COUSIN ANNA AND THE NIGHT STORM (Word Count 1957) (standard:drama, 1949 words)
Author: Rosie Jay	Added: Oct 19 2006	Views/Reads: 3477/2511	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A stormy night becomes the catalyst to new understanding and acceptance for two estranged young cousins.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

chicken, baked potatoes and tossed salad, Penny lingered in her private 
little pout.   Her stubborn dismissal of Anna was obvious as she 
remained rudely silent, allowing Mom to picked up the slack, even 
though she looked a bit edgy. 

Finally, Mom stood, checking her watch.  “It’s six-thirty.  Dad’s plane
is arriving in two hours and I have a ways to go.  I’ll need some 
lead-time, so how about if you girls tidy up?” she asked, with a quick 
glare at Penny. 

In moments Penny watched as Mom drove off.  Then, while Anna cleared the
table, she started the dishwasher.  The silence between them was 
terribly uncomfortable as they made awkward efforts to focus on the 
window.  The rain kept coming, cranking up to heavy downpour. 

Finally, Anna spoke first  “I guess we’re stuck together, aren’t we? 
Your feelings are pretty obvious, Penny.  I don’t know why, but you 
don’t like me at all.” 

Penny was shocked by her honesty.  “I do like you, Anna!” she fibbed
again in amazement. 

“Well, what is it then?”  Anna’s voice was cracking, just a tad.  “I
thought it might be different this year, but I guess I was wrong.  
Don’t worry, though.  I’ll find some excuse to go home early.” 

Penny was bowled over!  Never, ever, did she expect that from Anna!  She
dug deep for response, but what could she say?  She’d made it pretty 
obvious, had she not, about how she felt? 

To deflect such utter tension, Anna glanced at the window.  The rain was
pounding now, hammering.  “You can’t see two feet in front of you out 
there,” she observed.” 

Penny drew her stunned face to the window as well, relieved to change
the subject.  “Gosh, I wish I hadn’t forgotten to listen for that 
weather report...not to mention the cell phone thing, you know?” 

“I don’t think it mattered,” Anna flatly commented.  “Your mom was going
anyway.” 

How different Anna was this year.  In the speed of light Penny realized
that she hadn’t really been fair—to put it mildly!  “I’m sorry if I 
made you feel...well, not welcome,” she confessed, deservingly 
embarrassed.  “Truly, I am.  Can we start over?” 

Before Anna could respond, the ceiling light flickered—and, suddenly,
totally gone.  Drenched leaves now thrashed against the window as the 
howling wind rose to full crescendo.  They were in complete darkness 
now—a blackout—and no telling for how long.  Penny shivered slightly, 
remembering.  Last year’s blackout lasted two whole days. 

But her conscience weighed heavier.  At last ashamed of her unbelievably
selfish behavior that day...well, if she could only wish it all away.  
Then there was Mom, out on the road in the storm.  If she hadn’t been 
in such a snit, she might have been more responsible.  Mom would have 
been warned, at least, and have her newly charged cell phone safely 
tucked in her purse if she needed it.  But, thanks to her, that didn’t 
happen and Mom was out there—alone—possibly in danger, with no way to 
call anyone for help.  It seemed the only light bulb working now was 
the one that lit up her brain. 

“There are lots of places for your mom to get off the main road and park
until the storm passes—probably with lots of other stranded motorists 
for company,” Anna assured, surmising her thoughts.  “Also, state 
troopers, don’t forget, are usually out in droves on a night like 
this.” 

A hopeful remark, comforting indeed, to which Penny replied, “Really,
Anna, you might not believe me, but I’m really glad you’re here with 
me.” She made the first gesture, groping in the darkness to find Anna 
and give her a hug—her soapy hands saturating Anna’s yellow checked 
blouse. 

“Hey, there’s enough water out there,” Anna quipped, obviously accepting
the apology.  “I’d like to stay dry while we’re inside, don’t you 
think?” 

For the first time they joined in laughter.  How grateful Penny now was
for Anna’s supportive presence, marooned as they were with the angry, 
driving deluge outside.  With no power, there was no way to learn about 
anything, except for a small transistor radio in the hall closet.  But 
even that didn’t help because, in the pitch-black, they couldn’t find 
the flashlight or the batteries it needed.  Only an occasional bolt of 
lighting lit the eerie darkness as Anna tried to quell Penny’s guilt 
ridden concerns, even though there was nothing they could do. 

What they could do, though, was talk—really talk—to each other.  As the
wind howled and the torrential rain gushed in buckets, Penny insisted 
that Anna begin first.  Oh, the things she learned about her farm girl 
cousin! 

Anna depicted her life in rural Indiana, describing in fine detail the
farm, in her dad’s family now for five generations.  It was indeed a 
busy life, with cows to milk, chicken coops to be tended, the gathering 
eggs, collecting harvest—and even the baling of hay.  This time around 
Penny actually found it interesting, but what surprised her most was 
that Anna had a horse, a real horse, named Monarch.  Every day she 
rode, hoping to soon enter equestrian competition.  How neat was that! 

Penny, in turn, talked about her school, her friends, cheerleading, the
soccer she so loved, even her record collection.  She was pleasantly 
surprised to learn that Anna did know what’s hot and what’s not in on 
the music scene, as well as in the movies.  She simply wasn’t that 
interested in it, that’s all.  But so what! 

The kitchen clock barely showed ten-thirty by the candle they eventually
found in the back of a kitchen drawer, now placed safely in a bowl on 
the stove.   They had talked a long while—but now, Penny’s anxiety 
returned. 

“I can’t believe they’re not home yet,” she nervously said. 

“There’s not much we can do but wait,” Anna replied, “Maybe we should
just go to bed.   I mean, the storm is bound to let up soon, and if we 
fall asleep, maybe you won’t worry so much.” 

As the lightening and lit candle aided them to the bedroom, Penny had a
thought.  “You seem so grown up, Anna.  How can you be so calm on a 
night like this?” 

“Oh, I’m not always,” Anna replied.  “But when you live on a farm, you
learn to be calm, because everything depends on the weather.” 

A while later, still in the dark, they climbed into bed.  Anna nodded
off first while Penny wrestled yet again with her conscience about how 
she had messed up that day, and how, with Anna’s help, she got through. 
Then, after some unspoken prayers, she nodded off as well, exhausted. 

But by morning, how everything had changed as Penny observed the
sunshine now peering through the blind slats!  There was conversation 
in the kitchen and the aroma of brewing coffee wafting through the air! 


“Anna, they’re home!” she squealed, leaping out of bed. 

They were up in a flash, Anna clopping behind as Penny raced ahead. 
There, standing at the kitchen sink were Mom and Dad, safe and sound. 

“I’ll bet I can tell what you two were doing when the lights went out
last night,” Dad quipped.  He was putting away last night’s dishes. 

Mom, however, told the tale.  “Oh, girls!  You must have had quite a
time!   The plane was late arriving, then on landing hold a few minutes 
more.  When we finally started for home, an uprooted tree was blocking 
the Little Brook Bridge, so we had to detour.  You were asleep when we 
got home just before midnight, and we didn’t have the heart to wake 
you.”  After a moment, she added, “Oh, the lights came on around that 
time.  We hope you weren’t worried too much.” 

Penny smiled.  “Nah, a piece of cake,” she joked, winking at Anna. 

How warm and relaxed they appeared, a far cry from yesterday—and Mom
noticed. “I think, in spite of the weather, something wonderful 
happened here last night.  Would I be correct in assuming that?” she 
asked. 

“Yep, you would be correct,” Penny replied. 

In a strange and peculiar way, the terrible night storm turned out to be
a blessing.  And, if Anna didn’t still want an excuse to go home early, 
they’d have two fine weeks to spend together. 


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