Wicker Baskets
an excerpt

The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting its orange glow throughout the dimly lit room. Julia Barnes watched the flames intently as they licked the air, devouring it for their sustenance as the minutes ticked by until Christmas Day finally arrived. Now twenty-one years old, the auburn-haired girl wished dearly for her father to come home, but knew that her wish could not be granted because he was away on business in Boston. She leaned against her mother’s shoulder and complained about her father’s absence. “I miss him dearly,” she explained.

“I understand, child,” was the reply, “for I miss him as well. But no amount of moaning will resolve the issue.”

“Pleasanton is never the same without him,” Julia remarked. “If he would only take the time to spend with his only daughter, he would be so much happier than he already is.”

“It cannot be helped,” sighed Mrs. Barnes. “We must spend the Eve of our Lord’s birth without him.”

Mr. Barnes was a wealthy landowner in Pleasanton, Massachusetts. Julia was his only daughter, and he had no sons. In her early childhood, he had been more active with the family, taking time on Saturdays and on Sundays after church to play with Julia, teach her interesting things such as how to skip stones on the surface of the pond, and read to her in order to increase her mastery of the King’s English. Now, in her adulthood, he was always away on business to Boston or Plymouth, and sometimes he ventured out of state for weeks on end, making trips as far as the Carolinas.

She knew not why he wanted to separate himself from his own kin, nor why he desired money so much as to be constantly doing business. One thing, though, was for certain, and that was that he never spent more than three weeks at home, and when he did he was utterly exhausted for the vast majority of the time.

As Julia stared at the crackling embers in the fireplace, the heat began to lull her to sleep. As her eyelids grew heavy, and her eyes burned from fatigue and filled with tears, she dreamed of a fat, jolly man sliding down the chimney bearing gifts. She knew he didn’t exist, but she was still somewhat of a child at heart and allowed herself this one liberty.

Finally, as the world faded into nothingness, she was jarred from her half-asleep state by a sharp knock at the door. “I will answer it,” she mumbled, standing up and stretching her arms momentarily, then readjusting her dress to its most comfortable position. She shuffled to the door and pulled it open to a pair of jolly faces with cheeks red from the cold: her dearest friend Beau Ainsworth and his sister Lacey.

“We come bearing gifts,” Beau announced, teeth chattering with the cold.

“Hurry yourselves in,” Julia urged. “I wouldn’t want you to catch your death of cold.” She shut and locked the door as they entered and shed their coats, placing them on the coat rack. “We have some leftover food from dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“No thank you,” replied Beau. “I am quite full from my own dinner.”

“The same can’t be said for me,” Lacey stated. “He ate all the food and I was left with nothing. Can you direct me to the table?”

Julia gave her a hasty direction, and made her way with Beau to the dining room, where the food had not been removed from the table, due to the estate’s servants being on leave. She sat down with him and watched as Lacey ate.

The young girl was only fourteen years old, but acted much younger at times. She was always bursting out with loud, sometimes inane speech at the worst possible times, and she ate as if the food was going to sprout legs and walk off.

“It’s dead already, for heaven’s sake,” muttered Beau as he passed a contemptuous look to his sister. “Eat like a lady.”

“Hang ladylikeness;” Lacey replied with a full mouth, “I’m famished!”