11/22/63 полностью

“I don’t know. I only know I don’t want to be alone. I’ll even make love with you if that will get you to stay, but I don’t think it would be much good for either of us. My head aches so badly.”

“You don’t have to make love to me, hon. It’s not a business deal.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Hush. I’ll get the aspirin.”

“And look on top of the medicine cabinet, would you? Sometimes I leave a pack of cigarettes there.”

She had, but by the time she’d taken three puffs of the one I lit for her, she was wall-eyed and dozing. I took it from between her fingers and mashed it out on the lower slope of Mount Cancer. Then I took her in my arms and laid back on the pillows. We fell asleep that way.

When I woke to the first long light of dawn, the fly of my slacks was unzipped and a skillful hand was exploring inside my underwear. I turned to her. She was looking at me calmly. “The world is still here, George. And so are we. Come on. But be gentle. My head still aches.”

I was gentle, and I made it last. We made it last. At the end, she lifted her hips and dug into my shoulder blades. It was her oh dear, oh my God, oh sugar grip.

“Anything.” She was whispering, her breath in my ear making me shiver as I came. “You can be anything, do anything, just say you’ll stay. And that you still love me.”

“Sadie… I never stopped.”

We had breakfast in her kitchen before I went back to Dallas. I told her it really was Dallas now, and although I didn’t have a phone yet, I would give her the number as soon as I had one.

She nodded and picked at her eggs. “I meant what I said. I won’t ask any more questions about your business.”

“That’s best. Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“Just tell me again that you’re up to good rather than no good.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m one of the good guys.”

“Will you be able to tell me someday?”

“I hope so,” I said. “Sadie, those pictures he sent—”

“I tore them up this morning. I don’t want to talk about them.”

“We don’t have to. But I need you to tell me that’s all the contact you’ve had with him. That he hasn’t been around.”

“He hasn’t been. And the postmark on the envelope was Savannah.”

I’d noticed that. But I’d also noticed the postmark was almost two months old.

“He’s not big on personal confrontation. He’s brave enough in his mind, but I think he’s a physical coward.”

That struck me as a good assessment; sending the pictures was textbook passive-aggressive behavior. Still, she had been sure Clayton wouldn’t find out where she was now living and teaching, and she’d been wrong about that. “The behavior of mentally unstable people is hard to predict, honey. If you saw him, you’d call the police, right?”

“Yes, George.” With a touch of her old impatience. “I need to ask you one question, then we won’t talk about this anymore until you’re ready. If you ever are.”

“Okay.” I tried to prepare an answer to the question I was sure would be coming: Are you from the future, George?

“It’s going to sound crazy.”

“It’s been a crazy night. Go ahead.”

“Are you…” She laughed, then started to gather the plates. She went to the sink with them, and with her back turned, she asked: “Are you human? Like, from planet Earth?”

I went to her, reached around to cup her breasts, and kissed the back of her neck. “Totally human.”

She turned. Her eyes were grave. “Can I ask another?”

I sighed. “Shoot.”

“I’ve got at least forty minutes before I have to dress for school. Do you happen to have another condom? I think I’ve discovered the cure for headaches.”

So in the end it only took the threat of nuclear war to bring us back together — how romantic is that?

Okay, maybe not.

Deke Simmons, the sort of man who took an extra hankie to sad movies, approved heartily. Ellie Dockerty did not. Here is a strange thing I’ve noticed: women are better at keeping secrets, but men are more comfortable with them. A week or so after the Cuban Missile Crisis ended, Ellie called Sadie into her office and shut the door — not a good sign. She was typically blunt, asking Sadie if she knew any more about me than she had before.

“No,” Sadie said.

“But you’ve begun again.”

“Yes.”

“Do you even know where he lives?”

“No, but I have a telephone number.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, and who could blame her. “Has he told you anything at all about his past? Whether he’s been married before? Because I believe that he has been.”

Sadie stayed silent.

“Has he happened to mention if he’s left a dropped calf or two behind somewhere? Because sometimes men do that, and a man who’s done it once will not hesitate to—”

“Miz Ellie, may I go back to the library now? I’ve left a student in charge, and while Helen’s very responsible, I don’t like to leave them too—”

“Go, go.” Ellie flapped a hand at the door.

“I thought you liked George,” Sadie said as she got up.