A Love of Her Own by Bettye Griffin Read Free Book Online Page B

long since she’d last been kissed, or Hilton White had affected her in a way no other man had. A loud buzz of warning went off in her head, reminding her that she had no right to be so interested in Hilton or in any man. His sudden and unexpected appearance in her life aroused all the feelings of inferiority that had plagued her for so long. She had to find out about his personal life. That was the key to whether or not there was any possibility at all…
    She declined to complete the thought, too accustomed to the disappointment she had experienced with every new relationship to even hope such a thing could be conceivable.
    *****
    Sunday dawned clear and seasonably chilly . Ava got into grubby but comfortable gray sweat pants and a matching sweatshirt, lit the fireplace in her bedroom and pulled out her year-end folder of receipts and tax records. It was time to begin the organization process to file her tax returns. This way by the time the final filing version of the computer tax program she used was delivered in January she would be prepared to input her information and increase her self-employed retirement contribution, if necessary.
    It was a big job and took nearly two hours . When she was done she reached for the remote control, content to simply relax and watch some TV.
    She recognized the movie The Witches of Eastwick playing on a syndicated network. The sly character Jack Nicholson was playing was seducing Michelle Pfeiffer. “I warn you, I get pregnant,” she was saying.
    Ava made a face and changed the channel . She stopped at one of the cable entertainment networks, which was running an interview with a well-known actress whose career had sadly descended to becoming a poster child for plastic surgery, in which she was discussing a woman’s right to choose. The actress declared she was pro-choice but added, “If I didn’t have my children, my life would be…maybe not meaningless, but awfully empty.”
    Ava blew out her breath and changed channels a second time . She settled on a documentary profiling the Boston Strangler. Surely with that there wouldn’t be any comments like the ones she’d just heard.
    Or so she thought . One of Albert DeSalvo’s former prison mates was being interviewed, and as he recalled his distaste for the convicted killer, citing the large number of his victims and adding indignantly, “Some of them were mothers!”
    Ava sucked her teeth and said a choice phrase aloud, although there was no one around to hear it. She resisted the urge to put her foot through the television screen, knowing she’d only regret such recklessness when she calmed down. She settled for carefully aiming the remote control at the man who was talking and clicking on the power button. Instantly the man’s image faded to black. The action satisfied her need to express her frustration in a violent manner—like firing an imaginary gun—but his inane comment lingered in her mind. It was attitudes like that that made her feel that in the eyes of the world she was worthless. Not that the man meant it would have been all right if the strangler only killed women without children, but he obviously felt that a mother’s life was worth more than that of a childless woman. Nor did Ava need to be reminded of how easy pregnancy was for some women, or how empty her life seemed without a family of her own…
    She bit on her lower lip, closed her eyes for a few moments and counted to ten in an attempt to calm down . Every now and then she got the distinct feeling her strength was being tested, and this was one of those times.
    She decided some fresh air would make her feel better . Maybe she’d drive over to the mall and do some speed walking. Heck, if she could sit here and watch all these depressing comments on television, dealing with the mall, with its Christmas decorations, Santa Claus and holiday music, would be a snap. While she was there she would treat herself to a big salted pretzel and honey sauce after