CATHEDRAL - Patrick Sean Lee (best books for 8th graders txt) 📗
- Author: Patrick Sean Lee
Book online «CATHEDRAL - Patrick Sean Lee (best books for 8th graders txt) 📗». Author Patrick Sean Lee
I let the curtain fall and then move across the rag carpet to the bathroom to begin another day. In the refreshing heat of the water whistling down on me, I flash to Brad back home. He’s certainly sleeping still. My next thought bounces into my head. The image of Matthew the Klutz cartwheeling down the mountainside into the freezing waters of my lake. The look in his eyes after I triumphantly uttered “Checkmate.”
I wish there were other people staying in Mr. Davenport’s charming lodge right now. Like a couple or two slightly more near-to-center than Frank and Michael. Maybe a wife who I could talk to about her place in life. Or mine—with lots of little fabrications that of course make it seem uneventful, but full.
Matthew. Almost normal. Other than being famous, for reasons that astound me, he is…stop! Rinse, dry off, and then get dressed.
Why did they have to put him in the room directly across from mine? Is he standing just outside my door with his ear pressed against the wood panels?
No, he’s not perverted, just overly-interested. Over there doing whatever he’s doing. Thinking whatever it is he is probably thinking…
SHUT-UP-HEAD!
I finish dressing. Levis and a clean, white blouse. A warm sweater in preparation for the ride I hope I can take later. Alone. I move to the door, crack it open and whisk my eyes up and down the hall, letting my gaze stop for a second at the door across the dimly lit hall.
He’s probably still sleeping. I close the door quietly and wait until it’s time to walk downstairs to the dining room.
It’s seven-fifteen. I’m the first to enter the dining room. Passing by Frank and Michael’s suite I focused my ears, but they were silent. I had thoughts…embarrassing images of them. Guess I’m the perverted one. But then really, what’s so strange about two people being in love and…?
I take my seat. The door swings inward and Mr. Davenport limps/walks in. He sees me sitting and immediately breaks into a big smile.
“Good morning Isabella. What’s on tap for my little girl today? Another hike up the mountain to the lake?”
“Gee, Mr. Davenport…” I hesitate. “I was thinking that I’d like to ride this morning. If it’s okay with you and Charlie, that is. I saw a gray horse out in the paddock when I woke up. Is it possible?”
“That would be Shadow. She’s a fine old mare, gentle as they come. You enjoy your breakfast, and when you’re ready, I’ll have Charlie saddle her up and bring her out for you.”
“Is Shadow your only horse?” I ask.
“Blazes no! We have three others, Fire, Tucumcari, and Excalibur—he’s the spit and fire stallion. You don’t want to get onto him.” He laughs his barrel laugh.
Quickly—I can hear Michael beginning his morning serenade of little inanities down the hall at the stairs. “Mr. Davenport, there are ten rooms upstairs. Would it be out of line to ask you why you put Mr. Ash in the one right across from mine?”
His face breaks into an impish grin. He eyes me for a second. They’ll be here in a heartbeat. Hurry, Mr. Davenport.
“Well, we could have put you in Suite 1 across from Frank’s and Michael’s room.” He chuckles.
“Oh my. Thank you, but I guess the question is, why did you put Mr. Ash right across from me?”
Michael comes blasting through the door. Jack, the super-friendly cat scatters. Mr. Davenport merely smiles.
“Gooood morning you two!” Michael screeches. He sachets in his garish orange jumpsuit across the polished floor, and then plops down across from me. Thanks, Michael. He is wearing purple eyeliner. Too thickly applied. He looks like an inmate who has broken out of jail. Frank follows, as he usually does, smiles at me, and then takes his seat next to Michael of Sunnybrook Farm Prison.
“Did you sleep well, sweetie?” Michael.
I reply cordially, “Yes, thank you. And you?"
Oops. wrong question.
Frank says nothing. I know he’s waiting for some outlandishly explicit comment from Michael concerning their night to come roaring out. His eyes are bleary. Like sleep deprivation bleary.
Mrs. Davenport is next, carrying a large white platter of scrambled eggs and bacon in her right hand, an equally large bowl of steaming oatmeal in the other. She waddles across the floor, glares almost imperceptibly at Michael, who is certainly ramping up for an outrageous outburst. She sets the dishes in the middle of the long table between Michael and me.
“Good morning, Isabella. Frank.” She hesitates, coldly. “Michael.”
“Darlin’,” Mr. Davenport says, “little Isabella wants to ride Shadow after breakfast! Have you seen Charlie yet this morning?”
“Not yet…” she begins. Michael cuts her off.
“Oooh!” He launches into a salvo about how he would just faint with delight at the prospect of joining me. On a very tame horse, of course.
Thanks Mr. Davenport.
“Maybe on Excalibur?” I say to Mr. Davenport, smiling at the thought of Michael trying to mount him, or even getting near him.
“That would be interesting,” he replies. He shifts his eyes. “Michael, the horses are very spirited, especially Excalibur.”
This gives Michael pause. He turns to Frank.
“Honey, maybe we can ride doublies? Me in the back, you know?”
“We’ll see,” Frank says, rescuing me, and for sure rescuing Michael from a ride on a tornado. "We did have other plans, remember?"
Matthew strides through the door just as Frank is finishing up his very highly implied, you are NOT going to try getting onto a horse!
He’s limping. Slightly. He is smiling, though. He’s all brushed out, clean and sparkling, and he is wearing light slacks, and a gray sweater that is way too light for a gallop through the forest. Good.
He takes a seat right next to me, and then greets me in a pleasant, not what shall we do today, Isabella? voice.
"Hi."
“Good morning, Mr. Ash. How is the leg this morning?”
Jack has calmed down. He skirts under the table, and then boldly jumps up into Matthew’s lap the second he seats himself. Matthew reacts in horror, sort of. His eyes grow wide as he shoots them down at the animal, and in a heartbeat, tosses him onto the floor. Jack skitters away. Matthew glances at me.
“I don’t care for cats,” he grunts.
I happen to love felines. He must see that I’m a bit put off by his action and the nasty comment concerning old Jack.
“I had one in my lap…way back when I was a kid. The damned thing raised its head, looked up at me, jiggling his tail like a rattlesnake ready to strike, and then peed in my lap. I never let one of those disgusting animals near me again.”
Frank laughs. Michael smiles his gooey smile, and then pats his leg and calls for Jack.
Matthew scopes out the goodies. I can see that his eyes hesitate longingly on the platter of bacon and eggs for a second, but then he shifts his gaze to the bowl of oatmeal. He doesn’t think I see him flash his eyes at me. He reaches for the bowl, lifts it, and offers its contents to me. Such a gentlemanly gesture.
“Thank you.”
“I have some writing to do today,” he comments almost nonchalantly. Good, I think, have at it.
“What’s on tap for you today?” he follows, equally nonchalantly.
Was that comment directed at Frank…or Michael? Of course not. He’s looking directly at me. No, he couldn’t possibly ride a horse. Could he?
“I’m going to ride today. Alone.”
“Oh. And afterward?”
I grow my mean attitude at that.
“Why do you ask? Sorry. Probably shower and then perhaps go for a walk. Read a book.”
Uh-oh, wrong thing to say. Don’t get your hopes up, Matthew Ash. It won't be yours.
“Ah.”
“Lovey and I will be going down to Denver, won’t we sweetie?” Michael chirps.
“That's what we planned,” Frank says. "Or you planned."
We finish breakfast. I stand and leave the dining room without a word, except to tell Frank and Michael to have a great day. I’m from Southern California, right? We all say that even if we don’t really mean it. I exit the rear door and walk to the paddock. Charlie is waiting, holding Shadow by the reins. She’s all saddled, and so I thank him and then put my left foot into the stirrup and swing up onto her back.
Why did I think he wouldn’t follow? Matthew is leaving the kitchen, carefully negotiating each of the three old wooden steps. I shake my head. What presumption!
Matthew hobbles over to Shadow and puts his hand on her nose. He looks up at me.
“I’ve changed my schedule just a little. What would you say if I joined you? It’s always nice to have a little company as you ride.”
“I’d say you don’t listen very well, Mr. Ash. I said I’d be riding alone…and you’re obviously not in any shape to even try getting onto a horse.”
Charlie casually breaks in. “I could have one of the other horses saddled in two minutes.”
“I don’t think so, Charlie.”
With that I give Shadow a gentle kick in her sides, and we move off toward a gentle trail behind the stable. At the corner of the paddock I pull back on the reins. Shoot, why not?
I turn my head. Matthew is simply staring at me. Charlie is staring at him.
“Okay, you can come along if you must.”
I’ll kick myself for having said that within twenty minutes.
On The TrailMatthew
Thank God I don’t have to walk. My knee aches, but I have to do what I have to do. Let me rephrase that. What I want to do. Isabella is gorgeous this morning.
I don’t like cats, and I’m only just a little fonder of horses. They frighten me. I won’t breathe a word of that to Isabella, however.
Charlie was wrong. It took him all of four minutes to race into the barn and bring a horse back out for me. A red one named Fire, all saddled up and ready to go. He even helps me get onto the beast. Isabella has returned and sits staring down at us from her saddle as Charlie tries to help me lift my gimpy leg and hoist myself up—without trying to stick my foot in the stirrup.
“She’s gentle,” he says once I’m pretty much all comfortable and not wincing anymore. “Not a bit barn sour either. You know how to ride, Mr. Ash?”
Of course I do. Giddyap. Whoa. Turn right. Turn left. Okay, just move the reins. I've seen Bonanza.
“I’ll be fine,” I say confidently.
“Good then. Be off with you two. Enjoy your ride.” After he says this, he winks up at me and mouths, She’s a real pretty lady.
I smile. No need to remind me, Charlie my man.
Isabella has this look on her face when I glance over at her, smiling. She shakes her head, smiling too…a little meanish-looking smile at me. She turns then after she’s said what she didn’t say, and moves the reins a tweak, makes a little clicking sound with her mouth, and
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