#olive capp

It didn't make the loss of Jonah and Dora hurt any less. Hermia would stare into space at the counter, not hearing the greetings of customers because she was trying to recall his reassuring voice instead. "Take your time at the till. Breathe. You've got this." Feeling Dora's hot doggy breath on her legs, Hermia's eyes would crinkle up into happy tears, 'til Tybalt waved in her face and gestured at the forming line that was nearly out the barn doors.

Her brother still had that living-under-a-rock, couldn't-read-a-room energy he'd had since he was the firstborn of the new generation of Capps, silver spooned and what-can-I-do-for-you-Master'd. Marrying Cyd had only mellowed him out enough to roll up his sleeves on the farm and get his hands dirty (grimacing all the way). He'd actually been the one to find Jonah while out on a stroll to survey one of the further fields; he'd called Cyd and the ambulance but there was nothing they could do.

Hermia wondered why Jonah would go so far from the house if he wasn't feeling well. She felt sick at the thought of him curling up in a paddock to protect her. It was the sort of thing she'd expected Dora to do, as she was slowing down and retiring from farm duties. She curled up on the living room floor instead, tended to by Olive the barn cat and Cyd's dog Peanut, so she wasn't alone.

It didn't bear overthinking. Hermia and Autumn just couldn't help it. Their family had been halved; the farm wouldn't feel the same for a long time.

Family members and farm staff agreed that a reward simply must be given to the wee lass for facilitating the safe return of their dear puss. Discussions tabled in the farmhouse kitchen covered the ingenuity of Autumn's strategy - including continual calling across the fields for a familiar voice, and the successful addition of Olive's favourite feather teaser to every patrol, which eventually brought the rather soggy and sad Siamese out from a corner of the barn even the spiders didn't go. Poor wee thing, everyone said, but then they saw Autumn serving fresh water and food (wet and dry), and making a cosy bed by the stoked fire, and knew Olive was in good wee hands.

So in awe of her daughter was Hermia that she didn't even notice how her back was hurting more these days, even when she was sat doing accounts instead of active agriculture. It was her hair that eventually sealed the getting older deal: her trademark marmalade and jelly streaks were sliding away and she had to start working with the grey rather than against it. Ah well - nothing wrong with a new look - different, but still vibrant, still Hermia.

The farm felt like harder work since the fire had faded from his hair, so although Hermia needed a lot of sustainance and rest with the baby due soon, so did Jonah. On the other calloused hand, he didn't want to let his duties slip and let Leod down either. There was always something to do: crops to tend, machinery to repair, and now, a new extension would have to be built on the property to accommodate another family member. He put his stew spoon down - now was not the time to kick back and indulge!

A cat named Olive was adopted to assist with the important duty of being a comforting companion. To everyone's surprise, especially Leod's, the pedigree puss also took rather well to the duty of clearing pests from the barn. Granted, she chose to chase rather than chomp, but it was better than nothing.

Autumn was born just as the farmhouse extension had its bones and was insulated from the elements. It was a new era for the farm - this was the future. Leod thought back to his younger, insulated self. That lad could never have imagined a bubba being born here, much less the one of a farmhand and an heiress! But here she was, with fiery wisps of hair on her head and bright eyes.