"Wonderful. And I suppose you heard about the Martin boy." She made a tisking sound. "Poor young fellow."He nodded and squinted at her. "They say you ...ad a hand in that, or a whip perhaps."She looked up and him and blinked her eyes. "Who, me? You know I don't own a whip."On her way home, Anne stopped by the factor's store to buy some powdered bug killer, and Mr. McMillan had an envelope for her, addressed in a hand she did not know in care of her late father in Annapolis.Sitting in her. Positive. Think positive. When she closed her eyes, she felt like she could feel rain, washing away all her negative thoughts, cleansing her of all of her worries and doubts about the new tattoo.If she had to cover up the tattoo, she wouldn't be able to wear her usual combination of jeans and a shirt - any time she bent over, she risked showing off even a hint of her back, and as soon as anyone saw that she had a tattoo, they'd want to read what it said.But she could easily find the positive in. More

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