Scent Of Roses. Kat Martin
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Название: Scent Of Roses

Автор: Kat Martin

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы

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СКАЧАТЬ with their daily chores, they attended a variety of classes, a number dealing with information on the consequences of drug and alcohol abuse. Zach lectured on those subjects several times a year and discovered that being honest about his past gave him a special rapport with the boys.

      After his last session, Raul Perez had stayed after class to talk to him. He wanted to know if Zach believed Raul might be able to get into college after he got his GED.

      “I think you’d have a very good chance, Raul. It would take a lot of hard work, but anything’s possible. I can tell you that first hand.”

      Raul smiled. It was obvious the idea of hard work didn’t bother him. Zach thought that Liz Conners might be right about the kid. There did seem to be something special about him, though Zach couldn’t quite nail down what it was.

      As he got out of the Jeep, he spotted the boy walking through the pasture, a big tough-looking kid, hard-edged until you dug a little deeper. Then you saw the same kind of need Zach had felt as a boy, the longing to have someone care about you.

      Zach knew the kid had no father and lost his mother just as he entered his teens. His sister and her husband were the only family Raul had.

      Zach had parents. Sort of. But Teresa Burgess, his mother, had been too busy keeping Fletcher Carson happy—at least in the beginning—to worry much about her son. Zach had been nine when his parents had ended their longtime relationship and his father had demanded custody of his son.

      Teresa had agreed—for a price. She’d sold him like a hunk of meat for a new car and the title to the small house Fletcher had provided for her and Zach. His father had taken him home to live in the big house on Harcourt Farms, but instead of a blessing, it was the beginning of a life in hell.

      Zach continued walking, heading for the maintenance shed to retrieve his carpenter’s belt, and Raul started walking his way.

      “Need some help?” the boy asked.

      “I thought you were feeding the cattle.”

      “Already done. The dairy cows, too. I’m pretty good with a hammer.”

      He was pretty good at everything around the farm, Zach had noticed. And he actually seemed to enjoy the hard work.

      “All right, good. The more help we’ve got, the quicker we get this thing finished. Sam wants to get the alfalfa under cover by the time summer’s over.”

      “Sounds like a good idea.” Following Zach into the shed, Raul retrieved another belt, nails and a hammer, and they started toward the barn. For a moment, Raul’s steps slowed, his gaze going over the fields to the bright patches of color on the other side.

      “What is it?”

      “The roses. They are so beautiful this time of year.”

      Six hundred and forty acres of lush, Harcourt Farms roses bloomed in the fields that began at the edge of the property belonging to Teen Vision. From the air, the ground was awash with an incredible array of yellow, flame, red, pink, white and a spread of variegated blossoms. From May through September, when the breeze blew across the fields, the soft scent of roses filled the air.

      Zach had always loved the fragrance. Maybe there were two good things about San Pico.

      Eight

      Maria couldn’t sleep. Miguel was working late again and the house felt oddly empty. She had made a few women friends since she had lived at Harcourt Farms but most of them moved on when the workers headed off for their next job. Her best friend was a girl named Isabel Flores, who worked for Mr. Harcourt and lived in the big house on the farm. Though she was only a few years older than Maria, she was Mr. Harcourt’s housekeeper. She took care of his house…and other of his personal needs.

      Isabel had told her that she liked working there, that Mr. Harcourt took very good care of her. She didn’t mind his occasional visits to her bed. In fact, she enjoyed them. And she was careful, she said. Though she had to confess her sin at church on Sunday mornings, she took birth control pills so she wouldn’t get pregnant with his child.

      Propped against the headboard in bed, Maria considered getting dressed again and going over to see Isabel tonight. She would tell her best friend what had been happening to her, talk to her about the tests she had taken, the sessions she’d had with Dr. James. But it was really too late for a visit and Miguel would be home soon.

      At least she hoped he would be. She thought about returning to the living room to watch a little more TV, but she was tired. When she had returned from her session with Dr. James, she had worked in the vegetable garden, and the heat had exhausted her even more than she had been already. Now it was late and she was sleepy.

      She settled lower in the bed, pulling the sheet up beneath her chin, telling herself that now that she understood more about what was happening to her, the dream would not come again. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but the minutes ticked past and sleep remained elusive.

      Instead, she waited, listening for the sound of Miguel’s work boots on the steps outside the back door. More minutes passed. Slowly, her eyelids began to droop. Her body relaxed against the mattress and she slipped into sleep.

      It was the cold that awakened her, an icy chill that seeped into her bones like death in a crypt. Even this late, it was almost ninety degrees outside. How could it be so cold in the bedroom? Her teeth began to chatter. She pulled the sheet up over her, reached down for the thin yellow quilt, folded across the foot of the bed.

      Her fingers wrapped around the fabric tightly. For the first time, she noticed the sounds…the eerie moaning, the creak and groan like someone walking on the boards in the living room. The fragrance of roses drifted toward her. The odor thickened, grew more dense, turned harsh and cloying, filling her nostrils, burning her throat.

      She swallowed, sat there in the bed afraid to move, her fingers frozen around the top of the quilt. Her gaze drifted there, down to the foot of the bed, and her whole body tightened. There was something there, a cloudy, milky image she could see through but not clearly, something with the vague shape of a person.

      They’ll take your baby if you don’t leave. They’ll kill your baby.

      Maria whimpered. Dios mio! Gooseflesh rose over her skin and her hand started shaking, her knuckles going pale as she gripped the quilt.

      They’ll take your baby. They’ll kill your baby if you don’t leave.

      She closed her eyes but the image remained, frozen there, behind her quivering eyelids. A child, maybe eight or nine years old, hovering, floating above the floor at the foot of the bed, a little girl, she thought from the sound of the voice, but she couldn’t be sure.

      It is not real, she told herself, repeating what Dr. James had said. It is only in your mind.

      She whispered a silent prayer, told herself to will the image away, and kept her eyes tightly closed for as long as she dared. She repeated the prayer, whispering frantically to the Blessed Virgin, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that her prayer had been answered.

      The eerie sounds slowly melted into silence. Little by little, the harsh smell faded, turning softer, no longer strong, but delicate, almost soothing. The icy chill was gone from the room and the temperature returned to normal.

      But СКАЧАТЬ