"Keyes, Kathleen - Widow's Walk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Keyes Kathleen)

A glass of wine and some awkward attempts at chit-chat, followed by a lovely dinner of stroganoff and green beans, peach cobbler for dessert. The menu is always the same because Lena has decided these are my favorites. Coffee in the den and then off to bed.

As Father warned, my room is nearly the same as when I was a child. Another assumption by Lena. The dolls and stuffed animals still stand watch from the corners of bookshelves and dressers. The bedspread and matching drapes are the same pink and red roses my mother let me pick out when we moved here. Even the small white table and matching chairs where we held tea parties still occupy one corner.

I guess I shouldn't be so poor-spirited about Lena. I remember her playing tea party with me before my mother died. But when she tried to play with me later I resisted. She wanted to cuddle me but she could not take my mother's place and I think she resented that.

Sleep comes quickly and my dreams are fresh and sweet like the soft, clean bedding that envelops me. A cool breeze touches my face and I awake as if I had been asleep for hours. The breeze is coming from an open window, the filmy white sheers sway gently. Looking out across the moonlit yard, I see the pale image of the woman no one wants me to talk about. She is dressed in the same long blue dress with navy shawl, a white lace hankie tucked in one sleeve. She stops in the rose garden, looks up at me. I wave. She smiles, then continues walking, her image fading as she goes.

"We've got to go shopping, Belinda. Your clothes are passщ." Lena dances as she talks, swooping and gliding between the sink and the breakfast table.

"Give her time to rest, Lena," says my father, observing my lack of enthusiasm at his wife's announcement. "She's only been home a few days. She's hardly unpacked."

"Don't be an old poop, dear. She loves to shop, don't you, Belinda?"

My father never asserts himself more than once. Today is no exception. Gathering his newspaper and cup of coffee, he heads toward his study.

"By the way, Belinda," says Lena, pulling a tattered leather-bound book from a drawer in the antique sideboard near the table, " I found this old book in the attic years ago. It has the history of Stormy Point in it. I wanted to give it to you sooner but your father was afraid it would only upset you."

"Stormy Point?" I ask.

"The original name of Gull's Point. Your mother changed it. Said Stormy Point sounded so gloomy."

"Yes," my heart warms, "she would never call anything beautiful by a dark, gloomy name." The book is fascinating. Hours fly by as I read, experiencing the families who handed the house and its history down from generation to generation. Each chapter includes the lady in the blue dress.

Charlotte Dubois Briggs. The first mistress of Stormy Point. Her husband was a ship's captain for the merchant marines. His ship was lost at sea in their fifth year of marriage. They had two children, who were mostly raised by a nanny, as

Lying on my bed, I can hear her sad moans. They seem clearer tonight than ever before. I go to the window to search for her in the garden. The moon is bright but she is not to be seen. The sounds seem to be coming from above me, not from outside. I am usually terrified to think about going up to the roof but the idea comes calmly tonight. Perhaps she is up there -- standing watch on the widow's walk. Without robe or slippers I ascend the narrow staircase and open the door. The night air is warm and fragrant. I walk to the railing to scan the panorama below me. A shiver runs up my arms and turn to see a misty form, standing in the very corner I cowered in as a child. She is beautiful. She's the lady in blue.

A voice whispers my name. Another lady dressed in blue stands in the doorway. The same lady that pushed my mother so many years ago. She starts toward me. A chill engulfs me and I stumble and fall to the floor. A weight catches and pulls across my feet. I bury my face at the sound of hideous screams as she falls through the still broken railing.

Then it is completely silent. I can hear my father's footsteps running through the house below me. I can't move but I'm not afraid. There's a comforting presence. It's her-- Charlotte. She smiles softly, her image fading.

"Belinda! Belinda!" my father screams as he gathers me up in his arms once more. "What has happened? Oh God, what has happened?"

I could tell him the truth. It was Lena, my wicked stepmother, who pushed my mother to her death. But the pain in my father's eyes has diminished my desire to avenge the past.

"I must have been sleepwalking. Lena came to help me but we were too close to the edge. She pushed me back and lost her balance. She saved my life." I hold him tight as he sobs. Fading quickly now, the lady in blue blows me a kiss -- and disappears.




Copyright й 1999 Kathleen Keyes