CoffeeShop Blues: 2015 Traveler's Edition - Page 73

Jeremy Frost The Waterfall By: Martin David Edwards Eirwin tugs at her bonnet then covers her neck with her hand. A jolt from the track prompts her to turn around to Derwen, holding the reigns of the horse in his outstretched hands. He stares ahead, his blue eyes burning a path through the trees like crystals. In the distance, they can hear water drumming like a sheet of sound. “I wanted the flowers,” she says. Derwen tightens the reins in response, his knuckles turning white. “The wedding,” she continues. “For tomorrow, while the scents are still fresh.” As the cart swerves through a puddle, he clucks at the horse. Eirwin’s mother had frowned in the kitchen at the request; her hand paused in a bowl of dough. There were the wedding preparations to be finished and her sister would be arriving later with a baby to feed. However, Eirwin had replied that she needed the air. Her mother had nodded, a fleck of dough dropping from her fingertips. She could take Derwen in the cart and was to be back before her sister came. 73