dk.coldfire-第48节
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Washing down blueberry muffins with black coffee； for which they had stopped at a convenience store； they traveled north on the San Diego Freeway。 The Tuesday…morning rush hour had passed； but at some places traffic still clogged all lanes and moved like a snail herd being driven '； toward a gourmet restaurant。
I fortably ensconced in the passenger seat； Holly told Jim about her four nightmares； as promised。 She started with the initial dream of blindness on Friday night； concluding with last night's spookshow； which had been the most bizarre and fearful of all。
He was clearly fascinated that she had dreamed about the mill without even knowing of its existence。 And on Sunday night； after surviving the crash of Flight 246； she had dreamed of him at the mill as a ten year…old boy； when she could not yet have known either that the mill was a familiar place to him or that he had spent a lot of time there when he was ten。
But the majority of his questions related to her most recent nightmare。
Keeping his eyes on the traffic ahead； he said； 〃Who was the woman in the dream if she wasn't you？〃 〃I don't know；〃 Holly said； finishing the final bite of the last muffin。
〃I had no sense of her identity。〃
〃Can you describe her？〃 〃I only saw her reflection in that window； so I can't tell you much； I'm afraid。〃 She drank the last of the coffee from her big Styrofoam cup； and thought a moment。 It was easier to visualize the scenes of that dream than it should have been； for dreams were usually quick to fade from memory。
Images from that one returned to her quite vividly； however； as if she had not dreamed them but experienced them in real life。 〃She had a broad clear face； more handsome in a womanly way than pretty。
Wide…set eyes； full mouth。 A beauty mark high on her right cheek； I don't think it could've been a spot on the glass； just a little round dot。 Curly hair。 Do you recognize her？〃 〃No；〃 he replied。 〃Can't say that I do。 Tell me what you saw at the bottom of the pond when the lightning flashed。〃
〃I'm not sure what it was。〃
〃Describe it as best you can。〃
She pondered for a moment； then shook her head。 〃I can't。 The woman's face was fairly easy to recall because when I saw it in the dream I knew what it was； a face； a human face。 But whatever was lying at the bottom of the pond。 。 。 that was strange； like nothing I'd ever seen beù fore。
I didn't know what I was looking at； and I had such a brief glimpse of it and。 。 。 well； now it's just gone。 Is there really something peculiar under that pond？〃 〃Not that I know of；〃 he said。 〃Could it've been a sunken boat； a rowboat； anything like that？〃 〃No；〃 she said。 〃Nothing at all like that。 Much bigger。 Did a boat sink in the pond once？〃 〃I never heard of it； if one did。 It's a deceptive…looking bit of water； though。 You expect a millpond to be shallow； but this one is deep； forty or fifty feet toward the center。 It never dries out； and it doesn't shrink during dry years； either； because it's formed over an artesian well； not just an aquifer。〃
〃What's the difference？〃 〃An aquifer is what you drill into when you're sinking a well； it's sort of a reservoir or stream of underground water。 Artesian wells are rarer。 You don't drill into one to find water； 'cause the water is already ing to the surface under pressure。 You'd have the devil's own time trying to stop the stuff from percolating up。〃
The snarl of traffic began to loosen； but Jim did not take full advantage of opportunities to change lanes and swing around slower…moving vehicles。
He was more interested in her answers than in making better time。
He said； 〃And in the dream； when you got to the top of the stairs…or when this woman got to the top of the stairs…you saw a ten…year…old boy standing there； and somehow you knew he was me。〃
〃Yes。〃
〃I don't look much like I looked when I was ten； so how'd you recognize me？〃 〃Mostly it was your eyes；〃 Holly said。 〃They haven't changed much in all these years。 They're unmistakable。〃
〃Lots of people have blue eyes。〃
〃Are you serious？ Honey； your blue eyes are to other blue eyes what Sinatra's voice is to Donald Duck's。〃
〃You're prejudiced。 What did you see in the wall？〃 She described it again。
〃Alive in the stone？ This just gets stranger and stranger。〃
〃I haven't been bored in days；〃 she agreed。
Beyond the junction with Interstate 10； traffic on the San Diego Freeway became even lighter； and finally Jim began to put some of his driving skills to use。 He handled the car the way a first…rate jockey handled a thoroughbred horse； finessing from it that extra degree of performance that won races。 The Ford was only a stock model with no modification； but it responded to him as if it wanted to be a Porsche。
After a while Holly began to ask questions of her own。 〃How e you're a millionaire but you live relatively cheap？〃 〃Bought a house； moved out of my apartment。 Quit my job。〃
〃Yeah； but a modest house。 And your furniture's falling apart。〃
〃I needed the privacy of my own house to meditate and rest between。 。 。
assignments。 But I didn't need fancy furniture。〃
Following a few minutes of mutual silence； she said； 〃Did I catch your eye the way you caught mine； right off the bat； up in Portland？〃 He smiled but didn't look away from the highway。〃 So are you； Miss Thorne。'〃 〃So you admit it！〃 Holly said； pleased。 〃It was a e…on line。〃
They made excellent time from the west side of Los Angeles all the way to Ventura； but then Jim began to slack off again。 Mile by mile； he drove with less aggression。
Initially Holly thought he was lulled by the view。 Past Ventura； Route 101 hugged beautiful stretches of coastline。 They passed Pitas Point； then Rincon Point； and the beaches of Carpinteria。 The blue sea rose； the blue sky fell； the golden land wedged itself between them； and the only visible turbulence in the serene summer day was the white…capped surf； which slipped to the shore in low bers and broke with a light； foamy spray。
But there was a turbulence in Jim Ironheart； too； and Holly only became aware of his new edginess when she realized that he was not paying any attention to the scenery。 He had slowed down not to enjoy the view but； she suspected； to delay their arrival at the farm By the time they left the superhighway； turned inland at Santa Barbara； crossed the city； and headed into the Santa Ynez Mountains； Jim's mood was undeniably darker。
His responses to her conversational sallies grew shorter； more distracted。
State Route 154 led out of the mountains into an appealing land of low hills and fields painted gold by dry summer grass； clusters of California live oaks； and horse ranches with neat white fencing。 This was not the farming…intense； agribusiness atmosphere of the San Joaquin and certain other valleys； there were serious vineyards here and there； but the occasional farms appeared to be； as often as not； gentlemen's operations maintained as getaways for rich men in Los Angeles； more concerned with cultivating a picturesque alternate lifestyle than with real crops。
〃We'll need to stop in New Svenborg to get a few things before we head out to the farm；〃 Jim said。
〃What things？〃 〃I don't know。 But when we stop。 。 。 I'll know what we need。〃
Lake Cachuma came and went to the east。 They passed the road to Solvang on the west； then skirted Santa Ynez itself Before Los Olivos； they headed east on another state route； and finally into New Svenborg； the closest town to Ironheart Farm。
； In the early nineteen hundreds； groups of Danish…Americans from the Midwest had settled in the Santa Ynez Valley； many of them with the intention of establishing munities that would preserve Danish folk arts and customs and； in general； the ways of Danish life。 The most successful of these settlements was Solvang； about which Holly had once written a story； it had bee a major tourist attraction because of its quaint Danish architecture； shops； and restaurants。
New Svenborg； with a population of fewer than two thousand； was not as elaborately； thoroughly； authentically； insistently Danish as Solvang。
Depressing desert…style stucco buildings with white…rock roofs； weathered clapboard buildings with unpainted front porches that reminded Holly of parts of rural Texas； Craftsman bungalows； and white Victorian houses with lots of gingerbread and wide front porches stood beside structures that were distinctly Danish with half timbered walls and thatched roofs and leaded…glass windows。 Half a dozen windmills dotted the town； their vanes silhouetted against the August sky。 All in all； it was one of those singular California mixes that sometimes resulted in delightful and unexpected harmonies； but in New Svenborg； the mix did not work； and the mood was discordancy。
〃I spent the end of my childhood and my entire adolescence here；〃 Jim said as he drove slowly down the quiet； shadowy main street。
She figured that his moodiness could be attributed as much to New Svenborg as to his tragic family history。
To an extent； that was unfair。 The streets were lined with big trees； the charming streetlamps appeared to have been imported from the Old Country； and most of the sidewalks were gracefu
