"Jack Finney - From Time to Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Finney Jack)

"Yeah. Took me all summer. He was twenty-five, his extremely fine yellow hair thin on top. "Had to
write a million letters. With his knuckle he tapped a little pile of stacked papers. "Want me to read them,
or just tell you?
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"Just tell us for now. Can you xerox copies for next time?

"Sure. Ben Bendix put me in touch with this. Remember Ben? He was in my class. Parapsych degree
like me.

Someone said, "Sure, I remember him.

"Well, he's married now, lives in Stockton, California, and he put me in touch with this family. Their
name is Weiss; father, mother, two grown daughters. One married, the other divorced and back in
Stockton, living with the folks. Well, the divorced one remembers another sister. Sort of.

"Steve. The chairman sat shaking his head. "I don't know about the sort-ofs. Is this one of those little
fragments of memory things?

" Fraid so.

"Well . . . what's the rest?

"She thinks the other sister was called Naomi. Or Natalie. Not sure. A year younger, maybe. Thinks she
remembers them playing together, when she was around twelve.

"She says it reminds her of trying to remember a dream?

"Yep; one of those. Little memories like walking to school together. Dinner with the family. Just stuff like
that. And you know the rest: no one else in the family remembers this other sister, there never was
another daughter. The divorced daughter actually checked out birth records, and they finally insisted this
one cut it out, quit talking about it. He touched the papers before him. "What I got here is three letters,
pretty long, from her; what she remembers, what she doesn't. And one each from the others. They didn't
want to write at all, but I pestered them into it.

"I think we have to pass on this, Steve; sorry.

"That's okay.

"The vague ones, remember little hits and pieces-what can we do with them? Appreciate the effort,
though.

Footsteps coming fast sounded outside, and two men walked in quickly, the younger one tall and
stick-thin in a wrinkled white suit, saving, "Sorry, sorry, sorry! We're late, late, late! But you wont mind.
He nodlded proudly at the other man as they stopped beside the chairman, who was rising to greet them.
"Mv fault, the other man said; he looked about forty-five, lean in the face, and wore a blue nylon
windbreaker over a very clean white T-shirt. "I had to work, so supper was late.