She muttered a few select words that ill-suited the sweet persona she was known for on-stage and slogged out of bed, feeling the new and grossly familiar sensation of nausea that pressed a clammy hand to her belly as if trying to feel the heartbeat of the mistake inside her.
-Anon, Sir, Anon
Her plans were big, sprawling, and certainly did not include bearing the child of --- no. She wouldn’t say his name. That would be acknowledging him and a bigger jerk than that man had never existed on either side of the Atlantic.
-Anon, Sir, Anon
He’d get a doctor. It would all be over in few days. Things would be just fine.-Anon, Sir, Anon
How far the field stretched and whether it ran uphill or down was a fact obscured by the fog. It was everywhere, the fog, wrapping them in woolen quiet.-Anon, Sir, Anon
Vivi used her uncle’s arm as a prop to aid her in getting over the brook, then tucked her hair into the back of her coat so she wouldn’t have to feel the breath of the faint wind sucking at her neck. “How could they have seen the body from the road, Doctor?-Anon, Sir, Anon
Farnham placed his palm against her back and she leaned into it, feeling as if the fog had crawled into her bloodstream and was lifting her higher, higher, higher into the air.“Whoap.” Breen hands were on her now and Vivi felt quite awkwardly that someone had thrown his coat on the turf and lowered her into a sitting position.“I’m all...right,” she murmured, wishing the wooliness would give way.-Anon, Sir, Anon
Vivi’s mind began to run in a dull, idle way over meaningless details of the corpse: the style shoe the woman had worn; the way her stocking twisted around one ankle; her red dress and brown coat; her blue-felt cloche.-Anon, Sir, Anon
“Women’s intuition?” Breen asked with a deal of sarcasm.“Women’s intuition?” Vivi followed, quite curious now.“Women’s intuition,” the Inspector said, marveling.-Anon, Sir, Anon
“Ain’t you a purdy little...gal...” Lindy knew the real name for she-pups but she’d said it once at Sunday-school and been told that Jesus wouldn’t like her usin’ such words. Lindy didn’t guess Jesus would care that much--’specially since her Daddy taught her that word right along with “mare” and “ewe” and “cow” and “queen”--but all the same she’d quit talking about hunting dogs at church.-Untitled
“What’ll we do for your birthday?” Lindy asked Dagger as they turned down Pearmont Street when they had finished crossing the parking lot and the last few traffic signs had given way to long, swooping fields.“Don’t know. Might go fishing. Might get a job.”Lindy thought fishing sounded like more fun. “You’re goin’ to be fifteen. That’s half-way gone to thirty.”“Yep.”“And thirty’s half-way to sixty. And sixty’s halfway to bein’ dead.”“Thanks, Lindy.”-Untitled
Lindy slipped her hand into Dagger’s big, tan one. She liked to feel his callouses. They felt almost like Daddy’s--like a crab-shell around his fingers to protect ‘em from all the cuts and bumps and things you got from workin’ outdoors.-Untitled
They wound up the tree-lined driveway running along the left side of the Fayette’s yard. You couldn’t see Lindy’s house from Hayden Lane but it was there all right, tucked away behind a tunnel of old oak trees that cupped their branches around the driveway and sent their roots running along the bottom of it like they were trying to hug whoever walked through. Nobody else in Duke Meadows had a driveway this nice, Lindy thought. That’s cuz they all had cars and with cars, people always kept the trees nicely trimmed so’s they wouldn’t scratch paint.-Untitled