Tuesday, July 20, 2010

LOOSING THE MESS .... and Winter Wheat Chapter 11 cont'd

I just noticed I have a new follower - welcome, and thanks for joining my site. 

Things have settled down in my world.  Now if I could only remember what I was up to last week, I would be really really happy.  Last night after catching up with my laundry, I decided to iron some clothes for work this week.  I went in the craft room and saw evidence of several projects in various stages of production, all over the room.  The ironing board was buried under fabric, patterns, felt, fur, scissors, thread and containers of straight pins.  There is a miniature wedding dress draped over one sewing machine; doll-sized fur slippers cut out but not sewn on the chair, patterns sitting on top of the second sewing machine; crochet cotton with needles sticking out of projects on the cabinet; and, and, and... 
So I gave myself a lecture, muttered to myself for quite some time, as I straightened and organized and generally tried to clean up so I could iron my clothes.  My craft-room roommate (Churchill - my 20 yr old Cockatiel) was so happy to see me he whistled and sang, and carried on as if I hadn't been around for weeks...
I did manage to iron all the clothes in the basket that needed ironing, and I truly felt better that I could now see surfaces in my work area.  So I am good to go again - well kinda, sorta...
Maybe not - on the way home from work on Friday evening - I made an unexpected visit to the library.  In my bag when I left there, was 7 novels, 6 doll books, 4 cd's and 5 magazines.... might be awhile before I get back to those projects!


Winter Wheat continues....


By the time they arrived home, it was late afternoon, and the sun was threatening to retreat for the day.  Emilie ushered all of the children out of the wagon box and into the house.  The fire had died down and the house was cool, so she added wood to the stove and the fireplace, shooed the children to their rooms to change into dry clothes, and put milk on the stove to warm for some hot cocoa.  She fixed a light meal to go along with the hot drinks, and by the time Karl returned to the house the children were all well on their way to their beds for the night.  They stayed awake only long enough to see Karl drag the tree into the house, trim off the lower branches, and place the tree into the five gallon pail of sand that he had brought in with the tree.
When the children were assured that the tree would be ready for decorating the next day, they tiredly made their way to their beds, the smaller ones needing help from the adults to get to where they were going.  When the children were settled, Emilie made her way back to the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove for some much needed hot tea.
Karl followed her into the kitchen and set himself up at the table to open the large stack of mail that had arrived sometime that day.  In the pile of correspondence was a letter from Martha, and one from Emilie’s uncle in Germany, which had been forwarded along by Martha as well.  
Karl silently held the letter out to Emilie, and waited until she came across the kitchen to retrieve it.  “This looks like it might be for you, Emilie.”  
She took the envelope from his out-stretched hand and lowered herself to the chair on the opposite side of the table from where Karl sat.  
He watched closely as she gently fingered the stamp, and then turned the envelope over in her small hands and tore a small corner of the envelope open.  With shaking hands she ran her finger along the edge until the envelope was completely open; then carefully retrieved the letter inside.  She looked up once, and gave Karl a weak smile, before she lowered her head and read the letter.
Dear Emilie . . . her uncle’s strong German scroll started off the letter . . .
 We received your letter and are so saddened at the news of Wilhelm’s passing.  We cannot believe that you have been left all alone, especially in a foreign place.  Auntie and I discussed your situation and we both agree that you should return home to Germany at once.  I have enclosed enough money for your passage, and for anything else you may require before you reach home.  Once you are here, you will stay with us until you can get your life back in order, and then whatever you decide to do, we will support your decision.
You know Auntie and I were never for this idea of Wilhelm’s in the first place.  That it cost him his life is beyond belief.  Please come home as soon as you can arrange your transport.
You’re loving 
Uncle Helmuth   
   
Emilie folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope.  She glanced at the pile of German money that had fallen out of the envelope along with the letter, and then stuffed this back into the envelope as well.  When she raised her eyes it was to find Karl’s steady glance directed her way.
She nodded to the envelope lying on the table between them.  “That’s from my Uncle Helmuth in Germany,” she said softly.  “He wants me to come home to Germany now that Wilhelm’s gone  . . . he’s even sent me the money for my fare home . . .”  
Karl’s heart pummeled his chest.  He caught her gaze and lost himself in the blue pool of her eyes.  “Don’t go . . ." he whispered past the huge restriction that had formed in his throat.  “Emilie . . . I . . .” he swallowed hard and shook his head as if to clear it.
She watched his struggle and before he could say anything further, she rose, snatched the envelope up off the table, and tore from the room and up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room.  Long before she reached her destination she lost her vision to the blur of tears that rushed to her eyes, and her choked sobs were heard by the man who sat holding his head in his hands at the table, a floor below.
In her despair she curled her body around the child who occupied the bed with her.  She placed her head alongside that of Anne-Marie’s and hugged the small body close to her own.  She let the tears fall as her heart slowly broke for the third time in her life.  She heard a chair scrape across the floor in the kitchen below, and then heard the soft thud, as the heavy door to Karl’s bedroom closed.  As she lay in her misery she heard something hit Karl’s door with force, and then the unmistakable crash of breaking glass.  He cursed loudly and then one more time something hit the door.
She listened for only a moment more, then covered her ears with her hands and fell to pieces. 

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