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motion, her mind was at rest. As she d wound her way among the headstones, she found that it wasn t only her feet that went numb. She liked this the not think ing. It felt good. I m not a quitter, especially after I ve pinched a warm coat, she told him. And by the way, I don t think you meant to say cold-blooded. That s like a reptile. A lizard would die in this cold. He laughed, and she liked the sound of it, deep and masculine. I stand corrected. Hanging out with you is like dating a teacher. Gee. Thanks. But his words made her pulse beat faster. He d said the word date. 127 That sounded sarcastic. Really? She grinned. You think I m sarcastic? Watch me pretend to care. Oh, you re funny, Cameryn. I like that. I like some one I can laugh with. And since I am a Scout and I have pledged to help those in need, I ll now selflessly help keep your fingers from freezing off. It s the least I can do. He held out his hand. Timidly, she placed hers in his. Inside, her mind was awake again. Now it was scream ing, Too fast, too fast, too fast! Your hand is so small, he murmured. It s like a kid s. His felt surprisingly warm as it closed around hers. Let s move out, he told her. Leaning back as if on a rope tow, Cameryn raced after him through the graves, weaving around headstones as though they were buoys in water. It was fun to run this way. She felt the last of the day s horror fading away as her feet churned through patches of snow. She d always thought this was the place she d like to be buried. Unlike most cemeteries, Hillside, as its name implied, had been carved into a foothill. Layered like a wedding cake, with snow instead of frosting and headstones in place of confectioners roses, it had a history of miners and prostitutes, mayors and madams. They wove around a mass grave from the flu epidemic of 1918. Farther along was a mausoleum boasting a 128 Russian princess, a woman named Edna Harris who d been embroiled in a bizarre love triangle that included the man who became the chief architect of Silverton. Silverton had always been strangely proud of its scandalous past, and Cameryn was proud, too. She d like to spend her after life talking with such an eclectic group of corpses. They raced past plots where whole families were buried behind spiked fences, hemming them in like a prizefighter s ring. Some, like the family she streaked by on her right, seemed cheerful in death: moonlight revealed their headstones decorated with beads and glass trinkets, whirligigs, and Hawaiian leis. Other graves, though, told a different story headstones erased by a century of harsh weather, or tipped over by gravity and neglect. It saddened her to realize that even under the cover of night, she could easily tell who d been for gotten. We made it, he said. Come on, have a seat. He sat down on a wooden bench positioned to face a tombstone. Cameryn squeezed in beside him. There was barely room for the two of them, so their legs pressed together again, as they had in the restaurant, but this time she couldn t move away. And she wasn t sure she would have, even if there d been miles of room. Okay, she said, what am I supposed to see? Kyle hesitated. There, he said, pointing to a head stone. 129 It was an old-fashioned grave marker made to look like the pages of an open Bible. Carved on the granite were letters denoting someone s death. Since it was too dark for Cameryn to read, she asked, What does it say? It says, Mary Fitzgerald, 1966. My anam cara. Who s Mary Fitzgerald? she asked. And what s an anam cara? She s my grandmother. My mother s mother. Oh. I m sorry. Don t be. Anam cara is Gaelic. Anam is the Irish word for soul and cara is the word for friend. So it means soul friend. That was my grandfather s name for her. When he put his hand on her arm, she could barely feel it through the coat s thick padding, but her nerves began to prickle beneath her skin. He was leaning in, nearer. Too fast, too fast, too fast, raced through her mind again. Aren t you cold? she asked. I m warmer, now that we re close. I can give you back your coat. You keep it. The bench was at the edge of the cemetery, next to the tree line, and beyond Kyle s head she could see branches touching branches, holding hands in moonlight, as if they could keep back the invisible legion of trees covered in shadow. Then she had a crazy thought: She d been like those trees not the ones on the edge that were easily 130 seen, but the ones behind, hiding in that vast, unseen, evergreen army marching up the mountainside. She d been hiding from her mammaw and her father and, most frightening of all, from herself. And here was Kyle, want ing to draw her out. Anam cara, she said, turning the words in her mouth. I like that. She felt his hand stroking hers. I was . . . I was think ing that you and me . . . we have something like that now. After today, I think we have anam cara. We do? We ve got a link to each other. I mean, we re the only kids in school who saw Brad in that room. There s no one else who can understand it. Just you . . . and I. Why did you bring me here? she asked softly. Honestly? Yes. Her one word made a single puff in the cold air. So we could be alone. Where no one could see. And so I could do this. And then he was kissing her, kissing the girl who d hardly ever been kissed. She could feel the whiskers of his upper lip against her own, rough as sandpaper, and beneath that she could taste the lingering taste of choco late mint. His hands caressed her neck as he pulled her closer, but then his tongue entered her mouth and she pulled away. Don t, she said. 131 He didn t seem to hear. He kissed her again. Wait, she said, louder this time. I can t. Now he did hear. Pulling back from her, she saw he was frowning, but puzzled, too. What s the matter? Are you going with someone? Going? No. That s not it. A picture of Justin flashed through her mind, but she quickly dismissed his image. Her father said Justin was too old for her, and maybe that was true. But more importantly, Justin had already seen inside her head. He understood her weaknesses. No, if she ever began a relationship, she d want to be able to show herself in the most flattering light, then slowly reveal herself. She couldn t do that with Justin. He already knew too much. If it s not another guy, then . . . why? Kyle, I just can t. I just can t get involved with some one anyone right now. Why not? How could she tell him about Hannah, and how she couldn t squeeze out one more drop of herself for anyone? That her life was already too difficult and was about to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |