Her mom crossed to the bed and sat next to Tamara. “I wanted to talk to you,” her mom said. “I know that Greg left a little while ago and I just thought it’d be a good time for us to chat a moment.” “Okay,” Tamara said rubbing her eyes as if she’d been asleep. She could smell her delicious pussy on her fingers. Her mom patted her thigh and seemed to be waiting, or staring, though it was almost too dark to see anything. “Well?” her mom finally said in a deep, sultry kind of voice. “Well, what?” Tamara was a little confused. “C’mon, girl.” Her mom poked her side. “You’ve got to understand, your momma hasn’t been with a man in a very long time.” Tamara understood now. The talk the other day, the one where they’d eventually talked about the size of Greg’s cock. It was starting to make more sense. Since her dad had died, her mom hadn’t been with another man. They’d moved back to the States, but her mom was without a companion. Sympathy blossomed in Tamara’s heart and she suddenly. Jack, of course, was there too.It was early Christmas morning. Disconsolate and alone, I pulled the blankets back up from where I had tossed them in my futile efforts to find Abigail and lay there wracked by the awful pain of loss, saying Abigail's name over and over.I just didn't know how long I could go on with this hollowness and pain.Reverend Smith said at times like this I should pray for guidance and try to focus on some happy times with Abigail. Sometimes it worked for a little while as I got lost in the sweet memories of our love, but then it would all collapse knowing we would never have happy times again.I got out of bed and sat in the big leather chair by the window and watched the rain swept darkness, feeling the ice that gripped my soul. The clock said it was three a.m. I hadn't been asleep more than a few hours. We got back from Christmas Eve services and by the time I got Amelia settled in with Taylor, it was pretty late.Finally, I gave up and went downstairs. I walked.
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