Christmastide

 

I thought I'd make this post an excerpt of the current book I've been working on. The chapter is titled "Christmastide" and I'm sharing a very small part of it here. It works for the season a bit. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays...Peace and Light to all. 

Christmastide 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson 

©Veronica Randolph Batterson

December 26, 1872

The fire blazed in the hearth, warming the room while the flames licked the bottom of the pot filled with simmering potatoes and leeks. The aroma reminded Josephine that she had not eaten, but for some stale bread and moldy cheese, in nearly four days; the journey had been arduous and its secrecy nearly cost her everything. A much longer journey loomed.  Was he safe? Or had he been discovered by those looking to do him harm? It had been over four months since she last saw him. 

Hunger stabbed at her belly as she watched the woman ladle the soup into a bowl, sloshing the contents as she set it in front of Josephine. 

“This’ll do ye well,” the woman started, “nothing good ever came on an empty belly.” Then she moved to serve the group of men two tables away. The driver, shotgun rider and scout ate ravenously, pulling apart bread and drinking ale, greedily waiting for the mince pies which would follow. 

Josephine ate, relishing each bite as if it would be her last; unlike the men, she was certain to be tasting the food and not just inhaling it. Yet feeding extreme hunger was not the same as feeding for two. And Josephine had not kept much down over the course of the last few months, even though she, too, was hungry. The woman serving the food noticed.

“My mama always swore by honey. A spoonful here, a dollop there. Fixed most things that ailed a soul. Got some hidden in the back,” the woman whispered, sliding the pie in front of Josephine. “If that ain’t fixing ye, a good dram of whiskey never hurt.” 

The woman’s kind eyes watched Josephine with concern as she moved to serve the other customers. The savory and sweet taste of the pie was satisfying and filling. It was not met with the usual waves of nausea that had plagued Josephine at most attempts to eat. 

The front door of the establishment suddenly opened bringing bits of snow, colder air and a fur clad man the size of a giant through it. He shook his shoulders and stomped his feet, shaking off the outdoors before striding over to the woman at the hearth and giving her a hearty hug, lifting her from her feet. 

“Oh, ye nearly scared me to death,” the woman exclaimed breathlessly, eyeing the wrapped parcel the man held out to her… 

(To be Continued…)