The Traveler’s Wife
There is a young woman by the name of Nettie Jones that has become a frequent subject of gossip in our town. She’s a pretty little thing, with silky brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her voice is sweet and melodic, and she has a soft spoken and kind demeanor. She lives a fair distance away from the rest of the town, in a little cottage in the foothills of the mountains to the north. Every morning, she comes down from her home to go about her business in the town, buying groceries, chatting with shopkeepers, and humming merrily to herself. She always comes alone, so at first, the townspeople thought she was unmarried, and inquired about her living alone so far from town. “Oh, no, I don’t live alone,” she had said with a …show more content…
Jones remained firm. She was a traveler’s wife. However, Mrs. Jones was not the only oddity in our town. At times, often at night, we will feel faint tremors in the ground, accompanied by sudden harsh winds. The men of science in the town insist that it must be a natural occurrence, perhaps the result of our town’s juxtaposition to the mountains, but the more superstitious townsfolk believe it is the work of demons. Still, our quiet town lives in peace most days, and the people are far more fixated on one another than on what’s happening outside.
I myself was working for the bookstore in town, and as a result, I often encountered Mrs. Jones. Since she spent most of her time in apparent solitude, she was an avid reader, and her sunny demeanor was a great joy to see when she would come in every week. She loved to discuss books with anyone who would listen, and more often than not, I was her conversational partner; a fact I secretly prided myself with. I knew she was ostensibly married, and as a man of honor I would never pursue her, but I wished as much as the other men that her marriage truthfully was a …show more content…
“Well,” she said, lighting the stove. “He just doesn’t usually look like that. You’ll see when he gets here.” She straightened up and turned to face me, smiling. “Would you like some tea?” “That would be wonderful, thank you,” I answered with my own smile. Still, I could not shake the odd feeling I had gotten about her words. What sort of man was Mr. Jones? “You can sit down, Mr. Miller,” Mrs. Jones said from the stove. “Ah, yes, of course!” I faltered. “Thank you.” I pulled out one of the wooden chairs and slowly lowered myself into it, once again eyeing the portrait of Mr. Jones. Mrs. Jones began lighting the oil lamps, for the sun had set and the light from the dying fire was dim, and then came to join me. I managed to wrench my gaze away from his cold stare as she added more wood to the fire. “Tell me, Mr. Miller, are you also married?” she asked, sitting down across from me, her back to the door. “I don’t believe I’ve ever asked.” “Not at the moment, no,” I replied. “Though, there are certainly many beautiful women in town.” Mrs. Jones laughed. “That there are!” she said. “I do recommend marriage. Even when my darling husband is away, I still feel so
There is a young woman by the name of Nettie Jones that has become a frequent subject of gossip in our town. She’s a pretty little thing, with silky brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her voice is sweet and melodic, and she has a soft spoken and kind demeanor. She lives a fair distance away from the rest of the town, in a little cottage in the foothills of the mountains to the north. Every morning, she comes down from her home to go about her business in the town, buying groceries, chatting with shopkeepers, and humming merrily to herself. She always comes alone, so at first, the townspeople thought she was unmarried, and inquired about her living alone so far from town. “Oh, no, I don’t live alone,” she had said with a …show more content…
Jones remained firm. She was a traveler’s wife. However, Mrs. Jones was not the only oddity in our town. At times, often at night, we will feel faint tremors in the ground, accompanied by sudden harsh winds. The men of science in the town insist that it must be a natural occurrence, perhaps the result of our town’s juxtaposition to the mountains, but the more superstitious townsfolk believe it is the work of demons. Still, our quiet town lives in peace most days, and the people are far more fixated on one another than on what’s happening outside.
I myself was working for the bookstore in town, and as a result, I often encountered Mrs. Jones. Since she spent most of her time in apparent solitude, she was an avid reader, and her sunny demeanor was a great joy to see when she would come in every week. She loved to discuss books with anyone who would listen, and more often than not, I was her conversational partner; a fact I secretly prided myself with. I knew she was ostensibly married, and as a man of honor I would never pursue her, but I wished as much as the other men that her marriage truthfully was a …show more content…
“Well,” she said, lighting the stove. “He just doesn’t usually look like that. You’ll see when he gets here.” She straightened up and turned to face me, smiling. “Would you like some tea?” “That would be wonderful, thank you,” I answered with my own smile. Still, I could not shake the odd feeling I had gotten about her words. What sort of man was Mr. Jones? “You can sit down, Mr. Miller,” Mrs. Jones said from the stove. “Ah, yes, of course!” I faltered. “Thank you.” I pulled out one of the wooden chairs and slowly lowered myself into it, once again eyeing the portrait of Mr. Jones. Mrs. Jones began lighting the oil lamps, for the sun had set and the light from the dying fire was dim, and then came to join me. I managed to wrench my gaze away from his cold stare as she added more wood to the fire. “Tell me, Mr. Miller, are you also married?” she asked, sitting down across from me, her back to the door. “I don’t believe I’ve ever asked.” “Not at the moment, no,” I replied. “Though, there are certainly many beautiful women in town.” Mrs. Jones laughed. “That there are!” she said. “I do recommend marriage. Even when my darling husband is away, I still feel so