"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Shadow Storm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

Stacy ran to him, tears streaming down her face.

Shadow Storm held her with all the tenderness her mother could not
seem to muster, his silence speaking volumes after her mother's attempts
to soothe had only made her ache with need. He smelled of the old house,
where they had lived together as a family, never quite happy but familiar.
She also caught the aroma of baking chocolate chip cookies and the
greenery smell of the field where her father had taught her to catch a ball.
Among it all, she found the faint fragrance of her father's aftershave, that
which had given his identity away months ago. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too," he replied.

The door rattled open, and her mother's head poked through the crack.
Shadow Storm disappeared, replaced by Stacy's blanket, mashed tightly in
her embrace. "Dinnertime, Stacy."

"Coming, Mom." Stacy returned the covers, knowing better than to be
late.


Two days later, Stacy sat on the terrace, watching passersby from over
the waist-high barrier. Though eleven floors up, she could still distinguish
enough to tell men from women; and, as always, she recognized the plaid
fedora well before its wearer stepped over the blocked border from the
street to the sidewalk and headed in her direction. It had become a daily
ritual. "Business" brought Sean Sterner past the New York skyscraper that
housed his daughter every afternoon once school let out, though
twenty-seven miles separated the apartment building from his place of
employment. Stacy had discovered him the first time by accident, but she
had never failed to wait and wave since that day.

As he came upon the layered balconies, Sean Sterner stopped and
looked up.

Though Stacy could not read his expression, she waved vigorously. He
returned the salute, followed by a broad circular motion that he had
explained during visitation meant "I love you."

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered, returning the gesture fervently. "I
love you, too."

Then he was gone, headed for whatever business he needed to attend
to. Moments later, the balcony door whisked open amid the jangle of the
wind chime swinging from its frame.
 Stacy turned, seeing her mother framed in the entry, holding the glass
door ajar with her elbow.

"Your father wants to talk to you." Mary Draybin spoke in a somber
tone, her expression grave.