made the kitchen melody, a duo. No wait, the rattle of plates, cutlery and cups, a chorus. Joining in, was the soft click of high heels. June removed her apron, hung it on the refrig door handle, picked up a tray and entered Ward's office. She set down the tray and stirred some creamer into his coffee. With tray in hand, as she turned to leave, he asked her if she had a few moments. She took a seat upon a leather padded chair across from the his executive. She then arose to get her cup, which was sitting on the kitchen counter.
He took a key and unlocked a drawer and pulled out his daughter's spiral bound notebook. "Have you read any of this."
His wife's jaw dropped a bit. "No. Of course not."
"NO?"
June took another sip from her cup and placed it back on its saucer. She then met his gaze. "Dear, that would be prying."
"Molly is sixteen" Ward responded "You're supposed to pry!" He handed her the notebook.
She opened the volume, turned a few pages. "What beautiful penmanship!" June lovingly turned a few more pages.
Somebody just shoot me, Ward rolled his eyes. Sometimes the lady's ditsyness just amazed him.
Near the middle, was inserted a business card - Decker and Dee's, a little coffeeshop across the street from the law office. June turned to the marked page. "Like the Nation of Gilead, the United States of Socialist Republic was also a theocracy. While the former professed to worship the Holy Trinity, the later made Lennin their god. Whenever the State dictates who, and who not, is God, it's always a salvation-by-works religion. Always."
The following several pages contained about a dozen quotes from the framers of the United States Constitution - many whom June was clueless. During her US history class, sometimes just staying awake was enough ... between milking cows at 5am, stacking firewood, lugging feed bags, shooting coyotes...
"Ward, our Molly is so smart." June beemed.
Not wanting his response to be taken the wrong way, Ward paused, before blurting his, "too smart!" But moreso, neither did he want to create more worry than needed. But, at the same time, to just go on, as if it was still the 2010s - when high schoolers could raise their hands and ask questions, and respectfully voice disagreement...Those days were gone.
Along with several individuals.
They never did find the sister of one of his colleagues. Shortly after that youngish widow had self-published "The Smith's." He'd gone through a ream of paper, and about three cartridges; the volume, in a binder, was safely hidden upon a shelf, in the long cabinet, located to his right. Needless to say, her novel - which she had made freely available...and never mind, she could have used the money...anyway, her site, unsurprisingly, was no longer available.
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