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direction apparently did not go unnoticed. "For one
thing, why do you keep looking at me like that if you're
not interested?"
Josey cleared her throat and said the first thing that
came to mind. "I'm an artist. I like breasts. I like
curves."
Ellen said quietly, "Oh."
Josey took a step back and crossed her arms. "May I
ask how Helen fits in your life?"
"I need an old friend right now, and she's that." Ellen's
smile trembled a little at the edges. "I don't understand
you."
Josey studied her for a moment. Maybe it was the
vulnerability that decided for her the brave, lopsided
grin. Perhaps it was what Ellen refrained from saying.
She ran her tongue over her lips. "Want to see what I'm
working on?"
She led Ellen into the studio, realizing she'd never
invited her there till now. The track lights glared even in
the daylight that crept into the room. She whipped the
covers off the paintings, keeping her eyes on Ellen's
face.
For a long moment Ellen stared at them, a puzzled look
coming and going. She cleared her throat, her voice
unsteady. "Powerful." Her eyes strayed to Josey's face
and back to the easels. "You're telling me something
here? This is you." The last sentence had no question in
it. Ellen had put it together.
Josey nodded, frowning at the canvases. "I don't want
to talk about it, though."
"When you do, let me know. I'll listen." Ellen added
wistfully, "I wish you'd trusted me, though."
"I didn't want anyone to know," Josey said.
"Obviously. It's nevertheless quite a jolt to find out you
felt you had to hide it from me. Puts things pretty much
in perspective."
"I didn't want any pity," she explained, feeling somewhat
at a loss as to why she'd expected any.
"You wouldn't have gotten any from me. I'll go now."
Ellen briefly pressed her eyes shut with a thumb and
forefinger.
Josey said softly, "I couldn't talk about it. It was a
shock."
Ellen nodded, dropping her hand to her side. "I'll bet.
I'm sorry."
Josey turned away. She heard the door shut behind
Ellen.
XIV
Annie
The week passed slowly. She read, wrote in the
notebook, and put more weight on her ankle. Nearly
every day Molly drove in for a quick bout in bed,
always saying before leaving that it meant nothing.
Josey asked who was stopping by. "I see the tire tracks
in the sand. They're not mine."
"Sometimes John, sometimes Molly. You'd make a
good spy." She was damn lonely, hungering for
someone to talk to, but she wouldn't admit to it.
"Tell you what. Tomorrow night we'll go for a ride on
the scooter," Josey said. Pulaski had dropped the
scooter off after Annie sprained her ankle "Take it into
town and get some ice cream."
She smiled a little. "I haven't been away from here since
this happened, but maybe we should go in the Escort.
What if we fall over?"
"You don't trust me, I see. That was my scooter first. I
rode it everywhere, but we can take the car. Then
Buddy can come along. He loves ice cream."
John called her on Friday. She heard Macho's deep
bark in the background.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"In the barn. Is your ankle good enough to go to the
Fox?"
"You bet," she said, jumping at the chance to get out.
"I've got cabin fever." It had been one of the longest
weeks of her life, coming in second to the two days she
and her sisters had been left with their dad when her
mother had gone to a convention in Madison a few
years ago.
"Nine okay?"
"Sure." She pictured the inside of the stable, the dog
patrolling the aisles, a horse in the cross-ties. "How was
the show?"
"Good. I'll tell you more tonight."
She used the banister to hop upstairs to take a shower
and wash her hair. Josey had rented a chair to put in the
tub for her to sit on, and she enjoyed the warm spray
for a long time before turning it off.
Molly had come and gone around noon time, saying
nothing about her weekend plans, and Annie hadn't
asked. The sex was so good now that she knew she
would never voluntarily give it up, nor did she think
Molly would. Perhaps her showing up at the Fox with
John would make Molly a little jealous. She, too, could
pretend the only reason to have sex with a girl was to
keep her ready for when the right guy came along.
Putting her good foot outside the tub, she sat on the flat
edge and dried, then levered herself over to the toilet
and to the sink where she hauled herself upright.
Everything took so much time and effort that it wore her
out.
She was getting pretty good on the crutches and could
let the foot with the bad ankle graze the ground, even
take a little weight. She hoped to be able to put enough
pressure on it to climb a ladder next week.
Dressed in shorts and T-shirt, throwing a cotton
sweater over her shoulders, she made her way
downstairs on her rump. It was less risky that way.
She heard Josey in the kitchen, talking to the dog who [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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