Read Online The Secret Keeping by Francine Saint Marie - Free Book Online Page B

you’re not—let’s stop in here for some ice cream—you’re a woman in love.”
    She was taken aback. “I don’t want any–how do you know?”
    “Because I’m not a little girl, either. Who doesn’t want ice cream after a martini?” she asked, gently pushing Lydia inside the deli door.
    Delilah decided the flavor and they went home to eat it.
    “I can’t eat. What did you mean, Del? Who goes on vacation now?”
    “Yum–oh, you’re depriving yourself here–she’s obviously on vacation.”
    “Go on, you have it.” She watched Delilah wolf the ice cream.
    “Vacation, Liddy. I’m sure of it.”
    Lydia weighed the possibility. It didn’t make sense to her.
    “That never occurred to you, did it, Liddy?”
    (NO.) “What am I going to do, Del?”
    “Last bite?”
    Lydia shook her head no.
    “You need a plan.”
    “Plan? How do you plan for this?”
    Delilah laughed. “Tell me all that you’ve done about it.”
    “Nothing,” Lydia admitted.
    Delilah threw the empty container and the spoon into her sink. “Oh, really? That much?”
    _____

    At first, though she had no idea how she got there, it was quite pleasant. It was nice to be alone with just the gentle slapping of the waves against the little boat. Nice, the butterflies in her stomach as she lifted and fell with each wave, the fluttering sound of the solitary sail in the gentle sea breeze.
    And it was so sunny.
    But then the wind suddenly picked up and the ocean swelled around her. There were huge waves now rocking the boat, each time lifting it a little higher, each wave bringing her closer to the darkened sky and depositing her harder against the water.
    The butterflies gave way to sea sickness. The boat jerked from side to side, rising and falling, groaning and listing. She saw the mast nearly touching the surface, felt the craft threatening to capsize. And from under the hull, there came a thud. Once. Twice. At the sides and then below her again. She could hear it through the wind and waves whipping at her, stinging her face and body. She flipped over. There it was behind her.
    Something was in the water, bashing against her boat, trying to see what the craft was made of, testing its worthiness.
    Something big.
    The waves crashed violently over the deck. She was tossed to the back and clung to the edge there, face up and drenched. The boat was filling. Over her head the wind tore at the remnants of her sail. She heard the crack of the mast and the rigging as it ripped free and the persistent thud, thud, thud of the thing, something that was circling her beneath the water.
    Lydia was damp and inextricably bound up in her bed sheets when she awoke from her nightmare. It was still dark and she was not sure of the date or even what time it was.
    But it was five o’clock on a Saturday morning.
    And everything was fine.
    Just a dream.
    _____

    It was a morning opulent enough to rouse even the summer gods from hibernation and they woke on such a day no different than the mortals under their dominion, ambitious and edgy, eager to exercise their authority.
    They stirred and stretched their powerful arms, reaching far into the brilliant sky around them. They squinted at their clocks, grinned and reset them, time arbitrarily altered just for fun.

    Just for fun they tickled the universe in all its sensitive places and made it laugh again. Below them, they lengthened the day.
    If humanity suddenly lurched at the whim of these capricious fingers, if its endeavors now moved only in fits and starts, if all its boats rocked free from their moorings, it was just business as usual returning, the industry of fair weather gods determined to rule their kingdom and to test their subjects’ mettle. They were going to have fun this year.
    The cherry trees were summoned by winged messengers and together they blasted a bright pink alert across the city. Indoors the wallflowers glowed and houseplants bloomed, bursting forth like popcorn. They stretched longingly