Worth Beans

“It worries me to death, Albert. It really does,” Mrs. Taylor said. She twisted her apron, nervously in her white hands before going back to cooking.

“There, there,” Albert Taylor attempted to calm his wife. “He’s a smart boy, and old enough to take care of himself.”

“I know, but…” her voiced trailed off.

“Now see here, Edith! He’s not your little baby anymore, like I say, he’s older now.”

Mrs. Taylor let out a melancholy sigh as her husband proceeded to smoke his pipe. A chilled silence filled the room. Finally she spun round.

“Oh, Albert, what if something happens? We haven’t got a thing to our name ‘cept our son, and what if – what if we lose him too? Why couldn’t you ‘a gone?”

Albert gave her a stern look from where he sat, leg propped on a nearby table, and took his pipe out of his mouth.

“For the same reason I can’t work! There’s nothin’ I can do about my leg, and believe me if there was I would do it in a second and go up to sell the cow myself. It’s a short trip and he’ll be home by mornin’ so stop fussing!” he put the pipe back in his mouth and puffed it angrily.

The night went on as such until the couple wore each other out enough to sleep and finally morning came.

Mrs. Taylor had gotten up to prepare breakfast but was unpleasantly surprised to find the cornmeal almost gone. She had known that this day would come soon, but found it hard to believe that it was actually here.

When her husband found her sitting at an empty table he know what had happened. Slowly he moved towards her and put his hand on her drooping shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, trying to sooth her. “When Jack gets home we will have the money and we’ll buy some more. We’ll be fine.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

Then the rumbling noises of a nearing wagon shook both of them from the melancholy state in which they were. Thoughts of their returning son flooded their minds and hushed their stomachs as they ran toward the door and flung it open.