![\"Grampa](\"https:\/\/huffhimself.files.wordpress.com\/2018\/11\/grampa-smiths-farmhouse-2.jpg?w=1024\")
<\/p>\n“Jamey!”\u00a0 Gramma called from the foot of the stairs.\u00a0 “Are you coming down?\u00a0 Breakfast is ready.”<\/p>\n
On the bed a pile of quilted blankets stirred.\u00a0 Jamey popped his head out from beneath the covers.<\/p>\n
“Coming, Gramma!”\u00a0 He answered.\u00a0 Sitting up, he groped for his clothes.\u00a0 “Let me get dressed.”<\/p>\n
As he pulled his clothes on, his thoughts turned to his parents. They were on their second-honeymoon, going to the same place they had gone before, fifteen years ago.\u00a0 Jamey had wanted to go, but his father had explained it to him.\u00a0 This was something very special for his mother and father, and it was important that they spend some time together, just the two of them.\u00a0\u00a0 He wasn’t so sure he understood, but after last night, he was sure he wished he was home instead of here.<\/p>\n
Jamey remembered last night.\u00a0 It had been a nightmare.\u00a0 He lay awake all night in his father’s old attic bedroom, dark as a tomb.\u00a0 A tree branch scratched at the window, like a skeletal hand seeking entry; an owl hooted constantly, while all the while the house creaked and groaned.\u00a0 Jamey had done precious little sleeping.<\/p>\n
“It was all that racket,” he told himself, but he knew better.\u00a0 It wasn’t the noise that had kept him awake.\u00a0 It was his fear.\u00a0 He knew it, but he didn’t like to admit it.\u00a0 “No self-respecting twelve-year-old is afraid of the dark,” he told himself.\u00a0 “That is, none but this one.” At breakfast, he just picked at his food glumly.<\/p>\n
“What’s the matter, Jamey?\u00a0 You don’t feel well?”\u00a0 Gramma asked with concern.<\/p>\n
“No.\u00a0 I feel alright.”\u00a0 Jamey answered.\u00a0 “Really.”<\/p>\n
“Well, something is the matter.\u00a0 Grammas can always tell, you know.\u00a0 So, what is it?”<\/p>\n
“Nothing, Gramma!”<\/p>\n
She looked at him over her glasses.<\/p>\n
Looking away, Jamey said, “I couldn’t sleep, that’s all.\u00a0 I guess<\/p>\n
I wasn’t very tired.”\u00a0 He hoped that she would be satisfied with that.<\/p>\n
She wasn’t.\u00a0 “It’s darker in the country at night; no street lights, you know.\u00a0 Sometimes I forget that: it takes some getting used to, especially when there’s no moon out.”<\/p>\n
She poured herself some tea. “I meant to leave a light on\u00a0for you last night, just until you get used to the place.\u00a0 Remind me to do that tonight, okay?”<\/p>\n
Jamey looked at Gramma with admiration and wonder.\u00a0 Sure!” he said, “And thanks!”<\/p>\n
Gramma smiled, her wrinkles crinkling around her eyes.<\/p>\n
“Here, have another muffin.”<\/p>\n
That morning Jamey spent exploring the wood and hill round the farm.\u00a0 He even rode his father’s old bike to Mr. Clancy’s farm, Gramma’s nearest neighbor who lived about a half-mile down the road.<\/p>\n
“You tell your grandmother to get her furnace lit.\u00a0 There’s a blue Norther’ blowing in tonight!”\u00a0 Mr. Clancy spoke with concern.\u00a0 Ever since Grampa had died, the Clancy’s had kept a neighborly eye on Grandma.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, which had been unseasonably hot, the wind began to pick up speed, blowing in gusts from the north.\u00a0 Soon the sky became overcast, the clouds scudding before the wind like animals before a fire.\u00a0 Within a couple of hours, the temperature had dropped forty degrees, and by supper it was well below freezing.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It began to hail and sleet, the frozen pellets bouncing off the roof like rocks.\u00a0 By supper’s end, the hail was replaced by snow, a steady supply drifting downward, with an occasional, but furious, gust of wind.<\/p>\n
Jamey volunteered to do the dishes and Gramma cleared off the table.\u00a0 While the storm raged outside, picking up intensity with every passing moment, inside it was snug and warm, a comfortable, cozy shelter.\u00a0 Jamey felt content.<\/p>\n
“Well, now that the table’s cleared, I believe I’ll go out and check on the animals,” Gramma said. It won\u2019t take but a\u00a0moment, then I’ll be right back.”\u00a0 She bundled up and went out the back door.<\/p>\n
Five minutes went by.\u00a0 Ten minutes: the dishes were done, the glasses dried and put away.\u00a0 Twenty minutes.\u00a0 Thirty!<\/p>\n
Jamey paced the floor.\u00a0 “Surely it doesn’t take this long just to check on a few dumb animals!”\u00a0 He was upset and beginning to really worry.<\/p>\n
Not able to wait any longer, Jamey went to the back door and looked out.\u00a0 It was pitch black; he couldn’t see a thing.<\/p>\n
Reaching for the switch, he turned flipped it up.\u00a0 “It must be burned out!”<\/p>\n
Jamey’s hands sweated.\u00a0 “She’s probably alright.”\u00a0 he said to himself weakly.\u00a0 He wanted nothing more than to just leave the door closed and the darkness safely on the other side.<\/p>\n
“But she could be in trouble.\u00a0 I’ve got to find out!”\u00a0 His hand gripped the doorknob until his fingers ached.\u00a0 Everything inside him fought against fear and indecision. Finally, he threw the door open and stood facing the chilling blast of night.<\/p>\n
“Gramma!” Jamey cried.\u00a0 He ran to her where she lay sprawled at the foot of the stoop, unconscious.\u00a0 Already snow covered her, and he wiped it away from her face.\u00a0 She must have slipped on the ice that had formed on the concrete steps.\u00a0 She lay on her back; her glasses, bent and crooked, were shoved up on her forehead; her face was pale and pasty.<\/p>\n
Jamey’s mind raced like mad.\u00a0 He knew he shouldn’t move her, in case her injuries were serious.\u00a0 Besides, he doubted he could.\u00a0 “But if I leave her here, she’ll freeze to death!”\u00a0 Despite the cold, Jamey’s hands sweated.<\/p>\n
“The phone!\u00a0 I’ll call for help!”\u00a0 Running inside, he grabbed the phone.\u00a0 There was nothing but static.\u00a0 It didn’t work.\u00a0\u00a0Biting his lip and trying to think, Jamey fought back the tears that threatened to erupt.\u00a0 “If only Mom and Dad were here,” he cried.\u00a0 “Someone.\u00a0 Anyone besides just me.”<\/p>\n
“Mr. Clancy!”\u00a0 he said out loud.\u00a0 “I can get Mr. Clancy!” But first he must do something about Gramma.\u00a0 He had an idea.<\/p>\n
Running to his room, Jamey stripped his bed.\u00a0 In Gramma’s room he found a pile of quilts.\u00a0 Carrying them outside, he covered Gramma from head to toe, making sure she had room to breathe.<\/p>\n
“There that ought to keep her warm enough for a while.”\u00a0 he said to himself.\u00a0 To Gramma, he said, “Hold on Gramma!\u00a0 I’m going to get help.\u00a0 You just hold on!”<\/p>\n
A search of the kitchen turned up a flashlight with a weak light.\u00a0 It would have to do.\u00a0 Shrugging on his coat, Jamey rolled the bike down the driveway and onto the road.\u00a0 The darkness closed around him, the pale beam of the flashlight useless in the falling snow.<\/p>\n
Jamey swallowed hard.\u00a0 The fear he had conquered in the kitchen came again and beat upon his imagination.\u00a0 The wind began to blow even harder, driving the snow into his eyes, making it nearly impossible to see.<\/p>\n
![\"Winter](\"https:\/\/huffhimself.files.wordpress.com\/2018\/11\/winter-ride.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
“I can’t stop.\u00a0 I can’t stop!\u00a0 For Gramma’s sake, I’ve got to go on!”\u00a0 He forced himself to think only of reaching the Clancy’s. The wind, icy, sharp-fingered, tore at his clothes, trying hard to throw him down.\u00a0 Failing at this, it shook the trees in fury, howling at him as he passed.<\/p>\n
Just as he lost hope, when he was sure he wouldn’t make it and not only he, but Gramma as well, would perish in the storm, he was there.\u00a0 Pedaling with the last of his strength he plowed up the driveway.<\/p>\n
“Mr. Clancy, Mr. Clancy, open up!\u00a0 It’s Gramma, she’s hurt!”\u00a0 He shouted as he pounded at the door.<\/p>\n
Mr. Clancy opened the door, exclaiming. “Why it’s Mrs.<\/p>\n
Wilson’s grandson.\u00a0 Come in boy, before you freeze to death!”<\/p>\n
“I can’t Mr. Clancy, Gramma’s hurt bad.\u00a0 She fell outside, and she won’t wake up.\u00a0 You got to help me.\u00a0 I can’t move her!”<\/p>\n
Only moments later, they were speeding back down the road to Gramma’s house.\u00a0 Jamey prayed that it wasn’t too late.<\/p>\n
Much later that night, Jamey sat on the bed in the attic, completely exhausted.\u00a0 Downstairs, he could hear his Aunt Mary puttering around.\u00a0 She had come to keep an eye on him, and to help Gramma when she came home from the hospital.<\/p>\n
Jamey’s parents had been called and were ready to cut their vacation short.\u00a0 His mother had wanted to leave right away.\u00a0 But Uncle Richard had reassured them.\u00a0 “It was only a little concussion.\u00a0 The doctor wanted her to stay the night just for safety’s sake.\u00a0 You know Mom,\u201d he told Jamey’s dad, “It would take more than a bump on the head to keep her down.<\/p>\n
“By the way, that’s some boy you have there.\u00a0 If it hadn’t been for him, things might have turned out differently.\u00a0 You know, his quick thinking kept her alive. He set out for help in the middle of the biggest storm we’ve seen around here in a long time. A real hero!\u00a0 That\u2019s what he is, not afraid of anything.<\/p>\n
You should be proud.”<\/p>\n
“Not afraid of anything…\u201d the words echoed in Jamey’s head. Wasn’t that something?\u00a0 He, Jamey, not afraid of anything!\u00a0 He didn’t know about the hero stuff.\u00a0 What else could he have done?<\/p>\n
But it occurred to him, he had faced the night, the storm, and his own fear, and he’d won.\u00a0 As he shut off the light, he remembered.\u00a0 It wasn’t that he hadn’t been afraid; it was that he hadn’t let it keep him from doing what he had to do.<\/p>\n
Snuggling into the bed, he knew he had it beat.\u00a0 Tonight, would be a night without fear.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
“Jamey!”\u00a0 Gramma called from the foot of the stairs.\u00a0 “Are you coming down?\u00a0 Breakfast is ready.” On the bed a pile of quilted blankets stirred.\u00a0 Jamey popped his head out from beneath the covers. “Coming, Gramma!”\u00a0 He answered.\u00a0 Sitting up, he groped for his clothes.\u00a0 “Let me get dressed.” As he pulled his clothes on, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-511","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-short-story"],"yoast_head":"\n