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Show page 170 the bottle, in the drip-drop of yesterday. Eight, no,ten years ago my son had this room,' It's terrible to hear." While Holder and the daughter talked, Annie relived a different time. She stood at her dining table, talking to Will, Will of eternal cosmic dust. "Here's your breakfast, Will. We must use our dining table, Will." But she held only a cup of coffee, which she drank herself after dropping to a chair like a rag. "If it's not a boy, Will, will you be disappointed? Tell me, Will. You won't blame me too much? Oh God, thirty five years ago'. A million years ago!" Actually, with Annie the time was too near. Her baby again was kicking her fertile, yearning flesh, eager to be free. Will was proud, feeling her body, rubbing her, listening, his ear flat against her navel. I swear to God I hear him breathe, Ann. "As if Will really could," said Annie and laughed drunkenly. She could not escape the tlmewhorls of mind.She rattled on, talking to her dead husband. She tilted her bottle again, roamed from room to room of her house, awaiting Holder's return. As night darkened she became more furtive, peering from her kitchen window and then hurrying to the front door to peer from it. "Ben boy, you come on home now," she said. "You come on back to your room in Annie's house. You'll be comfortable, boy. And you can help me watch those scamps Hawkins and Shumack." But Holder was intrigued with the Shelton's daughter. "The son, what was he?" he asked. "A corporal." "An/iTTerTiu^band waSkassociate warden?" |