Lorraine Heath
“SHE WALKED to the washstand and splashed the cool water on her face, but it couldn’t wash away the dark circles beneath her eyes or the heaviness that had settled in her heart.
She needed to cook breakfast, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry, long and hard, until she was so exhausted that she’d sleep without dreaming of Clay.
Lethargically, she walked to the kitchen and took a pot off the wall. Her father and brother would have to be content with porridge because she didn’t hav...e the energy to fix anything else.
She heard Daniel coming down the hallway whistling “Dixie.” Perhaps his hatred toward Clay would be less if her father had let him leave and be the drummer boy for the Confederacy that he’d wanted to be. Unfortunately, drummer boys had died as well.
“Mornin', Meg.” He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “What are you fixin'?”
“Porridge.”
“Sounds good.”
Smiling, she looked at him over her shoulder. Porridge was his least favorite meal.MoreLess
She needed to cook breakfast, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry, long and hard, until she was so exhausted that she’d sleep without dreaming of Clay.
Lethargically, she walked to the kitchen and took a pot off the wall. Her father and brother would have to be content with porridge because she didn’t hav...e the energy to fix anything else.
She heard Daniel coming down the hallway whistling “Dixie.” Perhaps his hatred toward Clay would be less if her father had let him leave and be the drummer boy for the Confederacy that he’d wanted to be. Unfortunately, drummer boys had died as well.
“Mornin', Meg.” He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “What are you fixin'?”
“Porridge.”
“Sounds good.”
Smiling, she looked at him over her shoulder. Porridge was his least favorite meal.MoreLess
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