Country Homecoming

Yesterday, my publisher sent the edited version of Grave Heritage. Now, I’ll go through, check revisions, agree or disagree and we’ll be one step closer to that fall release date. I’ve included an excerpt from Grave Heritage this morning. Darcy and Flora have had an exhausting day. Instead of being closer to solving a murder, they are faced with a second one. Jethro meets them at the door of their new house on Granny Grace’s acres. They are home. They are safe. Or, are they?

As I drove around the house, and into the garage to park beside Mom’s Toyota, a sense of homecoming met me. I loved the trees that seemingly stood guard near our home, the welcoming porch, and the small cat who waited inside the door.

Whippoorwills called from the hollow. A nighthawk darted through the twilight, scooping up tiny insects. Lightning bugs blinked above the grass.

Jethro peered through the glass patio door, impatient to greet us. He meowed a welcome as we stepped inside the kitchen, winding around first Mom’s ankles, then mine. Checking his food dish, I saw that it was nearly full. Jethro had his little habits, just as we humans do. Many times he would eat very little or nothing until he was sure that his people were safely home.

Stooping, I ran my hand over his sleek fur. “Have you been a good watch cat?”

“He’s probably holding out for a little bit of cream,” Mom said. “It won’t take long to mix up some cornbread for us, although I don’t think Jethro would care for it. Does cornbread and milk sound all right to you for supper?”

“It sounds perfect,” I answered.

I set the table, poured milk and placed the butter on the table. Soon the aroma of baking bread filled the kitchen. My stomach growled.

Later, sitting at the dining table and gazing out the patio doors to the woods beyond the garage, which were partially lit by the dusk-to-dawn light, I idly wondered if some of the inhabitants of those woods were looking in at us. What did the ’possums, skunks, raccoons, and rabbits think about us? Did they see us as interlopers in their domain or just fellow creatures whose home looked different from theirs?

“What a day,” Mom murmured, buttering a piece of warm cornbread.

“Heart-wrenching and exhausting,” I answered. “Far too much drama.”

“If you want to call it that; anyhow, it was tiring, I agree, and sad.”

“Yes, it was sad. I guess it takes a while to actually believe someone is gone when death is so sudden.