Lowering herself to the floor she pushed her sleeves up further and continued to scrub in haste, the promise of being able to leave the ranch for a few hours driving her on.
***
Rosaline tried to hum the words of the song Mr. Voss had made her memorize as she made her way to the market. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t make them sound right. The words sounded dull and empty.
She’d rushed through her morning chores, tidied up her hair and thrown on her plain cloak and bonnet before rushing out the door.
She always jumped at the opportunity to leave the farm. Somehow, today was different. She’d lost the will to sing in the solitude that the roads leading to town had always afforded her. The open planes of grass and fields of daisies that stretched before her were doing little to lift her spirits. Not even the cows made her smile, though she usually greeted them by name as she passed the many farmer’s fields.
The dirt road was empty as she picked her way over the rocks and holes, her wicker basket for the groceries swaying gently over her arm. Sighing she gave up on the new song and switched to an old familiar hymn, but that didn’t sound right either. Her heart was heavy as she neared the town. In the eight years she’d worked for the Voss family, she had never had difficulty singing a hymn.
The words usually flowed effortlessly without thought, but all she could hear in her mind at present was the mocking voice of Mr. Voss belittling her talent. “Lord, I need your help,” she prayed as she looked at the clear blue sky. “My heart is heavy, longing for change.” She would often talk to God whenever she was alone. The thought of him hearing her brought her comfort.
She dreaded the upcoming event Mr. Voss had mentioned. Staying in a stranger’s home was even worse than performing at the horrid town hall. She dreaded the thought of having to sleep in a strange bed next to other maids she didn’t know. At least the confines of her tiny room provided her with privacy, if not comfort.
Lord, please don’t let them force me onto a stanger's farm. Intervene Lord, and stop that plan before it happens.
A gentle breeze rustled her cloak as it blew past her into the town. She could hear children laughing and playing the closer she got.
“Good morning Rosaline!” the fish peddler called from his cart as he passed her on the road, his horses kicking up dust with their hooves.
“Good morning,” she smiled and called after the cart. She was well-liked in town for her gentle spirit and kindly manner.
The breeze was picking up and blew the newsagent’s papers across the road, to the old man’s great annoyance as he chased them down with the help of some laughing children. Rosaline smiled at the scene and climbed the steps that lead to the mercantile store.
The bell jingled as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to the dimmer light of the store.
The shop was empty besides a woman milling about between the isles of goods. Picking up this and that as she looked at the labels.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” Mr. Granger said by way of greeting from behind his cash register as he wiped his hands on his striped apron. “And what can I do for you today?”
Mr. Granger was a kind man in his late forties with a slight overbite and pointed nose. His arms were toned from years of lifting the heavy sacks of flour and sugar that were always neatly stacked in his shop. He kept a clean store with tidy rows of goods and prided himself on using honest scales.
“Good day, Mr. Granger.” Rosaline smiled and handed him the list of groceries from her apron pocket as she placed the basket on the counter that ran the length of the store. “The usual, please.”
He took the list and examined it through the spectacles that hung low on his nose. His red hair was thinning on top, making his bald spot visible as he bent his head.
“Right, that all seems in order. I’ll have this for you in a jiffy,” he said pleasantly as he took the basket from the counter.
She looked around at the canned goods that were stacked from wall to wall as she waited for her order to be filled. The shop was well stocked with household goods. It even boasted an assortment of foreign spices that Mr. Granger displayed on shelves behind the counter.
“Is that Rosaline I heard?” came a cheerful voice from the back of the shop.
Rosaline smiled at her lively friend as she came bouncing forward and hooked a plump arm through her own.
“You don’t mind if we go for a walk, do you Pa?” she called to her father without waiting for a reply. She pulled her friend out the door and back onto the busy street.
Donna Granger was Rosaline’s best and only friend. She was at least a head shorter than Rosaline and her hair was a mass of coppery curls that couldn’t be tamed beneath the frilly cap she wore when she helped her father in the store. She was plumper than her friend, never having to go without a meal in her life. Her pale skin was spattered with freckles and her sparkling eyes were hazel brown.
“Come. Let’s take a walk in the field,” she suggested, and proceeded to drag her friend away by the arm.
Rosaline knew her friend all too well and let her lead the way.
They left the street and entered the empty field that lay behind the shop.
The daisies were in bloom, and Rosaline bent to pick one up. She plucked at the white petals as Donna chattered away about their Sunday tea and asked if she would like to come.
“Is there something on your mind?” Donna nudged her after a few minutes. “I’ve been talking and talking here and you haven’t said a word. ”
