clean when she pulled it up atop her head.
But she never did that, except on Saturday when she made an unbraided
ponytail while she read.
There was her scar. She called it Amy’s
scar. A full six inches long, it was an inch wide right across
an otherwise perfect belly. Everybody had something, well almost
everybody. If you were lucky it was only flat feet. But Maria
wore her scar with gratitude. She was thankful that she had been
there to collect it. One-piece bathing suits were out and she
was a tad shy about the scar when it came to men.
Maria’s mind craved new ideas
and new ways of thinking. She was like a walking investment bank
for creative thought. Stubbornness was the other side of that
equation, and she had not yet learned to tolerate ideas that challenged
her fundamental beliefs. In truth she had only a handful of fundamental
beliefs: that she should practice yoga; that she should save old-growth
forests; that her mother was inherently wise and good and to whatever
extent she might fail in that regard it was probably due to her
father; that she should be doing unto others what she would have
them do unto her except when she lost her temper; that anything
worth doing was worth doing passionately; that
children were sacred trusts. And she believed
fervently in love but wasn’t sure she’d ever find
it.
Certainly the man before her was puzzling
and had aroused a heated curiosity about two basic issues: Did
he want to save the planet—more specifically the trees?
And did he look as good naked as he did clothed?
As he watched the waitress leave,
there seemed a sadness about him. It was a peculiar contrast to
the square-jawed maleness that he exuded.
He caught her noticing him. “You
wanna have coffee sometime?”
“No,” she said. “Not
exactly. I mean maybe if we weren’t so, well opposite. We’re
just about as opposite as two people can be.”
He nodded and she could see the sincerity
in his eyes. She pondered that one. Something about this man really
did remind her of someone—her father—the way he used
to lavish attention upon her before their great falling out and
her migration, as she called it, to Alaska. Old feelings
