In the morning, Wilson and Aella broke their fast with Devon. Near the end of the meal, Wilson cleared his throat. "I shall head out to the farm today to meet with my sister. Aella, would you stay here with Devon?" he asked.
Aella wasn't a bit surprised. Based on what she had heard from Devon the previous evening, it would be an awkward family reunion. "I've got a few purchases I need to make anyway," said Aella by way of agreement. She turned to Devon. "Where is the best chandlery in town?" she asked.
"That would be old Mason. He has the best goods and the best prices," answered Devon as he chewed on a piece of bacon.
Wilson stood from the table. "Well, thanks for your hospitality, Devon," he said. "Aella, I shall be back sometime before dinner. Please don't get in any more fights."
They all laughed a bit at that.
Wilson grabbed his gear and walked out of the tavern. Bright sunshine greeted him. As he readied his horse, his mind raced. Would his sister even be pleased to see him? It was unlikely Grace would greet him with much enthusiasm. He had been gone for over three years. He had left against her wishes, even though their mother had supported his decision. And now, under bad circumstances, he was back. Even though he dreaded the meeting, he was excited to see his sister again. There had been good times as well as bad.
The road to the farm hadn't changed much. It all seemed a bit smaller. As he rode his mount over the last hill, his heart raced a bit to see the old home. It was home after all. He stopped his mount and looked down into the valley. Sunlight streamed over the hills and lit up the green fields. A few sheep meandered in the north pasture. The house was exactly as he remembered it. A small brick house with three rooms and a kitchen. Memories of warm food and laughter ran through his mind. He shook his head slightly and smiled crookedly at the memories. Then he slapped the reins lightly. "Gee-ha," he said.
His mount trotted down the hill. Before he arrived at the white picket fence, his sister crossed the threshold and stood there, framed in the doorway. She looked older, thought Wilson.
He jumped down from his horse and walked up to her. "You look older," she said.
He laughed. "I was just thinking the same thing about you," he said.
She reached out to him and then they were hugging and crying.
"I miss her Wil," she said.
His heart hurt so bad he couldn't speak. He just nodded. After a few minutes they broke apart.
"Come on in," Grace said, "I've been expecting you."
Wilson walked in the door and everything felt as it had several years ago. The kitchen table, a well-worn cherry table his father had built so many years ago, still sat in one corner of the room surrounded by four matching chairs. It had been one of his mother's most prized possessions. A cheerful fire crackled in the hearth. And in the air, Wilson could smell almond and cherry.
"You remembered!" he said.
Grace smiled. "I know when you last left, we didn't see eye to eye." She looked over at him and caught his eyes. "I'm sorry about that Wil."
"So am I," he agreed. "I mean, I'm sorry about the things I said."
"Well," Grace said, " Let's just let bygones be bygones. Shall we?"
Wilson's smiled at the new-found peace. "In the end, family is everything, isn't it?" he asked.
"That it is. That it is," Grace agreed. "There are some hot cherry puffs just about ready to come out of the pan. Would you like one?"
Wilson laughed. "Since the moment I walked in I've wanted one." He smiled at his sister. "You always made the best puffs. I never wanted to hurt mom's feelings. But you were always the better cook."
Grace laughed as she reached into the stove and pulled out the puffs. Once she had them on her cooking table, she quickly sprinkled chopped almonds across the top and then drizzled a sugar glaze across them.
Wilson licked his lips in anticipation. "Remember how we would go to the market every Saturday and sell your puffs."
"All I remember is that if I wasn't careful, several of them would disappear before we even made it to the market."
They both laughed at the memory. Grace brought a tray with several puffs on it. "Help yourself," she said as she sat down. They both took one and slowly ate them. The delicious tart cherry filling blended perfectly with the almonds and sugar glaze on the top. The flaky crust was just the perfect amount of toasted.
As Wilson reached for a second puff with a small, slightly guilty smile at Grace, he heard approaching horses. "Expecting company?" he asked.
She stood up and walked over to the window that faced the village road. "I'm not, but it looks like there are four of them. Friends of yours, maybe?" she asked.
Wilson stood up and walked over to stand by Grace. By the time he got there, the horsemen were already down the small hill.
They arrived in front of the gate with a clatter. As they reined up, Wilson groaned.
"Definitely not friends," said Grace.
The Black Oak Sword
Chapter 1: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Chapter 2: Part 1 , Part 2
Chapter 3: Part 1 , Part 2,Part 3
Chapter 4:Part 1,Part 2
Chapter 5: Part 1
Chapter 6: Part 1, Part 2
Chapter 7: Part 1, Part 2
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
© 2017, Stone Golem Publishing, All rights reserved--no part of this may be used without express written consent.
**All pictures used are labeled for reuse. They come from Pixabay
