Waiting


The precipitation was more ice than rain. Snow threatened. Ted pressed a hand to the window.

"Waiting for Santy Claus?"

Ted wheeled around. Shelia. Antlers on her head. A bracelet of bells that jingled as she reached for his wrist, searching for a pulse.

"How much time have I got?"

"I ain't the doctor, honey. Ain't even a nurse."

"Will I last until Christmas?"


Her voice softened. "You want me to call someone?"

"Do you think you've spent your time here wisely?"

Shelia snapped her gum, considering. "I got me a man I love and three beautiful children who are kind and loving. We ain't never going to be millionaires, but our bills are paid and we got a roof over our heads. I guess we been pretty wise, me and him."

He smiled. "Merry Christmas, Shelia."

"Don't be saying that yet, Reverend. We got two weeks yet, and I got some shopping to do after payday."

The problem with being a pastor was that you only heard of the troubles. People called at all hours of the night, talking of divorce, unemployment, illness. But once the trouble had been resolved, people drifted away.

Ted wouldn't have minded knowing that his words had helped; wouldn't have minded knowing the afters of the lives of people he'd counseled.

Shame on you, Ted, his father, the great Reverend Williams, would have said, contending once again, that Ted was a sinner. When his father'd caught Ted staring at a woman in church, he told his son he ought to pluck his eye out. Instead Ted had married her.

They'd had three children, sent them all to college, and always, until Margaret's death, had a roof over their heads. They paid their bills on time. 

His father told him he was a failure.

Shelia smiled. "You look beat. Want me to help you into bed?"

He nodded.

As Shelia brought the blankets up, Ted remembered Margaret's last words. I'll come back for you.

Ted would be waiting.

This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge. The word was pluck.

Labels: ,

Writing in the Margins, Bursting at the Seams: Waiting

Monday, November 25, 2013

Waiting


The precipitation was more ice than rain. Snow threatened. Ted pressed a hand to the window.

"Waiting for Santy Claus?"

Ted wheeled around. Shelia. Antlers on her head. A bracelet of bells that jingled as she reached for his wrist, searching for a pulse.

"How much time have I got?"

"I ain't the doctor, honey. Ain't even a nurse."

"Will I last until Christmas?"


Her voice softened. "You want me to call someone?"

"Do you think you've spent your time here wisely?"

Shelia snapped her gum, considering. "I got me a man I love and three beautiful children who are kind and loving. We ain't never going to be millionaires, but our bills are paid and we got a roof over our heads. I guess we been pretty wise, me and him."

He smiled. "Merry Christmas, Shelia."

"Don't be saying that yet, Reverend. We got two weeks yet, and I got some shopping to do after payday."

The problem with being a pastor was that you only heard of the troubles. People called at all hours of the night, talking of divorce, unemployment, illness. But once the trouble had been resolved, people drifted away.

Ted wouldn't have minded knowing that his words had helped; wouldn't have minded knowing the afters of the lives of people he'd counseled.

Shame on you, Ted, his father, the great Reverend Williams, would have said, contending once again, that Ted was a sinner. When his father'd caught Ted staring at a woman in church, he told his son he ought to pluck his eye out. Instead Ted had married her.

They'd had three children, sent them all to college, and always, until Margaret's death, had a roof over their heads. They paid their bills on time. 

His father told him he was a failure.

Shelia smiled. "You look beat. Want me to help you into bed?"

He nodded.

As Shelia brought the blankets up, Ted remembered Margaret's last words. I'll come back for you.

Ted would be waiting.

This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge. The word was pluck.

Labels: ,

15 Comments:

At November 25, 2013 at 9:28 AM , OpenID ignoringsoundadvice said...

Love it!

 
At November 25, 2013 at 7:07 PM , Blogger Ruby Manchanda said...

Great work

 
At November 25, 2013 at 11:32 PM , Blogger Trifecta said...

Wonderful write, capturing once again the emotion in your characters. Don't forget to come back and vote!

 
At November 26, 2013 at 3:43 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thanks so much!

 
At November 26, 2013 at 3:43 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thank you, Ruby!

 
At November 26, 2013 at 3:43 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thanks, Trifecta!

 
At November 26, 2013 at 11:00 AM , Blogger Valerie Boersma said...

Each week I can't wait to read your work, Kelly.

Once again, I'm in awe.

 
At November 26, 2013 at 6:43 PM , Anonymous steph said...

How do you do it? We all have off days once in a awhile.. but not you. Your writing is so consistently beautiful. And from one line of dialog we get the whole picture of Sheila. That's talent. Great piece!

 
At November 27, 2013 at 4:52 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thanks so much, Valerie!

 
At November 27, 2013 at 4:52 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thanks, Steph. Loved your piece this week.

 
At November 27, 2013 at 6:45 AM , Blogger Flippa Bird said...

I really love this piece... You have such a way with words that I felt as if I were watching the scene, not reading it.

 
At November 27, 2013 at 8:53 AM , OpenID momosapien said...

This feels like such a complete story - so beautiful and well written. Excellent work!

 
At November 27, 2013 at 11:41 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thanks so much for reading! Looking forward to reading the entries now...

 
At November 27, 2013 at 11:44 AM , Blogger Kelly Garriott Waite said...

Thanks so much!

 
At November 28, 2013 at 6:22 AM , Blogger Draug said...

This is quite sad. You packed a lot into these 333 words!

 

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