Barbara Pearson

Feathers at my Feet is a cozy fall read. Enjoy!

A tribute to Mike Perine who I called "Matt" in Feathers at my Feet. From page 41...

When I returned to the rig, Matt signaled for me to take the berth behind him, a nest he had made with blankets. A dreamcatcher bobbed over my head.

I cascaded into a heavy, dreamless sleep, and even when the big engine eventually started again, I didn’t budge, snuggled and rocked as if I were in a pram. Hours later when sun and heat seared through the window, I kicked off my blankets and slowly opened my eyes. Florida! Only a couple more hours to Apalachicola and my new second home.

I climbed over the seat and kissed Matt on the cheek, “Good morning.” He smiled. “There’s a thermos of coffee on the floorboard . . . with cream.” Ah, he remembered from one of our phone conversations.