"Yvonne Navarro - One Among Millions" - читать интересную книгу автора (Navarro Yvonne)

"Girls," the midwife said, turning back to the changing table. "Just as healthy
as can be, too. A little over six-and-a-half pounds each тАФ big for twins." Despite
her assurances, the black woman's voice was reserved, puzzled. Exhausted,
Sondra listened to the splash of water from the basin as the midwife expertly
sponged down the infants, then wrapped them in receiving blankets.
 "Can I see?"
"Here you go. One for each arm."
Warmth settled on either side of her and Sondra tucked her chin to her chest for
a glimpse of her babies. Sleeping already, come into the world without so much as
a whimper; tiny fingers bunched into loose fists, delicate lips still bluish-purple but
pinkening by the second. Their heads were crowned with thick, dark hair above
perfect eyebrows and petite, titled noses; as she gazed at them, the second one тАФ
Meleena тАФ spread her heart-shaped mouth in a barely discernible yawn.
Sondra jerked and both babies opened their eyes and regarded her solemnly.
"What was that?" she asked. Her voice was shaking.
For a moment the midwife said nothing, then the big woman folded her hands
in front of her as though she were trying to pray unobtrusively. "Something I've
never seen on a newborn," she said at last. "Teeth."
And now Sondra faced a new danger: Walters. There was something about him
that reminded her of the twins' father, an elusive call to forbidden sexuality that she'd
thought only one man, one creature, possessed.
"Open your legs."
"No!"
"Bear my children."
She gasped when someone touched her arm, then realized it was McShaw. "Are
you all right, Ms Underwood? You don't look like you feel very well."
"I'm f-fine," Sondra stammered. "Tired, that's all. It's hard to get a good night's
sleep with two crying babies." She clamped her lips shut, abruptly afraid she was
whining. It was another lie anyway; the twins never cried. Her sleep was broken by
the stealthy creaking of the stairs in the hallway outside the apartment, a thousand
phantom shadows in the corners of the dark rooms, the hushed rasp of steel
fingernails along the bottom of the too-flimsy front door.
Walters nodded sympathetically and for a moment she had the absurd notion that
he could read her mind. "Of course," he said. "We understand."
Sondra bit back a sharp remark and they both stood, as if some invisible puppet
master had pulled the "up" strings simultaneously. She found herself watching the
subtle movement of muscles beneath the taut fabric of Walters's uniform, then
flushed when her gaze travelled to his face and she realized he was watching her
watch him. For the first time she noticed that his eyes were a strange yellowish
colour unlike anything she'd ever seen, the stare of a lion surveying its prey.
"If you see him again, you call 911," McShaw said. "Plus we'll put your building
down for a few extra drive-bys every shift, try to make the squad cars more visible.
Until you give us something more concrete, that's about all we can do. I'm sorry."
The chunkier cop looked down at his clipboard and frowned. "It doesn't seem like
he's ever got close enough for you to get a solid description."
 Sondra opened her mouth, then shut it again when Walters ran his cat-coloured
gaze across her. She'd been about to say He looks like him, and point to Officer
Walters; horrified, she put a trembling hand to her mouth and prayed McShaw
wouldn't see her shivering. Was there that much of a resemblance? No, of course
not.