第34部分(第6/7 頁)

ar　private　road。　Twice　her　tires　began　to

spin　in　the　muck；　twice　she　was　able　to　back　down　and　charge　forward

around　the　offending　mud　hole。

It　was　early　Wednesday　afternoon。　Mitch　wasn't　due　up　until　late　Friday。

Everything　seemed　larger；　emptier；　and　more　silent　without　him；　but　she

wasn't　lonely。　His　mark　was　in　every　room　of　the　house；　surrounding　her

in　a　promising　cloak。

In　his　absence；　she　applied　herself　to　menial　tasks　like　dusting；

mopping；　scrubbing　sinks　and　the　top　of　the　stove。　Oh；　she　had　brought

several　translations　to　do；　but　she　didn't　touch　either。　She　wasn't　in

the　mood　to　concentrate。

During　those　two　days；　she　did　more　baking　than　she　had　in　the　past　two

years。　She　baked　bread。　She　baked　muffins。　She　baked　cookies。　Something

about　the　rural　life　was　conducive　to　it。

Same　with　hiking。　Despite　the　mud；　she　did　it　daily。　Without　a　motor

humming；　she　could　better　hear　sounds　of　the　world　emerging　from　winter。

The　first　of　the　geese　honked　as　they　flew　in　formation　through　a　pale

blue　sky。　The　tallest　of　the　tree　branches　stretched　and　flexed　in　the

gusting　wind。　Squirrels　scurried。　Woodpeckers　pecked。　The　ground

squished。

The　snow　was　gone；　and　the　woodland　hadn't　leafed　out。　But　naked　boughs

stood　straighter；　heraking　their　resurgence。　Even　the　leggy　lilacs　by

the　cabin's　front　door　stood　proudly　in　promise　of　fragrant　blossoms。

Friday　night　came　and　went　with　no　sign　of　Mitch。

Anne　was　devastated。　She　had　cooked　a　chicken　dinner　and　opened　a　bottle

of　wine。　The　house　was　spotless　and　polished。　She　had　showered　and

dressed　in　a　pair　of　soft　wool　slacks　and　a　paisley　print