that her mother shared was laced with a degree of excitement that soon set Kyra’s teeth on edge.
“It says here that ‘keys’ comes from the Spanish word
cayos
, which means ‘little islands,’” she said. “They’re composed of coral and limestone and there are forty-two bridges connecting them. In fact, the Overseas Highway is built on what was once Henry Flagler’s overseas railroad—that was what first connected the Keys to the continental United States.”
Kyra smiled and nodded. No comment seemed required.
“Oh, look!” Maddie pointed to a sign barely two minutes later. “We’ve just officially crossed into the Conch Republic—the
ch
is pronounced like a
k
so it sounds like ‘konk.’”
“Kunk!” Dustin said.
The story of how the Keys seceded from the United States in April 1982 to protest the U.S. Border Patrol roadblock and car searches for drugs and illegal immigrants that were impacting tourism followed. “And then they declared war on the United States, surrendered a minute later, then applied for one billion dollars in foreign aid.” Her mother laughed. “Isn’t that awesome?”
“Absolutely,” Kyra said. “Totally awesome.”
Kyra stole a look at her mother. Who had always played by the rules, been the responsible party, done the right thing. And was now completely enthralled by political shenanigans that were little more than a publicity stunt.
“I bet you don’t know what a conch is!” her mother said.
“Then you would be right.”
“It’s a large marine snail—a mollusk—and a staple food in the Keys. That’s why they call someone who was born and raised here a Conch.”
“Because they look like snails?” Kyra asked, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“I can’t wait to try conch chowder. And conch fritters. And . . .” She flipped through one of the books on her lap. “You wouldn’t believe what all they can make out of that snail.”
Maddie buzzed on with excitement. A veritable mosquito of happiness that Kyra wanted to swat at.
“Did you know that Key Largo used to be called Rock Harbor?”
“Um, no. But I loved the movie,” Kyra said. Bogie and Bacall had had an affair on the set of their first film just like she’d had with Daniel. Only no one had gotten evicted from the film—or pregnant. And Bogart had left his wife for his costar.
“According to this guidebook, in 1948 local officials talked the post office into changing its name to Key Largo to capitalize on the movie,” Maddie said. “Even though they shot the whole film on a soundstage in California and Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall never even set foot here.”
Her mother flipped through a magazine. “Oh, my gosh! We just missed the Bogart Film Festival! But they have the
African Queen
, the boat that was used in the Bogart/Hepburn movie, on display. It even goes out for tours occasionally.”
“Af Keen!” Dustin chimed happily.
Still fighting the urge to slap down her mother’s happiness, Kyra simply smiled and nodded. Fortunately as the mile markers slid by, Kyra’s irritation began to ebb. It was hard to stay cranky when confronted with the incredible expanse of sparkling turquoise water and the crisp blue sky that met it. Mother Nature had definitely known what she was doing when she laid out the string of islands, decorated them with tropical plumage, and then squeezed them in between not one but two luscious bodies of water.
“The keys take a westward turn right around Marathon,” her mother said with one eye on the map that she’d pulled, accordion-like, out of one of the guidebooks. “And right after that is the famous Seven Mile Bridge.”
“Bitch!” Dustin exclaimed, the teething ring forgotten for the time being.
Both of them turned their heads around.
“I think we’re going to have to work on his pronunciation,” Maddie said.
“Are you kidding? I think we should record it for playback the next time we hear from Tonja Kay.” Kyra
Learning to Kill: Stories