Uncertainty: Chapter Fourteen

Uncertainty: Chapter Fourteen

The wagon wheels traced two perfect lines in the snow as we rolled along the country road. Once the flurries had stopped, and the wind had died down, the crisp air had lost its bite, and riding in the back of the wagon with Eva became more enjoyable. Nevertheless, I was ever so grateful for the double clothes under my coat.

I thought for a minute about what Abba and Eema had sewn behind the buttons of our coats, and massaged one of them through my mittens, but felt nothing out of the ordinary, which made me wonder if anything was even there.

“How’s everyone doing back there,” Onkel Max called out.

Alles gut1,” I answered back.

“I have to pishn2, Onkel Max,” shouted Eva.

“Really Pony? We haven’t been on the road for more than fifteen minutes,” I asserted.

“But the ride is bumpy and my insides are nervous, Bertie.”

“Is it an emergency?” I asked.

“That’s a silly question,” she shot back.

“We have to stop for a minute, Onkel Max,” I yelled.

Perfekt3!” he responded. I detected the resignation in his voice.

If anybody had passed us on the road, they would have noticed a middle-aged woman standing beside a horse and wagon, holding Shaina Maidel’s red blanket in stretched out arms. But on the other side of the blanket there was Eva and me, creating two yellow circles in the snow. 

All things considered, we were back on the road in no time at all, and with plenty of time before our 10:00 a.m. departure, provided we didn’t have to stop again for Eva.

“We are approaching the town road, so it’s time to cover up,” instructed Onkel Max.

I pulled the red blanket over our bodies which magically made us invisible to the rest of the world. Occasionally, a burst of sunlight would bounce around inside our igloo world, washing Eva’s face with streaks of red light, and then she’d turn invisible again.

“Are you nervous, Bertie?” asked Eva.

“About what, Pony?” I considered.

“About taking care of me,” she answered. I thought I saw a glint of her sly smile.

“Should I be?” I was getting nervous.

“Well, Abba thinks I’m a handful,” she boasted.

“For me, it all depends on what’s inside your hand,” I suggested. “For instance, if your hand is filled with dirt and worms, then I guess I’m a bissel nervous. But if your hand is filled with shokolad4 and raisins, then there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“What if my hand was filled with shokolad worms?”

“That’s a silly example. Who doesn’t like shokolad worms?”

Eva cracked up and so did I. I think that being outdoors for the first time in a month probably made us a bit giddy.

“I can hear you from out here,” shouted Tante Ilse. “You will need to keep your voices down since we’re approaching der platzin eine Minute6.

“Okay, Tante Ilse!” shouted Eva.

I shook her leg to get her attention. “Remember. You’re a handful of shokolad.”

“And now it’s all melted and gooey,” she claimed, and mimed a hand smear on my coat.

“Not another word!” I hissed with an edge.

“Okay. I’ll stop.” she said abruptly.

After another flash of light under the blanket, I caught a flash of Eva zipping her lips.

1All good, just fine

6one minute

11 thoughts on “Uncertainty: Chapter Fourteen

      1. *sigh* It’s such an easy read. A poorly written story is a chore to read, even in small bites….I’ll never finish it. But, this is so easy that I effortlessly flow through it. When pt1 is complete, I think I’ll go back and read it again, all together.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Me too. I definitely need to check for continuity. Serializing the storytelling was an interesting experiment for me: plotting the action; attributing characteristics; controlling the pacing; and trying to tie all the loose ends together—always moving forward without the luxury of hindsight. Part 2 may be a different strategy. You’re a pal for sticking with me. Your notes are always welcome!


      3. It’s wonderful! Why ever did you question yourself attempting this? You are a wonderful storyteller and writer! I can only surmise it was concern in doing justice to such a personal study and honoring your mother?
        Being a finicky reader, I easily slipped into the story, the emotions, settings, imagining faces, beneath the floor and in the barn…where words on the page vanish and you watch it play out before you like a movie on a screen.
        I’ll anxiously await pt2, certainly. It’s a story I must chase to the end. Bravo friend!😊

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Thank you for all your encouragement. Self-doubt is my oldest friend, and I work very hard to disappoint him daily. You’ve easily picked up on my theatrical writing style. The words help me paint pictures. And dialogue is my best brush. Yes, the story is personal, but balancing the historical accuracy with human interest has long been the challenge. Part 2 will not be any easier, but your support makes it attainable.


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