"Nancy Kress - Phillipa's Hands" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

funeral and drive just to Carter Falls. The thought of the trucks on Route 3 undid her. She had no driver's
license, no need to go to Carter Falls, and no answer. The clipping was nowhere. It was never anywhere.
This new one wouldn't be, either, until the grocery boy delivered next week'sTime .

About four inches square, the clipping on the bed was paper-cut sharp on two joining edges, furred on
the other two, as if it had been torn from the bottom right corner of a page. But then there should he a
date or page number or part of the paper's name, shouldn't there? Philippa could see without moving that
there wasn't. The clipping was uncreased, unyellowed, crisp. But that made sense, since it hadn't
appeared yet.
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Made sense. 0 my god.

She could curse but not pray.

Another thing she knew she couldn't do, not until it was all over, was look at the crucifix on the wall. Just
flat couldn't swivel her head that way. The whole wallтАФfaded green-stripe wallpaper, her grandmother's
bureau with the chipped green paint and newel-post mirror and hand-tatted dresser scarf, Douay Bible
on the scarf beside the cut-glass bowl holding hairpins and rubber bandsтАФwas off limits, until this was
over. The first time, she had even thought this made a terrible sense. If the three weird women came from
the Anti-Christ, the Evil One, then of course she would be barred from looking at the crucifix while they
were there . . . she had been so stupid. And so afraid.

The clipping bore only one small headline. With type that small, and coming from the bottom of a page, it
must not be too important. That was a good sign. тАЬAn outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual
grace."

Now how hadthat bit of catechism gotten through? Startled, Philippa tried again to clasp her hands for
prayer. Her left ring finger, where once Jim's band had gone and where she would have worn the silver
band making her a Bride of Christ, looked to her bonier and whiter than the rest. But that was just trashy
fancy. It was important to keep clear what was fancy, what was not.

Philippa slid out of bed. That too was necessary; the clipping couldn't be reached otherwise, no matter
how far forward she leaned. Her long flannel nightdress, the nap worn off at the elbows, wound itself
around her hips. She jerked it down with a quick glance at the sobbing women, who only went on
sobbing in their eerie silence.

Impatience stabbed Philippa. They weren't the ones going to do it. Some people just liked carrying on.
Some like that from the parish had tried to visit her after Jim, clutching her hand and sniffing enough to
turn your stomach, when they had never come near Jim during his illness. One visit was all she let them
try.

She picked up the news clipping. The paper felt heavier than the ones the grocery boy delivered once a
week. The type was smaller, too: serious type, and brief:


MARRAKESHтАФAn earthquake here earlier today killed at least 34 people, including 22 children.