Read My Dearest Friend for Free Online

short white terry-cloth robe, her long bare legs stretched out in front of her. She had been soaking in the sun, and, perhaps, the silence, before he broke it. His breathing sounded like roaring in his ears. He supposed he was trespassing. In any case, he couldn’t just turn around and jog away; it would be rude. It would look strange.
    “Oh, hi, sorry!” he said, coming just a little closer to her, jogging in place. “I didn’t know anyone was here yet. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
    “That’s all right,” she said, smiling. “You gave me just the shot of adrenaline I need to start the day. I didn’t know anyone lived around here.” She had short dark hair, large blue eyes, and freckles. Freckles all over, from what he could see.
    “I’m Jack Hamilton,” he said, and stopped jogging. Breathing deeply, he walked toward her, holding out his hand. “My wife and daughter and I just moved into the A-frame down the road. You have to pass it to get here.”
    “Oh, wonderful!” she said, shaking his hand. As she reached forward, her loosely tied robe fell open slightly so that he couldn’t help but see a great deal of her heavy, swinging, plump, and freckled breasts. “I’m Daphne Miller. I’m moving in today. My furniture’s coming up this morning. I was just having coffee, enjoying a few more moments of peace before the madness hits. Would you like some coffee?”
    She gestured toward the Styrofoam cup next to her on the step, and he realized the wonderful rich dark smell he had been unconsciously enjoying was coffee. Brewed coffee. Carey Ann didn’t like coffee; didn’t drink it. She would get up in the morning andpour herself a tall glass of warm diet cola, without ice, or, if it was winter, she’d put a spoonful of instant-iced-tea mix in a mug and stir hot tap water into it, making a lukewarm murky brew. He used to think the sight of her doing that, drinking that stuff, was surely one of the things people got divorced over. But now he knew that was nothing; there were much more serious matters.
    He shouldn’t drink coffee now, in the middle of a run. On the other hand, he’d interrupted his run already and it wouldn’t be polite for him to take off again right now. He’d walk back to his house.
    “That would be really nice,” he said.
    Daphne Miller smiled and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Cream, sugar?”
    “Black,” he replied. Her robe came only to the top of her thighs. She was as tall as he was. Her limbs were not fat, but they were full, and so white, with a sprinkling of freckles. Cream. Sugar. His mother used to cook a heavy white candy that she called divinity; he could sink his teeth into a piece and it was as substantial against his teeth, for a moment, as dough; then it would dissolve, filling his mouth with an explosion of sugary sweetness. My God, why was he thinking of that?
    The woman went in the house, came back out with a cup of steaming coffee. She handed it to him and they sat down together on the step.
    “It’s beautiful here,” he said, looking around.
    “Yes,” she replied. “So peaceful. It will be a great change from the college.”
    “You’re at the college?” he asked.
    “I’m a secretary,” she said. “For the history department.”
    “Well, maybe I’ll run into you there,” Jack said. “I’m going to teach there. In the English department. This is my first year.”
    Daphne smiled. “We’re bound to run into each other. The English and history offices are in the same building, on the same floor. We even share”—she lowered her voice dramatically—“the same Xerox machine. Quite intimate, you see. And your wife? Does she teach too?”
    “Oh, no. Alexandra—our daughter—is only two years old. Carey Ann wants to stay home and take care of her. Carey Ann’s from Kansas. We just moved here. I … hope she won’t be lonely. She doesn’t know anyone here,” he heard himself confessing.
    “Oh, there are
lots
of