Prolog
Free the Winds
“Brianna!” The voice was pitched to carry long distances and bring the errant racing home in fear of dire punishment. Brianna merely looked up from her book, shrugged, then returned to her Greek Heroes. It would be another ten minutes before Meg, her stepmother, grew really upset and she would have to go. Not that Brianna made a habit of ducking chores for personal time; however, Meg could be so inconsiderate. Bri wished that just once she could return Meg’s actions without being yelled at for it. It was not any good going to any of the boys; they had their own problems with Meg. Bri secretly thought that the only reason Meg married their father was to get at the boys.
The boys, of course, were her four brothers, three older, one younger. Scott was the oldest and was almost finished with vet school; but he did not care much for what Brianna did unless it was with the animals. Carl was so much like their father as to be him, with his solid brown hair, eyes, and frame, Bri often thought he could withstand the wind itself. Then there was Derek, he was the one who looked after his baby sister. He looked like their mother, with soft blond hair and blue eyes. If it were not for Derek, Brianna might have run away and lived with her aunt. Finally was the baby of the family, Bruce. He was always getting into the mischief Bri was blamed for. Meg seemed to think that Brianna could control her younger brother and Bri had stopped trying to convince her of the truth. When it came to Bruce, the only one who could control him was Bruce.
“Brianna Larie Adams, if you don’t get in here right this minute, I’m...” Meg stood on the back porch steps and called out to the barn. Her bottled blond hair looked unusually drab with the bright yellow blouse she was wearing. From her perch above the porch, Bri wondered if maybe her stepmother was color blind, or just liked making everyone sick with her color combinations.
The house was three stories and built of aged brick. Ivy grew up the sides of the house and climbing roses twined with the brilliant green leaves of the ancient vines. The windows had been freed from the sun blocking foliage and edged in pristine white paint. Trellises with columbine, honeysuckle, bleeding hearts, and morning glory created a sweet smelling privacy wall around the back porch. Above the trellises were the bay windows of Brianna’s room and her favorite place to curl up and read.
“What do you want, Meg? I’m right here, you don’t have to shout.” Bri yawned, setting her book down. She knew Meg wanted to be called mom, but Brianna would not give her the satisfaction. Hiding the smile at Meg’s startled jump, Bri pulled her head back in her bedroom window and walked down to the kitchen.
Meg was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs with a scowl to freeze fire on her face. Bri ignored her silent outrage.
“If you were in the house the whole time, why didn’t you answer me the first time I called? And will you please remember to call me Mom, or do I have to talk to your Father about it?” Meg loomed over Brianna and wondered why her stepdaughter constantly disobeyed her.
Without looking up from sink full of dirty dishes, Bri shrugged, “I felt that my History homework took priority over a few dishes. I have a test tomorrow over the pre-world war one industrial boom. Where are you and Dad going tonight? Dancing again?”
Meg glared at the unresponsive back of the girl and knew there was nothing she could do about it. If she complained to Mark, he would just tell her that Brianna’s studies were more important than the dishes. And she could not prove that Bri was doing anything but what she said she was. Why couldn’t the girl move into campus housing and let Meg have the extra room? She would be very glad when the girl married and left Mark and the boys permanently.
“Yes, your father and I are going dancing again. Not that it is any of your business. I need you to have the kitchen cleaned when we get home. Oh, if you get time, there is laundry you can put in the dryer and then put away. And don’t forget you promised clean the window blinds before Friday’s dinner party.”
Brianna rolled her eyes and bit her tongue. When Meg was in one of those moods it was better to not say anything and wish her out of the house with all possible haste.
Meg watched a minute longer as Bri filled the sink with hot soapy water and began to scrub the glasses and silverware. Knowing that Bri would continue to do things the way her own mother taught her, Meg grit her teeth against remarking on the order in which Bri did the dishes. Why did her stepdaughter always have to be so contrary? Would the girl ever consider her as more than an intruder? With a sigh, Meg left the house and went to meet her husband, Mark, at the barn.
Finally rid of the witch, Brianna smiled to herself and began humming a tune. Bri knew Meg resented her presence in the house. What Meg did not know was that the house belonged to Brianna. The house first belonged to her mother and through her will; it was to be her only daughter’s. That was why her father would not let Meg change anything without first checking with Bri, which made Meg even angrier. However, Bri did not care, when she turned twenty-five, Meg would either have to stop acting like the queen of the roost or move out.
The house that had belonged to Brandy Carlisle Adams had been passed down from mother to daughter for as long as there had been white people in this part of the United States. The farm had five hundred acres of rich soil that was the envy of nearby neighbors, which also came through the maternal line, unbroken since the original land grant in the early 1800’s. When Brandy’s ancestors settled the land, they had the bricks shipped from Scotland and an ancestral home belonging to the matriarch of that age.
When Brandy fell ill, she had spent hours speaking with her husband about what to do and it was decided to continue with the tradition of deeding the land and house to the daughter of the house. But because there were four sons and a husband to provide for, Brandy made it so that her daughter would only get half of the land until her father and brothers no longer needed a place to live and gain a livelihood. Then it would all go to the daughter to continue down the unbroken chain.
The farm belonged to Mark Adams, at least half of it did. Brianna owned the other half, another fact Meg did not know. Smiling over the picture her mother’s face always made in her mind, Brianna remembered a day just before her mother died and all five of the children were called into their parent’s bedroom. Brandy looked thin and old, even though she was only thirty-two, to her children, she looked heavenly.
She called her sons and daughter around her and told them each she loved them. As she touched each child in turn, she whispered something over each of them that was too soft to be heard. She had then told them to take care of each other and to protect each other. Brandy left it to Mark to know when to tell them of how the house and land would be settled in the future.
The month before Mark married Meg he finally told his children as far as he was concerned the house and land already belonged to his daughter. He explained he held it in trust for her and as long as any of them lived, they would be welcome there to use the land and house as needed. Brianna, in her turn had let her family know as far as she was concerned as long as any of them lived, they would always have a home in this house.
Mark Adams had loved his first wife more than life itself. When they first met, his family had just moved to the small farming and university town from a larger city. His father had been a professor of business management and had transferred from the larger university to the smaller one because of health reasons. Mark had not wanted to move as he only had one more year of high school and he resented coming to the small town.
Brandy Carlisle was the sophomore class president when Mark Adams moved into the same high school. She took to his quiet intelligence and wry humor and made it her special assignment to win him over to small town living. She signed him up for dance committees without him knowing it and then went out of her way to make sure he participated.
After a few months of the concentrated effort, Mark finally gave in to the blond, blue-eyed girl who would not let him vanish into the woodwork. He soon discovered that he missed the big city less and less as he grew closer and closer to Brandy. By the time he graduated, it was firmly in the minds of everyone in town that Brandy Carlisle and Mark Adams would make the perfect couple.
They married the year after Brandy graduated high school and moved into the house that Brandy had inherited from her mother, the same one that Brianna would inherit in her turn. Every day had been as wonderful as they could make it and when Brandy turned ill and then died, part of Mark had died as well.
The door slammed shut behind Brianna, jarring the stories of her mother from her mind and she turned to glare at Bruce and Carl. “Has Meg left?” Bruce asked, picking an apple out of the fruit basket. “She gives me the creeps. What does she have you doing tonight, Bri?”
The kitchen was a bright room in buttercup yellow and cream white. Different herbs had been stenciled on the walls in wreath patterns in the shades they grew in nature. The cupboards were all faced with glass etched with roses and buttercups. Brandy had even left her daughter a complete set of fine china with a hand painted pattern of blue forget-me-nots, pink rose buds, and yellow buttercups. The table in the kitchen was round and the chairs had embroidered padded seats in the same herbal design as the stencils on the walls.
Shaking her head at her brothers, Brianna kept busy with the dishes. Her soft brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that hung to her hips. She wore the common young adult uniform of blue jeans and baggy shirt.
“Bri, out with it; we all heard the banshee shrieking at you earlier. Believe it or not, we don’t like her anymore than you do. Especially after she hit on Scott,” Carl said, standing next to his sister and helping her with the work.
“I never could figure out what that bitch thought she was doing when she did that?” Scott said, coming in with Derek, and tiredly falling into a chair. “I only wonder what Dad sees in her in the first place. She’s only a year older than I am and she acts like a jealous fifteen year old. What do we have to eat?”
Brianna smiled at her brothers and gave up her place at the sink to fix them a late dinner. Meg did not care whether anyone but herself and Mark ate, just as long as the kitchen was spotless. When the five of them sat down to a stew and fresh bread, Derek again asked what chores Brianna had to do.
“I have to finish Meg’s laundry and clean the blinds for her dinner party. I haven’t told her yet that I won’t be here to serve it for her. I have a date with Thamas.” Bri chewed a bite of potato thoughtfully as she thought about her handsome art partner.
Scott looked over his glass rim at his sister and lifted an eyebrow. “Thamas? Mind if I ask who he might be?”
“He isn’t that oily quarter back is he?” Derek demanded, glaring at his sister. Brianna laughed and firmly told him no. “Alright, baby sister, who is this Thamas fellow? Thamas, what kind of name is Thamas?”
“Thamas is from England and he’s my art partner. He’s very nice, if a little bit weird. At least he doesn’t mind that I trip going up stairs or dump notebooks all over the ground when I’m in a rush. I think you’d all like him,” Brianna said as she thought about her new friend. A tiny crease formed above her nose as her eyebrows drew together. “Except, there is one thing about him I don’t fully trust. He is hiding something from me, like Meg does. I don’t think I’m going to like him once I know what that secret is. But for now, he’s an excuse to not be here on Friday.”
A hand fell on her shoulder and Bri looked into her brother’s steady brown eyes. “Bri, I’ve always trusted your judgment, but be careful, especially if you’re feeling this about him. If he gives you any problems, we’ll all help you take care of him.” with that Carl went up to his room and started work on his shortwave radio equipment. Bri smiled at her solid brother and, for him, his sentimental display.
With a sigh, she turned and found Scott and Bruce finishing the dishes and Derek sweeping the floor. Knowing they did not want to be thanked for their help, Bri quietly left the room and finished the laundry and blinds. When her work was done, she went back to her Greek Heroes and lost herself the story of Adonis.
