Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Totally fitting for Thanksgiving week, today’s prompt is the word stuffed. The snippet is from a holiday vintage romance I want to write set in the 1950’s after the Korean War. For now it is called Mistletoe Magic. The title is temporary because there are a zillion books with that same name. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
“Mama, will Daddy still know me?”
Caught by surprise, Brenna looked around for a place to set the crisp stack of ironed sheets she carried. Securing it quickly atop an ebony dressing table, she bent down to her seven year old daughter. Wide honey colored eyes, clouded with an expression of uncertainty, locked onto hers. Longing to chase away the doubt caused by a father’s long absence, she squeezed Gwennie’s shoulders. “Darling, of course Daddy will know his best girl. He would never forget one hair on your precious noggin.”
“Are you sure?” Gwennie’s gaze flitted to an array of photographs mounted on the light green wall. “I don’t much favor those pictures.”
Setting aside her own insecurities at how Jeffrey would be when he returned to a wife and daughter he hadn’t seen in so long, Brenna gave her daughter a quick hug. She was determined to lighten the mood. “You’re a big girl now, that’s for sure, but we’ve sent Daddy pictures all along. I’m sure he knows exactly what you look like this very second.”
Her little girl brightened. “This very second?”
She tickled Gwennie under the chin and twisted the dial on the iron. “Yes, and I’m also sure he’s counting every second until he gets home and can give you a great big bear hug. Now run and check your clothes hamper. I want to get all the washing and ironing finished before the supper crowd comes in. Nita can only stay until five o’clock, and I’ll be without help after that.”
Giggling, her daughter skipped out of the room, returning a minute later with a miniature red dress. Fat dimples appeared in her cheeks. “The hamper is empty, but Miss Merribelle’s ball gown is wrinkled.”
Brenna smiled and reached for the doll dress, sniffing in the scent of lavender sachet. “We can’t have that. What do you want for supper, darling? More of that chicken and rice you had earlier?”
Soft golden curls shook vehemently. “I’m still stuffed, Mama. I think my tummy will only hold some chocolate cake.”
Thanks so much for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romance