TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "ALONE" - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES.

Welcome! This week's prompt is "alone." We have more of Maggie's tale. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for coming by.

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Maggie’s alarm sounded promptly at six. She pulled down the covers and swung her legs over the side. Little Penn would be up and howling already. She smiled as she pictured him standing in his crib crying for attention, and bursting into a giant grin when she entered his room. Maggie washed up in her private bathroom and slipped on a housedress.

She padded down the hall in her slippers, careful not to wake the Missus and her husband. The faint cry of Penn’s healthy lungs met her ears. She sighed. Her busy-beyond-belief day had begun. She’d be on the go all day long, taking care of Penn, cleaning house, and keeping her room spotless.

She opened the door and laughed as Penn, standing up, danced, his little legs pumping, his mouth open, drool leaking down to his pajamas.

“Good morning, my little man.” Maggie approached the crib.

Penn raised his arms to her. She picked him up. He squealed in delight as she buried her face in his tummy.

“Come, my boy. Let’s get you ready for breakfast.”

She changed him and dressed him in one of the adorable outfits his mother stockpiled, spilling out of drawers and shelves.

“Blue, today, mi lad,” she said, fastening the snaps. She combed his hair, kissed his cheek and supported him on her hip as she carried him to the kitchen. She hummed a little ditty her gran had sung to her when she was a child. Penn gurgled, and stuck his fingers in his mouth.

She set him in his top-of-the-line high chair, then set about gathering his breakfast.

“Hmm, oat cereal today. How about apricots? You had peaches yesterday,” she said.

Penn clapped his hands and followed her with his eyes. It had only been two weeks, but Maggie had settled comfortably in a routine with the child and the household. Smiling as she mixed cereal, she filled the coffeemaker, then sat opposite the lad. As she scooped up cereal with a bit of pureed fruit, the coffeemaker spewed the delicious aroma of perking brew into the air.

“Morning,” came from a deep, masculine voice.

“Morning. Coffee’s ready.”

“Very good,” said John.

Dressed and combed with every hair in place, the handsome man poured two cups and fixed Maggie’s with too much sugar and cream.

“Still don’t see what the Yanks see in this. Give me a good cuppa any day,” she muttered as he sat the beverage in front of her. Penn reached for her cup, but she dodged his tiny fingers.

Maggie worked hard keeping the house shining. But she smiled to herself. At least she had a place, good work to do, decent pay, and, thank God, she wasn’t alone.   

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