Read Online Twelve Months by Steven Manchester - Free Book Online
Authors: Steven Manchester
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she whispered. âThatâs when my dad gets home from work.â With an amazing smile, she hurried off.
Soaked to the bone, I stood in the street repeating 555-8374 in my head until it became a song. I knew in my heart this was the woman heaven had delivered to me on a bolt of lightning. After striking a few more random targets and forcing the trees to dance, the dark clouds suddenly dispersed. As if the entire world had been cleansed, a fresh perspective was left behind. I loved lightning storms. If you endured the trouble long enough, the peace it brought was indescribable.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
And we did stay in touch. Her dad was very strict, so we dated whenever we could sneak away. I was never sure if the pearl was real or fake, and I didnât care enough to ask. The real jewel was Bella.
Chapter 4
Upon returning home from my visit to memory lane, I was met with a kiss from my wife and three enormous suitcases sitting at the door. âWeâre leaving for the Vineyard at first light tomorrow,â she informed me.
âWill I have time to shower and shave?â I teased.
She grinned. âAs long as you can make it quick.â
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Even though it was still off-season and weâd left the house in the early morning light, the traffic down to the Cape was thick. The shuttle bus from the parking lot to the dock was packed. As we pulled up to the Steamship Authority terminal, I leaned over and kissed Bella. The excitement was building and I wondered again why weâd only been a few times to my favorite place on Earth. It was only a few miles down the road and a chilly ferry ride away.
Bella hung over the side of the boat, but I couldnât take the rolling waves and rocking handrails. I stayed inside and tried to meditate the time away. When that didnât work, I read one of the island brochures:
More than a century ago, Marthaâs Vineyard was home to nearly half of the worldâs whaling fleet. Sons and husbands left their families and boarded giant wooden ships to find their fortunes. As petroleum became a popular use of fuel, however, whale oil was no longer needed. Vineyard Sound and Nantucket Sound became the highways for the great Atlantic coastal shipping fleet. Many ships anchored in Vineyard Haven harbor, awaiting a high tide and a fair breeze. For three centuries, Vineyarders have looked to the sea for their livelihood. Where once whaling and shipping had been the backbone of the economy, it has since become travel and tourismâ¦
I looked up. The harborâs distinct skyline was dominated by church steeples and a fleet of wooden vessels. As if I were ten again, I felt a celebration try to break free from my throat. I hurried to the outside deck to find Bella.
We docked in the very same harbor where Spielberg had filmed the movie, Jaws. Among the masses, we walked down a bouncy metal ramp to join the onslaught of weekend tourists that came to spend money, make memories and join the mass exodus on Sunday evening â tanned, smiling and carrying bags of souvenirs home. Most people, generations of them, came back year after year. âWe must have been too busy with work and keeping up the house,â I thought aloud and shook my head at our foolishness.
âBut weâre here now,â Bella said.
It was a different world, long removed from corporate America. From the largest and busiest harbor on the island, I could feel the ocean breezes on my face and taste the salt on my tongue. âItâs like heaven,â Bella added.
I hope so, I thought.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Kinsman House was only four blocks from the dock and town center. It was a beautifully restored 1880 Victorian, a former sea captainâs home that had been converted into a quaint Bed & Breakfast.
Three ancient oak trees shaded the front lawn. After stopping to catch my breath, we stepped onto the full-length porch through an archway of thick
Soaked to the bone, I stood in the street repeating 555-8374 in my head until it became a song. I knew in my heart this was the woman heaven had delivered to me on a bolt of lightning. After striking a few more random targets and forcing the trees to dance, the dark clouds suddenly dispersed. As if the entire world had been cleansed, a fresh perspective was left behind. I loved lightning storms. If you endured the trouble long enough, the peace it brought was indescribable.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
And we did stay in touch. Her dad was very strict, so we dated whenever we could sneak away. I was never sure if the pearl was real or fake, and I didnât care enough to ask. The real jewel was Bella.
Chapter 4
Upon returning home from my visit to memory lane, I was met with a kiss from my wife and three enormous suitcases sitting at the door. âWeâre leaving for the Vineyard at first light tomorrow,â she informed me.
âWill I have time to shower and shave?â I teased.
She grinned. âAs long as you can make it quick.â
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Even though it was still off-season and weâd left the house in the early morning light, the traffic down to the Cape was thick. The shuttle bus from the parking lot to the dock was packed. As we pulled up to the Steamship Authority terminal, I leaned over and kissed Bella. The excitement was building and I wondered again why weâd only been a few times to my favorite place on Earth. It was only a few miles down the road and a chilly ferry ride away.
Bella hung over the side of the boat, but I couldnât take the rolling waves and rocking handrails. I stayed inside and tried to meditate the time away. When that didnât work, I read one of the island brochures:
More than a century ago, Marthaâs Vineyard was home to nearly half of the worldâs whaling fleet. Sons and husbands left their families and boarded giant wooden ships to find their fortunes. As petroleum became a popular use of fuel, however, whale oil was no longer needed. Vineyard Sound and Nantucket Sound became the highways for the great Atlantic coastal shipping fleet. Many ships anchored in Vineyard Haven harbor, awaiting a high tide and a fair breeze. For three centuries, Vineyarders have looked to the sea for their livelihood. Where once whaling and shipping had been the backbone of the economy, it has since become travel and tourismâ¦
I looked up. The harborâs distinct skyline was dominated by church steeples and a fleet of wooden vessels. As if I were ten again, I felt a celebration try to break free from my throat. I hurried to the outside deck to find Bella.
We docked in the very same harbor where Spielberg had filmed the movie, Jaws. Among the masses, we walked down a bouncy metal ramp to join the onslaught of weekend tourists that came to spend money, make memories and join the mass exodus on Sunday evening â tanned, smiling and carrying bags of souvenirs home. Most people, generations of them, came back year after year. âWe must have been too busy with work and keeping up the house,â I thought aloud and shook my head at our foolishness.
âBut weâre here now,â Bella said.
It was a different world, long removed from corporate America. From the largest and busiest harbor on the island, I could feel the ocean breezes on my face and taste the salt on my tongue. âItâs like heaven,â Bella added.
I hope so, I thought.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Kinsman House was only four blocks from the dock and town center. It was a beautifully restored 1880 Victorian, a former sea captainâs home that had been converted into a quaint Bed & Breakfast.
Three ancient oak trees shaded the front lawn. After stopping to catch my breath, we stepped onto the full-length porch through an archway of thick
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