"Harrington, Patricia - Between A Rock And A Hard Place" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrington Patricia)

who loved collecting rocks and working on old cars would be gone forever.
George decided that Eunice had probably flung the soapstone into the narrow
yard between the garage and the neighbor's fence. He found it in a patch of
frozen weeds and tenderly carried it to his workbench.
The soapstone was egg-shaped though slightly larger, and in color, was a
delicate mottled green and white. George liked to stroke the stone, holding it
gently as if it could break. He had seen soapstone figures carved by Inuit
artists at rock shows, and the sculpted statues of warriors, dancers and
fishermen had fascinated him. George thought there was a shaman inside his
stone and had checked out how-to-do books so that he could carve the shaman's
face and form his body to release him.
A week ago, George had been studying his soapstone, trying to see where the
shaman's eyes should be, when Eunice walked in and threw his overalls at him.
"I told you to never to put these filthy things in my laundry hamper."
He had wanted to protest that he hadn't worn the overalls fixing the car that
they were only soiled from mowing the lawn. But George didn't speak up because
he couldn't. He had held back too long and too often for the sake of keeping
some kind of peace. And when the red tide started, he felt himself crumbling
like a worn bulkhead being battered by pounding waves. It took all his will
power not to fall apart.
Eunice said, "Don't stand there looking stupid. Put those overalls in a bag
and take them to the Laundromat tomorrow."
George clutched the soapstone for support, and that's when he felt its warmth
soothing and consoling him. George kept the soapstone in his pocket the rest
of the day, and the red tide didn't return.
Now Eunice stood in the doorway, pulling her sweater tight around her. "You
should have had the car ready last week. If you'd asked your boss for a raise
like I told you, we could afford something better."
"Don't worry, I'll have it fixed by Friday."
George had already adjusted the Buick's timing mechanism and was finishing the
work on the muffler and exhaust system. The real reason George didn't buy a
newer car was that he didn't have the equipment to fix it since the newer
models all had sophisticated computer chip running their systems. If he gave
up the old car, what excuse would he have to hang out in the garage-going to
work on his rock collection? Eunice would never tolerate that.
George angled his halogen light in Eunice's direction, hoping the glare would
drive her inside. She turned to leave but gave a parting shot. "Well, hurry
and finish. I hate it when you come to bed after I'm asleep. You wake me up."
Later, George changed into his pajamas in the hall bathroom and tiptoed into
the bedroom. When he pulled back the covers on his side, Eunice said sleepily,
"Mother called. She bought insulation and wants you to install it in the
basement after you finish the bathroom." She rolled away from him, and he
listened to her breathing as she fell back to sleep.
George's heart thudded and bells rang a death knell in his head. He would
never be able to finish that extra work and attend the rock hound show. It
wasn't fair. Eunice knew how much he was looking forward to his time alone at
the show.
George wanted to get up and get his soapstone, to hold it and feel its
comforting warmth, but he was afraid of disturbing Eunice. So he stayed awake,
fighting against the red tide and searching for a way out of the trip.