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An Uncertain Future

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The funeral was a sombre affair. The middle-aged, yet always lively couple killed just hours ago were buried side by side, finally at peace together.

Florence covered her face in her arms to hide the tears that were threatening to spill. An arm wrapped around her shoulder as her grandfather Edgar stepped closer to her, covering them both with an umbrella.

"It could have just as easily been me, grandfather," she said quietly, sniffling back her tears. "Gosh, I didn't think that it would be Mother and Father⸺"

"There was a chance that it would have been us," he said gently. "If that no-good criminal hadn't been caught on time, then who knows what would have happened?"

Florence sucked in a shuddering breath, rocking her body back and forth ⸺ but it couldn't be helped. The sheer anxiety that she felt at that moment was unexplainable.

Edgar pulled her into his side and she turned, tipping her head onto his chest. Wrapping an arm around his granddaughter, he patted her back gently to calm her ragged breathing. Sighing, Florence pulled away from him and looked up to meet his eyes.

"Grandfather, how are you so calm about all of this? You lost your son and daughter-in-law."

"Because I have to be. I have you to protect." His eyes drifted past the young girl to look at his wife, who was out on one side being consoled by their neighbors. "Yes, I lost my son and Lillian, but I'm forever grateful to the Lord that I still have you. Your grandma Elizabeth and I will take good care of you. Like how parents to a daughter would."

Florence nodded gratefully but the tears were still falling. Rubbing at her nose with a handkerchief, she looked up at her grandfather. "Let's go and say goodbye to Mother and Father for the last time."

Making their way through the crowd of people, they approached the headstones of Florence's parents. Letting out a deep breath, Florence stepped out from beneath the umbrella. Crouching down beside the graves, she placed two bunches of roses which she was holding and placed one in front of each gravestone. Rising to her feet, she turned back to her Grandfather only to find him shedding some unwanted tears.

"Grandfather . . ." she muttered quietly, and he blew his nose into a napkin.

"You go on back to your grandmother, Florence. I'll be right with you two in a moment," he said, ushering the girl away without another word. She complied and walked the short distance to where her grandmother was standing, now alone.

Elizabeth, her grandmother, called Florence's name softly before wrapping her arms around her and burrowing her head onto the girl's shoulder. Her shoulders shook slightly and Elizabeth knew that her granddaughter was crying again, and that was enough for her to start doing the same. They stood for a moment, getting drenched by the rain until they were covered once again by an umbrella. Looking into the eyes of her husband, Elizabeth smiled thankfully.

She pulled away from Florence and wiped her tears away with a motion of her hand. She smiled down at the young girl and placed a delicate hand on her back. "Let's go home now, dear."

Florence tried to smile back, but her sadness didn't let her. Instead, she nodded simply.

Edgar glanced at the girl with worry. "Is everything alright?"

"No," she answered truthfully, "But it will be."

***

It had been three months since Florence's parents passed away, and three months since her grandparents had taken it upon themselves to unofficially adopt the young girl. Upon the funeral ceremony being completed, Edgar and Elizabeth Robinson had suggested to Florence that they move to a different province ⸺ explaining how a change of scenery would do the three of them good. Since Florence didn't have much to say regarding the matter, the very next day, the three began packing their luggage and necessities to move to Avonlea in Prince Edward Island.

The three of them had shifted to a small, yet comfortable cottage on the North of town. Edgar found a reliable job as a craftsman and Elizabeth made a few extra dollars by continuing her in-home sewing business. As for Florence ⸺ she liked to spend her time reading, writing, and painting, and when she wasn't doing either of those things ⸺ she would help her grandmother with the housework.

Currently, Florence was returning from her neighbour's house with a cinnamon pie in her hands. Earlier that day, the family got a letter from the Laurence's that a scrumptious pie was waiting for them in thanks for Edgar's great work on a chair that they ordered from his shop.

Approaching the front door of her house, Florence turned the door-handle remembering that she left it unlocked before leaving ⸺ and entered her home.

Slipping off her boots and hanging her hat on a coat hook, she glanced around herself to see her grandmother nowhere around. Shrugging, she assumed that the woman was probably in the living room working on her sewing again. She reached the kitchen and placed the pie onto the kitchen counter, mouth-watering up because she could smell the delicious scent of the desert. She contemplated grabbing a slice right now, but decided against it, telling herself that she would greet her grandmother first.

Florence found her grandmother in the living room as she expected with a sewing machine on the desk across from her. The woman was wearing her round reading glasses and was focused intently on the cloth in front of her.

"I'm home, Grandmother," Florence said and Elizabeth smiled up at the young girl. "And I brought the pie. It's in the kitchen."

"Thank you, dear," Elizabeth said. "How is the weather outside?"

"For one, Winter seems right around the corner," Florence said, sighing at the thought. She took a seat across from her grandmother and stared at the cloth (which oddly resembled a dress her size) with curiosity. "You received a new order?"

"Oh, no, this isn't for a customer," Elizabeth responded. She disregarded the machine for a moment and paid her attention to the young girl who had become much like her own daughter in such a short period of time. "It's for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, for you," Elizabeth confirmed. She slipped off her glasses and placed them on the desk, glancing back at the young girl in front of her with a smile. "You're starting school tomorrow, so I thought that I'd stitch you something new to wear for your first day."

Florence's mouth parted slightly in shock. "School? But why?"

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth questioned. "All girls your age go to school, it's nothing new."

"Yes, but . . . I like being here with you. Who is going to do all the housework?"

Elizabeth stared at her granddaughter dubiously, knowing well just how much ⸺ or perhaps, how little ⸺ housework she actually did. It would be a day for celebration if Florence even voluntarily washed the dishes. Not that Elizabeth really minded, of course. The young girl reminded her much like herself in her youthful days; lazy when it came to housework, but lively whenever she had to do something that she enjoyed.

"I thankfully have two hands that aren't broken, dear." The older woman sighed, reaching out to pat her granddaughter's slumped shoulders. "School will be a great experience, Flo. I promise."

Florence tilted her head back before nodding with defeat. "Fine."

"That's my girl."