"Spindler, Erica - In Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spindler Erica)

"What, Matt? I haven't been what?"

"Around a lot lately." He must have read the effect of his words in her expression and he caught her hands and held them tightly. "Your dad hadn't been himself for a while. He'd withdrawn, from everybody. Stayed in his house for days. When he went out he didn't speak. Would cross to the other side of the street to avoid conversation."

How could she not have known? "When?" she asked, hurting. "When did this start?"

"I suppose about the time he gave up his practice."

Just after her mother's death.

"Why didn't somebody call me? Why didn't—" She bit the words back and pressed her trembling lips together.

He squeezed her fingers. "It wasn't an overnight thing. At first he just seemed preoccupied. Or like he needed time to grieve. On his own. It wasn't until recently that people began to talk."

Avery turned her gaze to her father's overgrown garden. No wonder, she thought.

"I'm sorry, Avery. We all are."

She swung away from her old friend, working to hold on to her anger. Fighting tears.

She lost the battle.

"Aw, Avery. Geez." Matt went to her, drew her into his arms, against his chest. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder, crying like a baby.

He held her awkwardly. Stiffly. Every so often he patted her shoulder and murmured something comforting, though through her sobs she couldn't make out what.

The intensity of her tears lessened, then stopped. She drew away from him, embarrassed. "Sorry about that. It's...I thought I could handle it."

"Cut yourself some slack, Avery. Frankly, if you could handle it, I'd be a little worried about you."

Tears flooded her eyes once more and she brought her hand to her nose. "I need a tissue. Excuse me."

She headed toward her car, aware of him following. There, she rummaged in her purse, coming up with a rumpled Kleenex. She blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes, then faced him once more. "How could I not have known how bad off he was? Am I that self-involved?"

"None of us knew," he said gently. "And we saw him every day."

"But I was his daughter. I should have been able to tell, should have heard it in his voice. In what he said. Or didn't say."

"It's not your fault, Avery."

"No?" She realized her hands were shaking and slipped them into her pockets. "But I can't help wondering, if I had stayed in Cypress Springs, would he be alive today? If I'd given up my career and stayed after Mom's death, would he have staved off the depression that caused him to do...this? If I had simply picked up the pho-"

She swallowed the words, unable to speak them aloud. She met his gaze. "It hurts so much."

"Don't do this to yourself. You can't go back."

"I can't, can I?" She winced at the bitterness in her voice. "I loved my dad more than anyone in the world, yet I only came home a handful of times in all the years since college. Even after Mom
died so suddenly and so horribly, leaving so much unresolved between us. That should have been a wake-up call, but it wasn't."