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Show 126 The vision of his sons focused again, and he held them. They seemed immune. They seemed adrift in some kind of weightless brotherhood. Damn! Things had seemed so much . . . fuller, closer, better: Hunt's mind rummaged for the word. Was there really . . . was there truly something whole and calm at the center of Hunt's and Leah's relationship that had formed this? This kinship? These boys? Hunt knew she wondered. Hunt knew Leah was watching them too, hearing them -- their game, their laughing. Now they were rehearsing a routine from Monty Python. Just plunge on, Hunt thought. Just get through it. And so he said, "Rex wanted . . . Our neighbor, Rex, wanted ..." Would she know? Would she understand that he, in his own way, was trying to secure the small boat she drifted in? With information? With facts about the first telephone call? "He asked . "To borrtfw my pantyhose?" He had a chance, Hunt knew, with any vestige of humor. "No - No, he asked of I would come over. To his house. To their house. And talk." Leah turned back and looked at him. Her eyes were bruised and sad. She was lonely for some kind of life on'the planet. "Just . . . neighbor to neighbor?" she asked. Rex Schoefield offered Hunt a drink. Hunt declined. Rex offered coffee, "That's fine," Hunt said. "Just black. Where's your wife?" "Well ..." Rex engaged the gears of a response. "Busy?" Hunt tried. "No, actually, she's . . ." |