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North of Happenstance: Chapter Twenty
Kate closed her eyes as the memories washed across her consciousness. The utility closet Penny lovingly referred to as her shop, was shrouded in shadows, with only the lamp sitting atop her filing cabinet casting light upon the room. Seated around psychic’s worktable, leaning heavily against the ladder-backing of the proffered chair, Kate tried to breathe normally. The smell of freshly brewed coffee made her nose twitch. It was almost midnight but Penny had assured Kate that coffee wasn’t just for early morning…and hell, it was almost early morning anyway. Really early morning. “Phil and I met our junior year in college,” Kate whispered, the words harsh, uncomfortable as they…
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North of Happenstance: Chapter Twenty-Two
With a weary sigh, Kate opened the door to the tutoring room. It had been a week since her midnight tell-all to Penny, and her grades had taken a serious nosedive in the aftermath. She couldn’t seem to focus, her thoughts stuck on repeat; this was why she’d run away from home, so she wouldn’t have to remember, wouldn’t have to evaluate what had gone wrong in her life, so she wouldn’t have to face her decision, guess at whether she’d made a mistake in her defection; so she could forget Phil, her mother, everything. She’d come to Whestleigh to escape but ever since that night…. She’d gotten a C…
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North of Happenstance: Chapter Twenty-Four
Hefting a heavy box in her arms, Kate shuffled a little to her right. The storage room at the back of the LitLiber was a mess. Organization had gotten away from the staff…sundry merchandise lay scattered around the cramped space, without thought to order or convenience. Kate had volunteered to stay late to help put the room to rights—a little extra time and effort today would save in the long run, when employees no longer had to hunt and gather for needed items. Out of her peripheral vision, Kate saw the door to the room crack open, but she didn’t bother turning to see who’d walked it. The box was…
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North of Happenstance: Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hobbling carefully, her arms sturdy against the uncomfortable padding of her crutches, Kate made her way slowly into her kitchen. The soft click of the front door closing behind M.T.’s reluctant form ringing from the hall, Kate frowned. She was hungry. She hadn’t realized just how hungry when she’d more-or-less pushed the hovering pastor out the door; in retrospect, she should had her stay just a little while longer…but then again, if Maggie suspected Kate couldn’t even so much as make dinner she never would’ve agreed to leave Kate to her own devices. Propping her body up against the counter, Kate fumbled a frying pan out from the cupboard. Eggs…
