Chapter 7

(Well now! We have gotten LOTS of e-mails complimenting our story. We're glad you are enjoying it. Anyway, I will start here by answering a few of the more frequent questions that came to us by e-mail, and then continue with a section we call; "Things didn't work out as planned."

Q: How old are you people?

A: As of this update, 5-26-2015, I am 56, and Kitty is 42.

Q: Why didn't you ever have kids before fostering Kitty?

A: Marie (my first wife) and I tried for several years to have a child. But, I am one of those fellows with a VERY low sperm count. No idea why, it just worked out that way.

Q: Were you the "Daddy" in the old "Daddy-J" website?

A: Nope. Totally different person.

Q: When did you start writing things down about you and Kitty?

A: Actually, I started writing my thoughts about her and us shortly after I picked her up in Jacksonville. Not all the notes are of wild and crazy sex (although some might think that). I re-read my earlier entries and shudder at the writing style. I guess it has taken me some time to become a decent story-teller. Kitty has been working on her writing skills, so you will see more of her writing soon. We are only letting you folks see certain entries that we have chosen after much deliberation.

A: Can we see any of the pictures you take of Kitty (and Jacqi)?

Q: No.

On with our story... )

The late autumn storm was sending sheets of water down from the sky. Not exactly the time to be out running errands, but I had no real choice. After taking care of my assorted business, I decided to stop at a convenience store to grab a cup of coffee. The cold and damp had seeped into my body, and honestly, I needed the caffeine.

The sun was down and the storm made it all the darker, as I pulled into the parking lot. I could see the lights from the store reflected in the puddles that covered the asphalt. I hopped out, went inside, and made my purchase.

As I exited the store, that is when I first noticed her. She was standing in the shadows, just at the edge of the building. She was wearing old jeans, a hooded sweat-shirt, and was soaked. In fact, I think the term "drenched to the skin" would better describe her. As I paused to open the car door, I heard a voice...

"Hey, mister? I was wondering if you had a dollar? I'm sort of in a jam." It was the girl.

"A jam?" I asked. By the looks of her, she was probably one of the many runaway kids that ended up in Virginia Beach, trying to scratch out an existence on the street.

"Yeah," the girl answered. "Just a dollar, please? I could use something hot."

I had seen it too many times. A lost waif, who had learned the hard way that life had a way of kicking you in the teeth when you could least afford it to. And honestly, I'm a sucker. I pulled out a $10.00 bill from my wallet and handed it to her. I noticed that her eyes locked on my open wallet for a moment and she studied the cash inside it.

"Go get something to eat. And for your information, there's a shelter a few blocks from here run by a church. They can give you a bed for the night." By now, I was starting to get wet also from the steady rain.

"A shelter? Where?" She looked up at me with hope in her eyes.

"Up a few blocks on 4th Ave. By the Presbyterian Church."

She paused a moment, then looked me dead in the eye.

"If I get a quick cup of tea, can you drop me off?"

I paused a moment. Would it be a risk to let a stranger into my car? Suppose she had a gun and the "drowned rat" routine was a ruse? I decided to risk it, and nodded. She went inside, got her drink, and after pocketing the change from the money I gave her, came outside. By then, I was already back in my car, with the motor running. She got inside, and gulped down her tea, wincing as the hot liquid hit her tongue.

"What's your name, miss? And just how old are you?"

Forward questions, but I wanted to know the answers.

"Lizzie. Sixteen."

"Well, Lizzie, I'm Tom. Let's get you to the shelter. They can give you a change of clothes, a hot shower, and a warm bed."

The words seemed to touch something in her, and suddenly, Lizzie was weeping, head down in her hands. "A warm bed. God, I can hardly remember how good that feels. Tom, you have no idea how fucked up my life is right now."

I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I asked what she meant.