week for the past three years.
"What do you have there?" Susan asked. Rosalind followed her eyes to the page, and then grabbed it. She folded it up and placed it to her heart. "Oh, honey I'm sorry. I was just curious. She looks really pretty," Susan said. Rosalind looked down at the picture and the held it up for Susan to see. Susan sat next to her on the bed and pulled out her reading glasses from her blouse. She studied the picture. "She's beautiful. Her name is Margaret Simpson. She was in a few movies, but this is where she got her start, I guess. How old is this?" Rosalind held up her right hand, showing three fingers. "That's an awful long time to carry something like this around. It looks beaten to heck. I have a new catalog downstairs. What do you say tomorrow, we get you a new one?"
Rosalind jerked and then grabbed the picture. She didn't want a new one. She pointed to the scribbled letters below the woman and said, "This is my name. It says Rosalind."
Susan looked at the picture closer and smiled. "I guess it does. You probably want to get some sleep."
Rosalind agreed. The possibility of another incident like the night before would always occupy her thoughts. However, she was with people again, and while there was an innate sense of safety in numbers, she didn't feel very safe. Susan seemed nice, but there was a distance to her; something in the tone of her voice that indicated this arrangement wasn't her idea.
It was a fresh start, but how many fresh starts was she going to need? She hoped that this was the last one, but with all that had happened in the last month, she didn't dare dream it.
***
After Susan left, she collapsed on the bed and curled up in a fetal position. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Susan came in a few moments later and tried to take the catalog page out of her hand but her grip on it was too tight. She looked down at Rosalind and pondered the situation. She had often dreamed of watching her own child sleep and thought about how that would make her feel. It was a motherly thing to do. But the girl who now lay on the bed John had hauled out of the guest room wasn't her daughter. She was something else, and Susan didn't know what that something else was.
C hapter 24
John looked up at the clock. The drivers were coming back in for the day, and he thanked his lucky stars he didn't have to make the routes anymore. He was the boss now, and routes were grunt work. The clock said 4:16. He tapped his finger on the desk, wishing it would move faster, but it clicked and clicked with constant measure. He could close early, but Susan would suspect him. He was on edge. He needed to see her; his red. Just seeing her filled him with that hunger, that lust that put out fires in his soul. He burned for her every minute of the day. He didn't know how much longer he could wait until their next meeting. Oh sure, he'd see her around the house, flaunting her chest and that innocence that drove him insane, but when would they—
"John, your wife is on the phone," Joe Bishop said, sticking his head into John's office. He hadn't heard the phone? He picked up the receiver.
"Hi honey, is everything okay? Is our girl getting settled in?" he said.
"Yes, she's fine. Could you possibly bring home some soda? I can barely get this girl to say a word, but at lunch she made it known that she likes soda."
"Anything she wants," John replied, which Susan thought was strange. "What kind?"
"I don't know, the cheapest I guess. It's soda water with flavoring, what does it matter?"
"Alright, I'll be done here shortly so I'll stop at the IGA on the way home," he replied.
"Okay, thanks honey." He hung up the phone. Susan was a genius. Any way he could endear himself to Rosalind, he would do it. If it took a little longer than usual to charm his way in, then he always had his regulars to fall back on. He thought about that for a moment and realized that he hadn't even
"What do you have there?" Susan asked. Rosalind followed her eyes to the page, and then grabbed it. She folded it up and placed it to her heart. "Oh, honey I'm sorry. I was just curious. She looks really pretty," Susan said. Rosalind looked down at the picture and the held it up for Susan to see. Susan sat next to her on the bed and pulled out her reading glasses from her blouse. She studied the picture. "She's beautiful. Her name is Margaret Simpson. She was in a few movies, but this is where she got her start, I guess. How old is this?" Rosalind held up her right hand, showing three fingers. "That's an awful long time to carry something like this around. It looks beaten to heck. I have a new catalog downstairs. What do you say tomorrow, we get you a new one?"
Rosalind jerked and then grabbed the picture. She didn't want a new one. She pointed to the scribbled letters below the woman and said, "This is my name. It says Rosalind."
Susan looked at the picture closer and smiled. "I guess it does. You probably want to get some sleep."
Rosalind agreed. The possibility of another incident like the night before would always occupy her thoughts. However, she was with people again, and while there was an innate sense of safety in numbers, she didn't feel very safe. Susan seemed nice, but there was a distance to her; something in the tone of her voice that indicated this arrangement wasn't her idea.
It was a fresh start, but how many fresh starts was she going to need? She hoped that this was the last one, but with all that had happened in the last month, she didn't dare dream it.
***
After Susan left, she collapsed on the bed and curled up in a fetal position. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Susan came in a few moments later and tried to take the catalog page out of her hand but her grip on it was too tight. She looked down at Rosalind and pondered the situation. She had often dreamed of watching her own child sleep and thought about how that would make her feel. It was a motherly thing to do. But the girl who now lay on the bed John had hauled out of the guest room wasn't her daughter. She was something else, and Susan didn't know what that something else was.
C hapter 24
John looked up at the clock. The drivers were coming back in for the day, and he thanked his lucky stars he didn't have to make the routes anymore. He was the boss now, and routes were grunt work. The clock said 4:16. He tapped his finger on the desk, wishing it would move faster, but it clicked and clicked with constant measure. He could close early, but Susan would suspect him. He was on edge. He needed to see her; his red. Just seeing her filled him with that hunger, that lust that put out fires in his soul. He burned for her every minute of the day. He didn't know how much longer he could wait until their next meeting. Oh sure, he'd see her around the house, flaunting her chest and that innocence that drove him insane, but when would they—
"John, your wife is on the phone," Joe Bishop said, sticking his head into John's office. He hadn't heard the phone? He picked up the receiver.
"Hi honey, is everything okay? Is our girl getting settled in?" he said.
"Yes, she's fine. Could you possibly bring home some soda? I can barely get this girl to say a word, but at lunch she made it known that she likes soda."
"Anything she wants," John replied, which Susan thought was strange. "What kind?"
"I don't know, the cheapest I guess. It's soda water with flavoring, what does it matter?"
"Alright, I'll be done here shortly so I'll stop at the IGA on the way home," he replied.
"Okay, thanks honey." He hung up the phone. Susan was a genius. Any way he could endear himself to Rosalind, he would do it. If it took a little longer than usual to charm his way in, then he always had his regulars to fall back on. He thought about that for a moment and realized that he hadn't even
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