"Alan F. Troop - Dragon Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Troop Alan F)

just maybe, I have waited too long.




Henri tires of the manateeтАФor the beast tires of himтАФ and my son rejoins me just as I begin to weed
the gardenElizabethso lovingly restored. He studies me as I kneel and search the ground between the
green stalks of the exotic herbs Elizabeth had planted, follows me as I look under the yellow-green
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flowers of the Dragon's Tear plants and the deep purple petals of the Death's Rose bushтАФ seeking
invading parasites, yanking them out, roots and all.

Finally, the boy pulls on a few green stalks of his own, slaughtering some innocent herbs and one
deserving weed in the process. Henri holds them out for me to inspect.

"Good job," I say, and take them from him.

Henri beams. But rather than return to weeding, he looks away, toward the island's ocean side. "Papa?"
he says. "Can I go to the beach?"

I yank another weed, and mutter, "Damn!" when its stalk snaps, leaving its roots buried in the dirt.

"Papa!" Henri giggles. "You used a bad word."

"You're right. I'm sorry," I say, digging in the dirt for the roots, wondering if letting him watch movies off
our satellite dish has been a good idea. The few PG-13 ones I've let him see have certainly led to endless
discussions about which words are good or bad.

"Can I go, Papa?" Henri says.

There's no reason I can think of why the boy has to stay with me. If I could, I'd avoid weeding too. I pull
out the last of the weed's roots and frown at the rank, thick aroma of the broken vegetation around me.
Standing, I turn my back on the garden, study the clear, light blue sky above us, the powder-puff clouds,
the bright sun, its heat surprisingly strong for May. I can understand why my son would rather play on a
day like this than do chores.

"Go ahead." I add, "Just be careful," even though I doubt that anything on the island can inflict any injury
he can't quickly heal.

"Yes, Papa." He rushes off.

Brushing my hands on my jeans, I wait a few minutes, then follow the stone path from the garden to the
wide, deep stone steps that lead to the oak-decked veranda encircling our three-story-tall coral house.
Taking the steps two at a time, I get to die bay side of the deck just hi time to check on Henri as he
begins to scamper up one of the dunes across the island on the ocean side.