Moon Garden. V. J. Banis

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СКАЧАТЬ bougainvillea and from the terrace she could see a path running into the trees. This, she decided, glancing around to get her bearings, would be the path down to the river.

      She took it, strolling idly. It was shady, and when the summer heat was really up it would be a delight to escape it here. Fallen leaves from other seasons made a soft, thick carpet underneath, and the air had a damp, earthy smell that was soothing. She thought that it must have been from here that she had heard those voices and seen the light during the night.

      If, she thought, frowning, there had been any voices, or any light. Or had they too been a part of her strange dream?

      The path twisted through the trees, breaking for a moment at a clearing lush with honeysuckle. Here the way divided, one fork running uphill, the other continuing down.

      The one that went up, she thought looking in that direction, must go up to the yellow cottage she had seen through the trees, though she could not see it from here. She continued on the path down to the river, past a magnolia tree. A blossom seemed to pause briefly in its descent from tree to ground.

      The carpeting of leaves made her steps silent. She came in sight of the water, a small inlet, a miniature cove that branched off the river. A crude little dock, the wood old and gray, had been built into the water from the muddy bank.

      The water too was gray, and deep green, and dappled with yellow where the sunlight broke through the trees. The perfumes of honeysuckle and magnolia, and the ripe earth, blended with a river scent, assaulting the nostrils. The stillness was broken by the trilling of a bird somewhere in the trees, and a gentle lapping of water against the wooden pilings.

      She was not alone after all. There was a man on the dock, his back to her. A young man, slim, with muscles rippling over his back where his shirt was stretched taut. His hair gleamed a silvery-yellow in the sun. He knelt at the end of the wooden planking, bending far forward to look at something.

      He did not hear her, of course, because her approach was so noiseless, and because he was so absorbed in whatever it was he was examining. Since he was so quiet, she herself could not think to make any noise, or announce her presence. She came on down the path, watching him, thinking he might be some splendid river god, just a minute before having risen up from the waters to dry himself in the sunlight.

      She stepped onto the rotted wood of the dock, and then he heard her, or perhaps, felt her presence. His reaction was sudden and startling. He seemed in one violent movement to stand and turn, like a skater making a stupendous leap.

      He was suddenly facing her, but it was not that alone that startled her. It was the way he was facing her. He was crouched slightly, ready to spring, and his hands at his side were half clenched. He was an animal, surprised in his lair, ready in an instant to defend against attack.

      She was nearly as surprised to see him. She looked at that long, oval face with the pale blue eyes that seemed to blaze with a light from within, and recognized him at once.

      She had seen him only a few days before, in Cincinnati. Then, he had been following her across the fountain square, watching her so closely that he had collided with another woman.

      CHAPTER SIX

      It was a strange way to meet. She did not know which was the most awkward, that sudden attitude of hostility, or the air of embarrassment that followed it.

      She felt quite foolish, as if she had done something wrong but did not exactly know what it was. She gazed into those blue, blue eyes, the most striking she had ever seen, and could think of nothing to say. Something about the moment made her shiver.

      It passed. He relaxed, and grinned too brightly. “Hello,” he said. “You must be Miss Miles’ niece.”

      She nodded, wishing she could think of a clever reply. She had always admired women who could do that with ease. She felt all hands and feet.

      He, however, seemed to have no difficulty. He moved away from the spot where he had been standing, coming closer to her, so close that it looked as if he meant to embrace her, and stopped just in front of her.

      “I’m Ken Parker, he said. “A neighbor, sort of. I rent the Creighton’s guest house up the hill there. The little yellow house.”

      “We’ve met before,” she said, “in a manner of speaking.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “Have we? I don’t recall.” With a smile, he added, “And I’m sure I would remember you.”

      “It was only a few days ago. We didn’t really meet, we just saw one another across the square. In Cincinnati.”

      He looked puzzled. “I don’t think so.”

      She felt embarrassed. She saw how he or anyone else would see it. He had not even noticed her, just another girl crossing a square, who happened ever so fleetingly to catch his eye. While she, poor foolish creature, acted as if the scene were emblazoned on her heart.

      “It was very brief,” she stammered, feeling increasingly foolish with each word. “You ran into a woman with her arms filled with packages. Perhaps you didn’t even see me, but I saw you.”

      He shook his head. “Cincinnati, you say? Then you must be mistaken. I’ve never been to that city, that I recall. Certainly not in the past few days.”

      He smiled apologetically. She looked mortified. “But it was...,” she began, and stopped herself

      She knew how wrong her own impressions could be. She hadn’t the confidence in her memory or judgment to defend it in an argument. She had recently spent a year at a mental hospital because her thought processes couldn’t be trusted. And the trouble wasn’t all that far away, either. There was last night too, the door she had thought was locked, when apparently it hadn’t been, the voices she’d imagined she heard...she was mortified to have exposed herself as such a fool before a perfect stranger.

      “I’m sorry.” She looked down at her shoes. “I must have been mistaken.”

      “No, it is I who am sorry. I would like to have seen you before. I wish this were only one of many meetings, and that we were already well enough acquainted that you wouldn’t look as if you would jump into the river if I tried to touch you.”

      She tried not to be flattered too much by that remark, and then not to laugh as she envisioned what he had described, but despite herself, the corners of her mouth turned up.

      “That’s better.” He put his hand on her arm, and she did in fact start a little, but she did not jump into the water. “Come on, I’ll walk you part way back to the house.”

      She let him direct her up the path, down which she had just come, not because she was in such a hurry to get back to the house, but because she was too embarrassed to protest.

      “What were you looking for?” she asked, trying to fill the empty space between them.

      “When?”

      “Just now. At the landing.”

      He chuckled. “Your imagination must be working overtime.”

      She stiffened. It was beginning to look as if nothing that she observed was real. She saw that the door was locked and it was not. She heard voices, but there was no one there. She saw Mr. Parker bending over looking for СКАЧАТЬ