Creating a short story #7

Back in the cabin, Mary was pacing the floor, crossing from the doorway over to the bedrooms and back again. Sometimes she sat at the table and began to shell peas all over again. Sometimes she would find herself staring out the window toward the lake. It just cannot be. It is. Sarah has not left. Why does she visit me? I never even met her. These and innumerable other questions ran through her head. She had left the boat and Saul rocking slightly in the water with her quick dash back to the cabin. She had simply said, “I need to tend the fire in the oven before the coals cool too much…” without waiting for a response. Surely, Saul could forgive her. She hoped she had put the book back in the cabinet where she found it, was confident she did, reasoning that Saul would have chased after her to understand why the pictures might have upset her.

     “This is enough worry,” she stated out loud. “I need to talk to him. He has to know what has happened.” With that she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and headed to the barn. Once Duke was saddled she paused just before mounting the horse, not sure where to go to find Mr. Miller.

“What do you think, old boy? Where do you think he’s working?” As a response, Duke shook his mane and turned to the right, toward the lower field and cow pasture. “Good. We’ll go that way.” With a quick double-clicking of her tongue and two heels gently tapping his sides, they headed off.

***

     Matthew tried very hard to avoid the fence line all summer. He had repaired what he could on the planter. He had walked through the corn field looking for worms in the ears. He had chased cows out of the woods and away from coyotes. He argued with himself each time that he had always done these things. A farm is in constant need of supervision. One lazy day could result in the loss of his crop or danger for the animals. Every day, he needed to be busy.

It was time to go back, however, and make sure the fence posts were holding themselves upright. He arrived in late afternoon, as the cherry tree’s shadow reached over and darkened the grass and posts he needed to inspect. After a few minutes of pushing and pulling each one with all the energy he could muster, satisfied they were sturdy, he sat at the base of the tree, careful not to lean against it. When he was almost breathing normally again he heard the familiar trot of an approaching horse and stood to get a look at who was coming.

     “Mary? Is something wrong?” Since she had only gone out to find him that once, when he saw…, and left him to his business after that.

     “Yes, Mr. Miller, something is wrong.” She spoke with an irritation he had never heard from her while still seated in the saddle. “I need to tell you something very important and I need you to listen. Could you do that for me?”

“Yes, Mary. Please get down and I promise to listen.” She dismounted quickly, sending her skirts twirling about her ankles and landing with both feet. Duke stood still as she started to walk away, lowering his head to nibble on the grass at the edge of the trail.

     Planting her feet and looking Matthew squarely in the eye she started, “I know I’m a stranger here, new to the town and new to you. I haven’t tried to pry into your past and stir up painful memories. I know it’s not my place. I wish I could have kept out of it, but I cannot be silent any more.”    

     “Silent about what? Mary, what are you talking about?” he questioned, his confusion causing him to break his promise already.

     “Please, Mr. Miller, listen. I need to tell you what happened today. Then I can tell you about the other incidents. Please, let me get it all out before you say anything else.” He nodded, removed his hat as he walked toward the shade and indicated to Mary to join him. They both sat facing Duke, watching him shake his skin to disturb the flies that landed there. “Today I decided to take a loaf of bread to Saul. I had never visited the lake and I wanted to see what it was like on such a beautiful day. We fished for a little while and talked about the dog. Saul went to wake him up so I could see him. While he was gone my line tangled in the weeds. When I looked into the water I saw something there besides plants or fish. I saw a person. I saw a woman, with blond hair. She whispered to me that this is her place. I felt I needed to reach into the water and I felt her grab my hand. Ever since then I have felt my skin crawl and my heart beating too quickly. I was going to get a cup to have some water in Saul’s boat, but I found a picture album. It has your wedding picture in it. The woman’s face in the water was Sarah.” Mary stopped talking then, needing to catch her breath. Matthew stood up quickly and moved straight ahead a few steps. He turned just as suddenly and looked down at her, mouth open for a second before shutting it again. He turned back toward Duke and walked away again.

     “How…?” was all he could manage.

    “I know this is hard to hear. It is hard to say. But, there is more to it. Please, I need you to come back. Won’t you sit down?” Mary’s eyes pleaded with him, following him as he moved in all directions to avoid looking at her. “Matthew,” she said, trying his first name, “please, come and sit again.” Her voice returned to the gentle and familiar tone she usually spoke with, reassuring and calming him. Slowly he returned to his former seat next to her.

     “The first time I saw her was one of the first days I was here. I saw a woman’s face in the kitchen window. I thought someone was outside looking in, someone you knew who had come to call, but as soon as I moved closer it disappeared. It was nearly dark, so I thought I’d scared her off. Another time was near the barn when the dog arrived, but she looked different then and I thought she might have owned the dog. She stood just behind the barn and then stepped out toward the house like she was scared. She seemed to stare at me and the cabin. Before I could tell Saul she was gone again, and again I thought one of us scared her. This time, today, it all made sense. I know I don’t know what happened or why, but I do know she hasn’t left. She needs something, Matthew, and I’m afraid if she doesn’t get it she’s going to get angry with me.”

    “No, no you don’t know anything. Sarah is gone. She died and she left me. That’s what happened.” He stood again and glared down at her, pinching his eyebrows together, clenching his teeth tighter with every word. “You don’t know anything and you don’t need to!”

    Mary stood up, returning the steely glare. “That’s right! I don’t need to know. But you do. Do you understand? You need to find out why. I don’t care how, but you have to do it soon. Something about my being here has stirred up her spirit. Either I have to leave or she’ll make me. Do you hear me? I am staying in town until I hear from you again.”

     She continued to look at him for a few moments longer, but relaxed her features while she searched his face for understanding. Matthew’s face relaxed then, too, and he nodded slowly.

“Alright. You know where to find me. Please tell Saul in the morning, and he is also welcome for a visit.”  She whistled to Duke who came right to her. Matthew watched her remount, straighten her wraps, and ride away.

 – I feel like this one is rushed, lots to do today, and am not entirely happy with it. How could it be better?

Creating a short story #6

Feeling the tall grasses pulling at her skirts, Mary holds out her hand palm downward to skim over the tops of the blades, high now and up to her waist. They are more smooth than rough, her hand gliding easily as she walks, but the edges of each has tiny hooks or hairs that catch ever so slightly. She walks slowly to let the fabric of her dress make as little contact with the grasses as possible and turns her face toward the pier. Saul is comfortably sitting there, pants rolled up to just under his knees, dangling his bare feet over the edge. He’s too far away to hear her approaching just yet, so Mary observes the gentle rippling surface of the water. She sees a few ducks land, go tail up to eat smaller fish and bugs, and then flap their wings and take off again only to set down in another section and repeat the maneuver. Some insect, a grasshopper maybe, makes a creaking kind of buzz which causes its neighbors to echo it. Soon, the whole field is filled with the low buzz and they begin jumping from one blade to another.

Saul turns, almost unconsciously, to investigate what’s disturbing the insects to see Mary heading toward the pier, carrying a small basket covered with a dish cloth.

“Hey, there!” he calls. “What brings you out to the lake?”

“Today was bread-baking day. I have ten new loaves and one with extra butter just for you. It was such a pretty day I decided to take a walk and drop this off,” she said, handing him the basket. “We can have our visit here and then I’d like to explore the shore a bit. I’ve been here more than three months already and realized I’ve only ever looked at the lake through the window. It’s time for me to learn a bit more about where I live.”

Saul gingerly lifted the corner of the cloth and inched his nose closer to the fresh loaf. With a deep breath he involuntarily closed his eyes to take in the scent. “Ohhh, that’s good! Thank you very kindly.” He set the basket down behind himself and returned to his fishing rod. “Why don’t you join me while I fish? I have another rod you could use.”

“That sounds nice. I haven’t gone fishing since I was a girl. My sister and I used to wade in the stream and catch minnows for bait, then head to my uncle’s pond for some bass. What do you use for bait?”

“Well, if my bread gets stale I might use that, but since you’ve been baking I eat it all before I have any to use. I have a special net to catch some of the grasshoppers you just scared, too. I know a shady place that draws in the earthworms so I dig up a bunch when the ground is soft, like it was yesterday, so today I have worms.”

“Perfect. I think earthworms lure in the biggest fish.” He quickly ran for the rod hanging on the side of the enclosure on the boat and handed it to Mary. She dug into the tin pail for a few seconds and came up with a wriggling and thick worm. With two fingers pinching it, she slid the hook first through its wide pink segment and then again about an inch from the other end. Then she removed her shoes and stockings and draped her lower legs over the edge to match Saul’s position. They both cast out together, careful not to cross lines, and sat quietly while the sun shone on their bared faces.

After some time with no bites, Mary laid down the rod and turned to look at the boat.

“How’s your roommate?”

“Roommate?” he asked, looking at her strangely.

She looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, the hairy one with four legs.”  

He laughed out loud and said, “What a way you have with words! Why didn’t you just say ‘the dog’? I guess he’s alright. Quiet fella, doesn’t whine at me or beg for attention. Only barks at the fish if he’s sitting with me when I catch one. Real polite about it, though. If he wants to eat one, he’ll sit next to it while it flops about and then look at me, waiting for my go-ahead. He only snatches it up when I say he can. Too bad for whoever lost him, but I’m sure pleased with him.”

“Did you name him yet?”

“No, can’t seem to think of anything that fits. Sarah was always …” He paused and looked at her, catching the surprised expression on Mary’s face. Before she could think what to say next he continued, “Sarah was better with animals. I know Matthew never talks about her so I haven’t either, especially when he could feel the hurt all over again if I mentioned her around him.”

Unable to help herself, Mary blurted, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”

“How would you? No, don’t worry about it.” He stopped for a few seconds, seemingly catching his breath and gathering his courage. “Sarah was my little sister. That’s how they met. She was visiting me and I took her into town to show her around. She rarely left the homestead, busy raising the horses and tending whatever other animals were running around. Our parents have a farm about ten miles to the north, along the river that feeds Lake Promise. I came out here after a fight with Pa, and she was kind of a communicator between Ma and me. Anyway, she loved animals and couldn’t help admiring this horse hitched up outside the mercantile. I recognized it as Matthew’s, and told her I’d introduce her to the owner. They were nearly inseparable after that.”

“It must be painful for you…” Mary couldn’t get herself to ask the question, but continued, “to talk about her. It seems you were close.”

“It’s nice to talk about her. She was one of the best people I’ve ever known.” He stopped again, getting up, “but you were asking about the dog. I bet he’d like to say hello and thank you for taking care of him.” Saul headed down the pier and stepped onto his boat, disappearing from view. Mary turned back to her rod and cast out again, but a breeze picked up just as the line was about to hit the water and pushed it into the reeds growing near the shore.  

Reaching the mass of plants, Mary began to untangle the line. Noticing some movement off to her right, she turned and looked toward the pale thing in the water. With a gasp, Mary recognized the pretty young face and blond hair, the same as the person she saw behind the barn. This can’t be real she thought, wondering who it was and why she was in the lake. Looking more closely, the image wasn’t under the water, it wasn’t a body. It was a reflection. “You’re not here, I would have seen you walking toward me.”

This place is mine

The whispering voice floated next to Mary’s ear as the reflection’s mouth moved on the water’s surface. Curious and drawn to the image, Mary reached down toward the speaker, her fingers reaching toward the woman’s shoulder and down into the water. Something grabbed onto her hand, enclosed it, and Mary felt as if she couldn’t move a muscle in protest. The voice whispered more loudly This place is mine!

Footsteps hit the wood of the pier, heavy from the man and light from the dog, moving away from the boat house and toward the end of it. “Mary!” Saul called, “quit fussing with your line if it’s caught, I’ll string it over again. Come on back. Someone wants to meet you.”

The reflection glanced away from Mary and toward the boat. Its expression changed from the intense insistence of a moment ago and saddened, releasing its grip on Mary. She stood quickly, suddenly relieved to be able to move away from the shore. The image rippled and faded in a second.

“R – right, um, be right there.” Drying her hand on her sleeve, she also rubbed away the goose flesh that she hadn’t realized had popped up. Walking over to the pier got her blood moving again and she began taking deep breaths.

“You upset about the line?” Saul asked as she reached him, “because it doesn’t matter. I have plenty to fix it.”

“No, it’s not that. I, uh, well, I think when the wind picked up I caught a small chill.” She bent down to pet the pair of fluffy ears. “He looks much better now that he’s clean.” Timid, and still shaken, she asked, “Do you mind if I sit inside the boat with him and warm up, out of the breeze?”

“That’s alright, as long as you don’t mind the cramped quarters. Or my mess,” he said with a smile, trying to lighten her mood, disappointed he was unsuccessful. He took her by the elbow and guided her through the doorway. “Have a seat where you like. I’ll just fix up the rod.” As soon as he turned away Mary collapsed onto the bench that ran the length of the small table near the back of the boat. The dog sat down by her feet and rested his head on her lap. Closing her eyes and stroking the soft fur, Mary’s thoughts returned to the woman’s face. She doesn’t want me here. Who is she? Will Saul think I’m crazy if I ask?

After taking a few minutes to steady her breathing Mary got up and began to walk around the space. Looking for a cup to fill with water, she opened one of the cupboards. Rather than typical kitchen utensils or pots, Mary found an old photo album. Not expecting much but Saul’s former life inside, she began to flip through its pages. A few were of a wooden farm house with the family, which included several generations, lined up on the porch. Another was of two children, a boy and a girl, obviously Saul and Sarah when they were small. A few flips later revealed a wedding photo. The groom was Matthew, clean shaven and in a dark jacket next to his bride. She was beautiful, young, and blond. That smiling face was much happier than the one she had just seen floating in the lake, but it was unmistakably the same person.

My question here – should she make a hasty escape, an excuse to Saul and leave? Can I leave this hanging before the next part?

Creating a short story #5

Matthew sits by the fire Mary had built when the afternoon had begun to see a sprinkle from the clouds which were now storming, meaning this chair is just about the only place he could be right now. He had thought about waiting out the storm for a while in the barn, so he set about tending the horses and the mule just as the rain let loose from the sky. As he was about to bury the pitch fork in the pile of hay used for bedding he stopped in mid-swing, seeing the strange dog stand up on the top of the mound at his movement. Instead, Matthew put the pitch fork away against the wall, muttered a “hmph” at it and left the barn by the sliding door. He stomped through the quickly-forming mud, up the stairs, onto the porch, and straight into the cabin without even shutting the door.

“What is that animal doing in the barn?” He nearly spat the question at Mary, her back turned to the door as she placed fresh logs in the fireplace.

“I know this is your house, but you may want to keep it dry in here and shut the door.” Grudgingly, he did as she requested, but didn’t move in the room any further and stood glaring at her once the rain no longer found its way inside. Mary stared back. “Well, you have several animals in the barn, since that’s where they tend to stay to get out of the weather. Which do you mean?”

“I mean the only animal that is not mine – I mean the strange dog.”  His temper had flared up at her flippant response, showing itself in his clenched teeth and a stiff arm now pointing in the direction of the building in question.

“Oh, right. You don’t mind the poor guy staying there, do you? He came up to the door earlier in the afternoon, while Saul was here on his regular visit, and scratched at it. I thought that meant he was friendly and used to people, so I offered him a place in the barn for a while.”

“I don’t like it. Get him out of here.” Matthew muttered this as he started to move across the room to the table.

“Please, if you don’t mind, would you remove your boots before you get any more mud on the floor?”

“I don’t mind at all,” he said as he stomped the last few paces to the table, shedding most of the wet mud in wide splashes on the planks. He sat heavily in the nearest chair and pushed each boot off with the toes of the opposite foot, letting them bounce and land as they chose, and then stood again to glare at her.

“I don’t care how much you dislike dogs. I’m not going to turn the animal away when it’s obviously hungry and needs a place to stay warm and dry. Besides, Saul already told me you wouldn’t want anything to do with it. He plans to take it in himself, said he needs some company on his boat.” She turned from him again and adjusted the logs on the fire as if they might roll away without her constant supervision.

Matthew relaxed at that news. He knew Saul was a good man, never caused anyone any trouble, and he couldn’t really tell him what to do with his own home or what he let inside it. Silently, he moved to the rocking chair near the hearth where he often sat to dry his damp socks or warm up, as he realized he needed to do right now. He sat down with a sigh, rested his head on the high back and closed his eyes.

“Alright, then. One night.”

Mary looked over to say thank you, but seeing his whole body flopped in the chair, weary and suppressing his irritation, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. After a few minutes of listening to the drumming of the rain on the roof she noticed it had gotten quieter, but some soft snoring filled her ears instead. He never stirred as the door shut behind her when Mary left for the day.

When Matthew woke the logs had burned to coals, but they still threw up some flames amid the mass of glowing red coals. He pulled three more from the store next to the hearth when he realized he was alone and piled them on, carefully, and began to think about the dog and the last time one had lived on his farm.

It was the first day he brought Sarah to see the cabin once he’d finished building it. He had planned to bring her from the far side of the lake so the barn was visible for most of the ride toward it. That way he could position her behind the barn and then surprise her with it by having her take a few eyes-tight-shut steps to the side before he’d say she could look.

She’d dressed so pretty that day, like she knew it was an important day. She wore her favorite yellow dress with tiny pink roses and fine lace around its collar and cuffs. She’d told him it made her feel like every day could be like spring, with new possibilities and discoveries to make. It was a good choice – this trip meant something new was coming. He’d led her to believe the cabin wouldn’t be livable for the next two months, though he suspected he wasn’t that good at keeping it secret. She had chattered during the whole wagon ride around the lake, talking about the birds flying above and the dragonflies that buzzed by her ears. He loved the way she giggled when one seemed to tickle her ear, exposed to their assault because her hair was pulled up in a tidy bun. Involuntarily, he smiled at the memory of the sound.

Her giggling continued as he gave her cryptic directions about closing her eyes once they reached the barn and the wagon stopped.

“How am I supposed to get down with my eyes closed?”

“I’ll guide you. Reach for my hands,” he had said, lifting them up so she could find them, with plenty of giddy excitement himself.

He positioned her nearly at the corner of the barn so that once he was on the porch he could tell her to take a few steps to the right. Once she promised not to move until he said, he almost raced to the porch. He looked through the window to ensure everything inside was as he’d left it before turning back to call to her. She followed the sound of his voice very well, stepping cautiously out from behind the barn until she was clear of it. Her eyes opened before he could ask for that from her, too, and she stopped walking. Sarah had no expression on her face at first. She looked carefully toward the structure, taking in the ground between them before examining the porch and then settling her gaze on Matthew.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his smile fading, worried it disappointed her in some way.

“No, not at all… it’s just… I think…”

“What? Don’t you like it?”

She smiled a quick smile for him then, helping him to relax. “Yes! Yes, I do like it. I just think it needs one more thing.”

“Well, why don’t I show you one more part of the surprise. Then you can make up your mind.” Matthew moved to the front door and opened it slowly, peeking his head inside. He said a few quiet words and then opened the door wider. Out walked, or rather, half stumbled, a little rusty colored ball of fur. It looked up at Matthew for a second and kept on going until it reached the end of the porch, and not sure what to do next, it looked down at the ground and whined.

“A puppy!” Sarah giggled more loudly now, which quickly broke out into a laugh. “Yes, that’s what was missing! I couldn’t want anything more.” It was now her turn to race across the yard and away from the barn. She first went to the puppy and rubbed behind both its ears, bringing her nose down to meet it. She picked it up and then stepped up to the porch, wrapping a free arm around Matthew’s waist.

“It’s perfect,” she had said.

That was the best day they’d ever shared.

Only two short weeks later, that same puppy followed too closely underfoot. He never knew he should watch out for the horses. Poor thing never saw it coming. Sarah had cried for days, staying away from the barn with less and less believable excuses. Eventually, he had convinced her the horses had no idea the pup was there, it was just an accident and there was no reason to think the horses were dangerous.

If only he could go back to that perfect day once more, to see her looking at the house again, at him again, as if the possibilities were just waiting to be discovered.

—Not sure about the wording in this last paragraph, about the possibilities. Now that I’ve dropped a few more clues, I’d appreciate some predictions about what might happen next!  All comments so far bring out your ideas and perceptions, and are very useful! Keep reading!

Creating a short story #4

Part Four:

Mary keeps Duke at a walk on her way to the cabin, noticing the gray cloud cover and keeping an eye on how the wind blows. It’s still mostly calm, barely blowing the strands of her horse’s mane from their resting place on the long bay neck. It’s too soon to tell if the clouds will let loose their moisture before or after noon. At least the ride from town is dry she thinks, and I remembered my slicker for later. Mary glances down at the ruts in the road, looking for low spots where water will collect and turn to mud, memorizing distinctive plants or other trail indicators to look for on the way back. She begins wondering about Mr. Miller’s odd behavior at the puddle, now nearly a week past, leaning over it like he was. Was he looking for something, like tadpoles or other wriggling creatures, within it? Matthew didn’t seem like the curious type. In all the days from then until now Mary had never seen him pause so much as a minute at anything else, seemingly always in motion while he went about the farm’s business.

Hours later, Mary notices the chill in the cabin since the wind has picked up. Small cracks, few in as they are, between the logs have started to whistle with the increased force. The sound echoes quietly around the large room, seeming to bounce off the stones of the fireplace and increase their annoyance at having to slow down. A fire would rid the room of the chill. Then, if Mr. Miller comes in from the rain he’ll have somewhere to warm up and dry off. Gathering and rearranging the kindling into a small tower in the hearth, then striking the match, Mary smiles that the beginnings of a fire already throw off a little heat. The familiar rap at the window frame interrupts her chore for just a minute. She turns to see Saul’s approving smile through the glass as she stands and crosses the room.

“Feeling a chill?” Saul asks, once the window is open.

“Just a bit. I’m hoping to keep from getting colder once the rain starts. Have any idea how long?”

“We should have some time, the trees haven’t started to sway yet, but clouds like this tend to tease the land with a sprinkle and don’t really give it a good drink until nightfall.”

“I see you do have more clothes to wear.” Mary nodded toward his torso, observing a gray flannel left unbuttoned, draping over his broad shoulders. “Are you worried about a sprinkle?”

“Never can be too careful,” he said with a sheepish half smile. “Besides, I like the way it smells after it gets a little freshness in the fibers. I can hang it up inside the boat and keep the smell with me. It breaks up the fish smell that normally keeps me company.”

Another sound broke in to the conversation. It seemed the whistling was grating on the wood, but not exactly. Both Mary and Saul heard it at the same time and stood listening.

“Do you hear that? What is it?” Mary turned an ear back toward the inside of the cabin, unsure of the source of the sound.

“I don’t know what it could be. Let me look around a bit.” Saul began to walk around the outside, heading toward the front porch. Mary takes the same path and hears a more distinct scratching at irregular intervals. Scrtich, scratch-scratch. Now she could tell it was coming from the other side of the front door. Upon opening it, Mary discovered a scraggly, dirty, scrawny dog on the porch. Its brown clear eyes look up at her, seeming to ask if it could come in.

“Not looking like that, you aren’t,” Mary told it, “I can’t promise anything more than a bit of food.” Kneeling to get a good look at it, she examined the tangled mass of straw-colored fur for any cuts or injuries. “You seem alright, just bedraggled. Came here to get in out of the weather, did you? How’s a nap in the barn sound?”

A low laugh rumbled toward her from the edge of the porch where Saul had propped himself up with one hand on the outer wall.

“You’re not afraid of that stray dog one bit!” The surprise and amusement in his voice and on his face was clear. “I can walk him over to the barn if you like while you get him something to eat, like you promised.”

“Yes, Saul, I’d truly appreciate that.” Saul let out a quick whistle and Mary stood watching the newcomer turn and trot toward him. Just then a sprinkle of rain started tapping on the metal roof and hit the man and dog as well, causing Saul to shrug his shoulders a bit and turn up his collar, picking up his pace as he headed to the barn. Mary noticed what appeared to be a young woman, almost hiding on the other side of the barn and peeking toward the dog and then beyond it to her on the porch. The two women look at each other for a few moments. This stranger wears a cotton dress much like her own with a full skirt and long sleeves. It seems the dress should be yellow with small pink flowers, but it has faded from age and repeated washings. There is a small ring of lace around the collar which frames the young face well, all the more visible and attractive with her blond hair pulled up into a bun. When Saul slid the door into place after welcoming his new friend the woman took a few small steps toward the cabin.

“May I help you?” Mary called out, hoping this woman owned the dog, the two of them travelling and begging together. Maybe she wanted to see if these people were friendly before approaching herself. Instead of speaking, the stranger stopped walking and studied Mary for what seemed like a very long time. “You don’t need to worry. If that’s your dog you can stay with him. I’ll help clean him up, even bring you some warm water if you like,” she tried. This got no response. The stranger now appeared to have frozen as she was a few minutes before, neither shifting her weight, or shivering from the cool rain. In fact, she didn’t look like she was even getting wet.

The barn door scraped open again, releasing Saul out into the weather. Mary turned her view to him and called out, “Saul, will you…” and began to point in the direction of the woman. Saul turned as she indicated, and Mary couldn’t finish her sentence. There was no longer anyone to point at.

“What are you saying?” He hurried up to the shelter of the porch roof before Mary could think of an explanation.

“Didn’t you see anyone?”

“Just you. Standing here. I thought you went in to get that dog some food.”

“No. I saw someone behind the barn, thought she was with the dog or owned it, maybe.”

“Saw someone?”

“Right.”

“Where?” he asked, turning back the way he had come.

“Nowhere, now. Must have scared her off.”

“Most likely. Might have felt safer out of sight. Maybe went through the other door into the barn, if the dog is hers. Maybe wanted to see it went to a good home.”

“Probably.” Something about that explanation didn’t seem right. Something told her she was wrong about the woman, that she’d seen her before. That she had nothing to do with the dog after all.

“Anyways, if she ran off and the dog needs more attention tomorrow, and a few fish, I’ll come take him off your hands. Ol’ Matt always said he’d take care of all the livestock the farm could raise but never a dog. Seems a shame to let him run wild when I have a perfectly good boat needing a watchdog.”
Mary smiled at this, since Saul had nothing of value and never ventured out of walking distance to the lake.“Until tomorrow, then,” she said, looking out from under the porch to the last remnants of the sprinkle dripping off its edge. With a wave he was off.

Creating a short story part 3

Matthew found the morning bright, with only a few wisps of clouds left from yesterday’s cranky storms. The cow-trodden pathways through the pasture still held water in intermittent puddles, all of which Matthew was careful to steer Buck around. Solid grassy tufts were easier on tired hooves, anyway, or would keep them from getting sore and making extra work at the end of the day. He had wrapped three biscuits in his handkerchief, expecting them to last the whole ride but discovered them finished before he was halfway out, which meant he would either have to scrounge for berries or head back home near midday for another meal. Nothing bothered him as much as needing to return to the cabin early, so he decided that he would disregard his stomach as long as possible.

He dismounted when he reached the downed portion of the fence. Three left for today. The soaked ground made it easier to dig the post holes, but it was still too soft to hold them firmly upright. He’d have to prop them up with whatever stones he could dig up from repositioning the holes and come back yet again to check their stability, probably more than a few times. Silently he picked up his shovel from under the lone nearby (what kind? Cherry = romance, maple = balance/promise, birch = new beginnings) tree where he’d left it to keep it out of the rain if more should come. He reached out and touched the trunk to steady himself as he bent down, but when he stood straight again he realized what he was touching and snatched his hand back as if he thought the tree might bite him, suddenly aware of the contact, and rubbed the sensation away on the leg of his pants. Brushing off the feeling, he marched over to the fence line while pulling on his gloves and began digging as furiously as he dared. The work managed to quiet his mind as only a constructive task could do. The effort of using his muscles drew all the energy away from his brain, relieving it to think of the process and nothing more. By the time the sun seemed to hover above him, suspended, casting a dark and tiny shadow near his toes, he leaned on the shovel’s long handle to survey the newly restored boundary. Chest heaving from the hours of exertion, Matthew began to feel calm while he paid attention to the simple act of breathing.

Resigning to the fact that he should sit under some shade, he moved to the tree’s cover and found the least moist spot he could to lie down. Involuntarily, his eyes stared up through the branches and the softly rustling leaves. The blood returned to his brain and sparked a memory of a day not too far in the past.

He had brought Sarah here for a picnic, just a few months after the wedding. The cabin had just been completed and it was time to celebrate with some time just for the two of them.

“This is the perfect spot for a picnic,” Sarah had said when they arrived, “because we have the shade of this beautiful tree and a view of these beautiful fields of wildflowers. I think we should make a habit of coming out here, how about once every week?”

“Every week?!” Matthew shouted, more surprised by the frequency than any opposition to the idea. “I don’t know if we can manage that. A farm takes nearly constant attention, as you’ll soon get used to, and I don’t see how I can take that much time off.”

“What about on Sundays? It is a day of rest, you know, and you’ll wear yourself out if you don’t stop occasionally.” She smiled at him, the smile she always used when she knew she’d said something he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, argue against. The memory of that smile froze in his mind just then, along with the way her hair picked up slightly in the breeze at the same time, making her face the sweetest thing he’d ever seen on earth.

Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around his knees and looked back at the fence to force away the image and the tears he could feel pushing out from the corners of his eyes. He cast his glance around a bit, searching for something else to take its place, and found his own reflection in one of the larger puddles in the path. He stood then, and moved a bit closer to its edge so he could see his face look straight down into it. He noticed the stubble on his chin and cheeks had filled in more than he thought, and his curly hair had lengthened to cover his ears almost completely. He removed his hat to run his fingers through his bangs, trying to uncover the forehead underneath, and discovered the dirt still there from yesterday had found some wrinkles he never knew existed. With a heavy sigh, he wondered if it was worth finding the scissors and soap to do something about this unknown person staring back at him.

Not totally lost in this gaze, Matthew noticed some movement on the water’s surface next to him. Sarah’s face rose to rest next to his reflection, as if she had just stepped up next to him to see what he found so interesting in the puddle. It was the same face he had remembered minutes ago, lying under the tree. She smiled another smile this time. The corners of her mouth wrinkled with what seemed a happy expression, but her eyes held a soft sadness that dampened it. He stared for several seconds, not willing to look away or speak, hoping to hold on to that image as long as possible. The look in her eye changed to expectant, like she was waiting for him to say something – it had been so long since they had spoken.

“Sarah…” was all he could accomplish in a whisper so faint that the breeze blew it away as soon as he uttered it. He was unsure he had said anything at all, and began to fear this was a trick his mind was playing on him.

“I’m here, Matthew,” the image said in an equally quiet whisper. He let out a quick gasp and began to smile. He refused to let any part of his body move, even to turn sideways to see if she really was standing next to him, just in case any movement would disturb the surface of the puddle.

“I miss you, so much. Where are you?” he finally spoke to the water.

“Right here, sweetie, right here. I’m with you, always, just like I promised.” Sarah’s face grew calmer then, the smile replaced by a worried look. “But, we could be closer, if you’d like.”

“How? Just tell me, I’ll do anything…” he breathed out quickly, desperately, and louder now that she hadn’t disappeared.

“There is a way, if you trust me. Do you trust me? Do you want to be together?”

“More than anything!”

“Alright. Come closer and I’ll tell you.” Matthew carefully bent at the knees and waist, finally resting his palms near the edge of the puddle, inching closer to its surface and the slowly returning smile on Sarah’s face.

Suddenly, the puddle began to ripple and her image became blurred. Matthew opened his mouth to speak again and he furrowed his brows in confusion. Just as quickly, however, the surface stilled and two images appeared in the water. This time Matthew looked for his wife’s blond hair and beckoning expression only to find Mary’s dark hair and placid face. He stood and whirled around to face her, screaming, “What do you want?”

“Oh, I – I didn’t mean to startle you…” Mary stammered, shocked at how quickly his mood seemed to change from curiosity to fury. “I just thought you’d be done with the fence and need something to eat. I was only going to bring you this butter bread and an apple and leave again. Don’t let me disturb you.” She held out a small basket which held the uninvited nourishment.

“You’ve already done that.” He mumbled gruffly. Mary, seeing he made no move to take the basket, set it down at the edge of the path.

“Well, I’m leaving. You can get back to whatever you were doing.” With that, she walked back over to where her own horse had begun to munch on the tall grass. Matthew watched her climb up and use her heels to urge the animal into a canter. He abruptly felt weak and disappointed, allowing himself to sink to his knees before burying his face in his hands and sitting on his heels. Unable to resist the fire building behind his eyelids any longer, his shoulders began to shake with sobs as the tears flowed out onto his rough cheeks.

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