Read Online The Secret of Everything by Barbara O'Neal - Free Book Online Page B

morning were fantastic. She loved their hands, their crisp shirts, the sharp line of hair above their collars.
    There were more. A few other shots of the farmers’ market that burst with color and shape and vibrancy; a shot of the ancient cottonwood; one of the lane last night, narrow and ending in the cantina.
    As a teenager, Tessa had written an essay declaring the goals for her life. There were three: She wanted to see the world, buy her dad a house, and have a photo published in
National Geographic
. On the first one, she’d made fairly decent progress—she’d been to thirty-seven countries and actually lived in four. The second had been achieved when she helped her father buythe little bungalow in Santa Cruz seven years ago. She’d given up the idea of getting a photo published in
National Geographic
, but she still loved photography as part of her job—really, her avocation.
    By the time she’d edited the photos she’d uploaded since arriving in Los Ladrones, she was starving and ordered a casual supper of soup and bread. While she waited, she surreptitiously watched a pair of lovers—she a vision of cascading hair, he much older and smitten and wealthy.
    On the table, her phone flashed and spun around in a vibration dance. Tessa picked it up. “Hi, Dad,” she answered, turning away from the other diners and lowering her voice to be polite. “I just sent you a picture you will love.”
    “In the mail?”
    “No,” she said with the exaggerated patience she used for his computer allergy. “To your email address. It’s totally free.”
    “It won’t be free when I have to pay the guy at the Internet café.”
    “You know the answer. A computer of your very own!”
    He made a dismissive noise. Honestly, she thought with a smile, it seemed like the most computer-resistant population was in Sam’s demographic: ex-hippies and Vietnam vets suspicious of “the man.” “You having a good time?”
    “Ran into some rain on the way in, which was freaky, but other than that, it’s great. Did we go to movies at the Chief Theater?”
    “Probably. I don’t remember. Look familiar?”
    “Yes.”
    “Learning anything?”
    She drank a long swallow of beer. “Not really, not yet. I’m in the main hotel, on the plaza, and I went to the farmers’ marketthis morning and ate at the famous café, where,” she said, smiling, “I had the
best
oatmeal. In your honor.”
    “That’s sweet.” He told her about his surfing on great waves stirred up by a front, and hearing his voice made her miss him a little. There was no one like Sam.
    What, she wondered, had he been like when he first arrived in Los Ladrones? He’d gone to Vietnam and come back furious, dropped out, and traveled the country on a motorcycle. More than one of his endless store of adventures involved brushes with the police and not a few actual arrests for petty trespasses—fighting, drinking, the usual.
    That had all stopped when Tessa was born, and although he’d still pursued an unconventional career, he’d been sober and straightforward and never in trouble.
    “Do you have any pictures of yourself when you were at the commune, Dad?”
    “Maybe, somewhere. Why do you want them?”
    “Just curious, really. I’m thinking about the past, thinking about you, what you looked like then.”
    “Handsome,” he said.
    “Of course.”
    “You know, Tessa, there are times in a person’s life that aren’t worth remembering. I’ve tried to forget about the commune days. I understand why you’re there, but it wasn’t the best time in my life, you know?”
    “Right. Sorry.”
    “No apology necessary, kiddo. I’m just not all that crazy about revisiting the whole thing myself.”
    “Understood.” The waiter brought her soup, and Tessa straightened. “My supper just got here. I’m going to let you go, all right? Kiss Peaches for me.”
    “Will do. Give yourself a hug from your dad.”
    “Go look at the pictures I sent!”
    “I