Cloud Nine. Luanne Rice

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ of the store.

      ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Sarah said. ‘Sure you wouldn’t like a little cider?’

      ‘Maybe a little,’ Secret said. She waited while Sarah filled two brown mugs. ‘The airlines would hire my dad though. He had offers from TWA, Delta. He could fly anywhere, but he likes being his own boss.’

      ‘He certainly seems capable to me,’ Sarah said, handing her a mug. Secret accepted it, smelling the spicy steam.

      ‘The navy trained him,’ Secret said. ‘But he was a pilot even before that. He learned to fly when he was just a little older than me. He was so valuable to the navy, he could do everything. Fly, swim in times of disaster. Lead his men. He always kept his head in times of maneuvers.’

      ‘Maneuvers?’

      ‘Yes, such as the Persian Gulf. He was there.’

      ‘You sound like a proud daughter.’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘Upstate New York is pretty far inland for a navy family,’ Sarah said.

      ‘Yes,’ Secret said, sipping her cider. She felt her asthma just waiting for the next questions: Why are you here? Do you have any brothers or sisters? But the questions never came. Instead, Sarah stuck out her hand.

      ‘We haven’t officially met. I’m Sarah Talbot.’

      ‘I’m Secret Burke.’

      ‘What a beautiful name!’ Sarah said.

      Secret glanced over to see if she was being fake. Certain older people tended to patronize her when they heard her name, but she could see that Sarah was being sincere. Sarah’s eyes were full of admiration. She had a wonderful smile, with a slightly crooked front tooth.

      ‘Thank you,’ Secret said. ‘I’m actually getting ready to change it.’

      ‘Really? To what?’

      ‘I was thinking of Snow.’

      Sarah nodded, blowing on her cider. ‘Perfect for winter,’ she said.

      ‘Is Sarah your real name?’

      ‘Yes, it is,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve lugged it around my whole life. For a while in seventh grade I tried out Sadie, but it wasn’t me.’

      ‘No,’ Secret agreed. ‘You are definitely a Sarah.’

      For the first time since coming in, Secret focused on Sarah’s hair. It had grown out about half an inch, and the color was somewhere between yellow and gray. She knew people having cancer treatments lost their hair. Beauty tips were one of Secret’s best talents, and she eyed Sarah appraisingly.

      ‘What?’ Sarah said. The way she blushed, touching her hair with a stricken look in her eyes, made Secret feel so bad, she almost spilled her cider. Sarah was self-conscious! Secret had seen that same expression in the eyes of her friend Margie Drake when two of the cool girls, whispering and pointing, had made fun of her new perm.

      ‘Well …’ Secret said, trying to decide. She could lie, say nothing, pretend she had just been about to burp. Or she could tell the truth, offer to help. ‘I was just noticing your hair,’ she said bravely.

      ‘My poor hair,’ Sarah said, still pink. ‘Yep, I lost it. It used to be dark brown, and now look. It came in such a funny color. Somewhere between old socks and dirty dishwater.’

      ‘You could bleach it,’ Secret suggested. ‘The way it’s growing in, it’s so cute and punky. You could get it pure white and look so great!’

      ‘Like Annie Lennox,’ Sarah said, smiling.

      ‘Who?’ Secret asked.

      Just then the bells above the door sounded. A cluster of tiny silver bells, just like you might find in England. A group of college girls walked in, hugging themselves to get warm. Sarah called hello to them, and they called back. She offered them cider.

      Secret nestled into her spot on the edge of the bed. The bed took up most of the store. But it was a bed no one would ever sleep in. Like a toy bed in the bedroom of a beautiful dollhouse. Like her playhouse in the middle of their apartment in Newport. All they needed was Fred’s toy train chugging around the room, sounding its happy whistle.

      Sarah served the college girls cider, but when she was done she came back to sit beside Secret. Their mugs were cool enough to really drink now. Side by side they sipped their drinks, while outside the air grew colder. The girls’ voices were cheerful and excited. Their parents had sent them money, and they were all buying new quilts for the winter. They were the paying customers, but Sarah was sitting with Secret. As if she were her friend. As if she were hers alone.

      Later that night, Sarah stood in front of her bathroom mirror. The lights were bright, and she thought she looked like a startled cat. Her ugly yellow-gray hair stuck straight up, like the soft bristles of a baby brush. Ever since closing the shop, she had found herself thinking about what Secret had said: She could bleach her hair.

      Thinking about it felt radical. Sarah had never dyed her hair before, never even considered it. Growing up, she hadn’t fooled around with her appearance much. She had never been much for makeup, especially lipstick. It always felt so heavy on her mouth, and she was always licking her lips to see if it was still on. It made her feel too obvious, as if she was drawing too much attention to herself. Beauty products were for other, more glamorous girls.

      But now, ruffling her hair, she wanted to do something. She hated the way she looked. Ever since the chemo, she could hardly recognize herself. She looked either very old or very young, anything but her real age. Her hair had come in colorless, and she had lots of new lines around her eyes and mouth that put her close to forty, but she had an alarmed, perpetually surprised look at all times that made her look like an overgrown infant.

      No one ever mentioned it, how weird she looked. Not even her friends – not even her wonderful nurse, Meg Ferguson. At the hospital, someone had come around with wigs to try on, but Sarah had said no to those. Wearing a wig would feel like having pantyhose on her head, sweaty and claustrophobic. The scalp equivalent to lipstick. Sarah had gone the distance for her brain tumor, trying every revolutionary treatment known to doctors anywhere, but when it came to her appearance she wouldn’t try the simplest things.

      Sighing, she walked into her bedroom. Annie Lennox played on the CD player; Sarah had put her on for moral support. Annie and Sarah. And Secret. She wondered if Secret Burke knew what a big favor she had done her, breaking the ice about something that had been driving her crazy with stupid worry.

      Thanksgiving. What if she went? Aside from all the old sorrow with her father, their history of letdown and resentment, Sarah had an even bigger fear about the possibility of going home to Elk Island in less than three weeks. She was afraid to have Mike see her this way. She didn’t want him to feel scared, or disgusted, by his own mother. She would have to hire extra help or close her shop for the long weekend.

      She remembered naming her first shop. She was nineteen years old, a college student in Boston. Nineteen! Hardly older than Mike! Where had she gotten the confidence, the ambition? The shop was tiny, one single room with a brick wall and parquet floors. Sarah had walked through the door and filled the place with all her dreams. She would СКАЧАТЬ