Cards on the Table - lanyon Josh - Страница 37
- Предыдущая
- 37/47
- Следующая
Two black-haired boys with freckles on their noses came running out of the general store when they saw him, shrieking, «Uncle Sebastian! Uncle Sebastian!»
Susan's twin boys were just finishing an exciting first year of school, and it was rumored that the kindergarten teacher was requesting early retirement.
Sebastian held his arms out, and each boy hung on to a forearm. He lifted them off the ground by his arms, swung them around and around until they went flying off, tumbling over each other in the grass.
«Be careful!» Peter warned, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe off muddy hands and faces.
Sebastian grinned at him. «Want me to toss you around, too?» He rubbed a shoulder as the boys scrambled up again and flung themselves at him, hugging him ferociously around the waist. «Actually, I probably won't be able to do that much longer.» He addressed the boys, his big hands stroking their black hair. «I think you two are gonna be bigger than me when you grow up! When's your birthday again?»
«It's June first, Uncle Sebastian.» Sam had lost his front teeth, and Peter bent over for a closer look. James gave a jack-o'-lantern grin; his teeth were gone, too. «Why do you want to know about our birthday, Uncle Sebastian?» «Oh, no reason. None at all.»
The boys giggled behind their hands. «Uncle Sebastian, did mom say anything to you? About Super Mario Brothers for Nintendo DS?»
«Never heard of it. But I might have something else that will be just about old enough by June the first. We'll see. Where are you two supposed to be?»
James was carrying a plastic grocery bag with a can of evaporated milk. He held it up. «Better get home, then. Dad's cooking for you, huh?» «Hamburger Helper! Double Cheeseburger Macaroni!»
In the store Peter went over to the tangerines. They were glowing like a basket of bright orange jewels against the weathered gray boards. Everyone in the store stopped what they were doing to talk to Sebastian and shake his hand. A younger man Peter didn't know pulled Sebastian aside, asked him about his dogs.
«Man, I couldn't believe it when I heard you were retiring! Sampson said he got a couple of your yearlings, and I heard Douglas got some, too. What have you got left? Any puppies? You still gonna train some young ones?»
Sebastian shook his head, glancing briefly at Peter, who stood frozen, a tangerine in each hand. «Sorry, man. You're too late.» He reached for the waistband of Peter's corduroy trousers, tugged him over until he could wrap an arm around Peter's waist and pull him in close to his chest. «You know Peter Moon? Peter, this is Stone Macalister.»
«Hello.» Peter didn't offer a hand, hearing something in Sebastian's voice. Stone appeared frozen in shock, then he jerked like an electrical wire had just touched his ass. «Right! Well, okay, good to see you, man.»
They watched him scramble out the door. Sebastian kept his arm around Peter's waist, kept him pinned against his chest. «I hate that prick. I know somebody who saw him spank one of his dogs with a trail marker.»
«Retired?» Peter asked quietly. «You've dispersed your stables? Were you going to share your plans with me, Sebastian?»
Sebastian turned him around, put a rough hand to his cheek. «You are my plans, Peter. But you've been kind of busy the last couple of days. I came because Susan called me, told me some kid was sleeping in my bed. But I've been coming back to you for my whole life. This time I was getting ready to come back for good. Do not fucking tell me I'm too late.» «Sebastian…»
Sebastian jerked him closer, kissed him on the mouth, and Peter could feel something simmering, taste passion and anger and a whole stew of emotions on Sebastian's mouth.
Peter heard giggles behind him, turned around to see a couple of teenaged girls watching them. Their hair was elaborately braided and curled, and they were wearing enough eye makeup for Las Vegas. Were they young Elvis tribute artists in training, or just teenaged girls after school?
«Forget it, he's mine!» Sebastian glowered at them, and the girls laughed out loud at this piece of nonsense. * * * * *
«What's the matter with you? I've never known you to not want to talk. In fact, most of the time I can't shut you up.» Sebastian spit a tangerine seed toward some of the Sitka spruce trees that stood tall and dark as Masai warriors, lining the road home. They had just had a short-lived argument over the question: was it littering to toss tangerine seeds and peel into the woods? Peter carefully placed his seeds into his handkerchief.
«Nothing's wrong.» Too many shocks, that's what it was. Peter's legs felt numb, like he was tottering home on peg legs. The EMS radio clipped to his belt kept bumping into his thigh and emitting high-pitched squeaks, and Peter finally reached down and clicked the off button. He had weekend duty with the volunteer fire department. «Susan says we have a problem with rape. We do? Who knew about it? I look around town, and I wonder which of these men could be rapists. I've known them for years. If they could be rapists, they could be killers. I just… It's so ugly, Sebastian. It's ugly and I hate it and I feel like closing and locking the doors of the hotel, not letting anyone in who might be a killer. Or who might be killed. I even feel mad at Jacob. He couldn't just enjoy himself and then get on a plane to Montreal and go have a wonderful life? No, he had to be killed here, and I don't want his ghost roaming around the hotel forever, looking for revenge or something. I mean, I just had a night. A night and a day, and it was lovely and precious and I don't want it ruined…»
«You don't have to explain yourself, Peter. I never asked you to… Well. I never asked you. It never occurred to me that I needed to, so that just goes to show me, doesn't it? I guess I'm kind of glad you had someone. Someone sweet and gentle is the way Jacob sounds, someone more like you. I wonder sometimes how mad you get when I show up with six months' worth of dirty laundry and a bunch of sled dogs, mess up your pretty house, mess up your pretty life. Make you put your books down and come to bed.»
«Ha. That's how much you know. I can prop a book up on your shoulder, never miss a page. I don't mind your dogs or your laundry or any of that, Sebastian. I never have. But I do mind you being gone. This time seemed…long. Too long, like more than I could bear. A couple of times this winter I thought, this is what it would feel like if he was gone for good. Like you were gone for good and I didn't have anything to look forward to. You know what I'm talking about?»
Sebastian shook his head. «Tell me some more. I like this little peek into your head.» «Did you mean it, what you said back at the store? About coming to stay?» «Yeah, I meant it.» «You're not still mad at me?» «Maybe a little. I'll deal with it.»
«I guess what I want to know is why this time is any different from the other times you've come to stay?»
«I sold all my dogs, Peter.» Sebastian was starting to sound pissed, raked both his hands back through his black hair. «And correct me if I'm wrong, Peter, but have I ever told you I was retiring from racing? Have I ever said before…» «All right. I get your point.»
«No, I don't think you do. Because I don't break my word, I've never broken my word to you, ever, so I don't see where you get off acting like you don't trust me all of a sudden.» «I trust you.»
«You've been having an argument with me the entire winter, and I wasn't even here! That's what it sounds like to me. If you're gonna yell at me, Peter, you're gonna have to do it to my face, give us a chance to kiss and make up. You asked me if I'm mad at you. Maybe the better question is why are you so mad at me.»
They walked on quietly, the road soft underfoot, the woods around them lush with grass and ferns and tiny wild strawberries, and the trilling sounds of spring birds. Peter took his hand. «I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Sebastian.»
- Предыдущая
- 37/47
- Следующая
