[center][h2]In  My Own Good Time[/h2][/center]

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If ya’s to ask ‘er right now, Abby’d say them Anabaptists was scads easier’n half their number ‘o’ college kids.  

They knowed straight up she didn’t believe in none ‘o’ that stuff, but it didn’t matter none.  They’s gracious an’ kindly, pickin’ up after theirselves an’ thankin’ China Doll’s crew fer every little courtesy.  One of the womenfolk, called ‘erself Sister Melinda, even sewed the bullet rip in ‘er fav’rite work shirt.  She used a piece ‘o’ floral print fer that part got blowed off, laid it in thin and smooth tah make damage look right purty when she’d gaze upon it in tha mirror.  It was so nice havin’ ‘em that when they’s all dropped off on Bernadette, tha deckhand made sure their blankets an’ such was all clean, an’ that all the little girls had dolls tah take on their next adventure.

But them college kids?  Abby weren’t one tah [i]shǔ[/i] nobody out, but fer fuck’s sake!  She couldn’t keep up with their folderol.  Fer all their learnin’ an’ high talk tah make ‘er feel stupid, it’s like none ‘em was ever learned what trash cans was for.  Most sure’s hell didn’t conjure carryin’ glasses an’ plates back tah tha galley.  An’ tha lav.  When they wasn’t humpin’ two an’ three at a time in tha showers, towels an’ rags was strewn all about, an’ she’d find commodes all filthy an’ unflushed…or clogged an’ overflowin’.  If she didin’t conjure tha risk they run fer them Anabaptists, Abby mighta loosed a righteous tongue lashin’ on tha lot of ‘em by  now.  [i]Only a day an’ a half,[/i] she kep tellin’ herself.  [i]Only a day and a half.[/i]

Mind yew, they wasn’t all bad.  Christina, she who Abby done give up her room for, was kind hearted.  She kep tah herself, closed up in tha deckhand’s tiny quarters with a handful ‘o books from tha passenger lounge.  She said she’s a “Lit Major,” meanin’ someone who’s goin’ tah college jest tah read all kindsa books.  Though Abby held ‘er tongue on that, Christina din’ talk down tah her, even talked lots with ‘er about the Mei Lin stories she’s readin’.  Better still, she give ‘er a list of books she might like.  One series was about a school fer young witches an’ wizards.  Weren’t Abby’s usual stock, but stories she tole about “the boy who lived” an’ his friends sounded more smart an’ heartfelt than fanciful.  They traded contacts, an’ the deckhand promised she’d pick up tha first book after Mei Lin’s adventure was done.

Now, with eight hours’ flyin’ time left an’ laundry runnin’ in both machines, she could catch ‘er breath an’ actually think on what her coin might afford her on Pelorum.  Precious little, Abby conjured, after buyin’ a bikini like she an’ Alana said they’s doin’ together.  But tha beach was free, an’ she could spend all tha time she desired on tha sand, with one book or ‘nother.  Sounded mighty nice.  Nicer still if she could share it with Thomas.  But he ain’t speakin’ with her jest now, leavin’ a whole stack ‘o’ her waves unanswered.  She decided she ain’t sendin’ no more.  She ‘pologized aplenty; now it’s on him.  On his time.

The days ahead was hers.