The Price Of Silence. Kate Wilhelm

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ like a television personality or a movie actor. Dark wavy hair, touched with grey at the temples, regular features, even a square chin with a slight cleft. As a young man he must have been a knockout, she thought, shaking hands. Now, fifty-something, he was still one of the handsomest men she had ever met. His eyes were dark brown, eyebrows with enough of an arch to suggest flirtatiousness, and a tan that was so smooth and even it looked like a salon tan.

      “Todd, I’ve been listening to your praises,” he said. “But no one mentioned that you are also beautiful. It’s a pleasure.”

      She felt the heat rise on her cheeks. God, she thought, he must have to fight off his female patients with a baseball bat.

      “We were on our way across the street for a drink,” Dr. Rawleigh said. “Join us.”

      She started to shake her head, and he added, “What I prescribe for you is an iced double espresso. You look as if you’ve had quite a day in heat you haven’t yet become accustomed to.”

      “Good heavens!” she said. “That sounds irresistible. Just like that, you talked me into it.”

      “I’ll pick up that key for you,” Johnny said, and strolled back to his office.

      They crossed the street and sat under an awning at Carl’s Café, where Todd could smell pine trees, desert and heat. She hadn’t realized heat had its own particular odor, but she was certain that was what she sniffed in the dry air. Both men ordered beer and she had her espresso, then sighed with contentment at her first sip. Just right.

      “You didn’t like our hotel?” Dr. Rawleigh asked after taking a long drink.

      “It isn’t that,” she said. “I want to get the house in order, get settled—but I have to admit that having the air conditioner go crazy in the middle of the night was not a real inducement to try another night there.”

      “It wasn’t the air conditioner,” Johnny said. “We get a crazy inversion or something now and then and a blanket of cold air settles over the whole area, then dissipates after a time.”

      “In August?”

      “Any month. No one has really explained it, but it happens.”

      “Have you felt the water in the creek?” Dr. Rawleigh asked. “It’s like ice water year round. Up at Warm Springs it comes out hot, here it’s ice water. The inversion is sort of like that—except that it’s air, not water. The volcanoes around here are strange, not like other mountains. That frigid air mass has been happening ever since I’ve been around, off and on, unpredictable. I was here for months before I experienced one. You’re here less than a week and there it is. Go figure.”

      “Surely a meteorologist can explain it,” Todd said. “I never felt cold air like that before in my life.”

      “We’ve had a couple come in,” Johnny said, “and nothing happens. They leave again thinking we’re all balmy. We’re okay. This land is what’s crazy.”

      He laughed. “For a good look at our crazy land, some time after the weather cools a bit, you and your husband should take a day hike up to the creek head,” Dr. Rawleigh said. “Great view from up there. It’s a good hike, five or six miles up and back. Up Crest Loop to a narrow bridge, and take the left road, a dirt road. The Loop winds on around a while, past my place, and eventually back down to the highway, but the dirt road turns into a trail up a ways and eventually you’ll come to a big boulder, and gushing out from under it is where Brindle Creek begins. It isn’t a difficult hike, but watch out for rattlesnakes. They’re up there this time of year. Anyway, it’s dry as a bone above the boulder, nothing to indicate that it’s the source of pure ice water. You can fill your water bottles, perfectly safe up there. You don’t want to do that down farther, but it starts out absolutely pure. The creek comes tumbling down the terraces, through town, under the highway bridge, and on for another mile or two and then takes a dive. Gone.”

      “What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”

      “Underground. The Great Basin is jealous. No water that goes in ever gets out again. Just the way it is.”

      “Curiouser and curiouser,” Todd said. She finished her espresso and picked up her purse. “I have to be going. It’s nice meeting you, Dr. Rawleigh. Thanks for the prescription. It was exactly right.”

      “Please,” he said. “Just Sam. The little kids call me Dr. Rawleigh because their moms make them, then it turns into Dr. Sam, and before you know it, just plain old Sam. We’re all on first names here, even us outsiders.”

      “You’re an outsider?”

      “Going on twenty-one years now. Came, married a local girl, stayed, but I’m an outsider. An observer. You get used to it.”

      Although Johnny looked a little uncomfortable, he did not dispute the doctor’s words. He shrugged and waved to the waitress for the check, and Todd left them at the table, bemused. So far everyone had treated her exactly the way she would have expected, kindly, with friendliness, without a trace of suspicion or distrust.

      That night she called Barney and told him about her day and he told her about his, then said huskily, “The movers will come on Tuesday, and the minute they’re out the door, so am I.”

      Just as huskily she said, “Good. Then I will try to be patient and not run away with the handsome doctor.”

      When she hung up, she closed her eyes tight and drew in a long breath. She had never been so lonesome in her life.

      Four

      “And on your left, is the one and only Coombs greenhouse where at this very moment an acre of tomatoes is getting sunburned, or sun dried, or something. The Coombs girls are both in their sixties.” Todd was the tour guide, pointing out the must-see sights to Barney as they strolled. They had been there a month, but this was the first weekend free of settling-in chores. “I have to take pictures at their mother’s funeral, at least at the cemetery, on Monday. Half the county will be there, according to Ruth Ann.” Sobering, she said. “Ruth Ann wrote a very touching obituary. She’s really a fine writer. Anyway, coming up on the right is Miss Lizzy’s gift shop, where you will find plates with the map of Oregon, Chief Joseph’s last stand, some of the loveliest carved or sculpted birds I’ve ever seen, a rendition of the Oregon Trail on bark—” She frowned at Barney, who had started to laugh.

      “Sir, this is a serious business.”

      “You’re babbling.”

      “I know. You have to remember that as one of four children, and just a girl, no one ever paid any attention to anything I said, so I stopped saying much of anything until I found you—Oh, look. There’s Sam’s Explorer. He’s going into the rock shop. Come on, you can meet him. The owner is Jacko. No last name. Just Jacko.” She hurried him along.

      During the past month, she had made it a point to enter every business establishment in town and introduce herself. Her cause, she had explained to Barney, was to be known so that if anything happened, someone would think to tell her. Also, she had said, Shinny, their star reporter, didn’t know the difference between a grocery list and a news story. So far the most compelling bit of news he had reported had been the town-council meeting; they were debating where on the highway to put a traffic light. North end of town, or at Crest Loop? The debate, she had added, had been raging for two years.

      Jacko’s СКАЧАТЬ