There was a loud crash in the hallway. With a quick glance at the pots on the stove, Rachel dried her hands and stepped out of the kitchen to see what was the racket.
Down the hall she watched as her daughter and eldest son picked up the drying frame she had left propped near the door earlier, the dim sunlight flooding from the door.
“Sorry Ma, we didna see it.” Lisbeth unclasped her cloak and tossed it to her brother. “How’s the food coming? Anything I can help with.”
Grumbling to himself Ryan hung the cloak and called down the hall, “Ma, I’m gonna bring the other frames under cover, we got weather coming in.”
“That’s fine Ryan, where your Da and brother?”
With a shrug as he headed out the door, grabbing a towel as he went. “Ian was playing around and fell in the river when Beth came to get us, so they’re still cleaning the catch. ”
Rolling her eyes Rachel turned back to the kitchen, Lisbeth following behind.
“Lisbeth, you go mind the stew. I’ll get some bread out for dinner.”
The pair worked quietly for a while, listening to the sounds of the boys getting the gear put away.
“Ma,” Lisbeth paused in her work. “Has there been any word from the fleet?”
“No still nothing, but I’m sure Tom is fine. The merchant ships get behind schedule all the time.”
“But Ma, been a month, that’s too long.”
“I’ll call the harbor master after we eat.”
Ryan had just swiped the last piece of bread from his brother when the pounding came from the door.
“Who would be out in this mess. Ryan go check the door.”
“No Ryan, you finish. I’ll get it.” Lisbeth stood and headed down the hall.
Opening the door she looked out into the rain, seeing the harbor master standing soaked to his skin.
“Lisbeth, I’m sorry…”
This is my first attempt at the flash fiction challenge over at The Speakeasy, so far I’m liking the format they use for the weekly competitions.
The image for this post is by Graham (grahamwell) from flickr.