The Power of a Few

Paradise ~ 2

~10 years later~

Myra lounged on the lush grass and gazed out on the paradise she called home. Wind rippled across the meadow, making waves in the turf upon which the sheep grazed. The sound of waves crashing on the rocky cliffs echoed across the plane, blending in with the gentle clinks of the sheep's bells. The crisp sea air carried a cool breeze which battled with the heat of the setting sun and sweet aromas drifted down from the small village behind her. Sree was most likely preparing dinner now and Myra's stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Pa would finish up work at the smithy in an hour and he would need a hand closing up shop.

Myra sighed and waited a few more moments to drink in the view, smells, and sounds around her. Especially the sounds. Oh, how they brought her solace. Those soft bells tinkling, the waves lapping the beach, people's feet shuffling home from the market, and metal chains clinking against one another as Pa closed up shop. Pa closing up shop?! Stars! How long had she sat here? Even though Pa's smithy was quite a way from where she was, she could still hear everything. It surprised most people at how well her hearing was, but not Pa. He would just smile and say it was a gift from God to her. Scrambling to her feet she picked up her shepherding staff and dashed toward the lethargic herd. The herd wasn't her family's, no; they belonged to the Holdersons who wouldn't be too pleased with how late she was. She herded the sheep toward their pen next to the Holderson's house. The Holdersons were the wealthiest family in Erarld even though that didn't mean much. Still, they had a two-story abode with a beautiful garden and the only herd in the village which left the whole cotton trade in their grasps. Myra hated working for such money hoarders, but her family needed the pay to survive. Their father's smithy barely made enough to put food on the table, so it was left up to Myra to bring up the end of the money. Sree stayed home and kept the two-roomed hut in order, made the meals, and in her spare time, read the few books they owned. It was a miracle they even had books. Hardly anyone in their village could even read. Passed down from their mother to them, those books were all they had left of her. She died giving birth to Sree and Myra couldn't help notice the guilt of their mother's death in Sree's eyes.

Myra clicked the gate shut just as the last sheep was waddling in and spun around right into Mr. Holderson.

"Myra," he said, clearing his throat, "A little late are we?"

"I'm so sorry Mr. Holderson," She explained, "I got lost in thought and time, and was just closing the pen." The stout man's eyes glanced towards the sheep then back up to her. Myra held her breath, praying he wouldn't give her another task. She was already late as it was. After an eternity of pained silence, he sighed.

"Well, I guess you should hurry on home. Dusk is almost upon us and you don't want to be out when dark comes." Myra said a brief thank you and turned to rush home. When she was out of earshot she let a sigh escape.

"That was close." She dashed through the village, greeting people, skirting around empty carts, and just about ran into a dog. Finally, she made it to the smithy and saw that Pa had already left and was probably waiting for her at home. She criticized herself and continued on the path home until she finally reached the wooden hut. Smoke rose from the chimney and the smell of stew and fresh bread drifted through an open window. Myra's stomach rumbled in response, but she waited outside a little longer to see the first star appear, a ritual she practiced for as long as she could remember. A few minutes passed by before one flickered into existence just over the horizon. Myra smiled and gave a small prayer of thanks before entering through the low door into the home.

She opened the door to a crushing hug.

"Just in time for supper," Ransom, her father, said. She breathed a sigh of relief into her father's warm arms.

"You're not upset that I was late to the smithy?" She asked, her brow furrowed. Her father let her go but left his hands on her shoulders and gazed lovingly into her eyes. He was a giant of a man, in stature and heart. Myra never saw him get upset, and she rarely heard his voice raised. He loved both of his daughters dearly and that love was evident in everything he did.

"I have no clue where you got that absurd idea that you have to help me close up shop every day," he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm a grown man you know. I can take care of myself."

"Hmm. You mispronounced 'old'."

Ransom bellowed out a hearty laugh and patted Myra's shoulder.

"Well, I guess we should hurry and get ready for dinner. Your sister cooked us a mighty feast." Myra snuck quietly past her father and motioned for him to stay there and be silent. She peeked around the corner and saw Sree stirring a pot of stew, her back towards Myra. Tiptoeing, she came behind Sree and shoved her, yelling, "Bah."

Sree screamed and spun around, her eyes wide with shock and then quickly switched to annoyance when she noticed it was her sister.

"How. Many. Times?" Sree questioned, each word asserted with a quick motion of her wooden spoon.

"Until you stop screaming," Myra laughed. Their father chuckled from the doorway.

"Poor girl, you nearly made her jump to heaven and back."

"And that made her all the more angelic," Myra snickered. Sree sighed and rolled her eyes.

"All right you two, wash your filthy hands and set the table. Or you'll be eating nothing but stale bread for a week."

"As you please, your highness," Myra exclaimed with an exaggerated bow, hand raised high above her head. Sree whacked the raised hand with her spoon and shooed her away from the kitchen. Soon all hands were washed and the table set. The three sat around their small table holding hands while Ransom gave a short, heartfelt prayer which ended with a squeeze of his girls' hands. Conversation and laughter filled the home as the small family supped and the room swelled with crackling from the fireplace. As she talked lovingly with her sister and joked with her father, Myra couldn't help but smile. This was heaven on earth. This was paradise.