Chapter Thirteen
The phone jangled a half dozen times before a sleepy Savannah reached for the receiver on her bedside table and ended up knocking the whole machine on the floor. Drawing the receiver up by the cord, she finally gasped a half awake “hello” into the mouthpiece.
“Having problems this morning?” Michael’s cheery voice asked.
“No, no, you just woke me. Isn’t it Saturday? I don’t have to be anywhere do I?” She looked at the clock seeing that it was nearly ten. She never slept past nine, even on a weekend; but then she didn’t often have a night like the one she’d had the night before. On first hearing Michael speak, she forgot what he’d done to her just hours before, thinking only that she always enjoyed the resonant tone of his voice. Moving slightly in bed, she winced,
