Till the Cows Come Home by Judy Clemens Read Free Book Online Page B

midnight snack.”
    He shook his head. “Take it now, or it’s gone.”
    “Fine, you selfish squirt. Eat all that healthy food.”
    He smiled and dumped the bowl’s contents onto a plate. It did look good, but my sandwich had done its work.
    I went outside to wait for Howie. Visiting the Derstines wasn’t going to be easy, and I had no idea what I’d say to them, but I needed to at least show my face. I tossed Queenie a treat and she scurried away to eat it behind one of the shrubs. Didn’t want me to steal it back, I guess.
    I heard the door of Howie’s apartment close, and I watched as he descended his stairs. By the look on his face, he was still ticked at me. Oh well. Life would go on.
    Without exchanging so much as a syllable, we climbed into my truck and drove the quarter mile to the Derstines’ house. I parked to the side of the lane so I wouldn’t block anybody, then paused to look at the small group on the porch.
    “Ready?” I asked.
    Howie grunted and opened his door.
    The walk up the lane was too short, and I soon found myself giving Claire Derstine, Toby’s mother, a hug. She held on for a long time, and I tried not to feel claustrophobic.
    “I’m really sorry,” I said when she let go.
    She gave me the same speechless nod Belle had given an hour earlier, and I hoped she wouldn’t start a fresh round of tears. Her husband came over and shook my hand.
    “Stella, thanks for coming by.”
    “Anything I can do, Tom. You holler.”
    “Thanks.”
    Howie stepped in to shake hands, and I made a beeline to the front of the porch, where I could see the sky and take a deep breath. I acknowledged a few other neighbors, noting that Toby’s baby sister, Greta, was nowhere to be seen.
    Another truck pulled into the driveway and Marty and Rochelle Hoffman stepped out of their red Ford F150. Also small-time dairy farmers, I’d known them since I was a tot. They kept busy holding their heads above water, just like me. We’d check in on each other once in a while to make sure we were both still in business, but didn’t see each other near as often as we’d have liked.
    They headed straight to the Derstines, but after their initial greeting Rochelle stayed with Claire and Marty angled toward my spot at the railing.
    “Damn shame,” Marty said.
    “Yup.” I leaned my hip against a porch pillar and shoved my hands in my pockets. “What do you know about this flu, or whatever they’re calling it? You’re good at keeping up with stuff like this.”
    He shook his head. “Not much to know yet. The State Department of Health can’t even pin it down. Next thing we know our whole town will be quarantined.”
    “Can they do that?”
    He shrugged. “Don’t know. We’ll see what the CDC has to say. This flu seems limited to about a five-mile radius. Our borough. That’s about it.”
    “And they really think it’s the flu?”
    “Same symptoms so far. Puking, the runs, fever, aches. It’s so new, though, the kids could develop other stuff before it’s run its course. And they’re just waiting for adults to come down with it. I did hear a couple old folks down at the Home are feeling pretty poorly.”
    I glanced around to make sure no one was close, then lowered my voice. “So how come Toby died? Other kids have been sick as long as him, but they’re holding out.”
    He clucked his tongue. “Toby had asthma real bad. Docs say it compromised him too much, his body couldn’t take the extra stress. He’d been at home till yesterday, when he got lots worse and they found he had pneumonia on top of it all. Poor little guy.”
    I couldn’t think about it. “Greta’s not sick?”
    Toby’s baby sister. Not quite a year old, I thought.
    “Nope. But they’re not taking any chances. She’s been staying with her grandparents. She’s still nursing, too, so they’re hoping her mom’s immunities will keep her safe.”
    I looked over at Claire Derstine, where she sat with Rochelle on a wicker loveseat. She