Melody Markett's Crash Course on Life: The Lutheran Ladies Circle, #4 by Kris Knorr

Author:Kris Knorr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Religious Fiction, Humor, Death & Dying, Family Relationships
Publisher: Morning West Publishing
Published: 2016-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

20. Goose

December, 1943

Melody

THE NIGHT WAS long and studded with waves of nausea and cramping. At some point, Melody pulled the deer skin off the back wall and folded the stiff hide around her coat for more warmth. If she listened hard, she was sure she could hear low grunts and panting. Or maybe that was the wind. Or her. She didn’t leave The Buck.

~*~

A knock jarred her from scratchy sleep. It was still dark outside the knotholes. She stared and listened. Maybe the bears were pushing on the privy?

Knock, knock. Knuckles against wood. At the top of the door.

“Lawrence?” she whispered. Only the wind answered. She straightened her clothes, looking for a weapon. Her numb fingers rolled a Life magazine into a tube. She was gonna thrash the living daylights outta him. Taking a breath, she cracked the door an inch.

Three dark-skinned people, broad cheeks and long, loose hair, stood quietly. Opening the door farther revealed the man, twenty-something, leaning on a walking stick painted with animals. He nodded a silent greeting. A short woman, her face folded in wrinkles, wore a heavy poncho and moccasins. She held up a thermos.

A girl about Melody’s age, wearing galoshes and a rain slicker held her lantern higher. “This is Florence. I’m Eliza. That’s Peter. Do you need help?”

As Melody stepped out of The Buck, her knees gave way from sitting so long. The young man and woman caught her. The old woman poured hot broth into the thermos lid. “Drink.”

It was bitter and burned all the way down, but she drank all of it, the cup shaking in her hands. “Thank you. There’s a man around here somewhere. He may be hurt or dead.”

The old woman hooked her thumbs together, waving her fingers into wings as she shook her head. “Like a goose. He has flown.”

~*~

When Melody awakened, she was in a narrow, low-ceilinged compartment full of shadows. Furs covered the walls. Florence sat next to her, weaving a basket in the candlelight. She whispered, “Sleep.” Melody’s heart obeyed.

When she stirred again, Florence was still there. A tear slipped from Melody’s eye as she touched the old woman’s knee to see if she was real. Scenes of the ignoble ending of her pregnancy with cramps and hemorrhaging in The Buck fogged through her mind.

She let herself cry. Mama wasn’t there to stop her or scold, “Life hasn’t drained you dry yet. You ain’t got nothing to whine about.”

A sob shook her chest. It was okay to let it out. The Wittes or the respectable families she couldn’t fit into weren’t around to judge.

She didn’t have to hide in the baggage car or women’s lounge on the train, wiping her eyes and plastering on a smile if she heard someone coming. The emptiness she’d felt after exchanging cheap intimacy filled her. She was free to bawl.

Caged through the night with her memories and dark thoughts, she couldn’t stop shedding tears.

Florence took Melody’s hand. “Seasons move on. We’re almost through the dark.”

At the next

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