Deep as the Marrow
F. Paul Wilson
© 1996 by F. Paul Wilson
Smashwords edition 2010
"...and then you know what Jimmy did?"
John VanDuyne struggled to concentrate on his six-year-old daughter's story about the baddest boy in her kindergarten class. It wasn't easy. His eyes kept drifting back to the screen of the little kitchen TV on the side counter.
Morning was the brightest part of the kitchen's day, but even now, with the spring sun cascading through the windows, it was still fairly dim. A 1970's kitchen, with dark oak cabinets and furniture, a Congoleum floor, and harvest gold appliances and counter tops. If he ever decided to buy the place, he'd want to brighten it up. But each year he put off the decision and renewed his lease.
"No, Katie," he said. "What did he do?"
Katie slurped up a big spoonful of her Lucky Charms and chewed as quickly as she could. She was really into this story. Excitement shone from her bright blue eyes.
My eyes, he thought. The round face, clear skin, and long, dark glossy hair are her mother's; and she's going to be petite like Marnie. But those are VanDuyne eyes.