Mrs. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. I do not love any one. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. He’s been near it once or twice already. ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. We are doing a unit on World War II in American History right now, so maybe I am getting a little wrapped up in the unit or something, I dunno.
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