Serendipity by Cathy Marie Hake Read Free Book Online Page B

buck the Flinn twins downed.”
    “I could tan your hide.” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he groaned. “Not yours. The deer’s.”
    Her merry peals filled her kitchen, making the huge room bright and warm. “I’m eternally grateful the Flinns kept that buckskin. Tanning reeks to high heaven.” Sweet-smelling steam bellowed out of the oven as she opened the door.
    “I’d rather get a whiff and taste of that any day. What is it?”
    “Pie. Tuesday’s the night I hold Sweets ’N Swagger, where everybody gets a taste of dessert and the men admire one another’s work.”
    Tuesday. His gut clenched. Any reference to time reminded him of the disaster awaiting him upon his return. But that was his concern – not hers. He refused to drag her down.
    “Carver’s Holler is known for the beautiful work her men do. It’s a shame for something to be sold or traded before we can all appreciate it.”
    “Do you carve, too?”
    “Only roast.” She wrinkled her nose. “My whittling lessons ended when I dropped my knife. It stuck straight into Paw-Paw’s wooden leg.”
    Her admission charmed him. “I’m positive the other men will agree with me that your cooking is the masterpiece of the night.”
    “Not necessarily. I bartered for shells a couple years back, and the men took up the challenge of teaching themselves how to carve on something that fragile and unforgiving. The first pieces were atrocious. Once they adapted the skills of carving wood to carving shell, some of the men turned out to be gifted craftsmen, but all of them do wonders with wood.”
    He watched with wonder of his own as, with hands moving at blurring speed, Miss Rose chopped enough carrots to fill the biggest mixing bowl. With his help, she dumped the carrots into a roasting pan.
    About five minutes later, Todd stood on the side of Ma’s bed. She’d been facing the far wall earlier. Now she faced the door. Miss Rose tucked a nest of pillows around Ma to make her stay put . The woman just has to build nests – whether with mixing bowls, her “treasures,” or pillows. But Ma looks okay, and that’s what matters most.
    Todd moved to assist her. “I’ll do that.”
    “I’m done.” Miss Rose sidestepped something.
    He went to pick it up, but she tried to stop him. Towels. But she hadn’t had anywhere near enough time to bathe Ma. So why . . . ? His eyes narrowed. Those weren’t sheets. It was a stack of flour sacks inside a towel. Rooted to the floor, Todd looked from her to his mother, to the diaper-like thing on the floor, and back as the truth dawned on him.
    “Such lovely hair your mama has.” Miss Rose’s lilting observation warred with her stern look. “The silver and brown look like sugar swirled with nutmeg.”
    He nodded curtly to acknowledge the unspoken message. Miss Rose was kind to give him something to talk about. “My sister, she inherited Ma’s brown hair and eyes.”
    “You have a sister?” Did relief tinge her voice?
    “Arletta. She and her husband left last Friday for France.” Even if he reached his sister, it wouldn’t matter. After marrying a rich man, Arletta lost her values. When their stepfather died, Ma went to live with Arletta. Infrequent notes from Arletta accused Ma of being nosy – even making a pest of herself. At that time he’d been breaking sod and living in the barn. When he wrote that he’d take Ma as soon as possible, Arletta didn’t respond. Then, out of the blue, months later, a curt note arrived. They were going to Europe, didn’t know when they’d return, and it was his turn to take on the “burden” of keeping Ma. Ma knew nothing about it, and he’d make sure she never did.
    It was supposed to be so easy. Now it’s impossible.
    Miss Rose bent and scooped up the laundry. Lithe. Lively. She moved with such purpose. On this trip, Todd enjoyed ample opportunities to watch women. Oh, the pleasure of listening to a voice that wasn’t in a low register! Hearing the rustle