"Holly Lisle - World Gates 03 - Gods Old and Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lisle Holly)

thought. East, and maybe south, too, though at the moment east was strongest.

“I don’t? How do you figure that? I’m living in your house, unless you forgot.”

“It’s your house,” he said. “I bought it for you. It’s all in your name, and paid for. I didn’t
want you to not have anything when I had to go.”



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Suddenly she was crying. “What happened? Did you kill somebody? Have you been in
hiding? Have the police or something tracked you down?”

“Nancy, I just have to go. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I knew eventually I was going
to find what I was looking for, and when I found it, I was going to have to leave.”

Weeping on the other end of the phone. He could just imagine the looks Nancy was
getting from the patrons in First National. She had one of those pitiful glass-walled offices
that let everyone look in; he thought her job would have to be like working in a fishbowl
or being on display at a zoo. He wouldn’t have been a banker for any amount of money,
but banking was regular work, and the bank was warm in the winter and cool in the
summer, and that mattered a lot to Nancy.

“Who is she?” Nancy whispered. “What’s her name?”

He was going to war, and her mind was jumping to other women. Well, of course she’d
think that. What did she know of war?

Heyr, following the road, heading east, smelled the scent of new life, of fresh beginnings,
of rebirth, and the thought occurred to him that maybe it would be easier for Nancy if he
was leaving her for another woman—if she could tell her friends what a dog he’d been,
how sneaky for having a long-distance affair under her nose, and if she could hate him and
bad-mouth him and feel justified.

“Her name’s…Hope,” Heyr said. “You don’t know her. She lives out east.”

More sobbing, some words Heyr didn’t even know that Nancy knew, and then she seemed
to pull herself together. “We have four good years behind us, and I thought we had a lot of
good years ahead of us. I’m leaving work now, and I’ll see you when you get home, and
we’re going to talk about this. You and I—we’re worth fighting for.”

He sighed. “I’m not coming home. I…won’t see you again. I’m sorry. You can throw out
all my things if you want. Or sell them. Or keep them.” He’d reached the edge of town,
and wild Wisconsin spread before him, hills and fields and forest. The road curled
eastward, black and smooth and narrow, rolling up at the horizon into a copse of trees. “I
have to go now, Nancy. You’ll find the deed to the house and some money I left for you
and some other things in the red box under my side of the bed. The key for the box is in