In the beginning of the week, there was an epic battle between Bella Tuna Todd and myself to save the life of a lizard that she brought into my room and then released...
Which I toiled to trap into a mason jar, the same of which was featured in last week's blog with a crab leg sticking out of it.
Stood on the lookout with the lions,
And had some snacks with baby giraffes and a silver back.
Currently my fluffy Bella Tuna is running around the house as if her tail is on fire, and with the speeds she's reaching, there certainly looks like smoke following her trails.
Now that the grey weather is settling in after a crazy hot week, it's time again to settle down for a good read. On to Providence!
Chapter 17: In the Beekeeper's Care
In the wake of morning Ms.
Grace rolled over only to nearly fall off the bed. Her upper body popped up,
catching herself from said fate, which in turn caused her back to ache. She was
equally as sore as yesterday, but that was not what moved her from dreams. Her
skin was perturbed by the miniscule morning breeze slipping under the window,
so the lady moved to cuddle closer to the man beside her, but alas, he was not
there. Ms. Grace sighed. What could she have expected? Well, she knew what she
hoped, but that may stay within her private thoughts alone. However, Mr. Tamrin
did not leave her side easily or without a mark. On the bedside table Ms. Grace
quickly found a little note with her name written on the face.
The lady smiled like a
child finding her gifts on Christmas as she sat up properly to read the little
folded bit of parchment. It took a few adjustments of the distance between the
letter and her face before she could read:
My dear Ms. Grace – I hope you slept
well and that your back is feeling much better. I am sorry to leave you so
early, but I must help prepare the church for my sermon today, which will begin
at its normal morning time, God willing. You do not have to come to church if
you are not feeling well, I highly doubt that anyone would hold it against you,
I mean, our Savior might, but no one of Providence would stoop so low.
After church I have a surprise in
mind for you, but I cannot tell you or give you any hints because what fun
would that be?
-T.
Ms. Grace’s heart could
hardly stand how adorable this man was to her. Feeling well or not, the school
teacher did not care. The woman leapt from bed and she immediately dug through
the trunk, which was full of her new dresses. She was able to find long
under-wear that she would discover upon putting it on was two sizes too big and
one lovely dark green velvet overdress that was one size too small. In the room
brightly lit from the sun peeking through the clouds, Ms. Grace could only
stare at herself in the mirror with little enthusiasm. She could barely breathe
because of the overdress’ tightness, but at least she did not have to wear a
corset today, for the dress was tight enough. Finding that there would be
little she could do to alter the dress at the present, Ms. Grace darted to the
reverend’s washroom to clean her face and hands. While she was in the small
room staring at her reflection ponderously, racking her brains to find a creative
style in which to arrange her hair, the most beautiful sound penetrated the
walls of the reverend’s home. ‘Twas the town’s musician tuning his violin for
the morning service in the church.
“Oh, how marvelous!” Ms. Grace thought out
loud as she twisted her hair into a humble crown framing her face. “Now it is Christmas,” she whispered to
her reflection.
Ms. Grace ran out of the
beekeeper’s home in time to join the herd of people walking towards church. The
second she stepped out the door until the moment the service started, Ms. Grace
was bombarded with questions about yesterday. The school teacher would have
been overwhelmed by the excitement caused her house’s demise, save for the wave
of thrill she was riding after having spent the night curled beside her amore.
Christmas service was
packed. Not a pew had any room for an exceptionally late body to wriggle
within. Due to her lateness, Ms. Grace took a seat in the row of pews farthest
away from the raised pulpit. This grieved her greatly, but at least back here
she would be able to smile and glow without too many people staring at her. She
listened intently to the reverend’s words, which flowed to her over the heads
of nearly every citizen of Providence. As intent as she was to keep her head
focused on the birth of the Savior and the story of the spiders, Ms. Grace
could not help to remember when she briefly woke near dawn to find the reverend
and her so inappropriately wrapped around each other as though they were
married. He was so handsome and so at peace by her side. She blushed to think
that she was lying half naked in a bed with a man to whom she was not legally
or religiously approved to lay beside. However, she knew that the reverend was
an honorable man, which was undoubtedly why she woke with all the blankets
pulled all the way to the nave of her neck this morning.
From the pulpit, the
reverend spoke beautifully. Mr. Tamrin was a remarkable public speaker. He was
able to speak directly to every one of his listeners. His eyes would glisten and
his face held so soft an expression that the man almost appeared to be on a
completely different plain of happiness than everyone else. And yet the plain
seemed to open to all who heard his words. Today he was beaming like the old
reverend again. There was much reason for him to be rejoicing. He opened with
his traditional story of the golden spiders, which led into the homily:
“My friends, like those
three spiders who’s perspectives were turned to see the light in the darkness,
and like the shepherds and the three wise men who bestowed gifts upon an infant
at the beckoning of a star, we all
were able to open our eyes and our hearts to give without thought or want of
thanks, whatever we could give to our neighbor who was in need.”
Everyone knew that Mr.
Tamrin was talking about Ms. Grace and none of them until that moment even so
much as realized that what they did to help her yesterday actually was noble
and very easy. (Ms. Grace did not know how she felt about being an analogy to
the Savior when she was daring to think about scandalous things in church.)
And so the service carried
on with the reverend convincing everyone what he thought only yesterday people
were ignoring: “Love and cherish every gift and every passing smile, for it is
the little things that make life worth the troubles and the messes we weave,
but all that matters is what we learn from our giving, instead of what we gain.
And here in our own Providence we are truly blessed to be one family through
our community. We are never alone, for we are always among loved ones. That,”
Mr. Tamrin concluded, “Is the true joy
of our Christmas day.”
The Christmas mass ended
shortly after eleven thirty that morning. The children all went running out the
front doors of the building to declare their independence and to rush home to
play with their goodies. An hour and a half really was an awfully long time for
the little ones to keep still, but bless them for the entire youth-population
that attended behaved remarkably well in mass today. The adults migrated to the
back room of the church for a small and informal Christmas gathering. Tea from
Ms. Huff’s shop was served along with biscuits from the bakery.
The small hall in which the
adults crammed was loud and warm from their talking and their body heat. The
women and the men alike were wishing each other happy Christmas’ and they were
discussing the night before and the joys of the morning.
Ms. Grace stood by the
window to keep the skin of her back cool as she too chatted merrily with her
old circle of friends. Ms. Grace was her cheery self again. The women could not
believe all that had happened, but they certainly loved to hear about her
evening with the reverend. Of course, she edited out the part that he looked at
her back and that they spent the night beside each other, but she did say that
the man was the best host in Providence. And while the women joked that they
were all proud of Ms. Grace for not waking up beside him (as none would have ever
believed otherwise), the reverend watched from afar.
Mr. Tamrin was doing his
reverendly rounds after church, walking from group to group. He happily wished
every person he passed a happy Christmas, shaking their hands or bowing his
head. He was his old cheery self again. His words and his expressions were light,
almost triumphant. No one knew why exactly, but a scene secretly kept playing
in his head over and over again: waking in Ms. Grace’s embrace; reluctantly yet
delicately slipping out from her arms; covering her like a good gentleman with
the blankets to fortify her virtue; and finally stealing a soft kiss to her
temple to secretly bid her good morning ere he left for church. It was exactly
as he had imagined what his married life with her would be like. The thought alone
made his cheeks a little pinker.
In the packed hall with his
wife and Mrs. Huff, Mr. Winford looked as though he had a sweet little secret
in his heart. He saw how the reverend and the teacher glowed - and he could not
be happier for them.
Another hour passed before
every last person save for Ms. Grace and Mr. Tamrin were left in the church’s
backroom. They stood on opposite ends of the building from one another. Ms.
Grace finished helping to clean the last of the teapots for Mrs. Huff who left
to check on the cats. Mr. Tamrin was locking the doors to the storage room
where the church’s few relics were kept. The pair tacitly walked into the main hall
of the church together as they prepared to leave.
“Are you ready to go now,
Ms. Grace?” Mr. Tamrin asked. He pretended to be ensuring that all of the
church’s windows were closed from his post in the aisle when in fact he was
silently admiring how elegant Ms. Grace looked in green.
Wiping her hands on a damp
white cloth Ms. Grace gave the reverend a curt nod. “Yes, dear sir,” she said
as she came beside him in the aisle. “Quite.” She wanted nothing more than to
relax with him in the comfort of his home. Her back had a constant throbbing
pain, which was more pressingly noticed by her senses than before.
The gentleman offered his
arm to Ms. Grace and the pair walked up the aisle together out of the church.
At about five steps down said aisle the pair looked at each other and
sheepishly darted their eyes back to the church’s doors. They both felt rather
silly, but it was a good feeling to be walking up the aisle together.
During the short walk to
the reverend’s house, Mr. Tamrin asked Ms. Grace if she slept well and if her
back was feeling at all better.
“I’m afraid not,” she
shamefully answered. She originally answered affirmatively to both questions,
but the gentleman knew better than to trust Ms. Grace on this subject. Her
stubbornness and her incredibly high tolerance for pain naturally made the
reverend suspicious when she said that she was feeling “right as rain.”
The reverend felt resolute
in his idea for the surprise to which he alluded in his note. He knew what had
to be done, but there was a certain manner in which it had to be performed if
his company were to be accepted. When the pair made it inside the reverend’s
house, the gentleman immediately asked, “Do you think that you are well enough
to ride?”
Ms. Grace thought the
question to be rather odd. People in Providence usually did so little
travelling outside of the town that hardly anyone owned a horse. There was no
need to travel by horse; everything anyone could need was readily at hand, so
the question of being fair enough to ride was rightfully puzzling. As she
untied the rope holding up her new black overcoat Ms. Grace wearily answered,
“I suppose? Are we going somewhere outside of town? Is that the surprise?”
The reverend had already
begun to head to his room to change out from his Christmas chasuble and tab
collared shirt, but he sharply turned back to peak his head into the kitchen
where Ms. Grace was located, “What sort of secret leaves you with any clues?”
“You’re maddening, do you
know that?” Ms. Grace shouted after the man as again he disappeared down the
hall.
It was his point to be
maddening. Throughout the night and the morning as he prepared for church, he
could do nothing but think of his conversation with Mr. Winford yesterday. Mr.
Tamrin had made up his mind. Today was his last chance to do everything in his
power to convince Ms. Grace that she was so in love with him and that he was so
in love with her that surely they would be able to find some way to solve the
school’s financial problems together without the blasted Higleys. Her house
falling apart, however great a tragedy, happened for a reason. Mr. Tamrin was
convinced that she was meant to stay
with him so that he could win back her heart. By hook or by crook, Mr. Tamrin
was not about to sit by and watch a brat like Brian Higley take his lady. The
reverend’s heart was galvanized to action at last.
The reverend quickly
changed into clothes suitable for travel on a cool day. True, today was much
warmer than yesterday, but the sky was threatening rain. Mr. Tamrin dug through
his one set of drawers in attempt to find a scarf to offer Ms. Grace in case it
became much colder. He did not want the poor girl to come down with a cold on
top of everything else. Throwing the somewhat old woolen scarf in the bend of
his arm, the reverend scurried back into the hall, but his altruistic heart was
distracted by a jolting thought. There was one last thing he absolutely could
not forget. Mr. Tamrin went running to the thin wardrobe in the room. He swung
open the oak doors and dug through the jacket’s pockets that he wore yesterday.
The small gift he removed glimmered in the palm of his hand scornfully. It was
offended for almost being left behind. He kissed the ring (more for luck than
as an apology). He had nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain.
The gentleman went running
out to the kitchen to find Ms. Grace sitting in the booth waiting for him.
“All set to go wherever we
are going?” she sweetly asked as she stood.
“Yes,” the reverend succinctly
replied, “but here, I want you to drink this first.” In his whirlwind of
scurrying around this morning, he had made a drink from honey and stored herbs that
would help to ease the ferocity of her pain. He handed to her a glass filled
with a thick and vile looking liquid.
“What is it?” she asked
with a grimace.
He merely chuckled and
said, “Don’t worry, it’s uglier than it tastes. It’ll help make you more
comfortable – it’ll take the swelling down.”
Ms. Grace was uncertain
that the squished-grass colored mud would taste like anything normal, but she
was terribly uncomfortable. With her lip curled she raised the glass. “Cheers,”
she dryly toasted. The reverend watched with a smile, for he knew that she
would be extremely surprised. She closed her eyes and held the bottom of the
glass high as the dreadful looking liquid slowly slid down the glass to her
tongue. The medicine fell into her mouth like a thick mud would fall from a
shovel. However, her body did not writhe or convulse from disgust. On the
contrary – the drink was cool, refreshing, and it taste of nothing but rich honey.
“Did the bees share this
recipe with you?” she asked as she gulped down the rest.
Mr. Tamrin only smiled and
after she finished drinking the medicine, he was quick to help drape her cloak
back over her shoulders. He handed her the scarf, which she lazily threw over
the back of her neck as the reverend more than less scooted her out the door.
“Are we in some sort of
rush?” Ms. Grace asked, finding Mr. Tamrin’s scattered behavior to be curious.
Mr. Tamrin was already
saddling his horse by the time Ms. Grace posed her inquiry. The gentleman
briefly explained that he did not want to be caught in the rain. This was true
of course, but it was not his real reason for making such haste. He was anxious
as to what exactly would happen when they arrived where they were going, but he
would not yet share their intended destination with Ms Grace.
The old horse was saddled
and ready for the road. Ms. Grace doubted that she would be able to get up onto
the horse’s back with her own feeling so wretched, but Mr. Tamrin was one step
ahead of trying for that fact. The gentleman placed his hand on the horse’s snout
and something remarkable happened. Without any obvious command, the horse
kneeled down for her.
“That was extraordinary,”
the lady said as she sat side saddled on the horse. She had little experience
with riding horses, but Mrs. Huff was sure that all of the girls in town knew
never to straddle, for that was the farthest thing from being lady-like
imaginable. “However did you train your horse to do that with just a touch?”
The reverend dismissed the
compliment with an airy comment as he again gave the horse a command with a
touch. Ms. Grace was flabbergasted by this but if the reverend was so humble
about his gift of being honed into nature through his birthright as an aritoir
that he it did not deserve a second’s thought. He was used to the horse doing
what he thought without verbal commands, for it was one of the gifts Mr. Tamrin
had as an aritoire.
As the reverend began to
lead his horse down the western road out of Providence, Ms. Grace asked again simply
to annoy. “So where are we going?”
~*~*~
Where on earth will Mr. Tamrin take Ms. Grace? Tune in next week to see!
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S. Faxon
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