Wind Chimes, Christmas Story Collection Sample Page
Winifred’s Adventure
Amias Hambly leaned on his pitchfork in the hayloft door, gazing down over his backyard and the road to the house. The snow dusted down, sprinkling the trees with whiteness. He laughed as he thought about their hired hand Mr. Rankins. The snow was like the whiteness now throughout the edges of his hair.
“That boy.” Amias thought aloud with a gentle smile, “just turned sixty. What a day. What a day!”
“Grandpa Hambly,” a voice broke the stillness behind him. “Can I bother you a minute?”
Amias turned around. “You ain’t bothering me, Judah.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. He waved his hand towards the open hay loft door. “Sure is pretty, don’t you think?”
Judah came to the edge and stood tall, the sun playing with his bronzy hair. “Like a painting,” he agreed. “Kind of makes you want to fetch up some pretty girl in a red bonnet to take on a sleigh ride.” He turned around, grinning. “But my dear sister Julia is too busy baking cookies,” he paused, considering, “which, honestly, is just as good.”
Amias shook his head, the laugh breaking from his lips again. “That’s why you don’t get married yet, Judah, is because most girls nowadays forget that the way to a man’s heart is his stomach. Back when I was young, in 1844, when I first met Winifred, first thing she did was bake me up an apple pie.”
Judah’s smile widened. “That was over sixty years ago, Grandpa Hambly.”
Amias chuckled. “You think it doesn’t work still? It was only thirty one years ago that your pa, Hosea Rankins, met your ma. She helped him chase the chicken when it got loose after he beheaded it.”
Judah grimaced. “That’s sure romantic,” he coughed.
Amias winked. “Your pa thought so. It was a real good chicken, too. Don’t worry, Judah, you’re just twenty-five. Someday some girl will come along and melt your heart, and I’ll just bet it will be with some kind of food.” He sat down on a hay bale. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”
Judah leaned against the wall, pulling a piece of straw out of the nearby stack and chewing the end thoughtfully. “Well, Grandma Hambly is on her favorite topic again.”
Amias moaned, swatting his hand in play. “Would you ruin a good December afternoon, son?”
The corners of Judah’s eyes crinkled. “She’s telling Julia and the nieces that she wants to go to India.”
Amias buried his head in his hands, groaning. “Last week she wanted to try going in one of those flying machines, like we read in the paper.”
Judah laughed. “And every time Isaiah backs her up all the way and promises he’ll go with her, too.”
Amias stood up, setting the pitchfork up against the wall. “I’ll have to tell that brother of yours to stop putting ideas in my wife’s head. She’s eighty-four, not seventeen like him. He can afford to be ridiculous.” He stopped by the ladder and gave a small grin. “But then again, that’s Winifred!”
“Exactly why God had you marry her, too, I’ll reckon,” Judah smirked, “so you could be her sensible voice of reason.”
Amias just gave a short guffaw and made his way down the ladder.
“When we have the children, Amias, let’s build them a swing in the tree that overlooks the pond. Then they could swing and drop into the water!” Winifred had come up with that idea the year after they were married, in 1845.
“They could kill themselves doing that.” Amias had waved it off. “And right now, there’s other things to think about. Like, perhaps, if we should move west or not.” President Polk had just announced that the United States should actively pursue settling western expansion. Amias wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Winifred had been quiet, but had laid a hand tingling with excitement on his arm. He remembered her enthusiasm. “If you feel God wants us to go, then we go. I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re thinking. Rather an adventure, I’d assume.”
Amias remembered how he had felt embarrassed to tell his little bride what the truth was. That he was uncertain, not because of how she might feel, but because of his own panic. Panic that he would be insufficient for a responsibility so large.
Winifred had been the one to bring it up again a couple months later, as she stood by the gate and watched some wagons pass. “We could go with them, Amias!” Her brown eyes had sparkled. “Don’t we have enough money to do it? Is it--that we don’t?”
“It’s not that.” Amias had frowned. “I just don’t know where God wants me to be yet.”
“Then ask him,” To Winifred, it was as simple as that. She was like a child, in the best possible way.
“Winifred,” Amias called as he entered the back kitchen door.
His wife, plump and beaming, looked up. She gave her hand another shake and powdered sugar sifted through the sieve she was holding like the snow outside. “Yes?”
“Judah told me you’re keen on India now.” Amias sat down and helped himself to some gingerbread.
Isaiah Rankins, the youngest of Hosea Rankins’ children, glanced up, eyes gleaming. “Beautiful idea, if you ask me, Grandpa Hambly!”
“You do realize that people die from Indian water, Indian heat, Indian disease, Indian thieves?” Amias tried to keep his voice dry and impartial.
It was all too easy to laugh at Winifred and Isaiah Rankins’ schemes. The past ten years had been like this. It was all the more so easy for Winifred to come up with these plans when she had a partner in crime. Before Isaiah, the Rankins children had been rather normal. All with different dispositions, of course, but nothing like Isaiah.
“Well, I believe people die here as well,” Winifred returned, frowning. She twisted the corner of her apron, and then tucked a strand of her curly white hair back into her bun. “What is life but to live, Amias? Let’s experience some things! Have some adventures!”
“You’re the only eighty-four year old, dear, who wants to still have adventures. Wasn’t moving out to Washington enough for you?” Amias flicked some crumbs from off of his shirt.
Winifred came closer, her eyes sparkling, just like they had every time an idea came to her. “That was just the beginning, don’t you know? Just think! Who knows what might be in India?”
“Yes, indeed,” Amias nodded, “snakes, tigers, perhaps. Bandits, of course. Tropical storms. It is tropical there, is it not?” He grabbed for another piece of gingerbread. Winifred smacked his hand in play.
“You shall have no appetite for supper,” she reprimanded.
Amias broke the gingerbread in half and handed her the larger side. “You wouldn’t want to go to India without me, would you?”
Winifred sat down at the table across from him. She glanced at Isaiah, then shook her head. “You know I wouldn’t. But I think you’d like to do something exciting, now that we’re older. We don’t have to worry about making a living out of this place as much, with the Rankinses, and the Scovills--.”
“Oh, Grandma Hambly!” Isabelle Scovill, the Rankins’ eldest and only married daughter, shook her head. “Poor Grandpa Hambly gets that concerned wrinkle every time you mention adventure. He’s eighty-six, don’t you think it’s time for him to be allowed some rest?”
“Not while Grandma Hambly is alive,” giggled Isabelle’s oldest child, Anna. The ten year old popped a nut in her mouth. “She made cookies in the shape of what she thought monkeys and elephants look like, Grandpa Hambly.”
Amias’s eyebrows rose. “Really. And do they resemble the creatures?”
“Not at all!” Joseph, Anna’s younger brother, broke into the room just then. He was chasing Miriam, the smallest Scovill. “More like humpback bears with tusks and catfish with tails.”
Winifred blushed. “Well, I did not know that Joseph had a penny paper with a picture of them in it, or I would have referred to that first.”
Amias patted Winifred’s hand. “It’s too far away, Winifred.” He scooted his chair back and stood up. “But perhaps you may just find adventure around here.”
Winifred paused, thinking, moving her lips while her eyes grew wider. Amias knew that she was getting another idea, so he smiled and went out the door.
Amias Hambly leaned on his pitchfork in the hayloft door, gazing down over his backyard and the road to the house. The snow dusted down, sprinkling the trees with whiteness. He laughed as he thought about their hired hand Mr. Rankins. The snow was like the whiteness now throughout the edges of his hair.
“That boy.” Amias thought aloud with a gentle smile, “just turned sixty. What a day. What a day!”
“Grandpa Hambly,” a voice broke the stillness behind him. “Can I bother you a minute?”
Amias turned around. “You ain’t bothering me, Judah.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. He waved his hand towards the open hay loft door. “Sure is pretty, don’t you think?”
Judah came to the edge and stood tall, the sun playing with his bronzy hair. “Like a painting,” he agreed. “Kind of makes you want to fetch up some pretty girl in a red bonnet to take on a sleigh ride.” He turned around, grinning. “But my dear sister Julia is too busy baking cookies,” he paused, considering, “which, honestly, is just as good.”
Amias shook his head, the laugh breaking from his lips again. “That’s why you don’t get married yet, Judah, is because most girls nowadays forget that the way to a man’s heart is his stomach. Back when I was young, in 1844, when I first met Winifred, first thing she did was bake me up an apple pie.”
Judah’s smile widened. “That was over sixty years ago, Grandpa Hambly.”
Amias chuckled. “You think it doesn’t work still? It was only thirty one years ago that your pa, Hosea Rankins, met your ma. She helped him chase the chicken when it got loose after he beheaded it.”
Judah grimaced. “That’s sure romantic,” he coughed.
Amias winked. “Your pa thought so. It was a real good chicken, too. Don’t worry, Judah, you’re just twenty-five. Someday some girl will come along and melt your heart, and I’ll just bet it will be with some kind of food.” He sat down on a hay bale. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”
Judah leaned against the wall, pulling a piece of straw out of the nearby stack and chewing the end thoughtfully. “Well, Grandma Hambly is on her favorite topic again.”
Amias moaned, swatting his hand in play. “Would you ruin a good December afternoon, son?”
The corners of Judah’s eyes crinkled. “She’s telling Julia and the nieces that she wants to go to India.”
Amias buried his head in his hands, groaning. “Last week she wanted to try going in one of those flying machines, like we read in the paper.”
Judah laughed. “And every time Isaiah backs her up all the way and promises he’ll go with her, too.”
Amias stood up, setting the pitchfork up against the wall. “I’ll have to tell that brother of yours to stop putting ideas in my wife’s head. She’s eighty-four, not seventeen like him. He can afford to be ridiculous.” He stopped by the ladder and gave a small grin. “But then again, that’s Winifred!”
“Exactly why God had you marry her, too, I’ll reckon,” Judah smirked, “so you could be her sensible voice of reason.”
Amias just gave a short guffaw and made his way down the ladder.
“When we have the children, Amias, let’s build them a swing in the tree that overlooks the pond. Then they could swing and drop into the water!” Winifred had come up with that idea the year after they were married, in 1845.
“They could kill themselves doing that.” Amias had waved it off. “And right now, there’s other things to think about. Like, perhaps, if we should move west or not.” President Polk had just announced that the United States should actively pursue settling western expansion. Amias wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Winifred had been quiet, but had laid a hand tingling with excitement on his arm. He remembered her enthusiasm. “If you feel God wants us to go, then we go. I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re thinking. Rather an adventure, I’d assume.”
Amias remembered how he had felt embarrassed to tell his little bride what the truth was. That he was uncertain, not because of how she might feel, but because of his own panic. Panic that he would be insufficient for a responsibility so large.
Winifred had been the one to bring it up again a couple months later, as she stood by the gate and watched some wagons pass. “We could go with them, Amias!” Her brown eyes had sparkled. “Don’t we have enough money to do it? Is it--that we don’t?”
“It’s not that.” Amias had frowned. “I just don’t know where God wants me to be yet.”
“Then ask him,” To Winifred, it was as simple as that. She was like a child, in the best possible way.
“Winifred,” Amias called as he entered the back kitchen door.
His wife, plump and beaming, looked up. She gave her hand another shake and powdered sugar sifted through the sieve she was holding like the snow outside. “Yes?”
“Judah told me you’re keen on India now.” Amias sat down and helped himself to some gingerbread.
Isaiah Rankins, the youngest of Hosea Rankins’ children, glanced up, eyes gleaming. “Beautiful idea, if you ask me, Grandpa Hambly!”
“You do realize that people die from Indian water, Indian heat, Indian disease, Indian thieves?” Amias tried to keep his voice dry and impartial.
It was all too easy to laugh at Winifred and Isaiah Rankins’ schemes. The past ten years had been like this. It was all the more so easy for Winifred to come up with these plans when she had a partner in crime. Before Isaiah, the Rankins children had been rather normal. All with different dispositions, of course, but nothing like Isaiah.
“Well, I believe people die here as well,” Winifred returned, frowning. She twisted the corner of her apron, and then tucked a strand of her curly white hair back into her bun. “What is life but to live, Amias? Let’s experience some things! Have some adventures!”
“You’re the only eighty-four year old, dear, who wants to still have adventures. Wasn’t moving out to Washington enough for you?” Amias flicked some crumbs from off of his shirt.
Winifred came closer, her eyes sparkling, just like they had every time an idea came to her. “That was just the beginning, don’t you know? Just think! Who knows what might be in India?”
“Yes, indeed,” Amias nodded, “snakes, tigers, perhaps. Bandits, of course. Tropical storms. It is tropical there, is it not?” He grabbed for another piece of gingerbread. Winifred smacked his hand in play.
“You shall have no appetite for supper,” she reprimanded.
Amias broke the gingerbread in half and handed her the larger side. “You wouldn’t want to go to India without me, would you?”
Winifred sat down at the table across from him. She glanced at Isaiah, then shook her head. “You know I wouldn’t. But I think you’d like to do something exciting, now that we’re older. We don’t have to worry about making a living out of this place as much, with the Rankinses, and the Scovills--.”
“Oh, Grandma Hambly!” Isabelle Scovill, the Rankins’ eldest and only married daughter, shook her head. “Poor Grandpa Hambly gets that concerned wrinkle every time you mention adventure. He’s eighty-six, don’t you think it’s time for him to be allowed some rest?”
“Not while Grandma Hambly is alive,” giggled Isabelle’s oldest child, Anna. The ten year old popped a nut in her mouth. “She made cookies in the shape of what she thought monkeys and elephants look like, Grandpa Hambly.”
Amias’s eyebrows rose. “Really. And do they resemble the creatures?”
“Not at all!” Joseph, Anna’s younger brother, broke into the room just then. He was chasing Miriam, the smallest Scovill. “More like humpback bears with tusks and catfish with tails.”
Winifred blushed. “Well, I did not know that Joseph had a penny paper with a picture of them in it, or I would have referred to that first.”
Amias patted Winifred’s hand. “It’s too far away, Winifred.” He scooted his chair back and stood up. “But perhaps you may just find adventure around here.”
Winifred paused, thinking, moving her lips while her eyes grew wider. Amias knew that she was getting another idea, so he smiled and went out the door.