The Deep Blue Sea for Beginners Read Online Free PDF Page A

talk about you on this island. You see your grandmother’s face, don’t you?” he asked. “I’ll give you something to chase it right out of your head.”
    “Get your boat off our dock,” Rafe said, standing. Arturo was big, but Rafe was younger and stronger. One thing about rehab, it had started him eating again, putting on muscle. The goodness of those talks with Monica had stayed with him. Working out helped him stay clean, and the idea of whatever they were saying about him made him want to kill Arturo.
    “Portando il nero,” Arturo said, backing away. “That’s good, to wear black. Because you made people mourn. Christina was beloved on Capri. That’s what everyone says.”
    Rafe couldn’t even argue with that. He just stood there, watching his old drug dealer climb into his crummy little boat and putter away. He stared at the wake, white ripples dissolving into nothing.
    “What did he want?” his grandfather asked, coming down the stairs behind him. Rafe didn’t want to turn around, have his grandfather see his face. But he stood out of respect and love.
    “Nothing, Grandpa,” Rafe said.
    “Is he giving you trouble?”
    “No, not really.”
    “Because if he is, I’ll talk to the police, and—”
    “That would make it worse for me,” Rafe said. “Okay, please? You have to trust me.”
    “I want to,” his grandfather said.
    “I know,” Rafe said. They stared at each other a few seconds, tense but trying to get past it.
    “How are the nets?” his grandfather asked, looking at the pile.
    “Pretty much got them mended,” Rafe said. “Nicolas can fish tonight.”
    “Would you like to go with us?”
    Rafe heard the “us,” looked at his grandfather with surprise. “You got up at the crack of dawn, to go to Sorrento,” he said. “I thought you’d want to be asleep early tonight.”
    “Life is short,” his grandfather said. “The less time I spend sleeping, the better.”
    Rafe smiled; he knew his grandfather’s embrace-life philosophy.
    “You could have come with me,” his grandfather said. “To pick up Pell.”
    “I, uh, slept late,” Rafe said. He didn’t want to go into the fact he knew Lyra Davis hated him, wouldn’t want him anywhere near her daughter. Or reveal that he’d been mending nets in the shadows when his grandfather and the girl had arrived, seen her step off the boat.
    Pell had long dark hair, blue eyes; Monica had a black pixie cut, green eyes. But this girl’s beauty and radiance, an intelligent sorrow she wore like a shawl, reminded him so much of the girl he knew he’d never see again. His grandfather was a strange, uncanny mind reader, and Rafe looked away so he wouldn’t show too much.
    Rafe happened to glance up, not at the villa, but the other way, toward Lyra’s cottage. And he saw the girl, Pell, looking down at him, over the terrace wall. Their eyes locked for a minute; he deliberately turned away.
    “I thought you invited them for lunch,” Rafe said. “Lyra and her daughter.”
    “Dinner tomorrow instead,” his grandfather said. “I thought the traveler might need some rest, and to spend time with her mother. And you’re invited too, of course.”
    “Looks as if she’s not resting,” Rafe said, glancing up and meeting her curious gaze again. He felt a shiver go through his bones. He had felt his last chance slipping away. Life, sobriety, hope; Monica had given him the feeling he wanted to live again, to grab onto this opportunity. With her gone, he’d been so alone.
    “Ah,” his grandfather said, following Rafe’s gaze. He saw Pell, smiled and gave her a big wave.
    “She’s like you,” Rafe said. “Likes to be awake.”
    “Life is a gift,” his grandfather said. “Every moment we are here. Fresh, beautiful. Siete buono come il mare.” Good as the sea.
    “Right,” Rafe said, looking up at the pretty girl. He had the feeling she was standing on the brink; that coming here was her own sort of last chance. His heart cracked