The sunlight came out in streams from behind the trees. The air was quiet and a slow haze rose from the wet grass. The brush touched the blue paint and glided across the canvas in scattered stripes overlapping washes of pale yellow. Andrea was painting the morning. She’d listened to the rain the night before and felt inspired, waking early to catch the sun in its race across the new sky. She felt inclined to include the red barn in the distance but decided against it opting instead to add even deeper greens and blacks to create a dense forest.

The house maid came by with Andrea’s pills and a cup of water. She took it promptly, finished the water and let out a deep breath. She took from the table beside her a notepad and wrote out a message for the maid: ‘I will just have a bowl of oatmeal. Thank you.’ Ten minutes later, she returned with the oatmeal and a silver spoon. Andrea nodded to thank her as the maid set about making Andrea’s bed and gather her clothes for washing.

Andrea ate her oatmeal silently staring out into the morning. In the next hour, she would have to descend to the living quarters for piano practice with Ms. Lane and then at noon was lunch with Ma in the courtyard. The rest of the afternoon would be spent studying from her history books and learning to sew a new pattern on the wall tapestry. Andrea didn’t mind sewing but she pricked her fingers often. It hurt when she held paint brushes in the morning. She let out a deep breath again. The air was sweet and fresh and the oatmeal bowl was warm in her hands. She couldn’t wait to finish the painting so she could show Ma. 

Ms. Lane spent most of the time showing Andrea where her hands went wrong. Andrea did her best to keep up with Ms. Lane's long, slender fingers. Every time they touched a key, a beautiful melody resounded through the corridors. Andrea would rather just listen to her play.

At lunch, Ma sat up straight and stared out at the tidy, green lawn. Sometimes she would look at Andrea and clear her throat. It was a signal for Andrea to sit up straighter and to drink her tea a little slower. Andrea loved lunches with Ma but she'd rather sit under an oak tree and eat wild berries that dripped deep red down her chin. But today was particularly sunny so she didn't mind sitting tight and enjoying her little sandwiches cupped between four fingers and a pinky in the air.

Tommy was an old man who tended to Ma's garden. When Ma was done eating, Tommy helped clear the table. And for an hour after lunch, Andrea loved listening to his stories about war and far away countries. Tommy used to carry guns on his back and said he killed at least 60 men in his life.

"Don't tell a soul, Andrea, or you'll never hear another tale from Tommy again." He winked at her in a mischievous way. She would never tell a soul, she couldn't anyway. Her tongue was always tied. But she could smile back and nod her head knowingly.

The rest of the day, Andrea studied about poisonous plants and venomous insects. She particularly liked this study and began to sketch little pictures of what the plants and insects might look like. Then Ma came in with the wall tapestry and she hid the pictures underneath her book. She sat on a couch with Ma next to the fireplace and pricked her fingers with every new stitch. Ma's patterns looked so beautiful and perfect. But Ma never smiled or showed off her patterns.

The house maid came in with evening tea and set it on the table next to the couch. Ma poured Andrea a cup and then she poured herself a cup. They sat together in silent sipping their sweet tea. Andrea loved evening tea with Ma next to the crackling fireplace. But she'd rather hear Ma say something at all.

At sundown, Pa came home from wherever he was. Some nights he came with a gift for Andrea. Tonight, there was no gift. But Pa came into Andrea's room at exactly 8 o'clock and sang her a lullaby that grandma used to sing. This put Andrea to sleep right away. 

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