Every once in a while she’d pause and look down at the body of her husband, prison-thin, in new jeans and white T-shirt, with her brand-new Gingher sewing shears protruding primly from his right eye. She wanted to kick him, he made her so mad, but that would be useless. She didn’t want to touch him. Ever again. So she paced, and waited for Natasha. This was the second time today she’d paced, waiting for someone to show up, and she was damn tired of it. First, it was waiting for Cousins to arrive on the Greyhound. She must have burned up a million calories pacing that one off. She didn’t want him back. It had been ten years, she’d carved out a nice little life for herself in White Pines Junction and if there were going to be any changes in the way she lived, it wasn’t going to be with a drunken, ex-con idiot at her side. But she didn’t know how to tell him that. He’d been gone ten years, and had written her faithfully every month, long letters, pining for her and his life in the northwoods.
What do You think about The Northwoods Chronicles?
