Deliciously Obedient Read Online Free PDF

talk about their antics, or discuss the
tides and what had washed up on shore that morning. The connection
was what she sought, and at first he found it intrusive. Over time it
became a part of his routine, and now, at the beginning of his third
week here, he was the one seeking the attention, the give and take,
that connection.
    Pete,
on the other hand, was a doer. So were his sons. Chitchat and
conversation came as part of a project, from fixing a fence to
cooking the giant lobster and steak dinner that they held each week,
to pushing an RV out of a mud rut.
    He
liked these people. He liked this life. He could have done with a
bathroom in his own cabin. But by the time he realized what a pain
that was, it was too late. All of the other homes on the campground
were taken. It was high season, Sandy had reminded him, and she was
sorry, but at least the price was right.
    “ Hey,
Mike,” Pete called out as the two men encountered each other. Mike
holding a mug of coffee this morning, Pete carrying some sort of tool
that escaped Mike’s understanding. It looked like a wrench with a
strange head on it and a set of pliers attached. It was the kind of
tool his own father would have known to name, but that Mike couldn’t.
That was part of a different life, one that he hadn’t lived until
this past month.
    “ How’s
it going?” Pete asked.
    Mike
took a sip of coffee and looked up at the blue sky, a spare cloud
here and there, dotting what would otherwise be a clear landscape.
“It’s going well.”
    “ You
making plans for the talent show?”
    He
knew what Pete meant—that was a pointed question asking if he’d
do a skit or an act. “I’m planning to be an active member of the
audience,” Mike said in a measured tone, a hint of a smile
twitching at the corner of his mouth.
    Pete
just shook his head slowly. “There was a time when we had to beat
people off with a stick, and tell ’em that the roster was full up
and it would take two or three years for them to get on stage.
Now”—he shrugged his shoulders—“everyone’s looking at Vines
on their phones and laughing at these little video skits you can find
on YouTube.” He took a long sigh and played with the tool in his
hand, switching it from palm to palm, as if it were a ping-pong ball
and not a twenty-pound piece of metal.
    “ Social
media’s destroyed a lot of things, hasn’t it, Pete?” Mike said
wryly. Pete’s hard stare unnerved Mike. It was the first time he’d
felt anything beyond neighborly chatting, or the down-east Maine
mentality that respected someone until they were proved wrong.
    “ Yes,
that’s true,” Pete said slowly. And then, as if the change hadn’t
happened, his face shifted back to the genial Pete that Mike had
grown accustomed to. “I imagine you’re heading out to go in the
kayaks,” Pete said as he took a step toward his little work shed.
    Mike
held up the mug in a gesture of cheers and then took a long gulp,
emptying it. “Now I am.” Kayaking was a good idea, for it would
help him think. He’d need to clock hundreds of hours paddling,
though, to find any peace inside. That was fine; the luxury of time
spread out before him.
    “ I
hope you’re getting what you wanted out of your vacation here,
Mike,” Pete said. He didn’t make eye contact, just tilted his
chin over his left shoulder.
    As
he walked on, Mike noticed the loping gait of the tall, slim man, in
contrast with the cheerful countenance he generally exhibited. The
word depression, or sadness, didn’t cut it. There was, instead, a
contemplation in Pete this morning. Mike would have to “paddle it
out” to understand what might be going on inside the man. On the
other hand, Mike had plenty of his own issues to figure out. The
month was nearly up, and real life beckoned. For as much as he had
sorted out so many problems when he fled, so many of them had simply
followed him, and the rest? The rest were all waiting behind. But now
that he’d gotten to spend a