It would be another hour or so before Becca woke up, but Helen wanted everything ready by that time.Working quickly, Helen used a shovel to start refi...ling the hole with the dirt she had taken out from it with the digger. It took several minutes before Becca;s outstretched legs were finally covered. Helen was getting rather hot, and forced to remove her shirt, placing it on the digger, out of the way.By the time the dirt came up to Becca’s waist, Helen needed a rest, but knew she could only. "You remember where the cups are, right?" she said, as I strolled into the kitchen.I got my coffee and added some cream from the fridge. With the cup, all steaming hot, I sat cattycorner to my sister at the table and took in her sheepish grin. "You're really doing well," I commented.She just nodded, and suddenly we were in a very serious conversation about David's suicide, the hard months after, her own depression. I completely forgot the games for a little while, and was relating to my sister. Bubba was in for robbing a liqueur store and killing an old colored man who he ran into as he was leaving. It was Bubba's fault that he ran into the old man. Knocked the old fella right on his keester too. But Bubba didn't care. He shot him dead anyway. A 12 gauge Mossberg, fired into a man's face, from point blank range, tends to do that. Least ways when it is loaded with .00 buckshot. In a way it was the old man that got Bubba caught though. See when Bubba ran into him, his wallet fell out of. I ignored her casual appraisal of my hardon.I half-expected my daughter to cover herself up with a towel, and it was only when she threw one at me that I understood why she hadn't. The damned motel had just a couple of wash-towels in each room, strips of cloth half the length of my thigh. I switched on another light, and the two of us dried our hair, maintaining that platonic distance between us.I groaned when I saw that the dial on my wristwatch showed five to three. Having been caught in.
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