Read Online Whale Season by N. M. Kelby - Free Book Online

baby,” Po said and ran a hand through his sun-bleached hair, kissed his cheek, and said nothing more.
    The night before the All-Stars were taken away, Leon sat up with Miss Pearl, feeding her a last meal of her favorite, marshmallow cream and bananas sandwiches on Wonder Bread. She gummed them by the loaf full. When she was done, she licked his hand in appreciation, as she always did. Put her massive head in his lap. Let him scratch the cool leather of her chin.
    â€œHowdy,” Leon said to her over and over again, but Miss Pearl wouldn’t say a thing. She just rolled her eyes back in her head and looked at him. It was as if she knew. At least that’s what Leon thought. Made it hard to look her in the eye.
    The next morning when the men came to get her, Leon took Miss Pearl’s hat and put it under his bed. He kept it there for a long time. His mama was right. Nobody could forget Miss Pearl. Leon never forgot her at all.
    Not even now.

Chapter 8

    A s they drive past Lucky’s RV Round-Up, Jesus waves. “It’s an American Dream,” he tells Dagmar.
    â€œSure,” she says. “Not my dream, but somebody’s.”
    In her rearview mirror, Dagmar sees the tail end of something parked around back by Leon’s office—something large, shiny, and new. Where would he get a rig like that? she thinks. Bob the Round-Up Cowboy seems to wink. Dagmar speeds up. Some things are better left a mystery.
    â€œSo what are you doing in Whale Harbor?” she asks Jesus.
    â€œI’m here to save souls,” he says in a Jehovah Witness kind of way.
    This is not the kind of discussion Dagmar wants to have with a Jesus guy on Christmas morning—or ever. But he leans in. The air feels colder, damper, smells more like dying fish than saltwater. She wishes she’d left the top of the convertible up. His dark hair whips around his face. Makes him look even crazier, more dangerous.
    This was just not a good idea, she thinks. Her heart revs.
    â€œAre you ready for life everlasting?” he asks.
    Dagmar pretends not to hear. “I’m going to drop you off at The Pink. You can get a bus from there to wherever you’re going.”
    She drives even faster. He knew her name. And is now waiting for an answer. Just ignore it, she thinks. Lack of sleep is making her stomach grind. Her hands sweat. She turns on the radio. Bing Crosby is dreaming of a white Christmas.
    Jesus shrugs, sings along for a while. He has a nice voice, a solid baritone.
    When Dagmar pulls into The Pink, it’s closed. She turns the radio off. From The Pink it’s miles away to the interstate, too far to walk. She looks at her watch, nearly 7 A.M. Jimmy Ray is waiting. She looks at the man closely. This is more than a costume.
    She has no idea what to do.
    Before she can say anything, he says, “You stopped to pick me up because you want to believe in miracles; that’s not such a bad thing.”
    When he says this it feels true, at least a little.
    â€œWell, I just—”
    â€œI can wait here,” he says.
    â€œBut they’re closed until tomorrow.”
    â€œTomorrow is only a day away.”
    Now, she feels badly. That small-town girl still within her thinks, He’s just sad and alone and confused. I’m just overreacting.
    â€œHang on,” Dagmar says. “I’ll run you out to the interstate, maybe you can catch a ride there. I just have to stop by and drop these gifts off. It’s down the road. Just take a minute.”
    The voices in Jesus’ head are screaming, “Take her now. Do it.” Makes his hand shake.
    He knows it would be so easy just to lean across the car, snap her neck with one single blow. Run the bridge of her nose through her brain.
    Simple. He could do it. Quick. Merciful.
    But a man has to have standards. It isn’t clear to him yet if Dagmar should be saved. And so, Dr. Ricardo Garcia, firm in the belief that he is