Read Online They Thirst by Robert McCammon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert McCammon
Ads: Link
tie with little flecks of blue and red in it, then walked out into the hallway and leaned slightly over the stairway railing. He could hear Joanna down in the kitchen, and the mouth-watering aroma of frying sausages and potatoes drifted up to him. He Called out, "Jo! Come look at this!"
She came in another moment, her graying hair pulled up into a tight bun. She was wearing a dark green robe and slippers. "Let's see it," she said.
He held up the tie and raised his eyebrows.
"Iszonyu!" she said. "It's hideous with that shirt. Wear the dark blue tie today."
"That has a spot on it."
"Then the redandbluestriped one."
"I don't like that tie."
"Because my brother gave it to you!" she muttered and shook her head.
"What's wrong with this one?" He held out the green tie and made it wiggle like a snake.
"Nothing—if you want to look like a clown. Go on, wear it! Look like a clown! But . . . it . . . does . . . not . . . go!" She sniffed the air. "The potatoes are burning! See what you've made me do!" She whirled toward the kitchen and disappeared.
"Your brother has nothing to do with it!" he called down to her; he could hear her mumbling but couldn't tell what she was saying, so he shrugged and stepped back into the bedroom. His gaze fell upon the rocking chair over by the window, and he stood looking at it for a moment. Then he walked over to it, placed a thick finger against one of the arms, and pushed. The chair creaked softly as it moved back and forth. Was that a dream I had last night, he asked himself, or did I really see a megjelenes, an apparition, sitting here in this chair? No, a dream, of course! Mama is dead and buried and at peace. Finally. He gave out a long sigh, looked down at the green tie in his hand, and stepped back to the closet. He hung it back on the rack and looked at the striped one Jo's brother, a lawyer who lived in Washington, D.C., had given him on St. Stephen's Day. Never! he thought stubbornly. He sighted a tie he hadn't worn in several months; it was bright red with big, blue polka dots, and it was buried so deeply on the rack he thought that Jo must've surely hidden it on purpose. Someday, he thought grimly, she's going to burn them all up like she's been threatening! As he slipped it on, he looked up at the top shelf and saw a flat box half-hidden under a couple of battered hats with small, sad feathers glued to their bands. He quickly looked away and closed the closet door.
In the small, cozy kitchen at the rear of the house, Jo was putting the breakfast plates on the little table that overlooked her backyard garden when her husband came in, smelling of Vitalis and Old Spice shaving lotion. She looked up, started to smile, and winced instead when she saw what was hanging around his neck. "Eat your sausages," she said. "You might have a hard day at the circus."
"Gladly. Ah, this looks delicious!" He sat down at the table and started to eat, taking in huge, sloppy mouthfuls of sausage and potatoes. Jo set a cup of hot, black coffee beside him and took her seat on the other side of the table. "It's good," he said with food in his mouth. "Very good."
"Slow down," Jo said. "You'll have an attack."
He nodded and kept eating. When he stopped to drink some coffee, she said, "Andy, you should take a Saturday off once in a while. You should relax, all this working and worrying isn't good for you. Why don't you call and tell them you're staying home today? We can go for a nice drive to the beach."
"I can't," he said, washing potatoes down his throat "Maybe next Saturday."
"You said that last week."
"Oh. Well, I meant it, but . . ." He lifted his gaze to hers. "You know why I have to go in. Someone might turn up something."
"They'll call you if they do." She watched him, her eyes bright and blue and alert. She was also worried about the dark hollows that had now appeared beneath Andy's eyes, about the new lines that had begun to snake across his face. He didn't sleep so well lately either, and
She came in another moment, her graying hair pulled up into a tight bun. She was wearing a dark green robe and slippers. "Let's see it," she said.
He held up the tie and raised his eyebrows.
"Iszonyu!" she said. "It's hideous with that shirt. Wear the dark blue tie today."
"That has a spot on it."
"Then the redandbluestriped one."
"I don't like that tie."
"Because my brother gave it to you!" she muttered and shook her head.
"What's wrong with this one?" He held out the green tie and made it wiggle like a snake.
"Nothing—if you want to look like a clown. Go on, wear it! Look like a clown! But . . . it . . . does . . . not . . . go!" She sniffed the air. "The potatoes are burning! See what you've made me do!" She whirled toward the kitchen and disappeared.
"Your brother has nothing to do with it!" he called down to her; he could hear her mumbling but couldn't tell what she was saying, so he shrugged and stepped back into the bedroom. His gaze fell upon the rocking chair over by the window, and he stood looking at it for a moment. Then he walked over to it, placed a thick finger against one of the arms, and pushed. The chair creaked softly as it moved back and forth. Was that a dream I had last night, he asked himself, or did I really see a megjelenes, an apparition, sitting here in this chair? No, a dream, of course! Mama is dead and buried and at peace. Finally. He gave out a long sigh, looked down at the green tie in his hand, and stepped back to the closet. He hung it back on the rack and looked at the striped one Jo's brother, a lawyer who lived in Washington, D.C., had given him on St. Stephen's Day. Never! he thought stubbornly. He sighted a tie he hadn't worn in several months; it was bright red with big, blue polka dots, and it was buried so deeply on the rack he thought that Jo must've surely hidden it on purpose. Someday, he thought grimly, she's going to burn them all up like she's been threatening! As he slipped it on, he looked up at the top shelf and saw a flat box half-hidden under a couple of battered hats with small, sad feathers glued to their bands. He quickly looked away and closed the closet door.
In the small, cozy kitchen at the rear of the house, Jo was putting the breakfast plates on the little table that overlooked her backyard garden when her husband came in, smelling of Vitalis and Old Spice shaving lotion. She looked up, started to smile, and winced instead when she saw what was hanging around his neck. "Eat your sausages," she said. "You might have a hard day at the circus."
"Gladly. Ah, this looks delicious!" He sat down at the table and started to eat, taking in huge, sloppy mouthfuls of sausage and potatoes. Jo set a cup of hot, black coffee beside him and took her seat on the other side of the table. "It's good," he said with food in his mouth. "Very good."
"Slow down," Jo said. "You'll have an attack."
He nodded and kept eating. When he stopped to drink some coffee, she said, "Andy, you should take a Saturday off once in a while. You should relax, all this working and worrying isn't good for you. Why don't you call and tell them you're staying home today? We can go for a nice drive to the beach."
"I can't," he said, washing potatoes down his throat "Maybe next Saturday."
"You said that last week."
"Oh. Well, I meant it, but . . ." He lifted his gaze to hers. "You know why I have to go in. Someone might turn up something."
"They'll call you if they do." She watched him, her eyes bright and blue and alert. She was also worried about the dark hollows that had now appeared beneath Andy's eyes, about the new lines that had begun to snake across his face. He didn't sleep so well lately either, and
Similar Books
