sk.cujo-第55部分

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peered　with　stupid　fury。
She　looked　at　Tad　and　saw　that　he　had　gone　into　a　shock　reaction；　curling　himself　up　into　a　tight；　fetal　ball　in　his　bucket　seat；　his　hands　laced　together　at　the　nape　of　his　neck；　his　chest　hitching。
Maybe　that's　best。　Maybe　
Inside　the　house　the　phone　stopped　ringing。　Cujo；　in　the　act　of　whirling　around　for　another　charge；　paused。　He　cocked　his　head　again　in　that　curious；　evocative　gesture。　Donna　held　her　breath。　The　silence　seemed　very　big。　Cujo　sat　down；　raised　his　horribly　mangled　nose　toward　the　sky；　and　howled　once　such　a　dark　and　lonesome　sound　and　she　shivered；　no　longer　hot　but　as　cold　as　a　crypt。　In　that　instant　she　knew　…　she　did　not　feel　or　just　think　…　she　knew　that　the　dog　was　something　more　than　just　a　dog。
The　moment　passed。　Cujo　got　to　his　feet；　very　slowly　and　wearily；　and　walked　around　to　the　front　of　the　Pinto。　She　supposed　he　had　lain　down　there　…　she　could　no　longer　see　his　tail。　Nevertheless　she　held　herself　tensed　for　a　few　moments　longer；　mentally　ready　in　case　the　dog　should　spring　up　onto　the　hood　as　it　had　done　before。　It　hadn't。　There　was　nothing　but　silence。
She　gathered　Tad　into　her　arms　and　began　to　croon　to　him。
When　Brett　had　at　last　given　up　and　e　out　of　the　telephone　booth；　Charity　took　his　hand　and　led　him　into　Caldor's　coffee　shop。　They　had　e　to　Caldor's　to　look　at　matching　tablecloths　and　curtains。
Holly　was　waiting　for　them；　sipping　the　last　of　an　ice…cream　soda。　'Nothing　wrong；　is　there？'　she　asked。
'Nothing　too　serious；'　Charity　said；　and　ruffled　his　hair。　'He's　worried　about　his　dog。　Aren't　you；　Brett？'
Brett　shrugged　…　nodded　miserably。
'You　go　on　ahead；　if　you　want；'　Charity　said　to　her。　'We'll　catch　up。'
'All　right。　I'll　be　downstairs。'
Holly　finished　her　soda　and　said；　'I　bet　your　pooch　is　just　fine；　Brett。'
Brett　smiled　at　her　as　best　he　could　but　didn't　reply。　They　watched　Holly　walk　away；　smart　in　her　dark　burgundy　dress　and　cork…soled　sandals；　smart　in　a　way　Charity　knew　she　would　never　be　able　to　duplicate。　Maybe　once；　but　not　now。　Holly　had　left　her　two　with　a　sitter；　and　they　had　e　into　Bridgeport　around　noon。　Holly　had　bought　them　a　nice　lunch　paying　with　a　Diners　Club　card　…　and　since　then　they　had　been　shopping。　But　Brett　had　been　quiet　and　withdrawn；　worrying　about　Cujo。　Charity　didn't　feel　much　like　shopping　herself；　it　was　hot；　and　she　was　still　a　little　unnerved　by　Brett's　sleepwalking　that　morning。　Finally　she　had　suggested　that　he　try　calling　home　from　one　of　the　booths　around　the　corner　from　the　snack　bar　。。。　but　the　results　had　been　precisely　those　of　which　she　had　been　afraid。
The　waitress　came。　Charity　ordered　coffee；　milk；　and　two　Danish　pastries。
'Brett；'　she　said　'when　I　told　your　father　I　wanted　us　to　go　on　this　trip；　he　was　against　it'
'Yeah；　I　figured　that。'
'…　and　then　he　changed　his　mind。　He　changed　it　all　at　once。　I　think　that　maybe　。。。　maybe　he　saw　it　as　a　chance　for　a　little　vacation　of　his　own。　Sometimes　men　like；　to　go　off　by　themselves；　you　know；　and　do　things
'Like　hunting？'
（and　whoring　and　drinking　and　God　alone　knows　what　else　or　why）
'Yes；　like　that。'
'And　movies；'　Brett　said。　Their　snacks　came；　and　he　began　munching　his　Danish。
（yes　the　X…rated　kind　on　Washington　Street　they　call　it　the　bat　Zone）
'Could　be。　Anyway；　your　father　might　have　taken　a　couple　of　days　to　go　to　Boston　~~
'Oh；　I　don't　think　so；'　Brett　said　earnestly。　'He　had　a　lot　of　work。　A　lot　of　work。　He　told　me　so。'
'There　might　not　have　been　as　much　as　he　thought；'　she　said；　hoping　that　the　cynicism　she　felt　hadn't　rubbed　through　into　her　voice。　'Anyway；　that's　what　I　think　he　did；　and　that's　why　he　didn't　answer　the　phone　yesterday　or　today。　Drink　your　milk；　Brett。　It　builds　up　your　bones。'
He　drank　half　his　milk　and　grew　an　old　man's　mustache。　He　set　the　glass　down。　'Maybe　he　did。　He　could　have　got　Gary　to　go　with　him；　maybe。　He　likes　Gary　a　lot。'
'Yes；　maybe　he　did　get　Gary　to　go　with　him；'　Charity　said。　She　spoke　as　if　this　idea　had　never　occurred　to　her；　but　in　fact　she　had　called　Gary's　house　this　morning　while　Brett　had　been　out　in　the　back　yard；　playing　with　Jim　Junior。　There　had　been　no　answer。　She　hadn't　a　doubt　in　the　world　that　they　were　together；　wherever　they　were。　'You　haven't　eaten　much　of　that　Danish。'
He　picked　it　up；　took　a　token　bite；　and　put　it　down　'　again。　'Mom；　I　think　Cujo　was　sick。　He　looked　sick　when　I　saw　him　yesterday　morning。　Honest　to　God。'
'Brett　…'
'He　did；　Mom。　You　didn't　see　him。　He　looked　。。。　well；　gross。'
'If　you　knew　Cujo　was　all　right；　would　it　set　your　mind　at　rest？'
Brett　nodded。
'Then　we'll　call　Alva　Thornton　down　on　the　Maple　Sugar　tonight；'　she　said。　'Have　him　go　up　and　check；　okay？　My　guess　is　your　father　already　called　him　and　asked　him　to　feed　Cujo　while　he's　gone。'
'Do　you　really　think　so？'
'Yes；　I　do。'　Alva　or　someone　like　Alva；　not　really　Joe's　friends；　because　to　the　best　of　her　knowledge　Gary　was　the　only　real　friend　Joe　had；　but　men　who　would　do　a　favor　for　a　favor　in　return　at　some　future　time。
Brett's　expression　cleared　magically。　Once　again　the　grownup　had　produced　the　right　answer；　like　a　rabbit　from　a　hat。　Instead　of　cheering　her；　it　turned　her　momentarily　glum。　What　was　she　going　to　tell　him　if　she　called　Alva　and　he　said　he　hadn't　seen　Joe　since　mud　season？　Well；　she　would　cross　that　bridge　if　she　came　to　it；　but　she　continued　to　believe　that　Joe　wouldn't　have　just　left　Cujo　to　shift　for　himself。　It　wasn't　like　him。
'Want　to　go　and　find　your　aunt　now？'
'Sure。　just　lemme　finish　this。'
She　watched；　half　amused　and　half　appalled；　as　he　gobbled　the　rest　of　the　Danish　in　three　great　bites　and　chased　it　with　the　rest　of　the　milk。　Then　he　pushed　his　chair　back。
Charity　paid　the　check　and　they　went　out　to　the　down　escalator。
'Jeez；　this　sure　is　a　big　store；'　Brett　said　wonderingly。　'It's　a　big　city；　isn't　it；　Mom？'
'New　York　makes　this　look　like　Castle　Rock；'　she　said。　'And　don't　say　jeez；　Brett；　it's　the　same　as　swearing。'
'Okay。'　He　held　the　moving　railing；　looking　around。　To　the　right　of　them　was　a　maze　of　twittering　chirruping　parakeets。　To　the　left　was　the　housewares　department；　with　chrome　glittering　everywhere　and　a　dishwasher　that　had　a　front　made　entirely　of　glass　so　you　could　check　out　its　sudsing　action。　He　looked　up　at　his　mother　as　they　got　off　the　escalator。　'You　two　grew　up　together；　huh？'
'Hope　to　tell　you；'　Charity　said；　smiling。
'She's　real　nice；'　Brett　said。
'Well；　I'm　glad　you　think　so。　I　was　always　partial　to　her　myself。'
'How　did　she　get　so　rich？'
Charity　stopped。　'Is　that　what　you　think　Holly　and　jim　are？　Rich？'
'That　house　they　live　in　didn't　e　cheap；'　he　said；　and　again　she　could　see　his　father　peeking　around　the　corners　of　his　unformed　face；　Joe　Camber　with　his　shapeless　green　hat　tipped　far　back　on　his　head；　his　eyes；　too　wise；　shifted　off　to　one　side。　'And　that　jukebox。　That　was　dear；　too。　She's　got　a　whole　wallet　of　those　credit　cards　and　all　we've　got　is　the　Texaco　…'
She　rounded　on　him。　'You　think　it's　smart　to　go　peeking　into　people's　wallets　when　they've　just　bought　you　a　nice　lunch？'
His　face　looked　hurt　and　surprised；　then　it　closed　up　and　became　smooth。　That　was　a　Joe　Camber　trick　too。　'I　just　noticed。　Would　have　been　hard　not　to；　the　way　she　was　showing　them　off　…'
'She　was　not　showing　them　off！'　Charity　said；　shocked。　She　stopped　again。　They　had　reached　the　edge　of　the　drapery　department。
'Yeah；　she　was；'　Brett　said。　'lf　they'd　been　an　accordion；　she　would　have　been　playing　〃Lady　of　Spain。…
She　was　suddenly　furious　with　him　~　partly　because　she　suspected　he　might　be　right。
'She　wanted　you　to　see　all　of　them；'　Brett　said。　'That's　what　I　think。'
'I'm　not　particularly　interested　in　what　you　think　on　the　subject；　Brett　Camber。'　Her　face　felt　hot。　Her　hands　itched　to　strike　him。　A　few　moments　ago；　in　the　cafeteria；　she　had　been　loving　him　。。。　just　as　important；　she　had　felt　Iike　his　friend。　Where　had　those　good　feelings　gone？
'I　just　wondered　how　she　got　so　much　dough。'
'That's　sort　of　a　crude　word　to　use　for　it；　don't　you　think？'
He　shrugged；　openly　antagonistic　now；　provoking　her　purposely；　she　suspected。　It　went　back　to　his　perception　of　what　had　happened　at　lunch；　but　it　went　further　back　than　that。　He　was　contrasting