May 24, 2020
Review, Edit and Update:
Minor issues this morning. Some sentence structure improved. When there is dialogue, a lot or a little, I am often tempted to ‘fix’ the grammar or sentence structure. What I have learned is to think about the character and whether my proposed changes would fit with that personality. Martha just chatters on, so I just let her go. I quite like this character.
Martha
Martha had her desktop computer open for two hours and she wasn’t about to turn it off yet. Her grandchildren had pushed her ‘laugh button’ over and over again, just as she had pushed theirs. Martha hoped they never lost their 'laugh buttons'. Easter Bunny Ben was hopping about. Little Chick Abigail just stood still and went ‘Peep. Peep’. They wore the costumes she made for them for the cancelled school Easter play. Martha was certain they were playing their roles just perfectly. Fashioning a broken egg shell so Abby could put her little legs through it so she could walk around to peck and peep, had been a challenge. That egg shell had really tackled her figuring out skills. But she kept all sorts of things in her sewing room at home. Old pieces of plastic, cardboard, ribbons from Christmas presents, broken toys that couldn’t be mended and buttons. Jars of buttons. There were many more things, but unlike the pantry at the Beaufort mansion, she didn’t keep an inventory. She just knew where everything was. When she was making the Easter bunny costume, she found the Bunny ears from some other Easter play for her daughter Joanie, Ben’s mother. All she had to do was use a piece of white fleece fabric for the onesie and pop a pompom on his backside. Joanie drew a bunny face with whiskers and nose and Ben became a movie star. For Little Chick, she pulled out some bright yellow seersucker cotton for her onesie, found some pieces of orange plastic for the beak and used some of the yellow Christmas ribbons to tie it on and little Abigail became another movie star. Martha beamed. The two of them looked so cute. Still chuckling, a tear, or maybe two, slipped from her already sparkling violet eyes. Ben hopped and Abigail peeped. Martha glanced at the kitchen clock.
“Oh my goodness. Look at the time. I told Joanie ~ that’s my daughter you know ~ that I had my supper ready. Well, my supper is ready, so I'll set my place here at the desk. I guess I can do that while she takes the children to get changed before their supper. We’re going to have supper together but not really together. We’ll sit down at our tables and say grace ~ we won’t be able to hold hands. I think it’s Ben’s turn to say grace.”
You might think there was someone else in Martha’s home with her, but no, if no one is there, she just talks to the computer. If someone ever is there, they wouldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway. For her supper, Martha had made a small ham and a small dish of scalloped potatoes for herself. Joanie made the same, but a bit more, for her small family. They both had tulips from their gardens on their tables. It was the closest they could come to being together on this Easter. They did miss going to church, but they found a church service on TV that they watched together but in their own homes.
“The one Easter that I don’t have to be organizing for some party for Mrs. Beaufort and here we all are. Stuck in our own homes. I feel like I’m on house arrest!”
Martha chattered on to Joanie between bites of her supper. She would stop every now and then, interrupt herself to say how delicious it all tasted. “Did I ever tell you that Cook and I have a friendly little fuss about who the best cook is? Oh course, I know that Cook is and that’s why I’m only the Housekeeper. But I know one thing, and I’ll never tell Cook, but my pumpkin pie is much better. Cook has never spiced her pumpkin with the right balance of cloves and cinnamon. Did you get the pie I left you, Joanie? If you didn’t then that neighbourhood cat or one of the dogs made off with it.”
“Yes, I did get it mom, thanks. I came right out after you left and brought it in the house.” Joanie was used to her mother’s storytelling, so just let her go on. If she had something important to say or add, she chose her timing carefully. “What is it Ben?”
“I want to ask Grandma something." He didn't wait for his mother's reply.... "Grandma, did you clean up your plate. Because if you didn’t, you can’t have your pie. See ~ my plate is real clean.” Ben held his plate up to the computer camera. “And Abby is just eating her last bite. Mom……”
“Yes, honey, I’m finishing up my supper. Why don’t you go and bring the pie over to the table. By the time you’re back, my plate will be cleaned right up.”
Martha really had no idea how much of a chatterbox she had become in the long days that she spent at home. She talked to herself about what she was going to do and when. She would hum when she got occupied with sewing or cleaning or clearing out those cupboard drawers she'd been neglecting for so long. She was used to having Cook and Brigitte to talk to when she was at work. Digby was not very conversational at all. But he is a gentleman. Not the flirty kind. Just doing his work, keeping the Upstairs running smoothly. And then there was this Upstairs and Downstairs. Martha shook her head and her otherwise pleasant face creased with a frown. It sounds like we’re in that TV series and we’re definitely not as stuck up and know it all as that lot. We just go about our business and when it’s time to go home, we do. None of this sitting around and gossiping about what’s going on Upstairs.
As Martha was clearing up her dishes from supper, her thoughts about this Easter were that it was really not too bad. Especially considering all the troubles so many others were having theses days. She didn’t like listening to much on the radio about that nasty virus, but she did every couple of days just to keep up. She was used to ‘directing traffic’ as she called it, with the staff and helping Joanie out with the kids. She was getting restless. Her house was cleaner and tidier that it had been in a long time. Martha looked at herself in the mirror as she was getting ready for bed. What did Abby say about my face? ‘It’s crumpling, Grandma.’ Well I’m not that old, a few years past Mrs. Beaufort. Well more than a few years. Abby just patted my face and told me it was alright. That she loves me anyway.
In her bedroom, Martha turned her bedside lamp on, turned back the bedcovers, propped up her pillows and got into bed. Always a reader, she opened her book for her nightly read. Still reading at midnight, she yawned, put her book down and said out loud “Lights out.”
“If anyone or anything tries to curse or kill the Goodness at the Center
of all things, it will just keep coming back to life. Forever Easter.
~ David Housholder, The Blackberry Bush
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