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"After he was gone and she went away, I took out the furniture. It's in the front bedroom next to Great Nananne's. That's
where I've slept ever since."
"I can imagine why," said Aaron comfortingly. "It must have been dreadful for you to lose them both."
"Now Matthew was always good to us all," she continued, "I wish he had been my father, lot of good it would do me
now. He was in the hospital and out of it, and then the doctors stopped coming because he was drunk all the time and
shouted at them, and then he just choked out his last."
"And had Cold Sandra already gone?" Aaron asked gently. He had laid his hand on the table beside her own.
"She was out all the time at the barroom down on the corner, and after they threw her out of that one, she went to the
one on the big street. The night he started to go, I ran down two blocks and over there to get her, and banged on the back
screen door for her to come out. She was too drunk to walk.
"She was sitting there with this handsome white man, and he was just in love with her, you know, adoring her. I could
see it. And she was so drunk she couldn't stand up. And then it hit me. She didn't want to see Matthew go. She was afraid
to be at his side when it happened. She wasn't being hard-hearted. She was just really scared. So I came running back.
"Great Nananne was washing his face and giving him his Scotch, that's what he drank all the time, he wouldn't have any
other kind of drink, and he was choking and choking, and we just sat by him till sometime about dawn, the choking
stopped, and his breathing got very steady, so steady you could have set a clock by it, just up and down, up and down.
"It was a real relief that he wasn't choking. But Great Nananne shook her head to mean no good. Then his breathing got
so low you couldn't see or hear it. His chest stopped moving. And Great Nananne told me he was dead."
She paused long enough to drink the rest of her coffee, then she stood up, pushing the chair back carelessly, and took
the pot from the stove and gave us all some more of the heavy brew to drink.
She sat down again and ran her tongue along her lip, a habit with her. She seemed a child in all these gestures, perhaps
because of the convent-school way in which she sat up straight in her chair and folded her arms.
"You know, it's nice having you listen to this," she said looking from me to Aaron. "I never told anyone all about it. Just
the little things. He left Cold Sandra plenty of money.
"She came home around noon the next day and demanded to know where they'd taken him, and started screaming and
throwing things and saying we never should have called for the morgue to take him away.
"'And what did you think we were going to do with him?' Great Nananne asked. 'You don't think they have a law in this
town about dead bodies? You think we can just take him out and bury him in the backyard?' Turned out his people in
Boston came and got him, and soon as Cold Sandra saw that check, you know, the money he'd left her, she was out of this
house and gone.
"Of course I didn't know it was going to be the last time I ever saw her. All I knew was that she had packed up some of
her clothes in a new red leather suitcase, and she was dressed like a model from a magazine, in a white silk suit. Her hair
was pulled back to a bun on the back of her head. She was so beautiful she didn't need any makeup, but she had put some
dark-violet eye shadow above her eyelashes and a dark color, like violet, too, I think, on her lips. I knew that dark violet
meant trouble. She looked so beautiful.
"She kissed me and she gave me a bottle of Chanel No. 22 perfume. She said that was for me. She told me she'd be
coming back for me. She told me she was going out to buy a car, she was driving out of here. She said, 'If I can just get
across that spillway without drowning, I can get out of this town.' "
Merrick broke off for a moment, her eyebrows knitted, her mouth slightly open. Then she began again.
"'The hell you'll come back for her.' That's what Great Nananne told her. 'You've never done anything except run wild
and let that child run wild, well, she's staying here with me, and you go to Hell.'"
Once again, she stopped. Her girlish face grew quiet. I was afraid she was going to cry. I think that she swallowed the
tears very deliberately. Then she spoke again, clearing her throat a little. I could hardly make out the words.
"Think she went to Chicago," she said.
Aaron waited respectfully while the silence filled the old kitchen. I picked up my coffee and drank deeply again,
savoring the taste of it, as much out of respect for her as for the pleasure.
"You're ours, darling," I said.
"Oh, I know, Mr. Talbot," she answered in a small voice, and, without moving the focus of her eyes from some distant
point, she lifted her right hand and laid it on mine. I never forgot the gesture. It was as if she was comforting me.
Then she spoke. "Well, Great Nananne knows now. She knows whether my mother is alive or dead."
"Yes, she knows," I answered, avowing my belief before I could think the better of it. "And whatever she knows, she's
at peace."
There was a quiet interval in which I became painfully conscious of Merrick's suffering, and of the noises of the
Talamasca acolytes who were moving every object in the place. I heard the grinding noise of the large statues being
dragged or pushed. I heard the sound of packing tape being stretched and torn.
"I loved that man, Matthew," said Merrick softly. "I really loved him. He taught me how to read the Book of Magic. He
taught me how to read all the books that Oncle Vervain had left. He liked to look at the pictures I showed you. He was an
interesting man."
There was another long pause. Something in the atmosphere of the house disturbed me. I was confused by what I was
feeling. It had nothing to do with normal noises or activity. And it seemed imperative suddenly that I conceal this
disturbance from Merrick, that such a thing, whatever it was, not trouble her at this time.
It was as if someone altogether new and different had entered the house, and one could hear that person's stealthy
movements. It was the sense of a coherent presence. I wiped it from my mind, never for a moment fearing it, and keeping
my eyes on Merrick, when, in a daze of sorts, she began to speak rather rapidly and tonelessly again.
"Up in Boston, Matthew had studied history and science. He knew all about Mexico and the jungles. He told me the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
"After he was gone and she went away, I took out the furniture. It's in the front bedroom next to Great Nananne's. That's
where I've slept ever since."
"I can imagine why," said Aaron comfortingly. "It must have been dreadful for you to lose them both."
"Now Matthew was always good to us all," she continued, "I wish he had been my father, lot of good it would do me
now. He was in the hospital and out of it, and then the doctors stopped coming because he was drunk all the time and
shouted at them, and then he just choked out his last."
"And had Cold Sandra already gone?" Aaron asked gently. He had laid his hand on the table beside her own.
"She was out all the time at the barroom down on the corner, and after they threw her out of that one, she went to the
one on the big street. The night he started to go, I ran down two blocks and over there to get her, and banged on the back
screen door for her to come out. She was too drunk to walk.
"She was sitting there with this handsome white man, and he was just in love with her, you know, adoring her. I could
see it. And she was so drunk she couldn't stand up. And then it hit me. She didn't want to see Matthew go. She was afraid
to be at his side when it happened. She wasn't being hard-hearted. She was just really scared. So I came running back.
"Great Nananne was washing his face and giving him his Scotch, that's what he drank all the time, he wouldn't have any
other kind of drink, and he was choking and choking, and we just sat by him till sometime about dawn, the choking
stopped, and his breathing got very steady, so steady you could have set a clock by it, just up and down, up and down.
"It was a real relief that he wasn't choking. But Great Nananne shook her head to mean no good. Then his breathing got
so low you couldn't see or hear it. His chest stopped moving. And Great Nananne told me he was dead."
She paused long enough to drink the rest of her coffee, then she stood up, pushing the chair back carelessly, and took
the pot from the stove and gave us all some more of the heavy brew to drink.
She sat down again and ran her tongue along her lip, a habit with her. She seemed a child in all these gestures, perhaps
because of the convent-school way in which she sat up straight in her chair and folded her arms.
"You know, it's nice having you listen to this," she said looking from me to Aaron. "I never told anyone all about it. Just
the little things. He left Cold Sandra plenty of money.
"She came home around noon the next day and demanded to know where they'd taken him, and started screaming and
throwing things and saying we never should have called for the morgue to take him away.
"'And what did you think we were going to do with him?' Great Nananne asked. 'You don't think they have a law in this
town about dead bodies? You think we can just take him out and bury him in the backyard?' Turned out his people in
Boston came and got him, and soon as Cold Sandra saw that check, you know, the money he'd left her, she was out of this
house and gone.
"Of course I didn't know it was going to be the last time I ever saw her. All I knew was that she had packed up some of
her clothes in a new red leather suitcase, and she was dressed like a model from a magazine, in a white silk suit. Her hair
was pulled back to a bun on the back of her head. She was so beautiful she didn't need any makeup, but she had put some
dark-violet eye shadow above her eyelashes and a dark color, like violet, too, I think, on her lips. I knew that dark violet
meant trouble. She looked so beautiful.
"She kissed me and she gave me a bottle of Chanel No. 22 perfume. She said that was for me. She told me she'd be
coming back for me. She told me she was going out to buy a car, she was driving out of here. She said, 'If I can just get
across that spillway without drowning, I can get out of this town.' "
Merrick broke off for a moment, her eyebrows knitted, her mouth slightly open. Then she began again.
"'The hell you'll come back for her.' That's what Great Nananne told her. 'You've never done anything except run wild
and let that child run wild, well, she's staying here with me, and you go to Hell.'"
Once again, she stopped. Her girlish face grew quiet. I was afraid she was going to cry. I think that she swallowed the
tears very deliberately. Then she spoke again, clearing her throat a little. I could hardly make out the words.
"Think she went to Chicago," she said.
Aaron waited respectfully while the silence filled the old kitchen. I picked up my coffee and drank deeply again,
savoring the taste of it, as much out of respect for her as for the pleasure.
"You're ours, darling," I said.
"Oh, I know, Mr. Talbot," she answered in a small voice, and, without moving the focus of her eyes from some distant
point, she lifted her right hand and laid it on mine. I never forgot the gesture. It was as if she was comforting me.
Then she spoke. "Well, Great Nananne knows now. She knows whether my mother is alive or dead."
"Yes, she knows," I answered, avowing my belief before I could think the better of it. "And whatever she knows, she's
at peace."
There was a quiet interval in which I became painfully conscious of Merrick's suffering, and of the noises of the
Talamasca acolytes who were moving every object in the place. I heard the grinding noise of the large statues being
dragged or pushed. I heard the sound of packing tape being stretched and torn.
"I loved that man, Matthew," said Merrick softly. "I really loved him. He taught me how to read the Book of Magic. He
taught me how to read all the books that Oncle Vervain had left. He liked to look at the pictures I showed you. He was an
interesting man."
There was another long pause. Something in the atmosphere of the house disturbed me. I was confused by what I was
feeling. It had nothing to do with normal noises or activity. And it seemed imperative suddenly that I conceal this
disturbance from Merrick, that such a thing, whatever it was, not trouble her at this time.
It was as if someone altogether new and different had entered the house, and one could hear that person's stealthy
movements. It was the sense of a coherent presence. I wiped it from my mind, never for a moment fearing it, and keeping
my eyes on Merrick, when, in a daze of sorts, she began to speak rather rapidly and tonelessly again.
"Up in Boston, Matthew had studied history and science. He knew all about Mexico and the jungles. He told me the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]