Matecumbe by James A. Michener Page B

and pastels seem to have the power to put me in a relaxed frame of mind.”
    “Well, our first tram stop will be at one of the old Martello Towers. These were originally the military forts that were built on the corners of the island to protect against an attack by sea—during the Civil War. Just a few years ago, the fort farthest from downtown was converted into a public flower garden. If I remember correctly, pinks and yellows bloom in abundance almost all year long.”
    Melissa’s first reaction when she saw this huge fort-cum-flower-garden was that the once intimidating stone façade seemed to blend now, in an eye-pleasing manner, with the expansive covering of omnipresent bougainvillea, hibiscus, and wild orchids.
    “It looks like a mix of the good and the bad, war and peace, the calm and the hectic,” she effused. “Sort of like a statement that promotes nonviolence. When I see flowers dominating a military fort, it’s like when the nose of a cannon is propped straight up and turned into a flower planter. It tells me that peace has conquered war—that we are celebrating the death of guns.”
    When she had finished with this speech, Melissa remembered that Joe, being a policeman, might have differing views.
    “Well put,” he nodded. “But don’t forget, I’m kind of proud that policemen like me are called keepers of the peace.”
    “That’s true,” Melissa admitted. “I guess the guns and peace thing could be a sensitive point to policemen. One shouldn’t assume that the terms ‘peace’ and ‘police’ are mutually exclusive.”
    The next attraction along the route of the Conch Train was Ernest Hemingway’s house on Whitehead Street. The building itself and the fenced grounds are now considered a national historic landmark.
    Hemingway lived in Key West with his second wife, Pauline, from 1928 until 1940.
    During its heyday, the house, which sits on one of the high water points of the town, was the biggest and most luxurious private residence in all of Key West.
    “Don’t think that it was Hemingway’s money that built the house,” Joe cautioned, as he and Melissa walked through an outside garden. “His wife was extremely rich, and even though Ernest had written a few of his best-sellers already, like
To Have and Have Not
, he could never have afforded this place on what he earned. Take the swimming pool, for example. It was the first in-ground pool ever built in the Florida Keys. It cost almost as much as the house, because the hard coral foundation had to be blasted out with dynamite. The mass of coral, being buried so close to ground level throughout the island, is the reason that most houses in the Keys don’t have basements.”
    Melissa was delighted by the bevy of cats living at Ernest’s house. Domestic short hairs of every possible color combination took turns brushing their bodies alongside her legs. A tiny, longhaired, tortoiseshell white was particularly friendly and affectionate.
    “There must be close to a hundred here,” she giggled, as she stopped to pet what seemed like every one of them.
    “Hemingway loved cats,” Joe smiled. “You’ll notice that some of them have an extra toe on each of their front paws—a mutant strain.
    “And since Hemingway liked to frequent the rowdy neighborhood tap rooms on an almost nightly basis, the locals tell the story that even his cats are predisposed to being better barroom brawlers—thanks to that extra claw.”
    The sunny but cool weather on Key West made Melissa wish she could stay for longer than just a day. The wide expanses of sand on the south side of the island were home for hundreds of multicolored beach chairs, looking like spring flowers sprouting wildly in the middle of a field.
    “It’s beautiful here, Joe, and it even has a little bit of class to it, what with the ethnic restaurants, the playhouse, and all of the museums. Key West also appears to have quite a few nightspots.”
    “You’re right,” Joe admitted. “The