Holly Fever (Mondamin Court #1)

Chapter Nine

Zoey woke on the floor, light streaming through the front window. Esther was curled up next to her under a mound of blankets. The fire in the stove had died down, and the room was cold but not unbearably so. Zoey sat up, stiff and sore. She found Ruth watching her from under heavy lids.

Esther stirred as Zoey moved. "Hey, Esther. Merry Christmas." She then looked pointedly at Ruth.

Esther leaped to her feet. "Ruth! You're alive." She hugged her sister and began to ramble. "Mom died, Ruth. And Ethan. But I found Zoey. Zoey's a boy but she wants to be a girl and she's helped me and we brought you here and she has goats and . . ."

Zoey rose. It was easier, physically and emotionally, to get herself up and moving this morning. She added more wood to the stove. She put on her snowsuit and went outside. She brought in more wood. She checked the tap; the water wasn't running. She found two clean buckets and filled them at the well in the backyard. She took one inside and set it on the stove to warm up. The other she put in the goats' pen. While the billy drank, Zoey milked the nannies. Then she gave them more straw and some feed pellets.

Esther was patting Ruth's forehead with a damp cloth when Zoey came back in and sat the goat milk on the table. "See?" she told her sister. "Fresh goat milk. It's tangy, but it will make us healthy." Ruth scowled, unsure what to make of things.

"I will get you some juice," Zoey said to Ruth. "And then, if you feel like it, some food." She found some juice in the pantry and poured both of the girls a glass.

As she came back into the room, she looked out the window. It had snowed through the night, and a large drift crossed the street. No plows. Then again, this street was never high priority. A small form was struggling over the drift. Zoey's brow furled. Could it be?

She sat the juice down and went to the window, trying to confirm what she saw. A child, not more than a toddler, was trudging down the street. "Wait here," she told Esther and went out.

It was a girl, maybe three years old. She was dark skinned with curly hair. Zoey called to her. "Hey, you, what's up?"

"Mom, Dad," the girl said pointing. "Help them."

Zoey scooped the child into her arms. "I'm gonna take you inside, where it's warm, okay?" The girl's coat was unzipped, and her boots were on the wrong feet, like she'd dressed herself. Probably had.

"No, no," the girl insisted, squirming out of Zoey's grasp. Zoey looked back at the house to see Esther was standing at the door, watching them. Zoey shrugged and gestured Esther back inside. She knelt and zipped the girl's coat.

"Fine," she said. "We'll try it your way." She tried to put the girl's hood up, but her coat didn't have one. She took off her stocking cap and shoved it over the girl's head. She picked her up again. "Now where are they?" The girl pointed, and Zoey trudged down the street. "What's your name?"

"Misshasha," the girl replied. "Mom and Daddy." She pointed down the street. Zoey assured her they were going there.

Misshasha had left the front door wide open. Zoey mounted the steps and went inside. She bumped a glass of water. It fell with a thud and rolled away. It's freezing in here, Zoey thought as she watched the glass roll.

The mother was on the couch. There was no doubt she was dead. She was sitting upright with her eyes closed. Misshasha squirmed down and ran to her. "Mommy," she said, climbing on the couch next to the body. "I brought help. Mommy?" She pried her mother's eye opened. "Mommy?"

There was another form on the floor. He looked to be about thirty. He was shivering violently, wrapped in a threadbare blanket. Zoey went to him. He was unconscious and pale, his breathing labored. Touching him, he was cool, so cool that Zoey was surprised he was even alive. He must be close to hypothermia.