"Karen Robards - Ghost Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robards Karen)

10
KAREN ROBARDS
GHOST MOON
11
proverbial killing of the fatted calf, she guessed. Her hand tightened around Sara's.
"I think I'm getting a blister on my heel," Sara complained. "I told you these shoes were too big."
Olivia focused on Sara again. "I have a Band-Aid in my purse."
"I hate Band-Aids."
"I know." It was all Olivia could do to suppress a sigh. Sara was not usually whiny, or grumpy, but she was rapidly becoming both. And who could blame her? The child had been traveling since seven that morning, first by car and then by bus and then on foot. "Listen, baby, if we keep walking up this path, just a little bit farther, we'll come to some stepping stones, and when we reach the end of them we'll go up some steps to the top of a bluff, and you'll be able to see the house from there." Sara's gaze swept their surroundings.
"It's spooky here." She shivered despite the heat. "That's just because it's night." Olivia's words and tone were comforting, but she, too, glanced around, almost unwillingly. Run away, Olivia. Run. Run away. She could swear that's what she heard, murmured over and over again through the shifting pockets of steam, but she told herself that it was her imagination, nothing more. What with the insects out in full force, the water lapping at the shores of the lake, and all the other sounds of the night, the calling voices could be anything, and certainly did not belong to ghosts. It was just that the dirt path through the woods was so dark. They should have kept to the road until they reached the long driveway; taking the shortcut had been a mistake.
"Aren't you scared?" Sara asked, darting a glance up at her mother.
"No," Olivia said stoutly, as her daughter sidled closer against her side, but wasn't quite sure that she was telling the truth. Whether she was or wasn't, though, there was no turning back at this point. The road was farther behind them than the house was ahead. They had to keep on walking.
overhead, a pale crescent moon slipped in and out of view behind a lacey overlay of lavender-tinged clouds, providingjust enough silvered light to see by. Glittering stars peeked at them through the dense canopy of leaves. To their left, moonlight painted a shimmering white stripe across the polished surface of the lake, while a nodding ring of water hyacinths, black in this light, performed an eerie ballet close to shore. To their right, the darkness of the cypress grove grew impenetrable just a few feet beyond where they walked. All around them, leaves rustled, branches swayed, and twigs snapped as who-knew-what nocturnal creatures moved about. Insects whirred in never-ending chorus. The soprano piping of dozens of tree frogs was underscored by a bullfrog duet from the direction of the water. Not far ahead, where the ragged-edged lakeshore curved back toward itself, monuments to long-dead Archer family members tilted this way and that atop a kudzu-covered bluff. A long-ago patriarch's marble crypt gleamed faintly through the darkness. Surrounding it, the aged stone markers looked like ghosts themselves. Fingers of diaphanous white mist rose above all.
Spooky? Oh, yes. Although she would never admit as much to Sara.
"Is that the lake where your mom drowned?"
Trust her sensitive, imaginative child to hit upon the one topic that Olivia really did not want to talk about



10
KAREN ROBARDS
GHOST MOON
11
proverbial killing of the fatted calf, she guessed. Her hand tightened around Sara's.
"I think I'm getting a blister on my heel," Sara complained. "I told you these shoes were too big."
Olivia focused on Sara again. "I have a Band-Aid in my purse."
"I hate Band-Aids."
"I know." It was all Olivia could do to suppress a sigh. Sara was not usually whiny, or grumpy, but she was rapidly becoming both. And who could blame her? The child had been traveling since seven that morning, first by car and then by bus and then on foot. "Listen, baby, if we keep walking up this path, just a little bit farther, we'll come to some stepping stones, and when we reach the end of them we'll go up some steps to the top of a bluff, and you'll be able to see the house from there." Sara's gaze swept their surroundings.
"It's spooky here." She shivered despite the heat. "That's just because it's night." Olivia's words and tone were con-dorting, but she, too, glanced around, almost unwillingly. Run away, Olivia. Run. Run away. She could swear that's what she heard, murmured over and over again through the shiffing pockets of steam, but she told herself that it was her imagination, nothing more. What with the insects out in full force, the water lapping at the shores of the lake, and all the other sounds of the night, the calling voices could be anything, and certainly did not belong to ghosts. It was just that the dirt path through the woods was so dark. They should have kept to the road until they reached the long driveway; taking the shortcut had been a mistake.
"Aren't you scared?" Sara asked, darting a glance up at her mother.
"No," Olivia said stoutly, as her daughter sidled closer against her side, but wasn't quite sure that she was telling the truth. Whether she was or wasn't, though, there was no turning back at this point. The road was farther behind them than the house was ahead. They had to keep on walking.
overhead, a pale crescent moon slipped in and out of view behind a lacey overlay of lavender-tinged clouds, providing just enough silvered light to see by. Glittering stars peeked at them through the dense canopy of leaves. To their left, moonlight painted a shimmering white stripe across the polished surface of the lake, while a nodding ring of water hyacinths, black in this light, performed an eerie ballet close to shore. To their right, the darkness of the cypress grove grew impenetrable just a few feet beyond where they walked. All around them, leaves rustled, branches swayed, and twigs snapped as who-knew-what nocturnal creatures moved about. Insects whirred in never-ending chorus. The soprano piping of dozens of tree frogs was underscored by a bullfrog duet from the direction of the water. Not far ahead, where the ragged-edged lakeshore curved back toward itself, monuments to long-dead Archer family members tilted this way and that atop a kudzu-covered bluff. A long-ago patriarch's marble crypt gleamed faintly through the darkness. Surrounding it, the aged stone markers looked like ghosts themselves. Fingers of diaphanous white mist rose above all.
Spooky? Oh, yes. Although she would never admit as much to Sara.
"Is that the lake where your mom drowned?"
Trust her sensitive, imaginative child to hit upon the one topic that Olivia really did not want to talk about



12
KAREN ROBARDS
GHOST MOON
13
just at that moment. The death of her mother had been the defining event of her childhood. It had changed her in a moment, like a catastrophic earthquake instantly reshapes the topography of the land. And yet, although the memory of the pain was sharp and strong even so many years later, she could conjure up no memory of how she had learned that her mother was dead, or of who had told her. No memories of her mother's funeral, or her stepfather, or the Archer family in mourning. It was as if her memory banks, where the events surrounding her mother's death were concerned, had been wiped clean. All she knew were the bare facts: Her mother had drowned at age twenty-eight in that lake.
The same lake from which voices now seemed to be calling to her.
"Yes." Olivia set her teeth against the sudden stab of loss remembered, and ignored the icy tingle of dread that snaked down her spine. She would not give in to the morbid fear of the lake that had been the bane of her growing-up years. She had always imagined that it was waiting to get her, to suck her down beneath its shiny surface as it had her mother. Her cousins, once realizing that she was afraid of the lake, had tormented her with it unmercifully, even going so far as to throw her in on one memorable occasion. Now, after so many years in hiatus that she had nearly forgotten about it, the fear threatened to rear its head again. Threatened, bull, she admitted to herself with chagrin. just setting eyes on the lake once more had brought it back in full, ridiculous force.
Run atpay. Run away.
Firmly she told herself that she was too old to be afraid of a body of water, even if it was dark and even if
voices did seem to be coming from its vicinity. After all, she was twenty-six now, a divorced mother who had been the sole support of herself and her daughter for nearly seven years. A grown-up. Definitely a grown-up.
"After your mom died, your stepfather kept you here with him until he died, and then his family took care of you until you married my father, right?"
Sara knew the tale well; a somewhat edited and greatly glamorized version of her mother's 11istory was her favorite bedtime story. During the last few lean years in Houston, both Sara and, if Olivia was honest, sara,s mother, had needed the dream of better times and better places to cling to.