The apartment was starting to lose the last of the darkness when a loud knocking woke her. Who in the world would dare to knock on her door at this ungodly hour? she thought.
Getting out of bed, she grabbed her pile of skirts. One by one, she slowly put them on. She knew each stitch, each flaw, and the perfection of the skirts she layered on. She had sewn them one by one. Each skirt was a work of art in its simplicity. The color combination, along with texture and patterns, is what made each unique.
She was down to only six skirts left. She made a mental note to schedule time to get to the city for fabric shopping.
Sniffing the air, she only smelled the bakery next door. She was safe from a fire in her building. The person still pounding at her front door would not be bringing good news. She would need her armor of handmade skirts to keep her grounded.
Nothing good ever came from someone knocking on a front door at dawn.
The pounding noises became louder as each skirt was lovingly layered over the other and fastened for the day. Her ritual of morning dress was ruined beyond repair. Grabbing her Winter shawl, she made her way to the front door.
Taking a deep breath, she stood on tiptoe and opened the small window in her front door. She proceeded to ask how she might be of help. The reply from her hallway was yelled at in a language she didn't understand. Sighing, she opened the door to better communicate with the band of men she had seen through her tiny window.
Men in uniforms filled the hallway to her apartment on the second floor. One man stood out among them. No words came out of his mouth as he looked at her with eyes that see into a soul. This man was no ordinary policeman. The officer didn't have to speak to be listened to.
Her spine straightened, knowing what was ahead would not be over soon. Looking straight into the policeman's black eyes, she asked if she could help him again. Adding that she only spoke English.
The officer's eyes widened slightly when he heard her voice. No one noticed but her. He nodded his head at her. A deep-clipped voice called out a name. A man barely out of his teens came forward. With a nervous stance, he saluted the officer and waited for orders.
She waited patiently as the exchange was made from the officer to the young recruit. All she could hope for now was the young man spoke a bit of English and had not lied about how much.
In broken English, she was asked if she had made lunch.
The look of confusion on her face must have been seen by the officer in charge. He started berating the young man. The lady held up one hand, quietly saying the word "Stop." while looking into the eyes of the officer, pleading for him to hold on.
Grabbing the young recruit's hand, she looked him in the eye. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice, telling him she did make lunch each day. She inquired if they needed food, knowing this wasn't the reason they had knocked on her door at dawn. Nevertheless, she used the question to try and unravel why a troop of soldiers was standing at her door at an ungodly hour of the day.
The young recruit kept bringing up lunches. The poor young man spoke about selling food. She tried to explain she didn't sell food. He kept going, saying the exact English phrases over and over again. She was ready to pull her hair out. Glancing at the officer in charge, she could tell he was also at the end of his patience.
Concentrated on figuring out what the young recruit was saying, she had missed her name being called from the street. The commotion, reaching ear-splitting proportions, brought everyone in the room out of the daze they had been in a while trying to find a way to communicate.
She ran to the balcony to see what the fuss was about. What greeted her eyes was a sight to behold. Tears started to form. The whole neighborhood was there. Shop owners, the homeless, and the elderly look up at her calling her name.
Through the crowd, she could see a small path opening up. A person was running like their life depended on it. Grabbing her glasses, she noticed the officer was right beside her. His face showed no emotion at all. Glasses on, she looked again to see who was running up the path and saw her son.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she turned to the officer. With hand gestures, she explained who was running through the crowd. She made motions to bring him up to the apartment. All would soon be figured out. Waving to the crowd below, she bowed in thanks. She owed them for sending someone up the mountain to fetch her son.
Turning away from the balcony, she walked to the front door to see her son's face as soon as he made it up the stairs.
Out of breath, half-dressed, the man walked straight to his Mother, enveloping her with a big hug, happy to see her alive and untouched. He then turned to the officer. Speaking perfect Spanish, he asked what the cause of their visit was.
Spanish flew faster and faster between the officer and her son. Soon it grew louder as her son kept shaking his head no. Tired of not knowing what was going on in her own home, she once more stood between men talking. Holding up her hand, she quietly said: "Stop."
She had everyone's attention. She asked why they were there. She had things to get done today. She didn't have time for any more foolishness. She knew she had done nothing wrong.
Her son turned to her, explaining the soldiers were at her house to arrest her for selling food on the black market. She looked at him like he had grown a third eye. Laughing, she asked why in the world she would do that. Not to leave out, she had no idea how to even go about embarking on something like that.
Her son explained, worry showing on his face. They had evidence that all led to her. Her spine straightened even further as she turned to the officer in charge and said one word. "Where!"
Raising an eyebrow, the officer barked out a command. Shuffling could be heard as something was being passed through the ranks. Catching a slight glance at the package, her eyes widened. A thing that wasn't lost on the officer in charge.
Staring her in the face was the care packages she made for anyone to take for free when in need. Oh, Lord...
Walking up, she grabbed the new colorful paper bag knowing it was hers. She would spend hours doodling with colored pencils on paper bags, trying to teach herself to draw. If she liked how the bag turned out, it was then filled with meals she made for the hungry to survive.
She moved to the village five months ago and saw many needy people. Not being wealthy, she could only do so much to help. People are proud. The ones that need help the most often never ask but sit silently and suffer.
She had noticed she was making too much food for one person to eat in her first few weeks. It is hard to lose a lifelong habit of cooking for more than one person. Her refrigerator was iffy at best. Frozen food was never going to happen. She needed to learn quickly how to pare down her recipes. She loved to cook and bake. It wasn't something she was willing to give up.
Three days in a row of eating the same food before it went to waste was getting on her nerves. That night she grabbed her first paper bags and started doodling. While her creative mind was occupied with trying to make a frog look like a frog. Her practical mind was looking for solutions to her food overage problem.
Sun shining through her back balcony woke her out of her doodling trance. She quickly ran down the stairs to the bakery next door. Buying three small loaves of day-old bread, she smiled the whole way home. She was never going to have to eat leftovers again.
Waking the following day, earlier than usual, she grabbed the recipes found the night before on the internet and started to bake. Noon came and went. Her house smelled delicious. She looked a mess. Her newest handmade skirt had flour all over it. She added learning how to make aprons to her mental list.
Dusting herself off as best she could, the local basket store was next on her agenda. She needed a basket that would hold up in any weather. One was big enough to be seen but not so big that anyone walking by saw it. People with full bellies, most often, never look down.
Home, basket in hand, and fresh fruit, she looked honestly at her kitchen and laughed. Every flat surface was covered in flour. On top of the flour were neatly wrapped packages filled with tasty, healthy food meant for days of travel before it spoiled. She had made enough food to feed an army.
Filling the sink with warm soapy water, she cleaned up her mess before being overrun with bugs looking for a free meal. The kitchen was clean. It was now her turn to wash all the flour off of herself. Shaking out her skirt over the balcony railing, she pinned it to air out overnight.
Freshly clean and happy, she filled the first three bags with daily meals. Using Google translate, she wrote in Spanish on each pack, "You are Needed." The next time she talked to her son, she would get the correct translations for other sayings to add to the bags.
Basket in hand, she made her way down the stairs as the sun lowered in the sky. It wasn't safe for a woman to be alone at night, so this was the trickiest part of her plan. She placed the basket on the sidewalk, covered by the low-lying bush, in front of her house. A prayer the right people found the food she had spent all day making was thrown in for good luck.
Morning came. She rushed downstairs as fast and quietly as she could. The basket needed to be off the sidewalk before the rest of the village woke up, even if it was still full. Opening the gate, she glanced where the basket should have been and saw that it wasn't there.
It hurt her heart to see someone had felt the need to take even the basket. Taking a deep breath of the clean morning air, she turned to go back inside. Bright colors caught her eye, making her look back at her front yard.
Her basket was filled with wildflowers of all shapes and colors in the middle of her small yard. Tears streaming down her face, she slowly picked up the basket and took it back inside.
So began the best part of her waking day for the last four months.
How did something so right become a black market scandal? It was free food, after all...
A gentle hand touching her shoulder brought her out of the past. She gazed up at the man and said one word. "How?"
The officer in charge looked around the apartment with steady eyes. He glanced at the small women before him and told everyone to wait outside in the front yard.
The woman's son didn't want to leave his Mother alone. From the tone of the conversation between the officer and her son, she knew she would be safe. She hugged her son, telling him not to worry. Everything would work out. She had a good feeling about the rest of the day.
While her apartment was cleaned out of men, she waited on her couch, the colored lunch bag still in hand. She finally heard the front door close and lock. It was time to figure out where all went wrong.
The officer walked over to the couch. Bowing before her, he, in perfect English, introduced himself as Antonio.
She stood with a smile, knowing already he spoke some English. He had been too patient before not to have known what was being said. She held out her hand to shake. Introducing herself as Kathryn, his eyes widened a bit.
Kathryn pointed to the couch. It was best to get comfortable while he explained how her free meals ended up on the black market and why!
Antonio sat down, leaned his head back, and started to explain.
Three months ago, a homeless man traveling to the next town was stopped by two soldiers. The man had one of her bags of meals in his possession. The soldiers knew this man was homeless and concluded that he had stolen the bag from town.
The homeless man tried to explain he didn't steal it. It was a present from the Mother of the man known as Jesus, that lived in the mountains. The soldiers looked inside the bag carefully to see two small packages wrapped in wax paper. One of the soldiers reached in, grabbed a wrapped bundle, and opened it to reveal a muffin. He split it in half, handing a piece to his partner.
The man watched the sweets he was saving being eaten right before him. He wasn't a dumb man, just one needing a shower. He grabbed the bag back from the soldiers. He went on to explain that the food was special. If not given to someone as a gift, those who tried to eat it would soon have bad things happen. He explained if they wanted to trade with him for the last package inside or the bag, he would give them his food with an open heart.
The men sneered at him, grabbed the bag, pushed him to the ground, and walked off to where they had come from.
The homeless man knew word would soon get out about the bags full of delicious food. A plan had to be made. Anyone caught with the food on them would be in danger from the soldiers. Pushing himself off the ground, he returned to town to spread the word.
"Do not give away the food for free. It must be given to someone with an open heart, or bad phenomenons will soon befall the person(s) that take the packages."
The two soldiers who had stolen the man's food fell down a ravine the next day and died.
Antonio stopped speaking when Kathryn jumped off the couch after hearing the last part of the story. She stood looking at Antonio with her palms up, mouth open, yet no words came. Antonio watched as she started to pace. Seeing her in distress, he knew she needed a distraction. He asked Kathryn if he could have a cup of coffee.
With a glare in his direction, Kathryn walked to the kitchen to the sound of Antonio chuckling...
Kathryn started the ritual of making coffee. Her hands took over the morning routine. This left her time to take deep breaths and calm her beating heart. Thoughts racing in her brain started to form patterns. By the time the coffee was ready, she was as calm as she could be given her circumstances.
Careful not to spill the hot coffee on herself, Kathryn walked across the room to hand Antonio his cup. When their eyes met, she asked how he came by all the information he had. She wanted to know how one freak accident caused the authorities to want to arrest her.
Over many cups of coffee, the story came out. The homeless man, Carlos, had told everyone he knew what had happened to the two men who died at the bottom of the ravine. From there, rumors spread far and wide about how the bags of food were blessed to give travelers safety.
The few who had taken the bags against the will of rightful owners did not all die. It seemed their lives became cursed once in the ownership of the bags. Some of the people got demoted from their work or lost their jobs. Some suffered broken bones from freak accidents. While others suffered a rash that itched and never went away.
Word got out that the bags were cursed. People who had gotten the bags rightfully went on to prosper at an incredible rate. One man found gold just lying on the ground. Others were cured of illnesses they had had for years.
When rummers spread of people finding treasure, everyone wanted the bags. At this point, no one knew where the bags came from. Those who wished for riches were not willing to be cursed for life. The search for people who might have a blessed bag was on.
A few people sold their bags for large sums of money. The problem was that the good fortune was only for those that initially procured the bags. The search began in earnest for the person making the bags. Every town was searched within a hundred-mile radius from where the soldiers stopped Carlos. No one could find any new bags being made. This made people even more upset.
It was at this point Captain Antonio was called in. He was assigned to stop the craziness that took over the county's people. Through Captain Antonio's investigation, he discovered this weird phenomenon had started with a homeless man named Carlos.
Once Carlos was questioned privately, Captain Antonio had all the necessary answers. That night as the sun was just setting, the Captain could be seen sitting in the park across the street from Kathryn's house. He witnessed her sneaking out and hiding the basket, complete with colorful bags, under the low-lying bush branches in her front yard.
Antonio soon blended into the background as night came. Keeping his eyes on the basket, he watched as people slowly approached with wildflowers in their hands. Out went a colorful bag, and in went the wildflowers. The bags were quickly covered with blankets, and the person walked away. He watched this happen three times through the night. The last person took the basket from its hiding spot and moved it into the woman's front yard.
Just before dawn, Captain Antonio saw the lovely lady come outside in her robe to pick up the basket of flowers. She held it to her chest and gave it a big hug. Looking around at the coming day, she had a smile that stopped Antonio from breathing.
Two days later, on this very day, the Captain and his company knocked on the lady's door to find out what was happening.
Antonio watched Kathryn's face slowly change into a face filled with laughter and love as she looked out her balcony window. Two tiny hands could be seen taking the clothespins off the skirt she had hung out last night. Antonio shifted on the couch to stand but felt a hand on his leg and saw Kathryn shaking her head back and forth. Once the skirt was gone and the clothespins were back on the metal railing, Kathryn turned to Antonio to ask what was to be done about the food bags.
Antonio commented that the women in their Village all seemed to enjoy wearing colorful skirts. Kathryn looked him straight in the eye, winked, and proceeded to say she had no idea what he was talking about and didn't they have more important things to discuss than clothes right now? Laughter barked out of Antonio's mouth before he could hold it back. Shaking his head, he paced around the room, trying to regain his composure.
What happens next is only hearsay. The Village could have started a rumor that might or might not have been formed to protect the lady they had come to love in so short of time. Or the rumor could have been created by the few people listening at the front door. You will have to decide. It goes like this...
Captain Antonio squared his shoulders and stood tall in front of Kathryn. He explained the problem with the bags and her safety had already been taken care of as they spoke. A confused Kathryn looked back at him like he had grown a third, fourth, and fifth eye.
The Captain explained that they had been alone in her apartment for over four hours. She was now officially under his protection. The whole Village had witnessed this, so there would be no doubt in anyone's mind. She was now safer than any other woman in the county. Only a fool would think to touch his women.
Over the next few hours, a lot of yelling could be heard from Kathryn's apartment. None of the residents seemed phased. Even her son had a smile on his face. It was just a matter of time before they saw who won the fight.
The two adults finally stopped yelling and started talking. A few hours later, Captain Antonio could be seen leaving the apartment. Right before he reached the street, he turned and looked up toward Kathryn's balcony to see her waving goodbye. He smiled and blew her a kiss into the wind.
The next evening and every night after that, Captain Antonio and Kathryn can be seen going for an evening walk. The town square is the first place they stop with a basket filled with mouth-watering smells. The basket is left on a bench, and the two walk off to get their evening exercise.
A few hours later, they are seen walking back through the park to retrieve the basket. Once in front of Kathryn's apartment, the couple hug, and Kathryn runs to her front door, only to reappear on her balcony waving. Antonio blows her a kiss into the wind and walks off to his own home each night.
Some say Antonio sneaks back each night. Others say this isn't true.
You, Dear Reader, will have to decide.
The
End
~@Snook
All photos are mine unless otherwise stated.
