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Camp NaNo has reached the mid-point! Two weeks, two to go.
No major meltdowns to report… yet. There’s still plenty of time left for one… or two.
Still working on updating my board. Last week was riddled with doctors’ appointments, unplanned visitors, and fibro issues, so while I did complete my scene cards, they haven’t made it to the board, and I need to figure out where they go! Only me, right?
But as promised, below is the first short excerpt from Sins of the Mother.
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I refuse to be treated like an invalid.
Seventy-four-year-old Greta Lancaster fumed.
I had the batteries replaced in my pacemaker and a defibrillator implanted, not open-heart surgery.
She maneuvered around her bedroom, taking out a fresh nightgown. The surgical area was still numb from her early morning procedure but Greta guarded her movements.
I cannot believe Lawton hired a private duty nurse for a week. A week! Humph! I raised him and his three brothers, helped raise their children, and took care of their father through almost three years of cancer and chemo treatments while dealing with this lazy heart of mine. The day hasn’t come yet when I can’t take care of myself.
Greta sat on the edge of her bed to calm down and collect herself.
She was grateful Lawton took time off from work for her outpatient surgery, but he was wrong for hiring a nurse without consulting her first. To have the woman just show up moments after they returned to her home after the surgery was outrageous. She had no regrets asking them both to leave.
Greta put her clothes away and turned down her bed, ready to spend the rest of the afternoon napping away the anesthetics still in her system.
She reached out to fluff her pillows and froze, a sharp jolt of pain flaring on the left side of her chest near her shoulder.
Oh dear. Guess I will need a pain pill sooner than I thought.
Padding down the hallway to her kitchen, Greta was struck with pangs of regret and a foul stench.
She made Lawton leave before he emptied Catastrophe’s litter box.
She entered the kitchen and exchanged glares with the plump mustard-yellow tabby perched on the kitchen counter.
“I gave you the right name all those years ago, Catastrophe. Some days you’re just one problem after another.”
Greta tried to bend over the offensive litter box to peel away the used liner but pain and lightheadedness ruled out that move.
Keeping her left arm close to her body, Greta Lancaster dragged a bistro chair from her breakfast nook over to the litter box with her right arm and sat down. Leaning over to the right, Greta could peel the edges of the used liner free and lift it from the litter box to reveal a fresh new layer.
She looked at Catastrophe and smirked. “See? I can take care of myself.” Easing from her seat, Greta headed for the back door. “But this cannot stay in the house.”
Still grasping the liner bag, Greta leaned against the counter.
Catastrophe showed his displeasure with a loud mewl.
“Oh, hush, Cat. We’ve been at this so long you should be cleaning your own litter box by now.”
She eyed the back door. Three steps to the door, three steps to the recycle bin… and back.
I can do this.
Standing erect, the senior citizen walked to the back door and gave the knob a slow turn with her left hand. Despite the care she took, sharp stings radiated from her wound site.
She needed that pain pill now.
Foregoing the recycle bin until later, Greta decided just outside the door would be okay for now.
Opening the door, she stepped out onto the stoop and leaned to the right to drop the used liner.
Greta Lancaster didn’t know she wasn’t alone until the figure dressed in black grabbed her from behind, covered her mouth, and dragged her back inside her home.
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Day 15 word count – 28,640
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©2018 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved
Felicia Denise, Author 