CATHEDRAL by Patrick Sean Lee (novels to improve english .txt) š
- Author: Patrick Sean Lee
Book online Ā«CATHEDRAL by Patrick Sean Lee (novels to improve english .txt) šĀ». Author Patrick Sean Lee
Sheās not waiting for me, so I say giddyap and kick Fire a little harder. Sheās a good horse. She hurries her pace, or trot, or whatever itās called, and a few seconds later eases up beside Isabella and Shadow. Like, this whole horse riding business is easy! She even slows down once we get beside them!
Isabella glances over at me. Her face is expressionless, and then she turns forward once again, ignoring my presence. Itās all going to be up to me. Honestly, I figured as much at breakfast. She has this wall, but I have a big hammer and plenty of stamina.
āItās gorgeous out here this morning.ā I breathe the simple words out with a seductive edge dripping off them.
āItās chilly.ā Hard-edged.
āHave you ridden on this trail before?ā I ask almost immediately as she reins Shadow right onto the beginning of a trail. One that looks as gentle as a meadow. One at the end of which I wish had been that blasted lake.
āA few times. When I was younger.ā
āYounger? Youāve been to Roosevelt Lodge before?ā
āUh-huh. I hated it back then. I was thirteen. I did like horses, though. And cats.ā
That makes me laugh.
āI donāt dislike cats. I merely donāt like them.ā Now that was lame, and I bite my tongue. Come on, Matthew, you can do betterā¦she answers me with a cheery laugh. Finally, something cheery!
āYou talk like you write, sir. Did you know that?ā
Sheās smiling at me. I donāt think itās a bowled-over-by-what-youāve-just-said smile, though. Sir?
Iām getting nowhere fast.
āDo you have a horse back home?ā
āNo. I have a cat, though.ā
āI see.ā
I loathe that fucking cat. Not hers, well yes, probably that one, too.
āCan we maybe not mention cats anymore?ā I put to her as kindly as I can.
āSure.ā She goes silent for forty or fifty feet. She just looks dreamily out at the thick stand of pines we ride beneath. I try to press on.
āI have some ideas for my book. Good ones. With language that will approach Literary. You gave me those ideas. Thanks so much, Isabella.ā
She finally turns her attention to me. I knew that would do it.
āReally Mr. Ashā¦ā
āPlease, Isabella, call me by my first name.ā
āYes, wellā¦Matthewā¦how, pray tell, did I inspire you?ā
āIām not sure I should divulge that. Just be certain, though, that you did.ā
Isabella looks herself over, and then brings her eyes to mine.
āIāll bet I can guess.ā
The quick scan of herself, the disdain in her voice that hits me like a black cloud descending in a swirl almost devastates me. Itās a perfect picture of what she thinks of me. It whispers coldly to me to turn and go back the way we came.
But I donāt.
āLook, I just want to get to know you. Youāre very pretty. All right, so what? Weāre here for a week. I like you a lot so far. Is that so bad?ā
āNot at all. Itās the question of how well do you want to get to know me that makes me a little defensive. So far in the first two days youāve shadowed me. Thatās kind of creepy. Sorry. Maybe yesterday you made a bad decision up at the lake. Thatās a possibility, but last night in the sitting room. This morning after breakfast. Do you get the picture from my perspective?ā she says.
āYes, I understand, but is it so out of line for me to simply want to get to know you, even for the short time that weāll be here together? I like you, Isabella. I like you.ā
āYou like Frank, too. Why donāt you hang around him?ā
āOh seriously! What the hell is that supposed to mean?ā
I pull back on the reins. Fire comes to a halt. Shadow keeps on for a second, but then she stops. I jerk the reins left, Fire obeys and turns, and then I nudge her side.
Giddyap.
āI apologize for ever speaking to you, Isabella,ā I say without looking over my shoulder. She doesnāt answer.
Apology
Isabella
I wonāt see Matthew again until dinner this evening. Heās holed up in his room after his morning faux pas, licking his latest wounds I guess. Maybe heāll take out his anger at his keyboard, inventing a Black Widow antagonist, inspired (again, Iāve helped him?) by me.
The trail was delightfully quiet after he stormed off, and quiet for me is dangerous. It gives me time to think, and I thought a lot out there.
Brad is sitting at home, clueless. Iām at this scenic wonderland of a lodge taking stabs at this famous writer. I feel like Godzilla in the old Japanese version, trashing the guyās brains out because I can. Because he dares āLikeā me. Iām still not entirely buying his admission the way he put it, butā¦
I had to push Brad out of my mind because I canāt deal with two train wrecks at one time.
I ripped Matthewās feelings to pieces. I didnāt have to be so blunt. But Jesus, he kept coming on to me! I should have called out for him to stop. I should have kicked Shadow in the sides hard, snapped the reins, and taken off at a gallop. I should have. I should have.
I should have done something.
Instead I just watched him trot back down the trail with his head hanging. That image of him all beaten up again made me think.
When I returned, put Shadow into Charlieās capable hands, he stood there frowning. He didnāt sock me, but I got the feeling he wanted to. I wonder what Matthew told him when he returned?
Whatever. I thank sullen Charlie anyway, and then go into the kitchen. Itās barely noon. Getieās busy humming away in her floral print apron, stirring something on the stove, her back to me. I sneak up behind her smiling, and poke my fingers into her vouminous sides. She jumps and nearly sends the spoon and whateverās on it clear to the beamed ceiling. For a woman her size, sheās quick as a fox. She wheels around to face her attacker. Of course she realizes immediately that the monster is only little Izzy. She heaves the most tremendous sigh of relief a person can heave.
āIsabella, Lord Aāmighty, you scared the wits out of me!ā
I laugh. āIām sorry, Gertie, I just couldnāt resist.ā
A drop or two of something lands on my nose. It smells likeā¦vegetable soup. Already Iām feeling better, and suddenly Iām hungry. I wipe the drops off and smile at her. She sighs again.
āHow was your ride?ā
āSpectacular!ā
She stares at me for a second, and then says in a rather dour tone of voice, her eyes narrowing a tiny bit, āI couldnāt help but notice that your partner returned not long after you beganā¦ā
I am taken aback. Slap! The first two people I meet are angry with me. Seriously, I canāt help it if he was insulted out there. I wonder, was it my dismissal of this latest overture on his part toā¦how did he put it? Be my friend? Iāve read right through his real intentions from the start. Maybe the comment I made about him and Frank? That ticked him off, I know. I wasnāt suggesting anything other than, āGo make friends with someone else.ā I might have said, āGo make friends with Michael,ā but that would really have been an obvious no, no. It just wasnāt what I meant. The way he must have taken it.
Maybe Matthew will finally give up.
āHe, uhā¦I think his leg hurt. Or something,ā I say. I donāt think that works, and so I follow. āWhat did he say?ā
Gertie sets the spoon aside, and then looks at me hard. āNot much, dear. He grumbled something as he stormed through here about cats and horses andā¦you. I didnāt catch much of it, and he didnāt stop to talk. Just went on to the stairs.ā
Gertie hesitates.
āI donāt think it was his injured leg. What did happen out there that so upset him? Heās such a nice man. Donāt you think he is?ā
I know what sheās really thinking. Heās such a nice man, and youāre such a pretty girlā¦
āI think heās very charming, and very talented.ā Lie. āBut honestly, this morning I just wanted to be alone. I think that offended him. Thatās all.ā
āOh. Well, yes. Far be it from me to meddle, dear, but perhaps you should go talk to him and explain?ā
She canāt be serious! Why on earth should I? Iām not chasing him, heās chasing me!
āHeās hurt, darling. I mean his feelings, not so much his leg,ā she continues.
Tough luck!ā¦Groan. There it goes again. Those Catholic feelings of guilt. He was casual, not overlyā¦Okay, okay, okay, I smacked him. Maybe I shouldnāt have. Now I smack myself.
I sigh. āI suppose I could.ā
āThat would be so nice of you.ā She smiles. All better, now. She turns, picks up the spoon and starts to stir the kettle of soup, and then picks up her humming where she left off when I scared her half to death. Damn, I should have just kept my mouth shut out there and endured him.
I leave Mother Gertie at the stove and make my way to the stairs. I look up the run of steps, wondering what I should say to him? If I say, āIām so sorry, Matthew. Forgive my rudeness,ā Iām pretty certain heāll take that as an invitation toā¦Oh screw it, Iāll just say Iām sorry, and leave it at that.
I go to the second floor, and then walk to his closed door. I listen for a second or two. Itās as quiet as a church at midnight inside. Whatever. I rap on the door once, and then wait.
Why am I doing this?
Four or five seconds pass, and then the door swings inward. At first Matthewās face is stony, but the second he notices me he forces a tiny wisp of a smile. Then back to stony.
I simply say, āIām sorry.ā
I Don't Feel...Matthew
There she stands, right outside my door, and she just said, āIām sorry.ā
I suppose I should feel victorious. Vindicated at the very least. But I feel neither of those two things. Actually, I feel a little overwhelmed, and a lot euphoric.
It takes me forever to reply. What I say surprises me.
āPerhaps itās me that should
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