Tuesday Tales: From the Word Pick

Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog where myself and a group of talented authors give you a peek at our on-going works.

Juggling three plot lines and multiple POV is something new to me, but I realized it was the only way to pull the three threads of the story into a cohesive tale. Today, we stay in France with Murielle, whose thread is vital to the unfolding drama in New France.

So, from The Price of Courage, The Canadiana Series, Book Two, I give you today’s post based on the word prompt, PICK!

Enjoy!

“Supper,” Murielle called after setting the table, pleased when she heard the sound of footsteps thundering above. Returning to the kitchen, she picked up the ladle and gave the stew one last stir before reaching for the bowls.

Living at home again after so many years in Caen wasn’t easy, accustomed as she’d been to giving orders rather than taking them, but her niece and uncle had welcomed her with open arms, and as the poor relative with no other family, where could she go?

Beatrice wasn’t feeling well, this pregnancy harder on her than the previous ones had been, so Murielle had agreed to take over the young woman’s duties as hostess at her father’s table tonight. Once the early family supper here was over, she would pack her valise for a few days’ stay, change into her best gown and heaviest cloak, cross the orchard, and walk the hundred yards to the dowager house. Since there was an early-rising full moon and it had yet to snow, the short walk would be a cool but pleasant one.

Strange how fate worked. Within weeks of her mother’s passing, Beatrice had announced the pending birth of a sixth child. Her father had insisted on switching homes with his daughter, giving her the larger of the two houses on the small estate, asking only that she serve as his hostess when necessary, stepping in to replace his beloved Marigot, something Beatrice had willingly done until now. Murielle was pleased to have been asked to take on her aunt’s role.

After ladling the thick pork stew into the bowls, Murielle set them on the tray. She enjoyed helping with the children and the meals, assisting her uncle when he entertained like tonight, but she missed her girls. Sophie had sailed for the colonies in April, and if God was on their side, Isabelle had stolen aboard the same ship.

If she’d failed to do so, she’d still managed to elude the Chevalier d’Angrignon. Come spring, after the birth of this child, Murielle would buy passage on a bride ship bound for New France as she and Isabelle had planned, hoping she could be reunited with the only children she’d ever mothered. In the meantime, she would stay here with her family and enjoy their company one last time.

That’s it. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales.