Read Red Ruby Heart in a Cold Blue Sea (9781101559833) for Free Online

Grand’s kitchen drew us in the finest way. She sent me out for cucumbers from the garden and I sliced them up into a red ruby bowl and covered them with cider vinegar and salt and pepper.
    I told the story of the money and Daddy said that the day had been good on the water. Grand told Daddy that I might be a decent baker if I put my heart into it, and soon after supper, we went home. Later that night, Daddy and I sat in the living room, him watching a Red Sox game and me reading a Trixie Belden book until my eyelids drooped and I went to bed. I was dreaming that I had fallen into a bowl of slimy bread dough and couldn’t get out, when I heard Daddy say, “What the hell did you do?”
    â€œI fell into this bowl,” I told him, before I figured that he was talking outside of my dream. I opened my eyes. The Mickey Mouse clock beside my bed said one o’clock.
    â€œI liked your hair,” Daddy said. “Why’d you change it?”
    â€œFor the fun of it,” Carlie said. “Don’t you understand fun? Let me answer that. Nope.” The refrigerator door opened. “Nothing to eat?” she said. “Doesn’t the woman of the house ever shop?” She sounded as if she was talking through heavy syrup.
    â€œYou drunk as you appear to be?” Daddy said.
    â€œProbably, but mostly hungry. Suppose Grand would mind if I raided her fridge?”
    â€œI can’t get over your hair. I liked it red, just fine,” Daddy said.
    â€œIt’s there, for heaven’s sake,” Carlie snapped. “It’s just covered up.”
    I opened my bedroom door and looked into the kitchen. Carlie stood in front of the refrigerator door with a jar of mayonnaise in her hand. She stuck a finger full of it into her mouth and smiled at me. “Hey sweetie!” she called, and her voice turned up at the corners. “What you doing up?”
    Carlie’s hair was as blond as Marilyn Monroe’s. The curl was gone and it was straight as meadow grass, except for a little flip at the ends. She’d gone heavy on the green eye shadow and spread bright red lipstick on her bow mouth.
    She put the mayonnaise jar back in the refrigerator. “So, what do you think, Florine? Some of us did our hair. You should see Patty. Her hair is redder than mine.”
    â€œIt’s different,” I said. Her shoulders slumped, so I added, “But I like it.” She came over and hugged me. She smelled like beer and cigarettes.
    â€œMaybe you can get your father to like it,” she said.
    â€œIt ain’t that I don’t like it,” Daddy said. “It’s that you didn’t let me know beforehand.” Carlie broke our hug at the sad sound of his voice. He walked into their bedroom and shut the door.
    â€œOh, Leeman,” Carlie said, but so soft he couldn’t have heard her. Her eyes filled with tears and she stepped over to the kitchen counter to find something to blow her nose on. She reached into the junk drawer and came up with a napkin from the Shack.
    â€œGo to bed, Florine. I have to talk to your father,” she said.
    She walked into their bedroom. I went back to bed and listened to a low murmur from her, an occasional grunt from him. Then the sounds stopped and I went to sleep.
    In the morning, after Daddy had gone out on the water, I came out of my bedroom to find Carlie slumped at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of coffee. Her new blond hair was bed-messed and hung down over her shoulders, limp and pale. I touched it, and it was soft. I stroked it from top to tip and back again.
    â€œIt’s nice,” I said. “Takes some getting used to, but it’s pretty.”
    â€œYour father is upset with me,” she said in a hoarse crow’s voice.
    â€œCan I have some coffee?”
    â€œLots of milk,” she said. I rolled my eyes. Surely I was old enough to drink regular coffee, but I settled for fixing a glass of milk with