****
The pesky rooster crowed as sunlight barely lit the room. For Cecile, he only announced another lonely day filled with tasks she hated. Still tired from yesterday’s chores, she fought the urge to roll over and go back to sleep, but resisted. Although staying within the comfort of the warm and cozy blankets was much more enticing than all the things that had become her responsibility, she threw back the covers and steeled herself against the brisk morning air.
The rough plank flooring felt icy cold as she moved her bare feet from side to side, searching for her slippers. She pulled on her worn and faded wrapper and, hunching into a shiver, shuffled across to the fireplace. Fingers of morning light touched the pitiful mismatched furniture and rough hewn walls, a grim reminder of her disappointment in her new home, nothing at all like the painted rooms and elegant furnishings in her parents’ place. Who would have guessed that marrying the man of her dreams would bring her miles from civilization to a life that left her feeling older than her actual nineteen years?
When flames crackled in the fireplace, she opened the door and stared across the prairie, at the fiery orange halo stretching across the horizon. A light breeze blew the knee-high grass back and forth in a rhythmic dance, and drops of dew reflected the rising sun. Goose bumps peppered her arms. Loneliness hung heavy in her heart.
The chickens foraged the ground for feed, and the cow and horses kicked the wall of the barn, restless for release into the roomier outside pen. Unhappy grunts from the pigsty indicated the sow was ready to eat. Cecile sighed, wondering about Walt. He should have been home by now. Maybe today was the day. She ducked back inside and changed into her work clothes.
During her husband’s absence, she’d perfected the routine of balancing the outside chores with the inside ones. Thankfully, the weather change lessened the amount of dust seeping through the crooked shutters, giving her a respite from sweeping. With everything done for the day, she sat down to practice her crocheting, noting she was getting pretty good at it. Strangely, the practice piece of knotted yarn was beginning to grow into something resembling a baby blanket.
Images of a young boy in little coveralls, working alongside his father, filled her head. The lad looked like Walt. The picture switched to a miniature of herself, the Cecile that wore pretty dresses and looked feminine as a child.
****
As you can see, Walt has gone for supplies, leaving Cecile behind. She's biding her time, and now believes she's 'with child.'
Until next week...I'll leave you with my Amazon Author's Page in case you can't wait for more.
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