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main | table of contents Copyright © 2003, S. Y. Affolee 40 A New Year Verity stood on the shoreline, not far from the light house, with her coat collar pulled up and her scarf wrapped around her neck and half of her face. Her hat was covering her badly cut hair which was already growing out and the tips of her ears. She stamped her booted feet and watched the winter sea lap along the land. She felt numb, but the feeling only extended as much as her fingers. She had forgotten her gloves. The afternoon sun of the new year was a bright strong yellow overhead. The clear night had extended into the day. There was no chance of snow at the moment. The sea gently roared in its lulling white noise and then a sudden squawk sounded overhead. She looked up and saw a lone crow flying up from the south. “I’m sure I’m going to be switched to another doctor who actually will care to cure me,” said Gammell. He was standing beside her, staring out onto the sea. “I’m hoping to convince him that I’m already cured.” “Maybe you should start convincing your sister first,” said Verity. She clenched her fingers trying to get some feeling back into them. “Maybe. Perhaps you should come with me when I next visit her. I’m sure she’ll listen to you.” “You think so?” “I know so.” They were silent for a moment. The lone crow had decided to land nearby and was walking toward them, his head wobbling back and forth as he placed one leg in front of the other. He let out a loud greeting caw. “I forgot my gloves,” Verity said finally. “My fingers are cold.” “Give me your hands.” She held out her bare hands which he took in his own gloved hands. He rubbed them and then blew on them. His breath tickled. “About a week ago, my uncle sent me a letter.” “Oh?” “I had read it and then promptly forgotten about it with all the things that have been happening. He says that he would like for me to visit.” She paused and then said, “You can come with me if you’d like to.” “Is that an invitation?” She nodded. “Where does he live?” “Overseas.” He held her hands. “Are your hands warm now?” “I wish I hadn’t forgotten those gloves.” She shoved her hands back into her pockets and she looked up at him. His gaze was glinting with humor even if he wasn’t smiling. “Why don’t we go inside,” he suggested. “I can make the tea.” “You want to make everything,” she replied. They both walked back up the beach toward the rough hewn stairs leading up the hill and back toward the lighthouse. The crow standing on the beach watched them disappear over the top step before spreading his wings and taking flight.  |