Read Online Tears of Leyden by Naomi Baysinger-Ott - Free Book Online
Authors: Naomi Baysinger-Ott
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glance to the steam rising off the plate and my mouth waters.
He waits, and when I don’t respond he comes forward and takes up the plate. I almost protest, but instead of moving away from me, he moves towards. For one awful moment I believe he will spoon feed me, but instead he stops a good foot away and holds it out to me. “You can eat in my room if you like.”
I can’t get myself to understand the simple proposal. He is watching me kindly, not in any way insincere. I look back down to his hands and slowly take the plate. It is warm and smooth. He steps back after I have done so and I can’t help but wish he hadn’t brought over the plate as my stomach twists with discomfort. I step back and manage to knock into the door. I am sure I am blushing now. I hate myself.
Thankfully, when I say nothing, he turns away and picks up the bolt to kneel next to the stove. He begins to handle something unknown to me and I turn and walk back into the room.
After I close the door, I step to the bed and sit down on the edge and close my eyes. My hands are so tight on the plate it takes me a while to loosen them. I breathe deep and sigh with thanks to God. I don’t know whether to eat or to sacrifice it. All my people are starving, and here I sit, not inches from food I could eat freely and without price. The smell of the food is comforting, and makes me remember how much my stomach is cramping. I look down to the plate and after a few more breaths I poke the fork into the eggs.
Chapter 8
The eggs and side dish, whatever it was, did well for me both physically and mentally. It was savory and very good cooking, not that I would’ve minded if it was not so good; I was shoveling it down so fast I hardly tasted it.
I had gone nowhere after eating, until there was a knock at the door and I was forced to answer. Nadeje offered to take my plate and asked if I was better. I merely gave the plate and nodded to his words and then closed and locked the door after him.
I lay here now, unsure of what to do, my stomach feeling full and unused to being this way. It has at least been a few hours that I have spent here, and I am pretty sure I should go out. I also don’t go out. It must be evening again, and everything outside would look dim as it does when the sun sets below the wall. Closing my eyes, I find that here is the only place I can find peace. I stay here, ready for sleep if that is the path of least resistance.
When I wake up, it is sunny outside. It must be morning, and for some reason, I am hungry. Not just hungry, but starving. I blame it on my conscience knowing that food is within reach here. I empty my thoughts from my sleep and pray a moment for Meyleia and moeder. It hurts, but knowing that I could mentally be helping them in some way, it makes me feel like maybe my survival wasn’t for nothing, maybe because I am free, I could help.
When I am done I unhurriedly step back to the door and open it. Nadeje sits at the table with his front to me. He is holding some papers, and his brow is crinkled slightly. When I enter the room and turn after shutting the door, his gaze rises to me. The way his face dims its expression, I know something is wrong. I feel my pulse begin to pound in anticipation and I know the surging feeling I feel in my stomach is not something I can ignore or call coincidence. I want to ask him, to beg him, to shout at him to tell me or stop looking so grave, but I cannot move my tongue. I am stuck.
“What is it?” It is the first time I have ever addressed him before him me.
He watches me a while longer, every feature and crease in his face seeming to present concern. “I just…” he looks down and runs his fingers across the seal of an envelope. As though feeling it is keeping him from focusing, he sets it and the rest of the papers onto the table. When he looks up, his eyes are gentle and pitiful, something I would rather have no share of from him. “I received word…” he seems like
He waits, and when I don’t respond he comes forward and takes up the plate. I almost protest, but instead of moving away from me, he moves towards. For one awful moment I believe he will spoon feed me, but instead he stops a good foot away and holds it out to me. “You can eat in my room if you like.”
I can’t get myself to understand the simple proposal. He is watching me kindly, not in any way insincere. I look back down to his hands and slowly take the plate. It is warm and smooth. He steps back after I have done so and I can’t help but wish he hadn’t brought over the plate as my stomach twists with discomfort. I step back and manage to knock into the door. I am sure I am blushing now. I hate myself.
Thankfully, when I say nothing, he turns away and picks up the bolt to kneel next to the stove. He begins to handle something unknown to me and I turn and walk back into the room.
After I close the door, I step to the bed and sit down on the edge and close my eyes. My hands are so tight on the plate it takes me a while to loosen them. I breathe deep and sigh with thanks to God. I don’t know whether to eat or to sacrifice it. All my people are starving, and here I sit, not inches from food I could eat freely and without price. The smell of the food is comforting, and makes me remember how much my stomach is cramping. I look down to the plate and after a few more breaths I poke the fork into the eggs.
Chapter 8
The eggs and side dish, whatever it was, did well for me both physically and mentally. It was savory and very good cooking, not that I would’ve minded if it was not so good; I was shoveling it down so fast I hardly tasted it.
I had gone nowhere after eating, until there was a knock at the door and I was forced to answer. Nadeje offered to take my plate and asked if I was better. I merely gave the plate and nodded to his words and then closed and locked the door after him.
I lay here now, unsure of what to do, my stomach feeling full and unused to being this way. It has at least been a few hours that I have spent here, and I am pretty sure I should go out. I also don’t go out. It must be evening again, and everything outside would look dim as it does when the sun sets below the wall. Closing my eyes, I find that here is the only place I can find peace. I stay here, ready for sleep if that is the path of least resistance.
When I wake up, it is sunny outside. It must be morning, and for some reason, I am hungry. Not just hungry, but starving. I blame it on my conscience knowing that food is within reach here. I empty my thoughts from my sleep and pray a moment for Meyleia and moeder. It hurts, but knowing that I could mentally be helping them in some way, it makes me feel like maybe my survival wasn’t for nothing, maybe because I am free, I could help.
When I am done I unhurriedly step back to the door and open it. Nadeje sits at the table with his front to me. He is holding some papers, and his brow is crinkled slightly. When I enter the room and turn after shutting the door, his gaze rises to me. The way his face dims its expression, I know something is wrong. I feel my pulse begin to pound in anticipation and I know the surging feeling I feel in my stomach is not something I can ignore or call coincidence. I want to ask him, to beg him, to shout at him to tell me or stop looking so grave, but I cannot move my tongue. I am stuck.
“What is it?” It is the first time I have ever addressed him before him me.
He watches me a while longer, every feature and crease in his face seeming to present concern. “I just…” he looks down and runs his fingers across the seal of an envelope. As though feeling it is keeping him from focusing, he sets it and the rest of the papers onto the table. When he looks up, his eyes are gentle and pitiful, something I would rather have no share of from him. “I received word…” he seems like
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