Mercy Snow by Tiffany Baker

Author:Tiffany Baker [Baker, Tiffany]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781455512737
Amazon: 1455512737
Barnesnoble: 1455512737
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2014-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

At first Hazel was so happy to see Fergus back that she didn’t notice he’d been returned touched by the angels. Almost right away, however, it became clear that while a miracle of some sort might have occurred, it was a partial one at best, a gift wrapped in a maze of complicated strings.

After an exhaustive battery of tests, the hospital spent the better half of a morning describing to Hazel all the therapy options available to her: live-in centers, traveling nurses, part-time rehab wards. Some of them were too far away to bother with. Some sounded downright unsavory to Hazel, and all of them cost the blessed earth. “Do I look like I’m spun out of money?” she brayed to the administrator who was trying to help her navigate the mountain of paperwork Fergus now seemed to require. “Next I suppose you’re going to hand me a brochure for the goddamned Ritz.”

The administrator—a very pink-skinned young woman with a nervous habit of sucking her bottom lip, paled a shade. “Gosh no, ma’am. Nothing of the sort.”

Finally it was Mercy who came up with the solution. “Why don’t you just bring him home?” she piped up from the room’s darkest corner, where she was slumped in a plastic chair fiddling with Hazel’s spindle. “I’ll help you with him. Heck, I wrangle the sheep every day on my own. Together we can probably handle the likes of Fergus.”

And so it was agreed. Hazel signed what seemed like a cartload of documents declaring that she knew what she was doing in bringing her own kin back where he belonged and that no matter what happened, she didn’t have plans to hold Heritage Pines Hospital responsible for the outcome. Hazel snorted at that. “You all are the ones who wanted to pull the plug on him in the first place, remember?” To which the pink administrator said nothing, simply bit her lip some more and scurried as far away from Hazel as she could.

Once he got home and put on some weight, Fergus looked much the same as ever on the outside, from his bulbous chin down to his hammer toes, but his mental faculties were a different matter altogether. It was as if his innards had been scoured clean, leaving just a dry husk of a man smiling at elements he could no longer put together in good faith.

In the bustle and logistical riddles of moving the bedridden Fergus, it was initially easy for Hazel to dismiss the faraway sea that his eyes had become, or the nonsense words he sang to himself like a toddler. She knew very well, of course, the state he was in, but it wasn’t until he was home that she truly felt it. Hazel was surprised to find that she minded the drool that collected on her husband’s chin during mealtimes and that the babyish way he clapped his hands and begged her to sing to him affronted her. “I’m no singer, Fergus, you know that,”

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