Freamhaigh by Donald D Allan

Author:Donald D Allan [Allan, Donald D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Freamhaigh
Publisher: Copper Penny Publishing
Published: 2018-05-30T22:00:00+00:00

By late afternoon James had the horses stabled in town and returned to the Church with some fresh food from one of the taverns. He came through the door and pulled it closed before stomping his boots clear of snow in the entranceway. He carried a large cloth bag under one arm.

Heather looked at the snow he had tramped in and scowled. “Ye'r tracking in all th' snow. Hae ye any sense at all?”

James stopped moving and scowled back at her. “I brought food. If you want any, be nicer.”

Heather strode over and snatched the food bag from James and brought it into the back kitchen. She could be heard slamming the contents down on the counter and banging the pots they had found there. James smirked and went back outside. In a moment, he could be heard shovelling more snow off the walk.

Martin, sitting at a pew praying, looked around the small church and said nothing. The church seated only about twenty people. A small altar stood at the far end with a pulpit. They had swept and dusted the main room and the back office and kitchen. Heather had opened up the small bedroom and threw the window open to air it out. The stove in the kitchen was lit and was providing enough heat to allow them to remove their outer jackets. Martin could still see his breath, but he was comfortable. Heather said she was keeping them warm, but Martin couldn’t sense it other than he didn’t need to fight the chill.

This journey is an important one, God, he prayed, with his eyes closed. Please see us safe through this. Thank you for your church, our food, and company. Please let them get along better. They’re driving me insane.

The church door opened and closed, and in a moment, someone sat beside him on the pew. Martin sat in silence, with his eyes closed in prayer, and then heard the sound of the shovel scraping snow outside. His eyes shot open, and he looked over to see who was sitting next to him.

A stranger sat beside him, dressed as a deacon. Martin gasped when he recognised him. “Deacon Bowie! It can’t be!” Martin slid down the pew to put space between himself and a man he knew had died twelve years ago.

Deacon Bowie looked amused. A toothless smile, one Martin had seen many times, stretched across his face and creased his cheeks. He was dressed in summer clothes and didn’t seem to mind the cold. He said nothing and settled back in the pew and clasped his hands on his lap. He looked peaceful.

Martin stared at the man. This is not possible! He died all those years ago as an old man. Now he looks as I knew him when he still had his youth and health. Martin watched him warily. Distantly, he could hear Heather working in the kitchen and the scrapes of the shovel outside by James.

“Deacon Bowie? Dahey? Are you real?”

Deacon Bowie nodded. “Aye, as real as you.

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