Frederick and Catherine

Once upon a time in a small village nestled between rolling hills and whispering forests, there lived a man named Frederick and his wife Catherine. Frederick was a patient and hardworking fellow, while Catherine was well-meaning and kind-hearted. However, Catherine possessed a peculiar talent for misunderstanding even the simplest instructions, often taking words in their most literal sense.

One bright morning, Frederick prepared to go into the fields to work. Before leaving, he said to Catherine, “I’ve left dumplings on the stove for midday meal. When it’s time to eat, be sure to bring them out to me in the field.”

Catherine nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, dear Frederick! I’ll bring your meal when the sun reaches its highest point.”

After Frederick departed, Catherine busied herself with household chores, sweeping and dusting their modest cottage. As noon approached, she remembered her husband’s dumplings. She carefully ladled them into a clay pot, secured the lid, and set off toward the fields.

However, as she walked along the path that wound through the meadow, Catherine was distracted by the wildflowers blooming in vibrant patches of color. “How beautiful these are!” she exclaimed. “Frederick would surely enjoy these with his meal.”

She set down the pot of dumplings and began gathering flowers, wandering farther and farther from the path as she spotted increasingly beautiful blooms. Before long, she had collected an armful of flowers but had completely lost track of where she had left the dumplings.

“Oh dear,” she fretted, turning in circles. “Where did I put Frederick’s meal?”

After searching unsuccessfully, Catherine returned home, her face flushed with worry. When Frederick returned that evening, hungry and tired, she confessed what had happened.

“I’m terribly sorry, husband,” she said, wringing her hands. “I was gathering flowers for you and lost the dumplings in the meadow.”

Frederick sighed but replied gently, “Next time, Catherine, perhaps you should keep your mind on the task at hand. Now, I’ve heard there’s a field of turnips near the forest edge. Tomorrow, I’ll dig some up to replace our lost meal.”

The next day, Frederick brought home a sack of fresh turnips. “These will make a fine stew,” he said. “But first, they must be stored in the cellar to keep them cool and fresh.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Catherine promised eagerly, wanting to make up for yesterday’s mishap.

After Frederick left to repair their fence, Catherine carried the turnips to the cellar. As she descended the steps, she noticed that the heavy wooden door leading outside was swinging freely on its hinges.

“This will never do,” she murmured. “If the door falls, someone could be hurt. I must secure it.”

Setting down the turnips, Catherine fetched a hammer and nails, then removed the door entirely from its frame, planning to rehang it properly. However, the door was exceedingly heavy, and she struggled to lift it back into position.

Just then, a peddler passed by, calling out his wares. Catherine had a sudden inspiration. “Kind sir!” she called. “Would you help me carry this door to my husband in the fields? I fear it’s too heavy for me.”

The puzzled peddler, seeing an opportunity for a sale, agreed. Together, they hoisted the door onto their shoulders and set off toward the fields where Frederick was working. The turnips, forgotten, remained scattered on the cellar floor.

When Frederick looked up from his labor to see his wife and a stranger approaching with their cellar door, his mouth fell open in astonishment.

“Catherine! What in heaven’s name are you doing with our door?”

“The hinges were loose,” she explained earnestly. “I was afraid it might fall and hurt someone, so I thought it best to bring it to you for repair.”

Frederick pressed his palm to his forehead. “And the turnips I asked you to store?”

Catherine’s eyes widened as she remembered. “Oh! They’re… well, they’re in the cellar. Or near it.”

That evening, after returning the door to its proper place and gathering the scattered turnips, Frederick sat Catherine down for a serious conversation.

“My dear wife,” he said patiently, “tomorrow is market day in the village. I’m giving you two pieces of silver to buy what we need: meat for our stew and a new pot, as our old one has a crack.”

Catherine nodded solemnly, determined not to make another mistake. “I will go first thing in the morning and purchase exactly what we need.”

The next day, Catherine set off for the market with the silver coins tucked safely in her apron pocket. The village square was bustling with vendors selling everything from fresh produce to finely crafted goods. Catherine approached a butcher’s stall and carefully selected a nice piece of beef for their stew.

As she wandered through the market looking for a pot seller, she passed a family of traveling performers. A young boy was demonstrating remarkable skill with a set of clay dishes, tossing them in the air and catching them without breaking a single one.

“How wonderful!” Catherine exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

The boy’s father, seeing her interest, approached with a winning smile. “For just one piece of silver, my talented son will teach you three of his tricks.”

Catherine considered this offer. “Frederick would be so impressed if I learned to toss our dishes like that,” she thought. Without further deliberation, she handed over her remaining silver coin.

For the next hour, she practiced tossing a clay cup into the air, though she failed to catch it each time, resulting in a small pile of broken pottery at her feet. Eventually, the performers packed up their show and moved on, leaving Catherine with her newly purchased meat but no pot and no remaining money.

Reluctantly, she headed home. When Frederick returned that evening and asked about her purchases, Catherine proudly displayed the meat.

“And the pot?” Frederick inquired.

“Well,” Catherine began hesitantly, “I thought it would be more valuable to learn a new skill.” She proceeded to demonstrate her dish-tossing attempt, using one of their few remaining cups, which promptly shattered on the floor.

Frederick stared at the broken pieces, then at his wife’s hopeful expression. After a moment of silence, he burst into laughter. “Oh, Catherine,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “What am I to do with you?”

The following week, Frederick received word that his elderly uncle had passed away, leaving him a small inheritance. “We must travel to collect it,” he told Catherine. “It’s a journey of two days. We’ll need to prepare carefully.”

Catherine, eager to prove herself capable, volunteered to pack their provisions. Frederick agreed, with specific instructions: “Pack bread, cheese, and dried fruit for the journey. Secure our cottage well before we leave.”

On the appointed morning, they set out on foot. After several hours of walking, Frederick grew hungry. “Let’s stop by that stream and have some of the food you packed,” he suggested.

Catherine looked stricken. “I didn’t pack any food,” she admitted.

“But I specifically asked you to pack bread and cheese,” Frederick said, bewildered.

“Yes, but you also said to secure the cottage,” Catherine explained. “So I took all our food and spread it around the house to keep it safe. The bread is under the pillows, the cheese is in the chimney, and the dried fruit is hanging from the rafters.”

Frederick was momentarily speechless. Then, with a resigned shrug, he said, “We’ll buy food in the next village. But tell me, how exactly did this ‘secure’ our home?”

“Well,” Catherine replied thoughtfully, “I reasoned that if any thieves broke in, they wouldn’t expect to find food in those places, so it would remain safe for our return.”

Despite their lack of provisions, they continued their journey. That night, they stayed at a small inn where the innkeeper served them a hearty meal. After dinner, Frederick counted their remaining coins.

“We must be frugal,” he warned. “This needs to last until we receive the inheritance.”

The next morning, as they prepared to depart, the innkeeper presented them with their bill. Frederick handed Catherine the money. “Pay the innkeeper while I fetch our belongings,” he instructed.

When Frederick returned, he found Catherine smiling proudly. “I’ve taken care of everything,” she announced.

“Good,” said Frederick, relieved that at least this simple task had been completed without incident.

As they walked away from the inn, Frederick asked, “How much did we pay?”

“Nothing at all!” Catherine replied cheerfully. “I saved all our money.”

Frederick stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean, ’nothing’? How did you pay the bill?”

“With gratitude,” Catherine explained. “The innkeeper asked what we owed, and I said we owed him many thanks for his hospitality. He seemed surprised but didn’t ask for anything else.”

Horrified, Frederick rushed back to the inn to properly settle their debt, apologizing profusely to the indignant innkeeper. By the time he emerged, his face was red with embarrassment, and their coin purse was considerably lighter.

They finally reached their destination the following afternoon and collected the inheritance—a modest sum that would nevertheless improve their circumstances. As they prepared for the journey home, Frederick entrusted half the money to Catherine.

“Keep this safe,” he instructed, patting his own pocket where the other half was secured. “We’ll each carry a portion, so if one of us is robbed, we won’t lose everything.”

Catherine nodded solemnly. She carefully placed her coins in a handkerchief, which she then tied into a tight bundle.

The return journey proved uneventful until they paused to rest in a sun-dappled clearing. As Catherine sat on a fallen log, she noticed a bird with an injured wing hopping nearby.

“Poor creature,” she murmured, approaching slowly. The bird, frightened, hopped away, leading Catherine deeper into the woods. Intent on helping the wounded animal, she followed, leaving her bundle unattended on the log.

When she finally returned, unable to catch the bird, the handkerchief containing her half of the inheritance was gone.

“Frederick!” she called in dismay. “I’ve lost the money!”

“Lost it?” Frederick repeated, paling. “How?”

Catherine explained about the injured bird, her eyes filling with tears. “I only wanted to help it, and now our fortune is gone.”

Frederick gazed at his well-meaning but calamitous wife, considering how to respond. To Catherine’s surprise, he didn’t raise his voice or scold her. Instead, he simply sat beside her on the log and took her hand in his.

“Catherine,” he said gently, “I knew when I married you that your heart was kind, even if your methods are sometimes… unexpected. We still have half the inheritance. It’s enough to start anew.”

Relieved by his understanding, Catherine squeezed his hand gratefully. “I promise to be more careful with our remaining money,” she vowed.

“Perhaps,” Frederick suggested with a wry smile, “I should carry it all for now.”

Upon returning home, they found their cottage exactly as they had left it—except, of course, for the bread growing moldy under the pillows, the cheese attracting mice in the chimney, and the dried fruit dangling from the rafters.

As they cleaned up the mess together, Frederick reflected on their misadventures. Despite the challenges, he couldn’t imagine life without Catherine’s peculiar logic and generous heart. For her part, Catherine determined to listen more carefully to Frederick’s instructions, though both knew it was only a matter of time before her literal interpretations would lead to new mishaps.

And so Frederick and Catherine continued their life together, a testament to the power of patience, forgiveness, and love that accepts even the most bewildering of quirks. Their neighbors often chuckled at tales of Catherine’s latest misunderstanding, but they also remarked on Frederick’s unwavering devotion and the genuine happiness the couple found in their unconventional partnership.

In the end, perhaps that was the truest inheritance of all—not coins or property, but the wealth of a marriage where imperfections were met with laughter rather than scorn, and where the journey, however circuitous, was always undertaken together.