May's Luck

The dry leaves on the trees fluttered to the ground aimlessly, across the November sky. The ground was dry as the night settled in, May cast a resigned glance at the plants that had withered in her large garden. She had wept her share of tears and wished she could perhaps turn her tears to water her plants. The drought had hit the little Oak City with much grievousness, they all had no way to make their plants survive, the ground was hungry and the nearby streams dried up. The little water they got from the town pump was just what they all used to stay alive themselves. They could only watch as their plants withered one after the other and the gradual leanness in the portion of food served on the dinner table.

Most families had begun cutting down on their food intake. Drying and preserving whatever produce they all had in stores. But May knew that without her harvesting from her garden, she would not be able to last the winter herself. She had no food in her store and was largely depending on what her garden had to offer to feed. She had even begun harvesting as it is.

Being a widow was hard for her to bear, especially a widow whose dead husband’s diet was basically alcoholic drinks and his smoking pipe. He spent more on drinking than having real food in his belly. May could not say she missed the man, he was a pesky fly she was glad to be rid of, and she was not sorry. He was a burden to her both in life and death. He had been a chronic debtor at the wine bar and his creditors had made her life a living hell asking for the money her late husband owed them.

Creditors that left her dry, she could face, but she could not face famine that left her with no food. She had no skill whatsoever except for tilling the ground. The neighbours had all praised her, Her cabbages were of the best quality and they were always fresh and juicy. The food she grew was the best. She had paid off most of her husband’s creditors with the last of her foodstuff that she had stored away leaving her all hungry.

Sitting at her window, she laid herself weakly onto the chair, she might as well sit and watch her crops die one after the other. She was about to slip into an uneasy sleep when she heard the howling of the night owl from her barn roof, something was amiss, but whatever it was had to be good, she had had enough of unpleasant incidents in her short life.

A short while, she could hear the hoofbeats of horses and the sounds of a wagon in her compound, which was odd. No one visited her since her husband's death. Apart from the market days when she took her to produce to sell before her husband’s death.

Rising weakly to her feet, she dragged them tenderly after her as she made her way outside.

Startled was an understatement to the shock she got when she opened her door. Mathew Richards stood in front of her porch with his potbelly and fresh and round cheeks they disgraced her thin and hollowed one. Her stomach had thinned and even her ribs were jutting against her as she walked.

Matthew threw her one of his smiles, she was not fazed. She was not a blushing bride anymore just a middle-aged widow awaiting her death.

“Say Richards what brings you to my compound?” She managed to say, trying hard not to let her eyes stray to the food the wagon carried, there were tubers of yam, and even tomatoes, corn, crates of eggs arranged neatly in the bed of the wagon. She swallowed a loud gulp of air. The imaginary aroma of scrambled eggs hit her nostrils forcing her to look at the robust male in front of her, evidence of a well-fed man.

He laughed cheerfully,” I have brought a little token of kindness to your doorstep, Mary”

Mary forced her eyes to the man’s face and not the appealing faces of the food in his wagon” I do not recall doing you a favour, Richards.” She deadpanned, not liking his leering smile.

“Oh, you might not remember as you were not a part of it. Your husband did” He said all too cheerfully, smiling at her happily making his fat cheeks bulge.

Mary could feel the bitter taste of life on her lips as she heard her late husband’s involvement in Richards visit. Whatever it was, she might like Richard visiting her with food but once it involved her late husband’s he was an embodiment of heartache to her.

“No words?” Richard teased.

All form of pleasantness she might have harboured at his coming was gone, her voice shrill and cold, she asked gruffly “ What am I suppose to say? I have never been comforted by any news coming from my late husband’s endeavors so I might as well resign to my fate. What bad news do you have me? Jack was not the type to make me happy during his lifetime, so why would he do so after his death”

“You might be in a for a surprise, Mary dear” Richard replied her fondly, eyeing her tenderly, a tint of a smile on his lips.

“What surprise Mr Richards?”

“Your husband worked for me briefly during the last days of his life and he left me a will to ensure you are well provided for and that is what I came to do. He refused to take all his pay as he knew he was dying, he bid me bring them all to you. And Jack said he was sorry for never feeding you enough. He said he was sorry for never tending your garden and leaving it all hungry Mary.”

Mary’s leg’s almost gave way under her, laughing bitterly at the irony of her life. Joy sipping into her soul

“I have seen the state of your garden Mary. I have here some fertilizers that would help the plants grow and also I will have my boys feel up your water trough for your plants. You will have enough to last this drought Mary dear. I do have a large reservoir back home so you should not lack. “

Mary staggered backward, her back hitting the hard plain of her door.

Richard took a step forward to help her but she righted herself quickly” Jack said he was sorry he said he was sorry he never ate your food Mary. He said he was sorry he was never able to be a real husband to you. He said he was sorry he left you so hungry Mary. “

Tears slipping from her eyes, Mary asked” Why are you so late in coming, Richards? I thought it was surely the end for me. I cannot beg I was waiting for my death Richards” She wept silently, the tremor wrecking her thin body.

“I am sorry about that, I was not in Oak City when he died. I had gone to check my other farms in the other cities. That was what delayed me. I am sorry for leaving you hungry as well. “

She shook her head in tears, resting her eyes on her husband’s gravesite. She let her tears slip, for someone who abhorred food, he sure had a unique way of saying sorry. He had been hungry all his life and now he had used his dying breath to save her from that ending herself. Jack, her loving and ruddy husband, who had lost all will to leave after leaving their child to hunger. He had stopped eating himself and handed himself over to drinking.

But she would not do it, she would live a life where she would be surrounded by good food and a healthy environment.