"Laymon, Richard - AmongTheMissing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

"All set?" she asked.
"All set," he said, and tried to open his door.
"Push down."
He pushed the lever down and the door unlatched. "Complicated contraption," he said, climbing out.
"It only responds if you handle it properly. Like a woman." Standing by the driver's door, she said, "Just a sec while I grab the blanket." She lifted a lever. The back of the front seat tipped forward.
"You sure came prepared."
"Why not? One can't always count on a bed. And as much as I adore the great out of doors, I do like to have a little something between me and the ground. Most _especially_ between me and the beach." Bending down, she reached behind the front seat.
The man shut his door. He stepped to the other side of the car and saw her still bent over. Her slim legs were pale in the moonlight. Her nightgown, no longer than a shirt, left her buttocks bare.
She ducked out of the low car and stood up straight, holding a knitted blanket.
"_Voila!_" she said.
"I'll carry it."
"See? I knew you were a gentleman. But I believe I'll keep it, thank you. A trifle nippy out here." She spread the blanket open and wrapped it around her body. "You're the native, so tell me. It's the middle of August. It rarely fails to be as hot as blazes during the daytime, but after dark we seem on the verge of the next Ice Age. Why is that?"
"Just how it is," he said. "It's the mountains. We're about a mile high, for one thing."
"Are _you_ freezing?"
"I'm fine," he said, and held out his hand.
Holding the blanket shut with one hand, she reached out through the front with her other and took hold of his hand. She gave it a squeeze.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"A trifle."
"Me too."
"You're not nervous. You're only saying that."
"Think so?" Lifting her hand, he placed it against the front of his shirt. "Feel that?"
"Oh, my Lord! Is that your _heart_?"
"Sure is."
"You _are_ nervous." She patted his chest. "Or are you just excited?"
"I'll never tell."
"I bet I could find out."
"Wouldn't you rather wait until we get down to the river?"
"Not necessarily. At least there's no sand up here."
"But there's no wonderful view of the moonlit river, either."
"Ah. True."
He led her forward, away from the parking area and over a narrow, grassy rise. From there, he could see the start of a trail that curved down the wooded slope. Far below, visible through breaks in the trees, was a pale stretch of beach, a curving lane of dark water, and woods on the other side.
"It does look lovely down there," she said.
"Nice and private."
"I hope so. Who do you suppose might belong to the car?" She glanced over her shoulder at it.
"Campers, maybe. Backpackers leave their cars here, sometimes, when they're going off on a long trek. They could be miles away."
"If anyone is around," she said, "we'll have to go someplace else. I'm not a great believer in public displays."
"Nobody'll be around. It's nearly three o'clock."
She squeezed his hand. "Have you ever been here with _her_?"
"Hey. Never mind about her, the bitch."
"Just asking."
"Don't."
"So sorry."
At the bottom of the slope, the trail vanished as it led into pale, moonlit sand.
"Wait just a second." Letting go of his hand, she put her hand inside the blanket and bent down.
"What're you doing?"
"Taking off my slippers. I don't want to get them all full of sand." Moments later, she said, "Oooo, cold! A _very_ good thing I brought the blanket, or we'd freeze our tushes the minute we lie down. Brrr." She stood up straight, keeping both hands inside the blanket. "All set," she said.
Side by side, they walked on toward the river.
"Now how can it be that the sand feels so much colder than the air?" she asked. "Does that make any sense?"
"Mountain sense."
"Oh, my God, I've fallen in league with Daniel Boone."