away from his mother as he
could get.
“Sure,” the hostess replied with a friendly smile. “Not a
problem.”
Jack turned to Melinda and caught her giving a squinty-eyed
glare to the attractive young woman. Oh, for Christ’s sake, he thought. Strike
five. Unwarranted possessiveness.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 9
I woke on Sunday morning to crushing cramps and the feeling
that something was not quite right. Opening my eyes, I shot up to a sitting
position and stared in wonder at my blinds.
Sunlight! Glorious, blessed sunlight was shining through the
cracks. And was that birds I heard? I hopped out of bed, opened the blinds and
took a moment to bask in the warmth. I was suddenly feeling so good I was
positive if I opened my window a bluebird would fly in and start braiding
ribbons through my hair.
Needing a breath of fresh air that didn’t come with rain, I
slid open my window and took a moment to inhale deeply. Lovely. I knew, all the
way down to my sunshine-deprived little heart, this was going to turn out to be
a magnificent day.
When I grabbed the window to close it, my hand brushed
against the screen and it popped right out of its frame, landing in my
backyard. I leaned out of the window and looked down. Shit. I was going to
have to remember to go outside and get that and put it back in. But not today.
I had other plans for today.
With thoughts of planting flowers and retrieving deck
furniture from the basement filling my head, I closed the window and
practically skipped to the bathroom to take care of my pressing personal needs.
Even cramps couldn’t destroy my euphoria today.
Face washed, teeth brushed and flossed, and my tampon supply
judged to be adequate, I rushed back to my room to make the bed and change my
clothes. I was looking forward to the sheer joy of a nice, long run – the
first time it had been possible since the calendar had declared it to be
spring.
I clipped my hair to the top of my head and changed into my
black, calf-length running pants and a white tank top, then pulled on a light
hooded jacket. I looked around the room for my favorite running shoes. They
weren’t where I usually left them, which could only mean one thing. Buried
somewhere on the closet floor.
Turning on the closet light and stepping inside, I did a
scan and spotted one of the shoes near the middle and the other at the back end
of the closet. Reminding myself, again, to quit tossing things so haphazardly
into the closet, I gingerly made my way through the landmine.
Snagging shoe number one, I took one step, and was leaning
over to grab the second, when my right foot got tangled up in a pile of summer
clothes that had been sitting in that exact same spot since last September. I
stumbled forward, dropping the shoe, and stretched both arms out in front of me
- a vain attempt to break my fall – and took a nosedive right through the
paneled wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall. It was a door of some type. Lying on
my stomach, arched atop a small mountain of unwashed shorts and capris, my head
and shoulders were inside what seemed to be a second half of my closet.
I disentangled my lower body from that cursed pile of
clothes and crawled the rest of the way in. I pulled myself to standing and
looked around. The door I had stumbled through was less than a third of the
height of the wall itself and, if I hadn’t fallen the way I did, I would have
had to be on my knees to enter it.
The carpeting extended into the room and the walls were
plain white with some random cobwebs decorating the corners. An unused sheet
of paneling leaned against the wall, but otherwise the room was dark and empty.
Grasping the top of the door, I pulled it towards me and peered behind it.
There was a black, enameled handle, not a doorknob, affixed to the back side,
obviously the way to get out, but there wasn’t a lock.
I couldn’t imagine what the previous owners were thinking
when they went to
could get.
“Sure,” the hostess replied with a friendly smile. “Not a
problem.”
Jack turned to Melinda and caught her giving a squinty-eyed
glare to the attractive young woman. Oh, for Christ’s sake, he thought. Strike
five. Unwarranted possessiveness.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 9
I woke on Sunday morning to crushing cramps and the feeling
that something was not quite right. Opening my eyes, I shot up to a sitting
position and stared in wonder at my blinds.
Sunlight! Glorious, blessed sunlight was shining through the
cracks. And was that birds I heard? I hopped out of bed, opened the blinds and
took a moment to bask in the warmth. I was suddenly feeling so good I was
positive if I opened my window a bluebird would fly in and start braiding
ribbons through my hair.
Needing a breath of fresh air that didn’t come with rain, I
slid open my window and took a moment to inhale deeply. Lovely. I knew, all the
way down to my sunshine-deprived little heart, this was going to turn out to be
a magnificent day.
When I grabbed the window to close it, my hand brushed
against the screen and it popped right out of its frame, landing in my
backyard. I leaned out of the window and looked down. Shit. I was going to
have to remember to go outside and get that and put it back in. But not today.
I had other plans for today.
With thoughts of planting flowers and retrieving deck
furniture from the basement filling my head, I closed the window and
practically skipped to the bathroom to take care of my pressing personal needs.
Even cramps couldn’t destroy my euphoria today.
Face washed, teeth brushed and flossed, and my tampon supply
judged to be adequate, I rushed back to my room to make the bed and change my
clothes. I was looking forward to the sheer joy of a nice, long run – the
first time it had been possible since the calendar had declared it to be
spring.
I clipped my hair to the top of my head and changed into my
black, calf-length running pants and a white tank top, then pulled on a light
hooded jacket. I looked around the room for my favorite running shoes. They
weren’t where I usually left them, which could only mean one thing. Buried
somewhere on the closet floor.
Turning on the closet light and stepping inside, I did a
scan and spotted one of the shoes near the middle and the other at the back end
of the closet. Reminding myself, again, to quit tossing things so haphazardly
into the closet, I gingerly made my way through the landmine.
Snagging shoe number one, I took one step, and was leaning
over to grab the second, when my right foot got tangled up in a pile of summer
clothes that had been sitting in that exact same spot since last September. I
stumbled forward, dropping the shoe, and stretched both arms out in front of me
- a vain attempt to break my fall – and took a nosedive right through the
paneled wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall. It was a door of some type. Lying on
my stomach, arched atop a small mountain of unwashed shorts and capris, my head
and shoulders were inside what seemed to be a second half of my closet.
I disentangled my lower body from that cursed pile of
clothes and crawled the rest of the way in. I pulled myself to standing and
looked around. The door I had stumbled through was less than a third of the
height of the wall itself and, if I hadn’t fallen the way I did, I would have
had to be on my knees to enter it.
The carpeting extended into the room and the walls were
plain white with some random cobwebs decorating the corners. An unused sheet
of paneling leaned against the wall, but otherwise the room was dark and empty.
Grasping the top of the door, I pulled it towards me and peered behind it.
There was a black, enameled handle, not a doorknob, affixed to the back side,
obviously the way to get out, but there wasn’t a lock.
I couldn’t imagine what the previous owners were thinking
when they went to
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