Derrolyn Anderson - [Marinas Tales #1] - Between The Land And The Sea Read Online Free PDF Page A

woes.
    The kitchen opened up to a small living room with a picture window facing out on a riot of flowers in the front garden. There was a comfortable looking denim couch and a small television set perched on a stack of old leather suitcases. A couple of rolled up yoga mats were leaning in the corner, along with several brightly colored bean bag chairs. A rag rug scattered with cat toys softened the hardwood floor. One whole wall was devoted to a brick and board bookshelf, sagging with the weight of hundreds of books. The room had the kind of homey, lived-in feeling that my San Francisco apartment lacked.
    I took my new keys, packed a tote bag with some art supplies and set out for a walk on the beach. This time I found the stairway easily and made my way down quickly. As I descended, I scanned the empty stretch of sand.
    “Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh no...”

    I looked around for the source of the distressed voice. A very small, extremely old woman seemed to be having a panic attack at the bottom of the stairs. She was pacing back and forth at the base of the bluff, looking up into some large clumps of pampas grass that clung precariously to the cliff-side.
    “Are you alright?” I asked her as I neared the sand, “Can I help?” She looked up at me with panicked eyes, “I can’t find my Freddy...”
    “Freddy?” I asked, thinking she must have lost a dog, “What does he look like?”
    “Oh dear...” she drifted off. She was dressed in an odd assortment of clothes that looked like they might have been selected randomly in the dark. Yellow rubber rain boots were topped off with what looked like a square-dancing skirt and a thick knobby sweater. She wore an odd crocheted hat that had panels of what looked like aluminum cans knitted into it. I would have taken her for a homeless person if she were anywhere near a shopping cart.
    A little tabby cat poked his head out from under the landing midway up the stairs.
    “Is that him?” I asked, pointing up at the cat. Her wide relieved smile told me it was.
    “Oh, thank you sweetie,” she said as she extended her hand, “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be.” When I shook her hand she leaned closer to peer at me, “I’m Stella... I take care of the little wild ones.”
    “I’m Marina,” I replied, and looked up to see Freddy slink out and pick his way towards us tentatively. His ears were tattered and his ratty tail was bent at an unnatural angle. Movement in the grass caught my eye and I spotted a couple more small thin cats watching us intently as they inched closer.
    Stella pulled out a bag of cat food and poured out several piles onto the grass, motioning for me to back up with her. The fearful little cats edged over to the food, keeping their eyes on us and gulping it down as fast as they could.
    She looked up at me again, “I know you... Where have you been?”
    “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” I said gently, “I just moved here yesterday.” Stella’s eyes clouded over as slipped away into a distant memory, “We used to dance on the ship... the music– oh, the music was so wonderful,” she looked out towards the decrepit cement boat.
    “On that ship?” I asked skeptically.
    “Oh, yesiree my dear!” she said emphatically.

    The fog behind her eyes seemed to lift as she described how the S.S. Palo Alto was towed to Aptos to become an amusement destination during prohibition. It had a dance pavilion where big bands used to play, and the pier leading up to it once housed restaurants and arcade games. There was even a heated swimming pool on one of the lower decks. Looking at the battered carcass of the old tanker it was hard to imagine, but I couldn’t doubt her as she spoke nostalgically of the glorious times she had enjoyed.
    “It only lasted a couple of years before they went bust. Us young girls used to sneak in...
    We’d dance and dance with all the swells that came down from the city.” She heaved a sigh, “It was the cat’s