"Emily Gaskin - The Green Corn Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gaskin Emily)

He is quiet for a moment. "And will it be a boy, do you think, or will it be a girl?"


"That I cannot say, my husband." I roll over and kiss his cheek. It is hot and wet
to the touch of my lips. Alarmed, I lay my hand on his forehead.


"I don't have a fever," he says.


"Steve--"


"Forget it. I was only thinking." He turns on his side, facing away from me. "Go
back to sleep. You and the baby need your rest."


And that is the end of the conversation. I bury myself against his back. My cheek
presses against the angle of his shoulder blade, and I fall into the rhythm of his
breathing and, finally, into sleep.
I dream of the green forest and a great hole in the ground. Vines and ferns grow
from it, climbing ever higher to the blue sky. I brush them aside to look into the
hole's depths.


Down in the black shadows, a small grey face looks up at me and smiles.


I wake up with a start. The bed is empty beside me. My heart is fixed as if by an
arrow. Have I been wrong about Steve's ghosts?


But then I hear the familiar interrupted grunt of a snore, and deep breathing. I
lean over the bed, and find Steve asleep on the floor, curled up like a child.


For dinner I make taal-holelke, boiled swamp cabbage. Steve has complained
that our child will get no taste of authentic Seminole cooking if I do not stop
feeding it pizza and egg rolls.


"Besides," he says, "It is healthier for both of you."


I make a face and add another tablespoon of cane syrup. "How was your visit
with Dr. Michaels today?"