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Show the good feeling. But Leah couldn't sleep. She kept getting up, going to the window, staring out into the new bruise-colored snow, clutching her belly through her robe, walking down the hall to the bathroom, flushing something, walking back, standing at the window, reentering only briefly the bed, moving back again to the window. "Are you all right?" Hunt asked her. "No." "Come back to bed." "No." "Please." "No." "Take a Librium." "Why?" "You'll feel better." "I don't know that I want to." And so Hunt sat up most of the night, watching her in the dark, listening to her cry. It was a kind of crying he had never heard from Leah before: far away and darkly guttural. She sounded shot. She sounded as if there were something foreign lodged in her causing a rubbing, abrading pain. He got up out of the shadowed bed and tried to hold her. "No," she said. "Why?" |
