| OCR Text |
Show in my father's house/ 24 I felt dark and small and squirmy inside. "Are they mad at us, Mama?" "Mad enough that some of the brethren threatened to kill your father. That's why Brother Musser came to dinner tonight: to tell them once and for all. Now there's no changing it. It's in God's hands." Then she left, and I was alone. My heart was beating hard and I wanted to run down the hall after her. I thought of my father and wondered which of the brethren wanted to kill him. When I tried to close my eyes and sleep, I saw my ducks, half-plucked and bloody. Then, eyes wide and smarting in the dark, I remembered the scar on Grandfather's nose. The cut on my hand still hurt, even when I sucked on it. At last I got out of bed and stared out the window, my bare feet splayed on the hardwood floor, seeming to join with the chill of the fruit cellar beneath and with some deeper, older, darker winter than any I could remember. Suddenly I shuddered violently and pressed my face against the cold pane. There, in the ghostly bulk of the white house, stood my father beneath the cold starlight, alone. |
