Читать книгу Heathcliff Redux - Lily Tuck - Страница 29

Meryl and Frank’s oldest daughter, Carol, came over and babysat from time to time. She was fourteen, wore glasses, and always brought a book along with her—last time she came over she was reading A Tale of Two Cities. Not only did I approve, I thought she seemed reliable.

But she was shy and hard to talk to.

“Do you kids ride over at your place?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

“No? Why not? Your dad has a bunch of nice horses there.”

Shrugging, she held her book up to her chest as if in defense. “I’m afraid of horses,” she said.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said.

“The last time I rode, I fell off and broke my arm,” Carol said.

“Did you get back on again?”

Carol shook her head. She looked as if she was about to cry.

“I fell off once and broke my collarbone—I was about your age, maybe a little older—and my dad made me get right back on the horse, although it hurt like crazy. I thought I was going to pass out,” I told her.

Carol said nothing.

“How do you like A Tale of Two Cities?” I asked, to change the subject.