Saturday Morning Serial is the weekend section of Library Binding.
For the month of November, I’m publishing chapters in a fairy tale novella, The Woman in the Wood. It’s a cozy retelling of Toads and Diamonds.
This is Chapter 3.
Previously, Maria met a mysterious woman who asked a favor
In this chapter, Maria finds the unexpected in the old woman’s home
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Thanks so much for being here! Now, on to the chapter…
Raindrops began to pat the hood of Maria’s cloak as they reached the old woman’s hut, a squat square of wattle and thatch. She stepped across the threshold and gasped at the emptiness. It was nothing but a one-room shack. A small cookfire stood in the center, with rickety stools on either side. Musty hay and a stack of firewood crouched against the far side of the room. Maria felt a twinge of guilt for thinking her family’s cottage lacking in comfort.
“Child, will you cover the window? I don’t want the spray to make mud inside.”
The old woman was right. The scattered drops had turned into a light but steady rainfall. Maria unhooked the curtain and covered the window opening, which possessed neither frame nor glass.
“You may as well stay until the rain lets up,” the old woman said as she lowered herself onto one of the stools with a grunt and rubbed at one of her legs.
“Thank you, Granny,” Maria said. As she dropped onto the other stool, her stomach growled around the few morsels of bread in her belly. The old woman’s eyes glowed in a friendly way. She was no stranger to the noises of hunger.
“See the pot?” she gestured toward a kettle perched on a hanger above the cookfire. “Fill it with water from the jar over there, and bring it back here. I’ll get the fire hot, and we’ll have a bit of something.”
Maria bobbed her head and did as she was told, though she couldn’t help wondering what they would boil. She didn’t see a scrap of food anywhere. When she finished filling the kettle, the old woman had arranged several small logs and kindling, and it wasn’t long before a cozy fire crackled and the water began to boil.
The woman took an old bone from her skirt pocket and handed it to Maria.
“Put it in.”
Turning the bone over in her hands, Maria saw that it was dry as a rock. The old woman didn’t strike her as mad, so she smiled, plopped the bone into the boiling water, and lowered the heavy cover to seal the heat.
The old woman pushed at knots in her shoulders and leaned toward the fire’s warmth. “Now that supper is on the way, tell me about yourself while we wait. What is your name?”
“Maria.”
“Like the blessed saint. Will your mother be anxious about you tonight?”
“My mother is in heaven with all the blessed saints.”
“So you live with your father, then?”
“And my stepmother and stepsister.”
“Will they be worrying about you?”
Papa was already worrying...darkness and rain, her wandering the woodlands. But she knew Stepmother. She would persuade him to wait until daylight to search for her, and this time, it was for the best.
“I see,” said the old woman, sounding a shade displeased, after Maria did not give a ready answer. “Check the pot, yes?”
When Maria lifted the lid, the scent of potatoes, carrots, and parsley rose in a bouquet. She stared inside the kettle, which was brimming with thick, savory stew. A memory of Mama at the hearth swam to the surface of Maria’s mind, and she closed her eyes and inhaled the rich aroma. After a long moment, the old woman tapped her on the knee with a wooden ladle, and Maria noticed two carved bowls in her lap. She glanced at the old woman, searching her face for an explanation, but she only said, “Let us taste it, my lamb.”
She did not need to persuade Maria. In three licks, Maria ladled the bowls, and they were blowing heartily on spoonfuls of stew and devouring them the second they were cool enough to swallow. Midway through her second bowl, Maria heard a man’s voice at the door, hailing the old woman.
“Come in, Jacob,” she whirred.
A young man entered the hut with an armful of firewood, and with him came the scent of damp leather and loam. He smiled pleasantly and said, “Good evening.” He crossed the room in a few strides and began stacking the wood to replenish the small stockpile. The old woman invited Jacob to warm himself and share supper.
“You’re good to me, Grandmother.” He whipped off his hat and sat cross-legged on the ground beside them.
The old woman produced a third bowl and spoon. Maria scraped the bottom of the kettle and ladled the rest of the soup into the young man’s bowl. The old woman said between mouthfuls, “Jacob, this is Maria. She saved me from dying of hunger and thirst in the wood, and it’s her stew you’re eating.”
“Hardly!” Maria said. “I did nothing.”
Jacob smiled and changed the subject, chatting freely about this and that—an intelligent crow that frequented a tall pine, a nearby den of foxes, the upcoming market day in the village. Maria was grateful he didn’t ask her questions, and her eyes grew heavy as their easy conversation and her full stomach gradually carried her to the brink of sleep. As Jacob stood and stretched, she realized he was leaving, and, with an effort, she regained her wits in time to ask him the question that had somehow slipped her mind earlier. How could I have forgotten? she managed to chide herself in the few seconds it took her to stand up from her stool.
“Did you happen upon a white woolen shawl today? I lost one in the forest,” she said.
“No, Maria, but if I see it, I will bring it here to Grandmother,” he said. Jacob raised her hand to his lips and kissed it as if it were the most natural thing to do. Two pink spots appeared on Maria’s cheeks, but Jacob did not see, as he had already turned to kiss the old woman’s creased cheek. Then he stepped outside into what had become a downpour.
“Will he be all right out there?” Maria asked the old woman. She chuckled and nodded.
“He thinks you are a jewel,” she said, and Maria couldn’t prevent a smile from creeping into the corners of her mouth.
“How can you tell such things?”
The old woman raised her eyebrows but did not answer.
It was clear that Maria must stay the night, and they did not discuss it but simply prepared for sleep. Maria cleaned the supper things and made two pallets of hay on the dirt floor. It wasn’t long before the old woman’s breathing turned into the heaves of slumber. Maria lay in her makeshift bed, feeling the hay prick through her wool dress, hearing the dull pop of the embers. It was not long before she drifted off, thinking how, here in this ramshackle refuge, she hadn’t found what she sought, but she had received warmth, food, and the good favor of others. All will be well.
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BONUS! Seeing the good
This isn’t part of the main story. It’s extra. You won’t miss any of the story if you skip it.
One of the reasons why we gravitate toward Cinderella stories like this one is that we love to see a worthy person, who has hitherto gone unnoticed, get recognized. It’s thoroughly satisfying. I think it’s the reason why Pride and Prejudice remains beloved through the generations. We are often so blinded by appearances and assumptions that truth eludes us. But when our eyes are finally opened…well, that’s a story I’ll keep coming back to again and again.
In this chapter, the old woman and the hunky Jacob recognize Maria’s worth, and they fold her into their approval as a matter of course. There is a likeness of spirit in all three, an effortless accord that happens so rarely that we must cherish it when it comes our way.
Maria does “prove” herself again in this chapter by politely obeying the old woman’s command to boil the bone, and we see her get rewarded for that small act of gracious courtesy.
Next time, Maria will have to do something unpleasant. We know she’s kind and well-mannered, but is she also courageous? I hope you’ll stick around to see.
Chapter 4 publishes on Nov. 11.
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Thanks for reading.
Your devoted,
Michelle
