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Book 2: Be Not Afraid

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Chapter Six: The Angel of the Lord

 

Dana smiled at Cloudy’s astonished expression as the little puppy gazed upward at the enormous mansion. “Do you like it?” she asked.

“Oh, yes!” Cloudy breathed. “I love it!”

Dana chuckled. “I knew you would. Well, let’s get you guys inside and to your rooms.”

 

* * * * *

 

After everyone had been assigned to their rooms and they had all eaten dinner, Dana led them all to the living room. She offered the children hot chocolate and the adults tea, but Meta Knight sharply turned down the offer. Dana raised an eyebrow, wondering what his problem was, but didn’t ask. She knew it was rude to barge into other peoples’ business.

After a few minute of sitting around sipping their beverages and chatting, Dana cleared her throat. The room became oddly quiet as everyone looked at her.

“So. . .you guys said you were in a plane crash,” Dana said softly.

Springtime winced slightly at mention of the crash and Meta Knight looked away.

“Yep, we were in a plane crash,” Sniper said cheerfully.

Eloise let out a loud groan. “Sniper, why can’t you learn to be quiet for once in your lifetime?”

Springtime gave the two a shushing signal.

“Yes, we were in a terrible plane wreck,” Showerstorm confirmed, and proceeded to tell the whole story. As he related the events of the crash, Dana’s eyes got bigger and bigger and Frank looked shocked. Elena’s expression was somber and Summer’s face was a mask of terror.

When Showerstorm had finished the scary story, everyone was silent for a long time. Then Summer spoke, “That is. . .that is wild,” she said.

“You’re telling me,” Eliot added.

“That must have been scary,” Karrie whispered, her greenish-brown eyes wide.

“And totally, superfendously sad,” Warren piped up.

“It was,” Springtime said miserably, “especially with the big death loss of all those people.”

Meta Knight put a hand over his visor, trying to hide the tears brimming in his eyes. Death was a touchy subject for him, especially when it came to his friends in the GSA. He didn’t understand why so many died in the world today. It wasn’t right.

“Meta Knight?” came Cloudy’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Meta Knight winced. “No,” he said. He quickly stood up. “I’ve got to go.” He walked quickly toward the front door, opened it, and went out of the front porch, slamming the door shut behind him. Cloudy sighed to herself, wishing she could help him feel better.

Springtime looked mournful. “I wish to goodness this whole day could have gone differently,” she admitted. “But if this be the Lord’s will. . .’

“. . .let it be done,” Elena finished, her blue eyes trustful. Springtime nodded in agreement.

After a few more minutes of quiet chatting, Springtime glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Goodness! Almost eight-thirty,” she said. “Time for you kids to get to bed.”

There were groans from the children. “Do we have to?” Miriam asked.

“I never got to bed this early!” Eloise said, “I always got to bed at ten o’clock!”

“Me too!” Nika chimed in.

Dana shook her head lightly, her blue eyes beginning to twinkle. “Oh, but you have to get up early tomorrow to get to Christ Church so you can prepare the stage, set up the microphones, memorize your lines, make costumes. . .”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Miriam cried, waving her hands wildly. “Prepare the stage for what? Set up the microphones for what? Memorize lines for what? Make costumes for what?”

The other children looked blank, but Cloudy grinned. “I think I know.”

“What, dear?” Springtime asked.

Cloudy shook her head. “I’ll let Miss Dana reveal the secret before I spill it. Go on, Miss Dana.”

Dana chuckled. “All right. The secret is. . .I signed all you kids up to be in our Nativity play this Christmas Eve!”

“Aha! I knew it!” Cloudy cried. “I knew that’s what we were going to be doing!”

Summer beamed at her niece. “Good for you, honey!”

The children gasped and all started talking at once. “Wow!” Sniper squealed. “I get to be a star!”

“Awesome!” Eloise said.

“Radical!” Nika shouted.

“Who gets to play which roles, though?” Cloudy asked.

Dana grinned mischievously. “You’ll find out soon enough, Cloudy.”

Cloudy nodded, smiling back.

“Okay, off to bed now!” Springtime called, shooing the kids upstairs. “Set your alarms to seven-thirty.”

The children clambered up to their rooms, chattering happily about the play and how much fun it was going to be. But Cloudy didn’t go upstairs. She just remained at the foot of the stairs, looking at the front door.

“Cloudy, dear. Go to bed.” That was Springtime.

Cloudy slowly shook her head. “Can’t I go to bed after I see Meta Knight, Mommy?”

Springtime sighed a little. “Dearie, don’t you think Meta Knight needs some alone time?”

“No.” Cloudy’s voice was stern and sharp. Springtime drew her body back slightly, surprised at her daughter’s tone. “He’s been alone for way too long already, Mommy. He’s frightened, traumatized, and he’s been in this valley for a long time, and the longer we leave him be, the worse he’ll get.”

Springtime pondered her child’s words and slowly nodded. Cloudy was right. Meta Knight needed them. “Very well. You can go to him, but don’t stay out too long.”

“Thank you.” Cloudy gave her mother a quick hug and skipped out to the porch. Glancing up at the sky, she was amazed by how many stars she saw. Blue stars, red stars, white stars, distant planets, faraway spiraling galaxies. . .and on and on. Truly the Lord is the Master Designer, she thought.

Then she heard something. It sounded like crying, soft crying. Cloudy turned her head to the right to look at the corner of the porch and saw Meta Knight leaning against the wall, his face hidden in the folds of his cape, his body trembling.

“Meta Knight?” Cloudy’s voice was soft and tentative, but sounded like a young woman’s instead of a child’s. Meta Knight gasped, raised his head out of his cape, and saw Cloudy standing a few inches away from him, her eyes solemn.

“Cloudy, what are you doing out here?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“I came to see if you were okay,” Cloudy replied. Then she paused, almost as if wanting to say something but not quite knowing how to say it. “Meta Knight,” she said finally, her voice quiet in the dark, cold night, “why were you crying?”

Meta Knight sniffled. “Cloudy, it is not easy for you to understand my plight.”

“Maybe not, but try me.” Cloudy stood up straight, her fur shining golden in the yellow light of the lamppost across the street.

Meta Knight took a deep breath. “All right. Do you remember how I mentioned to you that I was in the GSA?”

Cloudy bobbed her head.

“I have seen the deaths of many of my friends who were in the army,” Meta Knight said. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he kept talking. “And the deaths of those in the plane crash today reminded me of the many funerals I have attended. It just sickened me to see my once-living friends just. . .lying dead in the dirt. I-I couldn’t stand it. I can’t stand it even now.” He buried his face in his hand and began sobbing bitterly.

Cloudy whimpered a little. “I thought that’s what it was.” She dropped her head. “I’m sorry, Meta Knight,” she said simply but sincerely. “I guess I didn’t truly understand how badly you felt until now. And I am very, very sorry about your friends.”

Meta Knight was crying too hard to reply, but he reached out and took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. Cloudy didn’t resist. She snuggled up to him fondly and placed a paw on his arm, whining softly under her breath. The stars shone brightly and the lamppost flickered once as if saying “Good night.”

Meta Knight’s sobs subsided after a few minutes. Soon the sounds that could be heard were the occasional crack of an icicle from far off and Meta Knight’s and Cloudy’s calm breathing.

“You know,” Meta Knight said, breaking the silence, “I don’t care what anyone else says, Cloudy. There’s something about you that sets you apart from the family. From your friends. From the rest of the world even, perhaps.”

“What do you mean?” Cloudy asked, glancing up at him and shooting him a puzzled look.

Meta Knight shrugged. “I’m not certain yet. But I’ll find the answer. I will.” He gently set her down on the porch floor.

Cloudy chuckled. “When you say it like that, Meta Knight, I know you will.” She set her head on her front paws and yawned.

“You are tired,” Meta Knight said softly.

“You are traumatized,” was Cloudy’s surprising response. Meta Knight started and stared at her. “You have suffered much in your lifetime—pain, trauma, and abuse.” The little Malamute raised her head and glanced at him, her beautiful eyes gleaming in the starlight. “But I have good news for you. You have a Friend whom you can run to if ever you need Him. That’s a promise.”

Meta Knight smiled, then leaned back against the wall, tears running down his cheeks. “Thank you, Cloudy. Thank you for your optimism.” And he gave her another hug.

Cloudy smiled gently and licked his hand, then looked to the sky. The stars, flickering brightly like fireflies on a lazy summer day, seemed to be smiling down upon them.

 

* * * * *

 

RINNNNNG!!!!!!

The shrill sound buzzed in Cloudy’s ears and rang in her head. Cloudy groaned, wondering what could be making that awful noise. She looked over at her nightstand and sighed. Of course. Her alarm clock. She reached over and hit the snooze button, then climbed out of bed.

Cloudy yawned and surveyed her temporary room. Two windows were in the room, one to the right of her bed and one to the left, and were covered with blue cotton curtains. The walls and floors were fashioned of mahogany wood. A nightstand topped with an elegant crystal lamp sat at the right side of the bed and a table with books and a cactus plant sat on the other side. A pink beanbag chair lay in one corner and a bookshelf in another. A few pictures of serene landscapes were tacked on the walls. It was a beautiful room.

Cloudy made her bed neatly, cleaned herself up well, brushed her teeth, and skipped out of the room. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where Dana was preparing breakfast. The woman looked up from slicing peaches and smiling at Cloudy. “Good morning, dear. Sleep well?”

“Yes, ma’am. You?”

“Yes, thank you.” Dana chuckled a little. “But my baby wouldn’t be still. He’s a lively bean.”

‘”He?’’ Cloudy repeated. “It’s a boy?”

Dana shrugged and looked at her reflection in the metal blade of the knife. “Well, I don’t know for certain. I want it to be a boy, I know, but. . .well, I-I’m not totally sure what the gender is.”

Just then, Meta Knight came into the kitchen. Dana smiled kindly at him. “Good morning, Meta Knight. Did you sleep well?”

“Sí, dormí bien. Gracias,” Meta Knight replied.

“Huh?” Cloudy asked, unable to follow his gibberish language.

“It means, “Yes, I slept well. Thank you,’” Meta Knight explained. “It’s Spanish, or should I say español?”

Cloudy giggled. “You’re funny, Meta Knight.”

“Gracias. Or is that a compliment?” Meta Knight teased. The puppy grinned in answer.

“You can speak Spanish?” Dana asked.

“Yes, quite fluently,” Meta Knight said.

Dana smoothed her skirt. “Suppose you could tell me what the Spanish word for God is.”

“It is Dios,” Meta Knight said, sounding uncomfortable and a bit puzzled.

Dana smiled. “Hay un solo Dios, y Dios es el Gobernante de toda la creación.”

Cloudy looked blank, so Dana translated it for her. Upon hearing the translation, Cloudy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so true, Miss Dana!”

Meta Knight did not answer. He just looked at the floor.

“Is there something wrong?” Dana asked him.

Meta Knight shook his head. “No, I am okay. Muy bien.”

Dana just frowned, not looking at all like she believed Meta Knight. She turned back to the peaches and continued cutting them up, one after another. “Cloudy, would you please get the other children up and have them come down?” she requested. “Meta Knight, you can get the adults up.”

“Very well.”

“Okay,” Cloudy agreed.

The first room Cloudy went to was her brothers’, for they all shared a room. Cloudy pushed open the door and walked up to the bed. “Sniper? Sharkell? Yodi, Pancake, Waffle? Wake up, guys.”

Nothing. Only loud snoring.

“Hey, wake up!” Cloudy yelled in their faces.

All five brothers sat bolt upright in bed, their brown eyes wide and confused, Sniper’s drowsy expression settled into a frown as he glared at her. “Oh, it’s you,” he said rudely. “What do you want?”

“Miss Dana told me to wake you guys up,” Cloudy said. “It’s time for breakfast, I believe, so some down.”

All of the boys climbed out of bed except for Sniper. Sniper was still reluctant to get up. “Wake me up again in an hour,” he replied, lying down again and pulling the covers over his head.

Cloudy was beginning to get bothered by her older brother’s behavior. Gripping the edge of the blanket with her teeth, she yanked it down from Sniper’s head. “Listen here, Sniper,” she said hotly, “Miss Dana said to get you guys up and I intend on doing so, so get up right now!”

Sniper grumbled a bit, then climbed out of bed. “Fine,” he mumbled.

The rest of the children Cloudy had no trouble waking. By that times, Meta Knight had all the adults awake and downstairs. Everyone gathered in the cheerful dining room and sat around the table with its green and red tablecloth, eating cornbread, yogurt topped with peaches, and drinking glasses of fresh milk.

After breakfast was over and the dishes had been carried to the sink and washed, Dana said, “Okay, kids. My husband and I are going to take you to Christ Church to get started on the work for the play. The adults are welcome to tag along, if they like.”

“When are we going to get roles?” Waffle asked.

“Not until lunchtime,” Sniper teased.

“Not breakfast rolls, you dummy,” Waffle snapped. “Parts in the play!”

“I know that, you twit,” Sniper retorted. “I was kidding.”

“Shut up, you two,” Eloise growled.

Meta Knight stifled a laugh.

“Yes, Waffle, the roles will be announced at noon today,” Dana said. “So make sure you’re there if you want to get a part.”

Cloudy was excited. She couldn’t wait for the day to begin!

“If you do not mind, Dana,” came Meta Knight’s voice from the back of the room, “may I steal Cloudy away for an hour or so? I would like to do something with her.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Springtime asked.

Meta Knight gave Springtime a serious look. “I am going to teach her how to swordfight.”

Springtime’s mouth dropped open. “What?! You’re nuts. She’s not old enough to handle a sword! Not at her age.”

“Better to learn now than later,” Meta Knight said, with a tone that indicated he was referring to more than just swordfighting. “What if she has to go into combat and has no way or no weapons to defend herself?”

Springtime was about to protest again, but a sharp look from her husband stopped her. “Certainly you can teach Cloudy how to swordfight,” Showerstorm graciously allowed.

“I thank you.” Meta Knight then turned toward Cloudy. “Come. We must go.”

Cloudy frowned slightly, her face a mask of both fright and amazement as she followed him out of the house. “I’m really going to learn how to fight with a sword?” she asked.

“Yes.” Meta Knight shut the front door behind him and glanced at her. “Swordfighting is a very heard skill to master, but I am confident you can do it.”

“Why would you say that?” Cloudy said. “I’m just a little girl.”

Meta Knight chuckled. “No, Cloudy. I mean, yes, you are a little girl, but you’re more than that. You’re a strong Star Warrior with a heart of gold. You’ve got courage, spirit, strength of heart.”

Cloudy’s expression remained unmoved. “Okay, if you say so.”

Meta Knight looked down at her hard, trying to deduce her thoughts. Her face gave him no clue what was going on in that little brain of hers. Did she not like being complimented? Did she not believe what he had told her?

Or is there something else that I don’t know about her? he wondered.

He nodded to himself. Yes, that must be it. That must be.

He looked up to sky, which was overcast with thick, gray clouds.

It must be. . .

 

* * * * *

 

“Are we on the right street?” Cloudy asked, turning to look behind her at the buildings that lined both sides of the icy street. Merry shoppers marched along and caroling, shouting children played about and skated on the canal.

“I do not know,” Meta Knight answered. He looked to the right and then to the left. “I do not see the ironsmith’s, so we are probably not in the right location.”

Cloudy sighed. “What time is it?”

“Eight-forty.”

Cloudy glanced idly about as they strolled along. As she walked by a young girl and her mother, the little girl waved to the puppy. Cloudy smiled and waved back.

“Merry Christmas,” the mother said to Cloudy.

“Merry Christmas,” Cloudy answered. “And God bless you.”

“You, too,” the woman said. Then she and her daughter walked off down the street.

Meta Knight was silent a long time after hearing Cloudy’s and the woman’s conversation.

“What are you thinking about, Meta Knight?” Cloudy asked.

“I do not think I understand what you meant when you said, ‘God bless you,’” Meta Knight replied.

Cloudy smiled. “’God bless you’ is another way of saying, ‘May God make you prosper.’ In other words, when people say that, they’re basically wishing you good abundance.”

Meta Knight halted and wrapped himself in his cape. “Hmmm,” was all he said.

Cloudy yawned and shook off some stray snow that had been kicked up on top of her head somehow. As she did so, a man with gray eyes and jet-black hair paraded by the two, his expression as hard as stone. Cloudy blinked, wondering she had been seeing correctly. Could that be the same mysterious guy who had talked with her and likely crashed the plane?

Cloudy knew this might be her only chance to find out. She instantly spun around and sprinted after the man, shouting, “Hey, wait a minute!”

The man stopped and looked down at Cloudy, a peeved expression on his face. “Yes?” he said.

Cloudy scowled and drew herself up to her full height. “You’re the guy that talked with me at the airport, aren’t you?”

The man just looked blank. “What?”

Cloudy frowned. Why was he playing dumb? “The airport,” she repeated. “The Leupochena airport. You spoke with me in the lounge.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said. “I never saw you before in my life. And I haven’t been anywhere near an airport since this May.”

Cloudy was astonished. He sounded and looked so sincere that Cloudy found herself believing him. “But I was so sure it was you,” she explained.

The man shook his head vigorously. “Not me, miss,” he said. “Perhaps you’re thinking of my twin brother, Nathaniel Osen. I’m Jacob Osen.”

“Nathaniel Osen!” Cloudy exclaimed in dismay.

Jacob shot her a searching look. “You know him?”

“A little too well,” Cloudy muttered. Then she smiled politely and extended her paw to him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself.” She giggled. “I’m Cloudburst—Cloudy for short.”

“Nice to meet you, Cloudy,” Jacob said.

Cloudy was bent on learning more about Nathaniel. “So, um, Jacob,” she said nonchalantly, “what’s your brother like? I met him only once, so I don’t know him too well.”

Jacob shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to him in years. He was always rather loud and bossy, wanting his own way and getting angry at anyone who tried to intervene with his schemes. He’s been in and out of trouble with the law since before reaching adolescence.”

Cloudy had no idea what “reaching adolescence” meant, but she decided not to ask about it. “Then he must have been the one who crashed the plane!” she exclaimed.

Jacob looked startled. “Crashed the plane? What are you talking about?”

Cloudy told him about the wild adventure they had had yesterday. When she finished, Jacob looked horrified. “No way!” he breathed. “Are you telling me my own brother crashed the plane in an attempt to murder everybody?!”

“He did, but thank the Lord he didn’t succeed,” Cloudy said. “But my friend, Meta Knight, was deeply affected by the many deaths we witnessed.”

Jacob looked puzzled. “Who’s Meta Knight?”

Cloudy turned her head and pointed to Meta Knight standing in the street behind her and Jacob, watching them. “That’s Meta Knight. He, um, went through a lot in his life.”

“Oh,” Jacob said. He shifted his weight slightly. “Well, tell him I said I’m sorry.”

“I will,” Cloudy said. The she frowned and scratched her ear. “But I wanted to ask you—I’m still puzzled by the vision I had on the plane. I’ve never had such a thing happen to me before. What does it mean?”

“Well,” Jacob supplied, “I think you might have a gift—a very small gift—for glimpsing the future. Not that you can see a whole bunch of stuff, but that every once in a while you will have these premonitions.” He smiled. “Perhaps the Good Lord has bestowed this gift on you.”

“Amazing,” Cloudy murmured. Then she straightened up and smiled at Jacob. “Are you a Christian?” she asked.

Jacob nodded. “And let me guess—you are too.”

Cloudy grinned and bobbed her head, sending her bow tilting off-kilter. “Yes, yes, and I say it proudly! I’m proud to be a Christian!”

Jacob chuckled at her enthusiasm and stroked her ears, setting her bow back in place as she did so. “You’re sweet. I like you, Cloudy. We should be friends.”

“Sure we can be friends,” Cloudy said. Then she looked back to Meta Knight. “But I need to get over to the ironsmith’s and then over to Christ Church for the announcing of our roles in the Nativity play.”

“You mean the one they’re doing on Christmas Eve?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah. If I can get to the church on time, I’ll land a part,” Cloudy said.

“Well, good luck with your auditions,” Jacob said. “And as for the ironsmith’s, keep going straight until you come to a four-way intersection, and you go right. The first building you come to is the ironsmith’s.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Cloudy said. “See you around.”

“See you, Cloudy,” Jacob called as he walked off.

Cloudy walked back to Meta Knight and gave him Jacob’s directions to the ironsmith’s. They began walking again, she related what she had learned from Jacob about Nathaniel.

Meta Knight looked backed at Jacob’s retreating figure. “So Nathaniel and Jacob are brothers? Very interesting.”

“I’ll say!” Cloudy’s voice suddenly became subdued as she added, “Um, Meta Knight. . .Jacob also wanted me to tell you that he was sorry about everything you went through.”

Meta Knight became uncomfortably quiet. “Oh,” was all he said. Then he gestured for Cloudy to follow him. Cloudy obliged, till worried about her friend.

They had been walking for less than three minutes when Cloudy heard something not too far away, on the street opposite from them. It sounded a guitar being strummed, drums pounding wildly, and the sound of gentle. . .singing?

Cloudy stepped onto a low stone street, and before her eyes, saw an amazing sight. A small platform had been set up at the end of the street corner and two boys and a young girl were onstage. The girl was singing and the boys were playing the drums and guitar. A small crowd had gathered and was cheering and clapping.


“Veni, veni, Emmanuel

Captivum solve Israel

Qui gemit in exsilio

Privatus Dei Filio

Gaude! Gaude! Emmanuel

Nascetur pro te Israel!”

Cloudy was amazed. She recognized the song as “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” but the lyrics were being sung in a different language. Meta Knight was listening intently as the young girl sang. “I believe that is Latin,” he murmured.

“Can you speak Latin?” Cloudy asked.

“Only some, but the main languages I love to speak are Spanish and English.” he smiled at her. “¿Puedes entender lo que estoy diciendo?”

Cloudy’s blank look made him laugh. “I can see you don’t. But if you like, I will teach you some Spanish later.”

“I’d love to learn,” Cloudy told him.

Then the young girl began to sing in English.

“O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.”

Cloudy would have stayed to listen to more, but Meta Knight gently touched her shoulder. “Come, Cloudy. Let’s go. We can come back here later.”

Cloudy reluctantly went with Meta Knight to the ironsmith’s, all the while hearing the young girl sing:

“O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o’er the grave
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.”

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy followed Meta Knight to a large, wide field. The thin, yellowish-white grasses of the early summer had been turned to a pale blue. Meta Knight led her onto a small dale and handed her her new sword he had purchased. It was made of rich iron and skillfully fashioned.

“Hold it in your mouth,” he told her. “You don’t have hands like I do, so you must hold it in your mouth.”

Cloudy made a face as the iron touched her tongue. “This tastes like metal feet,” she complained. “It’s gross.”

“You’re fighting with it, not eating it,” Meta Knight said drily. The he burst into a fit of laughter. “Child, you are truly unique and very funny. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “But let’s be serious.” He drew his own sword, adding as he did so, “You will learn some basic slashes. You have the right and left slashes, the sideways slash, the forward slash, and the upward and downward slashes. Never do a backward slash, as you can hit yourself in the face and severely injure yourself.”

Meta Knight demonstrated each slash and Cloudy mimicked him. “Very good,” Meta Knight said. “You have a lot of talent and skill.” Then without warning, he struck out at her, but Cloudy used a forward slash and deflected the blow.

“Good job,” Meta Knight praised her. “That was a test and you passed. The most important rule of a sword is that you always have to be ready to use it, no matter where you are. But use it wisely and carefully, not rashly.”

“I get that,” Cloudy said, then suddenly struck out at Meta Knight, staring him and knocking him backward. Stunned, he slowly sat up.

“Sorry,” Cloudy said contritely. “Did I hurt you?”

Meta Knight stared at her for the longest time, admiration lighting up his eyes. The he got to his feet. “No, you didn’t hurt me—much.” He sighed heavily. “But I’m surprised at myself. I didn’t react quickly enough to your thrust and you did to mine. I wonder what that means?”

“It means that some people have faster reflexes than others,” Cloudy joked. She could tell Meta Knight was slightly upset with himself and wanted to lighten the mood. “You’re a fine teacher, Meta Knight. Thanks for teaching me the slashes.”

“You’re welcome, but we’re not done yet,” Meta Knight said. He grinned. “You’re going to learn how to thrust in order to deflect more heavier blows. Like this.” He thrust at her and she lifted her blade and struck it against his.

“Good. Like that,” Meta Knight said. He smiled slightly. “You are a very good swordsman—or should I say swordswoman?”

Cloudy grinned in return and shrugged her shoulders. “Um, thanks.”

Meta Knight spent the next hour teaching her the basics of how to use a sword, such as cutting, parrying, blocking, redirecting, and tracking. He showed her the figure-eight walk and the right posture and stance to use when swordfighting. Cloudy enjoyed the lesson tremendously, but she loved the part when Meta Knight decided to teach her a very special maneuver, one that was amazing but difficult to master.

“Cloudy, I am now going to teach you a very tricky maneuver of swordfighting,” Meta Knight announced. “It is called the Sword Beam.”

“Sword Beam?” Cloudy repeated.

“Yes. This is how it works,’ Meta Knight said. He suddenly leaped up high into the air and drew his sword over his head. As he did, the sword began to glow a bright golden. Then Meta Knight made a downward thrust with his sword, sending out a semicircular beam that sliced right through the ground, breaking up the earth. Cloudy was forced to leap aside to avoid being hit by the beam.

After he issued the beam, Meta Knight landed on the ground again and waited until the beam had vanished. The he looked to Cloudy, who was staring at him with wide, amazed eyes. “Did you like that?” he asked.

“It was awesome and scary at the same time,” Cloudy replied. “How’d you do that?”

“Easy to say and hard to do,” Meta Knight replied. “You have to focus your spirit on your attack. When this happens, energy leaves your body and enters your sword. Thus you create the Sword Beam.”

“That’s cool,” Cloudy said, “Can I try?”

Cloudy attempted to ficus her spirit, but she couldn’t. She really had no idea how. “Meta Knight, how does this work?” she asked. “I can’t do this.”

“Focus your spirit, child.”

“But how do you do that?” Cloudy wanted to know.

Meta Knight frowned and ran his finger along the hilt of his rapier. “Focus on your attack. Imagine yourself about to so something big and terrible and you can create the Sword Beam.”

Cloudy stared at her sword, the sunlight reflecting off the bright sheen of iron. As she did so, she began to imagine herself as a great queen about to ravage and plunder a giant city of evil. She was the queen of fairness, the queen of justice, the queen of righteousness! She could do anything with the power of God inside her!

Almost against her will, Cloudy leaped up high into the air and sliced her sword in a downward motion. Immediately, a giant golden beam shot out from the blade and zoomed toward the ground, cutting right through it. Meta Knight’s eyes widened and he involuntarily jumped out of the way of the beam just before it hit the ground and sliced trough the spot where he had been standing.

Cloudy landed on the ground again, looking dazed. She stared blankly at the destroyed and scuffed earth. “What just happened?” she asked.

Meta Knight smiled. “You managed to create the Sword Beam,” he said. “Good job!”

“I did?” Cloudy acted genuinely surprised.

Meta Knight nodded affirmation. “You did indeed.” He gazed proudly at her. “I think that is enough of a lesson for today, But you did well.”

“Thanks.” Cloudy sheathed her sword and jumped into her friend’s arms. Meta Knight held her tightly against himself for some time, feeling more lonesome than ever despite the fact that he had plenty of friends now.

“Are you okay?” Cloudy asked, noting how quiet he was.

Meta Knight nodded. “Yes, I am okay. Come on. We can stop by the concert again, and then we need to get you to Christ Church. The roles for your little play will be held in less than three hours.”

Cloudy’s expression tightened ever so slightly. “Why’d you say that?”

“Say what?” Meta Knight asked, a little surprised and confused by her reaction.

“You called our play ‘little,’” Cloudy said. “But it’s not just a cute little play that we do as part of a natural tradition. We do this play to show others that the Lord Jesus is real and that He’s here among us right now ad will be forevermore. He wants to save us all. That’s why He came to be crucified.”

Meta Knight shook his head. “See, that’s what I never understood about God,” he said, a catch in his voice. “Why did He have to die from crucifixion? Wouldn’t it have been better for Him to be beaten or stoned to death? Crucifixion is awful.”

“The Bible plainly told us He would come to die from being crucified,” Cloudy stated. “Many prophets in the Bible Prophesied this. In the book of Exodus, the story of the bronze serpent—the serpent hung on the pole represented Christ hanging on a cross for us.” Cloudy nudged Meta Knight’s hand. “He had to die on the cross. If He didn’t, He would be disqualified from being the Messiah.” She smiled kindly at the knight, whose eyes were a light green hue. “He hung on a cross for you.”

“But why?” Meta Knight wondered. “I’m nobody.”

“We’re all nobodies, Meta Knight,” Cloudy said seriously. “We’re all sinners. Jesus didn’t deserve to die for us. If anything, we should have been the ones to hang on that cross. But our gracious and merciful God took out place.”

“But why?” Meta Knight asked again, his eyes filling with tears. “Why did He have to endure such a painful and horrifying death?”

Cloudy’s radiant eyes shone even brighter and a smile came over her face. “Because He loved us.”

Meta Knight shut his eyes, contemplating her answer. Could this be true? This so-called God that He didn’t believe in—could He really be real? Was all of this true?

“Come on,” Cloudy said. “We need to get back to the concert and then over to the church!”

Meta Knight absently nodded and sent her down, and she began to lope across the frozen grass. He steadily followed at a fair pace, but his mind kept turning over the four simple words Cloudy had spoken.

Because He loved us. . .

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy approached the familiar street corner and was pleased to see the concert was still going on. What did not please her was the fact that the young girl was only going to sing one more song. Cloudy wished she could have seen the concert instead of swordfighting, but she decided to make the best of it and listen to the final song.

“This is not a Christmas song,” the young girl said seriously, “but it does teach about our trust in God and how He will defend us from evil if we call upon Him. It’s based on Psalm 91 and is called ‘Crushing Snakes,’ by David Crowder.” She gestured to one of the boys onstage and called, “Frank, your turn to sing.”

Frank stood up and took the microphone as the girl moved to the piano and began to play it while the other boy played the guitar.

“We’re not afraid
Terrors of night
Arrows that fly by day
Ten thousand may fall but we
We will remain.”

Cloudy was astonished. It really did sound like a music version of Psalm 91!

“We’re not afraid
A promise of God
Can never be torn away
Walking on hands of angels
Crushing snakes
Safe under the shadow of His wings
Our fortress and our strength
Our fortress!”

Then the girl began to sing with him.

“We’re taking back our freedom
Our battle has been won
We have been liberated
Back from the dead, we’ve come!

We’re taking back our freedom
Our battle has been won
We have been liberated
Back from the dead, we’ve come!”

Cloudy grinned at Meta Knight, who had walked up beside her. “Do you recognize this song?” she whispered.

Meta Knight shook his head. “No, but I feel like I should.”

“We’re not afraid
A promise of God
Can never be torn away
Walking on hands of angels
Crushing snakes
Safe under the shadow of His wings
Our fortress and our strength
Our fortress!

We’re taking back our freedom
Our battle has been won
We have been liberated
Back from the dead, we’ve come!”

There was a short pause, with only the soft sound of the piano and the gentle tapping of the drums. Then the girl began to sing in a tune soft but bold.

“Do you see Him
King of Heaven
Champion of all creation
Eyes of fire
Voice of thunder
Tearing through the sky in wonder
Dressed in light we
See Him coming
On a horse that’s white like lightning
Do you see Him?”

The boys began to sing with her, their hard, coarse voices in sharp contrast with her lovely soprano.

“Do you see Him
King of Heaven
Champion of all creation
Eyes of fire
Voice of thunder
Tearing through the sky in wonder
Dressed in light we
See Him coming
On a horse that’s white like lightning
Do you see Him?
Do you see Him?

Do you see Him
King of Heaven
Champion of all creation
Eyes of fire
Voice of thunder
Tearing through the sky in wonder
Dressed in light we (Piercing through the sky)
See Him coming (Breaking through the darkness)
On a horse that’s white like lightning
Do you see Him
Do you see Him?

We’re taking back our freedom
Our battle has been won
We have been liberated
Back from the dead, we’ve come!

We’re taking back our freedom
Our battle has been won
We have been liberated
Back from the dead, we’ve come!

Back from the dead, we’ve come!”

The crowd finished out the song together, their voices blending as one:

“Back from the dead, we’ve come!”

The crowd cheered and clapped and stamped their feet in approval, and the girl was smiling and thanking the crowd. Many crowded around the stage to drop money or toys into a small donation box the girl was holding. Then, one by one, the crowd began to trickle away from the corner. Meta Knight watched each of them go, wondering how their lives were, wondering what they were keeping inside.

“Hi.”

Startled, Meta Knight whirled to see the same young girl standing behind him. “Whoa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the girl apologized. “My name’s Juliana. Have we met?”

Meta Knight shook his head. “No, we have not. My name is. . .well, just call me Meta Knight.”

“Nice to meet you, Meta Knight,” Juliana said.

“Juliana!” came a woman’s shout. Standing next to the boys onstage was a young woman who looked an awful lot the young girl. “Come, honey. We don’t want to be late for your aunt’s Christmas party tonight. Help your brothers pack up this stuff and get going. We have a very long drive ahead of us.”

“Yes, Mom.” Juliana smiled at Meta Knight as she walked off. “God sees your pain, Meta Knight. But have faith, for He’ll make everything right.”

Meta Knight stared after her until she walked over to her mom, then quickly hurried away from the street corner. He was getting a little frightened, for he knew that girl understood what he was hiding inside. His outward look of inward pain had given it away.

“Meta Knight, come on! What are you doing!” Cloudy shouted. She was already far ahead of him of the street adjacent to the concert.

“Sorry. I am coming.” He hurried after her, unable to shake the vision of the girl’s words to him from his mind.

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy threw open the sanctuary doors of Christ Church and raced past the many pews to the stage up front. Her siblings, friends, and cousins, as well as two girls whom Cloudy didn’t recognize were working on the fake stable that would house the Baby Jesus after He was born. The adults were chatting gaily and watching the children’s progress.

“Hey, everyone!” Cloudy yelled loudly enough to wake the dead. “I’m here!”

“Shh, Cloudy,” Meta Knight whispered as he ran up beside her. “Not so loud.”

“Whoops, my bad,” Cloudy said, giving Meta Knight an apologetic glance and then running over to her parents. “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy. How’s the construction coming?”

“Pretty good,” said Springtime.

“But it would have gone a lot faster if you had been here working and not running around and goofing off with that blueberry dude,” Sniper piped up.

Meta Knight sharply sucked in his breath and turned away from Sniper.

Cloudy rolled her eyes.

Springtime sighed heavily. “Sniper, don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to your sister.”

“Yeah, sure. Fine,” Sniper said. He returned to his work.

Springtime cleared her throat. “Anyway, dear. Yes, the construction is going great, but pretty slow. However, we’ve got lots of time to complete it before Christmas Eve.”

Just then, Dana popped out from behind the curtain, holding a clipboard. Her eyes surveyed the children until they came to rest on Cloudy. “Hello, Cloudy,” she said. “Glad you made it. Now you can land a role in the Nativity play.”

“That’s good, Miss Dana,” Cloudy said.

Dana cleared her throat so loudly that everyone turned to look at her. “Now then, let’s get to the roles,” she said. She pointed to Star. “Star, I have chosen you to be Elizabeth.”

Star smiled. “Cool.”

“Arrow, you are Zechariah,” Dana continued.

“Awesome,” Arrow said.

“Miriam, you are Mary, and Zach you are Joseph.” Dana went on to name each child and say which role they would act in the play. Cloudy was called on last.

“Cloudy, you will be the special angel of the Lord,” Dana declared.

“What’s the special angel of the Lord?” Cloudy asked.

“This is the angel who will have a few speaking lines and then will sing a solo before the other angels sing,” Dana explained.

“Oh, very nice,” Cloudy said. She liked her role. “Angel of the Lord” had a very nice ring to it. She loved the fact that she had been singled out to be chosen to act the role of this particular angel.

“Okay, all,” Dana said. “Meet here every evening to rehearse your lines, and next week we’ll start working on your costumes. That is all. See you all later, You can go back home now. Thank you for all your hard work.”

The children began to chatter excitedly to themselves, but Cloudy walked over to Meta Knight and nuzzled his arm. “I got a part!” she said happily.

“You did. I’m very proud of you,” Meta Knight said. He gently caressed her head.

Cloudy glanced up at Meta Knight, her emerald eyes solemn. “Meta Knight,” she said, “will you come to see our play?”

Meta Knight smiled. “Of course I will,” he said. “You can bank on it.”

Cloudy grinned widely at her friend. She loved Meta Knight very much—much more than he would ever realize.

 

__  __  __

 

Note: “O Come O Come Emmanuel” lyrics are written by Aaron Shust, who is the performer and arranger of this version of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” The original lyrics were written by John Mason Neale in 1851, based on the medieval Latin hymn “Veni, veni, Emmanuel”. All credit goes to Aaron Shust for this song.

 

“Crushing Snakes” lyrics are written by David Crowder, who co-wrote this song with Ed Cash, Martin Cash, and Cole Dye. All credit goes to them for this song.

 

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Eight: Thank You

 

After the meal was over, the crowd sang a few hymns and chatted a while longer. Then it was time to go.

Cloudy and her friends offered to help clear the dishes and fold up the picnic tables to return them to Mrs. Turner’s restaurant. As they wiped the tables, Cloudy hummed snatches of the songs they had just sang.

Wylanda, overhearing, smiled contentedly. It was funny, she thought. If her mother had never made her go to this feast, she probably wouldn’t even be standing here right now. Truly the Lord works in mysterious ways, she thought.

After forty minutes or so, the picnic tables were all cleared away and the dishes had disappeared. Lily and the Palmer sisters cleaned the bits of food off the ground and stuck them into large trash bags, which they then hauled out to the side of the road.

Showerstorm smiled. “You guys are good helpers,” he commented.

“Thanks,” replied Lily, her brown eyes shining.

By the time the pasture was cleared, most of the people had already left. A few remained, such as Eloise and Nika’s family and Miriam’s mom, as well as the Stellarums. The knight was talking in a low voice to his mother, who nodded after everything he said. Cloudy looked at the paper she had made, remembering she had to give it to him.

She danced over to him and waited for the knight to stop speaking, then cleared her throat. “Magnus.”

“Hm?” The knight glanced down at her and smiled. “Oh, it’s you, Cloudy. What do you need?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to give you this.” She then added as an afterthought, “I made it.” Then she rushed off.

“What does it say, Magnus?” Scazzarda wondered.

The knight delicately unfolded the piece of paper and held it up to the light shining from the lamppost across the street. It read:

 

We met just today, Magnus Stellarum,

But I feel like I know you very well.

I wish I could understand you better,

But I can’t, so I just want to tell

You that you’re one of the kindest knights

That I’ve met, though we met so suddenly.

You know me, and I know you—

And that’s the way it ought to be.

-Cloudburst

 

The knight finished reading and his hand began to tremble, but with an effort he restrained his emotions. He folded the latter and lovingly held it. “It is just a poem,” he said quietly.

Scazzarda smiled kindly at him. “And from the looks of it, it’s a lovely poem.”

“Yes,” he admitted, looking over at Cloudy. Sensing somebody was staring at her, she turned to see the knight and grinned, her pearly white teeth reflecting in the lamppost’s light. “I’ll never forget her, Mother. She’s one of the kindest kids I have ever come across.”

“And she’s different, too,” Scazzarda murmured. The knight nodded, his eyes locked on Cloudy’s glistening black-and-white fur and her intelligent emerald-colored eyes.

“Let’s go home,” Scazzarda told her son.

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy watched the Stellarums walk off toward Whispy Woods and frowned a little. Why were they going in there? Perhaps they lived there, but what an odd place to live!

“Hi, Cloudy.”

Cloudy whirled and saw Wylanda standing there, a smile on her face. “Oh, hello, Wylanda,” Cloudy said. “How are you?”

“Just fine, actually.” Wylanda’s brown eyes looked like stars in the dim light. “I came to thank you for showing me the truth.”

Cloudy backed up a little and shook her head in protest. “Oh, no. Don’t you thank me. It’s God who deserves the thanks. I was just His vessel.”

“Ohh. Of course.” Wylanda giggled. “I thanked Him too. He’s just wonderful to me.”

Cloudy agreed. Then a thought came to her mind. “Did you ever tell your parents about the knife?” she asked solemnly.

Wylanda nodded soberly. “They were grieved, but also happy because you came along and showed me the way to truth. They were very grateful that I accepted Christ as my Savior.”

Cloudy looked up to the starlit sky. To her, it looked as though God had drawn a black velvet curtain dotted with white spots across the sky. There were no clouds and the air was chilly but refreshing. “And do you now see how blessed you are?”

“Indeed,” Wylanda nodded. “And I hope one day to trace my original parents and tell them I forgive them for what they did to me.”

Cloudy smiled. What a drastic change the Lord has worked in Wylanda!

“Hey, wanna go to the mall together this Saturday?” Wylanda asked. “We can do some shopping.”

“Sure! I’ll be there!” Cloudy said. “And if you want, you can come to our house Tuesday night and have a sleepover.”

“Cool!” Wylanda then looked up to see Mrs. Coven waving at her. “Oh, we gotta go home.” Then she looked at Cloudy. “Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where do you go to church?”

Cloudy frowned, confused. “Umm. . .I don’t go to church. This area of Spring Breeze has no church.”

“You don’t go to church!” Wylanda was silent a moment. “Well, we go to to a small Baptist church about thirty miles down from our house. We don’t live in your area, you know. We’re more in the north. But anyway, you’re invited to join us. We’ll pick you up this Sunday.”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” Cloudy said. “Now shoo!”

Wylanda waved to Cloudy as she climbed in the Coven’s automobile. “Take good care of my necklace!” she shouted out the window as the car roared away.

Cloudy stood alone on the dewy grass, the chill of night beginning to press down on her. She shivered and looked across the street just in time to see Miriam and her mother go into their house and slam the door. The Palmer sisters were climbing into their mom’s car. Once they were settled, Mr. Palmer puled out of the yard and drove down the road. Then silence.

Cloudy looked up to the sky once more and saw a tiny sliver of the crescent moon. The sheer beauty of its silvery light seemed to embrace every fiber of her being. And now she wondered where the Lord would take her next.

 

~   ~   ~

 

And that marks the end of this story. But don’t forget, dear readers, that the theme of this story is to always be grateful for what you have and not gripe, for what you own, the Lord has blessed you with. Take this moral and apply it to your own lives, and never forget to have a thankful heart no matter what.

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Seven: Count Your Blessings

 

Star yawned. “Isn’t Cloudy back from talking to that bratty girl?” she grumbled, glancing at the sky. “From the position of the sun, I’d say it’s almost five o’clock or so.”

“Aw, be patient,” Arrow said. “She’ll be here.”

Scazzarda nodded in agreement. “She’ll come when she’s ready.”

Then Star heard something. From her right came the sound of someone running, and she leaped up eagerly, expecting to see Cloudy returning. But to her consternation, it wasn’t Cloudy at all. It was Wylanda!

“Oh, no,” Sharkell muttered. “What is she doing here?”

Wylanda slowed and walked right up to the group. Star bristled and backed away from the girl, baring her fangs.

“Why are you here?” Arrow coldly asked.

To Star’s surprise, Wylanda didn’t mock or make fun of them as expected. Instead, she seemed very contrite and kind. “I know exactly why you’re acting afraid of me, and in no way do I blame you,” Wylanda said, pressing her palms together. “I just wanted to say that I regret all the mean things I’ve done to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Huh?!” Star stared, speechless, at her. This wasn’t the Wylanda they had always known!

“Whoa, talk about a drastic personality change,” Zach said to Star under his breath.

“Yeah. Since when is she so friendly and nice?” Star said to herself. She was getting suspicious, certain this was some sort of trick to win their trust.

Wylanda looked around at their stern, cold expressions and sighed. “Cloudy finally showed me the truth, and I accepted Christ,” she explained. “He’s changed me from the inside-out. I’ve made a commitment to Him, and I will never go back to my old lifestyle.”

Sniper and Sharkell looked at each other, their eyes wide. Scazzarda frowned. Wylanda seemed so sincere—but how could they trust she really had changed?

“Prove to us that you’re not the same person you were,” Nika challenged. “How do we know you’re really saved? Do we know it’s not a trick?”

“It’s not a trick,” came a familiar feminine voice from behind Wylanda. Cloudy stepped into view, the porcelain rose lightly bumping against her chest with every movement. The children seemed confused by her wearing the necklace, but made no comment.

The knight took a step back. “Cloudburst,” he breathed, but said no other words.

“Wylanda is changed,” Cloudy said firmly. “She is now a daughter of the King.”

“How wonderful!” Scazzarda said, taking Wylanda in her arms and hugging her. “I’m so happy for you, child.”

Wylanda embraced her in return. “Thank you.” Then she glanced up at Scazzarda’s bright blond hair into which was stuck the white rose. She reached up to touch one of the soft petals. “You’re wearing a rose!”

“Naturally. It’s Thanksgiving,” Scazzarda said. “And in Dreamland, the symbol of gratitude is a rose!”

“I know!” Wylanda said. “That’s kind of cool.” She scratched her head. “But I wonder why? Why a rose?”

Scazzarda put an arm across Wylanda’s shoulder. “The rose was chosen specifically because many of our Pilgrim ancestors associated the rose with Jesus.”

“What does Jesus have to do with Thanksgiving?” Star asked. “I mean, I get He brought our ancestors safely to Dreamland and all, but I don’t get. . .”

“Well, dear, let me explain,” Scazzarda said. “See, Jesus is more associated with the theme of Thanksgiving, which is gratitude. When we get saved, how should we respond to Christ for saving us?”

Star’s eyes shone as brightly as her name. “Thanksgiving!” she exclaimed. “Gratitude! Of course!”

“Exactly, my dear!” Scazzarda went on. “Anyway, these Pilgrims chose the rose because of the symbols the flower held.”

“What do you mean?” Yodi asked.

“You know how a rose can have thorns?” Scazzarda asked. Several of the children nodded. “Well, the Pilgrims associated that with the crown of thorns, or the suffering and agony Christ had to endure on the cross.”

Cloudy gasped and Star seemed intrigued.

“Most people think red is the main color of rose petals, so the Pilgrims chose that color to represent Jesus’ blood, or the cleansing of our sins.”

“Golly!” Arrow exclaimed. “I never knew any of this stuff before!”

Scazzarda gently hushed him and then continued, “And lastly, the green of the stem and leaves represents rebirth, or the renewal of our bodies and spirits in eternal life.” She looked away across the pasture and up, gesturing to the sky, and everyone looked up. What they saw made their hearts nearly skip a beat.

The sun was setting, fading behind the thick greenery of Whispy Woods. Blue, purple, and gold entwined in one marvelous spiral of color to create an unusual-looking but picturesque painting of God’s spectacular handiwork. White flamed the edges of the clouds stretching away beyond the peak of Mount Moonstem, and the edges of the usually-golden sun seemed tinged with red fire. The mountain peak was a dusky blueish-gray in the fading light.

The children were captured by the awe of it all. “Truly God’s the Master Designer of this wonderful world!” Star whispered.

“No one can ever paint such a glorious sunset as well as God can,” Cloudy said to Wylanda, who nodded her head.

“Thanks be to God,” Scazzarda murmured. “It’s by His mercy we are able to stand here before Him and admire His handiwork. It’s by His grace that we are not struck dead by His hand right now.”

“Amen,” Eloise said. Then she looked to Wylanda. “Oh, um, by the way, Wylanda, I wanted to apologize for those awful things I said to you. I didn’t mean it, really.”

“Apology accepted,” Wylanda said, then looked around at the group with a smile on her face. “So, does this mean we’re all friends now?”

“Well, of course!” Miriam said, dashing over to Wylanda. “We’re friends now!”

“Cool,” Wylanda said. “Well, what do you want to do first?”

“I think the feast will take place in forty-five minutes or so,” Eloise said, looking at her watch. “Let’s go to the house and help set up the picnic tables Mrs. Turner provided.”

Wylanda started to walk toward the house, but halted and looked back at the knight. His sun-colored eyes glared at her from beneath his mask, his body wrapped in his cape. Wylanda wanted to say how much she was sorry for insulting him, but felt too afraid to approach him. Instead, she smiled apologetically, hoping that would communicate the message. He seemed to understand what she was trying to tell him, for he kindly nodded. Feeling better, Wylanda ran off to join her friends.

Scazzarda chuckled as she watched the kids start a game of tag on their way to the house. “Magnus, what do you think of those children?”

The knight’s eyes landed on Cloudy, her green eyes sparkling in the last light of the sun, her kind smile seeming to illuminate the dark, her necklace swaying rhythmically from side to side as she darted left and right, trying to deviate the others from touching her. There was something about her that set her apart from the rest of the children, but he wasn’t sure what.

“They’re different,” was all he would say.

 

* * * * *

 

Showerstorm caught Cloudy and Star as they were trying to push two picnic tables in line with one another. “Psst,” he whispered, handing each of them a large bucket. “Go out and collect as much money as you can from the people here—that is, if they want to donate. Okay?”

“Why?” Star asked.

“Don’t ask questions. Just go.”

Star looked like she was about to argue, but Cloudy stopped her with a warning look. Star looked puzzled as the two sisters walked off together through the crowd. “Why are we doing this?” she whispered.

Cloudy gave her a surprised look. “Don’t you remember? It’s for Miriam’s mom,” she said. Then she added in a whisper, “But don’t tell them until Mommy says so.”

“Okay,” Star agreed, and the two sisters went to work collecting money.

 

* * * * *

 

Springtime smiled nervously as the people filed among the row of picnic tables and took their seats. All the tables were arranged vertically except for one in front of the house, which was arranged horizontally. That was the table at which Springtime, Showerstorm, the Covens, and the Stellarums would sit.

“It’s starting in a minute,” Miriam said to her mother. The two were standing together on the porch.

Meredith groaned and placed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t even know why you brought me out here. I don’t feel good.”

“Cloudy said her parents had a surprise for us, but wouldn’t say what it was,” Miriam said.

Cloudy rushed up the steps and stopped before mother and daughter. “Are you guys gonna join the feast?” she asked.

“Yes,” Miriam said gravely.

Meredith sighed. “Sure, I suppose so. But I’m not feeling very well.”

“That’s expected when you’re having a baby,” Cloudy said nonchalantly, her eyes roaming over the packed crowds.

Meredith started. “What did you say?”

“You’re pregnant, Mom!” Miriam cheered. “Miss Springtime said so!”

Meredith was stunned. Slowly the tears filled her eyes. “A-A baby?” she murmured.

Miriam nodded and did a pirouette.

“Okay, everyone, welcome to our Thanksgiving feast!” Springtime announced into a megaphone. “We’re pleased and proud that you would join us, and we will say grace in a few moments. But first,” she said, “we have a special surprise to present to a Mrs. Meredith Capperdale and her daughter, Miriam. Please come here.”

Meredith and Miriam looked at each other and Miriam shrugged. The two walked sedately down the steps and over to the front table.

Springtime cleared her throat and looked to her husband, who picked up the two buckets and pushed them toward Meredith. “This is to help pay off your loans,” he said in a low tone.

Meredith peered into one of the buckets and gave a sound gasp. “Good grief!” she cried out. “How much is in here?!”

“There’s just as much in the other one!” Miriam exclaimed.

Showerstorm winked at his wife and picked up a third bucket, bigger than the other two, and pushed it to Meredith. The woman’s eyes were wide. “We sent out a third recruit to gather money when Star and Cloudy got tired,” he said, casting his gaze on Nika. She smiled proudly.

“So this is for you, Meredith, and we hope you will be able to stay in this neighborhood,” Springtime concluded. She looked out toward the audience. “And I’d like to extend out warmest and sincerest thanks for all those who donated to help this family!”

There was a thunderous applause and cheers and whistles filled the air. Meredith was speechless and shocked while Miriam was amazed. The two looked to Cloudy, but she shook her head and pointed to her parents. “It was their idea,” she mouthed.

Meredith smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “I will pay these loans back as soon as we get home.”

At the word “home,” Miriam cheered and began dancing around. Everyone laughed and smiled at the little girl.

“And now to proceed with the feast,” Springtime said once everyone had quieted down and taken their seats. “But before we do, I want to give an overview of our history and how we came to celebrate this special holiday.
“Three hundred years ago, the Pilgrims left their home in Leudon and sailed on the Moonflower to escape religious persecution in their hometown from James I,” she began. “They sailed for sixty-five days before finally reaching the place which we call Dreamland. Many died that first winter, but when spring came, Indians such as Squinto, Missosoit, and Sumosot helped them and taught the Pilgrims many things. And that first fall in the New World, they had a huge feast. That feast day became known to the world as Thanksgiving.”

Then she held up a rose, apparently snipped off one of Cloudy’s rosebushes. “This rose became the symbol for gratitude, and we will have Scazzarda Stellarum explain why.”

As Scazzarda again explained the meaning of the rose, Cloudy looked around at the joyous crowd and smiled. She thought over the events of the past two weeks. Just a few days ago Miriam’s family was in debt, Wylanda was a jerk, and nothing seemed to be going right. But now Miriam could stay in Spring Breeze, Wylanda was saved, and everything had turned out wonderfully. Cloudy knew only the hand of the Lord Himself could have worked things out in such a mighty and marvelous way.

“And now,” Springtime said when Scazzarda had finished, “we will have a few stand up and say what they are thankful for.”

A young woman stood up. “I’m thankful for my husband and my family and for the grace the Lord has shown, thought I went astray in previous years while battling drugs and rehab,” she said.

A middle-aged man was next. “I’m thankful my wife, though she’s ill with cancer, is still alive, and that I’m able to be with her at the hospital. I’m thankful for my children and what they are becoming.”

“I’m thankful for my mommy and baby brother,” a little girl about three years old said.

Wylanda then stood. “I’m thankful for my best friends and that I’m a child of the King—and that we’re all able to be here tonight as God’s family,” she said firmly.

Miriam was next. “I’m so grateful for my unborn sibling and for the fact that God is with us and that I’m able to stay in this neighborhood,” she said.

A few more people went before Cloudy stood and prepared to say what she was thankful for. Her eyes landed on the knight, who was holding his mother’s hand. Scazzarda smiled at him, and his eyes glowed light blue.

Cloudy lifted her head and said strongly, “I have many things I am thankful for, but before I begin, I want to say something.
“I am aware many here are struggling with past trauma, and I will not say I can relate, because I cannot. But I can tell you this: If you have the Lord Jesus Christ in your life, you are in good hands. The Lord will preserve you if you trust Him.
“I am also aware that many here may not have ever made a personal choice to accept the Lord. If so, the time is now. Today is the day of salvation; don’t wait any longer. You’re not promised tomorrow, nor your next breath.”

Springtime listened to her daughter speak these bold words and smiled at her husband. He nodded imperceptibly and listened.

“And now for my thankfulness list: I am thankful for my family and my friends. I am thankful that we are all here to tonight. I am thankful that I have shelter, food, water, a good school, and good hygiene,” Cloudy said. Some people chuckled at the last statement. “But most importantly, I am thankful that Jesus is my Friend and that He will never forsake me or leave me. I am thankful Jesus is Jesus!”

Everyone began to clap. It started out quietly and then grew louder and louder until Cloudy thought she would become deaf. She pinned down her ears to block out the roar of the mass of clapping hands and paws. The applause went on for so long that finally Springtime had to stop it.

“Now who wants to say grace?” Showerstorm asked.

“I will,” Scazzarda volunteered.

While Scazzarda payed for God’s blessing over the food, Cloudy looked over at the knight. He seemed ill at ease and rather uncomfortable with the fact that his mother was praying. Cloudy felt a bit concerned and sorry for him. He didn’t strike her as the kind to trust others, and she felt it had something to do with his past. She made up her mind to be his personal friend. So while the others were praying, she quickly grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and scribbled down a short but powerful poem. She folded it carefully and tucked it away as Scazzarda finished her prayer.

“Now let the feast begin!” Springtime announced.

As happy hands passed around the food from table to table, Miriam leaned over and whispered to Cloudy, “Isn’t it amazing what the Lord can do?”

“Yes,” Cloudy said softly—and she meant it.

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Five: Wylanda’s Ingratitude

 

Cloudy watched Wylanda stalk off, her hair blowing back in a light breeze, the hem of her dress flapping lazily. When she had disappeared among the thick crowd, Cloudy turned to the knight and apologized, “I’m sorry about Wylanda, Magnus. She’s quite rude to everyone she meets except for those who are in her social status lane.”

The knight bowed his head, extremely uncomfortable. Uncomfortable both with being made fun of and being the center of someone’s sympathy, which he absolutely hated. He managed a smile. “It’s okay, Cloudy. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Dang right it wasn’t her fault!” said Eloise. “Why, I bet you anything Wylanda’s parents don’t raise her right! No wonder she’s a spoiled brat!”

Sharkell tilted his head. “But if so, Eloise, why do they send her to a Christian school? Why bother to spend all that money when they could just get her into the local public school for free?”

Eloise shrugged. “I wish I knew that part of the puzzle.” She scowled angrily. “But nonetheless, Wylanda should know better than to behave so irrationally.”

Scazzarda brushed an ant off her dress. “Now, now, kids. We may not understand exactly why Wylanda acts the way she does, but the important thing is to treat her with kindness.” She shook her head a little sadly. “I think that girl may have some personality problems linked to her past.”

Cloudy frowned, her eyes thoughtful.

Star paid little attention to Scazzarda’s words. Sitting down and scratching her ear, she addressed herself directly to her friends. “Speaking of Wylanda’s parents, have you guys even seen them? They don’t like anything like Wylanda. They have dark skin, too, unlike her.”

Sniper scoffed. “So? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It might,” Star told him, briefly detaining from her ear-scratching and looking at him. “She could be adopted.”

“Or maybe her parents’ family lines are mixed,” Sniper pointed out. “Maybe one line has dark skin color and the other light.”

“Maybe.” Star sighed deeply. “But even their physical features aren’t the same. They look completely different.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s adopted,” Sniper said. Then his face lit up and he grinned. “Maybe she was kidnapped like that girl in the movie Tangled was by that creepy woman.”

“Okay, going a little too far there, Sniper,” responded Cloudy, giving him a sideways look. “But maybe Star’s right. Maybe the girl really is adopted.”

“Who cares if she is? Doesn’t give her a right to be mean, does it?” Sharkell snapped. “She should learn to be nicer to us.”

“Well, maybe we should learn to be nicer to her,” Cloudy retorted.

“Huh?!” Sniper exclaimed, completely taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“We haven’t exactly been very nice to her,” Cloudy admitted. “When she said mean things to us, we reacted rudely, though some of us might not have known it. Maybe we thought we were handling the situation the way it was supposed to be handled, but that’s not the case. In hindsight, we’re really acting just as bad as she is.”

Sniper was too stunned to speak, but Sharkell asked, “What showed you we were doing that, Cloudy?”

Cloudy cast a glance at Scazzarda. “Miss Scazzarda did. It was what she said about treating Wylanda with kindness that really got me thinking, and it occurred to me that that was not what we have been doing. Rather, it was the—” She hunted for the right words. “—the polar opposite.”

“Oh. . .” Sharkell’s voice trailed off.

Sniper finally spoke. “But why should we treat someone with kindness when they’ve been so mean to us?”

“Gosh, Sniper!” Cloudy burst out, frustrated with him. She stood up straight, her tail erect and her voice loud as she glared angrily into the wide, astonished eyes of her older brother. “Even God tells us to love and treat our enemies with kindness! Don’t you ever read God’s Word?”

Sniper’s response sent a shock wave through her body: “Don’t you?”

The fire melted out of Cloudy’s eyes. She stared at Sniper, his eyes glaring defiantly into hers, his angry look communicating something to her. And she suddenly understood. Why was she bearing down on her brother for something she was guilty of as well? Jesus’ words from Matthew 7:1-5 popped into her mind:

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”

The passage was not referring to literal specks and logs, but rather sin. Two or more people who have committed the same sin cannot judge one another because they are all guilty. It was like scolding your little sister for her theft of a cookie from Mom’s cookie jar when you stole a cookie too.

Cloudy whapped her tail slowly, lost in thought, her gaze to the ground. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then looked up at Sniper. “Sniper, I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged you for being mean to Wylanda. I’m guilty for being mean to her as well. Please forgive me.”

Sniper chewed his lower lip and looked at the slide, the swing, the tree house, and finally Cloudy. “Apology accepted. I forgive you,” he said softly.

Cloudy looked to the knight to see if he had any comment on this, but the realized he was gone. She blinked in surprise and quickly looked this way and that, but didn’t see him anywhere. “Miss Scazzarda?” she shouted.

“What is it, dear?”

“Where’s Magnus? He’s not here!”

“Hmm?” Scazzarda stood up and shaded her eyes from the glaring sun, looking around for her son. When she couldn’t spot him, she shrugged and sat back down in her shady spot underneath the tree house. “Oh, he probably went off by himself for a while. He does that a lot. Don’t worry about him.”

“Why does he go off by himself?” Star wondering, gazing wonderingly at Scazzarda.

“When he wants to be alone or to think.”

“What does he want to think about?” Sniper asked with a slight smirk. It was obvious he was being more than a little nosy.

Scazzarda’s tranquil expression changed to one of uneasiness and wariness. “Well, I can’t say.”

“Why not?” Arrow asked.

“You’re not old enough to understand,” was the reply.

Arrow decided not to say anything more. So did Cloudy. Both decided to trust Scazzarda’s judgment; after all, she was older and wiser. The other children looked curiously at one another, their eyes bright and puzzled, but did not speak.

“Oh, oh,” Miriam said, noticing her mother standing at the edge of the crowd and waving to her. “Looks like Mom wants me. BRB.” And like a shot, she was off and running.

“BRB?” Cloudy repeated.

“Be right back,” Scazzarda murmured sleepily, her eyes drifting closed.

“Oh.” Cloudy fell silent, watching Miriam tear through the throng as fast as she could.

 

* * * * *

 

“What?!” Miriam stared wild-eyed at her mother, her face full of shock and disbelief. “We have to leave the feast?! Why?!!”

“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” Meredith said shortly. “I’m tired and dizzy and I feel sick. I just want to go home.”

Miriam caught her mother’s hand and pressed it gently to her chest. “Mom, you’re stressing yourself out too much. You need to relax.”

“Relax!” Meredith spat the word as if she had heard something unpleasant. “How can I relax if my husband is weak and injured and we’re about to be homeless?!”

Miriam was surprised beyond measure. If her mother had ever showed any lack of faith, it was now. Putting her hands on her hips and speaking sharply, Miriam retorted, “Mom, what happened to trusting God to provide for our needs?”

“Provide.” Meredith whispered the word as though it were foreign to her. “Provide?” Her eyes glazed over and she grabbed the top fence rail.

“Mom?” Miriam said, fear beginning to bubble up in her at her mother’s strange look. “Are you all right?”

“I’m. . .fine. . .” Suddenly Meredith swayed and almost fell, but Miriam caught her arm and stopped her from toppling to the ground.

“Meredith!” Springtime yelled, running toward her with Showerstorm in tow. “Are you okay?”

Meredith turned toward Springtime, her eyes devoid of any light. “No.” She sounded as if she would cry.

“Mom!”

“Meredith!”

“Here, I’ve got her,” Showerstorm said, supporting Meredith as he led her to the house to lie down. Springtime watched them go, then turned to Miriam. “Your mother will be okay, honey,” she said soothingly.

Miriam’s face was filled with worry and her eyes with tears. Her chin trembled as she whispered, “is Mom sick? Is something wrong with her?”

Springtime knelt down so that she was on eye level with the little girl. “Has your mother had these symptoms for a while?”

Miriam nodded. “Yeah, for about three weeks or so.”

“Has she vomited in the morning at all?”

Miriam nodded again, looking confused. “Why do you ask?”

Springtime grinned widely as she stood up and headed for the house. “If I’m not mistaken, Miriam,” she said over her shoulder, “you might be having a little brother or sister soon!”

Miriam stared at Springtime’s retreating back, amazed. A little brother or sister?! Did that mean a baby?!! Miriam was so happy she smiled, her heart full of gladness. She wanted to dance, jump, laugh, whoop with joy, shout the good news to everyone—but she didn’t.

“I must run to tell my friends,” she said to herself. “They’ll be amazed.” With these thoughts in mind, she sprinted excitedly in the direction of the tree house, pausing only when someone got in her way. Politely she asked them to move and was off again.

Miriam was almost to the tree house when someone stepped in front of her again. With a resigned sigh, she was about to ask the person to please move aside when she saw who it was. Her breath caught in her throat and her dark eyes grew wide.

It was Wylanda!

For a moment, the two stared each other down. Then Wylanda spoke, “Where are you going, little beggar girl?”

Miriam found herself blushing as she glanced at her worn brown dress. She was furious, about to bite back with a lashing retort, but then recalled what Scazzarda had said about treating Wylanda with kindness. “Um, hi, Wylanda,” she said, mustering up her friendliest voice. “I was just going to see my friends.”

“Why?” Wylanda sneered. “Do you have some exciting piece of news that you’re just dying to share with them?”

Miriam nodded, her face lighting up with joy. Wylanda noticed her change of expression. “As a matter of fact, I do have some exciting news, Wylanda.”

An interested expression came over Wylanda’s face. “What?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

“My mom’s having a baby!” Miriam announced.

Wylanda’s mouth flew wide open in shock. “What??”

“I know! I know! It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Miriam danced about happily. “I’ve always wanted a sibling and now I’ll have one! Yay! Praise God!”

Wylanda narrowed her eyes at the mention of God. “Why would God give you a sibling?” she asked in a surly tone.

Miriam’s face flushed red with anger at the rude question, but she decided to be gracious. Pasting a smile on her face, she answered,” Because God loves me!”

“God loves you?” Wylanda sounded genuinely confused. “Why would He love you?”

“Because I’m His daughter and He’s my Father.” Then Miriam stopped dancing and looked solemnly at Wylanda, and with a gentle voice said, “You could be His daughter too, Wylanda, if you would ask Him to take you in.”

Wylanda threw up her hands and rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Miriam, my own father wasn’t even reliable. Why would I ask some strange Galilean carpenter Who lived two thousand years ago to be my Father?”

Miriam frowned, pondering Wylanda’s words. “Wait. Did you just say your own dad wasn’t reliable?”

Wylanda’s eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth, realizing she had just slipped up. “Um, never mind. That was never meant to be revealed to anyone. . .”

Miriam’s eyes filled with compassion. “Oh, Wylanda. You were adopted, weren’t you?”

Wylanda didn’t answer.

“Your biological parents probably did something to you and you were taken from them and sent to an orphanage. Is that right?”

There was silence. Then Wylanda answered faintly, “I never wanted anyone to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were adopted?”

“Because you all come from good homes and I don’t want to be noted as the outcast,” Wylanda snapped. “Okay? My parents left me on the sidewalk when I was born because they didn’t want a girl, for goodness’ sake! My neighbor took me to the orphanage and two years later, I was adopted by Mother and Father Coven. They’ve taken care of me ever since.”

Miriam felt sorry for Wylanda for the first time. “Unfortunately, you’re not alone in that situation. Most kids are adopted, Wylanda.”

Wylanda’s face was taut with bitterness. “If God really loved me, I don’t think He would allow me to go through such a thing as that, would He? Am I some kind of stranger to Him because I was adopted?”

Miriam shook her head. “No. No one is a stranger to God, Wylanda. He made everyone and everything; He knows all their names. He created the sun, moon, stars, planets, galaxies, animals, and everything else you could think of! But He didn’t just create the universe and then sit back to let it run on its own. No, He cared for His creation. He still is caring for it, in fact, and will until the end of the age. Wylanda, God is the most trustworthy Person in existence.”

“I thought God died,” Wylanda said. “He died on the cross many years ago.”

Miriam stoutly nodded her head. “Oh, He died, all right. He died for you and me. He took everyone’s sins on His shoulders and drank every drop of His Father’s wrath so we wouldn’t have to. But He’s not dead anymore,” she proclaimed. “He rose from the grave three days after He was crucified and conquered death and sin!” Her eyes bright, she asked, “Do you believe that, Wylanda?”

Wyladan raised an eyebrow and tapped her forehead thoughtfully, carefully thinking of her words. “I mean. . .yeah, I believe in God. I believe He’s real and He’s divine and that He died on the cross and that He’s three people in one—Father, Son, and Spirit.” She hesitated a moment, as if uncertain of something.

Miriam prodded, “So what do you not believe?”

Wylanda acted a bit startled by the question, but answered, “Well, I don’t believe that God loves everyone like some Christians say he does. I mean, like, what about those with bad backgrounds and incredibly evil pasts? Why in the world would God want anything to do with them? I also do not believe He rose from the dead. If He really is alive, he should be caring for and protecting His creation, and from what I’ve seen, that’s not the case. There’s so much evil in the world and hardly any good, you know. If I were God, I wouldn’t allow anything terrible to happen.”

Miriam nodded, though she was slightly puzzled by Wylanda’s views of the world. “Can you explain why you believe what you do?”

Wylanda scratched her head and looked at her freshly painted fingernails. “Um. . .well, I mean, from what my old public school teachers taught me, the Bible is not a Book to be taken literally. You have to use your brain and decide which parts are reliable and which parts that weren’t mean to be taken literally. . .” He voice trailed off as she noticed Miriam staring at her.

“But Wylanda,” Miriam insisted, spreading out her hands, “if you don’t believe certain parts of the Bible, why believe any part of it?”

Wylanda didn’t know how to answer. “Are you trying to be smart with me?” she angrily demanded.

“No,” Miriam said, shaking her head. “I’m trying to get you to think.” She took a deep breath and rushed on. “You see, Wylanda, the Bible lines up with history and the world today perfectly. Everything is in line with what the Bible says. Prophecies from the Bible have been and are being fulfilled even today.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to believe everything the Bible says,” Wylanda muttered. “Not unless you can prove to me it’s trustworthy.”

Miriam frowned, but pressed on. “Okay, think of this: If one part of the Bible isn’t trustworthy, should any part be trusted?”

Wylanda just looked at her.

“Or think of this: Why would you believe in something that’s not fully trustworthy?”

Wylanda still didn’t reply. She couldn’t answer the young girl’s questions adequately. “I don’t know,” she said finally, “and I don’t care. The point is, I really don’t want anything to do with all that religion. It’s a waste of time.”

Miriam crossed her arms and got right up in Wylanda’s face, causing her to back away a few steps. “Wylanda, I will say this: Christianity is not a religion. Christianity is trusting in God for salvation and asking Him to be your Lord and Savior. Once that happens, He now governs your life. Now religion—that is working your way to salvation through good works.”

Wylanda blinked, nonplussed for a minute, but she snapped back, “Still, I don’t want to answer to Jesus for everything I ever do. If I’m not saved, I don’t have to go to Him all the time and repent of my wrongdoings, nor do I have to bother with being sure to spend time with Him. I’d rather not do that.”

“Everyone’s going to answer to Jesus one day whether they want to or not,” Miriam retorted. “If you’re saved, you go to heaven. If not, you go to hell. It’s as simple as that. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks—God knows each individual person’s heart and knows whether they are saved or not. Don’t think anyone can run from God, because they can’t. Everyone will either go to one of two places—heaven or hell. Your choice.”

Wylanda’s eyes grew wide as she witnessed Miriam—three years younger than herself—boldly proclaiming the truth to her. For some unknown reason, that made Wylanda feel very small and cowardly, but she couldn’t tell why.

\Wylanda opened her mouth, about to speak, but then shut it her and said quietly, “Okay, then. I get that.” She brushed a grasshopper off her dress and straightened a lock of her hair, then looked at the ground. “Um, please tell me, Miriam, how God can want anything to do with evil people.”

Miriam studied the girl, wondering if she truly wanted to know or was just looking for an excuse to mock her. But there was nothing mocking or sarcastic in Wylanda’s looks.

“Everyone is evil, Wylanda,” Miriam explained. “We’re all born sinners. There’s no pick-and-choose method when it comes to who’s evil and who’s not. Romans 3:23 says, ‘For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ All sin and deserve to go to hell.” She sighed heavily and sadly shook her head. “It all goes back to the Garden of Eden. The world was originally a perfect place, where men and God could talk and be together in perfect harmony. But when Eve ate of the fruit from the tree which Go forbade her to eat from, the fellowship between God and man was broken. God hates sin and can’t look upon it.”

“The why didn’t God stop Eve from disobeying?” Wylanda asked.

Miriam shrugged. “He could have, but then Eve would have been a robot, forced to do what God wanted her to.”

“But I thought God wanted us to do right.”

“He does, but He won’t force us to do so,” Miriam said. “He gives us a choice to do what’s right or wrong. And as Christians, we should want to please God and strive to be like Him. That’s not to say we won’t ever mess up, okay, because we will. We’re not perfect. We still have a sin nature. But God is merciful and will forgive us if we go to Him and repent.”

Miriam felt a thrill run through her. She was actually ministering to someone about God! This was possibly the best thing to happen to her next to her conversion.

“Okay, I get it,” Wylanda said softly. “But what about those with awful backgrounds, like mine?”

“God loves those kinds of people too!” The smallest smile worked its way across Miriam’s face. “But even though there are those who have been brutally abused or have messed up, God doesn’t care. He cares nothing about the past, creed, or ethnicity of someone. All He wants is for all to come to Him and be His children.”

Wylanda nodded understandingly. “I get that.” Then she frowned. “But, um, I have another question.”

“Uh-huh?”

“ Why does God have to send us to hell for committing some small sins, such as lying or stealing something? Our sins are small compared to eternity, so why does He judge us so harshly? I mean, I don’t really think the punishment fits the crime.”

Miriam looked off in the distance and chewed her lip, trying to think of a way to explain the answer to Wylanda. “Okay.” She faced Wylanda again. “Think of this scenario: Suppose a heartless murderer took only one minute to strangle a young child, okay?” Seeing Wylanda’s disgusted expression, she hastened to add, “Sorry if this sounds graphic, but bear with me. Suppose it took only a minute to kill this young girl. Now here’s the question: Would you put him in prison for the same amount of time it took to commit the crime?”

Wylanda shook her head. “No.”

“That’s right. Now picture this: Say this same murderer kills the king of Dreamland, and it takes only thirty seconds. Would you put him in prison for that same length of time in which he was able to murder the king?”

Again Wylanda said no.

“But why not?” Miriam inquired innocently.

“Because that’s not serving justice!” Wylanda protested. “A murderer who kills a king deserves to be put in prison for life, not a few seconds! Justice needs to be served, and the only way to obtain justice is for the murderer to serve a punishment proportionate to the crime he committed.”

“That’s correct,” Miriam said. “Time in prison for assaulting someone depends on the status of the person, right? And killing the king would definitely be at the top of the list.”

“But what does this have to do with my question?”

“God is the Ruler of Creation. He is majestic, wonderful, and awesome. He is above every earthly king or emperor. And sinning against Him requires a very heavy price to pay, which is death. We deserve to die, both physically and spiritually. Therefore, Wylanda, God is indeed giving us a just punishment.”

Wylanda folded her arms. “Who taught you all of this, Miriam?”

“My mother!” Miriam sang.

Wylanda looked surprised, then confused, and last of all troubled, but said nothing. She just glanced at Miriam and then walked off without another word. Miriam watched her go, wondering what was going on in that mind of hers. Then the seven-year-old took to her heels and ran off toward the tree house.

 

* * * * *

 

“Guys! Hey, guys!” Cloudy was roused by Miriam’s excited voice and opened her eyes. She had been taking a lovely nap next to Scazzarda in the shade. Now she stretched, got up, and ambled her way over to her friends.

“Oh, Miriam!” Arrow called, waving a paw. “Hi! What did your mom want you for?”

Miriam was practically wriggling with excitement as she plopped down next to Star. She leaned forward, her eyes bright with joy as she said in a stage whisper, “My mom’s having a baby!”

“What!” the children chorused.

“It’s true! My mom’s pregnant!”

“Congratulations,” came a Spanish-accented voice from the top of a nearby tree. Startled, Miriam looked up and saw the knight standing there, his cape drawn about himself. “Having a baby is always exciting. My daughter is having one nerself.”

“You have a daughter?” asked Cloudy. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Miriam thought the knight’s voice seemed a little sad as he said the words, and she wondered why. However, she was too afraid to ask.

Arrow cleared his throat loudly, causing everyone to turn to toward him. H too had sensed the knight’s unhappy mood and wanted to change the subject. “I, for one, absolutely can’t wait for the feast tonight,” he said. “Miss Springtime says we get to stand up and say what we’re thankful for.”

“And I suppose you’re thankful for this bunch of losers,” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind Star. Arrow gasped softly and the knight visibly tensed. Miriam slowly turned her head and saw Wylanda standing there, her brown eyes dark and intimidating.

“Uhhhh. . .” Miriam was a loss for words.

“What do you want?” Sharkell asked coolly. “We’re trying to have a private conversation here.”

“It won’t be so private once you say it at the dinner table tonight.” Wylanda laughed as if she had just heard the funniest joke on the planet. “You’re talking about what you’re thankful for, aren’t you?”

That was Miriam’s chance. “Yes, Wylanda. Why don’t you join us?”

“What?!” Lily roared. “She’s a brat!”

“No way is she sitting with us! She insulted us and called us losers!” Nika chimed in.

“Okay, that is quite. . .” Scazzarda began, but Wylanda cut her off.

“Oh, be quiet, old grandma.” Back to the children. “I wouldn’t join you guys for the world. Besides, why would I? I don’t have anything to be thankful for.”

“Huh?” Cloudy blinked a few times, completely astounded. “But of course you do!”

“Yeah? Like what?” Wylanda smirked. “Tell me, Prophesied One!”

Cloudy’s mind was spinning with all sorts of things Wylanda could be thankful for. “Well, for one, what about your big mansion and your jewels and your fancy dresses?”

Wylanda suddenly acted very uncomfortable. “I. . .No, I-I don’t. . .”

“What’s the matter, Wylanda? Cat got your tongue?” Sniper asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Wylanda bit her lip. “I. . .I meant that those things don’t make me happy,” she rushed to explain.

“I’m not in the least bit surprised,” Eloise muttered under her breath. “If you don’t have God, you’re not gonna be happy with anything.”

“What about your parents?” Cloudy queried. “Aren’t you grateful for them?”

Wylanda answered defiantly, “No, I’m not grateful for them. They’re so fussy and overprotective of me and won’t let me go anywhere without an adult except for school. They’re stupid, religious, holier-than-thou Christians who make me read my Bible and pray with them every day. Every day, they tell me I need to accept Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. I’m sick of it.”

That surprised Cloudy in more ways than one. She had no idea that Wylanda’s parents were Christians.

But Scazzarda was horrified. “Why, Wylanda Coven!” she exclaimed. “How can you say such awful things about your parents? They love you and try so hard to raise you right.”

“What do I care?” Wylanda shot back. “They can love me, but I don’t love them.”

The children were speechless. The knight, feeling anger and sorrow rising in him, suppressed it with all his strength. But Eloise was thoroughly fed up with Wylanda’s verbal abuse. She stood up and shrieked loudly at Wylanda, causing her to recoil. “I’ve had it with you, Wylanda Coven! I will not put up your insults and complaints any longer! You have no clue what it means to love, you spoiled, rotten girl! You’re a huge loser! You make fun of everyone and laugh at others that are less fortunate than you! You make them feel unappreciated and unloved! Well, guess what? If you show hate to others, I’m going to show hate right back to you!”

“Eloise!” Nika cried. “Eloise, what about the Golden R—”

“No!” Eloise yelled at her little sister. She was so enraged she was shaking. “I don’t give a lick about the Golden Rule anymore! If Wylanda wants to spread hate around, I’ll shove it right back in her face!” Turning back to Wylanda, she continued, “You’ve made others feel miserable for far too long, Wylanda! Now I’m gonna make you feel a million times worse! You’re stupid, you’re ugly, you’re an idiot, and I can’t stand being around you! I’m surprised anyone could! You want to know my honest opinion on you? Well, too bad if you don’t, because here it is: You don’t deserve any love! You. . .are. . . hated!”

“Eloise!” Cloudy screamed at the top of her lungs. “Stop it right now!!”

Eloise stopped yelling and looked at her friend, who was staring at her as if she were a crazy person who had escaped a mental institution. Suddenly realizing what she had done, Eloise gasped and sank to the ground, guilt flooding her through. What had she done? Why had she said such terrible things?

The entire crowd had heard the heated speech and were staring, shocked, at Eloise and Wylanda. Even Mrs. Coven was there, her gaze disapproving as she glared at Eloise with contempt. There was no sound but the whooshing of the wind and the rustle of leaves.

Eloise and Wylanda looked at each other for the longest time, but neither one spoke. Wylanda’s look was one of fright and hurt as she stared with wild eyes at the other girl. Eloise knew she had upset Wylanda with her unkind words and needed to apologize for that. She stood up and said softly, “Um, Wylanda, I. . .”

“No!” Wylanda exclaimed, backing away. Her eyes were full of terror. “Don’t-Don’t you dare come near me!”

“But I want to. . .”

“Get away from me!” With those words, Wylanda took off for the house and disappeared among the crowd. Oddly, Mrs. Coven did not try to stop her.

Cloudy, her eyes narrowed, knew that the time had come to have a calm, serious talk with Wylanda. The longer this unrest went on, the worse things would get with her. With these thoughts in her head, Cloudy started off toward the house.

“Cloudy, where are you going?” Arrow called as she started to walk off.

“To talk to Wylanda,” Cloudy replied without turning around.

“What? Are you joking?” Star inquired. “That girl hates you! She wouldn’t listen to you for anything!”

“Well, I’m going to try,” Cloudy said firmly, a determined and fierce glint in her eye. “Lord knows what Wylanda’s going through. I believe He’s calling me to talk to her.”

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Three: Miriam Capperdale

 

The next morning, Cloudy, and her siblings again headed to school. But this morning they had gotten up two hours before the bell in order to have enough time to invite lots of people to the Thanksgiving feast. Cloudy explained that Sniper and his brothers would invite those inside the school while Star and she would invite those outside.

Cloudy and her sister worked hard; in fact, Cloudy later swore that she had never worked so hard on a project as she did on this one! After an hour, they had successfully answered yes to thirty-three of forty invitations. So far, so good.

Star yawned and leaned against the bus stop sign. “Man, I’m tired. I wonder how many people the boys managed to invite?”

“Hopefully a lot more than us,” Cloudy asserted, worriedly surveying the sheet of paper pinned to her clipboard. On the paper were the names of those who were coming to the feast. “Thirty-three isn’t enough for a giant feast.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it,” Star replied in an unconcerned tone. “I’m sure a ton of people will show up.”

“I hope so,” Cloudy murmured. Then a thought came to mind. “Hey, Star?”

“Yeah?” Star stretched out her back, bracing herself against the sign by digging her claws into the ground.

“Did you—um, well—ever tell Mommy or Daddy about my, uh, fight with Wylanda yesterday?”

Star stopped stretching and stared at her sister. “No, of course not.”

Oh.” Cloudy was silent a moment, then continued, “Did anybody else tell?”

“No. We all agreed not to tell,” Star said.

Cloudy was surprised. “Why?”

“We decided it wasn’t your fault,” Star said. “We all said that Wylanda was being a butt to you and that she deserved to be attacked. Maybe that’ll be a lesson to her to be nicer from now on.” She stared at Cloudy, her blue eyes dark and thoughtful. “And also remember what I told you, Cloudy—us telling Mommy and Daddy anything that you’re dealing with won’t teach you to speak up for yourself.”

Cloudy smiled, but the smile was forced. She felt as though she’d been slapped. “Um, well, okay.”

Just then, a young, dark-skinned girl came out of a small white house next to the school. She wore a short brown dress and a gold filigree bracelet with tiny roses painted on it was around her wrist. She walked over to the bus stop, but halted when she saw Star slumped against the sign. “Um, can you please excuse me?” the girl timidly asked.

Star jumped a little and stared at the girl. “What? Oh, um, I mean, sure.” She moved a few feet away to make room.

“Thanks,” the girl shyly responded. She glanced curiously at the two sisters for a moment, her brown eyes filled with interest. Cloudy and Star eyes her just as intently. Then the girl asked, “Have we met?”

“No,” Star conveyed.

Cloudy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh. Well, my name’s Miriam Capperdale,” the girl said. She pushed back a lock of her wavy hair. “I’m seven.”

“Well, my name is Star and this is my sister, Cloudy. She’s the prophesied Star Warrior who is to save Dreamland from disaster,” Star explained, opening her blue eyes wide.

Miriam’s eyes shone. She was clearly intrigued. “Really? Wow! Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it! At last, you’re here! We’ve all been waiting for a really long time!”

“Well, your waiting has paid off,” Star dramatically declared. “She has come!”

“Okay, okay,” Cloudy giggled. “Don’t overdo it, Star. But yes, I am the Prophesied One. It’s nice to meet you, Miriam.” She smiled as she glanced at Miriam’s bracelet. “And I especially love your bracelet.”

“Thanks,” Miriam replied, turning it on her wrist. “It was a gift from my grandmother before she died. She gave it to me to remind me to always be grateful for everything we have. I value it highly.”

A gust of wind suddenly blew past and Miriam’s dress twisted around her. “Oh, drat!” Miriam grumbled as she yanked at the dress to straighten it out.

For the first time, Cloudy noted that Miriam’s dress was worn and had patches in it. The thin cloth seemed to provide little to no protection against the chilliness of the gusts of wind. Miriam noticed Cloudy staring at her clothing, and Cloudy quickly looked away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Miriam sighed. “Yes, my clothing is not the best. It came from the thrift store, in fact.”

“The thrift store?” Star repeated in disbelief. “Are you a hobo or something?”

“Star!” Cloudy hissed, mortified. She kicked her sister. “Be quiet! She’s not a hobo!”

“Of course I’m not,” said Miriam, sounding offended. “I live in a house, in case you haven’t noticed. That one.” She pointed to the white house she had come out of.

“Then why are you dressed like a poor person?” asked Star.

Miriam glared at Star. “Because I am poor. Obviously.” She crossed her arms and looked away.

“Oh,” was all Star could say. She felt like an idiot. First she had called Miriam a hobo and then asked a dumb question about Miriam being poor. She had made Miriam feel like a total loser and that wasn’t what she had meant to do at all.

Cloudy gave Miriam a sympathetic look. “Are you having any trouble in your family?” she asked. “Not trying to pry,” she hurriedly added. “I just want to help you, is all.”

Miriam nodded sadly and turned to face Cloudy. “We are having some problems. My dad’s in the hospital because he got into a terrible car accident last month. The doctors aren’t even sure he’s going to make it. And on top of that, Mom can’t pay our bills on the house. If she doesn’t pay them before the month is out, we’ll lose our house!”

“Oh, no!” Cloudy gasped. “That can’t happen! It just can’t!”

“We have to do something,” Star said. “Maybe we can ask our parents and our friends to donate some money to your mom. Or maybe we can sell something. Or maybe we can. . .”

Miriam held up a hand and smiled. “It’s nice of you to try to help me, but this is up to the Lord now. I trust He’ll do what is best.”

Star was astounded by the girl’s response. “Wait, are you a Christian?” she asked, astonished.

Miriam nodded. “My whole family is Christian.”

“Our whole family is Christian too,” Cloudy said. “Although Sniper doesn’t really act like he’s one.”

“Who’s Sniper?” Miriam asked.

“Our oldest brother,” Cloudy said.

“Oh.” Miriam pushed back a lock of her black hair and slung her satchel over her shoulder. “Is he mean?”

“Mean enough to save someone’s life,” Star piped in.

“Shh!” Cloudy scolded. “Pipe down, will you, Star?”

Miriam laughed. “Well, he certainly sounds unique. I’d like to meet your family sometime, Cloudy.”

“And I’d like to meet yours,” Cloudy said.

Star cleared her throat and asked in a friendly tone,” So, Miriam, where do you go to school?”

“The public school a few miles down the road,” Miriam answered. She looked up to the sky. “It’s not the best, but I do have some friends there.”

“Really?” Cloudy’s eyes glowed. “Perfect!”

Miriam blinked, startled. “Uh, pardon me?”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you,” Cloudy said. “You see, I live in that house right across from here, and my parents are hosting a Thanksgiving feast there next Thursday. Lots of people will be there. You and your family and friends are invited.”

“Awesome,” Miriam said. “Wait, does it cost anything to get in?”

“Nope. It’s free of charge,” Star said.

“Cool. Then count me in,” Miriam said. “I’ll tell my mom after I get home from school.”

The big yellow school bus pulled up at that moment. “Oh, I’ve gotta go. See you guys later!” Miriam called, and hopped onto the bus. The doors slid shut and the bus pulled away into the cold afternoon, Miriam waving to them from the window. Cloudy and Star waved in return.

Star blew out her breath. “Well, that went well.”

Cloudy just gave her the death stare. “Hmph.”

“What?” demanded Star. “Why are you glaring at me like that?”

“Because you need to learn to shut your mouth,” Cloudy snapped. “You made poor Miriam feel like dirt!”

“Why, just because I asked if she was poor?” Star returned.

“No, because you basically insinuated she was a destitute, homeless outcast,” Cloudy growled. “That’s going too far.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that, but I’ve never seen a girl dressed so plainly as her.”

“So what if she wears rags and goes to the worst school on the planet?” Cloudy asked. “She’s a nice girl.”

“I know,” Star answered sheepishly.

“Hey, girls!” Sniper called, banging open the double doors and bounding toward them with his brothers in tow. “Guess what? We got fifty-three people to come!”

“Awesome!” Cloudy said happily. “Let’s see, thirty-four plus fifty-three equals. . .” She paused a second to do some mental math. “. . .equals eighty-seven!”

“Don’t forget these peoples’ families as well as Miriam and her friends,” Star reminded her.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Wait, you lost me,” Yodi said. “Who’s Miriam?”

“Miriam Capperdale. She’s a girl who lives next door to this school. She’s coming to the feast and bringing her friends,” Star said.

“Miriam Capperdale, eh? Never heard of her,” said Sharkell.

“Of course not. You haven’t met her,” Star said with a snort of contempt. “But she’s very kind and Christian like us.”

“Radical!” Pancake cheered. “I have to meet this girl!”

“Well, you’ll have your chance soon enough,” Star chuckled. “Thanksgiving’s right around the corner.”

Cloudy looked up to the sky and smiled softly. She was glad Miriam had taken such a liking to them, but was concerned for her family. Cloudy decided to talk to her parents that night to see what they could do to help Miriam.

Cloudy heard Star mention the words “Wylanda Coven” and instantly tuned back in to the conversation.

“Hey, you boys didn’t invite Wylanda Coven, did you?” Star asked suspiciously.

Sniper pretended to gag.

“Seriously?” Waffle said, raising an eyebrow. “I hope you’re joking. I’d throw myself into a pit full of poisonous scorpions before I’d invite Wylanda to our Thanksgiving feast.”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure,” Star said. She grinned. “Imagine if she did get invited!”

“She’s ruin the event before it even started!” Sniper declared.

“Yeah, I bet she’d gorge herself on the turkey,” Yodi giggled. “Or maybe she’d say she’s the Thanksgiving queen and make everyone do exactly as she says.”

“Gross,” Star muttered. “I’m just glad she’s not invited. It’s bad enough we have to be with her in school. Just for once I’d like to not see her anywhere near us.”

“I’d like it if she wasn’t anywhere near us at all, but that won’t happen unless she moves away or dies,” Sharkell said lightly.

Cloudy gasped in shock. “Sharkell! Are you wishing death to Wylanda?”

“No, of course not,” Sharkell said. “I’m just saying I wish she would stay away from us for good.”

Just then, the students began pouring in droves into the school. From where she stood, Cloudy could hear the faint ringing of the bell announcing the start of class. “Let’s go!” Sniper sang, dashing toward the front doors, his brothers and sisters right on his tail.

 

* * * * *

 

That night, Cloudy’s family sat around the dinner table eating a delicious supper of chicken, spaghetti and meatballs, and the leftovers of the cake that Cloudy had helped make yesterday.

“So, children, have a good day at school?” Springtime asked.

“Oh, yes,” Sniper mumbled, stuffing spaghetti and meatballs into his mouth. “It was so awesome! We had the best day ever!” He gulped his lemonade down, spilling most of it onto his chest. Then he set the glass down and licked the lemonade around his mouth, the sweet liquid dripping down his chin. Spaghetti sauce lathered his face and a noodle was draped over his nose. Cloudy and Star burst into giggles at his appearance and Yodi goggled while Sharkell, Pancake, and Waffle looked away in disgust, curling their lips in distaste.

Sniper sighed deeply and grinned, his teeth covered with sauce. “Boy, this is a good dinner, Mommy.”

“Eww! Sniper, that’s absolutely revolting!” Springtime exclaimed.

“What is?” wondered Sniper.

“Look in the wall mirror over there,” Showerstorm ordered.

Sniper did and gasped when he saw his reflection. “Oh, man! Is that really me?!”

“Yes,” Springtime answered dryly. Then she couldn’t contain herself. She burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly falling off her chair. The puppies laughed too and so did Showerstorm, though he tried to pretend he wasn’t.

“Um, I’ll be right back,” Sniper said, jumping from his seat and racing to the bathroom. The puppies started laughing all over again.

“Okay, everyone, settle down,” Showerstorm chuckled.

Cloudy flashed a smile and took a bite of cake. She had confess that while Sniper was annoying, he was also a really good mealtime entertainer. Not to mention the class clown and the practical jokester and. . .

“Cloudy, did you hear what I asked you?” Springtime’s voice cut into Cloudy’s thoughts. Startled, Cloudy looked up at her mother.

“Um, I’m sorry, Mommy, I didn’t hear you. I was thinking about something else.”

“I asked, how many people did you kids invite today?” asked Springtime.

Cloudy couldn’t give her an exact number since she didn’t know how many people were actually coming. “Over a hundred,” was all she said.

“Awesome. Your father and I invited a few people too.”

“Who did you invite?” Star wondered.

“Your father invited a few of his coworkers down at the bank,” Springtime said. “I went down to the mall earlier today and invited a few kids and their families. Oh, and this woman named Scazzarda Stellarum is coming with her son. I also ran into Shannon Coven and invited her too, as well as . .”

“Shannon who?!” Cloudy exclaimed, her eyes full of shock.

Springtime turned her head and gave her a surprised look. “Shannon Coven, honey. You know the Covens; their daughter goes to your school, she told me.”

Sharkell slapped his forehead with his paw and groaned loudly.

“NOOOO!” Yodi yelled.

“What’s the matter?” Showerstorm asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Cloudy said quickly. She wasn’t ready to tell her parents that Wylanda was a bully. “We-We were just surprised that you invited the Covens. I mean, I assumed a wealthy family like them wouldn’t want to attend out meager feast.”

Springtime stared at Cloudy as if she were an alien from outer space. “Cloudy, what are you talking about? Why can’t I invite them just because our feast is meager? It’s not about the feast. It’s about friendship and love between stranger and friend. Don’t forget that.”

Cloudy ran a paw across the smooth mahogany tabletop. Why could she just never seem to explain to her mother a lot of the things on her mind?

“Oh, Mommy,” Star said, tugging at her mother’s leg. Springtime looked down at her, a mild expression of puzzlement crossing her face. “We met this Christian girl named Miriam Capperdale at the bus stop today, and she lives next door to our school. She said her mother was going to lose her house because the bills can’t be paid, and they have to be paid before the month is out.” She sat back in her seat. “Can’t we help them?”

Springtime’s eyes clouded. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I never met this family. I don’t even know if Miriam was telling the truth or not.”

“But she said. . .”

“People can say anything they want to, darling, but it doesn’t make it true,” Springtime returned, a little severely. “Don’t fall for everything you hear.”

“But Mommy!” Star burst out. “Her dress was old and patched and she goes to a public school! Aren’t public schools free?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with. . .”

“If public schools are free,” Star broke in, “then maybe her mother sent her there because she was unable to pay for a proper school.”

“Or she doesn’t want to bother spending any money,” Springtime shot back.

“Okay, stop,” Showerstorm said firmly. “Star, we will check in with this family tomorrow. If they are everything you say they are, then we will try to help them. But if not, let this be a lesson to you children not to be gullible. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Star sighed, lowering her head.

Cloudy was worried. What if Miriam and her family were lying about who they really were?

 

* * * * *

 

The next afternoon, Cloudy walked in the front door with her siblings in tow. Ignoring them, she set the picnic basket down and walked into the kitchen. There she saw her parents by the stove, talking to one another in low voices. Their tones were a mixture of concern and excitement, but Cloudy was unable to hear a single sentence of what they were saying.

Springtime looked up at the moment and saw Cloudy. Instantly, she stopped talking and smiled cheerfully. “Hello, dear!” she said.

“What’s happening?” Cloudy asked, rushing up to them.

Showerstorm chuckled slightly. “I guess Star was right.”

“Huh?” Cloudy was puzzled.

“I should have known she was telling the truth,” he went on.

“Can you talk in English and please tell me what’s going on?” Cloudy begged. “Telling the truth about what?”

“Miriam, of course,” Springtime said. “Why, we went over to her house this afternoon while you were having your picnic in the park, and you should have seen her house. It was tiny as heck and the walls were dirty and the paint was chipped, and the back of the roof looked pretty bad too. The electricity doesn’t work right, either.”

“Not to mention we checked online today and found that indeed the bank is demanding heavy fines from Miriam’s mother,” Showerstorm sighed. “Star was right. I should have known.”

“Ohh, is there nothing we can do?!” Cloudy exclaimed in frustration, stamping her foot. “Miriam can’t live on the street and neither can her mother!”

“Calm down, my dear,” Springtime said gently. “We have an idea, but we’ll keep it secret for now. I don’t want to reveal it lest it doesn’t work, you know?”

Cloudy wasn’t sure she did know, but she said, “Yes, Mommy.”

Springtime hugged her daughter. “My dear, the Lord is with the Capperdales and He is with us. If He wills it, Miriam and her mother will not be kicked out of their house. He will reveal the answer in time. But we must trust Him because it is not in our hands—or maybe paws is the better term. Understand?”

Cloudy looked wonderingly at her mother, and she suddenly found herself beaming. “Yes, Mommy, I understand.” She did a little dance around the room. “Now I really can’t wait for Thanksgiving!”

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Two: The Meaning of Thanksgiving

 

Cloudy quickly hurried into her house and slammed the front door shut, abandoning her backpack by the umbrella stand as she did so. “Mommy!” she barked. “Mommy, I’m home!”

Springtime glided from the kitchen and gave her daughter a welcoming hug. “Hello, dear. Where were you? All your siblings got home way before you.”

Cloudy shifted her weight from foot to foot, suddenly nervous. If all my siblings got home before me, then that must mean one of them must have told about the fight with Wylanda. And that means I’m gonna be in for the biggest beating of my life. But how can I possibly explain why I did what I did? “Um, it’s a long story. But to put it bluntly, I met this new student named Arrow.”

Springtime eyed her daughter with a kind smile. “Arrow, huh? You meean the boy from Leupochena?” Cloudy nodded. “Yes, I met his parents a few months ago. How nice that he goes to your school! Did you make friends with him?”

Cloudy furrowed her brow in puzzlement, wondering why her mother wasn’t mentioning the fight with Wylanda. “I did,” Cloudy said, dropping her eyes to the green linoleum, “but I have to confess that I sort of like him.”

Springtime raised an eyebrow. “Ohh. You mean ‘like’ as in you’re in love with him?”

“Ye-ah,” Cloudy said, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. “Now don’t assume he’s my boyfriend or anything,” she quickly added, “because he’s not. We’re just really good friends. I learned he’s a Christian and that he’s practically the same age as me.”

“Wow,” Springtime murmured, straightening Cloudy’s off-kilter bow. “He sounds like a really kind boy.”

“Oh, he is! He is!” exclaimed Cloudy, leaping up and down. “He’s probably the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe so,” Springtime said. A mischievous grin spread over her face. “I’m okay with you guys visiting one another, but no kissing, okay?”

The corners of Cloudy’s mouth tightened into a frown. She was clearly not amused. “Give me a break, Mommy. I wouldn’t do that.”

Springtime giggled and gave her daughter another hug. “I know, darling. I know. Now why don’t you come with me to the kitchen and help me make a cake for dessert tonight?”

Cloudy obliged, though she was confused. She had been expecting to be well-scolded by her mother about attacking Wylanda and receiving a lecture on respecting others. But Springtime still mentioned nothing about the incident. Could it be, Cloudy thought, that she doesn’t know? And if so, why did no one tell?

In a few minutes, flour, sugar, eggs, frosting, and other cooking articles were spread on the counter. Springtime gazed at the cookbook and asked Cloudy to hand her whatever needed to go into the wooden mixing bowl. Cloudy worked cheerfully and willingly, but her mind was still filled with the Thanksgiving story. She was dying to know the meaning of Thanksgiving, but had been too afraid to ask Mrs. Ivy.

Cloudy raised her head and looked at Springtime, who was intent on measuring out five cups of flour and dumping it in the bowl. Cloudy took a deep breath and made up her mind. She would ask her mother.

“Mommy?” Cloudy asked, her voice small.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Springtime patiently said.

Cloudy tapped her paw on the counter for a few seconds, then replied, “In history today, my teacher was telling me about this holiday called Thanksgiving.”

Springtime’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yes! Thanksgiving!” Straightening her apron, she narrated, “About three hundred years ago, the Pilgrims left their old home in Leudon and sailed on the Moonflower for sixty-five days before they landed in the New World. Many died of disease or malnutrition that first winter, but come spring, and Indian named Sumosot helped them, as well as Squinto and Missisoit. And that fall, they had the biggest feast probably ever known in all of Dreamlandian history.” She paused and asked, “Can you hand me two eggs?”

Cloudy nosed them across the counter to her. “Mrs. Ivy said the Pilgrims left their old home in order to worship God freely.”

Springtime nodded as she cracked open the eggs. “That’s right. You see, the king at that time was King James I. He was a brutal tyrant who told the Pilgrims that they had to do what he said and to stay with the Church of Anglen. However, the Pilgrims believed that the Church of Anglen taught many things that weren’t taught in the Bible. Some of those Pilgrims called themselves ‘Separatists’ because they broke ties with the Church of Anglen. King James was furious with their decision and even threw some of them in prison just because they believed differently than he did. He didn’t want them to choose what to believe in.”

Cloudy nodded and absently passed her mother the bag of sugar. “Interesting. I didn’t know about King James. He sounds very forceful.”

“Oh, he was. Especially when it came to religion,” answered Springtime, dumping four cups of sugar in the mixing bowl.

“Were there any mean people on the Moonflower?” Cloudy asked.

Springtime picked up the eggbeater and swirled it around in the cake mix. “Yes. Some sailors hated the Pilgrims for believing in God and praying to Him. In fact, one of those sailors talked often about throwing the Pilgrims to the sharks, but he died of a dreadful disease and was the first to be thrown overboard. Some people believed the hand of God caused him to die.”

“That’s weird,” Cloudy said, “but sort of cool at the same time.” She passed her mother some milk. “Who else was on the ship?”

“Well, let’s see. There was Willie Bronford, the governor; Milan Stondash, the military leader; Elder Brewston, the religious leader of the Pilgrims; Captain Johannes, the captain of the Moonflower; and Jon Howard. He fell overboard during a violent storm but was rescued. The Pilgrims took his rescue as a sign from God that they would make it to the New World.” Springtime took the eggbeater out of the mix. “While all the Pilgrims got along well for the most part, they were not in agreement when it came to landing at the Huckson River.”

“What do you mean?”

Springtime tested the batter to see how thick and smooth it was. “You see, Cloudy, there were two groups of Pilgrims: the Saints and the Strangers. The Strangers wanted to land at the Huckson River, but dangerous shoals on the shoreline prevented that, so they had to sail in a different direction. Needless to say, the Strangers were not happy, and a mutiny nearly occurred before Willie Bronford drew up something called the Moonflower Agreement. It basically said the Pilgrims would all stick together no matter what.”

“Wow!” Cloudy breathed. “My teacher didn’t give this much detail!”

“She’s just trying to keep your knowledge of this spectacular event to your grade level, honey.” Springtime picked up a container of cinnamon and dumped a little into a teaspoon. “Anyway, the Pilgrims all landed at Pimath Plantation and built the Common House that winter, but many people died that first winter of cold, disease, poor nutrition, lack of fresh water, and maybe despair too. But when spring arrived, and Indian named Sumosot befriended the Pilgrims and helped them. He brought Squinto, another Indian, after a few days, and Squinto showed the Pilgrims how to plant corn using herring, a type of fish. Later, Missisoit, his tribe, and the Pilgrims formed a peace treaty with one another. And that autumn, the Pilgrims and the Indians got together for a huge banquet. And that day became known as Thanksgiving.”

Cloudy pondered all this information. “But I don’t understand why we celebrate Thanksgiving,” she said. “What’s the meaning of it?”

Springtime finished mixing all the ingredients together and was now scooping the cake batter into a small round bowl. “Cloudy, we celebrate Thanksgiving so we can remember to be grateful for everything we have. We give thanks for everything God’s given us and what He’s done for us.” She put the eggbeater into the sink and used a butter knife to smooth the top of the mix. “The meaning of Thanksgiving is this, Cloudburst: Be thankful for what you have, big or small, because the Lord has blessed you with it.”

Cloudy stared at her mom as Springtime popped the cake into the oven to bake, then cleaned off the counter. Springtime apparently had learned to be grateful for what she had. She never grumbled about what she didn’t have. Cloudy couldn’t remember a time her mother was ungrateful about anything. I guess what Daddy always says is true, then, Cloudy thought. “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” That meant, her father would explain, that if life threw something hard or unappealing your direction, make the best out of it. Be grateful for what you do have and focus on the bright side instead of sitting in the dark and stewing about how unfair life was.

Springtime guided Cloudy to the sink and helped her rinse the egg yoke and cake mix off her paws, then wiped down the counter with disinfecting wipes. When she finished, Cloudy said softly, “Thanks, Mommy, for telling me about Thanksgiving. I never knew so much about it before.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” Springtime smiled softly. “If you ever want to talk to anyone, your father and I are here. You can tell us anything.”

Cloudy nodded and snuggled up to her mother. Then a question popped into her mind. “Mommy, are we going to do anything for Thanksgiving this year?” she asked.

Springtime chuckled and nodded. “Yes, dear. Your father and I have been talking about hosting a feast on our property and inviting as many people we can, friend or stranger.”

Cloudy started in surprise. “Whoa! You mean we’re just going to be inviting random strangers to our feast?”

“Everyone is welcome, my dear, and who knows? They may respond to the message of the gospel if they haven’t already,” Springtime said cheerfully. “You and your siblings can help. You can invite people from your school, starting tomorrow. Sound good?”

“For sure!” Cloudy barked in excitement and wriggled with happiness. Springtime laughed as she watched her daughter leap about and almost upset the trashcan. This was getting too intriguing! Thanksgiving was on its way!