"Christine W. Murphy - Through Iowa Glass" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Christine W)

"That's it. In front anyway. From the back it looks like an Italian
villa. Whoever designed this place was schizophrenic or just plain crazy."
She expected Alex to answer with some joke; instead, he frowned and
reached for his duffel. When he opened the truck door, Dirk's dog barked. Alex
got out slowly and joined her on the front walk. He stopped a few steps from
the truck.
"The dog belongs to my son Dirk. He has an Old English sheepdog.
Harmless puppies, all of them. The woman who owns this house breeds them."
Still not moving, Alex stood black and featureless against the glare of
the yard lights.
"You really are a cat person, aren't you," she said. "I'll go first and
lock up Henry. Give me a minute."
She didn't wait to see if Alex followed. After coaxing Henry upstairs
and checking on Dirk, she returned with sheets, a blanket and pillow. She had
stored the good furniture in rooms they didn't use, and put an old sofa
downstairs for Dirk to sit on when he watched TV. Alex would find popcorn
between the cushions, but it would serve for one night.
Something about the silence when she entered, set her on tiptoe. Alex
stood in the middle of the dark anteroom. Unaware of her, he spun slowly on
his heel. When he came to rest, he lowered his duffel to the floor and
unzipped his jacket. With his arms outspread, he turned again in the darkened
room.
Skye felt as if she were witness to some ancient ritual. She slipped
the bed linens onto the sofa. Before she turned to go, she saw tears form in
his eyes. When she walked away, his voice whispered behind her.
"Welcome home, Alex."
--------
*Chapter Two*
A MALE VOICE called from halfway up the stairs. "Skye! Breakfast is
ready."
Skye stretched and tried to pull herself awake. Why couldn't the man
let her sleep? She smiled as she pictured Ben at the stove, burning her
breakfast.
The voice called again. "Hurry up, Skye. You know how you hate cold
eggs."
She mumbled "coming." When she heard footsteps retreat to the kitchen,
she burrowed under the blankets.
Then it hit her. The voice pulling her from her dreams wasn't her
stepson Dirk's adolescent croak. A man had called her.
A quick look at the clock before she brushed her teeth, elicited a
groan. After eight. A stranger in her house, David due to drop off his little
sister Christy, Sheldon expected for coffee. What a morning to oversleep!
By the time she tucked her tee-shirt into her jeans and ran downstairs,
the kitchen was empty. Or almost empty. Christy sat perched on a stool,
devouring a plate of pancakes.
Skye looked for fast-food containers. She found a pile of dirty dishes
instead. "Where did you get those, sweety?"
"Alex made them just for me, and he didn't make any for you." Christy
stuck out her tongue and giggled.
So Alex had made a friend. Skye stuck out her tongue in return.