Chapter Five
Dust covered the furniture in Paige’s small cabin. Her housework had been long neglected, but today she’d get her home in order.
The first three weeks of the season had been a success with field trips from local schools every day. Good for the farm, but the extra guests kept her busy to where she hadn’t had a social life, or even time to herself since they’d opened the first weekend in October.
Once Halloween came, the pace would slow down until Thanksgiving. The farm would still open on weekends for their fall festival, but November only saw a fraction of the business October did. It gave her family a small breather to prepare for the Christmas rush. Little would change activity wise, except their visitors would come for trees instead of pumpkins. Most of the other offerings of the farm remained the same, except with a Christmas theme rather than autumn.
Motivated to get the house clean, she set her favorite worship station to stream and got busy. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tied a bandana around her head. Once she started moving and was kept warm by her actions, she turned down the heat.
After she’d mopped the floors and vacuumed the area rugs, she grabbed the furniture polish and a rag. She sprayed the oak TV stand and wiped it down, rubbing in circles until no dust remained and the varnish shined.
Two hours later, the cabin was spotless from top to bottom. Only a small pile of laundry remained left to do, along with making her bed once the sheets finished drying. She collapsed onto her sofa and sprawled her arms over the top.
She stole a glimpse of the time on the outdated satellite box.12:09. An entire afternoon and evening ahead of her with nothing pressing to do. Free time was a foreign concept in the fall.What to do, what to do?
Deciding on Bible journaling, she went to the hall closet and brought down the tote of supplies from the top shelf. She wasn’t an artistic person, but Missy had dragged her to a Bible journaling workshop last summer, and Paige discovered she enjoyed it. Her pages didn’t look anything like the ones she saw online, but that didn’t matter to her. It gave her a creative outlet while deepening her walk with God.
She’d been working through the book of First Timothy, but she hadn’t journaled in over a month. Before she started on the next passage, she reviewed what she’d already done. Her block lettering had improved, but her drawings made her laugh. Still, she could glance at the columns and her notes and know what the verses had said.
Before she could start any new work, her phone rang from the kitchen counter. The temptation to ignore the call pressed hard. She let it go to voicemail, reasoning if it were important, whoever the caller was would leave a message. Today was her day, a chance to relax and catch up onme-time.
A minute passed, and Paige didn’t hear her voicemail alert beep. She picked up a purple marker and began writingSERVANTin script lettering. After exchanging the marker for a pen, she summarized the first lines of chapter four in her own words. She’d only written two lines when someone knocked on the door.
“Are you home?” her mom called.
“Yes. Coming.” Setting down her pen, she pushed back from the table. If she had to be interrupted, she was glad it was from her mom—she and Missy were welcome to visit anytime.
She opened the door and greeted Mom. “What brings you over the river and through the woods?”
The saying had become a joke among the family since Paige’s cabin sat nestled in a grove of trees just past a stream.
“I have a huge favor to ask. I tried calling, but when you didn’t answer, I figured you had your music turned up and couldn’t hear so I dropped by instead.”
“What do you need?”Don’t let it be anything time consuming, please.
Her mom wrung her hands. “I know this is your first day off in weeks, but is there any way you could run into town for me and deliver several pies?”
That could take an hour. Or three. “Where to?”
“Mrs. Bryant from church. Her civic group is having a bake sale tomorrow, and I volunteered several pies.” Mom pressed her lips against each other, pleading with her eyes for help. “I’d planned on taking them myself, but Dad wants me to go with him to the equipment auction in Henderson.”
“What time do they have to be there?”
“Any time after two.” Her mom flashed an apologetic smile. “And Dad wants to leave here no later than a quarter after one.”
“That’s fine. I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? I hate asking you on your day off.”
“Completely sure. I’m always up for a visit with Mrs. Bryant.”
Mom clasped her shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
***
Paige rang the doorbell at Mrs. Bryant’s house at four o’clock. She’d planned to be there right at two, but the kitchen staff hadn’t finished all the pies yet. Come to find out, when her mom had said the farm was donating several pies, she’d meant thirty—all pumpkin—which gave her twenty minutes of aromatic bliss on her way to town as she inhaled the cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg.
She waited, but when no one came to the door, she pressed the doorbell a second time. Mrs. Bryant’s car was parked in the garage, so she had to be home or visiting a neighbor.
