Whiter Pastures: (Sweet and Sassy Historical) (An Icebound Tale) by Xina Marie Uhl

Author:Xina Marie Uhl [Uhl, Xina Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: XC Publishing.net
Published: 2017-07-03T16:00:00+00:00

The sun shone orange at midnight. Hannah had gone to bed some hours ago, but Florance made herself stay up, courtesy of an extra cup of Earl Grey tea. It seemed obvious that whatever Handy was doing in secret had caused him to run afoul of shadowy international powers. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to wait to carry out her assignment until she discovered his crime.

A crowd gathered in front of the sailcloth, chatting and smiling. Events of all kinds were looked forward to with great anticipation since entertainment was mostly lacking here at perhaps the harshest base on the planet. Florance waited at the edge of the group, which must have contained almost everyone on the outpost, busying herself with rubbing her gloved hands together and straightening the moose fur hat atop her head. The rags she had tied into her usually limp and unresponsive hair had succeeded in creating a mass of rather fetching curls, if she did say so herself.

She checked the brass watch she wore on the chain around her neck. At 12:03 a.m., Handy emerged from the officers' quarters and strode briskly to the sailcloth-concealed area. Cheeks beaming and arms spread out with pride, he announced, "Behold, my fellow Antarcticans! You have been far too long without a ministry of culture. I can only assume that His Majesty's Royal Armed Forces took note of this fact and reacted appropriately with horror and disbelief. As such, they determined to remedy this state of affairs and assigned yours truly to that task. Stand back, if you would, ladies and gentlemen."

Handy deftly removed the nails with the end of his hammer, and with a flourish, he flung back the sailcloth.

The crowd gave a low murmuring. There before them stood a bear on its hind legs, crafted almost entirely from ice. It must have been ten feet tall. Two round pieces of coal marked its eyes, and small, carefully sharpened sticks of wood served as claws. It was frozen in mid-lunge, with gaping mouth and a fearsome posture, like a Greek marble statue.

Rosenberry, the senior meteorologist, squinted at it. "It's rather large. I daresay as large as some of the polar bears I saw swimming about the Arctic waters back in '98."

Martin, a mechanic who smelled perpetually of sour milk, scratched under his chin. "I don't think it's going to stay upright for very long. We get a devil of a wind here, Mr. Handy."

"And if we continue to have hot days like today," someone else said, "It will melt right away!"

Florance found herself standing in front of the group. She didn't remember moving forward. "That's not the point! It's here now. Let's enjoy it."

The blank faces of her fellows greeted her.

"Everything fades. Everything gets blown over and snowed on and melted. Everything changes. You and I most of all. Do you not know that?" she shrilled on.

Surprise. Quiet.

"The purpose of art is not practicality! Nor is it permanence. It is here now, and we are here now, and it is for our enjoyment.

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