[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
look out the window at the night. All the lights seemed very distant, but it
was a comforting sensation, not an alienating one. The wind stirred the
bushes, and she wondered how long Gideon the raccoon had continued to come
before deciding that she was a lost cause. Maybe she would put a handful of
dog biscuits out tomorrow night, on the off chance he cruised by.
She was thirsty, and, yes, actually hungry, although there was not likely to
be much that was edible in the refrigerator. She pulled the curtains against
the night and went to the kitchen.
There was a vase of flowers on the table, a fresh, fragrant mixture of
florist's blooms, and beside it a note, the first part of which, strangely
enough, was in Al's handwriting. Surely he would have mentioned any message
that afternoon? She picked it up and read:
Martinelli - I turned the ringer on your phone off and the sound down on your
answering machine. Call if you need anything, otherwise, I'll drop by in the
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
morning. The flowers are from Jules.
Al
Beneath it on the page, in the same ink but by someone with a much lighter
hand, was another message:
Kate,
We didn't want to wake you, but I thought you might like some food and
wouldn't feel like cooking. You can eat the soups cold or micro them for a
couple of minutes, ditto the beans in the glass casserole, but don't heat the
noodles - it's a salad. I'm going to be at the civic center tomorrow morning,
and may stop by around noon. Oh yes, that's Maj's tiramisu in the white bowl.
Take care.
Rosalyn
Kindness, the simple kindness of friends, the last thing she had expected, and
it reached in through her weakness and she felt tears start up in her eyes as
she sat at the table and read the words over again. On the third time through,
it occurred to her that she had been driven in here by hunger, and she seemed
miraculously to have at hand something more appealing and substantial than the
bowl of cold cereal she had resigned herself to.
Six containers of food awaited her: two white deli cartons, two glass jars,
and two ovenproof containers reminiscent of potlucks. Noodle salad with the
spicy, fragrant sesame dressing Kate loved - how had Rosalyn known? One jar
with a strip of masking tape labeling it mushroom soup, the other chicken
vegetable. Two kinds of beans. And a large bowl of creamy white pudding,
drifted with black-brown powdered chocolate. Kate reached in and began
greedily to pull out containers.
At midnight, replete and much steadied, Kate turned off the kitchen light,
turned on the light over the stairs, and began the climb to bed. Halfway up,
she paused, then reversed her steps back into the kitchen. She found a stemmed
wineglass and a pair of scissors, turned to the bouquet on the table and
teased a few of the flowers from it, trimmed their stems short, and dropped
them into the wineglass. She put the scissors in the drawer, ran some water
into the glass, put the denuded stems into the trash, turned off the light
again, and took the miniature flower arrangement up the stairs with her. The
flowers sat on the table beside her bed, keeping her company while she looked
at the television, and later they watched over her while she slept.
NINE
Contents - Prev/Next
Kate was in the garden chopping weeds with a hoe when she heard the doorbell.
The garden was on the north side of the house, and usually cool and shaded,
but despite being mid-December, it was one of those warm winter days that
explains why California is over-populated, and Kate was sweating with the
effort. She straightened and, with resignation, felt the inevitable jab in her
head travel on down her spine and seize her stomach, setting off the vague
nausea she had come to dread.
She was by now a connoisseur of headaches, a seasoned expert in knowing just
how far she could go, when to back off and fetch the dolly rather than lifting
a heavy object, how a change in the weather would affect the nerve endings
inside her skull. Two weeks after the injury now, and she was beginning to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
look out the window at the night. All the lights seemed very distant, but it
was a comforting sensation, not an alienating one. The wind stirred the
bushes, and she wondered how long Gideon the raccoon had continued to come
before deciding that she was a lost cause. Maybe she would put a handful of
dog biscuits out tomorrow night, on the off chance he cruised by.
She was thirsty, and, yes, actually hungry, although there was not likely to
be much that was edible in the refrigerator. She pulled the curtains against
the night and went to the kitchen.
There was a vase of flowers on the table, a fresh, fragrant mixture of
florist's blooms, and beside it a note, the first part of which, strangely
enough, was in Al's handwriting. Surely he would have mentioned any message
that afternoon? She picked it up and read:
Martinelli - I turned the ringer on your phone off and the sound down on your
answering machine. Call if you need anything, otherwise, I'll drop by in the
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
morning. The flowers are from Jules.
Al
Beneath it on the page, in the same ink but by someone with a much lighter
hand, was another message:
Kate,
We didn't want to wake you, but I thought you might like some food and
wouldn't feel like cooking. You can eat the soups cold or micro them for a
couple of minutes, ditto the beans in the glass casserole, but don't heat the
noodles - it's a salad. I'm going to be at the civic center tomorrow morning,
and may stop by around noon. Oh yes, that's Maj's tiramisu in the white bowl.
Take care.
Rosalyn
Kindness, the simple kindness of friends, the last thing she had expected, and
it reached in through her weakness and she felt tears start up in her eyes as
she sat at the table and read the words over again. On the third time through,
it occurred to her that she had been driven in here by hunger, and she seemed
miraculously to have at hand something more appealing and substantial than the
bowl of cold cereal she had resigned herself to.
Six containers of food awaited her: two white deli cartons, two glass jars,
and two ovenproof containers reminiscent of potlucks. Noodle salad with the
spicy, fragrant sesame dressing Kate loved - how had Rosalyn known? One jar
with a strip of masking tape labeling it mushroom soup, the other chicken
vegetable. Two kinds of beans. And a large bowl of creamy white pudding,
drifted with black-brown powdered chocolate. Kate reached in and began
greedily to pull out containers.
At midnight, replete and much steadied, Kate turned off the kitchen light,
turned on the light over the stairs, and began the climb to bed. Halfway up,
she paused, then reversed her steps back into the kitchen. She found a stemmed
wineglass and a pair of scissors, turned to the bouquet on the table and
teased a few of the flowers from it, trimmed their stems short, and dropped
them into the wineglass. She put the scissors in the drawer, ran some water
into the glass, put the denuded stems into the trash, turned off the light
again, and took the miniature flower arrangement up the stairs with her. The
flowers sat on the table beside her bed, keeping her company while she looked
at the television, and later they watched over her while she slept.
NINE
Contents - Prev/Next
Kate was in the garden chopping weeds with a hoe when she heard the doorbell.
The garden was on the north side of the house, and usually cool and shaded,
but despite being mid-December, it was one of those warm winter days that
explains why California is over-populated, and Kate was sweating with the
effort. She straightened and, with resignation, felt the inevitable jab in her
head travel on down her spine and seize her stomach, setting off the vague
nausea she had come to dread.
She was by now a connoisseur of headaches, a seasoned expert in knowing just
how far she could go, when to back off and fetch the dolly rather than lifting
a heavy object, how a change in the weather would affect the nerve endings
inside her skull. Two weeks after the injury now, and she was beginning to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]