Sunday Story

Martha pulled the carrots out of the dirt and put them in her basket. A drizzle of sweat trickled down her cheek. She turned her neck and wiped the sweat with her shoulder and moved to the next row. Martha glanced up toward the sky noting the position of the sun—and the lack of clouds. Then she stuck the garden fork into the ground and pulled up the next carrot. Suddenly, a sharp breeze curled around her boots.

“If you are going to send a breeze, I would appreciate something to cool my face.”

He laughed, “How did you know it was me?”

Martha looked across the garden and spotted him in the shadows by the barn. “What breeze wraps itself around a boot and leaves the carrot tops still?”

“Point taken. Can you slip away soon?”

“I would love to, but I am supposed to finish harvesting and airing the carrots before noon, then I have to scrub the guest room. Mother is expecting Aunt Caroline tonight. I will have some spare time after supper though. Aunt Caroline is known for her gossip, and Mother won’t mind me slipping out for an hour or so.”

“When you get a chance, head up to the drugstore. I’ll be waiting by the well out back.”


Oliver held up a dipper of well water when Martha rounded the drugstore corner.


“And how is Aunt Caroline?”

“Doing well, considering she is chairing the harvest celebration committee and she can’t seem to find enough coordinating bunting.”

His fingers traced the side of Martha’s face. “You humans have the strangest interests.”

“Hmmph. You’re one to talk. You enjoy watching beetles dance.”

“There is something to say for watching beetles; they are a sort of relative of mine.”

“Is that what you had in mind? Are we going to watch some beetles tonight?”

Oliver smiled as he took Martha’s hand. “No, tonight I want to introduce you to some of my ant friends.”

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