He jumped out of the water to his rifle. He had to dry his hand on the grass before he could prime it.“Don’t shoot,” a female voice said.“Rosa...ind?” If hadn’t quite sounded like Rosalind. He raised the rifle barrel and held the sacking over his privates.“Not Rosalind, Katherine.” The girl came out of the trees slowly, as if she were afraid he would decide to shoot.“Rosalind is my cousin.” He could see the family resemblance. Or, maybe, it had been so long since he’d seen a white girl before. The week passed slowly as if Saturday would never come. When I arrived, the sun was shining but the temperature had reached 32 and the humidity was closing in. You must have seen my truck pull in because by the time I was out you had already breezed out the door and down the stairs like a breath of spring. Your blond hair tied up in a ponytail bobbing behind you and your yellow summer dress dancing over your body as you moved. The puckered elastic material clinging to your breasts showing just. More

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