The Rosary #7

Each week in Tuesday Tales, a group of writers write to a word or picture prompt. This week we write to a the prompt ‘worn.’ Come stop in while ‘The Rosary’ takes a trip back to Texas in 1915.

Be sure and check out the other story snippets this week in Tuesday Tales.

“Alice?” Mrs. Gossett peered over her spectacles at her hostess. “Have you heard a single word I’ve said?”

Wearily shaking her head, Alice admitted to her shortcoming. “I’m so sorry, dear. My mind simply wandered and I don’t know quite where I went for a moment. What were you saying?”

“Ah, it doesn’t matter.” Mrs. Gossett tsked-tsked, the displeasure showing on her face. “I can understand though. Even though it isn’t very neighborly. But with the young ones about…” She hesitated and frowned in the direction of the children playing quietly in the corner. “…I can see how it happens though. You look plum worn down.”

“Yes…well…”

Without further ado, Mrs. Gossett sat her tea cup on the side table and suddenly stood. “I shall go and leave you to your young ‘uns. Maybe you’ll get a chance to rest when that dilly-dallying husband of yours comes home.”

Alice felt the rage flare up at the base of her neck and rise towards her temples. “He’s not…he’s working…he doesn’t mean to…” she sputtered.

“Now don’t go getting all riled up, dear. I didn’t mean anything askance. It’s only that he’s never seems to be here much, leaving so much on your young shoulders.”

Counting silently to ten, Alice rose also to see her guest to the door. Her chest heaved with the deep breathes she took, trying to remain calm and civil. With neighbors so few and far between, it wouldn’t do to anger one of them, although many steamy words piled up at the base of her throat.

At the door, Mrs. Gossett turned and appeared to try to make amends. “When I finish Anne of the Island, would you like to borrow it?”

Alice grinned, not sure if she were more pleased about the possibility of reading a new story, or happier that her annoying neighbor was leaving. “I’d love to. It’s been so long since I’ve had a new book to read. And I dearly love to read…” She glanced around the room and at her children, well behaved for the moment. “…when I get the chance to, which isn’t often now a days.”

“I’ll bring it by when I finish it. Just take care please, to not let the children ruin it.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Alice nodded before carefully replying. “That I’d never countenance. The boys know how dear I think books are. Even their own few volumes they treat with care and respect.”

As if understanding what was happening, little Harold grabbed a cloth bound volume from the shelf and dashed up to his mother. “Mother, read us some more of Sky Island, please.”