Read Online Angel Landing by Alice Hoffman - Free Book Online

Ruby’s Café. When I reached Minnie’s the porch light was still on. Even though the wind was strong, I stayed out on the porch for a while. Finn might have gone home to his apartment, or he might have decided to park his Camaro on some deserted beach, he might be looking at the same stars that I looked at. From where I stood on the porch, I could see through the lace curtains into the parlor; it was nearly midnight, but Minnie was still awake.
    She sat in the easy chair, her feet stretched out in front of the fire in the wood stove. She was waiting up for me the way she had done ten years before. That was the last summer I spent at Minnie’s, I was eighteen, far too old for the curfew Minnie imposed on all her nieces and nephews.
    â€œYou’re home,” she would say when I sneaked in the door at one or two in the morning. “Finally,” Minnie would say with a sniff.
    I turned the key in the lock and walked inside, expecting an argument. Minnie would ask me where I’d been; I would inform my aunt that I simply refused to be treated as I had been ten years earlier. I paid eighty dollars a month for my room; not a fortune, still, I expected some privacy. But when I stood in the hallway and hung up my coat, Minnie didn’t rush from her chair to accuse me for my late hours. There wasn’t a sound from the parlor; Minnie must not have heard me come in.
    I went to the parlor doorway and looked in. The fire in the stove had burned down low; Minnie’s shoulders were hunched over, tears ran down her face. Immediately, I retreated to the entrance hallway; I had walked in on too private a time, I had seen too much—much more than Minnie would have ever allowed. I went to the door, opened it, then slammed it shut. I wanted to give my aunt time to collect herself; I would come in again, I would avoid her tears.
    â€œMinnie,” I said after I had slammed the door shut. I thought I could hear her moving. “I’m home,” I said loud.
    â€œThat’s nice,” Minnie called from the parlor. “That’s fine.”
    â€œIs there anything I can get for you?” I asked as I threw my coat around, creating as much noise as I possibly could, arranging it so that my aunt and I would not have to meet face to face. “How about some tea?” I called. I had never before seen Minnie cry; I had not imagined that she could. Even when Uncle Alex died, she had stood stoically at the gravesite.
    â€œI don’t want anything,” Minnie said from the parlor. “I’m reading a novel. Historical. About the Greeks.”
    My aunt was lying; there had been no book on her lap, only a white linen handkerchief. And Minnie never read novels, historical or not. “All right,” I called to my aunt. “I’m going upstairs.”
    I put my hand on the banister and then stopped; I could see Minnie’s profile, she looked like any one of the old women I had seen earlier, at the Mercy Home.
    â€œGood night,” I said. I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I didn’t want to force Minnie to explain her tears any more than I would want to explain the confusion which had been growing from the moment Michael Finn appeared behind the bleachers. “Good night,” I called again.
    â€œYes, yes,” Minnie answered, her voice urging me to hurry, to get up the stairs before any questions arose, before we had to confront each other. “Very good. I’ll see you in the morning.” Minnie sounded as if she could not wait to be alone once more, then she would hold the linen handkerchief to her cheek, she would return to whatever thoughts kept her awake at such a late hour.
    I went right to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Between the sheets, beneath the quilt Minnie had stuffed with goose feathers, I tossed and turned; I could hear the waves in the harbor as clearly as if water were rising right outside my door. Somewhere Michael Finn slept