This is a reimagined version of the classic tale The Bridge To Terabithia. This Fanfiction is a part of my NaNoWriMo 2025 or the 30 Day Novel Writing November Exercise.
LAVENDER DUSK AT ROSÉMONTE GREENE
The blustery November air brimmed with the scent of hay and earth as Leonie stepped out of her cozy cottage the day after Thanksgiving. The pastures and countryside were buzzing with the soft rumble of engines, chirping birds, and—closer, a gentle moo. Leonie followed the sound across the dewy grass toward the Aarons' pasture, Miss Bessie and her calf, Moo Babe now 6 months old were grazing peacefully. It had been a while since she had visited the handsome lad.
As she approached the fence, May Belle was already there, tossing hay to the eager cows. The girl’s breath puffed in the cold, her eyes fixed on the animals with a mix of ownership and wariness. Moo Babe, sensing Leonie, trotted over, his big brown eyes shining with enthusiasm, and before Leonie could blink, the calf nudged her outstretched hand, licking her palm with a sloppy tongue.
Leonie laughed with a surprised delight, "Oh, hello there, Moo Babe! You remember! " The calf bleated, nipping playfully at her jacket, and May Belle’s gaze snapped up, her expression darkening like a cloud. "She doesn’t usually do that," May Belle said, her voice a low mutter, as if Leonie had somehow tricked the calf.
Leonie smiled, unfazed, scratching Moo Babe’s ears.The calf leaned into the touch, and May Belle huffed, tugging the hay bale closer, her cheeks flushing with annoyance.
"Can I feed her?"
May Belle grudgingly handed Leonie a tuft of hay. As Leonie held it out, Moo Babe munched delicately, her big eyes adoring, and May Belle rolled hers, mumbling, "Guess you’re a cow whisperer or something."
Leonie chuckled, "I think it’s Moo Babe’s charm." The calf nipped at Leonie’s scarf, and May Belle reluctantly looked away.
The next morning, the fields lay hushed under a blanket of frost, the only sound the distant rustle of leaves and the eager moo of Moo Babe in the Aarons' pasture. Leonie, wrapped in a wool coat, her breath fogging the air, walked across the dewy grass toward the fence where May Belle stood, arms crossed, watching the cows with a guarded gaze.
As Leonie approached, Moo Babe, the rump-first calf, suddenly lurched forward, her gangly legs awkward, heading straight for Leonie. The calf nudged Leonie's outstretched hand, licking her palm with a sloppy tongue. Leonie laughed, a surprised delight, "Oh, hello there, Moo Babe!"
May Belle's eyes narrowed, her face a mask of displeasure. She yanked a floppy handful of hay from the bale, thrusting it at Leonie with a little too much force. "Here. If you want to feed her."
Leonie took the hay, her smile cautious, and Moo Babe crunched it eagerly, nudging Leonie's sleeve with a damp nose. May Belle scrolled through her phone, her jaw tight, as if tuning out the whole scene. The air thickened with tension.
"She's adorable," Leonie tried, scratching Moo Babe's ears. The calf leaned in, nearly knocking Leonie over, and May Belle snorted, a sharp sound.
"Careful, she doesn't know you."
Leonie's smile faltered for a beat, but she kept going, gentle. "I grew up around animals. She's a sweetheart."
May Belle shot her a skeptical look, eyes lingering on Leonie's face before flicking away. "Yeah. She doesn't usually do this."
Moo Babe, sensing the tension, paused mid-munch, her big eyes swiveling between the girls. She bleated, nipping playfully at Leonie's scarf, and May Belle's gaze frosted over. "Stop it, Moo Babe." The words were clipped, a little mean.
Leonie's hand hesitated, then she knelt, letting the calf nudge her, a soft counter to May Belle's sharpness. "It's okay, girl." Moo Babe licked Leonie's cheek, and for a flash, May Belle looked away, her expression twisting—hurt, anger, something unspoken.
The scene played out in stretched silence: the low sun casting long shadows, the cows grazing in the background, Leonie’s calm warmth against May Belle’s rigid cold. The air vibrated with unspoken words.
Finally, May Belle spun on her heel. "I need to get chores done." And she walked away, leaving Leonie with Moo Babe’s affection, feeling like she'd just navigated a small storm.
The awkwardness lingered like the rime on the grass as Leonie watched May Belle stomp off toward the barn, Moo Babe's curious bleats fading into the distance. The calf nudged Leonie again, as if sensing the sudden chill, and she smiled softly, scratching behind its ears.
"Guess it's just you and me, Moo Babe," she whispered, the words swallowed by the crisp air. She offered the last of the hay, and the calf munched contentedly, her big brown eyes gazing up with an uncomplicated adoration that made Leonie chuckle.
For a moment, she let herself get lost in the quiet of the pasture—the way the sun painted the hills gold, the earthy smell of hay, the distant creak of a tree branch. But her mind kept drifting back to May Belle's sharpness. What was it about her that sparked such defensiveness?
Leonie sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair under her hat. Maybe it was the Rabbit Soup incident at the Town Bake Sale Fair after all, the memory still a little raw. Or maybe May Belle was just one of those people who needed time, a fence to climb over slowly.
As she turned to head back to her cottage, Moo Babe let out a plaintive moo, like a protest against the thinning attention. Leonie grinned, pulling out her camera to snap a quick photo of the calf, the pasture stretching out behind her.
"Tell you what, cutie. I'll bring you treats next time, okay?"
Back in her cozy kitchen, Leonie brewed a cup of hot cocoa, the steam curling up with the scent of cinnamon. She pulled out her notebook and jotted down a plan—carrot treats for Moo Babe, and a small peace offering for May Belle: a jar of homemade lavender honey.
***
The next morning, the doorbell rang as she was chopping and mincing the carrots. A glance out the window showed Jesse, grinning, bundled in a plaid shirt. "Hey! Want to walk the woods with me? The woods are insane today."
Leonie smiled, setting aside the board and bowl."Sure. Let me grab my coat."
As they headed into the woods, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the woods’ perfume blanketed them. Jesse talked about the farm, his passion for fixing old tractors, and Leonie let herself relax into the rhythm of it all. No tension, no expectations—just the friendly quiet of a fall season.
But when they looped back toward the pasture, May Belle was there again, tossing feed to the chickens, and the air instantly shifted. This time, May Belle didn't just look hostile—she looked cornered. Her gaze flicked to Leonie, then away, and she muttered something under her breath before walking faster and disappearing behind the coop.
Jesse slowed, his eyes following his sister. "Sorry about May Belle," he said quietly. "She's... adjusting."
Leonie offered a small smile. "I think Moo Babe likes me more."
Jesse chuckled, nudging her with an elbow. "Yeah, Moo Babe has good taste."
They stood there a moment, the woods quiet around them, the heart of it a thrumming harbinger.
***
As the sun dipped behind the hills, Leonie walked back to her cottage, the woods growing purple and still. Moo Babe's gentle licks lingered on her palm, a small warmth against the chill. May Belle's walls remained a mystery, but the air held a hint of thaw.
With a soft smile, Leonie slipped inside, the scent of lavender honey and spiced cider wrapping around her. She set the jar on the counter, a peace offering waiting.
Outside, the pasture grew quiet, the stars beginning to blink. For now, the night would hold its breath.
The lavender dusk crept over Rosemonte Greene like a soft, wistful sigh, its tender hues painting the sky in shades of amethyst and rose. The trees aspens silhouetted against the fading light, their leaves withering against each other.
While the air grew fragrant with night-blooming flowers, in this twilight hour, the old cottage seemed to slumber, its windows glowing with a gentle warmth, as if the very spirit of the place was welcoming the quiet magic of the evening.
As the stars began to twinkle like diamonds scattered across the velvet sky, Leonie stepped out onto the worn stone porch of Rosemonte Greene, a soft breeze rustling the curls that escaped her messy bun.
The cottage, with its ivy-clad walls and cedar-scented air, seemed to wrap itself around her like a comforting shawl. She felt the weight of memories here—laughter and tears, the jolly spring spent taking care of Patches and summers curled up with a book by the window.
Leonie's fingers absently traced the petals of a late-blooming rose on the porch railing. As the darkness pooled in the hollows of the garden, she took a deep breath, feeling the peace of the evening settle around her. The air was crinkling with the chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves, a soothing serenade that seemed to wash away the worries of the day.
With a soft smile, she stepped back inside, the creak of the door a familiar welcome, and began to light the candles one by one, casting a warm, golden glow over the cozy interior. The fire crackled to life in the hearth, and Leonie felt a sense of contentment wash over her – it was home at Rosemonte Greene.
The moon, now a silver crescent, cast a dreamy light through the windows as she climbed to bed.
In her small, orange blossom-scented room, Leonie slipped into the softest of nightgowns and slid between the downy quilts, the mattress whispering a familiar sigh. As her head hit the pillow, the garden's nocturnal whispers took over—the rustle of leaves, a distant hoot—and she drifted into a sleep filled with the scent of roses and old wood.
https://www.theblogchatter.com/blogrolls/chapter-20-bridging-memoriesterabithia-reclaimed
To Be Continued....
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