按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
The strain was beginning to tell on her。 Her resistance was wearing away。 Her nerves were slowly being drawn taut； a little more so each day。 She was nearing a danger…point； she knew。 She couldn't stand very much more of it。 It wasn't when they came； it was in…between； waiting for the next one to e。 The longer it took to e； the greater her tension； instead of the less。 It was like that well…known simile of the second dropped shoe； prolonged ad infinitum。
She couldn't stand much more of it。 〃If there's another one；〃 she told herself； 〃something will snap。 Don't let there be another one。 Don't。〃
She looked at herself in the glass。 Not through vanity； conceit； to see whether damage had been done her looks。 To confirm； objectively； the toll that was being taken。 Her face was pale and worn。 It was growing thinner again； losing its roundness； growing back toward that gauntness of cheek it had had in New York。 Her eyes were a little too shadowed underneath； and just a little too bright。 She looked tired and frightened。 Not acutely so； but chronically。 And that was what was being done to her by this。
She dressed herself； and then Hughie； and carried him down with her。 It was so pleasant in the dining…room； in the early morning like this。 The new…minted sun pouring in； the color of champagne； the crisp chintz curtains； the cheery colored ware on the table； the fragrant aroma of the coffee…pot； the savory odor of fresh…made toast seeping through the napkin thrown over it to keep it warm。 Mother Hazzard's flowers in the center of the table； always less than an hour old； picked from her garden at the back。 Mother Hazzard herself； spruce and gay in her printed morning…dress； beaming at her。 Home。 Peace。
〃Leave me in peace；〃 she pleaded inwardly。 〃Let me be。 Let me have all this。 Let me enjoy it； as it's meant to be enjoyed； as it's waiting around to be enjoyed。 Don't take it from me； let me keep it。〃
She went around the table to her and kissed her； and held Hughie out to her to be kissed。 Then she settled him in his highchair； between the two of them； and sat down herself。
Then she saw them； waiting for her。
The one on top was a department…store sales brochure； sealed in an envelope。 She could identify it by the letterhead in the upper corner。 But there was something under it； another one。 Its corners stuck out a little past the top one。
She was afraid to bring it into fuller view； she postponed it。
She spooned Hughie's cereal to his mouth； took alternating sips of her own fruit juice。 It was poisoning the meal； it was tightening up her nerves。
It mightn't be one of those； it might be something else。 Her hand moved with a jerk； and the department…store folder was out of the way。
〃MRS。 PATRICE HAZZARD。〃
It was addressed in pen and ink； a personal letter。 She never got letters like that from anyone； who wrote to her； whom did she know？ It must be； it was； one of those again。 She felt a sick； cold feeling in her stomach。 She took in everything about it； with a sort of hypnotic fascination。 The three…cent purple stamp； with wavy cancellationlines running through it。 Then the circular postmark itself； off to the side。 It had been posted late； after twelve last night。 Where？ She wondered。 By whom？ She could see in her mind's eye an indistinct； furtive figure slinking up to a street mall…box in the dark； a hand hastily thrusting something into the chute； the clang as the slot fell closed again。
She wanted to get it out of here； take it upstairs with her； close the door。 But if she carried it away with her unopened； wouldn't that look secretive； wouldn't that call undue attention to it？ It was safe enough to open it here in the very room； they never pried in this house； they never asked questions。 She knew she could even have left it lying around open after having read it herself； and it would have been safe； nobody would have put a hand to it。
She ran her knife through the flap； slit it。
Mother Hazzard had taken over Hughie's feeding； she had eyes for no one but him。 Every mouthful brought forth a paean of praise。
She'd opened the once…folded inner sheet now。 The flowers were in the way； they screened the shaking of her hand。 So blank it was； so much waste space； so little writing。 Just a line across the middle of the paper； where the crease ran。
〃WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE？〃
She could feel her chest constricting。 She tried to quell the sudden inordinate quickness of her breathing； lest it betray itself。
Mother Hazzard was showing Hughie his plate。 〃All gone。 Hughie ate it all up！ Where is it？〃
She'd lowered it into her lap now。 She managed to get it back into its envelope； and fold that over； singly and then doubly； until it fitted into the span of her hand。
〃One more and something will snap。〃 And here it was； the one more。
She could feel her self…control ebbing away； and didn't know what catastrophic form its loss might take。 〃I've got to get out of this room；〃 she warned herself。 〃I've got to get away from this table… now…quickly！〃
She stood up suddenly； stumbling a little over her chair。 She turned and left the table without a word。
〃Patrice； aren't you going to have your coffee？〃
〃I'll be right down；〃 she said smotheredly； from the other side of the doorway。 〃I forgot something。〃
She got up there； into her room； and got the door closed。
It was like the bursting of a dam。 She hadn't known what form it would take。 Tears； she'd thought； or high…pitched hysterical laughter。 It was neither。 It was anger； a paroxysm of rage； blinded and baffled and helpless。
She went over to the wall and flailed with upraised fists against it； held high over her head。 And then around to the next wall and the next and the next； like somebody seeking an outlet； crying out distractedly： 〃Who are you yourself？ Where are you sending them from？ Why don't you e out？ Why don't you e out in the open？ Why don't you e out where I can see you？ Why don't you e out and give me a chance to fight back？〃
Until at last she'd stopped； wilted and breathing fast with spent emotion。 In its wake came sudden determination。 There was only one way to fight back； only one way she had to rob the attacks of their power to harm…
She flung the door open。 She started down the stairs again。 Still as tearless as she'd gone up。 She was going fast； she was rippling down them in a quick…step。 She was still holding it in her hand。 She opened it up； back to its full size； and started smoothing it out as she went。
She came back into the dining…room still at the same gait she'd used on the stairs。
〃…drank all his milk like a good boy；〃 Mother Hazzard was crooning。
Patrice moved swiftly around the table toward her； stopped short beside her。
〃I want to show you something；〃 she said tersely。 〃I want you to see this。〃
She put it down on the table squarely in front of her and stood there waiting。
〃Just a moment； dear； let me find my glasses；〃 Mother Hazzard purred acquiescently。 She probed here and there among the breakfast things。 〃I know I had them with me when Father was here at the table； we were both reading the paper。〃 She looked over toward the buffet on the other side of her。
Patrice stood there waiting。 She looked over at Hughie。 He was still holding his spoon； entire fist folded possessively around it。 He flapped it at her joyously。 Home。 Peace。
Suddenly she'd reached over to her own place at the table； picked up the department…store circular still lying there； replaced the first letter with that。
〃Here they are； under my napkin。 Right in front of me the whole time。〃 Mother Hazzard adjusted them； turned back to her。 〃Now what was it； dear？〃 She opened the folder and looked at it。
Patrice pointed。 〃This pattern； right here。 The first one。 Isn't it… attractive？〃
Behind her back； held in one hand； the abducted missive slowly crumpled； deflated； was sucked between her fingers into pressed invisibility。
29
Quietly and deftly she moved about the dimly lighted room； passing back and forth； and forth and back； with armfuls of belongings from the drawers。 Hughie lay sleeping in his crib； and the clock said almost one。
The valise stood open on a chair。 Even that wasn't hers。 It was the one she'd first used on the train…ride here； new…looking as ever； the one with 〃PH〃 on its rounded corner。 She'd have to borrow it。 Just as she was borrowing the articles she picked at random； to throw into it。 Just as she was borrowing the very clothes she stood in。 There were only two things in this whole room with her now that were rightfully hers。 That little bundle sleeping quietly there in the crib。 And that seventeen cents lying spread out on a scrap of paper on the dresser…top。
She took things for him； mostly。 Things he needed； things to keep him warm。 They wouldn't mind； they wouldn't begrudge that； they loved him almost as much as she did； she reasoned ruefully。 She quickened her movements； as if the danger of faltering in purpose lay somewhere along this train of thought if she lingered on it too long。
For herself she took very little； only what was of absolute necessity。 Underthings； an extra pair or two of stockings…
Things； things。 What did things matter； when