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This week’s prompt is Flannery Alden’s favorite painting, John Rogers Cox’s ‘Gray and Gold’, which resides at the Cleveland Museum of Art.
Prompt:
Use the painting ‘Gray and Gold’ as
inspiration and setting for your story.
Word
Limit: 1,300 words
Deadline:
Wednesday, September 26th at 9:00 p.m. EST
WHEN YOU REACH THE CROSSROADS…
By Veronica Marie
Lewis-Shaw
~~**~~
The woman stepped from between the rows of corn, stalks tall
and bristling with ears not yet ready for harvest, and out into the intersection
of County Road 12 and Hixon
Steerage Road .
With a purposeful stride, she crossed the dry, dusty track, moving
toward the lone mailbox planted at the northeast corner of the crossroads.
The plain grey box, weathered from several decades of standing
sentry in the middle of Kansas farm country, had neither number nor name to
identify its owner, but allowing as the Hixon farm was the only sign of
civilization for twenty miles in any direction, the likelihood of the postal
carrier’s mis-delivering the mail was about the same as that of Todd Hixon
complimenting his wife on her hair… or her dress… or her cooking for that
matter.
The woman’s sigh was barely audible, almost lost in the
faint rustling sound of the wheat and corn fields carried away on the soft
summer breeze. The sigh, and the thought
that had precipitated it, were quickly forgotten as Heather Anne reached the
mailbox and saw that the little red flag was pointed downward at a forty-five
degree angle. The mailman had come and
gone, leaving…
Heather Anne, not for the first time this day, pushed up the
left sleeve of her black and white gingham dress… Todd’s one concession to what
he considered ‘fancy’ in his wife’s
wardrobe… and checked the date again on her wristwatch. In the tiny window on the black face, the
number 20 showed, just as it had the last time she had looked… and the time
before that… and the time before that… and…
The woman quickly straightened, pulling the sleeve back down
and looking around, as if she didn’t want anyone to see what she had just
done. Her heart beat quicker in her
chest and Heather Anne nervously licked her lips, the flesh dry in the summer
heat.
The letter. It was
here. She knew it. Before the woman even opened the mailbox, she
knew. In her heart… deep down in that
secret place… she knew. Today was
September 20th, and just as it had every September 20th
for the last twenty-seven years, the letter was waiting for her… this, her
heart knew.
Heather Anne rested her hand on the small pull handle, but
did not open the box. Not yet. With her hand still on the warm, grey metal,
she turned and looked at the fields across the road. The wheat would be ready for harvesting in
another month. She turned her attention
to the cornfields in front of her and extending as far as the eye could see,
down the length of County Road 12.
Todd would expect her to work alongside him, far into the
night, more often than not, to bring in the crops… just as they had done for the last
twenty-seven years.
*
The woman wasn’t afraid of hard work; that wasn’t what gave
her pause now. She had learned over the
years that work was only as hard as one made it, and while it had been
difficult at first; she had grown into it… grown accustomed to it… accepted its
disappointments… as she had accepted the occasional pleasures it brought.
Todd had never promised an easy life out on the Kansas prairie; quite
the contrary. He told her… too many
times to count in those early years… that it was a hard life and he’d make her
a hard wife… “by Joseph!” That was one of Todd’s favorite
expressions. Good or bad… everything was
“… by Joseph!”
No, Todd had never promised an easy life. He had made only one promise to Heather Anne,
other than those in their wedding vows, and that was… “I’ll make a farmer’s wife out of you, Hetty… by Joseph, if I won’t.”
*
The caw of a blackbird, perched up on the power lines
criss-crossing the rural intersection, brought the woman out of her
reverie. Unaccountably, perhaps she
thought the sudden appearance of the crow a bad omen; Heather Anne felt a stab
of doubt. She hesitated a moment and
then tightened her fingers around the curved pull. Whispering a silent prayer… please be there… please be there… the
woman opened the mail box.
Sorting quickly through the stack of envelopes, Heather came
upon the familiar light blue envelope at the bottom of the stack. She felt her heart give a little ‘jump’ and a small lump rose in her
throat. The woman stuffed the other
letters back in the mailbox and with trembling fingers, tore open the blue
envelope.
“Dearest Heather – I
came across some old photographs the other day… from the lake? I knew… when we first met… there was
something about you… and you would never leave my heart.”
Tears came to the woman’s eyes as she read the letter,
reliving those wonderful memories… the best days of her life… before…
I must close now,
Heather; the postman will be here shortly.
I would leave you with these words from Anais Nin –
‘And the day came when
the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to
blossom.’”
When you reach the
crossroads, Heather… just follow your heart.
I’ll be there…
waiting.
K.
~*~
The woman stood in the crossroads for a long time… a
thousand thoughts swirling through her brain… feelings awakened in her that she
hadn’t felt in… that she hadn’t felt since the last letter… and the one before
that… and the one before… and…
She stood there in the hot sun, perspiration running down
the valley of her spine, looking around at the fields of corn and wheat. She thought about all the years with
Todd. She thought about the feelings
that were in her heart right now… feelings that Todd had never given her. That
you never gave me, husband! The
realization fell on her and with it… her answer.
*
“Dear husband.
I am leaving you.
The crossroads await.”
She left the note on the kitchen table.
~*~
The woman stood in the middle of the crossroads.
The blazing sun baked the barren landscape around her. She watched the bus drive away, its dusty
silver shell shimmering in the midday sun, growing smaller and smaller, until…
it was gone.
The stark wilderness of southern Australia held an incredible beauty
about it that the woman knew, instinctively, she would never tire of. With camera and brush, she would capture the
majesty around her.
Un-slinging the large duffel, the woman dropped it on the
red hardpack next to the wheeled suitcase.
Heather Anne closed her eyes and listened… taking slow, measured
breaths… and listening.
After several moments, a smile curved her lips and the woman
opened her eyes. She slung the duffel
back up on her shoulder, and grasping the handle of the suitcase in her other
hand, began walking… following the sun.
*
At first, it was just a dot in the distance. As the woman walked on, one dusty Doc Marten
in front of the other, the dot grew larger… and larger… gradually taking shape
in the form of a large, two-story Victorian house.
The woman passed under the wide wooden arch, the gravel
crunching under the soles of her boots as she walked up the driveway. Halfway up, she abandoned the suitcase… its
small plastic wheels refusing to navigate the loose gravel.
As she stepped into the long shadow of the house, the screen
door opened and a tall figure came out, adjusting a wide-brimmed hat before
stepping off the porch.
The woman stopped… waiting.
A pair of dusty Doc Martens crunched across the gravel.
“Heather Anne.” A smile the woman hadn’t seen in twenty-seven
years.
The woman’s eyes filled with tears and her heart gave that
little ‘jump’ again.
“Katherine!”
~ finis ~
© 2012 – Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw. All Rights Reserved.
Nicely told. Good description captures the beauty and despair of her daily life. Love the little twist at the end - I know, I was just assuming.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ravens. I'm glad you enjoyed the story... especially the ending.
DeleteNicely paced and a clever flourish at the end. Very enjoyable.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lewis. I'm glad you liked the story.
DeleteOpportunity knocked on Heather Anne's door 27 times. Thank goodness she let it in before it sought another. A beautiful tale of acceptance and settling, then the realization that it's never too late to go after what you really desire instead of simply holding on to what you have.
ReplyDeleteThe romantic in me says that Katherine would have never have given up. When love and hope is all you have, that is what you do...
ReplyDeleteYou love... and you hope.
I think there is a little irony in this story. It was the strength that, through all her years with Todd, ultimately gave Heather Anne what she needed to do what she did. That and the words of Anais -
"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.’”
And so it was, that Heather Anne 'blossomed'.