It's not the Avon Lady.
“He is risen!”
Startled, Mary shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up to see
a handsome young man staring down at her.
“He is risen indeed! You must be Luke! John has told me so much
about you. Come to check up on me have you?” She smiled as she
took a bowl of olives that sat beside her and put it on her lap.
Luke chuckled, his dimples showing off his chiselled features. “Actually,
I just wanted the chance to meet my Lord’s mother - but don’t
tell John. He thinks I’m here to inquire after your health.”
She laughed, her brown almond-shaped eyes sparkling. “You don’t
fool me - either of you. John sends so many different people to check
on my welfare that it’s a wonder I can remember all their names.”
She patted the bench inviting Luke to sit. Taking some olives from
the bowl, Mary proceeded to pit them with lightning speed. Luke
watched in fascination at how quickly her slender fingers worked.
“May I help?” He asked suddenly.
Raising her eyebrows, Mary stared at Luke for a moment, then
nodded and placed the bowl between them. “Jesus used to like pitting
olives too. He said he found it calming.” She giggled, “Unfortunately,
he ate more than he pitted.”
Luke laughed heartily as he popped an olive into his mouth.
“I’ll tell you what I told Jesus,” she said, shaking her finger at him.
“If you eat more than you pit, then you’ve just had your supper.”
“Well then, I’d best stop eating them, as I’m used to eating more
than olives at my meals.”
“Get to work then and I might feed you more than olives!” She
Copyright 2007 Laura Davis.
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(There. That should take care of everybody.)
Oooh, look! Buttons! I wonder what happens when you press them...