Barbara's Plea Read Online Free

life, and it all just spilled out. I’m so—”
    “Grey, stop.” She held her hand up, and I closed my mouth on my next apology. She tilted her head to the side, and her eyes softened, “You lost two people that you loved and have had everything ripped out from under you, and yet you have the most polite and humbling manner I have ever seen in a man.”
    I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.
    She tapped her manicured nails on the tabletop as she pondered something, “Do you have more pictures of the work you have done, the rocking chair or other things you have made?”
    I had a whole box of pictures back at my apartment. “Yes,” I stated slowly, “why do you ask?”
    “I want to see those pictures. I might have a job for you, but I need to see more of your work.”
    “Gloria, I’m not asking for charity.”
    “Oh, I know you are not, Grey, and this is not charity. I am working on a project and those rocking chairs might just be what I need to finish it up. If it works out, you are going to have a lot of work to do to get them done—that is—if you are interested.”
    I scrutinized her momentarily, “You’re serious? This isn’t a charity bit to help a guy out of a hard time.”
    “No, Grey. I have been working on this project for some time, and it is approaching completion, but I always knew it was missing something. Your rocking chair might be just the exact piece of the puzzle that I need.”
    “Okay,” I said slowly, “but I told you I had to sell all my tools.”
    “And I said my husband was a wood crafter, I believe that I will have everything that you could need in his workshop. Let’s finish breakfast and then you can show me your photos.”
    I cringed, “I’m not sure you would want to go to my apartment. I could bring them to you.”
    She flicked her fingers at me. “Eat up, young man. I don’t care what your humble abode resembles. I want to see those pictures.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I mean Gloria,” I grinned as she lifted an elegant eyebrow at me.
    Thirty minutes later, I pulled up in front of my apartment in the bad part of town. “Are you sure you want to come in here? It’s not a nice place, but it was all I could afford.”
    “I can handle myself,” she said as she pushed her entire body against the door of my truck to get it open.
    I had tried a second time to get her to let me bring the photos to her, but she was a force to be reckoned with and refused.
    Luckily, I had a bottom floor right inside the main door, so I didn’t have to make her walk through the rancid hallways with mold and urine and whatever else was on the floors and walls.
    I wondered as I opened the door what I might have left out in the open that would embarrass either her or me, but as I swung open the creaky front door, I did a quick pass over the area and saw everything was put away—not that there was much left after I had sold it all.
    Gloria entered, and I closed the door behind her softly. “I’m sorry about the condition of this place,” I mumbled as I passed by her.
    She put her hand on my arm and stopped me in place, “Grey, sometimes we have no control over where we have to live, or why. Don’t be embarrassed that this is where you live. Your home is very neat, much neater than most men’s places that I have seen,” she crinkled her nose, “although it does smell rather, pungent.”
    I laughed, “Sorry about that, the neighbors cook some odd things.”
    “Why don’t you get the pictures, and I’ll have a seat at the table.”
    I hesitated, “Actually, if you want to see the real thing, I still have the rocking chair, I could bring that out.”
    “By all means, I’d love to see the finished product.” She beamed as I left the room to get the chair from my bedroom.
    The wooden rocking chair sat in the corner, hidden under a dark blue throw. While there was no way I could sell it, I couldn’t look at it. Memories still flooded my consciousness every time my gaze rested upon