dk.coldfire-第44部分

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　〃We'll　need　to　stop　in　New　Svenborg　to　get　a　few　things　before　we　head　out　to　the　farm；〃　Jim　said。　
　〃What　things？〃　〃I　don't　know。　But　when　we　stop。　。　。　I'll　know　what　we　need。〃　
　Lake　Cachuma　came　and　went　to　the　east。　They　passed　the　road　to　Solvang　on　the　west；　then　skirted　Santa　Ynez　itself　Before　Los　Olivos；　they　headed　east　on　another　state　route；　and　finally　into　New　Svenborg；　the　closest　town　to　Ironheart　Farm。　
　；　In　the　early　nineteen　hundreds；　groups　of　Danish…Americans　from　the　Midwest　had　settled　in　the　Santa　Ynez　Valley；　many　of　them　with　the　intention　of　establishing　munities　that　would　preserve　Danish　folk　arts　and　customs　and；　in　general；　the　ways　of　Danish　life。　The　most　successful　of　these　settlements　was　Solvang；　about　which　Holly　had　once　written　a　story；　it　had　bee　a　major　tourist　attraction　because　of　its　quaint　Danish　architecture；　shops；　and　restaurants。　
　New　Svenborg；　with　a　population　of　fewer　than　two　thousand；　was　not　as　elaborately；　thoroughly；　authentically；　insistently　Danish　as　Solvang。　
　Depressing　desert…style　stucco　buildings　with　white…rock　roofs；　weathered　clapboard　buildings　with　unpainted　front　porches　that　reminded　Holly　of　parts　of　rural　Texas；　Craftsman　bungalows；　and　white　Victorian　houses　with　lots　of　gingerbread　and　wide　front　porches　stood　beside　structures　that　were　distinctly　Danish　with　half　timbered　walls　and　thatched　roofs　and　leaded…glass　windows。　Half　a　dozen　windmills　dotted　the　town；　their　vanes　silhouetted　against　the　August　sky。　All　in　all；　it　was　one　of　those　singular　California　mixes　that　sometimes　resulted　in　delightful　and　unexpected　harmonies；　but　in　New　Svenborg；　the　mix　did　not　work；　and　the　mood　was　discordancy。　
　〃I　spent　the　end　of　my　childhood　and　my　entire　adolescence　here；〃　Jim　said　as　he　drove　slowly　down　the　quiet；　shadowy　main　street。　
　She　figured　that　his　moodiness　could　be　attributed　as　much　to　New　Svenborg　as　to　his　tragic　family　history。　
　To　an　extent；　that　was　unfair。　The　streets　were　lined　with　big　trees；　the　charming　streetlamps　appeared　to　have　been　imported　from　the　Old　Country；　and　most　of　the　sidewalks　were　gracefully　curved　and　time…worn　ribbons　of　well…worn　brick。　About　twenty　percent　of　the　town　came　straight　from　the　nostalgic　Midwest　of　a　Bradbury　novel；　but　the　rest　of　it　still　belonged　in　a　David　Lynch　film。　
　〃Let's　take　a　little　tour　of　the　old　place；〃　he　said。　
　〃We　should　be　getting　to　the　farm。〃　
　〃It's　only　a　mile　north　of　town；　just　a　few　minutes　away。〃　
　That　was　all　the　more　reason　to　get　there；　as　far　as　Holly　was　concerned。　
　She　was　tired　of　being　on　the　road。　
　But　she　sensed　that　for　some　reason　he　wanted　to　show　her　the　town　and　not　merely　to　delay　their　arrival　at　Ironheart　Farm。　Holly　acquiesced。　
　In　fact　she　listened　with　interest　to　what　he　had　to　tell　her。　She　had　learned　that　he　found　it　difficult　to　talk　about　himself　and　that　he　sometimes　made　personal　revelations　in　an　indirect　or　even　casual　manner。　
　He　drove　past　Handahl's　Pharmacy　on　the　east　end　of　Main　Street；　where　locals　went　to　get　a　prescription　filled；　unless　they　preferred　to　drive　twenty　miles　to　Solvang。　Handahl's　was　also　one　of　only　two　restaurants　in　town；　with　（according　to　Jim）　〃the　best　soda　fountain　this　side　of　1955。〃　It　was　also　the　post　office　and　only　newsstand。　With　its　multiply　peaked　roof；　verdigris…copper　cupola；　and　beveled…glass　windows；　it　was　an　appealing　enterprise。　
　Without　shutting　the　engine　off；　Jim　parked　across　the　street　from　the　library　on　Copenhagen　Lane；　which　was　quartered　in　one　of　the　smaller　Victorian　houses　with　considerably　less　gingerbread　than　most。　
　The　building　was　freshly　painted；　with　well…tended　shrubbery；　and　both　the　United　States　and　California　flags　fluttered　softly　on　a　tall　brass　pole　along　the　front　walkway。　It　looked　like　a　small　and　sorry　library　nonetheless。　
　〃A　town　this　size；　it's　amazing　to　find　a　library　at　all；〃　Jim　said。　
　〃And　thank　God　for　it。　I　rode　my　bike　to　the　library　so　often。　。　
　。　if　you　added　up　all　the　miles；　I　probably　pedaled　halfway　around　the　world。　After　my　folks　died；　books　were　my　friends；　counselors；　psychiatrists。　Books　kept　me　sane。　Mrs。　Glynn；　the　librarian；　was　a　great　lady；　she　knew　just　how　to　talk　to　a　shy；　mixed…up　kid　without　talking　down　to　him。　She　was　my　guide　to　the　most　exotic　regions　of　the　world　and　distant　times…all　without　leaving　her　aisles　of　books。〃　
　Holly　had　never　heard　him　speak　so　lovingly　or　half　so　lyrically　of　anything　before。　The　Svenborg　library　and　Mrs。　Glynn　had　clearly　been　lasting　and　favorable　influences　on　his　life。　
　〃Why　don't　we　go　in　and　say　hello　to　her？〃　Holly　suggested。　
　Jim　frowned。　〃Oh；　I'm　sure　she's　not　the　librarian　any　more；　most　likely　not　even　alive。　That　was　twenty…five　years　ago　when　I　started　ing　here；　eighteen　years　ago　when　I　left　town　to　go　to　college。　
　Never　saw　her　after　that。〃　
　〃How　old　was　she？〃　He　hesitated。　〃Quite　old；〃　he　said；　and　put　an　end　to　the　talk　of　a　nostalgic　visit　by　slipping　the　Ford　into　gear　and　driving　away　from　there。　
　They　cruised　by　Tivoli　Gardens；　a　small　park　at　the　corner　of　Main　and　Copenhagen；　which　fell　laughably　short　of　its　namesake。　No　fountains；　no　musicians；　no　dancing；　no　games；　no　beer　gardens。　There　were　just　some　roses；　a　few　beds　of　late…summer　flowers；　patchy　grass；　two　park　benches；　and　a　well…maintained　windmill　in　the　far　corner。　
　〃Why　aren't　the　sails　moving？〃　she　asked。　〃There's　some　wind。〃　
　〃None　of　the　mills　actually　pumps　water　or　grinds　grain　any　more；〃　he　explained。　〃And　since　they're　largely　decorative；　no　sense　in　having　to　live　with　the　noise　they　make。　Brakes　were　put　on　the　mechanisms　long　ago。〃　
　As　they　turned　the　corner　at　the　end　of　the　park；　he　added：　〃They　made　a　movie　here　once。〃　
　〃Who　did？〃　〃One　of　the　studios。〃　
　〃Hollywood　studio？〃　〃I　forget　which。〃　
　〃What　was　it　called？〃　〃Don't　remember。〃　
　〃Who　starred　in　it？〃　〃Nobody　famous。〃　
　Holly　made　a　mental　note　about　the　movie；　suspecting　that　it　was　more　important　to　Jim　and　to　the　town　than　he　had　said。　Something　in　the　offhanded　way　he'd　mentioned　it；　and　his　terse　responses　to　her　subsequent　questions；　alerted　her　to　an　unspoken　subtext。　
　Last　of　all；　at　the　southeast　corner　of　Svenborg；　he　drove　slowly　past　Zacca's　Garage；　a　large　corrugated…steel　Quonset　hut　perched　on　a　cement…block　foundation；　in　front　of　which　stood　two　dusty　cars。　Though　the　building　had　been　painted　several　times　during　its　history；　no　brush　had　touched　it　in　many　years。　Its　numerous　coats　of　paint　were　worn　in　a　random　patchwork　and　marked　by　liberal　encrustations　of　rust；　which　created　an　unintended　camouflage　finish。　The　cracked　blacktop　in　front　of　the　place　was　pitted　with　potholes　that　had　been　filled　with　loose　gravel；　and　the　surrounding　lot　bristled　with　dry　grass　and　weeds。　
　〃I　went　to　school　with　Ned　Zacca；〃　Jim　said。　〃His　dad；　Vernon；　had　the　garage　then。　It　was　never　a　business　to　make　a　man　rich；　but　it　looked　better　than　it　does　now。〃　
　The　big　airplane　hangar　style　roll…aside　doors　were　open；　and　the　interior　was　clotted　with　shadows。　The　rear　bumper　of　an　old　Chevy　gleamed　dully　in　the　gloom。　Although　the　garage　was　seedy；　nothing　about　it　suggested　danger。　Yet　the　queerest　chill　came　over　Holly　as　she　peered　through　the　hangar　doors　into　the　murky　depths　of　the　place。　
　〃Ned　was　one　mean　sonofabitch；　the　school　bully；〃　Jim　said。　〃He　could　sure　make　a　kid's　life　hell　when　he　wanted　to。　I　lived　in　fear　of　him。〃　
　〃Too　bad　you　didn't　know　Tae　Kwon　Do　then；　you　could've　kicked　his　ass。〃　
　He　did　not　smile；　just　stared　past　her　at　the　garage。　His　expression　was　odd　and　unsettling。　〃Yeah。　Too　bad。〃　
　When　she　glanced　at　the　building　again；　she　saw　a　man　in　jeans　and　a　T…shirt　step　out　of　the　deepest　darkness　into　gray　half　light；　moving　slowly　past　the　back　of　the　Chevy；　wiping　his　hands　on　a　rag。　He　was　just　beyond　the　infall　of　sunshine；　so　she　could　not　see　what　he　looked　like。　In　a　few　steps　he　rounded　the　car；　fading　into　the　gloom　again；　hardly　more　material　than　a　specter　glimpsed　in　a　moonlit　graveyard。　
　Somehow；　she　knew　the　ghostly　presence　in　the　Quonset　was　Ned　Zacca。　
　Curiously；　though　he　had　been　a　menacing　figure　to　Jim；　not　to　her；　Holly　felt　her　stomach　twist　and　her　palms　turn　damp。　
　Then　Jim　touched　the　accelerator；　and　they　were　past　the　garage；　heading　back　into　town。　
　〃What　did　Zacca　do　to　you　exactly？〃　〃Anything　he　could　think　of。　He　was　a　regular　little　sadist。　He's　been　in　prison　a　couple　of　times　since　those　days。　But　I　figured　he　was　back。〃　
　〃Figured？　How？〃　He　shrugged。　〃I　just　sensed　it。　Besides；　he's　one　of　those　guys　who　never　gets　caught　at　the　big　stuff　Devil's　luck。　He　might　do　a　fall　every　great　once　in　a　while；　but　always　for　something　small…time。　
　He's　dumb　but　he's　clever。〃　
　〃Why'd　you　want　to　go　there？〃　〃Memories。〃　
　〃Most　people；　when　they　want　a　little　nostalgia；　they're　only　interested　in　good　memories。〃　
　Jim　did　not　reply　to　that。　Even　before　they　arrived　in　Svenborg；　he　had　settled　into　himself　like　a　turtle　gradually　withdrawing　into　its　shell。　
　Now　he　was　almost　back　into　that　brooding；　distant　mood　in　which　she　had　found　him　yesterday　afternoon。　
　The　brief　tour　had　given　her　not　a　fortable　feeling　of　small…town　security　and　friendliness；　but　a　sense　of　being　cut　off　at　the　back　end　of　nowhere。　She　was　still　in　California；　the　most　populous　state　in　the　union；　not　much　farther　than　sixty　miles　from　the　city　of　Santa　Barbara。　
　Svenborg　had　almost　two　thousand　people　of　its　own；　which　made　it　bigger　than　a　lot　of　gas…and…graze　stops　along　the　interstate　highways。　The　sense　of　isolation　was　more　psychological　than　real；　but　it　hovered　over　her。　
　Jim　stopped　at　The　Central；　a　prospering　operation　that　included　a　service　station　selling　generic　gasoline；　a　small　sporting…goods　outlet　peddling　supplies　to　fishermen　and　campers；　and　a　well…stocked　convenience　store　with　groceries；　beer；　and　wine。　Holly　filled　the　Ford's　tank　at　the　self　service　pump；　then　joined　Jim　in　the　sporting…goods　shop。　
　The　store　was　cluttered　with　merchandise；　which　overflowed　the　shelves；　hung　from　the　ceiling；　and　was　stacked　on　the　linoleum　floor。　
　'　Wall…eyed　fishing　lur