There was no stopping her, no reasoning, the clothes had to be washed and hung, baths taken, all before she could quit for the day.
Everyone sat, a pallor on their faces, avoiding the eyes of the others.
Not Hanna, she had scrubbed the floor with a will, beaten the rugs, swept the back porch and was now doing the washing. There was a glint in her unfocused eyes, she blinked, she must focus on the washing.
They couldn't understand her obsession, no one felt up to anything just then.
Minutes ticked away in a slow procession, each one holding up the others, until Ginny May ran through, irreverent. They tried to stop her, Minerva and Uncle Wes, but she was too quick to be caught.
'Charlie, out in the back, was digging up flowers, he had to be stopped or she was gonna hav to take grief again bout bringing home a stray. Oh lordie how she hated to hear them.'
Ginny May was a flash of sunshine, the others looked at each other when she had passed. But Hanna, she kept on working, Jim would need his shirt pressed.
Out the window, she could see Ginny, as she turned each shovel full of dirt. Hanna burned the shirt as she watched each spade full of dirt, filling the hole.