First off, I thank the Black Rand for the gracious invitation to participate in this Wine & Old Lace event although I must also apologize for the approach I chose; I think more in terms of Maine flannel and Applejack liquor than wine and old lace especially in the historical settings of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Because I am a procrastinator at heart and practice I am going to start this with posting Chapter 1 and will continue as appropriate.
The story has the elements for several Lit categories; the romantic young lady, the wayward and insatiable wife and mother, sensuality and carnal ruination. For now it is here.
All sexual activities are between legal adults although this is also a coming of age story for a couple of the characters. For those who want every character to live out their story as they imagine it, well, I look forward to reading their endeavors. For now, I'm going down this path.
Chapter 1
...a teen comes of age in a long bygone era in rural Maine
1912, Preble Landing Road in Sebec, Maine
The leather reins were loose in the sturdy man's hands as the Percheron team of horses turned up the dirt road just past the school house. As if on cue, the hooves picked up and nostrils flared and snorted as the wagon jilted forward towards the farm up on the hill.
Leland Merriman had raised teams of work horses since he was a young fellow over twenty years earlier, always Percheron and when traveling, dressed in black leathers and trim. With sunlight glinting off the polished fastenings and the steeds in high spirts, Leland and his horses were a sight to behold.
"Git there, git" the sturdy man bellowed as the team moved into a fast trot and he stood on the buckboard to look over the south pasture as they swooshed past the blackberry bushes lining the roadway.
The girls tending to the pasture fencing looked up and watched the team moving up the hill, waving at their father.
"Gertie, you need to pull your wire tighter so we can get this done. Papa's back from town and you know what that means." Twelve year old Mildred Merriman implored of her older sister. The oldest of the girls, Sylvia was already on the run up the lane between the two fields of oats with little more than the evidence of her blue gingham just a flash in the sunlight.
"Help me, darn it." Gertie half whispered to her sister. "Mama told us we had to get this done before we could come back up to the house. Come on now."
Gertie, short for Gertrude and Leland's middle daughter, poured every ounce of her fourteen year old frame into the iron lever forcing the wire taut to the wooden post as Mildred pounded the fastener into place. She let loose of the fulcrum and the fencing stood tight and strong and then picking up the tools and what was left of the wire spool, the girls each grabbed a handle of the barrow and began pushing it up the lane toward the house and barnyard.
A partridge flushed out of the oats to the side as the girls worked their way up the hill and they watched as their father drove his team into the yard with two border collies chasing after them. Leland looked up past the smith shop and saw his wife walking toward the yard adjusting her hair and work dress with a slight smile on her lips and waved to his love. She waved back just as the younger girls made it up from the south pasture.
"Papa!" Mildred rang out as she ran towards the wagon with Gertie close behind on her young heels.
Leland Merriman was a strong, stout man, his shock of sweated red hair glistening in the bright sunlight as he hopped down and swung up both girls in his arms cradling each with a shoulder and forearm. Sylvia had already snatched up the brown leather satchel, triumphantly carrying it into the shed on her way into the big rambling farmhouse.
"Papa, was it a good trip? How much did you get?" Gertie asked while hugging her father's strong neck.
"My little girls, it was indeed a good and profitable journey but you all run along now and get washed up. Mama will have dinner ready shortly."
Leland set the girls on their feet and both of them made a beeline to the house as Nina Merriman joined her husband upon entering the home. Mrs. Merriman kept her long blond hair tied up in a French braid and wore just a slight tinge of rouge on her face and in keeping with the modesty of the times ensured her ample bosom was well secured beneath the breasted brocade of her knee length gingham dress; except for the one button she missed in her rush back to the house. Glancing down, she discreetly fastened it as they crossed the threshold.
"The stew smells wonderful, Nina and the bread too. You must have slaved in this kitchen most of the day" Leland smiled at his bride of seventeen years. "Harold, please give the blessing before we begin."
Harold looked to his Papa and smiled. All of ten years old and the youngest of the Merriman's, the request always gave him a proud purpose in the busy family and he recited his Congregational blessings with anxious approval. Mildred stymied a giggle as he stumbled a bit halfway through and Gertie gave her shin a slight nudge, just enough to cause her to sit up straight.
The Merriman family of six were of longstanding custom to take their dinner meal together at the long oak table in the dining room, Leland at the head and Nina opposite him; the two older girls, sixteen year old Sylvia and Gertie on one side and Mildred and Harold facing them. From her vantage point through the bay windows, Nina could see the smith shop as well as the carpenter shop and her mind drifted between the sentences of her husband to thoughts of those places so far from the dinner table yet so close in proximity.
Nina Merriman, neatly proper, a wife and mother, looked upon her children and husband remembering the unfastened button as the pleasures of the blacksmith seared her conscience. With a spoon of stew, a morsel of bread and her husband's adoration, her mind replayed it over again; the blacksmith's grunts as he emptied himself and used her for his pleasure. He held it in her for several moments with no concern for consequences.
It wasn't her fertile time as womenfolk measured it so Mrs. Merriman could safely bask in the pleasure of her illicit desires and it was that heat and yearning that distracted her from the table even momentarily.
"Mother! Did you hear? Mother?" Sylvia asked her bringing her out of her daydream. "Papa got top price for the calves this time!"
Nina recovered quickly. "I'm sorry, dear, I was thinking of when you girls were little and you planted those apple trees over past the first field out there." She nodded out the window past the blacksmith shop. Her eyes met Leland's without fault.
"Indeed, best price for the last four seasons, for sure." A proud Leland boasted with a grin from ear to ear.
After dinner, the delighted father handed his treats to the children and set out for the evening chores in the barn. Leland Merriman watched as the craftsmen finished up closing their shops and the blacksmith, carpenter and leatherworker who plied their trades out of buildings on the property to the benefit of the neighborhood headed to the cottages constructed for their use.
Except for the blacksmith, each had a wife and a couple children to occupy their evenings and Sundays off. Angus Philpot was the blacksmith and it was said he had a child bride several years earlier but died in labor along with the unfortunate infant. Nobody talked about it and he didn't offer up any insight into the matter so most sensible people left it alone. Leland thought it the good Christian thing to offer him a building to work his craft.
For Leland, they were men like him going about their professions and returning to their personal pursuits; ordinary lives in these ordinary times...
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High summer rolled into the cool harvest days of autumn with Macintosh apples ripe for picking and Blue Hubbard squashes piled next to the back door. Leland spent the better part of a couple days loading seasoned firewood into the shed in preparation for the long, cold winter that was fast approaching as the girls and Harold climbed ladders in the orchid picking the crisp fruit.
With beans in the oven and the ham only needing cutting before serving, Nina slipped out the kitchen door and hastened between the gilded leaves of her bedroom lilacs out of sight from the industrious chores of her husband and children until she reached the latch of the nearly empty smith shop.