Christina woke with a start to bright sunlight on the curtains, rippling like water, and drank in the air, still cool at six, although it would surely be a hot day. There was some reason to register on the weather—what was it? Oh, of course, this was The Day, Old Home Day, and a very special one as it was also the celebration of the bicentennial. Goodness, Christina thought, we have been climbing up to this day for a year, and now, as usual, I feel quite unprepared. She glanced at Cornelius, still fast asleep, then slipped out and went to the window to look down at a dragon tail of mist on the meadow, and then up at the mountain, dark glowing presence as the sun turned the rocky summit red. Perhaps somewhere in a hundred years there had been a rainy second Saturday in August; if so, it was the exception. It looked like a perfect day, yet this height of summer, when the green pressed in from all around like a jungle, was not Christina’s favorite season in Willard—this season when the trees looked breathless, smothered in their leaves, and even the meadow, hay still uncut, had a formless overgrown look about it. The design goes, she thought, and except for the sturdy outline of the mountain, we are almost stifled by our rich thick green world. But then, she felt the heat—it did not agree with her. Wonderful to have this hour of peace. Wonderful that Hannah was there downstairs and no effort need be made for a while. How quickly I have come to take her help for granted, Christina thought with a pang. It was only three months ago—less—in June, when Hannah, homeless after Jane’s house was sold, had agreed to come and help out with Cornelius, and to cook. Christina wondered how she ever would have managed this summer without her, as children and grandchildren poured in and out. Keeping the garden watered seemed alone to take all Christina’s strength these days.

Downstairs a door banged. It was not in Hannah’s nature to do anything unobtrusively—when she got going in the morning the Ark shook with her presence, especially as she seemed to get her own motor started by a burst of fury each day.

“Where are you, darling?” Christina turned from the window to see Cornelius’s hand reach out to find her. His eyes were still closed.

“At the window. It’s going to be hot, but glorious.”

“Mm … glorious, eh? Come and give me a kiss.”

“Now open your eyes!” she said, after kissing the lids.

Cornelius’s face when his eyes were closed looked old and worn, but as soon as the brown eyes opened, she met the delighted, expectant gaze of a boy. People just waking up look so new, she thought.