I Was Amelia Earhart (Vintage Contemporaries) Read Online Free Page B

picks up his glasses gently. Don’t do that, he says. Really, you shouldn’t have done that. I just bought these, they weren’t cheap.
    I thought you already had a pair of glasses.
    I sat on them on the way here.
    You sat on them.
    He looks up at me and lets his arms hang down in a position of supplicant helplessness.
    You sat on them, this time exasperated but yielding. What the hell am I going to do with you?
    He blows the dust off his glasses and brushes the dust off the front of his pants. He takes the handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes his face and neck and then he folds the handkerchief again and puts it back in his pocket. He looks at her, looks into her eyes.
    Then he says: Take me around the world.
    That night she and G.P. are invited to a party at the home of a Miami businessman. On the way there, G.P. says something about Noonan just showing up like that and she asks him to open his window. The night is warm and fruity, and as they turn onto a narrow road a salty ocean smell engulfs them and recedes. The trees alongthe side of the road give way to tall dry bushes and low willowy weeds. The low late sun is caught in the mirror. The sky spreads pink and yellow and orange.
    You know I’ve never wanted to take him, she says.
    But he’s the best, I thought we agreed on that.
    Then why did you have to bring it up?
    Perhaps I’m nervous. I
am
your husband.
    Oh, is that what you are.
    He shuts his window and looks down and pulls on his cuff. I want to talk to you about the
Herald Tribune
. They’re expecting a letter from each location, which, as you know, we’ll use for the book. And I’ve arranged for three calls. The first one from Karachi. We’ll have them recorded. And I’m working on getting us a broadcast from Honolulu. I’d like you to be home by the Fourth of July. When do you think you can get to Honolulu?
    I don’t know. Ask Noonan.
    Amelia, please. Just give me a straight answer.
    It’s getting dark and his face is lit from below with the cool glow of the headlights. Up ahead there’s a gate and a man at the gate and behind him a house in the distance. They’re right next to the ocean now, it’s gray and soft, and louder, always louder than she expects. She looks at the moon, which has just come up.
    It looks like rain, she says.
    He takes off his glasses and looks at her. His dark irises flecked with yellow and green appear to be bleeding into the whites of his eyes. His face folds slightly with age and sadness.
    We’re here, she says.
    They get out.
    A man in uniform takes the keys from her and nods his head and drives the car away. She and G.P. walk up the gravel drive. It is lit with colored paper-covered lanterns. The ground is soft and it crunches with their steps, which are syncopated at first and then in unison.
    We’ll have to leave early so I can get some sleep.
    I know. I’ve already …
    Hello! Miss Earhart, George, so glad to see you. The guest of honor, please, right this way.
    After dinner they walk down to the beach with their drinks and the women take their shoes off. The air is heavy with flowers and salt, and she walks next to Owen, who was at dinner. G.P. is in the house making a telephone call. The businessman and his wife and the rest of the guests are smoking and talking about a picture.
    That one where Kate Hepburn plays a boy.
    You didn’t see it?
    It was just awful.
    Do you like her?
    When she’s all done up, I suppose.
    Was Cary Grant in that?
    Oh, yes, I saw it.
    Their voices mix in and then out of the waves and eventually disappear. She and Owen walk along the flatplateau of sand. The water comes up to their ankles from time to time.
    I heard you dropped the trailing wire, he says. His jacket is dangling from one finger. He’s carrying his shoes in his hand.
    It’s too long. It’s a nuisance.
    Why didn’t you tell me?
    I didn’t think it was important.
    You know it’s important. Your radio’s no good without it. You won’t get enough frequencies.