Olive Branches Don't Grow on Trees by Grace Mattioli

Author:Grace Mattioli [Mattioli, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Humour
ISBN: 9781478313168
Amazon: B008JNU97Y
Barnesnoble: B008JNU97Y
Goodreads: 13631313
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

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Not surprisingly, the image of Frank lying face down on the kitchen floor stayed with her all through the next day. She was glad that it was a short day at work and that Melesha would be coming in early. As soon as she got out of the mall parking lot, she gassed up her car, got on the Garden State Parkway, and drove south. She knew she was heading to one of the shore towns on the coast, but not sure which one. She could have stopped at Ventor, but it was too close to Atlantic City, and she wanted to be nowhere near that frenzied casino energy. She could have stopped in Ocean City, one of the last dry towns left in the country. It was clean and easy, with a boardwalk that stretched for miles. Or Sea Isle City. But none were far enough. Not only did she want to be far away from Frank’s house and the image of him lying on the kitchen floor, there was something else.

She felt hungry for the road. She felt that she wanted to drive and drive and drive. She wanted to remember, in her bones, that same feeling she had during all of her road trips. During all of these long distance driving adventures, she felt strong, especially because she had done most of them alone. She could change a tire on the side of the highway alone. She could set up a campsite alone. When it was raining or too cold to sleep outside, she could check into a motel alone. When she remembered her times on the road, she felt that strength within herself and really loved being who she was.

So she drove until she could not drive any further within the state of New Jersey. She went until she reached Cape May, the most southern point of the state and the only place in New Jersey where she could see an unobstructed view of the sunset. As she approached the town, she caught sight of a white heron with its little beak pointed up to the sky, its skinny legs dangling in the air, and its delicate angel wings spread free. Whenever she saw images that touched her, she would make an imprint in her brain to carry it with her always.

She drove over a bridge, entered into the town harbor, and followed the signs to the beach. It was a weekday before the busy summer season, so the quaint little Victorian house-filled city was not terribly crowded. She parked only a couple of blocks from the beach, and stopped by a pizza stand to grab a slice that she took with her to the boardwalk. She sat on a bench and ate, as seagulls gathered around her waiting for her to throw them a crumb. One brazen gull came and stood on the bench right beside her as if threatening to take her food away. It caused her to eat so quickly that she got indigestion.

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