When is Daddy Coming Home?

Part three of the story of Jason and Heidi which is based on a true happening from the 1500’s.

The curtain falls on Jason fleeing the city. I imagine him making his getaway after dark but his wife wasn’t too keen on the idea, let alone hiking along with him. After all she did have the children to care for, and who wants to be on the road going to who-knows-where?

               “Mama, when’s Papa coming home?” Heidi looked down at the little girl tugging at her skirt.

               “I don’t know, dear. Soon, I hope.” Heidi went over to the low door of their thatched roofed house and peered down the road like she had every day for two weeks now. I didn’t know he would stay away so long. I wonder if something has happened to him. Well at least the authorities have quit harassing me. They must be convinced I know not where he is.

“Come. Let’s gather some onions and carrots, and maybe a bit of dill and make a big pot of soup. If Papa is on the way home, he’ll be hungry.”

               Anne skipped along happily to the large garden plot, but Heidi’s heart was heavy. It’s hard to accept that our leaders would be less than peace-loving on such a sweet, summery day. What gets into them anyway? Little did Heidi know how much persecution sporadically raged in different areas because communication was poor between the various cities. As the weeks wore on and the weather grew colder, Heidi’s loneliness increased as well as her fear of being unsupported during the long winter months.

               “How are you making out, Heidi?” Heidi quickly glanced around to see if anyone noticed who was talking to her. Even the houses had ears, nowadays, and all the windows were eyes.

               “I have no idea where he is,” she spoke in a low voice to the middle-aged Anabaptist woman who had stopped her on the street. Something was thrust into Heidi’s hands then the Christian sister slipped off down a little-used path.

               Heidi waited until she got home before opening the basket, but the fragrance of delicious freshly baked bread wafted up to her every step of the way. The children crowded around eagerly to see what the container held and was delighted with the contents. The flour barrel had been emptied long ago and fresh bread---with a new pat of butter, my what a treat!

               Widow Mary’s mother had stopped in to chat with Heidi on more than one occasion, and Heidi felt safe with her; not only safe but comforted. As she spread butter on a thinly sliced piece of bread for each of her children, Heidi remembered what Katharine had quietly whispered in her ear while the basket exchanged hands. “There is a meeting tonight. We will meet you at the elm tree by the cobbler’s corner if you want to attend. We will reach that spot when the bell dongs ten times.”  Heidi had nodded slightly then in louder tones they had discussed the weather and gone on their way.

               Heidi felt like she had tucked her children in with more fevered haste than in former times but they seemed not to sense that anything was amiss. Of late she had gotten into the habit of saying prayers, not from the prayer book, but from her heart, with the children. Anne liked it, but Daniel, who was a little older, thought it strange.
               “Does the priest allow you to do that, Mama?”

               “Out Heavenly Father which is in Heaven puts the words into my heart, my child. I but speak what he asks me to.”

               In Heidi’s nervousness, it seemed to take the children a long time to settle down for the night, although it may not have been any longer than usual. She heard the bell chime eight, then eight thirty, nine, then nine thirty. Heidi put aside her basket of knitting and tiptoed softly into the children’s room. She tucked the blanket more securely around little Anne’s shoulder, and picked up Daniel’s scruffy pants and laid them on the end of the bed. Both children were sleeping soundly.

               Heidi went over to the one small window and peered out. It was dark, very dark out tonight. She opened the door softly and glanced back. Neither child stirred.

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Excerpt from The Shining Castle