The next morning, the sisters are wakened by the sounds of air brakes coming to a halt. Wren pulls back the bedroom curtains to see a couple of young farm boys in the yard. She knows them, giving a smile and wave before hurriedly pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater of Lord’s that she finds on the floor. It’s two sizes too big for Wren and fits her more like a dress. “Comfort clothing” she calls it. Wren likes wearing her husband’s clothing when he’s away because the fabric holds his scent.
The neighbour boys are delivering the first cord of firewood that Lord ordered before leaving on his trip. Wren admires them both as they are always so polite and respectful. Their family owns the nursery up the highway, the place where she buys her seedlings. Within minutes, Wren is outside to say hello to them, and to see if they want any help with unloading.
“Morning, Miss. It’s going to be a hot one today,” the blond-haired lad offers as Wren steps out the front door. “Thought we’d get this chore out of the way before the morning breaks.”
He and his brother offer to stack the wood.
“No need,” replies Wren. “We can stack it if you just unload it. My sister is visiting,” she adds, “so we can do it. Nice to have some company as my husband is away on business again.”
“Sure is enough for a lot of bonfires,” the boy remarks. “A lot of fire.”
Working together, the boys seem to unload the entire cord within minutes, offering final goodbyes and waves as they swing back into their green pickup and retreat down the grid leading to the main highway.
All this activity happens before Raven has mustered up the gumption to get out of bed and join her sister outside. When she appears, she’s carrying two mugs of hot coffee. “Good thing you set the timer on this last night,” Raven says and yawns, handing over one of the coffees to her sister. “I can’t imagine starting the day without it.” It’s then she notices the big pile of freshly chopped wood, which appears to be blocking her car in the driveway. “Where did this come from?” she asks.
Wren chuckles and motions to Raven to follow her to the side of the house. The mortar is now dried on Wren’s new outdoor kiln.
“It’s lovely,” Raven says as she observes Lord’s handiwork in building it, “but why do you need another one? You already have a kiln in your studio.”
Wren explains, “When it’s hot out and I’m wanting to fire my work, it’s almost unbearable to be working inside.” She describes how, one morning not long ago, Lord had come home to find Wren taking a cold shower just to cool down. Firing the kiln had made her studio as hot as an oven. “It was after that day he started with plans for this outdoor model. A gift, he said, for our first anniversary.”
“You firing it up this weekend?” Raven asks.
“Hadn’t planned on it…” starts Wren.
“Good,” Raven interjects, “because I have a plan. Tell you all about it in a few minutes. Let’s head in for some breakfast first.”
While the two walk back to the farmhouse, Wren finds herself feeling content and rested. A night has passed since the baby went away, but Wren has the comfort of her sister keeping her heart safe, even if her sleep has been interrupted by that recurring and macabre dream about the scarecrow and red cravat. She figures it’s because the two have been joking about old times, and is there such a thing as too much fresh air?
The twins have walked in the meadow and along the banks of the stream, just like they did when they were girls, picking rocks and wildflowers. Wren finds the familiarity brings her calm. This morning, she notices Raven does not bring up the subject of the baby going away, which is just as well. It will take some time for Wren to accept what happened, and even more time to decide whether to let her husband know.
Later, while the two are stacking cordwood, Raven mentions the shindig happening down at the local watering hole. “Come on, we should go,” Raven urges. “It’ll do you some good. Besides, it will give me a chance to meet some of the characters in town who you’ve been describing.”
It’s hard to say no to some harmless activity aimed at cheering her up, so Wren agrees; before long, the two find themselves in the basement of the farmhouse digging through old clothes that might serve as redneck attire.
“I stored all my fat clothes down here,” Wren admits. “You know the ones.”
Raven nods. She does indeed know the practice of keeping oversized clothing in the closet, just in case.
“I’ve been meaning to send these to the Sally Ann for a while now,” Wren says about the clothes.
“Well, good thing you didn’t. We can find some redneck costume items in here for that party, I’m sure. As Raven rifles through a black garbage bag of clothes, she snickers at some of the styles. Just then, Wren notices a piece of clothing that she knows she didn’t put down there: a red and white gingham dress, the same style that she’s seen on the scarecrow in her dreams.
Where did it come from?