Jessie again without screaming at her and slapping her stupid, hateful face. Tears dripped down her cheeks, and angrily she dashed them away. Crying never had done any good; it hadn't brought back Mama and Daddy, it hadn't made anyone like her any better, it hadn't kept Webb from marrying Jessie. For a long time now she had fought back her tears and pretended that things didn't hurt her even when she felt as if she would choke on her hidden pain and humiliation.
But it had been such a shock, seeing Jessie and that man actually doing it. She wasn't stupid, she'd been to an Rrated movie a couple of times, but that really never showed anything except the woman's boobs and everything was all prettied up, with dreamy music playing in the background. And once she'd glimpsed the horses doing it, but she hadn't really been able to see anything because she'd sneaked out to the stables for that very purpose and hadn't been able to find a good vantage point. The noises had scared her, though, and she'd never tried that again.
Reality was nothing like the movies. It hadn't been romantic at all. What she'd seen had been raw and brutal, and she wanted to blot it out of her memory.
She took another shower, then collapsed across the bed, exhausted from her emotional upheaval. Perhaps she dozed; she wasn't certain, but all of a sudden the room was darker as twilight gathered, and she realized she had missed supper. Another black mark against her, she thought, and sighed.
She felt calmer now, almost numb. To her surprise she was even hungry. She pulled on some clean clothes and trudged down the back stairs to the kitchen. Tansy had already cleaned up the dishes and gone home, but the industrial-size stainless-steel refrigerator would be full of leftovers.
She was nibbling at a cold chicken leg and a roll, with a glass of tea at her elbow, when the kitchen door opened and Webb strolled in. He looked tired, and he'd removed both coat and tie, the coat slung over his shoulder and hanging from one crooked finger. The top two buttons on his shirt were open. Roanna's heart gave its customary jump when she saw him. Even when he was tired and disheveled, he looked like heaven. The sickness roiled in her stomach again at the thought of what Jessie was doing to him.
"Are you still eating?" he teased with mock amazement, green eyes twinkling.
"Got to keep my strength up," she said, striving for her usual flippancy, but she couldn't quite achieve it. There was a somberness in her tone that she couldn't hide, and Webb gave her a sharp glance.
"What've you done now?" he asked, taking a glass down from the cabinet and opening the refrigerator door to pour himself some iced tea.
"Nothing unusual," she assured him, and even managed a wry, crooked smile.
"I opened my big mouth at lunch, and both Grandmother and Aunt Gloria are mad at me."
"So what did you say this time?"
"We were talking about cars, and I said that I wanted one of the Pontiac Grand Pricks."
His broad shoulders heaved as he controlled a spasm of laughter, turning it into a cough. He dropped into the chair beside her.
"My God, Ro."
"I know." She sighed.
"It just popped out. Aunt Gloria made one of her snide remarks about the way I eat, and I wanted to get her goat." She paused.
"It worked."
"What did Aunt Lucinda do?"
"She sent me from the table. I haven't seen her since." She picked at the roll, reducing it to a pile of crumbs, until Webb's strong hand suddenly covered hers and stilled the movements.
"Had you eaten anything before you left the table?" he asked, and there was a stern tone in his voice now.
She made a face, knowing what was coming.
"Sure. I had a roll and some tuna."
"A whole roll? How much tuna?"
"Well, probably not an entire roll."
"More than you've eaten of this one?"
She eyed the demolished bread on her plate, as if judiciously weighing each crumb, and was relieved to be able to say, "More than that."
It wasn't much more, but more was more. His
But it had been such a shock, seeing Jessie and that man actually doing it. She wasn't stupid, she'd been to an Rrated movie a couple of times, but that really never showed anything except the woman's boobs and everything was all prettied up, with dreamy music playing in the background. And once she'd glimpsed the horses doing it, but she hadn't really been able to see anything because she'd sneaked out to the stables for that very purpose and hadn't been able to find a good vantage point. The noises had scared her, though, and she'd never tried that again.
Reality was nothing like the movies. It hadn't been romantic at all. What she'd seen had been raw and brutal, and she wanted to blot it out of her memory.
She took another shower, then collapsed across the bed, exhausted from her emotional upheaval. Perhaps she dozed; she wasn't certain, but all of a sudden the room was darker as twilight gathered, and she realized she had missed supper. Another black mark against her, she thought, and sighed.
She felt calmer now, almost numb. To her surprise she was even hungry. She pulled on some clean clothes and trudged down the back stairs to the kitchen. Tansy had already cleaned up the dishes and gone home, but the industrial-size stainless-steel refrigerator would be full of leftovers.
She was nibbling at a cold chicken leg and a roll, with a glass of tea at her elbow, when the kitchen door opened and Webb strolled in. He looked tired, and he'd removed both coat and tie, the coat slung over his shoulder and hanging from one crooked finger. The top two buttons on his shirt were open. Roanna's heart gave its customary jump when she saw him. Even when he was tired and disheveled, he looked like heaven. The sickness roiled in her stomach again at the thought of what Jessie was doing to him.
"Are you still eating?" he teased with mock amazement, green eyes twinkling.
"Got to keep my strength up," she said, striving for her usual flippancy, but she couldn't quite achieve it. There was a somberness in her tone that she couldn't hide, and Webb gave her a sharp glance.
"What've you done now?" he asked, taking a glass down from the cabinet and opening the refrigerator door to pour himself some iced tea.
"Nothing unusual," she assured him, and even managed a wry, crooked smile.
"I opened my big mouth at lunch, and both Grandmother and Aunt Gloria are mad at me."
"So what did you say this time?"
"We were talking about cars, and I said that I wanted one of the Pontiac Grand Pricks."
His broad shoulders heaved as he controlled a spasm of laughter, turning it into a cough. He dropped into the chair beside her.
"My God, Ro."
"I know." She sighed.
"It just popped out. Aunt Gloria made one of her snide remarks about the way I eat, and I wanted to get her goat." She paused.
"It worked."
"What did Aunt Lucinda do?"
"She sent me from the table. I haven't seen her since." She picked at the roll, reducing it to a pile of crumbs, until Webb's strong hand suddenly covered hers and stilled the movements.
"Had you eaten anything before you left the table?" he asked, and there was a stern tone in his voice now.
She made a face, knowing what was coming.
"Sure. I had a roll and some tuna."
"A whole roll? How much tuna?"
"Well, probably not an entire roll."
"More than you've eaten of this one?"
She eyed the demolished bread on her plate, as if judiciously weighing each crumb, and was relieved to be able to say, "More than that."
It wasn't much more, but more was more. His
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