The Crack in the Afternoon

How it begins

Hazel Fern noticed the crack in the afternoon because tomorrow's birds were singing through it. She knew they were tomorrow's birds because today's had already gone home for tea.

The crack hung above her orchard, thin and golden, between the pear tree and the washing line. Every few moments, a note slipped out. Then a warm breeze. Then a raindrop traveling upward.

Hazel fetched a ladder.

Tobin Moss arrived before she climbed it. The old turtle kept the village clocks and disliked ladders that appeared during time problems.

'How long has it been there?'

'Since a little before now.'

He nodded. That was the most accurate answer she could give.

From inside the crack came a small rumble. A cloud no bigger than a cabbage squeezed through, shook itself and hid behind Hazel's watering can.

Tobin opened his tool case. 'That belongs tomorrow.'

The cloud trembled. Rain pattered onto the grass.

Hazel put down the ladder. 'It looks frightened.'

'It is probably meant to be a storm.'

'It can be both.'

The cloud peeped around the watering can. It had two gray eyes and a mouth shaped like the beginning of thunder.

'I don't know how,' it whispered.

A pear fell from the tree. The cloud jumped. One tiny lightning spark landed in Hazel's empty bucket, making it ring like a bell.

Tobin checked his pocket watch. Its hands pointed toward the crack. If they mended it now, the little storm would be left in the wrong afternoon. If they waited, more of tomorrow might arrive before anyone had made room.

Hazel turned the bucket over to make a seat.

'Would you like to practice?' she asked.

The cloud looked at the orchard, the turtle and the shining tear in the sky.

'Only a small storm.'

Tobin closed his watch. 'We can begin,' he said, 'with weather that fits in a watering can.'