A Seahorse in the Thames Read Online Free PDF

told Mr. Handsome Tool-belt. I didn’t even know his name yet.
    “Oh,” he said, letting his arm fall back. He reached down for the paper that was laying a few inches off my front path and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
    I reached for it with the arm that wasn’t in spasms of pain. “Thanks,” I said, looking at the paper, not at him.
    “I’m afraid I am going to be making lots of noise today. I apologize.”
    Surprise made me look up into his face. “What?”
    “Your landlady hired me to make a lot of noise today. I’m really sorry. You were probably hoping to get some rest.”
    I remembered then. I remembered Rose calling me and Serafina and Jorge last week telling us this would be happening. Patrick was supposed to tell us earlier but he had not.
    “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”
    “Can I help you get inside?”
    It had been a long time since I had been in the company of a man as chivalrous as Stephen was. I realized I see way too much of Patrick, even though I try not to pay any attention to him.
    “No, thanks,” I said, and I think my voice and eyes betrayed how touched I was by his thoughtfulness.
    He smiled at me. “I am Stephen Moran,” he said, thrusting out his hand. “Stephen Moran the Handyman.” And he laughed.
    I took the outstretched hand with my left and he squeezed it.
    “Alexa. Alexa Poole,” I replied.
    “Nice to meet you, Alexa.” He started to turn away and then turned back. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
    I nodded.” Nothing that a little orange juice and codeine can’t fix.” I said it to be casual and funny but it sounded like I was condoning substance abuse.
    He smiled, but I know he watched me make my way slowly back up to my apartment. When I got inside I threw the unopened paper on the couch, filled a glass of orange juice and popped two pain pills into my mouth. I lay back down and slept away the rest of the morning, despite the loud noises outside.
    I never did open that paper to read it.
    Later that afternoon, I felt well enough to sit outside on my porch. I took a book with me and a glass of lemonade. I’d just sat down on my wicker chair when Stephen came around the corner with a crowbar and some other wicked-looking tool.
    “Alexa. Hello.” He seemed startled to see me. He stopped at the railing to the porch.
    “Hello,” I said.
    He looked at my book and my glass of lemonade.
    “Feeling okay?”
    “Yes. Thanks.”
    He paused.
    “Going to read for a while?”
    Well, it seemed kind of obvious to me I was planning on reading. “Yeah, thought I would.”
    “Oh.”
    He didn’t move away from the railing. “Is something the matter?” I said.
    “Oh. I just… I just told Mrs. Marvelle I would start on the porch this afternoon.”
    Of course. The porch. I felt very stupid.
    “Oh, I am sorry. I’m in your way,” I started to get up, wincing a little as I rose.
    “No, please, don’t get up!” He took a step toward me. “It can wait.”
    “Don’t be silly. This is why you’re here.”
    “You’re not in my way, actually. Not yet, anyway.” He stepped onto the porch itself.” It’s these boards between your place and the place next door that need to be replaced. You don’t have to move, but it might be distracting if you are trying to read.”
    He looked at me in a kind way, so ready to accommodate me. It was already starting to grow on me, this way he had of dealing with people. Of dealing with me.
    I stayed.
    I didn’t read.
    Instead Stephen asked me about my job, where I am from, if I had family here. That first day I told him the short version: I told him where I worked, that I had been born right here in San Diego, that my parents were divorced and that I had two sisters; one of them my twin. Then I asked him about his family, his life. And that’s when he told me he was born in Santa Cruz, that he is thirty-two, that he loves to surf, that his mother lives in Riverside now and that he is an only child.
    I asked him