflowed their arms. A wood stove? We used coal at home, but how different could it be? James shoved the fuel into the side of the stove, then shut the grate again as I crossed the floor.
    My anxiety quickly turned to pleasure, at least on this front. Six burners and a teapot or coffeepot warming stand in back. A warming shelf above and a hot water reservoir, too. A larger and newer range than Mama’s. I could manage this, even with the different heat source. Maybe I’d like it so much I would ask Arthur to buy one for our home.
    Ollie returned carrying a round-faced, golden-haired baby.
    “Oh!” I folded the cherub-like child—seven or eight months old in my estimation—into my arms. The baby grabbed my finger and pulled it toward her pink mouth. “And who is this little darling?”
    “Janie.”
    I bounced the dimpled girl up and down. She giggled and clapped her hands. I pulled her cheek to mine, inhaling her cotton-warmed-by-the-sun scent. The next moment she turned outstretched arms to her sister, aware, suddenly, that I wasn’t someone she knew.
    “Does she eat oatmeal, too?” I asked.
    Ollie cocked her head at me. “Of course.”
    My cheeks warmed. I