Chapter Twenty-ThreeRuth sat at the kitchen table and inhaled the aroma of the canned chicken covering the slice of crusty white bread in her hand. Wrinkling her nose, she took a small bite then chewed slowly while she sifted through the mail. She hadn’t realized how spoiled she was in New Hampshire by eating fresh, farm-raised meat.
Her mother’s familiar handwriting on an envelope brought a smile to Ruth’s face. She could count on at least one letter every week from Mom, sometimes more. Filled with news from home and biblically based encouragement, the missives always boosted Ruth’s spirit. She laid her snack on the plate and got up to retrieve a clean knife from the drawer to slit the travel-weary envelope.
The paper crinkled as Ruth pulled out her mother’s note. The scent of lavender
