Grandma yelled up the stairs. “Time to get up!” Every morning, as my fatigue built, it grew harder and harder to wake up. I could hear the maintainer idling in the driveway. It had been running nonstop for four days straight and the roads were still a mess. After a quick breakfast, I joined my grandfather in the barn to help him finish the morning milking. My mind quickly went to the jars in the implement shed, and I felt a queasy mixture of nerves and shame brewing inside of me. “Grandpa, Frank Thorne is sick,” I blurted out. This was my guilt talking. I hadn’t intended to bring up the object of my anxiety, but a part of me hungered for some direction. “I think he has the flu, or it could be tremors. His house is cold. He needs wood.” “That’s kind of you to be concerned.” “Actually, I was thinking more about Tucker than Thorne.” This was partly true, but I was still on a fishing expedition, hoping for some kind of sign from Grandpa Bo that would send me in one direction or another.
What do You think about Christmas With Tucker (2010)?
