Freedom Pass

She could see the argument he was about to make and raised her hand for silence.  “No, I know what I’m doing.  Keep your pony and the big white mare up and let the rest out.  Make sure the two horses are tied good then open all the gates into the big pasture.  Do that, then come back, momma needs to talk to you.”

Expecting an argument, she was relieved when he made none.  With a worried but puzzled expression he merely turned to go and do as she ordered.  For that, she was grateful; she had not the strength to reason with him.

She had nearly completed the tear-stained letter by the time he returned.  Pointing for him to sit down, she went back to the letter.  Though it was only two pages long, she found nothing more to say.  How could eight years of marriage be summed up in two pages?  But in rereading the letter, she found nothing more to add.  There would be no doubt in Adam’s mind as to the depth and magnitude of her love.  Every action, every deed, every glance and smiling look of daily life had made known the depth of their love for each other.  Even death could not erase that.   

Ruth’s arms felt as though they each held a pail full of milk.  Dropping them to her sides, she mustered all the internal strength she could and solemnly looked little Adam in the eyes for a moment before saying, “Here, take the ironing board back where it belongs, then come back and sit down.”

Hastily, knowing something was up; Adam did as he was told.  She watched as he dragged one of the homemade chairs over, made himself comfortable, and looked worriedly at her.  Becky ambled over and leaned against his chair, as if unsure she was welcome.

“Do you want to get a chair and sit down too, honey?”  Ruth invited but received a quick shake of the curls for an answer.  “Well, then, stay around close, momma wants to speak to both of you.”  Looking back to Adam, she instructed, “Now, Adam, listen to momma, for what I’m going to say is important, your very lives depend on it.”

It occurred to her that for the first time in his life she had called him Adam.  Had it not been for the way Adam Sr. had reacted when she told him she wished to name the baby Adam Jr. she would have regretted giving him the name.  Fearful of calling him little Adam because of that becoming his permanent name, she had instead called him by names of endearment, honey, darling, and suchlike.  Though he gave no reaction when she called him that, she was sure he had noticed.  Actually, her reason for doing so was because she felt the need to call him that at least once in his life.  Perhaps he would remember it.