Margaret's Ark Read Online Free PDF Page A

When the light changed again, Margaret moved forward. She got half-way through the intersection when the car behind her, a dented white Camaro veered around her. Margaret almost rear-ended it. Another car worked its way around. This time Margaret followed.
    She needed to get back to the sanity of the school.
    By the time she pulled into the teacher's lot, someone else had called to talk about their “flood dream.” She left the engine running and stared at the radio. They were calling from Carmel-by-the-Sea, seventy miles southwest of her. With some exceptions, the dream was the same. Delivered by an angel named “Shirley”. After substantially more abuse from the host for not coming up with a more divine name, the call was disconnected.
    Commercials. Margaret turned off the engine. Her hands were shaking. In the silence that followed, she sobbed once but pushed it down. This wasn’t true. She was hearing it wrong. She sat in silence, not caring if Katie’s practice might be over. She stared at the dark radio, the shaking of her entire body which she’d only begun to notice finally slowing, calming.
    It was only a dream. It was only a dream.
    “Mrs. Carboneau?”
    She shouted in surprise, twisted in her seat.
    A tall, handsome boy stood outside the open driver's window. Jeans and a denim shirt with cut-off sleeves. Carl Jorgenson already sported the beginnings of his usual California surfer's tan and sun-bleached hair.
    Margaret looked away and wiped her face.
    “Oh, Carl. Sorry. You surprised me.”
    “You looked kind of upset.” He turned away himself and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “You've been crying.” He was a smart kid, but his mannerisms always struck her as too simplistic, constantly teetering at the edge of adulthood.
    She tried to smile. It didn’t work. “No, no. Allergies are starting up, that's all. What are you still doing here?”
    Carl hesitated, looking around as if trying to remember something. “Oh, baseball practice. Mr. Z's been pushing the seniors pretty hard, thinks we’re slacking off, taking away....”
    Margaret got out of the car before he could finish. Carl got the message and shut up. “You coming to get the girls?”
    She began to walk. Carl followed a pace behind. “You want me to go with you? Are you sure you're okay?”
    Margaret stopped, turned towards him. “I'm fine. Well, no, I'm not, but it's personal. I'd like to be alone.”
    He looked relieved. Nodding and turning back towards the few cars remaining in the student lot he said, “No problem, Mrs. C. I hope everything gets better.”
    Margaret continued alone towards the athletic fields, looking at the sky. No clouds. No sign of rain. Just a dream. I don’t need to build anything . Just a stupid dream.
     
     
     
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    “Marty! It’s great to see you --” she almost added again but caught herself. The first time hadn’t actually happened. “Come in; come in.” Margaret opened the front screen door for him. Marty Santos nodded a silent greeting and stepped in. The fire chief looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His clothes were wrinkled. He looked at her with red-rimmed eyes and smiled.
    “Hey, Maggie,” he said. “How've you been? I'm not interrupting dinner, am I?”
    “No, not at all. We just finished.” She motioned to the couch then sat herself in an adjacent chair. “Marty, if you don’t mind me saying, you look terrible.”
    He laughed – a short, sad sound, then craned his neck to see into the family room. Katie lay on the floor next to her sister in front of the television. The two girls whispered to each other, now and then looking into the living room. Marty lowered his voice.
    “Maggie, I hate to bother you, but something's been nagging at me and I need to ask you a question. Please understand....” He paused, one hand moving over the other in constant motion.
    If Margaret didn't know him better, she’d think he was about to propose. It probably had something to do