sk.cujo-第36部分

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ling　on　about　her　Pinto's　carburetor　and　a　spilled　bottle　of　ketchup。
'Yeah；　it　sounds　like　the　needle　valve；　okay；'　Vic　said。　He　actually　sounded　a　little　better　now。　A　little　less　down。　Maybe　because　it　was　a　problem　which　mattered　so　little　in　the　greater　perspective　of　things　which　they　had　now　been　forced　to　deal　with。　'Couldn't　Joe　Camber　get　you　in　today？'
'I　tried　him　but　he　wasn't　home。'
'He　probably　was；　though；'　Vic　said。　'There's　no　phone　in　his　garage。　Usually　his　wife　or　his　kid　runs　his　messages　out　to　him。　Probably　they　were　out　someplace。'
'Well；　he　still　might　be　gone　…'
'Sure；'　Vic　said。　'But　I　really　doubt　it；　babe。　If　a　human　being　could　actually　put　down　roots；　Joe　Camber's　the　guy　that　would　do　it。'
'Should　I　just　take　a　chance　and　drive　out　there？'　Donna　asked　doubtfully。　She　was　thinking　of　the　empty　miles　along　117　and　the　Maple　Sugar　Road　。。。　and　all　that　was　before　you　got　to　Camber's　road；　which　was　so　far　out　it　didn't　even　have　a　name。　And　if　that　needle　valve　chose　a　stretch　of　that　desolation　in　which　to　pack　up　for　good；　it　would　just　make　another　hassle。
'No；　I　guess　you　better　not；'　Vic　said。　'He's　probably　there　。。。　unless　you　really　need　him。　In　which　case　he'd　be　gone。　Catch…22。'　He　sounded　depressed。
'Then　what　should　I　do？'
'Call　the　Ford　dealership　and　tell　them　you　want　a　tow。'
'But　…'
'No；　you　have　to。　If　you　try　to　drive　twenty…two　miles　over　to　South　Paris；　it'll　pack　up　on　you　for　sure。　And　if　you　explain　the　situation　in　advance；　they　might　be　able　to　get　you　a　loaner。　Barring　that；　they'll　lease　you　a　car。'
'Lease　。。。　Vic；　isn't　that　expensive？'
'Yeah；'　he　said。
She　thought　again　that　it　was　wrong　of　her　to　be　dumping　all　this　on　him。　He　was　probably　thinking　that　she　wasn't　capable　of　anything　。。。　except　maybe　screwing　the　local　furniture　refinisher。　She　was　fine　at　that。　Hot　salt　tears；　partly　anger；　partly　self…pity；　stung　her　eyes　again。　'I'll　take　care　of　it；'　she　said；　striving　desperately　to　keep　her　voice　normal；　light。　Her　elbow　was　propped　on　the　wall　and　one　hand　was　over　her　eyes。　'Not　to　worry。'
'Well；　I　…　oh；　shit；　there's　Roger。　He's　dust　up　to　his　neck；　but　they　got　the　kinescopes。　Put　Tad　on　for　a　second；　would　you。
Frantic　questions　backed　up　in　her　throat。　Was　it　all　right？　Did　he　think　it　could　be　all　right？　Could　they　get　back　to　go　and　start　again？　Too　late。　No　time。　She　had　spent　the　time　gabbing　about　the　car。　Dumb　broad；　stupid　quiff。
'Sure；'　she　said。　'He'll　say　good…bye　for　both　of　us。　And　。。。　Vic？'
'What？'　He　sounded　impatient　now；　pressed　for　time。
'I　love　you；'　she　said；　and　then　before　he　could　reply；　she　added：　'Here's　Tad。'　She　gave　the　phone　to　Tad　quickly；　almost　conking　him　on　the　head　with　it；　and　went　through　the　house　to　the　front　porch；　stumbling　over　a　hassock　and　sending　it　spinning；　seeing　everything　through　a　prism　of　tears。
She　stood　on　the　porch　looking　out　at　117；　clutching　her　elbows；　struggling　to　get　herself　under　control　…　control；　dammit；　control　…　and　it　was　amazing；　wasn't　it；　how　bad　you　could　hurt　when　there　was　nothing　physically　wrong。
Behind　her　she　could　hear　the　soft　murmur　of　Tad's　voice；　telling　Vic　they　had　eaten　at　Mario's；　that　Mommy　had　her　favorite　Fat　Pizza　and　the　Pinto　had　been　okay　until　they　were　almost　home。　Then　he　was　telling　Vic　that　he　loved　him。　Then　there　was　the　soft　sound　of　the　phone　being　hung　up。　Contact　broken。
Control。
At　last　she　felt　as　if　she　had　some。　She　went　back　into　the　kitchen　and　began　putting　away　the　groceries。
Charity　Camber　stepped　down　from　the　Greyhound　bus　at　quarter　past　three　that　afternoon。　Brett　was　right　at　her　heels。　She　was　clutching　the　strap　of　her　purse　spasmodically。　She　was　suddenly；　irrationally　afraid　that　she　would　not　recognize　Holly。　Her　sister's　face；　held　in　her　mind　like　a　photograph　all　these　years　（The　Younger　Sister　Who　Had　Married　Well）；　had　gone　suddenly　and　mysteriously　out　of　her　mind；　leaving　only　a　fogged　blank　where　the　picture　should　have　been。
'You　see　her？'　Brett　asked　as　they　alighted。　He　looked　around　at　the　Stratford　bus　depot　with　bright　interest　and　no　more。　There　was　certainly　no　fear　in　his　face。
'Give　me　a　chance　to　look　around！'　Charity　said　sharply。　'Probably　she's　in　the　coffee　shop　or
'Charity？'
She　turned　and　there　was　Holly。　The　picture　held　in　her　memory　came　flooding　back；　but　it　was　now　a　transparency　overlying　the　real　face　of　the　woman　standing　by　the　Space　Invaders　game。　Charity's　first　thought　was　that　Holly　was　wearing　glasses　…　how　funny！　Her　second；　shocked；　was　that　Holly　had　wrinkles　…　not　many；　but　there　could　be　no　question　about　what　they　were。　Her　third　thought　was　not　precisely　a　thought　at　all。　It　was　an　image；　as　dear；　true；　and　heartbreaking　as　a　sepia…toned　photograph：　Holly　leaping　into　old　man　Seltzer's　cowpond　in　her　underpants；　pigtails　standing　up　against　the　sky；　thumb　and　forefinger　of　left　hand　pinching　her　nostrils　closed　for　ic　effect。　No　glasses　then；　Charity　thought；　and　pain　came　to　her　then；　and　it　squeezed　her　heart。
Standing　at　Holly's　sides；　looking　shyly　at　her　and　Brett；　were　a　boy　of　about　five　and　a　girl　who　was　perhaps　two　and　a　half。　The　little　girl's　bulgy　pants　spoke　of　diapers　beneath。　Her　stroller　stood　off　to　one　side。
'Hi；　Holly；'　Charity　said；　and　her　voice　was　so　thin　she　could　hardly　hear　it。
The　wrinkles　were　small。　They　turned　upward；　the　way　their　mother　had　always　said　the　good　ones　did。　Her　dress　was　dark　blue；　moderately　expensive。　The　pendant　she　wore　was　either　a　very　good　piece　of　costume　jewelry　or　a　very　small　emerald。
There　was　a　moment　then。　Some　space　of　time。　In　it；　Charity　felt　her　heart　fill　with　a　joy　so　fierce　and　plete　that　she　knew　there　could　never　be　any　real　question　about　what　this　trip　had　or　had　not　cost　her。　For　now　she　was　free；　her　son　was　free。　Ibis　was　her　sister　and　those　children　were　her　kin；　not　pictures　but　real。
Laughing　and　crying　a　little；　the　two　women　stepped　toward　each　other；　hesitantly　at　first；　then　quickly。　They　embraced。　Brett　stood　where　he　was。　The　little　girl；　maybe　scared；　went　to　her　mother　and　wrapped　a　hand　firmly　around　the　hem　of　her　dress；　perhaps　to　keep　her　mother　and　this　strange　lady　from　flying　off　together。
The　little　boy　stared　at　Brett；　then　advanced。　He　was　wearing　Tuffskin　jeans　and　a　T…shirt　with　the　words　HERE　ES　TROUBLE　printed　on　it。
'You're　my　cousin　Brett；'　the　kid　said。
'Yeah。'
'My　name's　Jim。　just　like　my　dad。'
'Yeah。'
'You're　from　Maine；'　Jim　said。　Behind　him；　Charity　and　Holly　were　talking　rapidly；　interrupting　each　other　and　laughing　at　their　hurry　to　tell　everything　right　here　in　this　grimy　bus　station　south　of　Milford　and　north　of　Bridgeport。
'Yeah；　I'm　from　Maine；'　Brett　said。
'You're　ten。'
'Right。'
'I'm　five。'
'Oh　yeah？'
'Yeah。　But　I　can　beat　you　up；　Ka…whud！'　He　hit　Brett　in　the　belly；　doubling…him　up。
Brett　uttered　a　large　and　surprised　'Oof　P　Both　women　gasped。
'Jimmy！'　Holly　cried　in　a　kind　of　resigned　horror。
Brett　straightened　up　slowly　and　saw　his　mother　watching　him；　her　face　in　a　kind　of　suspension。
'Yeah；　you　can　beat　me　up　anytime；'　Brett　said；　and　smiled。
And　it　was　all　right。　He　saw　from　his　mother's　face　that　it　was　all　right；　and　he　was　glad。
By　three　thirty　Donna　had　decided　to　leave　Tad　with　a　baby…sitter　and　try　taking　the　Pinto　up　to　Camber's。　She　had　tried　the　number　again　and　there　had　still　been　no　response；　but　she　had　reasoned　that　even　if　Camber　wasn't　in　his　garage；　he　would　be　back　soon；　maybe　even　by　the　time　she　arrived　there　。。。　always　assuming　she　did　arrive　there。　Vic　told　her　last　week　that　Camber　would　probably　have　some　old　junker　to　loan　her　if　it　looked　like　her　Pinto　was　going　to　be　an　overnight　job。　That　had　really　been　the　deciding　factor。　But　she　thought　that　taking　Tad　would　he　wrong。　If　the　Pinto　seized　up　on　that　back　road　and　she　had　to　take　a　hike；　well；　okay。　But　Tad　shouldn't　have　to　do　it。
Tad；　however；　had　other　ideas。
Shortly　after　talking　to　his　dad；　he　had　gone　up　to　his　room　and　had　stretched　out　on　his　bed　with　a　stack　of　Little　Golden　Books。　Fifteen　minutes　later　he　had　dozed　off；　and　a　dream　had　e　to　him；　a　dream　which　seemed　utterly　ordinary　but　which　had　a　strange；　nearly　terrifying　power。　In　hi