Hidden Mercies by Serena B. Miller

Author:Serena B. Miller [Miller, Serena B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Goodreads: 13260651
Publisher: Howard Books, a division of Simon & Schuster
Published: 2013-04-09T05:00:00+00:00

chapter NINETEEN

He had fallen into a sort of daily routine. He liked routines—a carryover from the military. He especially needed routines now. They gave him a hook upon which to hang his days.

He arose promptly at 4 a.m. every morning, and after eating a quick breakfast, he would join his father and attempt, once again, to force his fingers to squeeze hard enough to extract milk from the most patient cow in his father’s small herd. Yesterday morning, he had gotten almost a half bucket before his fingers would not grasp anymore. So there was improvement.

Tom knew he was little help to Jeremiah. His fingers were so stiff and sore, his hands so slow, that more than once a cow turned her head and looked at him, still chewing her cud, as though to say, “You about done, there, fella?”

His hands burned from the stretching he was doing. He hoped it was the right thing to do. Milking had not exactly been on the list the physical therapist had given him.

As he milked, he thought how odd it felt to pretend to be an outsider around people he knew so well that he could have recited their birthdays and food preferences.

His father had a strong dislike of cabbage. It was almost unthinkable with his Germanic background, and something his father tried to hide.

Claire never met a vegetable she didn’t like, but her meat had to be cooked so thoroughly, it was almost a family joke.

“Better burn Claire’s a little more,” her brother, Eli, used to say when someone was grilling hamburgers at church outings.

Tom was also working on stamina. After the milking was finished, he had started taking a long walk. He would go as far as he could, then he would rest on whatever was available, a fallen tree, a rock, whatever—until he regained some strength—and then walk back.

This morning was no exception. He was feeling stronger and thought maybe he could go a full mile before having to take a rest. After he had showered the smell of cow off, he planned to go into town and rent a post office box. He wasn’t expecting a lot of mail, but it would give the military a place to forward something if it did show up.

He was on his way back when he saw a freshly painted sign at the end of Claire’s driveway that had not been there earlier when he passed. It was advertising home-canned tomato juice, sauerkraut, peaches, and baked goods.

For some reason, home-canned tomato juice sounded wonderful—yet another thing he had not had in longer than he could remember. He had seen the little store in Claire’s front room the one time he had been inside. Evidently the girls had decided to expand their little business.

Suddenly, a quart of tomato juice sounded like the only thing in the world he wanted. It almost amounted to a craving. His desire to have an excuse to see Claire had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

Except she was

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