"Kate Wilhelm - Hounds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

I didn't want to talk about him. It was a lie. He didn't die until I was eleven."

Martin didn't say anything, and reluctantly she lowered the magazine again. "I'm sorry. But after I told
you that, back in the beginning, I was stuck with it. I'm glad it came out finally."

"Do you want to talk about him?"

"No. Not really. He drank a lot. He and mother fought like animals most of the time. Then he died in a
car accident. Drunk driving, hit a truck head on, killed himself, nearly killed the driver of the truck.
Period. When I was fourteen she married again, and this time it was to a rich man."

"Did she love Eddie?"

"Eddie was the practical one," Rose Ellen said. "She married for love the first time, for practical reasons
the second time. The second one was better. They've been peaceful together. No more fights. No more
dodging bill collectors. Like that."

"Did she love him?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, but it didn't matter."

Martin didn't say any more, and she wondered about her mother and her second husband. Had it
mattered? She didn't know. She turned pages of the magazine without looking at them, and Martin's
voice startled her.

"Sometimes I think we should fight now and then," he said. "I wonder sometimes what all you're bottling
up."

"Me? You know we discuss everything."

"Discuss isn't what I mean. We discuss only after you get quiet and stay quiet long enough to come to a
decision. I'd like to know sometimes what all goes on in that head of yours while you're in the process of
deciding."

She laughed and stood up. "Right now all that's in my head is the fact that I want a bath and bed."

She was at the door to the kitchen when Martin asked, "What did your father do?"

She stopped. Without turning around again she said, "He had a small farm. Nothing else."

She soaked for a while and thought about his words. It was true that they never fought. He hadn't lived
with two people who did fight, or he'd never say anything like that. She knew it was better to be civilized
and give in. She was a good wife, she told herself soberly. A good wife. And she was adaptable. He
had taken her from Atlanta to Florida, from there to Kentucky. So be it. She could get along no matter
where they lived, or what they did. One of them had to, she said sharply in her mind. She had been a
silent observer in her own house, then in her step-father's house for years. It was better that way. She let
the water out and rubbed herself briskly. At the bathroom door she saw that Martin had come up, their
light was on. She paused for a few seconds, then went downstairs to read. She had been more tired than
sleepy, she decided. Actually it was quite early.
****