"When was the baby born, do you remember?" Oh, ahhh... early December, I think. Maybe... '85?" he murmured, trying to remember the date. He remembered...it had been snowing.Sandra had gone deathly still. Her eyes were fixed on something that didn't exist on the far wall, and her hand was cold as ice in his. He looked at her, his eyes widening. "Oh my god, you... you aren't...?"Her eyes slowly shifted to his, and they were bright with tears. Tears of shame, of guilt, but even more so, tears of. She lies there in bed for a little bit, huffing occasionally because she is tired and sexually frustrated. Blackie is still gone for his studding, so she cannot have him. She is still mad at Rick because of what he did to her. It wasn’t all bad, but she wishes she would have had more of a say in it. And then there is the problem with herself and having that stupid daydream about the man while she masturbated. Her troubles on the farm are nothing compared to these problems. She has spent her. More

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