”Everybody looked at the darkness beyond the bow, but the flare had long since descended to the surface and all was darkness.“Really, Captain, is ...his necessary? Couldn’t you simply call the Coast Guard or something? This seems like an awful lot of ruckus for the middle of the night,” protested the sleepy owner.With a look born of a lifetime of staring down ignorant yet willful ensigns, the captain gazed at Malcolm. “Sir, you may be the owner of this vessel, but I am her master, and that was. And the pain! Searing, throbbing pain. It didn’t matter who knew she was on the rag. She pounded on the door, chains rattling outside.“Mom! Dad! I need to use the bathroom!” No response.She placed her ear over the wall bordering the hallway. Muffled voices could be heard. The terms ‘reformatory school’ and ‘Christian values’ floated through the plaster, stinging her ears with venom.“I’m eighteen. They can’t send me off without my consent,” she scoffed. Then with more desperation in her voice,. ”“Worship?” Jake asked, a little surprised. “Well, I guess you could call it that.” It was true, he realized. There wasn’t anything about her that he didn’t love, except the way she always seemed to argue with him.“I do, don’t I,” Tabatha mused, listening to his thoughts. ‘It doesn’t hurt so bad, now, if you want to continue ... I’d like you to ... I want you to.’Jake rolled onto his side and put his arm around her. They kissed, allowing their passion to build, more gradually this time. Soon,. Again, no surprise, one was from Annie. Again, moved to "Annie's Bullshit" folder. Nothing else of interest was in my inbox (how did the word get out about my tiny tool? I sure enough got enough e-mail offers to remedy my [ahem] shortcomings!), so I turned the computer off, got undressed, and went to sleep.This pattern repeated for the next several days, typical of my week on/week off schedule. Come home, empty lunch pail, read e-mail, move e-mail from Annie to Annie Bullshit Folder, slumber. A.