Underestimated
Authors: Jettie Woodruff
This book is a work of fiction. References to real
people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations
are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and
are used fictitiously. All other characters, dead or alive
are a figment of my imagination and all incidents and
dialogue, are drawn from the author’s mind's eye and are
not to be interpreted as real.
Warning! This is not your everyday fall in love
romance. This book contains disturbing situations, strong
language, graphic, sexual content, some forced, some not.
If it's your happily ever after love story that you are
looking for, you should probably move on. If you are up
for the ride, stick around and it may just turn into a love
story after all.
Dedication
To Syd for all of your feedback and support.
To Ms. C. Barr for the hours of perverted conversations
while this book was being transformed.
Only at the warehouse.
Copyright© 2013 Jettie Woodruff
All rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission of the
author.
Chapter 1
Of all of the thirty-six alternatives, running away is
best.
I couldn’t hold my eyes open for one more second.
I had just driven two thousand nine hundred and fifty four
miles, fifty seven hours, not including the six hours that I
tried to sleep at the Motel 6,
twice
. Thirty four more
miles, according to the robotic voice coming from the box
stuck to the windshield of my not so new, used car.
The closer I got, the more my nerves began to
stand on end. What the hell was I doing? Who does this?
Who walks away from their life to start all over? And
when I say all over, I truly mean all over. My entire
existence had been nothing but an illusion.
My name is no longer Morgan Kelley. That one
would take some getting used to. I spent hours of my long
drive going over the aspects of my new life with my
invisible friend in the passenger seat. We actually had
hours of conversations, okay, so they were one sided, but
they were without doubt, conversations. I had even given
my new friend a name and called him slash, after the three
inch gash in the cheap vinyl seat.
My name is Riley Murphy. I moved to Misty Bay,
Maine from Carson, Indiana when my company
downsized, and I lost my job as an advertising rep. The
small two bedroom cottage was a gift from my late
grandmother. “Wow, a small cottage in Misty Bay,
population, one thousand seventy five.” I interrupted my
life studies when reality sat in for the millionth time since
I had left Las Vegas. I mean Indiana. “Dammit Morg...
Shit, I mean Riley.” I need to sleep. I just need sleep. I
can’t function. I know this. I have it all embedded in my
brain. I am going to be fine, and there is nobody from
Misty Bay, Maine looking for me. I had to stop. I couldn’t
repeat my new life out loud or to myself, one more time.
Not if I intended to keep my sanity in tack. It was already
on the verge of toppling over.
“Turn right in one point seven miles,” the robotic
voice instructed. I turned right and was on a curvy
blacktop road barely wide enough for two vehicles. The
coast was absolutely breath taking, and did wonders for
my nerves. I reached over and cranked the handle, rolling
down the passenger side window. My nerves calmed even
more when I heard the waves crashing to the rock walls
below me. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to be living
by the ocean. I could walk along the beach anytime I
wanted, and I would too, I promised myself.
‘Welcome to Misty Bay,’ I finally read the
homemade wooden sign, situated in the fresh spring, green
leafed trees off the side of the road. I drove through the
small town, looking out every window in the car. My head
spun around until it wouldn’t rotate any further. One bank,
one post office, one grocery store, one small library which
looked like it would fit in the one that I use to go to in Las,
I mean Indiana, at least ten times.
‘Reminiscent,’ I read as I pulled to the curb. This
was where I would be working. Me, working in a coffee
shop slash, hippy store. I had never had a job in my life. I
felt a little whinsical thinking about it. I looked into my
rearview mirror. I still had the bruise just below my right
eye, but I had four days to get settled before I started
work. It should be gone by then.
I waited for the school bus to pass and continued
on my journey, excited to finally reach my destination.
“Turn right,” the voice instructed again. I made a right and
was on a one lane graveled road. It was a quaint little
neighborhood, and an older gentleman waved as I passed
him retrieving his mail. “Arriving at destination, on right,”
I was informed. It wasn’t what I was expecting at all. The
cottage was sort of by the beach, and I hoped there was a
strategy to get off of the mountaintop to enjoy it. The aqua
blue color of the house had to go. Who in their right mind
would paint a house that color? It was the ugliest blue I
had ever seen. I actually had a sundress pretty close to that
color. I wouldn’t be wearing that, I decided when I got out
of my car. It was the beginning of May and the temperature
might have been sixty. When I left Las, I mean Indiana, it
was ninety nine.
I opened the gate, just off from the driveway. The
picket fence was nice, and I liked the white, but would
unquestionably be changing the color of the house. I
walked up the small porch and unlocked the door, the door
to my new home. “Wow,” I said out loud to no one. The
living room was open and led to the small dining area. I
walked across the hardwood floor to the other side. I
loved the French doors that led to a nice deck, although it
was further away from the beach than I had hoped. I turned
back to the bright yellow walls on every wall that I could
see. The kitchen wasn’t bad and had updated, modern
appliances, but the bright yellow paint was already giving
me a migraine. The countertops were a dark gray color. I
thought that they were some kind of fake marble, but I
could work with that.
I walked toward the side of the house and peeked
in the bathroom. I was pleasantly surprised. I was happy
to see the rather large claw foot tub, and was gratified to
see that the walls were a pleasant neutral, olive green
color. I liked that room, and it only needed a good
cleaning. I opened the first bedroom door and thought it
would make a nice office. It was small but had a
reasonable size window overlooking the ocean. I could
even live with the light blue walls. The next room was
bigger, but nothing like I was used to in Indiana. I smiled
to myself when I remembered that I was from Indiana and
not Las Vegas. It too had a marvelous view, overlooking
pine trees and also the Atlantic Ocean. The walls were a
soft, subtle gray, and I loved it. One less thing to do. I
noticed how rocky the yard seemed to be, and then it
dawned me. I would have to mow and take care of the
yard myself. At least there was a small shed to keep a
lawn mower. Lawnmower? I didn’t know how to buy a
lawnmower. Where do you even buy those things?
Okay so maybe I didn’t think this through all that
well. I had no bed. Where was I supposed to sleep? The
only furniture left in the house was a table and four chairs.
The table was one of those round plastic outdoor tables
with a hole running through the middle of it for an
umbrella. The four plastic chairs didn’t even match. One
was green, one was white, and two were brown. No couch
either, this was just brilliant. I had the money, and I had
planned on buying new everything. That part I was looking
forward to, however, it didn’t help much at seven o’clock
on a Thursday night. Food! I had no food either. I was so
tired. I honestly didn’t want to go back into town, although
it would have taken me a full three minutes to drive. I
decided to unload my car and at least get a much needed
hot shower. No. I wouldn’t be doing that either. Well I
could, but I had no soap, no shampoo, no wash cloth, and
not even a towel to dry on. I didn’t even have a blanket to
cover up with, let alone lie on.
I unloaded what clothes that I had. Nothing was
mine, not even the clothes that I was wearing. Ms. K had
made me change them and put on the ones that she had
gotten for me. I didn’t even take any of the expensive items
from Drew. Ms. K told me not to, afraid that if I pawned
them, they might be traced, and that was a chance that I
wasn’t willing to take. I didn’t even get the one framed
picture of my Grandma Joyce, the only person who had
ever cared about me or my wellbeing. The pictures of my
life after Drew could have gone up in flames, and I
wouldn’t have cared.
After I had my clothes carried to the room that I
would call mine, I dragged myself back out to the car. I
remembered seeing a Dollar General Store back in town.
At least I could get a pillow, and a couple of blankets to
sleep on. I desperately wanted some bathroom supplies,
and I supposed that I should go to the grocery store.
I went to the Dollar store first, that was my first
mistake. By the time I had bought two hundred and twelve
dollars’ worth of supplies, enough to get me through until I
could go shopping the next day, the grocery store had
closed. I bought a coffee pot and had no coffee for the next
morning. My new adventurous beginning was not in
accordance with how my mind had played it out… at all.
What was I supposed to eat now? I hadn’t had anything
since around noon, wanting to put the miles behind me,
and just get there already. Get there, to an ugly blue house
that was close to the beach, if you could get down the
mountain. Get there to a house without a bed or food. Get
there to a house that I had to wear my sunglasses inside
because the bright yellow paint hurt my eyes.
I unloaded my new belongings. I didn’t put
anything away in the bathroom. It seriously needed a good
scrubbing. Why didn’t I buy cleaning supplies at the dollar
store? At least I could have disinfected the tub. I used the
cheap strawberries, and cream shampoo and a new
washcloth to clean the tub, and then filled it with hot sudsy
water. It felt sensational, and the tension that had begun to
build again started to evaporate. I tried to think about my
