"Kate Wilhelm - Deepest Water" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

Abby gazed past her mother silently and offered no resistance to the embrace, but neither did she return
it. People had always said she looked like her mother, and she had denied it, had seen only the
differences, not the similarities; they were the same height, and Lynne was only a few pounds heavier, her
hair was as dark as AbbyтАЩs and, out of the chignon she had had it in, hung straight to her shoulders, like
her daughterтАЩs. They both had dark blue eyes and heavy eyebrows, bold and thick, without a curve,
much less a peak. The likeness, remarkable as it was, appeared superficial to Abby. The image of her
mother that rose in her memory was of a face contorted with anger: a mouth pinched in fury or
downturned in resentment; glaring, red-rimmed eyes; her voice loud and shrill, out of control in her rage
or whining in self-pity.

She disengaged herself and drew back, picked up her motherтАЩs dress and took it to the closet, placed it
on a hanger.

тАЬI canтАЩt talk right now,тАЭ she said, her back to Lynne. тАЬNot right now. IтАЩll come visit you in a few weeks.тАЭ

тАЬNo, donтАЩt come up to Seattle. Call me and IтАЩll come down here. WeтАЩll go to the coast for a day or two.
Will you do that?тАЭ She was pleading again.

Abby closed her eyes hard for a moment, then opened them and turned around. тАЬYes. IтАЩll call you when
things settle down again. WeтАЩll go to the coast.тАЭ She didnтАЩt know if she was lying or not. But they both
had known she wouldnтАЩt go to Seattle; she didnтАЩt like LynneтАЩs husband or her own half brother, Jason.
тАЬGood night, Mom. Sleep well. IтАЩm glad you came. Thanks.тАЭ

Back in her own room Brice was already in bed. They had twin beds pushed together, his mattress not
as firm as hers, but he was on her side, waiting for her.

тАЬI need a little more time,тАЭ she said, taking off her robe. тАЬIтАЩm sorry, but I need a little more time. I took a
pill and I think IтАЩll sleep okay tonight.тАЭ

тАЬI just want to hold you,тАЭ he said. When she got in beside him, he held her tenderly, stroking her
shoulder, demanding nothing. She stared dry-eyed into the darkness of the room.

Later, when he kissed her cheek and moved to his own bed, she pretended to be asleep and listened to
his breathing change. He had a little snore, one that she was used to and sometimes even found
comforting, but she felt herself go tense when he snored now. She waited longer, then silently got up, felt
for her robe, and left the bedroom.

The third bedroom had been turned into a study where Brice often worked at home. She entered and
closed the door. There was no need for a light; his computer monitor was enough. An endless stream of
aircraft flew silently by: zeppelins, the Wright brothersтАЩ first plane, SSTs, 747s, biplanes, helicopters, all
forever flying from the void, going nowhere. Their ever-changing light flowed over the top of the funereal
box, which Brice had placed on his desk.

She had seen the box before; it was mahogany so dark, it looked black, finely carved all over with
intricate patterns of flowers and birdsтАФa souvenir from his R&R on Bali, Jud had said.

тАЬThey carve everything,тАЭ he had said that afternoon at the lake. тАЬTheyтАЩll start carving a living tree while
itтАЩs still standing, the damnedest thing you can imagine тАФ demons, birds, gods, snakes, flowersтАж And
they carve it for eight feet up, ten feetтАж They carve the undersides of stairs, where no one will ever see