dk.intensity-第83部分

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t　feel　like　to　be　such　a　famous　hero？〃
　She　stopped　then　and　turned　and　said；　〃I'm　no　hero。　I'm　just　passing　through　like　all　of　you；　wondering　why　it　has　to　be　so　hard；　hoping　I　never　have　to　hurt　anyone　again。〃
　Those　close　enough　to　hear　what　she　said　fell　silent；　but　the　others　shrieked　at　her　again。　She　got　into　the　taxi　and　rode　away。
　The　Delane　family　had　been　heavily　mortgaged　and　addicted　to　easy　credit　from　Visa　and　MasterCard　before　Edgler　Vess　had　freed　them　from　their　debts；　so　there　was　no　estate　to　which　Ariel　was　heir。　Her　paternal　grandparents　were　alive　but　in　poor　health　and　with　only　limited　financial　resources。
　Even　if　there　had　been　any　relatives　financially　fortable　enough　to　assume　the　burden　of　raising　a　teenage　girl　with　Ariel's　singular　problems；　they　would　not　have　felt　adequate　to　the　task。　The　girl　was　made　a　ward　of　the　court；　remanded　to　the　care　of　a　psychiatric　hospital　operated　by　the　State　of　California。
　No　family　member　objected。　Through　that　summer　and　autumn；　Chyna　traveled　weekly　from　San　Francisco　to　Sacramento；　petitioning　the　court　to　be　declared　Ariel　Beth　Delane's　sole　legal　guardian；　visiting　the　girl；　and　working　patiently…some　claimed　stubbornly…through　the　byzantine　legal　and　social…services　systems。　Otherwise；　they　would　have　condemned　the　girl　to　a　life　in　asylums　that　were　called　〃care　facilities。〃
　Although　Chyna　truly　didn't　see　herself　as　a　hero；　many　others　did。　The　admiration　with　which　certain　influential　people　regarded　her　was　at　last　the　key　that　unlocked　the　bureaucratic　heart　and　got　her　the　permanent　custody　that　she　wanted。　On　a　morning　late　in　January；　ten　months　after　she　had　freed　the　girl　from　the　doll…guarded　cellar；　she　drove　out　of　Sacramento　with　Ariel　beside　her。
　They　went　home　to　the　apartment　in　San　Francisco。
　Chyna　never　finished　her　master's　degree　in　psychology；　which　she　had　been　so　close　to　earning。　She　continued　her　studies　at　the　University　of　California　at　San　Francisco；　but　she　changed　her　major　to　literature。　She　had　always　liked　to　read；　and　though　she　didn't　believe　she　possessed　any　writing　talent；　she　thought　she　might　enjoy　being　a　book　editor　one　day；　working　with　writers。　There　was　more　truth　in　fiction　than　in　science。　She　could　also　see　herself　as　a　teacher。　If　she　spent　the　rest　of　her　life　waiting　tables；　that　was　all　right　as　well；　because　she　was　good　at　it　and　found　dignity　in　the　labor。
　The　following　summer；　while　Chyna　was　working　the　dinner　shift；　she　and　Ariel　began　spending　many　mornings　and　early　afternoons　at　the　beach。　The　girl　liked　to　stare　out　at　the　bay　from　behind　dark　sunglasses；　and　sometimes　she　could　be　induced　to　stand　at　water's　edge　with　the　surf　breaking　around　her　ankles。
　One　day　in　June；　not　realizing　quite　what　she　was　doing；　Chyna　used　her　index　finger　to　write　a　word　in　the　sand：　PEACE。　She　stared　at　it　for　a　minute；　and　to　her　surprise；　she　said　to　Ariel；　〃That's　a　word　that　can　be　made　from　the　letters　of　my　name。〃
　On　the　first　of　July；　while　Ariel　sat　on　their　blanket；　gazing　out　at　the　sun…spangled　water；　Chyna　tried　to　read　a　newspaper；　but　every　story　distressed　her。　War；　rape；　murder；　robbery；　politicians　spewing　hatred　from　all　ends　of　the　political　spectrum。　She　read　a　movie　review　full　of　vicious　ipse　dixit　criticism　of　the　director　and　screenwriter；　questioning　their　very　right　to　create；　and　then　turned　to　a　woman　columnist's　equally　vitriolic　attack　on　a　novelist；　none　of　it　genuine　criticism；　merely　venom；　and　she　threw　the　paper　in　a　trash　can。　Any　more；　such　little　hatreds　and　indirect　assaults　seemed　to　her　unfortably　clear　reflections　of　stronger　homicidal　impulses　that　infected　the　human　spirit；　symbolic　killings　were　different　only　in　degree；　not　in　kind；　from　genuine　murder；　and　the　sickness　in　the　assailants'　hearts　was　the　same。
　There　are　no　explanations　for　human　evil。　Only　excuses。
　Also　in　early　July；　she　noticed　a　man　of　about　thirty　who　came　to　the　beach　a　few　mornings　a　week　with　his　eight…year…old　son　and　a　laptop　puter　on　which　he　worked　in　the　deep　shade　of　an　umbrella。　Eventually；　they　struck　up　a　conversation。　The　father's　name　was　Ned　Barnes；　and　his　boy　was　Jamie。　Ned　was　a　widower　and；　of　all　things；　a　freelance　writer　with　several　modestly　successful　novels　to　his　credit。　Jamie　developed　a　crush　on　Ariel　and　brought　her　things　that　he　found　special…a　handful　of　wildflowers；　an　interesting　seashell；　a　picture　of　a　ical…looking　dog　torn　from　a　magazine…and　put　them　beside　her　on　the　blanket　without　asking　that　she　be　mindful　of　them。
　On　August　twelfth；　Chyna　cooked　a　spaghetti…and…meatball　dinner　for　the　four　of　them；　at　the　apartment。　Later　she　and　Ned　played　Go　Fish　and　other　games　with　Jamie　while　Ariel　sat　staring　placidly　at　her　hands。　Since　the　night　in　the　motor　home；　that　terrible　anguished　expression　and　silent　scream　had　not　crossed　the　girl's　face。　She　had　also　stopped　hugging　herself　and　rocking　anxiously。
　Later　in　August；　the　four　of　them　went　to　a　movie　together；　and　they　continued　to　see　one　another　at　the　beach；　where　they　took　up　tenancy　side　by　side。　Their　relationship　was　very　relaxed；　with　no　pressure　or　expectations。　None　of　them　wanted　anything　more　than　to　be　less　alone。
　In　September；　just　after　Labor　Day；　when　there　would　not　be　many　more　days　warm　enough　to　remend　the　beach；　Ned　looked　up　from　his　laptop　next　door　and　said；　〃Chyna。〃
　She　was　reading　a　novel　and　only　replied；　〃Hmmm；〃　without　taking　her　eyes　off　the　page。
　He　insisted；　〃Look。　Look　at　Ariel。〃
　The　girl　wore　cut…off　blue　jeans　and　a　long…sleeve　blouse；　because　the　day　was　already　a　touch　cool　for　sunbathing。　She　was　barefoot　at　the　edge　of　the　water；　surf　breaking　around　her　ankles；　but　she　was　not　standing　zombie…like　and　staring　bayward；　as　usual。　Instead；　her　arms　were　stretched　over　her　head；　and　she　was　waving　her　hands　in　the　air　while　quietly　dancing　in　place。
　〃She　loves　the　bay　so；〃　Ned　said。
　Chyna　was　unable　to　speak。
　〃She　loves　life；〃　he　said。
　Choking　on　emotion；　Chyna　prayed　that　it　was　true。　The　girl　didn't　dance　long；　and　when　later　she　returned　to　the　blanket；　her　gaze　was　as　faraway　as　ever。
　By　December　of　that　year；　more　than　twenty　months　after　fleeing　the　house　of　Edgler　Vess；　Ariel　was　eighteen　years　old；　no　longer　a　girl　but　a　lovely　young　woman。　Frequently；　however；　she　called　for　her　mother　and　father　in　her　sleep；　for　her　brother；　and　her　voice…the　only　time　it　was　heard…was　young；　frail；　and　lost。
　Then；　on　Christmas　morning；　among　the　gifts　for　Ariel；　Ned；　and　Jamie　that　were　stacked　under　the　tree　in　the　apartment　living　room；　Chyna　was　surprised　to　find　a　small　package　for　herself。　It　had　been　wrapped　with　great　care；　though　as　if　by　a　child　with　more　enthusiasm　than　skill。　Her　name　was　printed　in　uneven　block　letters　on　a　snowman　gift　tag。　When　she　opened　the　box；　a　slip　of　blue　paper　lay　within。　On　the　paper　were　four　words　that　appeared　to　have　been　set　down　with　considerable　effort；　much　hesitation；　and　lots　of　stops　and　starts：　I　want　to　live。
　Heart　pounding；　tongue　thick；　she　took　both　of　the　girl's　hands。　For　a　while　she　didn't　know　what　to　say；　and　she　couldn't　have　said　it　if　she　had　known。
　Finally　words　came　haltingly：　〃This　。。。　this　is　the　best　。。。　the　best　gift　I've　ever　had；　honey。　This　is　the　best　there　could　ever　be。　This　is　all　I　want　。。。　for　you　to　try。〃
　She　read　the　four　words　again；　through　tears。
　I　WANT　TO　LIVE。
　Chyna　said；　〃But　you　don't　know　how　to　get　back；　do　you？〃
　The　girl　was　very　still。　Then　she　blinked。　Both　of　her　hands　tightened　on　Chyna's　hands。
　〃There's　a　way；〃　Chyna　assured　her。
　The　girl's　hands　gripped　Chyna's　even　tighter。
　〃There's　hope；　baby。　There's　always　hope。　There's　a　way；　and　no　one　can　ever　find　it　alone；　but　we　can　find　it　together。　We　can　find　it　together。　You　just　have　to　believe。〃
　The　girl　could　not　make　eye　contact；　but　her　hands　continued　to　grip　Chyna's。
　〃I　want　to　tell　you　a　story　about　a　redwood　forest　and　something　I　saw　there　one　night；　and　something　I　saw　later；　too；　when　I　needed　to　see　it。　Maybe　it　won't　mean　as　much　to　you；　and　maybe　it　wouldn't　mean　anything　at　all　to　other　people；　but　it　means　the　world　t