rekindled(英文版)-第22章

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tell　me　why　you　left　him。　If　it　was　just　your　lousy　cooking　or　your
selfishness　in　the　shower；　he'd　have　left　you。〃　He　paused。　〃Is　that　what
happened？〃

She　looked　him　in　the　eye。　〃He　didn't　leave　me。　I　didn't　leave　him。　We
loved　each　other。　He　was　in　an　accident；　and　now　he's　dead。　Dead！〃　Her
chair　scraped　across　the　floor　as　she　stood　abruptly；　reached　angrily
for　his　plate；　and　stormed　to　the　sink。　She　slammed　the　food　facedown　in
it。　Then　emotion　overwhelmed　her。　Bracing　shaky　arms　against　the
counter；　she　hung　her　head。　Helplessly　she　gave　in　to　quiet　sobs。

She　didn't　hear　him　e　up；　but　there　was　a　genuine　softness　in　his
voice。　〃I'm　sorry。　I　wouldn't　have　pushed　if　I'd　known。　It　was
thoughtless　of　me。〃

She　brushed　at　the　tears。　〃It　doesn't　matter。〃　But　it　did。　It　had　been
months　since　she　had　cried；　but　she　couldn't　seem　to　stop。　When　she
brushed　them　away；　more　tears　came。　To　her　horror；　they　came　faster；
until　she　was　a　sniffling　bundle　of　misery。

Had　she　been　thinking　clearly；　she　would　have　shied　from　him　the　instant
his　hands　touched　her　shoulders。　But　clear　thought　was　beyond　her。　She
needed　fort；　and　he　offered　it。　Turning　her；　he　pressed　her　head　to
his　chest　and　held　her　while　her　whole　body　shook。

〃Better？〃　he　murmured　when　she　finally　quieted。　He　stroked　her　hair；
smoothing　loose　strands　from　her　damp　cheeks　as　she　nodded。　It　was　only
when　he　framed　her　face　with　his　hands　to　inspect　it　that　she　realized
she　was　hugging　his　waist。

Awkward；　she　blushed；　stepped　back；　and　turned　to　leave。

〃Wait；〃　he　ordered；　but　gently　now。　〃Why　don't　you　sit　down。　I'll　make
breakfast　for　both　of　us。　You　can　even　water　down　the　coffee　if　you'd
like。〃

He　hesitated。　In　the　silence；　she　saw　a　glint　of　humor　in　his　eyes。
〃Funny。　I've　taken　my　coffee　strong　and　black　since　I　was　sixteen。
Someone　told　me　it　would　put　hair　on　my　chest。　I　guess　you　don't　want
that；　do　you？〃

Anne　smiled　sadly。　〃Not　quite。〃　Her　voice　still　quivered；　but　her　eyes
were　drying　fast。　She　felt　more　calm　now；　purged。

〃You　sit　down；〃　he　repeated；　〃while　I　cook。　Then　we'll　decide　what's　to
be　done　about　this　。。。　mess。〃

Anne　helped　herself　to　a　fresh　cup　of　coffee；　adding　hot　water　from　the
tap；　then　returned　to　her　chair。　He　worked　in　silence；　cracking　eggs
into　the　heavy　iron　skillet；　toasting　a　fresh　batch　of　bread；　pouring
two　glasses　of　orange　juice；　toting　it　all　to　the　table。

She　ate　everything　on　her　plate；　matching　him　egg　for　egg；　toast　for
toast；　juice　for　juice。　Then　he　poured　her　a　second　cup　of　coffee；
filled　the　creamer　with　water　and　put　that　too　before　her。

Back　in　his　chair；　he　said；　〃I　spent　a　lot　of　time　last　night　thinking
about　this。　I　planned　to　do　some　fishing；　some　hiking；　some　reading；　and
a　lot　of　sleeping。　What　had　you　wanted　to　do？〃

She　tipped　up　her　chin。　〃Read。　Work。　Take　walks；　explore　the
neighborhood；　enjoy　the　solitude。〃

He　looked　out　the　window。　Bright　sun　lit　the　yard。　〃Look；　this　may　sound
crazy；　but　I　think　we　can　both　stay　here。　We　both　seem　to　want　quiet　and
solitude。　We　can　each　just　go　our　own　way。〃　He　looked　at　her。　〃I　know
this　area；　and；　trust　me；　there　won't　be　another　place　to　stay　on　such
short　notice。〃

She　tucked　a　handful　of　hair　behind　her　ear。　This　wasn't　quite　the
vacation　she　had　imagined；　but　he　had　a　point。　He　didn't　seem　willing　to
leave。　Barring　her　own　return　to　New　York；　there　wasn't　any　alternative。
Her　thumb　moved　on　the　ceramic　mug。　〃This　isn't　what　I　wanted。〃

〃Me；　neither。　But　it's　the　only　fair　thing。　If　I　have　to　put　up　with
your　hot　showers；　you　can　put　up　with　my　black　coffee。〃

〃What　about　the　beds？　Every　move　you　make　rattles　on　the　ceiling。　I
wanted　to　sleep。〃

〃Yeah；　I　wanted　that；　too；　but　the　bed　up　there　is　too　damned　small　and
unfortable。　Why　don't　you　try　sleeping　there？〃

〃Because　you're　there。〃

〃Then　why　don't　I　sleep　downstairs？〃

〃Because　I'm　there。〃

〃Damn　it；〃　he　sighed；　〃I　don't　want　to　share　your　bed。　Why　don't　we　just
switch？〃

She　wasn't　a　fool。　〃After　you've　told　me　how　small　and　unfortable　the
attic　one　is？　No　way！〃

〃Then　don't　plain　about　the　noise。〃　In　one　swift　move　he　was　up；
stacking　the　dishes；　dumping　them　in　the　sink。　When　he　turned　back　to
her；　a　silver　wave　had　fallen　across　his　brow。　〃You　clean　up。　I　cooked。〃
He　left　the　room　so　quickly　that　Anne's　protest　met　thin　air。

〃But…it　was…my　food…〃　Slowly　she　faced　the　dishes。　If　this　was　a　preview
of　the　week；　things　looked　grim。

But　Anne　was　tired　of　grim；　so　she　took　a　positive　approach。　Starting
with　a　long　walk　through　the　woods；　she　followed　the　line　of　a　low　stone
wall　across　the　hilltop　and　down　a　gently　graded　slope　until　the　road
intersected　her　path。　The　view　was　spectacular　from　several　points　where
the　forest　door　opened　to　the　village　below；　its　tall　white　church
steeple　catching　the　afternoon　sun。

As　she　followed　the　dirt　road　back　to　the　house；　the　climb　steepened。
She　stopped　to　rest　a　time　or　two。　All　was　peaceful。　The　murmur　of　the
breeze　was　a　wele　switch　from　the　grating　sounds　of　the　city；　the
lush　ferns　on　the　forest　floor　were　a　far　cry　from　stone　sidewalks；　the
chipmunk　skuttling　through　the　brush　was　far　better　than　a　guard　dog　on
a　leash　by　the　curb。

Accustomed　to　the　gray　of　the　pigeon；　she　smiled　at　the　chickadee's
black　cap　and　white　bib　and　the　red　breast　of　the　robin。　She　watched　the
play　of　the　sun　through　the　boughs　of　thick；　healthy　trees。　The
crispness　of　the　air；　sharp　without　chill；　invigorated　her。

When　she　finally　returned　to　the　house；　Mitch　was　nowhere　about。　No　car；
no　man；　no　note。　Exhausted　from　fresh　air　and　lack　of　sleep；　she
stretched　out　on　her　quilt　and　fell　into　a　deep　and　restful　sleep。

The　tension　of　the　past　weeks　took　its　due。　When　she　awakened；　it　was
dusk。　After　freshening　up　in　the　bathroom；　she　fixed　a　supper　of　soup
and　crackers；　then　settled　before　the　fire　to　finish　the　mystery　she'd
started。　But　the　story's　momentum　had　been　broken。　She　never　quite　got
back　into　the　terror　of　it。

When　she　finished　the　last　page；　she　sat　back　to　watch　the　flames。　Their
play　entranced　her；　calmed　her；　lulled　her　into　a　peaceful　daze；　and　for
the　very　first　time；　and　at　long　last；　she　felt　removed　from　Jeff's
death。

It　had　been　a　nightmare…first　news　of　the　plane　crash；　then　the　limbo
when　rescue　teams　set　to　work；　hope　when　survivors　appeared；　total　and
utter　despair　when　the　worst　became　reality。　But　her　heart　felt　lighter
now　than　it　had　at　any　time　since　then。　She　didn't　know　if　it　was　the
change　of　scenery；　or　the　start　of　true　healing。　But　it　felt　good。

Of　course；　Mitch　was　still　gone。　Though　it　was　after　nine；　he　hadn't
returned。　Just　as　well。　They　were　like　fire　and　water。

She　had　to　give　him　points；　though。　He　hadn't　gone　on　and　on　about　what
a　shame　it　was；　how　young　a　widow　she　made；　how　tragic　that　Jeff　had
been　taken　from　life　in　his　prime。　She'd　had　enough　pity　to　last　a
lifetime。

So　he　can't　be　all　bad；　she　mused；　even　if　he　does　make　bitter　coffee。

The　evening　passed　quietly。　Anne　left　her　chair　only　to　feed　the　fire。
After　a　time；　her　lids　grew　heavy。　She　fell　into　deep　sleep　from　which
only　the　sensation　of　movement　much　later　disturbed　her。　She　opened
groggy　eyes　to　find　herself　in　Mitch's　arms。

〃What　are　you　doing？〃　she　cried　and　began　to　squirm。

He　held　her　tighter。　〃Putting　you　to　bed。〃　They　were　already　at　the　door
of　her　room。

〃Put　me　down。　I　don't　need　your　help。〃

He　dropped　her　on　the　bed。　〃Don't　worry。　I'm　not　doing　you　any　favors。
I'm　thinking　of　me。　You　were　sleeping　in　my　chair。〃

Before　she　could　begin　to　call　him　out；　he　pivoted　and　left；　slamming
the　door　behind　him。

Sunday　brought　more　of　the　same。　On　the　plus　side；　the　weather　was
grand；　crisp　and　clear　once　the　early…morning　fog　lifted。　Having　slept
her　fill；　Anne　was　up　early；　putting　on　her　own　pot　of　coffee　to　assure
herself　a　cup　to　her　liking；　before　showering　and　dressing。　The　door　to
the　attic　remained　closed。　If　Mitch　was　still　asleep；　he　slept　soundly。
Everything　overhead　was　silent。

After　breakfast；　she　rewalked　yesterday's　route；　this　time　extending　it
to　the　brook　that　babbled　down　the　far　hillside。　In　keeping　with　the　nip
in　the　air；　the　first　of　the　birch　leaves　were　starting　to　yellow。　The
sun　picked　them　out　from　the　rest　and　added　a　glow。

Removing　her　sneakers；　she　rolled　up　her　jeans　and；　where　the　water　was
shallow；　waded　across　flat　granite　boulders。　It　was　the　kind　of　thing
she　and　Jeff　would　have　done。　Now　she　was　alone；　yet　strangely　peaceful。
Enjoying　herself；　she　leaped　lightly　from　stone　to　stone。

Returning　invigorated　to　the　house；　she　tackled　the　first　of　the　papers
she　had　to　translate；　making　good　headway　with　the　English…to…Spanish
piece　until　her　stomach　grumbled。　By　then　there　were　stirrings　from　the
upper　quarter。　She　worked　until　he　was　in　the　bathroom　and　dallied　in
the　kitchen　until　he　returned　to　his　room。　When　he　came　downstairs；　she
was　back　at　work；　sitting　at　the　small　desk　that　stood　beneath　a　side
window　of　the　living　room。

Then　the　trouble　began。　For　nearly　ten　minutes　he　looked　over　her
shoulder　while　she　worked　as　best　she　could。　Then　he　made　a　racket　with
pots　and　pans　in　the　kitchen。　When　that　ended；　there　was　whistling；　loud
and　persistent；　the　same　tune；　over　and　over　and　over　again。

Worst　were　interruptions　of　the　〃Hey；　where　is　。。　。〃　variety。　First　it
was；　〃Hey；　where's　the　salt？〃　Then；　〃Hey；　where's　the　ketchup？〃　Then；
〃Hey；　where's　the　large　spatula？〃

By　this　time　she　knew　he　was　baiting　her；　so　she　didn't　scream。　Calmly；
she　put　down　her　pen；　set　her　glasses　aside；　and　made　for　the　kitchen　to
register　a　civil　plaint。

〃Are　there　any　more？　migod；　what　are　you　doing？〃　She　ran　across　the　room；
only　to　drop　her　outstretched　arms　in　disgust　and　raise　her　eyes
heavenward　in　search　of　patience。

〃What's　the　trouble？〃　He　was　all　innocence。

She　peered　once　more　into　the　half…empty　jar　in　his　hand。　〃Those　are　my
macadamia　nuts。　I've　been　saving　that　itty…bitty　jar　for　this　vacation！
〃

〃So　I'll　buy　you　another　jar。　Is　money　that　tight？〃

Anne　scowled。　She　reached　for　the　jar　and　clamped　on　its　lid　before　he
could　take　more。　〃It's　not　the　money。　It's　the　principle。　I　love
macadamia　nuts。〃

〃I'll　get　you　more；〃　he　repeated　calmly。

She　returned　the　jar　to　the　cabi。　〃Can　I　trust　you　to　leave　it　alone；
or　do　I　have　to　put　it　in　my　room？〃

He　grinned　and　folded　his　arms　on　his　chest。　〃I　haven't　had　macadamias
in　ages。　I'd　forgotten　how　good　they　are。　But　you　can　trust　me。　At
least；　when　it　es　to　the　nuts。〃

For　a　split　second；　she　thought　she　heard　something　sexual　in　his　drawl。
Then；　dismissing　it　as　a　figment　of　her　imagination；　she　turned　and
stalked　off。

By　Monday；　a　pattern　emerged。　Anne　rose　early　each　morning　and　hiked　the
countryside。　Mitch　slept　late　enough　to　ensure　a　replenished　supply　of
hot　water　for　a　long　shower。　Meals　were　widely　scattered　and　eaten　alone
from　supplies　that　remained　separate　and　distinct。

By　Tuesday　Anne　felt　well　rested　and　relaxed。　If　Mitch　continued　to　toss
in　his　sleep；　she　had　either　gotten　used　to　the　noise　or　she　slept
soundly　enough　herself　to　blot　it　out。

He　woke　up　earlier　than　usual　that　day；　packed　a　lunch　and　vanished；
leaving　Anne　with　the　solitude　she　wanted。　Strange；　though；　between
work；　books；　and　other　incidental　activities；　she　kept　thinking　about
him。

She　was　living　with　the　guy。　Well；　not　in　that　sense。　Still；　her　friends
would　be　stunned　if　they　knew；　her　family　appalled。　But　she　was
fortable　here；　physically　and　emotionally。　This　world　was　divorced
from　that　of　New　York。　Same　with　Mitch。　So；　she　didn't　know　his　last
name。　The　anonymity　here　felt　right。　With　Wednesday　morning　came　the
awareness　that　her　vacation　was　ing　to　an　end。　By　Friday　afternoon
she　would　be　heading　back　to　the　city。　Thinking　about　it　over　breakfast
coffee；　she　felt　a　pang　of　disappointment。　All　things　considered；　the
vacation　had　been　a　good　one。　She　would　miss　this　country　when　she　had
to　leave　it　behind。

Determined　to　make　the　most　of　the　remaining　days；　she　spent　more　time
in　the　woods　than　ever；　reveling　in　the　beauty　of　the　flora；　the　freedom
of　the　fauna；　and　the　luxury　of　time　itself　It　was　past　noon　when　she
returned　to　the　cottage。　Leaning　against　the　trunk　of　an　old　apple　tree
in　the　backyard；　bathed　in　its　sweet　scent；　she　tipped　her　head　back　and
squinted　at　the　sun　through　the　fruit。

Inspiration　struck　then。　Pulling　her　jacket　off；　she　spread　it　on　the
soft　grass。　Then　she　began　to　pick　apples；　selecting　only　the　fullest
and　deepest　red　of　the　lot　to　add　to　the　growing　pile。　When　the　last　of
the　best　lay　on　her　jacket；　she　calculated　her　own　agility；　studying　the
upper　branches；　taking　stock　of　her　options。　Casting　prudence　aside；　she
braced　a　rubber　soled　foot　against　the　trunk　and　carefully　hoisted
herself　onto　the　first　branch；　bringing　a　whole　new　batch　of　fruit
within　reach。　Balanced　gingerly；　she　plucked　one；　then　another；　filling
her　free　arm　slowly。

Then　she　looked　down　and　saw　Mitch　right　at　the　foot　of　her　tree。
Startled；　she　lost　her　balance。　Apples　rained　to　the　ground　in　a　crimson
storm。　When　she　began　t