Are you sure it is really Friday again? I thought I just posted! I really have to get to writing or I'm going to run out of things to post. I might have gotten 100 words written on Wednesday evening, but that is it!
You see, it has been a very busy and crazy week. Where do I start?
Last Friday I might have mentioned (or maybe I didn't know or forgot), but Sis and I babysat the kiddos that evening so Brother and Sis-i-l could have one last date before Baby came. We had fun and did "school."
Saturday was pretty regular. I was trying to catch up on things and get some preview books read for Light of Faith and then I did write in the evening, but that was last week. :)
Sunday was very relaxed and we even got home from church around 2:00! Almost unheard of for us. You see, we all bring something and share a lunch each Sunday after church and fellowship and visit while my sister teaches the kids Bible verses with hand motions. We usually don't leave until 2:30.
Then came Monday. It started out with usual things and I managed to get some things done before supper. We all headed out after we ate, to the roller skating rink where families from church and other friends had gathered to enjoy the evening. I do like roller skating. Everyone seemed to enjoy it and then we, Brother, Sis-i-l and their kids and Sis-i-l's parents and two sisters (my heart sisters) all went out to Culver's for ice cream for Goofball's birthday. (And Brother's birthday since Goofball was born the day before his Daddy's birthday.)
Tuesday morning the call came. "Can you come get the kids? Baby is coming." Sure enough, Baby Boy came that afternoon! (Sorry, he doesn't have a nickname yet. :) ) We all went over to see Baby that evening and then brought the kids back over here to spend the night.
Had the kids until nap time on Wednesday. I asked Doodle Bug one time if he was my Doodle and he nodded his head and said, "Doodle." :) I've been calling him Doodles, it fits him. He is a comedian. :)
Yesterday I managed to get a few things done, but no writing because my grandparents came down to see Baby and then Grandpa and I went to a concert last evening. It was a Piano and Clarinet duo that we heard. Very pleasant and fun.
Today we clean house and then go bowling this afternoon. Hoping I can write tonight.
I'm still looking for cattle brands for Triple Creek Ranch. Send any you come up with to readanotherpage (at) gmail (dot) com. I've had two neat ones sent, but want to see what the rest of you can come up with.
Now enjoy part 4 of
A Slip on the Ice
Last week . . .
“I should write to you, old fellow.” Carefully he folded up the letter and replaced it in the envelope. “But not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll do it. America, perhaps I’ll go there someday too. Wouldn’t that be a lark, to surprise Tim.” And he fell to dreaming until it was quite late.
* * * *
“How is he doing, Doctor?”
Dr. Taylor shrugged as he pulled on his heavy coat. “He’s resting, Harrington, but he’s still pretty restless. Keep an eye on him tonight and try to keep him calm. Call me if I’m needed. I have a few other calls to make before heading home.”
“Very good, sir.” Felix nodded and closed the door on the doctor’s retreating form. The snow was still falling and the ground was covered with a thick blanket while the wind continued to blow.
“I do hope he will sleep tonight!”
“Who Mr. Harrington?” queried Trenton.
“Mr. Ashwell. If he doesn’t, he’ll be almost impossible to live with tomorrow.”
“I’ll pray for him,” the lad said simply before biding good night and retiring to the room where he was to sleep.
Turning to the housekeeper after the boy had disappeared, Felix remarked, “That, Mrs. Collins, is a fine lad.”
* * * *
“Ah, Trenton, welcome home. How was the continent?”
“Quite pleasant, Father, only there was so much to see and do, I scarcely had a moment to myself.” The young man laughed gaily.
“What are your plans now that you are home?” Mr. Ashwell leaned back in his chair on the green lawn and smiled on the young man who had just returned. The sun was warm and everywhere birds sang, flowers nodded bright heads and a fountain splashed nearby.
“Oh, I hadn’t decided, Father. I was thinking about America. I might work on your business over there and let you take care of this end. What do you think?”
Stroking his chin, the elder Mr. Ashwell nodded. “A good plan. Mr. Claycomb has been conducting the business over there for some time and has, I fear, grown tired of it. It should do well with a capable and younger mind in charge like yours. By the way, Tim is over in America. What do you hear from him?”
Trent’s voice dropped and his face grew sober. “Nothing for nearly a year, sir. I don’t even know if he still lives in the same place or what has become of him.”
The father’s keen eyes noticed a flush on his son’s face. “What is it, Trent? Have you two had a quarrel?”
“No sir. But you know how it is about distance and friendships. And you get busy and . . .”
“And don’t write as often as you should and in time you quit altogether,” finished Mr. Ashwell. “My son I know it all too well.”
* * * *
A pale sun was shining feebly through a curtain of misty clouds. The snow had stopped sometime during the night and the wind had died down. However, the bitter, penetrating, intense cold had remained behind when the storm ended. Even the faint rays of the sun failed to warm anything outdoors.
Inside the large, white house all was warm. Trenton had been up before dawn, had started the fire in the kitchen for Mrs. Collins, who much preferred a wood stove to cook on during the winter than one of those “new fangled gas contraptions,” and was enjoying a hearty breakfast. A bell rang.
“That’s Mr. Ashwell! Hurry Felix, do!” exclaimed Mrs. Collins, bustling about to get a breakfast tray ready.
Felix made no reply for he as already half way up the stairs, hoping his employer was in a more agreeable frame of mind.
“Good morning, sir,” he quietly greeted the man in bed.
“Is it still snowing, Harrington?” was the unusual response.
“No sir. It quit during the night.”
“Then open those curtains!”
This was done and the faint light of the morning was soon brightening the room. Snow could be seen piled on the branches of the large old tree in the yard. “Humph.” Mr. Ashwell gazed at the snow and then demanded, “Where’s the boy?”
“In the kitchen eating his breakfast—”
“Send him to me at once!”
“But Mr. Ashwell, sir, your own breakfast—”
“I said at once, Harrington! Oh, you can send breakfast up for both of us if you must, but I want to see that boy, Harrington!”
“Yes sir,” Felix answered hastily. “I’ll send him and your breakfast up right away.”
In less than five minutes, Trenton Thomas Jr. arrived carrying a tray with the old man’s breakfast. “Good morning Mr. Ashwell,” was the bright greeting of the young man. “I hope you slept well. Here let me help you,” and setting the tray carefully down, Trenton sprang forward and adjusted the pillows behind the man’s back with a quick and deft hand. “There you are, and here is your breakfast.”
Finding himself comfortably situated in bed with his breakfast on a tray before him, Mr. Ashwell smiled; the first smile, if Trenton had known it, which had crossed his face since yesterday morning.
“Sit down, my boy.” Mr. Ashwell waved his hand towards a chair nearby. “Bring the chair closer so we don’t have to shout to each other. That’s better. Have you had your breakfast? Yes? Good, then we can talk.”
Here Trenton, with another smile, interrupted. “Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Harrington won’t be very pleased with me if you neglect your breakfast. And it is a tasty one, for I saw Mrs. Collins prepare it myself.”
“Well well. It wouldn’t do to upset Harrington more than one can help, would it? Well then, suppose you tell me about yourself while I eat.”
“There isn’t much to tell sir. I’m the eldest son of Trenton Thomas Sr. who is ill. Mother works hard, taking in washing and ironing, but with Father ill and five younger brothers and sisters to feed, I had to find work to help out. There wasn’t any place nearby and Grandfather suggested I try the city, and mother’s old paster, Reverend Sadaro, gave me a reference and so did Mr. Clayton and Judge Fristoe when I went to see them.”
“What did the judge say about coming to see me?” Mr. Ashwell demanded curtly.
“Only that he thought it would be a good idea for me to come.”
In thoughtful silence the old man ate the remains of his breakfast and Trenton waited quietly. After a full five minutes had passed, Mr. Ashwell turned to the lad. “Well, go on.”
Will you be back next week for the final part?
Questions or Comments?