Lavender-Green Magic Read Online Free

they had? Holly was shocked out of her private misery to consider that. Before she dared whisper such a question to Mom, a door at the end of the very long room opened and Grandma came in.
    Just as Grandpa was much smaller than Holly had expected, Grandma was taller. She was thin and walked bent forward a little, as if she was always so eager to get to where she was going that she would push her head well before the rest of her. Her hair was pulled up to a tight knot on the top of her head and in that were two combs with glitteringstones set in them, one red, one green. On her nose was a pair of glasses, their rims bright red, curving up sharply at the sides. And they did not stay in place very well; she kept raising her hand to shove them back closer to her eyes. She had a sweater on, in spite of the room being so warm from the fire (plus a big stove on the far side of the table) that the Wades had loosened their coats and allowed them to slip off. But over most of this and a bright plaid skirt, she wore a big apron which had so many spots and stains of various colors spattered over it one could not be sure it had ever been white to begin with.
    â€œPraise the Lord for His mercy. Here you are safe an’ sound. An’ it is good, yes, it’s good, to see you, daughter!” She held out her arms to Mom, and Mom went right into them, as if she had wanted or needed nothing more than to have Grandma welcome her so.
    â€œGood He is to us, child.” Mom’s head was hidden now on Grandma’s shoulder. And Holly realized, with another stab of that queer fear, that Mom, the always strong one, was crying. “Good He is. Things come right in their own good time. So it has been for us. Many’s the dark hours we’ve had in the past, Luther an’ me, but there is always somethin’ the good Lord sends to be a comfort. I ain’t believin’ that Joel is dead. Don’t you give heart-room, or head-room, to such thinkin’ either! Joel, he’s a fighter—he ain’t going to be downed, not Joel!
    â€œNow you sit down here.” She led Mom over to a high-backed bench near the fire. “This is a day the Devil hisself might have sent to plague them what has to be out in it. Restyou, daughter, rest you an’ be comforted. You are safely home—an’ Joel will be, too. All in the Lord’s good time.”
    Mom was smiling a little now, though there were still wet tracks on her cheeks. “You make me believe that, Mother Wade.”
    â€œMercy—call me Mercy, daughter. It’s more friendly-like here. Now—so here’s the young’uns—” She gave a pat to Mom’s shoulder and swung about to give a searching survey to the children, pushing back her glasses twice with a kind of thump as if she must have every bit of aid those could offer in order to make sure she would know her grandchildren the next time she laid eyes on them.
    â€œHolly,” she nodded, “an’ Crockett, an’ Judy—”
    â€œDaddy calls me Bunny,” Judy spoke up.
    Grandma’s face crinkled in a smile. “Does he now. Well, he was always a boy to go giving things names what weren’t rightly their own. But somehow those names of his, they always fitted, anyhow. An’, look now at that clock! Luther, he’ll be wanting his vittles, an’ so might you. Feeling a little peckish?”
    Crock had been sniffing. “Something smells awfully good.” He grinned back at Grandma. “You make gingerbread? That Mrs. Pigot down at the store—she gave us some.”
    â€œMrs. Symmes’s baking, I’ll be bound.” Grandma nodded briskly. “No gingerbread. But if you’re like your daddy, you’ll take a fancy to the heel of one of my new loaves—with honey-butter to liven it up a bit.
    â€œNow”—she bore down on the table—“I’ll just get mybusy work out of here an’ lay out