Provenance, Chapter One: Moons and Crows
The year that Amey Hunter turned twenty-two, there was a bumper crop of corn on every farm in the upper Tomassee Valley, and red-winged blackbirds by the dozens took up residence along the lane between the Weatherby’s stable and her great-great-grandfather’s orchard. In Amey’s dreams, while she lay between her peach-colored sheets in her room under the eaves of a red-bricked dormitory that belonged to one of Boston’s best universities, the birds’ chatter turned into an angry hum. So she was not at all surprised when later that morning she opened the letter on aqua note paper and inhaled the aroma of wild roses, read the few lines scrawled there, and realized that her father was about to betray her and her mother one more time.
She was one jot short of hyperventilating when her roommate, Ella, entered the room, her black hair top knotted and sweat streaming from every pore.
“Practice was brutal today. I ran full tilt into that big–” Ella stopped, her hockey stick in hand. Her gaze traveled to the paper that Amey held loosely. “Your Mom? What’s Lucky on about–I mean, is anything wrong?”
Without a word, Amey handed Ella the note.
Ella read, then folded her forehead into wet wrinkles. “She’s unhappy because your dad’s coming home? Why? I thought that was what she wanted.”
Amey had jerked her chin toward the hand her roommate was extending with the note. “There’s a postscript.”
The other girl sunk onto her pink chenille bedspread. “Oh. ‘Give Amey the keys to Full Moon Cottage.’
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Weaver's Knot by Glenda Bailey-Mershon 