be for time to fly. Just for today. But then, no one had ever offered to grant him a wish. No, Roger Jenkins had to fight and scrap for everything he ever had, and today would be no different.
Soon he would be able to head to Ted and Trina’s. Nothing unusual about that. Many nights he, and sometimes the annoying Paul Studler, would settle on the front porch. Trina almost always provided cookies, and Trina’s dad, Bill, would entertain them with stories from his childhood. Who knew life had changed so much? Black-and-white TV and home-delivered milk and bread?
Should he try to eat something before he headed out? He opened the refrigerator door, and smelled the milk. Still good, and enough left in the jug for a bowl of cereal. He reached for a bowl in the cupboard beside the refrigerator, red plastic, on sale at the thrift store at the time he had bought the house. Service for one. The raisin bran box felt light as he lifted it from the shelf. Only crushed sediment remained in the bottom of the plastic liner.
He threw the bowl into the sink where it cracked into pieces. He pulled a tight hand down his face, nostrils flaring as he gripped the side of the sink. Most of his life he had been able to control his temper, but lately, it was getting harder. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. Better get control and not let this rage come spilling out around Lillian. She had to trust him. That was part of his game.
Scanning the kitchen, he found a package of cookies stashed on top of the microwave. Sitting at the table, for all appearances a respectable gentleman ready for a Sunday snack, he munched on the chocolate cookies. The empty cupboards didn’t bother him; he didn’t plan on living there much longer. There was one good thing about living alone. No one cared what he ate. He savored the fat and calories even more.
~*~
An hour into South Carolina, as dusk settled in, Jives announced the anticipated exit from the interstate. At the traffic light, Lillian hyper-extended her aching back. Since Virginia, the trip had gone smoothly. Not far now. She opened the rear windows wider and warm air brushed against her skin. It had been cold at home.
She bristled with tension. She was about to start her new life. Was she ready? Anticipation of a new, quiet existence calmed her. No one knew her in Darlington, and she would keep to herself as much as possible. Craig used to say that people can only be happy when they live within God’s will. She squeezed the steering wheel. Well, this move had better be in God’s will because there it was, the sign for Darlington. Just five more miles.
Restaurants and hotels lined the state route. The smell of steak made her mouth water, but no time to stop now. A farmer’s market and a technical college both flanked the right side of the street. On the left were fields with bits of cotton clinging to stubble.
The road narrowed to two lanes. Smaller businesses, a hair salon, the front window of a house with a poster offering alterations, refrigerators lining the walk of a used furniture store. Nothing like Cleveland with its many lanes of traffic and high-rise buildings.
Finally, Darlington city limits. She sighed, anticipating the journey’s end. What if the bed and breakfast turned out to be a one-star dive? Bedbugs and dirty sheets? She blew a stray curl off her face, frustrated that she had not thought to do a web-search in spite of the great flyer. But as tired as she was, she could survive anything for a night.
The thought of destiny’s end, perhaps a soak in a tub of hot water and a good night’s sleep in clean sheets and no bugs sent tingles of anticipation through her. This was Darlington. No cameras flashing. No TV crews. No hostile stares. No sirens. No one asking her for matches. A strange sensation filled her. Was it hope?
Pulsing blue lights reflected in the rearview mirror. She slowed to allow the vehicle to pass, but the cruiser pulled behind her. Fear coursed
Soon he would be able to head to Ted and Trina’s. Nothing unusual about that. Many nights he, and sometimes the annoying Paul Studler, would settle on the front porch. Trina almost always provided cookies, and Trina’s dad, Bill, would entertain them with stories from his childhood. Who knew life had changed so much? Black-and-white TV and home-delivered milk and bread?
Should he try to eat something before he headed out? He opened the refrigerator door, and smelled the milk. Still good, and enough left in the jug for a bowl of cereal. He reached for a bowl in the cupboard beside the refrigerator, red plastic, on sale at the thrift store at the time he had bought the house. Service for one. The raisin bran box felt light as he lifted it from the shelf. Only crushed sediment remained in the bottom of the plastic liner.
He threw the bowl into the sink where it cracked into pieces. He pulled a tight hand down his face, nostrils flaring as he gripped the side of the sink. Most of his life he had been able to control his temper, but lately, it was getting harder. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. Better get control and not let this rage come spilling out around Lillian. She had to trust him. That was part of his game.
Scanning the kitchen, he found a package of cookies stashed on top of the microwave. Sitting at the table, for all appearances a respectable gentleman ready for a Sunday snack, he munched on the chocolate cookies. The empty cupboards didn’t bother him; he didn’t plan on living there much longer. There was one good thing about living alone. No one cared what he ate. He savored the fat and calories even more.
~*~
An hour into South Carolina, as dusk settled in, Jives announced the anticipated exit from the interstate. At the traffic light, Lillian hyper-extended her aching back. Since Virginia, the trip had gone smoothly. Not far now. She opened the rear windows wider and warm air brushed against her skin. It had been cold at home.
She bristled with tension. She was about to start her new life. Was she ready? Anticipation of a new, quiet existence calmed her. No one knew her in Darlington, and she would keep to herself as much as possible. Craig used to say that people can only be happy when they live within God’s will. She squeezed the steering wheel. Well, this move had better be in God’s will because there it was, the sign for Darlington. Just five more miles.
Restaurants and hotels lined the state route. The smell of steak made her mouth water, but no time to stop now. A farmer’s market and a technical college both flanked the right side of the street. On the left were fields with bits of cotton clinging to stubble.
The road narrowed to two lanes. Smaller businesses, a hair salon, the front window of a house with a poster offering alterations, refrigerators lining the walk of a used furniture store. Nothing like Cleveland with its many lanes of traffic and high-rise buildings.
Finally, Darlington city limits. She sighed, anticipating the journey’s end. What if the bed and breakfast turned out to be a one-star dive? Bedbugs and dirty sheets? She blew a stray curl off her face, frustrated that she had not thought to do a web-search in spite of the great flyer. But as tired as she was, she could survive anything for a night.
The thought of destiny’s end, perhaps a soak in a tub of hot water and a good night’s sleep in clean sheets and no bugs sent tingles of anticipation through her. This was Darlington. No cameras flashing. No TV crews. No hostile stares. No sirens. No one asking her for matches. A strange sensation filled her. Was it hope?
Pulsing blue lights reflected in the rearview mirror. She slowed to allow the vehicle to pass, but the cruiser pulled behind her. Fear coursed
Similar Books
Surviving Paradise
Peter Rudiak-Gould
The Girl with the Wrong Name
Barnabas Miller
The Lady of Han-Gilen
Judith Tarr
Love in Paradise
Maya Sheppard
Venture Forward
Kristen Luciani
Vicious Magick
Jordan Baugher
Takedown
Allison van Diepen
Animate Me
Ruth Clampett