Read Online Miracle Woman by Marita Conlon-Mckenna - Free Book Online
Authors: Marita Conlon-Mckenna
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attitude, regretted the way she had approached things. Picking up her keys, she tried to make amends.
âMartha, thank you for speaking to me, and letting me into your beautiful home. Iâm sorry for disturbing you and holding you up.â
She stretched her hand out to shake the other womanâs hand. The farewell handshake was brief but even in that few seconds Lara could feelit, the heat and energy that radiated from Martha.
Relieved, Martha stood watching her go, inwardly cringing at her own sheer stupidity.
âMartha!â Lara called back as she went down the front path. âOrdinary? I donât think youâre ordinary at all!â
Furious with herself afterwards, Martha replayed the interview in her head, admonishing herself for being foolish enough to have let the journalist across the threshold of her home. God knows what that girl would write! She picked up the phone and punched in Mikeâs number: her husband would be angry but at least she could talk to him about it.
âMom,â interrupted Alice. âCan Katie and Rachel and I have a drink? Weâre real thirsty.â
The three of them looked hot all right, theyâd been playing some makeup pony and jumps game in the back yard and needed some time out in the shade.
Disappointed to find that Mike was away from his desk, Martha left a message on his voicemail.
âAlice honey, Iâve got a jug of almost ice cold orange in the fridge, howâs that sound?â
The girls did a joyous canter, Rachel OâMalley tossing her long red hair over her shoulder and almost neighing. Martha laughed aloud. She was just being foolish worrying about something that might not even happen.
Chapter Seven
THE
BOSTON HERALD carried the story about three days later. Martha hid her head in her hands, disbelieving the words on the page. How could any respectable, responsible newspaper print such things!
Mike read it over and over, as if by looking at it long enough somehow or other he could manage to change the content of Lara Chadwickâs article. âThose bastards!â he complained, smashing his hand against the kitchen counter.
Mary Rose gave Martha a scared, embarrassed look and she only thanked heaven that Alice was in the other room engrossed in
Songs from the Little Mermaid
on the TV.
âNew England Miraclesâ. Thatâs what sheâd called it.
âAt least itâs not on the front page,â argued her husband, clenching his jaw and mouth with tension.
âMike!â
A threatened airline strike at Logan, a profit warning from one of the huge over-hyped new technology companies and the fining of a local actress for drink driving had mercifully saved her from that.
Martha sat on the kitchen chair feeling numb and miserable, her family around her. Patrick bent down and wrapped his arms around her.
âItâll be all right, Mom, no-one really reads the newspapers and if they do no-one believes them!â
âDâya think?â
âYeah, Mom, definite!â
âFor sure,â Mike added, coming and sitting beside her.
âThe only thing is, Mom,â added Mary Rose, âis that you
did
do it! I saw you heal him. Everyone else saw you too, so itâs not like that journalist woman made it up or anything.â
Martha gazed at her daughterâs serious face, the slightly lopsided full lips, the pale fair skin, the intelligent, brown-green eyes that were scrupulously honest and fair. Mary Rose had never been able to lie and had a forthrightness about her that some considered difficult and that often got her into trouble both at school and with her friends.
âMost of what she actually said in the paper is true.â
Faced with such honesty, Martha had to agree, but it just was so weird to read words written about yourself and try to be rational about what was printed. She was only getting used to thehealing gift herself and certainly hadnât reckoned on
âMartha, thank you for speaking to me, and letting me into your beautiful home. Iâm sorry for disturbing you and holding you up.â
She stretched her hand out to shake the other womanâs hand. The farewell handshake was brief but even in that few seconds Lara could feelit, the heat and energy that radiated from Martha.
Relieved, Martha stood watching her go, inwardly cringing at her own sheer stupidity.
âMartha!â Lara called back as she went down the front path. âOrdinary? I donât think youâre ordinary at all!â
Furious with herself afterwards, Martha replayed the interview in her head, admonishing herself for being foolish enough to have let the journalist across the threshold of her home. God knows what that girl would write! She picked up the phone and punched in Mikeâs number: her husband would be angry but at least she could talk to him about it.
âMom,â interrupted Alice. âCan Katie and Rachel and I have a drink? Weâre real thirsty.â
The three of them looked hot all right, theyâd been playing some makeup pony and jumps game in the back yard and needed some time out in the shade.
Disappointed to find that Mike was away from his desk, Martha left a message on his voicemail.
âAlice honey, Iâve got a jug of almost ice cold orange in the fridge, howâs that sound?â
The girls did a joyous canter, Rachel OâMalley tossing her long red hair over her shoulder and almost neighing. Martha laughed aloud. She was just being foolish worrying about something that might not even happen.
Chapter Seven
THE
BOSTON HERALD carried the story about three days later. Martha hid her head in her hands, disbelieving the words on the page. How could any respectable, responsible newspaper print such things!
Mike read it over and over, as if by looking at it long enough somehow or other he could manage to change the content of Lara Chadwickâs article. âThose bastards!â he complained, smashing his hand against the kitchen counter.
Mary Rose gave Martha a scared, embarrassed look and she only thanked heaven that Alice was in the other room engrossed in
Songs from the Little Mermaid
on the TV.
âNew England Miraclesâ. Thatâs what sheâd called it.
âAt least itâs not on the front page,â argued her husband, clenching his jaw and mouth with tension.
âMike!â
A threatened airline strike at Logan, a profit warning from one of the huge over-hyped new technology companies and the fining of a local actress for drink driving had mercifully saved her from that.
Martha sat on the kitchen chair feeling numb and miserable, her family around her. Patrick bent down and wrapped his arms around her.
âItâll be all right, Mom, no-one really reads the newspapers and if they do no-one believes them!â
âDâya think?â
âYeah, Mom, definite!â
âFor sure,â Mike added, coming and sitting beside her.
âThe only thing is, Mom,â added Mary Rose, âis that you
did
do it! I saw you heal him. Everyone else saw you too, so itâs not like that journalist woman made it up or anything.â
Martha gazed at her daughterâs serious face, the slightly lopsided full lips, the pale fair skin, the intelligent, brown-green eyes that were scrupulously honest and fair. Mary Rose had never been able to lie and had a forthrightness about her that some considered difficult and that often got her into trouble both at school and with her friends.
âMost of what she actually said in the paper is true.â
Faced with such honesty, Martha had to agree, but it just was so weird to read words written about yourself and try to be rational about what was printed. She was only getting used to thehealing gift herself and certainly hadnât reckoned on
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