dk.coldfire-第35章

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　it　in　half　when　it　was　done。　
　While　Holly　monitored　the　progress　of　the　whole…wheat　bread　in　the　toaster；　she　said；　〃Why　would　God　want　you　to　save　Susie　and　her　mother　out　there　in　the　desert…but　not　the　girl's　father？〃　〃I　don't　know。〃　
　〃The　father　wasn't　a　bad　man；　was　he？〃　〃No。　Didn't　seem　to　be。〃　
　〃So　why　not　save　them　all？〃　〃If　He　wants　me　to　know；　He'll　tell　me。〃　
　Jim's　certainty　about　being　in　God's　good　grace　and　under　His　guidance；　and　his　easy　acceptance　that　God　wanted　some　people　to　die　and　not　others；　made　Holly　uneasy。　
　On　the　other　hand；　how　could　he　react　to　his　extraordinary　experience　in　any　other　way？　No　point　in　arguing　with　God。　
　She　recalled　an　old　saying；　a　real　chestnut　that　had　bee　a　cliche　in　the　hands　of　the　pop　psych　crowd：　God　grant　me　the　courage　to　change　those　things　I　can't　accept；　to　accept　those　things　I　can't　change；　and　the　wisdom　to　know　the　difference。　Cliche　or　not；　that　was　an　eminently　sane　attitude。　
　When　the　two　pieces　of　bread　popped　up；　she　plucked　them　from　the　toaster。　As　she　toasted　two　more；　she　said；　〃If　God　wanted　to　save　Nicholas　O'Conner　from　being　fried　when　that　power…pany　vault　went　up；　why　didn't　He　just　prevent　it　from　exploding　in　the　first　place？〃　〃I　don't　know。〃　
　〃Doesn't　it　seem　odd　to　you　that　God　has　to　use　you；　run　you　clear　across　the　country；　throw　you　at　the　O'Conner　boy　an　instant　before　that　17；000…volt　line　blows　up？　Why　couldn't　He　just。　。　。　oh；　I　don't　know。　
　。　。　just　spit　on　the　cable　or　something；　fix　it　up　with　a　little　divine　saliva　before　it　went　blooey？　Or　instead　of　sending　you　all　the　way　to　Atlanta　to　kill　Norman　Rink　in　that　convenience　store；　why　didn't　God　just　tweak　Norman's　brain　a　little；　give　him　a　timely　stroke？〃　Jim　artfully　tilted　the　pan　to　turn　over　the　omelette。　〃Why　did　He　make　mice　to　torment　people　and　cats　to　kill　the　mice？　Why　did　He　create　aphids　that　kill　plants；　then　ladybugs　to　eat　the　aphids？　And　why　didn't　He　give　us　eyes　in　the　back　of　our　head…when　He　gave　us　so　many　reasons　to　need　them　there？〃　She　finished　lightly　buttering　the　first　two　slices　of　toast。　〃I　see　what　you're　saying。　God　works　in　mysterious　ways。〃　
　〃Very。〃　
　They　ate　at　the　breakfast　table。　In　addition　to　toast；　they　had　sliced　tomatoes　and　cold　bottles　of　Corona　with　the　omelettes。　
　The　purple　cloth　of　twilight　slid　across　the　world　outside；　and　the　undraped　form　of　night　began　to　reveal　itself　Holly　said；　〃You　aren't　entirely　a　puppet　in　these　situations。〃　
　〃Yes；　I　am。〃　
　〃You　have　some　power　to　determine　the　oute。〃　
　〃None。〃　
　〃Well；　God　sent　you　on　Flight　Two　forty…six　to　save　just　the　Dubroveks。〃　
　〃That's　right。〃　
　〃But　then　you　took　matters　into　your　own　hands　and　saved　more　than　just　Christine　and　Casey。　How　many　were　supposed　to　die？〃　〃A　hundred　and　fifty…one。〃　
　〃And　how　many　actually　died？〃　〃Forty…seven。〃　
　〃Okay；　so　you　saved　a　hundred　and　two　more　lives　than　He　sent　you　to　save。〃　
　〃A　hundred　and　three；　counting　yours…but　only　because　He　allowed　me　to　do　it；　helped　me　to　do　it。〃　
　〃What…you're　saying　God　wanted　you　to　save　just　the　Dubroveks；　but　then　He　changed　His　mind？〃　〃I　guess　so。〃　
　〃God　isn't　sure　what　He　wants？〃　〃I　don't　know。〃　
　〃God　is　sometimes　confused？〃　〃I　don't　know。〃　
　〃God　is　a　waffler？〃　〃Holly；　I　just　don't　know。〃　
　〃Good　omelette。〃　
　〃Thank　you。〃　
　〃I　have　trouble　understanding　why　God　would　ever　change　His　mind　about　anything。　After　all；　He's　infallible；　right？　So　He　can't　have　made　the　wrong　decision　the　first　time。〃　
　〃I　don't　concern　myself　with　questions　like　that。　I　just　don't　think　about　it。〃　
　〃Obviously；〃　she　said。　
　He　glared　at　her；　and　she　felt　the　full　effect　of　his　eyes　in　their　arctic　mode。　Then　focusing　on　his　food　and　beer；　he　refused　to　respond　to　Holly's　next　few　conversational　gambits。　
　She　realized　that　she　was　no　closer　to　winning　his　trust　than　she　had　been　when　he　had　reluctantly　invited　her　in　from　the　patio。　He　was　still　judging　her；　and　on　points　she　was　probably　losing。　What　she　needed　was　a　solid　knockout　punch；　and　she　thought　she　knew　what　it　was；　but　she　didn't　want　to　use　it　until　the　right　moment。　
　When　Jim　finished　eating；　he　looked　up　from　his　empty　plate　and　said；　〃Okay；　I've　listened　to　your　pitch；　I've　fed　you；　and　now　I　want　you　to　go。〃　
　〃No；　you　don't。〃　
　He　blinked。　〃Miss　Thorne…〃　〃You　called　me　Holly　before。〃　
　〃Miss　Thorne；　please　don't　make　me　throw　you　out。〃　
　〃You　don't　want　me　to　go；〃　Holly　said；　striving　to　sound　more　confident　than　she　felt。　〃At　all　the　scenes　of　these　rescues；　you've　given　only　your　first　name。　No　one's　learned　anything　more　about　you。　
　Except　me。　You　told　me　you　lived　in　southern　California。　You　told　me　your　last　name　was　Ironheart。〃　
　〃I　never　said　you　were　a　bad　reporter。　You're　good　at　prying　information〃　〃I　didn't　pry。　You　gave　it。　And　if　it　wasn't　something　you　wanted　to　give；　a　grizzly　bear　with　an　engineering　degree　and　crowhar　couldn't　pry　it　out　of　you。　I　want　another　beer。〃　
　〃I　asked　you　to　go。〃　
　〃Don't　stir　yourself　I　know　where　you　keep　the　suds。〃　
　She　got　up；　stepped　to　the　refrigerator；　and　withdrew　another　bottle　of　Corona。　She　was　walking　on　the　wild　side　now；　at　least　for　her；　but　a　third　beer　gave　her　an　excuse…even　if　a　flimsy　one　to　stay　and　argue　with　him。　
　She　had　downed　three　bottles　last　night；　at　the　motel　cocktail　lounge　in　Dubuque。　But　then　she　had　still　been　saturated　with　adrenaline；　as　superalert　and　edgy　as　a　Siamese　cat　on　Benzedrine；　which　canceled　out　the　alcohol　as　fast　as　it　entered　her　bloodstream。　
　Even　so；　she　had　hit　the　bed　as　hard　as　a　lumberjack　who'd　downed　a　dozen　boilermakers。　If　she　passed　out　on　Ironheart；　she'd　no　doubt　wake　up　in　her　car；　out　in　the　street；　and　she　would　never　get　inside　his　house　again。　She　opened　the　beer　and　returned　to　the　table　with　it。　
　〃You　wanted　me　to　find　you；〃　she　said　as　she　sat　down。　
　He　regarded　her　with　all　the　warmth　of　a　dead　penguin　frozen　to　an　ice　flow。　〃I　did；　huh？〃　〃Absolutely。　That's　why　you　told　me　your　last　name　and　where　I　could　find　you。〃　
　He　said　nothing。　
　〃And　you　remember　your　last　words　to　me　at　the　airport　in　Portland？〃　〃No。〃　
　〃It　was　the　best　e…on　line　any　guy's　ever　dropped　on　me。〃　
　He　waited。　
　She　made　him　wait　a　little　longer　while　she　took　a　sip　of　beer　straight　from　the　bottle。　〃Just　before　you　closed　the　car　door　and　went　into　the　terminal；　you　said；　So　are　you；　Miss　Thorne。'〃　〃Doesn't　sound　like　much　of　a　e…on　line　to　me。〃　
　〃It　was　romantic　as　hell。〃　
　〃　So　are　you；　Miss　Thorne。〃　And　what　had　you　just　said　to　me。　
　You're　an　asshole；　Mr。　Ironheart'？〃　〃Ho；　ho；　ho；〃　she　said。　〃Try　to　spoil　it；　go　ahead；　but　you　can't。　
　I'd　told　you　that　your　modesty　was　refreshing；　and　you　said；　So　are　you；　Miss　Thorne。〃　My　heart　just　now　went　pitty…pat…pitty…pat　again；　remembering　it。　
　Oh；　you　knew　just　what　you　were　doing；　you　smoothie。　Told　me　your　name；　told　me　where　you　lived；　gave　me　a　lot　of　those　eyes；　those　damned　eyes；　played　coy；　then　hit　me　with　So　are　you；　Miss　Thorne；'　and　walked　away　like　Bogart。〃　
　〃I　don't　think　you　should　have　any　more　of　that　beer。〃　
　〃Yeah？　Well；　I　think　I'll　sit　here　all　night；　drinking　one　of　'em　after　another。〃　
　He　sighed。　〃In　that　case；　I'd　better　have　another　one　myself〃　He　got　another　beer　and　sat　down　again。　
　Holly　figured　she　was　making　progress。　
　Or　maybe　he　was　setting　her　up。　Maybe　getting　cozy　over　Corona　was　a　trick　of　some　kind。　He　was　clever；　all　right。　Maybe　he　was　going　to　try　to　drink　her　under　the　table。　Well；　he'd　lose　that　one；　because　she'd　be　under　the　table　long　before　him！　〃You　wanted　me　to　find　you；〃　she　told　him。　
　He　said　nothing。　
　〃You　know　why　you　wanted　me　to　find　you？〃　He　said　nothing。　
　〃You　wanted　me　to　find　you　because　you　really　did　think　I　was　refreshing；　and　you're　the　loneliest；　sorriest　guy　between　here　and　Hardrock；　Missouri。〃　
　He　said　nothing。　He　was　good　at　that。　He　was　the　best　guy　in　the　world　at　saying　nothing　at　just　the　right　time。　
　She　said；　〃You　make　me　want　to　smack　you。〃　
　He　said　nothing。　
　Whatever　confidence　the　Corona　had　given　her　suddenly　began　to　drain　away。　She　sensed　that　she　was　losing　again。　For　a　couple　of　rounds；　there；　she　had　definitely　been　winning　on　points；　but　now　she　was　being　beaten　back　by　his　silence。　
　〃Why　are　all　these　boxing　metaphors　running　through　my　head？〃　she　asked　him。　〃I　hate　boxing。〃　
　He　slugged　down　some　of　his　Corona　and；　with　a　nod；　indicated　her　bottle；　from　which　she　had　drunk　only　a　third。　〃You　really　insist　on　finishing　that？〃　〃Hell；　yes。〃　She　was　aware　that　the　brewski　was　beginning　to　affect　her；　perhaps　dangerously；　but　she　was　still　plenty　sober　enough　to　recognize　that　the　moment　had　e　for　her　knockout　punch。　〃If　you　don't　tell　me　about　that　place；　I'm　going　to　sit　here　and　drink　myself　into　a　fat；　slovenly；　alcoholic　old　crone。　I'm　going　to　die　here　at　the　age　of　eighty…two；　with　a　liver　the　size　of　Vermont。〃　
　〃Place？〃　He　looked　baffled。　〃What　place？〃　Now。　She　chose　a　soft　but　clear　whisper　in　which　to　deliver　the　punch：　〃The　windmill。〃　
　He　didn't　exactly　fall　to　the　canvas；　and　no　cartoon　stars　swarmed　around　his　head；　but　Holly　could　see　that　he　had　been　rocked。　
　〃You've　been　to　the　windmill？〃　he　asked。　
　〃No。　You　mean　it's　a　real　place？〃　〃If　you　don't　know　that　much；　then　how　could　you　know　about　it　at　all？〃　〃Dreams。　Windmill　dreams。　Each　of　the　last　three　nights。〃　
　He　paled。　The　overhead　light　was　not　on。　They　were　sitting　in　shadows；　illuminated　only　by　the　secondhand　glow　of　the　rangehood　and　sink　lights　in　the　kitchen　and　by　a　table　lamp　in　the　adjacent　family　room；　but　Holly　saw　him　go　pale　under　his　tan。　His　face　seemed　to　hover　before　her　in　the　gloom　like　the　face…shaped　wing　configuration　of　a　big　snow…white　moth。　
　The　extraordinary　vividness　and　unusual　nature　of　the　nightmare…and　the　fact　that　the　effects　of　the　dream　had　continued　after　she　had　awakened　in　her　motel　room…had　encouraged　her　to　believe　that　it　was　somehow　connected　with　Jim　Ironheart。　Two　encounters　with　the　paranormal　in　such　close　succession　had　to　be　linked。　But　she　was　relieved；　all　the　same；　when　his　stunned　reaction　confirmed　her　suspicion。　
　〃Limestone　walls；〃　she　said。　〃Wooden　floor。　A　heavy　wooden　door；　banded　in　iron；　that　opens　on　some　limestone　steps。　A　yellow　candle　in　a　blue　dish。〃　
　〃I've　dreamed　about　it　for　years；〃　he　said　softly。　〃Once　or　twice　a　month。　Never　more　often　than　that。　Until　the　last　three　nights。　But　how　can　we　be　having　the　same　dream？〃　〃Where's　the　real　windmill？〃　〃On　my　grandparents'　farm。　North　of　Santa　Barbara。　In　the　Santa　Ynez　Valley。〃　
　〃Did　something　terrible　happen　to　you　there；　or　what？〃　He　shook　his　head。　〃No。　Not　at　all。　I　loved　that　place。　It　was。　。　
　。　a　sanctuary。〃　
　〃Then　why　did　you　go　pale　when　I　mentioned　it？〃　〃Did　I？〃　〃Picture　an　albino　cat　chasing　a　mouse　around　a　corner　and　running　into　a　Doberman。　That　pale。〃　
　〃Well；　when　I　dream　of　the　mill；　it's　always　frightening…〃　〃Don't　I　know　it。　But　if　it　was　a　good　place　in　your　life；　a　sanctuary　like　you　say；　then　why　does　it　feature　in　nightmares？〃　〃I　don't　know。〃　
　〃Here　we　go　again。〃　
　〃I　really　don't；〃　he　insisted。　〃Why　did　you　dream　about　it；　if　you've　never　even　be