Особое чувство собственного ирландства. Пат Инголдзби

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СКАЧАТЬ she gone crazy? Clementine asked herself as she started the car with shaky fingers and pulled onto the highway. What had possessed her to invite Quito to join her at the house?

      Silly woman you know why you invited him. Because you never could resist him and these next few minutes might be the last you ever have with him.

      Trying to put that black thought from her mind, Clementine concentrated on her driving and dared not to look in the rearview mirror. Just knowing he was directly behind her was enough to distract her.

      Two miles passed before Clementine made a right-hand turn and pulled up to massive iron gates supported by two tall columns made of Colorado rock.

      The gates were secured with a combination lock. She rolled the correct numbers and once the lock released she pushed the gates aside.

      Before she slid back into her car, she walked back to the driver’s window on Quito’s car. He lowered the glass and looked at her.

      “I just wanted to tell you not to bother locking the gates behind you. I’ve decided to leave them open while I’m here.”

      “All right,” he replied.

      She glanced toward the entrance. Clumps of sage had grown up around the rock columns and the two willows that her father had planted were now huge and drooping a deep shade across the driveway. It all looked so different and beautiful and for a moment hot moisture stung her eyes.

      “It’s so grown-up,” she murmured.

      “Things have a way of changing with time, Clementine.”

      Oh, yes, she understood that better than anyone, she thought wistfully.

      After a moment, she said, “Well, guess we’d better go on up.”

      The drive up to the Jones house was less than a mile, but it seemed much farther. The road curved and climbed the whole distance and on either side of the rough track old twisted juniper stood like crippled warriors proudly hanging on to what little greenery they had left. The dirt was red and bare and some sort of sage was blooming pink and yellow. It was wild and beautiful scenery and Clementine wondered what it would be like to live here again, to see the fresh blue sky and breathe in the clean, crisp air of the high desert.

      Don’t even think about it, Clementine. If you stayed your problems would eventually follow you. And then where would you be? Your staying might even put your old friends in danger.

      Shaking that grim notion away, she gripped the wheel and tried to focus on the huge potholes scattered here and there on the deteriorated road. Finally the pathway flattened out to a level spot some several feet below the house. Clementine parked her car to one side so that Quito would have ample room, then climbed out to the ground.

      As she waited for him to join her, she stared up at the huge structure where she and her parents had once lived in.

      By Houston standards, the place really wasn’t anything to brag about. But in this area it was considered majestic, and had especially been admired eleven years ago when her father, Wilfred Jones, had it built.

      The house was hacienda style with stuccoed walls in yellow-beige, a red tiled roof, and a long, ground level porch with arched supports running along the front. At the back of the structure an upstairs housed two more bedrooms to add to those on the ground floor. Off the second floor a large sundeck had been built of treated redwood. It was a spot where Clementine had often donned a bikini and lain in the warm sun.

      Walking up behind her, Quito lifted his gaze toward the empty house. “Looks like you’ve been lucky. No vandalism. Which is surprising for as long as this place has been empty.”

      “Daddy still has the place equipped with an alarm system. I’m sure that’s helped.”

      “Yeah, that and the fact that most young people are too lazy to walk all the way up here from the highway.”

      “Let’s go take a look around,” she said and without looking to see if he was following, she started up the twenty-five steps that would eventually take her to the front door.

      As she climbed, memories assailed her. Some of them sweet and special, others painful. She tried not to think of any of those times now. It didn’t do a person any good to keep going back to the past, she told herself. But for all these years her thoughts had lingered here with Quito.

      Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed he was coming at a much slower pace and she suddenly remembered his injuries.

      Skipping four steps down to him, she took hold of his arm. “Quito, I’m sorry. This is winding you. Maybe you shouldn’t go the rest of the way.”

      He tossed her a dry look. “I’m all right. Hell, after this I should be able to run the 220.”

      She sighed. “I wasn’t thinking about your injuries,” she apologized again.

      Shaking his head, he urged her on up the steps. “I’m not an invalid, Clementine. Maybe a little slow still, but it’s going to take a damn sight more than a bastard with a nine millimeter to kill me.”

      Clementine didn’t know what she would have done if she’d arrived in Aztec to find that Quito had been killed. Dear God, she couldn’t begin to imagine the world without his powerful presence. Even eleven years ago, he’d been one of the driving forces that held this county together. She figured things were still that way. No doubt the people around here adored him and would have grieved at his passing. And she…well, she would have sunk into a black hole.

      In spite of his determined words, she continued to hold on to his arm and they took each step slowly together until they reached the porch.

      Sliding off her sunglasses, she dug into her shoulder bag until she felt the key ring. Once she’d unlocked the door and swung it open, she glanced around to see Quito standing just behind her. But his gaze wasn’t on her. He was staring down at the valley spread below them.

      “Will liked being up here on the mountain,” Quito mused aloud. “How is your father now? And your mother?”

      Tender emotion knotted her throat, forcing her to swallow before she could answer. “They’re both doing fine. They live in Houston, not far from my place. Right now they’ve gone to spend the summer in Rome. Daddy didn’t care a whit about going. But Mother loves it there and well, you know, Mother gets what Mother wants.”

      His lips twisted to a wry slant. “I never thought of your mother as demanding.”

      Clementine laughed softly. “You’re being kind, Quito. We both know she’s demanding and Daddy spoils her rotten. Just like he did—”

      “You?”

      Her blue gaze clashed with his dark brown eyes and she felt her stomach go weak as if she’d been punched by a fist.

      Releasing a heavy breath, she murmured, “Yes, like me.”

      Before he could say more, she quickly turned and stepped inside. Dust and stale air assaulted her nose and she sneezed, then sneezed again.

      As she punched off the alarm system, Quito said, “Bless you.”

      Glancing СКАЧАТЬ