The Hope of Hattie Phelan: Volume I

5

Cousins

Last night, I fell asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow. I had never felt such a soft bed in my entire life, or at least as far as I could remember. Compared to the cot I had slept on for the past three years, this was like night and day. I must have been so comfortable in my sleep that I missed the rooster crow.

The light hit my eyelids, awakening me from slumber. Blinking a few times, I yawned as I sat up to rub my eyes. The sun was high in the sky, looking like it was mid-to-late morning. I jumped out of bed, careful not to wake Constance beside me, before rushing to grab Nancy's dress, which my aunt had set out for me. I quickly threw it on, along with my pair of socks and shoes, rushing downstairs as I smelled something cooking. I quickly braided my hair before entering the dining room.

Aunt Margarette was already sitting at the table, sipping at some coffee while reading a large book. She looked up, taking off her glasses, to smile at me. I glanced into the kitchen from the doorway to see that there were used plates sitting by the sink. They must've already eaten their breakfast. I looked at the clock in the corner to see it was almost ten. I had never slept in till ten. My eyes widened as my face flushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry I slept in," I said, entering the kitchen to start washing the dishes. I had to help somehow, for I had slept away a large chunk of the day.

"It's no problem, Hattie," I heard my aunt say before she walked into the kitchen. "There's no need to wash the dishes until you and Constance eat your breakfast."

I set the dish back down, before watching as Aunt Margarette pulled a lid off of a pan of bacon and eggs. She must've kept them warm that way. Aunt Margarette handed me a plate with the food, before finishing it with a piece of toast.

"Thank you," I said, walking into the dining room. There was already a fork and knife at the table, along with a cup of water. Sitting down, I stared at the plate in front of me, mouth watering as the aroma wafted to my nose.

"Do you want coffee?" my aunt asked from the kitchen.

"A little, please," I said, cutting up my egg to reveal a bright orange, runny yolk. I'd never seen it so bright before. I took a bite, amazed at the flavor. "How's it so salty?"

"Cooked it in bacon grease," Aunt Margarette answered as she entered the room with a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. "I hope you like a little cream and sugar. I added a bit just in case, so let me know your preference for next time."

Next time, I repeated in my head. A foreign feeling washed over me as I realized that there was security that I would be eating as heartily tomorrow as I was today.

"I usually have it black—never had it with cream before," I stated, quickly finishing off my eggs, though the runny yolk was all over the plate. I sipped the coffee to be surprised at its rich flavor, since I was expecting it to be bitter. Either the cream added the richness, or I had never tasted good coffee before—maybe it was a mix of both.

"I take it you slept well?" Aunt Margarette asked, looking up from her book for a moment. I flushed at the thought of oversleeping.

"I did." I nodded, fidgeting under the following silence. "Never felt more rested before in my life."

"I'm very glad to hear that." Aunt Margarette smiled, as I finished off my bacon. "Try dipping the bread in the yolk."

I ripped a piece of the bread off, wiping up some of the yolk before taking a bite. That's mighty good. Aunt Margarette was a fine cook, which I could tell from just a couple meals that she made. I knew Constance was a good cook, and I tried my best, but something about Aunt Margarette's cooking was so home-like, though I couldn't place my finger on what it was.