She could not say no to the pastor.
They had given her more affection than a blind orphan could have ever hoped for. Until the day the lumberjack came looking for a wife.
‘O dear, he’s a giant of a man,’ lamented her friends, ‘and ugly with deep scars all over his sun burnt face.’
‘He is an honest man with a good heart,’ the pastor assured. ‘He may be a lumberjack, but was not the earthly father of Our Lord a carpenter.’
Yet it was with much dread that she accepted the proposal.
‘I have a gift for you,’ a thick gruff voice approached, handing over a piece of wood with a subtle tremble of hands. It was a figurine of a maiden with flowers for hair and vines as skirt and a face smooth as marble.
‘Did you make this?’
‘Yes, I whittle in my free time.’
She smiled then, full of hope, joy and perhaps even love, at the man who had such beauty within.
In Response to: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, 113th Challenge
Photo Prompt by: Loretta Notto