Between The Folds

This homecoming would not be easy. How could it, with a sister so ill and a family she hadn’t seen for 10 years?

- Suzanne Ahern

There was a point on the horizon, precisely where the distant bluey-grey of the sea merged with the sky, that the view turned from an ocean into a hazy, rippling cornfield. It took some imagination. And half-closed eyes. And a fading sunset. But it was there, if you looked hard enough. That was the strange thing about Block Island. It was 300 miles away from home but, at certain times and in certain ways, it was just like Amish country to her. How ironic. She had turned her back on everything and yet sought out a place that really wasn’t so different.

Zillah leant forward and wrapped the blanket around her feet. She had to squint now to see the cornfields, with the sun gone and fingers of dusk folding themselves around the verandah. The summer was slipping away fast. Just 20 minutes more at most and it would be too dark to see anything. Noah had told her time and time again to use the outside lights, he didn’t mind the bit of extra cost, but she had never felt comfortable with it. It wasn’t just the money. It was a waste, illuminating the black sky just for her sake. And besides, the purple darkness of night-time brought peace to her. And familiarity. Safety. Sitting alone in the obscurity of nightfall felt more like home than anything else. He didn’t understand. But then why should he? He hadn’t been raised Amish. He’d grown up with electricity at the flick of a switch.