Faithfully Yours. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ chanted, racing out the door and down the street. They could hear his bellows of laughter ricochet back and forth along the narrow avenue.

      “Of all the nerve! Arthur Johnson, you know very well that child stole a chocolate bar from you,” Charity accused, casting the grocer a black look. “Why did you let the little hoodlum get away with it? Didn’t you see it clearly enough?”

      “Oh, I saw it, Charity. My eyes are still pretty good, and that mirror really helps,” Art chuckled. “But this isn’t the first time I chose to do nothing about it. Not right now. Anyway, that chocolate bar will eat away at his conscience all afternoon. He’s not getting away with anything.” He pressed her shoulder gently as if to soothe away her indignation. “Now, dear lady, what can I do for my best customer?”

      Charity preened a little at the complimentary tone, straightening her shoulders as she blinked up at him girlishly.

      “Well, Arthur, I’m having guests for lunch today, and I want to serve ice cream. This may be one of the last really warm days we have this fall, you know.”

      “I see.” Art led the way over to the freezers and tugged out a small round tub. “I have your favorite right back here, Charity. Double chocolate fudge pecan.” He beamed down at her

      “Why, I can’t believe you remembered. It’s ages since I had this. It won’t do for Hope, though,” Charity said, grimacing. “She’s always watching her fat content, and this is bound to send it over the moon.” A tinge of frustration edged her words as she shoved the container back into the freezer. “Maybe we’d better have sherbet instead. A nice savory lemon.”

      “Charity, Hope Langford is so scrawny she could do with a little fattening up. Besides, you know you love chocolate. And this is the light variety with one-third less fat It’s really quite delicious.” Art glanced at his hands self-consciously. “I tried it myself last week.”

      “You ate chocolate ice cream, with your cholesterol level?” Charity frowned severely. “You need a woman to look after you, Arthur.”

      They spent twenty minutes discussing their various health ailments before Charity strolled out the door carrying the container of chocolate ice cream and grinning from ear to ear.

      Two and a half hours later Charity was welcoming her two friends to her cosy home and a scrumptious lunch.

      “Isn’t it lovely out today.” That was her friend Faith Rempel who simply never had a bad day. “I can’t imagine more perfect weather for walking.”

      “I thought Jeremy didn’t like you walking all over town,” Hope Langford questioned. “Has he changed his mind?” Hope’s voice was soft and shy, much like the woman herself. At fifty-six, she was the youngest in their group and much concerned over her friend’s propensity to accidents. She had, at first, greeted the arrival of Faith’s nephew, Jeremy Nivens, with relief.

      “Oh, Jeremy’s far too busy with school just now. He’s trying so hard to make a good impression with this first principalship. The dear boy hasn’t been hovering nearly as much this week.” Faith brushed the permed lock of gray hair off her forehead absently as she stared at the other two. “I haven’t seen him for three days,” she told them cheerfully. “Or was it four? Let’s see now…”

      Charity laughed gaily.

      “Oh, Faith,” she murmured, leading them out to her small patio and the gaily set table. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what day it is again? I declare that memory of yours is—”

      “Just fine,” cut in Hope quietly. She frowned at Charity. “I think she does wonderfully well. And if we’re talking about Jeremy, I don’t think Gillian is particularly impressed with him. She says he’s very old-fashioned.”

      They sat around the table, munching on the low-fat ham sandwiches and crunchy green salad as they discussed the newest educators at the local elementary school.

      “Well,” Charity murmured. “You must admit your niece is very advanced in some of her ideas. Why, just the other day I heard Gillian complaining about the textbooks. Said they were too passé to be any good!” Her white eyebrows rose with indignation. “We’ve had those textbooks for years, as you well know, Hope Langford.”

      Hope hid her smile behind her napkin. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was the same soft tones they had come to expect from her. “Yes, I know the age of some of those books very well. I myself tried to have them replaced just before I retired from teaching. Unfortunately, some folk in the community felt they were adequate, so the money was not forthcoming.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth at Charity as she smoothed a hand over her blond, chin-length bob. As usual, there wasn’t a hair out of place.

      “I can’t imagine why anyone thinks the children of the nineties still need to focus so completely on President Kennedy’s administration,” Hope murmured. “Several things have happened since the early sixties, Charity.”

      “Oh, piffle.” Faith stared at them vacantly for several moments, her brow furrowed. Her English accent became more pronounced as she spoke. “I’ve forgotten whatever it was we were going to discuss today.”

      “It’s all right, dear,” Hope whispered, squeezing the other woman’s hand gently. “We were going to discuss our Christmas project. Isn’t that right, Charity?” She glanced across the table warningly, her thin body rigid in her chair.

      “Yes, indeed,” Charity murmured gaily. “But not before we’ve had my special dessert.” She rose to stand behind Faith’s chair, her tiny frame hidden by the larger woman. “And of course, we’ll have tea. You pour, dear.” She squeezed the rounded shoulders affectionately.

      It was difficult to scoop out the ice cream with her arthritic hands, so Charity took the carton and dishes to Hope for help. They both watched as Faith’s faded green eyes lit up with excitement as she tasted her first spoonful.

      “Nuts,” she crowed. “This ice cream has nuts.” She sighed with pleasure. “I do love nuts,” she murmured happily.

      As they basked in the warm, afternoon sun, sipping tea, chatting desultorily and ignoring the dirty dishes sitting nearby, Charity held her hands out for them to see.

      “I’m afraid I won’t be able to quilt this year, girls,” she murmured, staring at her gnarled fingers and twisted knuckles. “I just can’t manage the needle anymore.”

      They were aghast.

      “But, Charity,” Faith exploded. “You’ve always made a special Christmas quilt every year for as long as I’ve known you. It’s a tradition in Mossbank.” Her eyes were huge and filling rapidly with tears. “You can’t just give up.”

      “Well, this year I am choosing something else for my Christmas project.” Charity’s brown eyes sparkled with a secret.

      Hope cleared her voice, curiosity widening her china blue eyes. “What?” she enquired softly.

      “I’ve been praying about it, and this morning I got an answer. I’m going to take on a different kind of project—a person. A little boy named Roddy Green. I watched him steal a chocolate bar at the grocery store this morning when he should have been in school.” Charity shifted her feet to rest on a nearby rock, exposing her puffy, swollen ankles. “And I decided he could use a friend,” she murmured quietly. “Art told me a little СКАЧАТЬ