Am I Their Sister? (Part one of a flight in mid winter>)

Fleeing at Christmas

This story and the following two are based on true incidents.

                Elizabeth pulled open the door to their simple stone cottage and peered out. “My, it’s blustering out. I hope Papa will get home soon with the supplies.”

                “Close the door, dear one,” her mother called from where she was stirring something over the fire. “That draft is sweeping right over to the cradle.”

                Mariekin opened sleepy eyes and lifted her arms to be picked up. Elizabeth couldn’t resist kissing her round rosy cheeks as she cuddled her for a moment.

                Five year old John left his block stacking and leaned against his mother by the fireplace.

                “Whatcha making Mama?” he asked.

                “Christmas pudding for our supper tonight, sonny. Pretty soon Papa will be home and we will eat. Are the goats milked, Elizabeth?”
                Elizabeth looked guilty. She had a way of putting off tasks to the last moment. “I’ll do it right away. “

                She scurried over to the adjacent barn which was attached to the house for extra warmth, and soon the peaceful swish-swishing of milk pinging into the metal pail could be heard.

                She was just finishing the second and last goat when she heard Papa stomping snow off his boots then swing open the front door. They both entered the cozy main room at the same time.

                Elizabeth’s heart raced. Papa looked pale, scared. She had never seen him look that way before.

Without stopping to remove his boots, he strode over to his wife and put his arm around her waist. Their heads were bent together in low, hurried conversation while the older children stared, alarmed.

                As one, they turned to face the children, and Elizabeth noticed their hands were tightly clasped.

                “Elizabeth, you will gather up all the bedding and clothing and pack them into the cart. John, you will help me round up the chickens and goats, while mother prepares the food. We will spend Christmas in a cave this year!”

                “But Mama, it’s too cold to eat outside!” John cried out, just as Elizabeth exclaimed,

                “What is the problem, Mama dear? Is it the soldiers?”

                Both Papa and Mama put a finger to their lips, so Elizabeth hurried to do their bidding.

                Her fingers trembled with worry. I thought, we all thought, we’d be safe from the enemy with all this snow, but I guess we aren’t. I am sure that is why Mama and Papa are hurrying so to get away. I wonder if Susan and her Grandmother are aware. She started to ask her mother, but once again Mother put her finger to her lips and slanted to eyes towards the younger ones.

                “Yes, everyone would know by now,” Mama whispered, “Hurry, hurry.”

Even Mariekin noticed the tension in the air and looked at Elizabeth with round thoughtful eyes while her big sister changed and wrapped her snuggly in several layers of blankets.

                Very soon everything they would most urgently need was piled high into the cart and they went outdoors. Elizabeth was amazed, and yes, more than a little frightened, when she saw people, her people, tumbling out of every house all over the valley and forming a long line. She grabbed John’s hand and hurried after Mama who was pushing the cart with Mariekin inside surrounded by bedding and bundles of all sorts and sizes. Elizabeth anxiously scanned the horizon for a glimpse of her father. He had hurried away and now was helping to organize the immense group.

                “Susan! I must find Susan!” Elizabeth cried.
                “No, Elizabeth, no. We must keep together. We will soon be starting.”

Too be continued>

Books by this author (Marilyn Friesen) www.prairieviewpress.com