The Life Of Reilly. Sue Civil-BrownЧитать онлайн книгу.
it had cured. “But, um, I really should handle my own life on my own.”
Delphine smiled benevolently. “You only think it’s your own life.”
Lynn didn’t know how to react to that. She wanted to throw something, but that wasn’t her nature. She could have told her aunt to stop playing the sphinx, but she’d never told Delphine to do anything except butt out. Which she had just tried to do.
“Look, dear,” Delphine said kindly, “you know you’re part of the Unity. Nothing affects only you. Others are involved. But, I promise to stay in the background as long as my work here if unfinished.”
At that, she dissipated. Lynn felt anything but reassured. Delphine in the background could be as every bit as disastrous as Delphine front and center.
Groaning, she sat on the back porch, drank coffee and watched the remainder of the sunrise. Before long, despite everything, peace began to fill her again. That was why she had come to this island, and the sun’s early rays seemed to bathe her with it.
Forget Delphine, she told herself. The worst she could be was a nuisance. The best….
Well, the best that could be said was that Delphine had just confirmed a lot of current theories in physics. She smiled at that and raised her coffee in a toast to the sun. The world was an amazing place.
It even included an alligator staring at her from beneath a shrub.
She blinked and peered more intently. God, it was an alligator. It must be Buster, she realized. He was the only crocodilian on the island and more a celebrity than any of the human inhabitants, even World Series of Poker champion Bill Anstin. Buster was not quite wild, not quite a pet, not dangerous but neither to be trifled with when he set his mind to something.
Rather like Aunt Delphine.
“Tell me you’re not in league with her,” Lynn said.
Alligator physiology made it impossible to shrug, but somehow Buster conveyed a shrug regardless.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Hannah?” Lynn asked. Buster was smitten with Hannah Lamont, a pilot who lived with Buck Shanahan up at the airport. Island legend said that Buster had played a prominent role in getting Hannah and Buck together and thus ensuring that Hannah stayed on Treasure Island.
“Mmmhhhhmmm.” It was a wordless groan and yet Lynn had no doubt what Buster meant.
“She’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”
“So you’re lonely and hanging around with me?”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”
“Delphine’s going to make trouble for me, isn’t she?”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”
Lynn sighed. “You have to understand, Buster. She was the stereotypical spinster schoolmarm. When she was a girl, guys didn’t like girls who were too smart. And she was way, way too smart. She never found anyone who could put up with that, and for as long as I can remember, she’s been bound and determined that I should not end up alone.”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”
“What she can’t understand,” Lynn said, “is that I would rather be alone for the right reasons than be with someone for the wrong reasons.”
“Mmmmmm?”
“I don’t want to be with someone just for the sake of being with someone. I’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person again.”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”
“You think I’m crazy, right?”
“Uhmmmuhmmmm.”
“No?”
“Uhmmmuhmmmm.”
“Will you do me a favor, Buster?” Lynn asked, looking into his saurian eyes.
“Mmmmmm?”
“When Delphine makes things nuts—and we both know she will—will you remind me I’m not crazy?”
Buster blinked and seemed to be assembling the parts of the thought before he replied.
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.”
So okay, Lynn thought. At least she had an ally. An ally-gator. She laughed at the thought as she rose to get ready to leave for school. Maybe Buster was wrong. Maybe she was crazy.
But she could still laugh at herself. She laughed even harder when she realized her aunt had done it again: she had her niece talking to alligators.
Delphine tended to have that effect.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, just as he was about to set out for his daily jog on the beach, Jack stepped out of his house to find Buster waiting in the now-dry wallow they’d made together yesterday.
Jack stared at the gator, wondering why he was hanging around here when lately he’d preferred to be up at the airport. But the obvious plea was just too much to ignore, especially since he couldn’t see even the smallest puff of cloud in the sky.
“Okay, Buster,” he said. “I’ll get the hose.”
“Mmmmmmmhhhhhh.”
This gator talked. Of that Jack had not the least doubt. Admittedly the beast was limited by lack of lips and proper vocal chords, but somewhere during his long gator-solitary life on this island, he seemed to have learned English.
Jack turned the hose on Buster, and a stream of water ran over the rough hide, causing the gator to groan ecstatically.
“It might,” Jack said to Buster, “be ecologically more sound to put you in my bathtub.”
Umum, Buster answered, shaking his head.
“No, I guess not. I’d have to change the water anyway to keep it clean.”
Buster groaned happily, wiggling in the dirt until it mixed with the water and became mud.
An amused voice came from next door. “Does watering him make him grow?”
Jack looked up to see Lynn standing in front of her house, backpack slung over one shoulder, a stack of file folders in her arms.
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “But since the drought it sure makes him happy.”
She laughed. “I agree. A happy gator is desirable. Do you feed him, too?”
“That’s one thing we avoid. We don’t want him too comfortable around us.”
“So what does he eat?”
“Well, he was eating fish and birds at the pool but now…” Jack shrugged. “I suspect it may be time to dump a few dead chickens and fish waste somewhere near the pool. He can’t be catching a whole lot right now.”
“I was thinking that, too.” She walked to her porch and set down her folders and backpack before coming toward them. She remained a respectful distance from Buster, though. “He and I had a visit this morning. A very nice conversation.”
“You didn’t run shrieking? Most newcomers do the first time they meet him.”
“I’d heard about him from my students. No point in becoming terrified, from what I heard.”
“None really. If he ever attacked a human, it was One-Hand Hank Hanratty, the guy who brought him here. The local myth is that Hank lost his hand to Buster, who wasn’t real happy about being the only gator here. Or maybe he wasn’t happy about being brought here. Whatever, he’s certainly adapted.”
“Quite well it seems. He’s even gotten you to do his bidding.”
Jack laughed and looked at the gator, who was happily rolling in the mud.