"Rosenblum-CaliforniaDreamer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenbaum Benjamin)

back into the bag and hurried up the lane to the house.

Inside, the watercolor Rebecca glowed on the wall. Ellen tossed the bag onto the
cluttered worktable and went into the bedroom.

"Hi." Laura smiled wanly at Ellen. "Beth went to get more water. She said she
saw a pool up above the house."

"The spring," Ellen nodded. "That was nice of her."

"Beth's a good kid. She had to grow up a little too early. There was a divorce
-- a custody battle. I think . . . it was ugly. I think it . . . hurt Beth,"

Again, the sense of lines being recited. "You're remembering?" Ellen asked.

"I don't know." Laura's eyes flickered. "I remember scenes or faces -and I don't
know them, but I do. I'm not making any sense, am I?" Her laugh was fragile,
edged with hysteria. "Did our building bum down? I remember it burning and . . .
I remember picking up pieces of a broken vase and thinking how lucky I was. I
keep wanting to remember that it was a house, but it was an apartment, wasn't
it?"

Ellen took a quick breath. "Who's Julia DeMarco?"

"I . . . don't know. Do I?" Laura whispered. "Joseph . . . ? Oh, God." She
buried her face in her hands. "Why do I want to cry? What's wrong with me? I
don't even know where we are or why we're here."

"Take it easy." Ellen stroked Laura's back. "You'll straighten everything out
eventually." Would she? Who are you? she wondered, but she didn't say it out
loud.

"Hi, Mom." Beth stuck her head through the doorway, a wet jug in each hand.
"What's wrong?" She dropped the jugs, ran to the bedside. "Mom, what's wrong!"

"Nothing . . . nothing." Laura straightened, struggling to smile for her
daughter. "I'm still feeling . . . shaky."

"Oh, Mom." Beth clutched her mother. "You'll remember again. You have to."

"Of course I will, sweetheart." Laura buried her face in her daughter's hair.
"It's all right, Beth. Really."

Was it? Ellen tiptoed out of the room. Perhaps it would be all right. Perhaps
Laura Sorenson would wake up tomorrow and remember the burning apartment. And
what about Julia DeMarco? What about Joseph? Not my business, Ellen told herself
fiercely. Not at all. She got a pot down from the kitchen cupboard, filled it
with water from the dripping jug.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked from the doorway.