Raquel's Abel Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked on the island, the countertops, then on the floor. Where could it be?
    “Maria Elena,” I hollered. “I left my list here and now I can’t find it.” I opened the trashcan and moved the contents around a little bit. “I still can’t find it,” I screamed louder.
    “Wait, Señorita Raquel, Marcio’s wife is about to find out,” she called from the TV room. Grandmother was upstairs taking a nap, so Maria Elena was watching her soap operas again.
    “I don’t care about your Peyton Place. I’m looking for my list to make sure I do the right things before surgery.”
    Maria Elena came sulking into the kitchen and glanced around. “I no see it.”
    “I had it right here and I didn’t move it.” It had explicit instructions about what clear liquids I could consume and when.
    “Maybe the door was opening and the wind blew it out?” She went outside and began to look around on the patio. “Here. I see a piece of paper right here.” She picked it up and unfolded it.
    I grabbed it out of her hand and felt the slickness of moist paper. “It’s gotten wet.” Odd, it hadn’t rained all day.
    “ Si, Señorita , I can’t even reading anything.”
    “How could this have happened?”
    “ Ay, Madre de Dios .” Maria Elena crossed herself. “It’s the ghost. In my country, there an old abandoned mine not far from my parent’s house. The Spanish killing many Indians there, and if you going by there at night,” she waved her hand up and down, “you hearing the Indians screaming.”
    “Did you actually hear them yourself?”
    Her pupils moved around in circles. “Well, no, but many people told me.” She nodded her head emphatically. “But your paper…” She pointed to the illegible, crumpled-up wad.
    “No problem. I’ll just call the doctor’s office and get the information.”
    “Sure, you doing that. You will be more skinny like movie star.”
    I dialed the doctor’s office and got the instructions. This time I stuck it in the pocket of a big muumuu I wore around the house. As soon as this fat began to melt away, I’d buy no more loose-fitting stuff. I’d buy slinky things that hugged my new form.
    I hadn’t eaten anything all day in preparation for the surgery and I was feeling weak. I decided to go upstairs and lay down. My head hit the pillow and I let my mind fill with pleasant thoughts—walking daintily in high heels and being able to sit on any chair, not just the ones that looked sturdy or wide enough.
    I sank deeper into my pleasant dream.
    “Mademoiselle Raquel,” he said overemphasizing the rhyme. “You are a vision of loveliness.”
    The meadow was foggy around the edges, but I could see miles of carpety soft grass. Beside me walked a soldier with a metal helmet, jodhpurs, and a button-down coat.
    “At your service, Ma’am,” he said crisply as he gave me a military salute.
    I skipped across the damp lawn, enjoying moving quickly without my extra two hundred pounds accompanying me.
    The soldier faced me, running backwards, holding his helmet over his eyes.
    I ran faster, liking the cool breeze on my face. My lungs filled and emptied easily. This is the way my life would be without all the flab.
    The man removed his helmet and looked at me with those deep brown eyes. “I like you the way you are.”
    “The way I am,” I repeated. My weight crippled my legs and soon I was rolling across the green grass, damp blades cruelly slapping my face.
    I opened my eyes. It had been a dream. Of course it was a dream. But it was the same man. Abel Rollins.
    Maybe it was just nerves about having the operation. That’s it. I was apprehensive and my subconscious was dealing with it this way.
    I patted the pocket of my muumuu. Nothing crinkled. Where was the list? I dug my hand down in the fabric. I looked around on the bed. It could have fallen out while I was sleeping. Yes, I had been tossing and turning and it must have slipped out. It had to be here. I ran my hands all around the