cw.imarriedadeadman-第20章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　She　was　holding　out　her　hand　protestingly　toward　him；　as　if　trying　to　ward　off　something。　She　took　a　backward　step　away；　broke　their　proximity。
　〃I　don't　like　it；〃　he　said　rebelliously。　〃It　does　things　to　me　that　are　new。　I　was　never　bothered　before。　I　never　even　had　the　sweetheart…crushes　that　they　all　do。　I　guess　that　was　my　way　to　be。　But　this　is　it；　Patrice。　This　is　it　now；　all　right。〃
　〃No；　wait…　Not　now。　Not　yet。　This　isn't　the　time…〃
　〃This　is　the　time；　and　this　is　the　night；　and　this　is　the　place。　There'll　never　be　another　night　like　this；　not　if　we　both　live　to　be　a　hundred。　Patrice；　I　love　you；　and　I　want　you　to　ma…〃
　〃Bill！〃　she　pleaded；　terrified。
　〃Now　you've　heard　it；　and　now　you're　running　away。　Patrice；〃　he　asked　forlornly；　〃what's　so　terrible　about　it？〃
　She'd　gained　the　lower…porch　step；　was　poised　on　it　for　a　moment　in　arrested　ifight　He　came　after　her　slowly；　in　a　sort　of　acquiescent　frustration；　rather　than　in　importunate　haste。
　〃I'm　no　lover；〃　he　said。　〃I　can't　say　it　right…〃
　〃Bill；〃　she　said　again；　almost　grief…strickenly。
　〃Patrice；　I　see　you　every　day　and…〃　He　flung　his　arms　apart　helplessly；　〃What　am　I　to　do？　I　didn't　ask　for　it　I　think　it's　something　good。　I　think　it's　something　that　should　be。〃
　She　leaned　her　head　for　a　moment　against　the　porchpost；　as　if　in　distress。　〃Why　did　you　have　to　say　it　yet？　Why　couldn't　you　have…　Give　me　more　time。　Please；　give　me　more　time。　Just　a　few　months…〃
　〃Do　you　want　me　to　take　it　back；　Patrice？〃　he　asked　ruefully。　〃How　can　I　now？　How　could　I；　even　if　I　hadn't　spoken？　Patrice；　it's　so　long　since；　now。　Is　it　Hugh；　is　it　still　Hugh？〃
　〃I've　never　been　in　love　bef…〃　she　started　to　say；　penitently。　She　stopped　suddenly。
　He　looked　at　her　strangely。
　I've　said　too　much；　flashed　through　her　mind。　Too　much；　or　not　enough。　And　then　in　sorrowful　confirmation：　Not　enough　by　far。
　〃I'm　going　in　now。〃　The　shadow　of　the　porch　dropped　between　them　like　an　indigo　curtain。
　He　didn't　try　to　follow。　He　stood　there　where　she'd　left　him。
　〃You're　afraid　I'll　kiss　you。〃
　〃No；　that　isn't　what　I'm　afraid　of；〃　she　murmured　almost　inaudibly。　〃I'm　afraid　I'll　want　you　to。〃
　The　door　closed　after　her。
　He　stood　out　there　in　the　full　bleach　of　the　moonlight；　motionless；　looking　sadly　downward。
　
　
　25
　
　In　the　morning　the　world　was　sweet　just　to　look　at　from　her　window。　The　sense　of　peace；　of　safety；　of　belonging；　was　being　woven　about　her　stronger　all　the　time。　Soon　nothing　could　tear　its　fabric　apart　again。　To　wake　up　in　your　own　room；　in　your　own　home；　your　own　roof　over　your　head。　To　find　your　little　son　awake　before　you　and　peering　expectantly　out　through　his　crib；　and　giving　you　that　crowing　smile　of　delight　that　was　already　something　special　he　gave　to　no　one　but　you。　To　lift　him　up　and　hold　him　to　you；　and　have　to　curb　yourself；　you　wanted　to　squeeze　so　tightly。　Then　to　carry　him　over　to　the　window　with　you；　and　hold　the　curtain　back；　and　look　out　at　the　world。　Show　him　the　world　you'd　found　for　him；　the　world　you'd　made　for　him。
　The　early　sunlight　like　goldenrod　pollen　lightly　dusting　the　sidewalks　and　the　roadway　out　front。　The　azure　shadows　under　the　trees　and　at　the　lee　sides　of　all　the　houses。　A　man　sprinkling　a　lawn　a　few　doors　down；　the　water　fraying　from　the　nozzle　of　his　hose　twinkling　like　diamonds。　He　looked　up　and　saw　you；　and　he　gave　you　a　neighborly　wave　of　the　hand；　though　you　didn't　know　him　very　well。　And　you　took　Hughie's　little　hand　at　the　wrist；　and　waved　it　back　to　him　in　answering　greeting。
　Yes；　in　the　mornings　the　world　was　sweet　all　right。
　Then　to　dress；　to　dress　for　two；　and　to　go　downstairs　to　the　pleasant　room　waiting　for　you　below；　to　Mother　Hazzard；　and　her　fresh…picked　flowers；　and　her　affectionate；　sunny　greeting；　and　the　mirror…like　reflection　of　the　coffee…percolator　（that　always　delighted　him　so）　showing　squat；　pudgy　images　seated　around　it　on　its　various　facets：　an　elderly　lady；　and　a　much　younger　lady；　and　a　very　young　young…man；　the　center　of　attraction　in　his　high　chair。
　To　be　safe；　to　be　at　home；　to　be　among　your　own。
　Even　mail　for　you；　a　letter　of　your　own；　waiting　for　you　at　your　place。　She　felt　a　pleased　little　sense　of　pletion　at　sight　of　it。　There　was　no　greater　token　of　permanency；　of　belonging；　than　that。　Mail　of　your　own；　sent　to　your　home。
　〃Mrs。　Patrice　Hazzard；〃　and　the　address。　Once　that　name　had　frightened　her。　It　didn't　now。　In　a　little　while　she　would　no　longer　even　remember　that　there　had　been　another　name；　once；　before　it。　A　lonely；　frightened　name；　drifting　ownerless；　unclaimed；　about　the　world　now…
　〃Now　Hughie；　not　so　fast；　finish　what　you've　got　first。〃
　She　opened　it；　and　there　was　nothing　in　it；　Or　rather；　nothing　written　on　it。　For　a　moment　she　thought　there　must　have　been　a　mistake。　Just　blank　paper。　No；　wait；　the　other　way　around…
　Three　small　words；　almost　buried　in　the　seam　that　folded　the　sheet　in　two；　almost　overlooked　in　the　snowy　expanse　that　surrounded　them。
　
　〃WHO　ARE　YOU？〃
　
　
　26
　
　In　the　mornings　the　world　was　bitter…sweet　to　look　at　from　her　window。　To　wake　up　in　a　room　that　wasn't　rightfully　yours。　That　you　knew…and　you　knew　somebody　else　knew…you　had　no　right　to　be　in。　The　early　sunlight　was　pale　and　bleak　upon　the　ground；　and　under　all　the　trees　and　on　the　lee　side　of　all　the　houses；　tatters　of　night　lingered；　diluted　to　blue　but　still　gloomy　and　forbidding。　A　man　sprinkling　the　lawn　a　few　doors　down　was　a　stranger；　a　stranger　you　knew　by　sight。　He　looked　up；　and　you　hurriedly　shrank　back　from　the　window；　child　and　all；　lest　he　see　you。　Then　a　moment　later；　you　already　wished　you　hadn't　done　that；　but　it　was　too　late；　it　was　done。
　Was　he　the　one？　Was　he？
　It　isn't　as　much　fun　any　more　to　dress　for　two。　And　when　you　start　down　the　stairs　with　Hughie；　those　stairs　you've　e　down　so　many　hundreds　of　times；　now　at　last　you've　learned　what　it's　like　to　e　down　them　heavyhearted　and　troubled；　as　you　said　you　might　some　day　have　to；　that　very　first　night　of　all。　For　that's　how　you're　ing　down　them　now。
　Mother　Hazzard　at　the　table；　beaming；　and　the　flowers；　and　the　gargoyle…like　reflections　on　the　percolator…panels。　But　you　only　have　eyes　for　one　thing；　furtive；　straining　eyes；　from　as　far　back　as　the　threshold　of　the　doorway。　From　farther　back　than　that；　even；　from　the　first　moment　the　table　has　e　into　sight　Is　there　any　white　on　it；　over　on　your　side　of　it？　Is　there　any　rectangular　white　patch　showing　there；　by　or　near　your　place？　It's　easy　to　tell；　for　the　cloth　has　a　printed　pattern；　with　dabs　of　red　and　green。
　〃Patrice；　didn't　you　sleep　well；　dear？〃　Mother　Hazzard　asked　solicitously。　〃You　look　a　little　peaked。〃
　She　hadn't　looked　peaked　out　on　the　stairs　a　moment　ago。　She'd　only　been　heavyhearted　and　troubled　then。
　She　settled　Hughie　in　his　chair；　and　took　a　little　longer　than　was　necessary。　Keep　your　eyes　away　from　it。　Don't　look　at　it。　Don't　think　about　it。　Don't　try　to　find　out　what's　in　it；　you　don't　want　to　know　what's　in　it；　let　it　stay　there　until　after　the　meal；　then　tear　it　up　un…
　〃Patrice；　you're　spilling　it　on　his　chin。　Here；　let　me。〃
　She　had　nothing　to　do　with　her　own　hands；　from　that　point　on。　And　she　felt　as　though　she　had　so　many　of　them；　four　or　five　at　least。　She　reached　for　the　coffee…pot；　and　a　corner　of　it　was　in　the　way。　She　reached　for　the　sugar…bowl；　and　another　corner　of　it　was　in　the　way。　She　drew　her　napkin　toward　her；　and　it　sidled　two　or　three　inches　nearer　her；　riding　on　that。　It　was　all　about　her；　it　was　everywhere　at　once！
　She　wanted　to　scream；　and　she　clenched　her　hand　tightly；　down　beside　her　chair。　I　mustn't　do　that；　I　mustn't。　Hughie's　right　here　next　to　me；　and　Mother's　just　across　the　table…
　Open　it；　open　it　fast。　Quick；　while　you　still　have　the　courage。
　The　paper　made　a　shredding　sound；　her　finger　was　so　thick　and　maladroit。
　One　word　more　this　time。
　
　〃WHERE　ARE　YOU　FROM？〃
　
　She　clenched　her　hand　again；　down　low　beside　her　chair。　White　dissolved　into　it；　disappearing　through　the　finger…crevices。
　
　
　27
　
　In　the　mornings　the　world　was　bitter　to　look　at　from　the　window。　To　wake　up　in　a　strange　room；　in　a　strange　house。　To　pick　up　your