Matecumbe by James A. Michener Read Free Book Online

pastimes—crossword puzzles and mystery novels.
    Melissa also discovered that Joe liked to attend horse races, dog races, and pro-football games.
    Melissa told him he might enjoy meeting her stepfather, who was also a horseracing fan.
    When their evening together had finally ended, and Joe had dropped her off at the Seascaper, he suggested that they spend a few hours the next day exploring the local beaches.
    “We can look for conch shells, do a little swimming, and I’ll even show you the hurricane monument,” he added. Melissa again noticed that same pained look cross Joe’s face, and she couldn’t help but wonder what deep hurt lay buried behind Joe’s friendly eyes.
    However, at this point in their budding relationship, Melissa would have agreed to a tour of bombed-out buildings, greasy spoon diners, or even the lobby of a rural post office—such was her attraction to a cop named Joe.
    They kissed each other good night, ever so briefly, yet tenderly, at the door of her room. Joe’s kiss was all that Melissa had dreamed it would be—strong and definitely compassionate. It was, she hoped, a harbinger of the good things yet to come.
    Melissa waved to him as he drove off, once again feeling a rush of impending romance—the kind that turns teenagers into one-track fantasy machines and women of all ages into carefree dreamers.
    Then, alone in her room, she wished that her white alley cat, Coke, could be with her.
    It was at times like these, when the good things happened, that she liked to report to Coke. Vocally, she’d describe everything positive that she had just experienced—whether it was to tell a tale about a funny incident at the library or to talk without being interrupted about a book she had just finished reading or a play she had recently attended.
    For Melissa, Coke served as a diary without pages or a tape recorder that could never be played back. And, regardless of what Melissa would tell her, Coke would remain mute, never criticizing.
    “It’s a good thing your name isn’t Grass,” Melissa laughed, pretending that Coke was purring at her feet. “If it were, Joe might have second thoughts when he meets you.”

 

Chapter 4
    The coffee and cola would have to keep her awake. It was 6 a.m., and Mary Ann had just finished working the all-night shift at her weekend cashier’s job. She normally tried to catch an hour or two of rest before reporting to work, but she was unable to do so this time. Melissa had another asthma attack that frightened her and kept her from going to bed on time. “Oh well,” thought Mary Ann, “that’s what being a mother is all about.”
    She punched out, left the convenience store with a bottle of soda, and walked home.
    Within an hour, Paul had arrived, ready for their trip to the horse stables. Paul was the owner of two racehorses in a partnership with one of his co-workers.
    Mary Ann had never visited a racetrack stable area. Melissa, her only daughter not allergic to horsehair, would accompany them. As a precaution, though, Mary Ann brought along the pulmonary-inhaling machine that her girls used for asthma emergencies.
    Owning a horse of her own was one of Mary Ann’s long-time fantasies. The farm next to her parents’ boarded horses, and she often spent many an afternoon as a child wondering what it would be like to ride one of those beautiful creatures. She would often daydream about riding her horse, alone, along a snow-covered path in the mountains—far removed from buildings, highways, and people. In reality, the closest she’d ever come to actually owning a horse was her collection of coffee mugs—20 all told—each decorated with the colorful likeness of a horse—some in action scenes and others standing motionless in their own majesty.
    Mary Ann and Melissa petted Paul’s horses, fed them carrots, and took turns walking them around the barn. Melissa made friends with a huge gray cat, who purred constantly while rubbing his body against her