she’s good.
God had nothing audible to say in reply. But for the first time in a while, Trace felt a sense of His presence. Not in a cloud of smoke or pillar of fire. But in two peach-colored words on a bakery sack.
Milt was in his favorite chair by the bedroom window. His face wrinkled into a broad grin as Thomasina sailedinto his room bearing empty cups and a coffee carafe. “Tommy Rose! Wasn’t expecting you today. What’s that you’re wearing—lumberjack boots?”
“These old things?” Thomasina arched her foot, displaying her work boots with all the grace of a ballerina in combat boots. “They’re hiking boots.”
“Fetching,” said Milt, running a hand over his bald head. “You know Will, don’t you?”
“Sure. Hi, Will.” Thomasina winged Will a smile as he rose from the chair facing his father.
“’Morning, Thomasina. Let me help you with that,” he said, making space for the coffee on the nearby dresser. “Take my chair. I’ll go see how Mom’s coming with your breakfast, Dad.”
“The boys are going to take down the tree out front. Somebody’s got to be boss,” Milt said when Will had gone.
“Are you auditioning for the part or shall I?”
Milt cackled, encouraging her glib tongue.
She talked too loud, too fast, and too much. But couldn’t seem to stop herself, for to stop was to let thought catch up, and she couldn’t, not with Trace’s drop dead look stuck in her head.
“The girls are coming today,” said Milt. “Flying in. One from the West Coast, the other from the East”
“How nice,” said Thomasina, wondering who had empowered him to smite her with a single look.
“We’re having a pow-wow on the farm,” Milt confided. He pleated the folds of his lap robe between his fingers and asked, “Get all your stuff moved, did you?”
“Thanks to a lot of good help—Antoinette, some friends from my old neighborhood. Trace, too,” Thomasina threw his name in with a studied ease.
“Antoinette?”
“Yes. She mopped my kitchen floor while I put things away.”
“You might want to steer clear of that gal, Tommy Rose,” advised Milt, as Mary came in. “She’s got a hot temper and isn’t afraid to use it.”
“Milt Chambers, you don’t even know the girl,” scolded Mary.
“I’ve got my sources,” claimed Milt. He winked at Thomasina and whispered behind his hand, “They call her the merry widow down at the store. ’Course what they mean is…”
“Never mind what they mean. Their wagging tongues speak for themselves,” inserted Mary. She patted Thomasina’s hand. “I’m glad you’re taking notice of Antoinette. She could use a friend like you.”
“Bosh! She’ll eat poor Tommy alive. She hasn’t had a decent word for anybody since her husband died running off with another woman.”
Thomasina darted Mary a questioning glance. “I thought he died in an traffic accident.”
“He did,” said Mary.
“And the gal with him was another fella’s wife. She died, too. Didn’t leave Antoinette anyone to take vengeance on, so she’s taking it on the world at large,” said Milt. He shook his head. “I feel sorry for those kids of hers. Why, they don’t stand a chance growing up under that sharp of a tongue.”
“God doesn’t leave his lambs to chance.”
“Mary’s right,” chimed Thomasina.
“Bring in the soap boxes, we’ll have a derby once you girls are done sermonizing.” Milt grinned as Will came through the door with his breakfast tray. “About time! They were ganging up on me, son.”
“I wonder why,” said Will mildly.
Mary tucked a napkin under Milt’s chin. She took his hand to offer a blessing. Milt echoed her “Amen.” Watching them together gave Thomasina a lonesome twinge for Nathan and Flo. Hopefully, she’d have a house phone before the day was out and could share in detail her aspirations for Milt and Mary’s farm. Or was that premature? Despite Milt’s high spirits over his daughters coming to visit,
God had nothing audible to say in reply. But for the first time in a while, Trace felt a sense of His presence. Not in a cloud of smoke or pillar of fire. But in two peach-colored words on a bakery sack.
Milt was in his favorite chair by the bedroom window. His face wrinkled into a broad grin as Thomasina sailedinto his room bearing empty cups and a coffee carafe. “Tommy Rose! Wasn’t expecting you today. What’s that you’re wearing—lumberjack boots?”
“These old things?” Thomasina arched her foot, displaying her work boots with all the grace of a ballerina in combat boots. “They’re hiking boots.”
“Fetching,” said Milt, running a hand over his bald head. “You know Will, don’t you?”
“Sure. Hi, Will.” Thomasina winged Will a smile as he rose from the chair facing his father.
“’Morning, Thomasina. Let me help you with that,” he said, making space for the coffee on the nearby dresser. “Take my chair. I’ll go see how Mom’s coming with your breakfast, Dad.”
“The boys are going to take down the tree out front. Somebody’s got to be boss,” Milt said when Will had gone.
“Are you auditioning for the part or shall I?”
Milt cackled, encouraging her glib tongue.
She talked too loud, too fast, and too much. But couldn’t seem to stop herself, for to stop was to let thought catch up, and she couldn’t, not with Trace’s drop dead look stuck in her head.
“The girls are coming today,” said Milt. “Flying in. One from the West Coast, the other from the East”
“How nice,” said Thomasina, wondering who had empowered him to smite her with a single look.
“We’re having a pow-wow on the farm,” Milt confided. He pleated the folds of his lap robe between his fingers and asked, “Get all your stuff moved, did you?”
“Thanks to a lot of good help—Antoinette, some friends from my old neighborhood. Trace, too,” Thomasina threw his name in with a studied ease.
“Antoinette?”
“Yes. She mopped my kitchen floor while I put things away.”
“You might want to steer clear of that gal, Tommy Rose,” advised Milt, as Mary came in. “She’s got a hot temper and isn’t afraid to use it.”
“Milt Chambers, you don’t even know the girl,” scolded Mary.
“I’ve got my sources,” claimed Milt. He winked at Thomasina and whispered behind his hand, “They call her the merry widow down at the store. ’Course what they mean is…”
“Never mind what they mean. Their wagging tongues speak for themselves,” inserted Mary. She patted Thomasina’s hand. “I’m glad you’re taking notice of Antoinette. She could use a friend like you.”
“Bosh! She’ll eat poor Tommy alive. She hasn’t had a decent word for anybody since her husband died running off with another woman.”
Thomasina darted Mary a questioning glance. “I thought he died in an traffic accident.”
“He did,” said Mary.
“And the gal with him was another fella’s wife. She died, too. Didn’t leave Antoinette anyone to take vengeance on, so she’s taking it on the world at large,” said Milt. He shook his head. “I feel sorry for those kids of hers. Why, they don’t stand a chance growing up under that sharp of a tongue.”
“God doesn’t leave his lambs to chance.”
“Mary’s right,” chimed Thomasina.
“Bring in the soap boxes, we’ll have a derby once you girls are done sermonizing.” Milt grinned as Will came through the door with his breakfast tray. “About time! They were ganging up on me, son.”
“I wonder why,” said Will mildly.
Mary tucked a napkin under Milt’s chin. She took his hand to offer a blessing. Milt echoed her “Amen.” Watching them together gave Thomasina a lonesome twinge for Nathan and Flo. Hopefully, she’d have a house phone before the day was out and could share in detail her aspirations for Milt and Mary’s farm. Or was that premature? Despite Milt’s high spirits over his daughters coming to visit,
Similar Books
