Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I’m still reading, smiling big, when Halo comes back, interrupting my happy vibes.
Rosie Harlow can write. Because I’m kinda jealous of this robust, hearty young man of twenty-four. And also, I like his taste in women.
“What are you doin’?”
I look up at Halo and hold up the paper. “Rosie Harlow writes this.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s… fun.”
Halo smiles. “Yeah, it is. I always read them. Every single week.” She sighs. “When the grumpy Mr. Stanton finally proposed to the widow Smith, I about fainted to the floor. His letter was so beautiful. They’re expecting this October, ya know. Twins!” Her eyes are bright with excitement.
I just shake my head and stand up, reaching out to mess up Halo’s hair while she backs off, squealing. A moment later all the sisters are there, ready for a night of bowling. So we leave and walk down the road together, ready for a night of sibling fun.
I love it here.
I’m so glad I’m back.
But as I walk, I can’t help writing my own ‘desperately seeking somebody’ ad in my head.
After bowling is over and it’s well past midnight, I find myself thinking about Rosie Harlow again as I pull my truck out onto the highway that runs through town.
And then her house is right there. Most of it is dark, but there is a light on upstairs.
She’s awake.
I slow the truck, wondering maybe if I should stop by, but then speed up again, because knocking on a single woman’s door in the middle of the night isn’t something one does.
And then I’m thinking about what Rosie said to me yesterday. Time is something you make for things you like doing.
And I promise myself that tomorrow, I will make time for Rosie Harlow.
Everyone in Disciple complains about the weekends because we have to work. And not only that, we have to work hard. But it’s the kind of complaining one does when they feel tired and wish for some spare time, but aren’t unhappy.
Even though I don’t really play a regular part most years, I am not unsatisfied with my role in the Revival. I like being shuffled around in the casting of the show because I get different costumes, and new motivations, and most of the time I’m a plot booster. I’m the woman who points to Collin Creed and says, “There he is! That’s him! The murderer, Collin Creed!”
And it’s always a surprise because script changes are only doled out on a need-to-know basis. So there’s lots of gasping, and amazed looks, and smiling, too. Because everyone knows it’s fake, so they don’t much care when I’m throwing a fit, making them the center of attention.
It’s just a bit of fun. And there’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun when you’re workin’ so hard.
As usual, Cross went in early for choir practice, so I leave the house by myself and head on up the hill. When I get to the Revival tent, I immediately go find my daddy and brothers to see if they need any help. My family is in charge of the entire frickin’ tent, including the scaffolding and over-tent that pops out in inclement weather.
I find them all hanging out near the maintenance shed, which is near the river. I am the youngest of five, the only girl, and they baby me the way one might expect if one has four big brothers.
But they don’t need any help and I am shooed out of the way and told to go on down to the tent.
Even after I got pregnant at fifteen, my family stood by me. My daddy was mad, my mama cried, and my brothers all wanted the name of the boy who did this to me. But they settled down once Cross appeared.
I never did give up that name, but not because I didn’t have it. I knew exactly who that boy was and I was a very willing participant. I was a bit of a free spirit in my teenage years—which is a nice way to say ‘slut.’ But whatever, it is what it is.
I liked him though, and had I given up his name, he would’ve been dead for certain instead of just presumed. His name was Erol Cross and he was two years older than me and wasn’t even from the Trinity area, but lived in a little town about thirty miles down the river. He and his crew used to come into Revenant to party on the weekends in his senior year of high school. And that’s where I met him. In the Bong Balls pool hall right there on D Street, across from McGills Tavern.
Erol and I were more than casual, we were planning a future together. I wasn’t gonna keep him secret forever. That was not the plan. The plan was for me to have the baby and him to graduate high school and get a job to make him look serious and dedicated. Then we would both go to my parents and tell them we were getting married.