"Mary Rosenblum - California Dreaming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

тАЬOkay.тАЭ The girl looked up at Ellen, her eyes dark and fierce. тАЬSheтАЩll be all
right. I love her.тАЭ

SheтАЩll be all right. I love her. That incantation hadnтАЩt saved Rebecca. Ellen
swallowed. тАЬWhatтАЩs your momтАЩs name, honey?тАЭ

тАЬLaura Sorenson.тАЭ The girl dipped the folded washcloth into the water.
тАЬSheтАЩll get well. She has to.тАЭ

Her hands were trembling as she wiped her motherтАЩs face. Ellen groped for
reassuring words and found only emptiness. тАЬIтАЩll be back in a little while,тАЭ she said.

CLOUDS WERE boiling up over the horizon again by the time Ellen returned to the
house. The wind gusted on-shore, whipping the waves, snatching wisps of spume
from the gray curl of the breakers. There had been a lot of storms lately, as if the
QuakeтАЩs terrible power had been absorbed into the atmosphere, was being
discharged in raging wind and waves.

тАЬJack called the relief people up in Eureka.тАЭ Ellen flinched as the wind
slammed the screen door behind her. тАЬTheyтАЩll send the helicopter for your mom,
just as soon as it gets back in.тАЭ If the weather didnтАЩt stop it. She closed the wooden
door against the building storm. тАЬHow is she?тАЭ

тАЬAsleep.тАЭ Beth hovered protectively in the bedroom doorway. тАЬBetter, I
think.тАЭ

Ellen edged past her and bent over the bed. She was worse, struggling to
breathe, burning with fever. The womanтАЩs eyelids fluttered and Ellen shivered. There
was a disinterested glaze to her eyes; as if the woman was on a boat, watching a
shoreline recede into the distance. She is dying, Ellen thought and shivered again.
тАЬBeth?тАЭ Distract her. тАЬCome have something to eat, okay? I donтАЩt want you getting
sick, too.тАЭ
 тАЬIf you want.тАЭ Beth sat reluctantly at the kitchen table. тАЬWhat a pretty
woman.тАЭ She nodded at the watercolor on the wall. тАЬDid you paint it?тАЭ she asked
with a childтАЩs transparent effort to be polite.

тАЬNo.тАЭ Some art student had painted it, years ago. Rebecca was smiling, head
tilted, one hand in her dark, thick, semitic hair that had just been starting to go gray.
The student had caught the impatience, the intensity that kept her up all night
working, sent her weeping into EllenтАЩs bed in the dawn, full of exhaustion and
triumph and doubts. Tell me itтАЩs not awful, she would whisper. God, El, I need you.
тАЬItтАЩs a picture of my friend.тАЭ Ellen busied herself peeling back shrink-wrap and
slicing the yellow block of salmon-boat cheese. тАЬIs a cheese sandwich all right?тАЭ

тАЬFine.тАЭ

Silence. The rasp of the dying womanтАЩs breathing filled the kitchen. тАЬShe was
an artist,тАЭ Ellen said too loudly. тАЬShe did collages. When they started selling, I quit
my job and we moved out here.тАЭ You supported me, Rebecca had said, grinning.