Dorothy Dawson Novels & Stories

“Birthing cows, saving lives. The family business.” Dorothy laughed and swatted Wes on the arm. “That’s my boy,” she said, whipping her pen and pad from her apron. “I do have to say,” she continued, turning to me, “that I’m feeling like I’ve stepped back in time. Seeing you two kids together, it takes me back.” She smiled and my eyes darted to Wes. He waved Dorothy off. “I can guarantee you haven’t.” “Thank the Lord.” Dorothy laughed. “I couldn’t live without my Netflix.” She paused, chewing on the end of her pen. “What I wouldn’t give to have my waistline back, though.”

Shin wanted to ask another question, but he didn't have time to do so because at the same time Dorothy came out of the kitchen with food and drinks. She smiled brightly as she placed the food and drinks on the table, “Eat it while it's warm and ... drink this hot chocolate to make your body much warmer.” “Thank you, Mrs ... Gardner,” Diego and Shin said simultaneously. “I'd rather you call me auntie, Aunt Dorothy. And ... young man, I was never married to Jody Gardner, so ... my name will be the same, Dorothy Winks,” Dorothy corrected. Shin quickly nodded while Diego smiled apologetically.

"She is yet to wake up. But according to the marks on her body, she has been under abuse for a long time. Others were still fresh." "It's like she had been whipped for a good number **of** years." The doctor said. "Do your best to make sure that she wakes up as soon as possible," Ashton said. "Yes, Alpha. We will do our best." Ashton waved his hand and walked towards the study room. Theo was following him. "What did you find out from your investigation?" "The girl's name is Maya Brown. She was saved by Mark Syden, the now alpha of wind winders pack." "What did you say her name was?" Ashton asked. He felt like he was hearing things.

The door locked behind us. “How are you doing?” She asked, finally releasing me from her embrace. “I don't know.” “Let's sit.” Dorothy said ushering me to her white sofa close to the dining room. She had a handmade pillow on her sofa, she had gotten one every year from her grandmother in Massachusetts. I sat down and Dorothy went to the fridge getting me a glass of cold water. I was thirsty…. not for water but for a $350,000 cheque. “I got the news I contacted my manager at the company where I work. There is a vacancy.” Dorothy started, walking towards me with the glass of water in her hand. “Here, you look pale. Get hydrated a first.”

I hissed, glaring at her while holding my hand. “Didn't you see me walking in? Why didn't you greet me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “You're such a rude woman. No wonder why your mother-in-law can't stand you.” I mumbled under my breath. “Well, the feeling's mutual.” “What did you say?!” I let out a sigh before turning to the woman. Dorothy was a housewife who relied on her husband's wealth to feel revelant in the elite society. She wasn't smart or hardworking, but always followed other people's plans and ended up being the scape goat most of the time.

But I am. Because I know what she sees when she looks at me now. A traitor. A ghost. She’s late. Everyone notices. I glance at the time for the fifth time, then rub the sweat off my palms. Then the doors open. She walks in. And everything in this room goes silent for me. Even the chewing. Even the camera shutters. Even my own pulse. Dorothy’s in black. From head to toe. Not a strand out of place. Her face is done but tired. Not tired like sleepy. Tired like war-torn.

Dorothy closed her eyes lightly, her face filled with regret. She regretted believing Janice and going against Larissa and Ambrose. If she had just kept to herself, she would still be the prestigious First Lady. She would have never been reduced to this. Luckily, the heavens had helped her. Just now she had almost been killed by the clones, but the subordinates of Ambrose had arrived right on time, and she had escaped harm. Now that things had come to this, Dorothy had come to terms with everything. Wayne's head turned stiffly toward Janice. His emotions went from shock to disappointment, then to hate and disgust.

Meals were brought to me three times a day, but the place felt like it had been forgotten by the outside world. That night, Rosie appeared in a silk nightgown. Her beautiful face was bare of makeup as she gazed at me with a look of tender sorrow. “Evan, don’t blame me for this! I had no choice but to do things this way to make sure nothing went wrong!” Her eyes shimmered with tears. Her pitiful expression was designed to tug at the heartstrings of any man.

Ronnie crossed her legs and straightened her back, glancing between the two. "A good supposition, Deputy, but we need hard facts that lead to this conclusion. We need to find Parker or his body and talk to Dottie. Did you happen to run her through the national database?" Joe asked, running his hand through his hair. Ronnie stood. "Excuse me. I have an idea." She hustled to her desk and entered the name Dorothy Cavendish. She'd been looking for a record for Dorothy Sykes who had no record because that wasn't her name. Dorothy Cavendish apparently wasn't her name, either, so she tried Dorothy Morrow. Bingo!

It was quite easy to transform Jane Puckett, scholarship student and chronic coffee drinker, into Jailbird, the mysterious masked dancer in Fantasy Island. The hangover would have to wait. Bills didn't pay themselves.