"John Dalmas - The Second Coming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

She stopped, stared, then barked a disbelieving laugh. "Grounded? Keys to my car?"
Her voice hardened. "I'm twenty-four years old, Father. A grown woman! I worked
for five years saving money for college. I bought that car, such as it is, and earned the
scholarship, such as it is."


He answered hoarsely, emotion burning his throat. "Then get out of this house! Right
now! We never want to see you again!"


"I'll get my things and . . ."


Her father took a step toward her. "You will not get your things. You will leave this
house now."
"My things are mine!" She shouted it in his face. "Bought with my money!"


Edmund Buckels raised a fist. His son, already on his feet and moving, wrapped his
arms around the older man, pinning him from behind. "Dad! Dad, don't do it. You'll
regret it forever."


The word "forever" took the starch out of his father. His mother, on the other hand,
had gotten up without help and attacked her son feebly, succeeding mainly in getting
mashed potatoes and gravy on his back. He turned, gripped her shoulders, and firmly
but gently seated her back on her chair, where she burst into tears and disconcerting
howls. Jenny, deeply shaken, hurried from the room.


A couple of minutes later, Steven Buckels followed. Her suitcase was open on her
bed, but she was shaking too badly to pack it. "Hi, Sis," he said quietly. "Can I help?"


She turned, her expression more bitter than grieving. "And they claim to be
Christians! They read the Beatitudes with thatтАФoily righteousness of theirs, and
thenтАФ" She swallowed, choked, then threw herself facedown on the bed beside her
suitcase and wept, fighting the sobs. When she was able to, she sat up and looked at
her brother. "How can they be soтАФtwo-faced?"


"They don't know what to do, Jen. They're afraid. Afraid of the world, of how it's
getting. And afraid for your soul. You've always been something of a rebel, you
know. To them that's the great treason, sinful in itself." He shook his head. "Don't
look for logic in it. There isn't any."


Somehow his words dissolved her anger; her pulse even slowed. "Are you afraid for
my soul?" she asked quietly.