LOCKDOWN

By Tessa Harvey 

Part One (Of Two)

    The carpenter paused from planing the edges of the rough planks. He leaned back on his heels, wiping his sleeve over his tired eyes.

    This part of the work seemed endless. Curls of wood, finely shaved, decorated his hair and clothes. The aromatic scent of fresh cypress sawdust tickled his nostrils. There was scant shade up here. The sun seemed to pour over him in molten waves. Sweat dripped down his face. The heat seemed more oppressive and heavy. The water bottle was empty.

    "Come for a drink, mate?" voices called from below.

    Smiling, the carpenter leaned over the polished rail. He had carved etchings and curliques on parts of the wood, unable to resist some ornamentation of this build.

    Faces were upturned to him, laughing, male and female. They beckoned. The man was tired and tempted. Thoughts of abandonment and pleasure flitted through his brain. But he could not. He turned away and almost stumbled over his daughter-in-law. She also seemed startled by his sudden movement, almost dropping her container of cool fresh water.

    Gratefully, he reached out for it, thanking her and drinking deeply, careful to spill as few drops as possible of the precious liquid.

    Refreshed, he gathered his tools and followed the young woman home to his wife and family, descending over the scaffolding and scattered timbers, chatting to each other amicably.

    Nearer the ground, a wonderful aroma tickled his nostrils. The builder hurried, hungry, forgetting tiredness, anxious to see his family and join the laughter and teasing as the afternoon waned and darkness descended.

    Later, curled up next to his wife, he felt her smile. "We have made juice for you," her soft whisper crossed the darkness. "Our guests are coming tomorrow."     

    A few more heartbeats, then "thank you for not going with the vagabonds." He felt a flush of guilt. "You know?" But she was already asleep. Soon they slept. And God kept watch.