A/N: Hello all. Oh lordy … it's been like 2 months since I updated this story. I would like to thank you for your kind words regarding this story. I do have one request … if you read and enjoy this (or not) please REVIEW! I love feedback.
I am trying to crank out this fic (it's a pleasure thinking of what-if scenarios) but I am studying abroad in Italy for the summer …. So my progress will be slow at best. Thanks for your patience. Keep reviewing. Xo.
Every morning at 4:30 a.m., Herman Gabor would carefully arise. It was his job every morning to feed the cows, horses, and chickens. He always tried his hardest not to wake his wife Fanny, but she always managed to sleep soundly. That was, until their youngest son Melchior was sent to the reformatory last month.
This day was no different, except that it was bitterly cold. Herman rose gently from Fanny's side. Mercifully, she slept through his getting up from the creaky old bed. He quickly washed his face and hands and dressed warmly in the dark. Herman had memorized the path to their closet. He quietly went out the door that lead to the kitchen and picked up the feed bucket.
Wendla Bergman wasn't sleeping so well either. Her stomach was still nauseous, especially so in the mornings. The only thing that would make her feel better was to lose the contents of her stomach. She unwound herself from Melchior's protective grasp around her middle and quickly went by the manager. Gagging, she lost the contents of her stomach. She felt better. Wendla noticed it was freezing. She hugged her arms around herself and hurried back to bed. The sun had not yet rose. Melchior stirred. "Sssh, it's only me. Go back to sleep," she soothed. Wendla lay down beside him and pulled the covers over the both of them. Now just their brunette heads were visible under Fanny's woolen blanket.
Herman grabbed the feed. He hurried to get inside the dark shelter. Herman got the feed for the horses and chickens and carefully gathered water from the trough, careful not to let the water freeze in the cold temperature. No sooner had he deposited the feed that he saw something red out of the corner of his eye. He went to investigate and found two curly, brunette heads sleeping soundly.
Herman couldn't even think. He just shouted out his son's name. And then a young Wendla Bergman's head surfaced, fear flit across her face.
