Widow, Virgin, Whore
Deanna Lynn Sletten
Widow, Virgin, Whore
Copyright 2011 Deanna Lynn Sletten
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
eBook ISBN: 10:1941212069
eBook ISBN: 13: 978-1-941212-06-6
Cover Creator: Deborah Sletten of Tugboat Design
Excerpt from Maggie's Turn Copyright 2013 by Deanna Lynn Sletten
Excerpt from Memories Copyright 2011 by Deanna Lynn Sletten
Author’s Note
This book was originally published in 2000 when there was still little known on how to properly treat people who were HIV positive or who had full-blown AIDS. Since then, many medical advances have been made in the treatment of AIDS. Tolerance for people with AIDS as well as people in the gay community was very low then and not as open and accepted as it is today. Please keep this in mind as you read this book. The good news – we as a society are making great strides in learning to accept all lifestyles and, hopefully, we will see an end to AIDS in the near future.
Chapter One
"Well, what do you think?" Katherine Samuals spun in a complete circle, arms raised, her voice echoing in the empty room.
"I love it," Denise Richards replied, watching her friend complete her circle. "But this is going to take a lot of work. Are you sure you're up to it?"
Katherine slowly surveyed the room around her, pleased by what she saw. The work didn't bother her. It would be a fresh start and a new challenge. The house she lived in now held too many memories. This would be an ideal way to begin making new ones.
"I’ve always wanted a Victorian house like this to fix up," Katherine said, beaming. "I don’t care how much work it is. All it really needs is some paint and a new finish on these floors." Her heels clicked on the oak floorboards as she walked across the room to the bay window that viewed Puget Sound. "Any amount of work is worth this view. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?"
From the center of the room Denise smiled, obviously delighted by her friend's enthusiasm. Katherine hadn't been this excited about anything for a very long time.
"Yes, it is. And this house will be beautiful when it’s fixed up."
Katherine turned and faced Denise. "The only question left is whether you want to live here, too. You can have your choice of any of the four bedrooms upstairs. I don’t care which room I have, and Chris isn’t choosy either, he likes them all. The only room I want is the upstairs turret room. It’s going to make a great office." Katherine stopped speaking, eager to hear her friend’s reply. Her ability to afford this house rested upon whether Denise wanted to share the expenses with her. "Well, what do you think?" she asked, hopeful, holding her breath in anticipation.
Denise gave her friend a small smile. "I would love living here. This beats an apartment any day. But are you sure we can stand each other, living together twenty-four hours a day?" she asked, teasing.
Katherine let out a relieved sigh, walked over, and placed her arm around her friend's shoulders. They made a striking pair together. Katherine was tall and lean with rich brown hair that fell straight to her shoulders and classic features warmed by sparkling brown eyes. Denise was slightly shorter and shapelier, her auburn hair long and thick, her blue eyes bright within her olive complexion. So different, yet both beautiful in her own way.
"We’ve been putting up with each other since the sixth grade. I don't think living in the same house together will change anything," Katherine said with a smile.
They both laughed and Katherine pivoted on her heel once more, excited that Denise had agreed to move in.
"I can’t wait to get started," Katherine said. "I want to paint Chris' room before he starts school, refinish the floors, paint the kitchen cupboards, and..."
"There is one thing, Kathy," Denise interrupted, hesitantly. "I was wondering. What are your plans for the apartment over the garage?"
Katherine shrugged. "I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about that, yet. Why? Did you want that room for yourself?"
Denise shook her head. "No, no. I’ll be happy with one of the bedrooms upstairs." She hesitated again, biting her lip. "Actually, I was thinking of Darla."
"Your sister?" Katherine scrunched her nose in distaste.
Denise nodded. "She has to change apartments again. She can’t afford the one she’s in now, and, well, when she heard you might be buying this big house, she asked if I’d talk you into letting her rent from you."
The spark in Katherine’s brown eyes dulled at the mention of Darla. "There’s no way your sister and I can live under the same roof. She hates me, and I’m not that thrilled with her, either."
"She doesn’t really hate you. She’s mean to everyone, even me," Denise said matter-of-factly.
"It’s more than that. She’s crazy. And raunchy, rude, mouthy, and trashy. For Pete’s sake, Denise, she has orange hair and wears silver platform shoes." Katherine shook her head. "No. There’s no way I could live with her. One of us would end up killing the other." Katherine waived her hand in the air as if fanning away an undesirable smell, then turned toward the window again.
Denise took a deep breath. "That’s why I thought the apartment over the garage would work. It has its own bathroom and entrance from the outside so it won't feel like she's actually living with us. We’d have to share the kitchen, but since she doesn’t cook, we won’t see her in there much, either."
Katherine stood straighter and squared her shoulders, a sure sign she wasn't going to yield. So Denise dealt another reason from her deck of arguments. "And it would mean more rent money to help pay for the house," she added softly.
Katherine pondered this as she slowly studied the house she so desperately wanted to own. She loved the sunken living room, where they now stood, that stretched out into the dining room before ending at the swinging oak door leading into the kitchen. She stared at the louvered doors that closed off the pass-through from the kitchen to the dining room that she already planned to paint white and add round ceramic knobs to. The kitchen was small, but serviceable, with enough space to add a table and chairs where they could sit for breakfast every morning. She turned to view the foyer that held the oak staircase leading up to the bedrooms above. Katherine could picture an umbrella stand by the door, a parson's bench by the staircase, and a blue woven rug on the entryway floor. And the view. She completed her circle and stepped closer to the window showcasing the view of the beach, and bay beyond. The house sat high above Puget Sound. There was a planked front porch overlooking the water, the perfect place to set white wicker chairs with striped cushions and perhaps hang a wooden swing. Tread-worn wooden steps led down to the beach below. Yes, she wanted to own it all, despite its need of stain, paint, and good old-fashioned elbow grease. And extra rent money could help make it all happen.
Sitting down on the bare window seat, Katherine faced her friend, still not completely sold on the idea of including Darla in the plan. "But she brings home anything in pants. And sleeps with it!" Katherine shuddered at the thought of all the men Darla had slept with. It disgusted her.
Denise
lowered her eyes to the floor, her burgundy, wire-framed glasses catching the sunlight and glinting in Katherine’s eyes for a split second. She played her trump card. "You’re right. It was a crazy idea. Actually, I was only thinking of Chelsea when I suggested it."
The mention of Chelsea touched a raw nerve in Katherine. Chelsea was a sweet, twelve-year-old girl, the same age as her son Chris, who didn’t deserve a mother like Darla. Chelsea had moved from apartment to apartment with her mom, never being able to settle in one for long. If anyone deserved a decent home, it was Chelsea.
Katherine's resolve dwindled, which was evident from the slump of her shoulders. Denise's timid nature was usually no match against Kathy’s strong will, but after twenty-four years of friendship, Denise knew how to appeal to Kathy’s heart.
Denise ventured forward. "Chelsea’s been a latch-key kid since Kindergarten. I thought, since you work at home most of the time, it might be a nice change for her to come home to a place where someone is waiting for her. And she and Chris get along so well. They’re practically like brother and sister. It would give her a real sense of family. I think she needs that."
Katherine stared down at her shoes on the bare, wooden floor and thought this over. Outside, a single gull bellowed as it made its way over the house to the beach below. The faint smell of salt air drifted in through the open front door. She inhaled deeply, wanting to fully experience the scents and sounds of beach life. The serenity of water lapping upon the shore was something Katherine craved after a year of hectic and heartbreaking decisions. And she knew, deep in her heart, that this was the place where she could find the peace of mind she craved. Sharing it with family and friends might also be exactly what she needed.
Feeling good about her decision, Katherine stood. "You’re right. Chelsea deserves some sort of family life and we’re the ones who can give her that." She gave Denise a faint smile as she crossed the distance between them. "We’ll give it a try."
Denise reached up and hugged her long-time friend. "Thanks, Kathy. It will work out, I’m sure of it."
Katherine nodded, but her face tightened. She wagged a finger at Denise. "But if Darla does one thing to annoy me, she’s out. Deal?"
"Deal. But we get to keep Chelsea, right?"
"Absolutely." They hugged again. Denise was relieved at the outcome, and Katherine was already forming a plan in her mind to include Chelsea, and of course, Darla, into the household. Chelsea and Chris would start middle school in September together, perhaps making the transition in schools easier. Yes, it just might work.
Feeling lighthearted again, Katherine and Denise headed toward the front door where the real estate woman was waiting for an answer. "Let’s go buy a house," Katherine said, and the two friends headed out the door with arms linked.
***
Two weeks later, Katherine was up to her armpits in paint, stain, varnish, and wallpaper. She was able to begin work on the house immediately after signing the papers, so she took a week off from her job at the King County Journal and flung herself into fixing up her dream home.
The first thing Katherine did was recruit Chris' and Chelsea’s services in painting their bedrooms. Chelsea was not only thrilled at the prospect of living with her favorite aunts and Chris, but also with being able to decorate a room of her own.
"I’ve never lived in a house before," the excited teen told Katherine, her blue eyes sparkling. Chelsea had her aunt’s thick, auburn hair and deep blue eyes laced with dark, full lashes and brows. She was often mistaken for Denise’s daughter. The only feature that resembled her mother was her high, prominent cheek bones. Chelsea was growing up to be a beauty, there was no doubt. But like her aunt, she chose not to flaunt it as her mother did.
The kids picked out the colors and fabrics for their rooms. Chelsea chose to paint hers in a rose and cream stripe with pink floral curtains for her window. Chris decided on a sea mist green for the walls and wanted to boarder the room with white shelving to place his seashell and rock collections on. His room would reflect him, a no-nonsense kid, neat, orderly, with a place for everything. His appearance reflected this too, his sandy blonde hair neat but not fussy, his clothing clean but not overly stylish. At age twelve, he was tall and already in the lanky stage of his teen years. But he wasn’t at all clumsy. Chris was very athletic and participated in several sports.
Katherine helped both kids get started with paint rollers and brushes, then began her own work downstairs. She hired a man to sand the living room, dining room, and entryway floors, then refinished them herself before painting the walls a soft cream color. She hung white lace curtains in the bay window and added a thick blue and white striped cushion on the seat. Katherine then turned her attention to wallpapering the tiny bathroom upstairs. Her goal was to make the place livable before moving in and then worry about any major fix-ups afterward.
Denise came in the evenings to lend a hand. Unlike Katherine, she couldn’t take time off from her job at the Community Hospital near downtown Seattle where she worked as the records clerk in the Pediatric/Maternity Ward. Policy required six weeks notice for vacation time, so she had to be content with helping out on nights and weekends.
Katherine insisted Denise take the master bedroom with the small bay window that overlooked Puget Sound. Katherine had a great view from the turret room that she was going to use as an office, so the bedroom on the side of the house was fine for her needs. After much protest, Denise gave in and set out to decorate her room in her own style much as the kids had done. Everyone’s tastes blended to combine rooms that complimented without clashing. The cream wallpaper with soft pink roses that Katherine placed in the upstairs hallway was the perfect link between the rooms, the oak molding being the common thread that joined them all together. Looking at the rooms, one would think from their common tastes that they had all come from the same family. That is until Darla finally made her appearance.
It was the second weekend since they had begun work on the house. The day was warm and dry, so Katherine recruited the kids to paint the front porch a dove gray color while Denise supervised and painted the front door white. Katherine was in the kitchen, scrubbing the tile countertops, when Darla entered through the back door in all her tight pant, silver shoe glory.
"Oh, my God, a Victorian house," she stated aloud, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her glossy red mouth. "I should have known you’d own a tight-ass house." She leveled her gaze on Katherine, waiting for a reaction.
Katherine squared her shoulders and turned to face that gaze. "If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay."
"What?" Darla gave mock surprise, raising a splayed hand to her abundant breasts. "And miss out on this experiment of sisterly love and friendship? Why, I wouldn’t dream of leaving." She took off her sunglasses and placed them on top of her too-stiff, orange hair. "Now, where am I supposed to park my ass?"
All the way to hell, Katherine wanted to say, but instead she pointed up the stairway on the opposite side of the kitchen. "Your room is up there. You can get to it from the outside, too. There's a stairway is on the other side of the garage."
"Much obliged, Miss Kate," Darla said mockingly, making Katherine bristle. She hated being called Kate or Katie, and Darla knew it.
Darla turned and stepped out the door, hollering, "Okay, boys. It’s the stairs by the garage. You be careful with my stuff, ya hear?"
"Okay, boys?" Katherine mouthed, and looked out the kitchen window in time to see Darla sashay on three-inch heels over to two men standing on the back of a U-Haul truck. "Oh, great, she brought her Johns along." Katherine watched long enough to see them unload a leopard chaise lounge before turning her back to the window and raising her eyes to Heaven. "What did I get myself into?"
Chapter Two
Summer ended and the newly formed household settled into the daily routine of family life. Chelsea and Chris started middle school and both kids were doing well and enjoying it. Chris was involved in basketball after school and Chels
ea joined the Orchestra, choosing the violin, much to her mother’s chagrin. The days were quiet as the adults went off to work and the kids to school, but evenings bustled with activity as everyone returned. Voices filled the rooms, along with the sounds of a basketball pounding against the floorboards and the whining strings of a violin.
Although Katherine enjoyed the family atmosphere of the evenings, she cherished her quiet days working in the turret room. As a staff writer for the King Country Journal, she did most of her writing at home and only went into the office to drop off her work. Her 'beat' consisted mainly of local school board and city council meetings, with an occasional special interest article. It paid the bills, but she longed to write more interesting pieces. But since she had only been with the paper a year-and-a-half, she was given all the work no one else wanted.
Katherine loved her turret room office. She left the windows bare and positioned her desk so she could view Puget Sound as she typed on her computer. The view of the western sky touching pale blue water energized her, allowing her to dream of selling the fiction novel she’d already completed and long to continue writing others. If she was ever going to become a novelist, she knew this was the room, and view, that would inspire her.
Fall brought to Puget Sound the beauty of lush amber and golden colors in the surrounding landscapes. Crisp mornings were filled with the scent of damp pines touched by salt air, and cool evenings brought pink and orange sunsets, reminding the residents of the house that winter wasn’t far away. As dusk settled in one evening, Katherine lit the fireplace in the living room and sat on the plump sofa to watch the evening news as Denise came in from the kitchen to join her. Both women were usually home in the evening, as were the kids. Darla, on the other hand, was rarely around. She worked as a hair and makeup stylist at KSPS, the local public television station, alternating between day shifts until five o’clock and night shifts until eleven o’clock. On the nights she didn’t work late, Darla went out with friends or her current boyfriend until all hours of the night. Katherine and Denise never knew her schedule from one day to the next, nor did they miss her presence.
Widow, Virgin, Whore - A Novel Page 1