Tale of the Taconic Mountains. Mike M.D. RomelingЧитать онлайн книгу.
there could be no thought of holding out false hope in a matter such as this. He studied the picture. Christy had the same finely sculpted face with high cheek bones that still kept her mother looking so fine in her middle age. Her hair was dark, framing the ivory skin of her face and falling to just below her neck. But her eyes had the wary look of someone whose picture is being taken by surprise or at a bad time.
“I’m afraid, Mrs. Kilgallen, this is not Tara Boudine or her sister Ariel. Those are the women living on the mountain that your caller must have been referring to.”
“Oh, then they are sisters, these women in the mountains? I did not realize that. Is that known for a fact?”
“They represent themselves as such. But of course they are very reclusive and secretive. Little is known about them really.”
“Is it known for certain that there are only two of them?”
“That I think we can be quite certain of, yes.”
“I see. It had crossed my mind that perhaps there was some sort of commune or something, and if there was, it might be a situation that would have attracted Christy.” Anna looked down, disappointment etched on her face.
“You must take into account also that the Boudines have lived on the mountain for many years, Mrs. Kilgallen. No one’s sure exactly how long, but very much longer than the three years your daughter has been gone.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Still, I feel I must grasp at every straw, Father. You’ve been most considerate to give me so much of your time.”
There was a long silence. The priest, searching for a way to leave some hope open for this sad woman, finally said, “You should really stop in at our bowling center and talk to Gil Brady. He sees more people coming and going through Cedar Falls than anyone and I’m sure he’d allow you to post Christy’s picture there. He’s a bit of a rough-hewn man perhaps, but with a good heart I’ve always believed...did I say something wrong, Mrs. Kilgallen?” The priest had noted Anna exhaling in a long almost audible sigh as he spoke.
“Oh no, nothing that you said, Father. I’m sorry; it’s just that as you can imagine, my inquiries take me into so many of those...those types of establishments and it just never gets any easier. I imagine sometimes that I can read their thoughts when they look at Christy’s picture; that they think Christy is dead or involved in something sordid, or they’re wondering what kind of a witchy mother I must have been to drive her away. And then there are those who act like I’m greatly inconveniencing them by taking up two minutes of their precious time...oh God, I’m sorry, Father.” Anna reached again for her kleenex and dabbed her eyes. “Well, no matter, it’s got to be done and no use getting all faint about it.”
Anna stood up and offered her hand to Father Mancuso. “You know, Father, it’s strange, but in some places I’ve searched I feel far away from my daughter and in others very close. Here I feel closer than I ever have before. But they’re unlikely aren’t they, those feelings? Just wishful thinking or desperation clawing at me I suppose.”
The priest opened the door for her and smiled warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I would counsel you never to disregard your feelings, Anna. The bond between a mother and child rises far above the ordinary; it is one of life’s mysteries I believe. I wish you all the best and all my prayers.”
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