"Bruce Holland Rogers - A Common Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rogers Bruce Holland)

saying, "Dr. Preston? Excuse me, Dr. Preston?"
Julian looked away from the window. Randal had stopped reading some moments ago, and Julian was
aware that he'd gone on staring out the window for some time after the secretary's interruption. The
secretary stood in the doorway, as if she had no right to cross the threshold. "Dr. Preston," she said,
"there was an emergency call for you." She held a slip of paper.
"Yes," Julian said. It was time. Anna was going. He felt relieved, and then ashamed. "Yes, all right."
Julian's mother-in-law had made the call from the hospice. She would collect Yvonne from school and
Nick from day care and meet him.
As he drove out of town toward the hospice, the snow fell thick and fast. It swirled in his headlights
and sometimes blew in the same direction that he travelled. In his daze, it seemed that the car was
standing still, that the wheels rolled and bumped but somehow didn't carry him forward. He took his foot
from the accelerator again and again, tried his brights, though that was worse. He opened his eyes very
wide and fought to stay awake and on the road.
There was no other traffic, and it was dark, astonishingly dark for the early afternoon. Why did the
hospice have to be a dozen miles out of town? But he knew the answer to that. He understood.
He almost missed the turn-off. The lights of the hospice were just barely visible from the road. The
parking lot had not been plowed, and Julian half drove, half sledded to the far corner of the lot, away
from the other cars.
When he turned off his lights and killed the engine, the light outside seemed to shift. It was dark, but
not too dark to see by. There was a sort of blue-gray glow to the woods that surrounded the parking
lot.
Now that he could release it, Julian felt how heavy the burden of staying alert and focused had been.
He wanted to melt into his seat and keep on melting. Something gnawed in his stomach, and he realized
that he was hungry. Famished. He couldn't remember eating breakfast-- he'd been so busy getting the
kids ready for school and day care. Had he eaten lunch?
They'd have something for him inside, if he asked. They were so good at this place, terribly good at
noticing, terribly good at being concerned for everyone involved.
He closed his eyes. He should go in. They were waiting for him-- his son, his daughter, his
mother-in-law. He wondered about Anna, wondered if his wife had already...
But he'd know in a bit. He'd go in.
Right now, though, he wanted, for just a moment, to rest here, to let all the effort fall away. He could
hear the snow falling, hissing gently, gently, a cottony sound...
A bell jangled.
He opened his eyes. The window was open, and snow was blowing into the car.
The bell jangled again. He squinted into the darkness, and he could see that there was an
old-fashioned telephone mounted on the tree next to his car. When the bell jangled a third time, he got
out of the car to answer it.
"Yes?" he said. "Hello?"
"Julian?" said the tinny voice in the earpiece.
"Anna?"
"Julian?"
"Anna? Is it really you?"
"Julian?" she said, and there was no doubting that it was her.
"Anna! Anna, sweetheart!"
"Julian?"
"Yes, it's me!" he said. "Oh, God, Anna!" He felt weak with relief. He could hardly stand. "It's so good
to hear you!"
"Julian?"
"Can't you hear me? I can hear you fine. Anna?"
"Julian?"