"Robert F. Young - The Dandelion Girl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

"But you'll try to come, won't you?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'll try. And Mr. Randolph?"

"Yes, Julie?"

"In case I don't make it—and for the record—I love you."

She was gone then; running lightly down the hill, and a moment later she disappeared into the grove of
sugar maples. His hands were trembling when he lighted his pipe, and the match burned his fingers.
Afterward he could not remember returning to the cabin or fixing supper or going to bed, and yet he must
have done all of those things, because he awoke in his own room, and when he went into the kitchen,
there were supper dishes standing on the drainboard.

He washed the dishes and made coffee. He spent the morning fishing off the pier, keeping his mind blank.
He would face reality later. Right now it was enough for him to know that she loved him, that in a few
short hours he would see her again. Surely even a run-down time machine should have no trouble
transporting her from the hamlet to the hill.

He arrived there early and sat down on the granite bench and waited for her to come out of the woods
and climb the slope. He could feel the hammering of his heart and he knew that his hands were
trembling. Day before yesterday I saw a rabbit, and yesterday a deer, and today, you.

He waited and he waited, but she did not come. She did not come the next day either. When the
shadows began to lengthen and the air grow chill, he descended the hill and entered the grove of sugar
maples. Presently he found a path, and he followed it into the forest proper and through the forest to the
hamlet. He stopped at the small post office and checked to see if he had any mail. After the wizened
postmaster told him there was none, he lingered for a moment. "Is—is there a family by the name of
Danvers living anywhere around here?" he blurted.

The postmaster shook his head. "Never heard of them."

"Has there been a funeral in town recently?"

"Not for nigh onto a year."

After that, although he visited the hill every afternoon till his vacation ran out, he knew in his heart that she
would not return, that she was lost to him as utterly as if she had never been. Evenings he haunted the
hamlet, hoping desperately that the postmaster had been mistaken; but he saw no sign of Julie, and the
description he gave of her to the passersby evoked only negative responses.

Early in October he returned to the city. He did his best to act toward Anne as though nothing had
changed between them; but she seemed to know the minute she saw him that something had changed.
And although she asked no questions, she grew quieter and quieter as the weeks went by, and the fear in
her eyes that had puzzled him before became more and more pronounced.

He began driving into the country Sunday afternoons and visiting the hilltop. The woods were golden
now, and the sky was even bluer than it had been a month ago. For hours he sat on the granite bench,
staring at the spot where she had disappeared. Day before yesterday I saw a rabbit, and yesterday a