"L. Lee Lowe - Mortal Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe L Lee)

'Then how on earth could you skate like that?'

'I don't know.'

Sarah snorted. 'Any other things you don't know how to do? Neurosurgery? Piloting the space shuttle?
Diamond cutting? Or what about classical Greek? I bet you whip through Sophocles between beers. Oh that's
right. You don't drink.'

'Don't exaggerate. I read a bit of German. It's no big deal. I happen to enjoy Rilke.' He looked at her shrewdly.
'You can't tell me that no one in your family opens a book. Your mother quoted Shakespeare to me this
morning.'

'You're changing the subject.'

'Yeah, that's another thing I'm rather good at.'

Sarah couldn't help grinning. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him for long. 'Well, I hope you're good at
maths too. I could certainly use some help once school begins.'

He frowned and looked away.

Shit, she thought. There I go again. Open mouth, insert foot. She hurried to make up for her misstep. 'Ursula
doesn't just make sundials. She lectures part-time at university. Landscape design.'

'Is she from Germany?' Jesse asked.

'Berlin, originally. But her partner's local.' She regarded Jesse thoughtfully, as if to gauge his reaction.

'If you're trying to tell me she's lesbian, I'm not going to fall over in a dead faint.'
Chapter 5 39

'Good. It's sometimes hard to predict how people take it.'

'There's nothing to take. It's a completely personal matter.'

Sarah thought how easy it was to talk to Jesse when he wasn't being secretive, or defensive. Like a brother,
almost. Her throat tightened. Then she recalled his earlier comment. 'What did you mean by fitting?'

No answer. He had tilted his head, listening to the musicians and either didn't hear her question, or didn't want
to hear. Sarah resolved to locate a copy of the poem at the next opportunity or ask Ursula upon her return.
Come to think of it, her father liked poetry. And spoke German. He might know. Autumn Day, she repeated to
herself.

But Jesse was right. The trumpeter was impressive. Sarah began to pay attention. She'd had a good five years
of piano lessons -- not that anything much had taken -- but as a dancer she'd learned quite a bit about music.
She let herself be carried away by the intricacies of the riffs, by the voice of the trumpet rising above the other
instruments like an unbroken spiral of sound, keen as a metal shaving, fluid as a river. Vaguely she was aware
that Jesse had moved closer to the musicians, Nubi at his side, but otherwise she lost all sense of time and
place as the music swept her along. She imagined a few steps, then a dance ... in blue ...