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Joe paused, remembering. "When Lovena said 'manta' or 'barracuda, the words weren't just names; they were respectful. A 'bar-ra-cu-da' was important, important as any life." "What happened to her?" "Don't know. I quit. I hated to say goodbye. In fact, the last day there, I asked if I could come see her. She was feeling bad, too.
He was one to whom might be told, without shame, fear, or compunction, the plain, blunt, terrible truth. He understood. "I wish you'd look up Petronovich's boy, father," he might tell me, or, "Madame, have a woman-talk with Lovena Smith's girl at the mills, will you? Lovena's a fool, and that girl's up against things."
She looked me in the eye and said, 'Yeah and you bring your wife and that pretty little girl with you." "Good for her," Alison said. "Mmm." "It looks like the rain might be stopping. Let's find a beach," Alison suggested. "Yes." Joe corked the wine and called to the horses. "Say hi to Lovena for me, will you?"
I was falling in love with her, but I was married." Alison sighed. "Lovena was great, very shy and quiet, hard working. Sometimes she talked to me when the orders were packed and shipped. She talked about horses and barracuda and manta rays. I guess there's one time of year when mantas come into shallow water to mate or lay eggs or something. People can step on them by accident and get hurt."
It felt good to drop the letter in the mail. Hope it gets to her." Alison clapped her hands. The horses ears picked up. "I used to work with someone who lived around here," Joe said. "The horses reminded me. Her name was Lovena. Her family took care of horses." "Where did you work?" "In a warehouse. She was slim, like a boy, with short black hair and brown skin. She was strong beautiful, really.
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