rekindled(英文版)-第38部分

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to　her　parents。　They　had　been　understanding　and　solicitous　during　her
grief　It　occurred　to　her　that　they　would　want　to　know　when　she　was
happy。

For　she　was　happy。　Knowing　that　Mitch　would　be　with　her　in　Vermont；　she
could　face　just　about　anything　else　that　arose。　His　giving　her　the　key
was　a　significant　gesture。　Now　she　had　a　steady　tie　to　the　place。

Since　returning　this　last　time；　she　had　changed。　For　one　thing；　she　had
finally　been　able　to　pack　up　Jeff's　things。　For　another；　she　was　smiling
more；　laughing　more；　eating　more。　For　a　third；　she　was　going　out　more
with　old　friends。

Strange。　For　so　much　of　the　last　year　her　apartment　had　been　her　private
retreat；　her　sanctuary　when　she　couldn't　face　the　world。　Lately；　though；
it　was　nearly　as　lonely　as　it　had　been　in　the　dreadful　days　following
the　crash。

She　missed　Mitch。　The　longing　grew　with　each　day　that　passed；　until　her
only　refuge　was　in　work　and　the　pany　of　others。　Even　then；　he　was
never　far　from　her　mind。

Now；　with　mud　streaks　covering　the　bottom　half　of　her　once…bright　yellow
car；　she　turned　onto　the　familiar　private　road。　Twice　her　tires　began　to
spin　in　the　muck；　twice　she　was　able　to　back　down　and　charge　forward
around　the　offending　mud　hole。

It　was　early　Wednesday　afternoon。　Mitch　wasn't　due　up　until　late　Friday。
Everything　seemed　larger；　emptier；　and　more　silent　without　him；　but　she
wasn't　lonely。　His　mark　was　in　every　room　of　the　house；　surrounding　her
in　a　promising　cloak。

In　his　absence；　she　applied　herself　to　menial　tasks　like　dusting；
mopping；　scrubbing　sinks　and　the　top　of　the　stove。　Oh；　she　had　brought
several　translations　to　do；　but　she　didn't　touch　either。　She　wasn't　in
the　mood　to　concentrate。

During　those　two　days；　she　did　more　baking　than　she　had　in　the　past　two
years。　She　baked　bread。　She　baked　muffins。　She　baked　cookies。　Something
about　the　rural　life　was　conducive　to　it。

Same　with　hiking。　Despite　the　mud；　she　did　it　daily。　Without　a　motor
humming；　she　could　better　hear　sounds　of　the　world　emerging　from　winter。
The　first　of　the　geese　honked　as　they　flew　in　formation　through　a　pale
blue　sky。　The　tallest　of　the　tree　branches　stretched　and　flexed　in　the
gusting　wind。　Squirrels　scurried。　Woodpeckers　pecked。　The　ground
squished。

The　snow　was　gone；　and　the　woodland　hadn't　leafed　out。　But　naked　boughs
stood　straighter；　heraking　their　resurgence。　Even　the　leggy　lilacs　by
the　cabin's　front　door　stood　proudly　in　promise　of　fragrant　blossoms。

Friday　night　came　and　went　with　no　sign　of　Mitch。

Anne　was　devastated。　She　had　cooked　a　chicken　dinner　and　opened　a　bottle
of　wine。　The　house　was　spotless　and　polished。　She　had　showered　and
dressed　in　a　pair　of　soft　wool　slacks　and　a　paisley　print　blouse；　had
brushed　her　hair　to　a　high　luster　and　draped　it　over　her　shoulders。
Though　the　soft　pink　glow　on　her　cheeks　needed　no　help；　she　had
carefully　applied　a　sheen　of　lavender　to　her　eyelids　and　a　coat　of
mascara　to　her　lashes。　On　the　third　finger　of　her　right　hand　was　the
exquisite　enameled　ring　he　had　given　her。

Well　after　midnight；　she　wrapped　the　food　and　cleaned　up　the　kitchen。　At
two　in　the　morning；　she　went　to　bed；　but　she　barely　slept。　One　ear
listened；　always　listened　for　the　sound　of　a　car。　It　never　came。

Saturday　morning；　she　was　heavy…eyed　and　disturbed。　She　went　through　all
the　possible　explanations　for　his　failure　to　appear。　He　might　have　been
hung　up　with　business　and　unable　to　reach　her。　He　might　have　forgotten
that　she　would　be　waiting。　He　might　have　decided　not　to　e　at　all。　Now
that　she　had　a　key；　she　didn't　need　him　to　let　her　in。

The　minutes　crept　by；　one　after　another；　after　another。　By　late
afternoon；　when　there　was　still　no　sign　of　the　Honda；　Anne　was　convinced
that　she　had　simply　blown　the　relationship　into　something　it　wasn't。

Then　came　the　blare　of　a　horn。　She　ran　from　the　window　seat　in　the
kitchen　to　the　front　door。　But　it　wasn't　his　horn…she　had　known　that
instantly。　While　everything　about　Mitch　oozed　of　charm；　this　sound
carried　the　rough　edge　of　a　local　pickup　truck。

〃Mrs。　Boulton？〃　barked　a　gruff　voice。　The　stocky　form　of　a　farmer；　clad
in　heavy　wool　jacket；　baggy　overalls；　and　aged　work　boots；　stepped　from
the　cab　of　the　truck　and　strode　toward　her。

〃Yes？〃　She　didn't　recognize　the　man。

〃Gut　a　message　for　ya。　From　a　fella　named　Cooper。　Phoned　the　police
station。　Sorry　for　the　delay。〃　He　handed　the　crumpled　paper　into　Anne's
outstretched　hand；　touched　a　callused　hand　to　his　cap's　bill；　climbed
back　in　his　truck；　and　was　gone。

Nervously　she　unfolded　the　paper。　The　scrawl　was　nearly　illegible。
〃Unavoidable　delay。　Mitch　arriving　Sunday　night。　Miles　Cooper。〃

With　a　tired　sigh　she　cast　a　glance　down　the　empty　road。　Another　whole
day　to　wait。　Unavoidable　delay。　She　wondered　what　that　meant　but　it
didn't　keep　her　awake　that　night。　Exhausted　from　the　night　before；　she
slept　deeply。

Sunday　brought　rain；　and　a　dark；　gloomy　day。　Anne　went　out　for　a　walk
anyway；　did　a　crossword　puzzle；　sat　at　the　window　for　what　seemed　hours。
By　midafternoon；　she　was　champing　at　the　bit。　With　neither　cleaning　nor
baking　left　to　do；　she　did　some　translating。　When　she　finally　heard　a
distant　car；　the　dim　light　of　day　had　long　since　yielded　to　night。　But
the　growing　purr　was　familiar。　Without　doubt；　it　was　the　Honda。

Excited；　she　opened　the　front　door。　It　seemed　an　eternity　before　he
finally　climbed　from　the　car；　wrested　his　bags　from　the　trunk；　and
bolted　through　the　rain　toward　the　house。　When　he　brushed　past　her
without　a　direct　glance；　she　knew　something　was　wrong。

She　closed　the　door　on　the　rawness　of　the　night；　and　turned　to　see　him
drop　the　bags；　throw　off　his　overcoat；　and　head　for　the　fire；　all
without　a　word。　Unsure；　she　sank　down　on　the　sofa　and　waited。

The　man　reached　out　to　her　both　physically　and　emotionally。　He　wore　a
beige　sweater　and　brown　corduroy　slacks；　and　looked　as　strong　and　fit　as
ever。　But　it　was　the　fatigue；　suggested　by　his　bent　head　and　the　limp
hand　in　his　pocket；　that　made　the　greatest　impression　on　her。　She　ached
to　help；　but　she　feared　rebuff。　So　she　remained　silent。

For　a　time；　frowning　at　the　fire；　Mitch　seemed　oblivious　to　her
presence。　Needing　to　make　some　small　gesture；　she　went　quietly　to　the
kitchen　and　returned　with　a　mug　of　strong　black　coffee。

〃Have　something　hot；　Mitch。　It　was　a　long　drive。〃

He　looked　at　her　so　suddenly　that　she　knew　his　mind　had　been　miles　away。
Without　a　word　of　either　greeting　or　explanation；　he　accepted　the　cup
and　returned　to　his　brooding。　Again　Anne　waited；　fearing　what　was　wrong；
but　needing　to　be　there。

Finally；　he　put　his　head　back；　drew　in　a　great　breath；　straightened；　and
turned。　His　eyes　were　tired；　his　face　more　drawn　than　she　remembered　it。
He　drank　the　last　of　his　coffee　and　set　the　mug　on　the　mantel。　His　smile
was　wan；　but　it　was　a　smile。　〃You're　looking　well。〃

She　rested　her　chin　on　her　knees；　which　were　drawn　up　and　held　by　her
arms。　〃I　have　been；　thanks　to　you。　The　antibiotic　did　the　trick。〃

〃No　more　trouble？〃　When　she　shook　her　head；　he　said；　〃That's　good；〃　and
looked　back　at　the　fire。

〃What's　wrong；　Mitch？〃

He　shot　her　a　dry　look。　〃Don't　ask。　I　wouldn't　know　where　to　begin。〃

〃Was　it　a　bad　drive　up？〃

〃The　usual。〃

A　silence　followed。

〃I　received　the　message；〃　she　tried。　〃Thanks　for　sending　it。〃

〃I　didn't　want　you　waiting。〃

Or　worrying；　she　added　silently；　bitterly。　His　aloofness　scared　her。　It
suggested　he　hadn't　wanted　to　e　at　all。　Perhaps　he　even　regretted
having　given　her　the　key。

〃Would　you　like　me　to　leave；　Mitch？〃

He　looked　at　her　like　she　was　deft。　〃Of　course　not。　Why　do　you　suggest
that？〃

〃Because　you're　two　days　late；　then　you　walk　in　here　like　a　zombie　and
stare　at　the　fire。　It　occurs　to　me　that　you　might　just　want　your　house
to　yourself〃

〃If　I　had　wanted　that；　I'd　never　have　given　you　a　key　to　the　place。〃

〃Why　did　you？　I　keep　asking　myself　that；　but　I　can't　e　up　with　a　good
answer。〃

〃I　wanted　you　to　have　access　to　the　place　whenever　you　wanted。〃

Gewhy？〃

〃That's　a　crazy　question。〃

〃And　this　is　a　crazy　situation。〃

He　went　to　the　front　window　and　stared　out　at　the　darkness。　〃I　never
promised　you　more。〃

Well；　he　was　right。　A　heavy　weight　settled　in　Anne's　stomach。　Head
bowed；　she　rose　from　the　sofa；　reached　for　the　empty　mug；　and　headed　for
the　kitchen。　At　the　door；　she　stopped；　but　she　didn't　turn。　〃Have　you
had　any　supper？〃

〃No。〃

〃I'll　make　something。〃

〃That's　not　necessary。〃

〃I'll　do　it。〃

Five　minutes　later；　she　sat　across　from　him　and　watched　him　down　the
club　sandwich　that　she　had　made　with　the　chicken　that　had　gone　uneaten
on　Friday　night。　Conversation　was　sparse　and　cryptic；　pounding　her
frustration。　〃Thank　you；〃　he　said　when　only　crumbs　remained。　〃That　hit
the　spot。〃

〃I'm　glad　I've　finally　done　something　right；〃　she　murmured；　standing　to
clear　the　dishes。

He　caught　her　hand。　〃What's　that　supposed　to　mean？〃

〃I　think　you　know。〃　She　freed　her　hand　and　she　continued　to　the　sink。

Suddenly　he　was　directly　behind　her。　〃You've　been　vague　about　something
for　the　last　hour。　What　is　it？〃

Fiercely；　she　scrubbed　at　the　dish。

〃You're　angry　because　I　showed　up　late？〃

〃No。〃

〃What　else　could　it　be？　I　sent　word。　I　even　did　it　through　Miles　so　you
wouldn't　worry　that　I　knew　your　last　name。〃

〃That's　not　bothering　me。〃

He　turned　her　around。　〃Look　at　me；　Anne。〃

Her　hands　dripped　of　soap。　She　held　them　out　to　the　sides。

〃I　want　you　to　tell　me　what's　wrong；〃　he　insisted；　and　she　was　suddenly
angry。

〃Why？　I　don't　owe　you　an　explanation　for　my　behavior；　any　more　than　you
owe　me　one　for　yours！〃

His　eyes　held　hers　for　long　minutes。　〃Ah。　That's　it。　You　want　an
explanation　for　my　lateness；　like　this　is　some　kind　of　a　business
meeting。〃

〃I　don't　want　a　thing！〃　she　cried；　whipping　out　of　his　grasp　to　dry　her
hands　on　the　towel。　She　thrust　a　damp　rag　into　his　hand。　〃Here。　You
finish　cleaning。　I'm　going　to　bed。〃

She　held　off　tears　until　she　was　safely　up　in　her　attic　room　and　sure　of
not　being　followed。　Then　they　came　with　a　vengeance。　She　had　loved　Jeff
and　lost　him；　through　powers　that　were　beyond　her。　Now　it　was　happ