Divine Mortals Read Online Free PDF Page B

glass of apple juice from the fridge and hunted instead for some cheerios. As I reached into the cupboard the box slipped from my grasp, bouncing off the bench and onto the floor.
    “Dammit.” I cursed, dropping to sweep up the hundreds of tiny cereal rings that seemed to have scattered across every inch of the linoleum.
    I cleaned up and finished breakfast quickly, with no idea of what I was going to do today.
    I would have to come up with more to fill my time on the farm, either that or get a job.
    This was only day two and I was already at a loss for how to fill my days.
    Wandering back down the hallway out onto the porch I pondered exactly what it was people did in the country, I had no idea.
    Pop was packing some things onto the back of his pickup, this one was older than his current pride and joy, obviously the one they used for work around the farm. I could see Robert and Shaun herding some cattle over by the pens, Shaun caught sight of me and waved, I waved back giving him a smile. Robert turned to see who he was gesturing at, I felt his gaze land on me, a sudden jolt of electricity coursed through me as our eyes met, then it was gone and he was back to his work.
    “Morning sleepy head.”
    Pop greeted me with a smile as he lifted sacks from the ground onto the bed of the truck. I could tell by the set of his jaw he was preoccupied with his own thoughts but the smile he gave was genuine.
    “Morning,” I answered, trying to sound as cheerful as I could.
    “Can you do me a favor love,” he asked, climbing onto the pickup he began moving the sacks into a tidy pile.
    “Sure,”
    “Can you chuck me up that tool box.” he gestured towards a large tin box on the ground, I made my way down the porch steps towards the pickup.
    “How long has Robert worked here?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I descended the last step. Pop shot me a sideways look, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, I ignored this, stepping out through the gate and into the yard.
    “Bout three years.” he didn’t look up as he answered, busy retying a sack that had come undone.
    “Left his last foster home as soon as he was able to, legally I mean, and ended up here.”
    I had been in the process of bending down to pick up the tool box, this made me pause for a minute, perhaps that explained why he was so uncomfortable around people, he was a foster kid, although I wasn’t sure yet if it
was
all people or just me.
    Grunting loudly I swung the tool box onto the back of the pickup, causing Pop to leap backwards when I almost dropped it on the toe of his boot.
    “Sorry,” I mumbled, pushing my hair behind my ears, “So he’s adopted?”
    “No not adopted, although that probably would ‘ave been a nicer option for him.”
    I wiped my palms on my shorts, the day was already sweltering, and waited for Pop to continue.
    “He was in foster care, from what I can gather he never knew his parents, they died while he was still a babe. Then he was passed from home to home, you know how it is, you hear these stories, poor lad.” Sweat was running freely down Pops face, following the deep creases of his wrinkles, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubbed it quickly across his forehead.
    “So how old was he when he came here?” I couldn’t shake the curiosity I felt, something about this guy made me nosey.
    “Ooohhh,” Pop considered for a moment, shoving the damp hanky back into his pocket.
    “Dropped out of high school when he was sixteen if I remember right, was here soon after.”
    So he was nineteen, I’d been almost spot on with my guess.
    The slam of the tail door bought me back to reality, Pop had finished packing the truck and was casting his eyes across the load once more, double checking the packed supplies.
    “Can you take that sack over to the stables for me love?”
    For the first time I noticed a lone sack sitting in a wheel barrow on the other side of the pickup, it looked heavy.
    “Sure,” I murmured,