rekindled(英文版)-第19章

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life　fell　apart。　When　they　looked　at　her；　Anne　knew　what　they　saw。　She
saw　it　in　the　mirror　each　morning；　the　pallor　in　an　oval　face　framed　by
pitch…black　hair。

Still；　she　said；　〃I　really　have　no　choice；　have　I；　Mother？　I've　been
more　fortunate　than　others；　always　having　someone　to　be　with。　When　it
wasn't　you　and　Dad；　it　was　Peggy；　then　my　roommates　at　college；　then
Jeff。〃　Her　voice　caught　on　his　name。　She　had　long…since　cried　herself
out；　but　that　little　break　in　her　breath　remained。

Marjorie　Faulke　grasped　at　straws。　〃Call　Peggy。　She　won't　be　starting
classes　for　another　few　weeks。　She'll　make　the　trip　with　you。〃

But　Anne　shook　her　head。　〃No；　Mom。　Peggy's　terrific。　For　a　sister；　I
couldn't　ask　for　finer。　But　she　has　her　own　life；　her　own　friends。　It's
not　her　job　to　baby…sit　me。　And　I'd　really　prefer　to　be　alone。〃　Her
voice　hardened。　〃I'd　better　get　used　to　it；　don't　you　think？〃　Oh；　yes；
there　was　anger。　Its　only　cure　was　through　the　courts；　but　it　would　be
months　more　before　things　were　resolved　there。

A　silence　had　hung　over　the　intimate　round　table；　its　elegant　place
settings　and　fine　food　for　otten。　This　had　bee　a　pattern；　this　family
gathering　turned　wake；　but　it　had　to　be　broken。　Anne　had　to　start　to
live　again。　The　trip　to　Vermont　was　a　first　step。

As　the　full　blaze　in　the　fireplace　settled　to　a　more　sedate　crackle；　the
patter　of　raindrops　broke　through　Anne's　reverie。　Stretching　her　legs；
she　stood；　smoothed　out　her　jeans；　and　padded　barefoot　to　the　front
window。　The　darkness　was　dense。　Staring　out　through　rain…spattered
panes；　she　was　grateful　that　she　had　shut　the　car　windows　and　locked　the
door。　The　idea　of　going　outside　to　do　it　now　didn't　appeal　to　her。　As
she　stood；　hands　by　her　sides；　eyes　straight　ahead；　she　could　see
nothing　but　the　black　of　night　and　her　own　grim　reflection。

She　didn't　need　friends　to　tell　her　that　she　looked　gaunt　and　spectral。
Her　cheeks　were　pale；　hollowed　by　a　weight　loss　that　had　cut　into　gentle
curves　all　over　her　body。　Her　mouth　was　more　often　drawn　thin　and
straight　now；　rather　than　curved　in　a　smile。　Dark　eyes　that　had　once
danced　with　happiness；　now　spoke　of　loneliness；　and　her　hair　didn't
swing。　It　fit　her　mood；　which　was　restrained。　Even　now　she　had　it　tied
back　with　a　thin　strip　of　black　velvet　whose　ends　were　lost　in　the
ribbing　of　her　black　turtleneck　sweater。

This；　too…this　ghostly　appearance…would　have　to　change　if　she　planned　to
start　a　new　life。

She　had　been　paralyzed　for　weeks　after　the　previous　January's　debacle。
The　thought　of　a　future　without　Jeff　was　still　alien。　They　had　been
married　for　seven　years；　though　it　had　seemed　forever。　Anne　was　a
sophomore　in　college；　a　language　major；　when　she　had　met　him　during　a
summer　of　study　in　France。　He　was　one　of　the　few　Americans　she　had　seen
during　her　three　month　stay　with　a　family　in　a　small　village　west　of
Limoges。　His　means　of　transportation　had　been　a　bicycle；　his　means　of
munication　a　brilliant　smile；　until　he　discovered　she　spoke　English。
From　then　on　they　were　inseparable。　He　revised　his　touring　plans　to
acmodate　her；　and　when　they　returned　to　the　States　at　the　end　of
August；　friendship　became　courtship。　He　was　also　from　New　York；　his
family　home　an　hour's　drive　from　her　own。　By　January　she　had　transferred
to　his　midwestern　university；　they　were　married　the　following　summer。
Only　two　years　apart　in　age；　they　grew　up　together；　passing　through　the
college　years　of　flux　and　idealism　with　hours　of　carefree　camaraderie
and　first　love。　Both　had　e　from　hard…working；　upwardly　mobile
families　that　helped　them　financially　until　they　were　on　their　own　feet。
But　money　hadn't　mattered；　even　when　Jeff　became　a　successful　investment
consultant。　What　mattered　had　always　been　Jeff　and　Anne；　Anne　and　Jeff。
Then；　abruptly；　it　was　Anne；　alone。

When　the　stupor　finally　began　to　wear　off；　she　took　stock　of　her　assets。
She　had　a　home…a　spacious；　well…furnished；　stylishly　decorated　condo。
She　had　money　enough　to　live　in　it　fortably；　with　leftover　to　invest。
She　had　friends。　She　had　family。　She　had　her　own　car；　one　not　as　sporty
as　Jeff's　Audi；　but　small；　reliable；　and　gas　efficient。　And　she　had　her
work。

Fluent　in　French　and　Spanish；　Anne　worked　as　a　freelance　interpreter
through　most　of　her　marriage。　At　first　they　had　needed　the　money；　later
not　so；　but　she　enjoyed　her　work；　and　with　nothing　to　keep　her　at　home；
it　filled　the　hours　when　Jeff　was　at　the　office。　When　they　planned　a
trip；　she　took　on　less　work。　When　Jeff　had　a　business　trip；　she　took　on
more　and　was　busy　until　he　returned。

More　than　once　during　those　long；　morbid　months；　she　had　wondered　what
would　have　been　if　she　had　been　with　him　on　that　last；　fateful　trip。
They　might　have　been　together　still。

But　they　weren't。　She　was　alone。

Gradually　she　took　on　more　work；　branching　off　into　textbook　translation
for　local　universities。　As　opposed　to　interpreting；　where　she　had　to　be
personally　on　the　spot　at　a　given　time　on　a　given　day；　there　was　more
flexibility　in　translation。　Once　the　material　had　been　picked　up；　she
could　tackle　the　job　on　her　own　schedule；　in　the　fort　and　privacy　of
her　apartment。

The　work　was　plentiful。　She　could　pick　and　choose。　Between　her
availability；　her　petence；　and　her　promptness；　she　was　in　demand。

On　occasion；　she　met　overeager　professors；　even　some　young　and
attractive　ones　who　were　aware　of　her　situation。　She　remained　courteous
and　professionally　efficient；　but　she　refused　to　date　them。　It　disturbed
her；　even　angered　her；　that　men　thought　she　would　want　to　date　so　soon。

Memories　of　Jeff　were　too　near；　too　vivid；　too　dear。　Those　memories
would　eventually　settle　in；　she　knew；　and　she　might　date　then。　For　now；
though；　she'd　had　enough　of　love　and　pain。

This　trip　was　good　in　that　sense；　too。　It　gave　her　excuses　to　avoid
dating。　Between　getting　ready　to　leave　with　a　million　errands　to　do；
being　physically　out　of　state　for　the　week；　and　eventually　returning　to
a　huge　pile　of　work；　she　was　safe。　She　didn't　have　to　worry　about　men　in
the　backwoods　of　Vermont。　She　was　hoping　she　wouldn't　see　anyone　in　the
week　she　was　here。

Pretty　reclusive　for　a　former　socializer；　she　mused　without　a　hint　of
remorse。

From　the　hearth；　the　sudden　crumbling　of　an　ash…split　log　startled　her。
She　whirled　from　the　window；　eyes　wide　in　alarm。　When　she　realized　what
the　sound　was；　she　took　a　breath　and　uncurled　fingers　from　fists。　After
months　of　being　bitten　to　the　quick；　her　nails　had　grown　into　nicely
tapered　tips。　And　there　was　her　wedding　band；　wide　and　gold；　gleaming
with　deceptive　brightness；　on　the　third　finger　of　her　left　hand。

When　the　fire　spoke　again；　cackling　for　a　feeding；　she　knelt　before　the
warm　stone。　Taking　a　piece　of　dried　birch　from　the　large　wood　basket；
she　laid　it　over　the　broken　embers。　The　log　heated；　then　burst　into
flame。　It　was　an　omen；　she　vowed；　as　she　picked　up　her　book　from　the
floor　by　her　chair。　Slipping　large　tortoiseshell　glasses　over　the　bridge
of　her　nose；　she　settled　back　between　the　chair's　wide　wings。　They　were
a　fort；　these　wings；　serving　to　keep　her　sights　on　the　fire　before
her；　rather　than　on　the　darkness　behind。

Her　ticket　to　freedom　lay　in　her　lap。　Ever　an　avid　reader；　Anne　had
escaped　into　books　in　recent　months；　when　all　else　failed　to　calm　her。
As　a　friend；　a　book　had　advantages　over　the　human　variety。　It　was　there
whenever　she　needed　it；　it　vanished　as　easily；　and　it　never　asked
questions；　expected　witty　replies；　made　awkward　suggestions；　or
otherwise　overpensated　for　its　own　inability　to　right　the　wrongs　of
the　world。　She　had　packed　a　friend…a…day　supply　for　this　trip。　That　was
all　the　pany　she　needed。

The　hardcover　in　her　hand　was　a　biography。　She　opened　it　now；　and　was
suddenly　caught　up　in　the　same　world　she　was　trying　to　flee。　On　the
inside　cover　of　the　volume　was　an　inscription　that　she　hadn't　noticed
earlier。　It　brought　back　a　storm　of　memories。

〃To　my　favorite　sister…in…law。　Have　a　marvelous　vacation　and　be　sure　to
spend　a　week　with　us　when　you　get　back。　Maryellen。〃

From　the　first；　Jeff's　family　had　adored　her。　They　had　always　insisted
that　they　would　hold　Jeff　personally　to　blame　if　the　marriage　ended。　In
that　spirit；　they　had　stayed　so　close　to　Anne's　side　that　she　had　to
finally　beg　them　for　space。　They　had　eased　off；　but　with　reluctance。

Anne's　parents　had　persisted；　urging　her　to　give　up　the　apartment　and
move　back　home；　but　she　refused。　She　knew　that　as　crammed　with　reminders
of　Jeff　as　the　apartment　was；　it　was　better　than　the　Westchester　home
where　she　had　grown　up。　To　return　there　would　be　an　admission　of
failure…failure　to　make　the　kind　of　happy　life　her　parents　had。

A　ghost　of　a　smile　lifted　the　corners　of　her　lips。　Her　childhood　had
been　happy　indeed；　even　those　awkward　adolescent　years　when　she　was　an
ugly　duckling；　by　modest　accounts。　Oh；　her　parents　denied　it；　but　the
mirror　didn't　lie；　and；　anyway；　the　ugly　duckling　became　a　swan　well
before　the　Senior　Prom。　By　that　time　she　was　quiet　and　graceful；
thriving　academically；　socially；　and　emotionally。　Nothing　in　her　rosy
first　twenty…seven　years　had　even　remotely　begun　to　prepare　her　for　the
heartbreak　at　the　start　of　her　twenty…eighth。

Brought　back　to　the　present　by　a　pang　of　hunger；　she　closed　the
untouched　book　and　went　to　the　kitchen。　She　flipped　on　a　single　light；
mixed　tuna　into　a　salad；　put　a　pot　of　coffee　on　to　perk；　and　toasted　rye
bread。　With　the　sandwich　plate　in　one　hand　and　a　coffee　mug　in　the
other；　she　retraced　her　steps；　flipping　the　light　off　with　a　nudge　of
the　elbow。

Her　hunger　surprised　her。　Unusual　for　her；　she　finished　the　sandwich。
Revived；　she　sat　back　in　the　chair；　the　mug　warming　her　hands　as　the
fire　warmed　her　feet；　and　it　suddenly　struck　her　that　she　was　beginning
to　feel。　It　had　been　months　since　she　had　smelled　coffee　brewing　or　felt
the　barefoot　plushness　of　a　carpet。　But　the　coffee　did　smell　good。　Same
with　the　burning　logs　and　the　pines　outside；　and　her　feet　did　feel；
albeit　smooth　sanded　oak　planks　rather　than　the　thick　carpeting　of　home。

Pushing　the　glasses　up　on　her　nose；　she　stared　at　the　biography；　but　it
wasn't　a　biography　kind　of　night。　Jumping　up；　she　returned　to　her　room
for　a　replacement。　Mystery　or　romance…the　choice　was　easy。　A　romance
might　appeal　to　her　later　in　the　week；　when　she　was　feeling　stronger。
She　took　the　mystery　and　set　off。

The　addition　of　several　logs　brightened　the　blaze　in　the　hearth。　Edging
her　chair　closer；　she　read　from　its　light；　and　the　book　drew　her　in。
Within　a　chapter；　she　was　the　heroine。　She　was　only　marginally　aware
that　the　rain　was　ing　harder；　beating　with　increased　force　against
rooftop；　windowpane；　and　clapboard。　It　was　a　fitting　backdrop　for　the
story　of　a　young　woman　stranded　in　the　deep　woods　in　a　cabin　not　unlike
her　oparison；　debated　switching　to
the　romance　after　all；　but　was　inexorably　drawn　back　to　the　tightly
written　piece。　Burrowing　deeper　into　the　chair；　she　gave　herself　up　to
the　plot。

She　read　for　two　hours；　pausing　only　for　more　coffee。　The　gold　watch　on
her　wrist　read　eleven；　but　she　was　wide　awake；　stimulated　by　caffeine；
her　new　surroundings；　and　the　riveting　edge　of　the　story。　As　Chapter
Four　became　Five　and　then　Six；　the　mystery　deepened。　Accidents　were
neither　accident　nor　coincidence。　Someone　was　after　the　heroine。　No；
something　was　after　her；　or　so　it　appeared　from　the　bizarre　markings
left　by　footprints；　paw　prints；　or　whatever　in　the　winter　snow。　Terror
slowly　mounted。　The　woman　was　trapped；　hunted；　doomed。　As　Chapter　Seven
ended　and　Eight　began；　she　hatched　her　escape　plan　against　seemingly
insurmountable　odds。　Then；　plicating　an　already　desperate　situation；
came　the　blizzard。　Gale　force　winds；　blinding　snows；　chilling
temperatures　conspired　to　keep　her　at　the　mercy　of　the　wild　beast　that
stalked　her。

With　a　thud；　Anne　put　the　book　facedown　onto　her　lap；　heart　pounding　in
vicarious　fright。　Mystery；　my　foot；　she　mused　with　regret；　this　book　is
sheer　horror！　It　wouldn't　have　been　so　bad　if　she'd　picked　it　up　last
night　or　last　week　in　New　York。　Here；　though；　she　was　alone；　isolated
from　the　familiar；　a　good　three　miles　from　a　shred　of　civilization。

Spooked；　it　took　her　a　minute　to　realize　that　what　she'd　assumed　to　be
the　thundering　of　her　pulse　was　the　thunder　outside。　Lightning　followed
quickly；　brightening　the　dark　side　of　the　room　for　a　shocking　instant；
its　blue…white　gleam　icy　in　parison　to　the　warm　orange　glow　of　the
fire。

Hastily　she　added　several　more　logs；　desperately　needing　to　put　the　book
down；　desperately　needing　to　read　on；　knowing　that　she　wouldn't　be　able
to　sleep　until　the　last　page　had　been　turned　and　the　mystery　solved。　She
raised　the　book　again　to　another　deafening　clap　of　thunder。　It　vibrated
through　the　house　along　with　tongued　bolts　of　lightening。

Anne's　nerves　prickled　then；　because；　in　the　thunder's　wake　came　another
noise。　This　one　was　more　human　and　threatening。　A　car　was　approaching；
ing　nearer；　loud　enough　to　be　heard　above　the　storm。　It　reached　her
front　door　and　stopped。

Huddled　in　the　chair；　she　held　her　breath。　It　was　twelve　thirty…five；
well　past　normal　calling　hours　even　in　the　city。　Perhaps　o