Ellie's relationship withSharon, her biological mother, had never been the strongest, especiallyas her father had insisted on raising Ellie as a 'chip off the oldblock'. The more Ellie thought about it, the more she realised thatshe'd probably exchanged more words with Janet in the few months she'dbeen living with her than she'd exchanged with her mother in thesixteen years beforehand. Which meant that in a way, Janet WAS morelike her mother than Sharon had ever been...Even though Ellie didn't finish her sentence, Janet instinctively knewwhat the next word would have been, and she had to bite her lip to keepherself from crying as she returned to the kitchen. Ellie calling Janet'mum' at Christmas had been the greatest gift the older woman hadreceived, and even though it hadn't happened again in the interveningtwo months it gave Janet a sense of reassurance that she may not havebeen the greatest father to either of her children, but she was farfrom a failure as a parent.After dinner,. "Shot," I said, "twice. First one hit his leg and he stumbled, second struck his head and he fell. I was almost right beside him. He was likely dead 'fore he hit the ground."She nodded."I'm sorry," I said, petting her hip, feeling my lust flame up."Um," she said, "part a'being a soldier." We were betrayed, tricked," I said. "Damn shame." Go clean up," she said with a tight smile, "and come make love to me."She did not have to tell me twice. I plunged myself in the cold creek, scraped off my whiskers, found some nearly clean britches and another of my long tailed shirts a lissome lady had sewed up for me, and was back at the captain's tent faster than you can cook a hoe cake, still damp. We did not waste any time with words but got right to the fleshy part, joined our bodies and wore each other out. Then she lay in my arms, soft and warm, and cried. She sobbed and shook, and I held her and petted her head and stroked her heaving back.After a while, she stopped, pulled away, wiped her.
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