Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

“I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you,” Dalia said. “Please, don’t stop. You have a pleasant reading voice, and Eminescu’s a favorite of mine.”

“Some company wouldn’t hurt, I suppose.”

“May I sit down?”

“Of course.” The woman pinned the book to her lap with one hand, reached out with the other. “My name’s Erota.”

“An intriguing name. I’m Dalia Amit.” She planted her backside on the bench beside Erota, ignoring the discomfort beneath her arm and smoothing her dress over stout legs. Was that Benyamin’s voice she heard in the distance?

She spoke in a conspiratorial hush. “If my husband wanders by, don’t pay him any mind. I’m rather upset with him. He loves his drink, that man does.”

“You poor thing. That must be rough on you.”

“It’s neither here nor there. Go on, please. I’d like to hear more.”

An emerald glint showed in Erota’s eyes. Probably a trick of the light, Dalia reasoned. The brunette returned her attention to the book of poetry and, over the approaching calls of a distraught spouse, read another stanza:

Would you have me come down to earth

and leave the eternal skies?

Remember that I am immortal

and you, condemned to die!

Benyamin stumbled along the walkway, warmed by the shots of palinka, and amused by his wife’s dash from the scene. What a spectacle she had made of herself, and now here he was chasing after her. He’d given Dov strict orders to remain at the table in the restaurant till he got back.

So, what was the harm in one little drink?

Okay, two or three.

Benyamin caught a whiff of his wife’s perfume and drew himself to a lock-kneed halt. She was nearby, hiding in the park.

“Dalia? Dear, let’s go back inside.”

When she failed to respond, he wobbled onward. His ankle pounded, his old wound burning with each step.

He heard a woman’s gasp, one short cry, and he hurried toward it. That was his wife. She had taken a tumble, most likely, out here in the woods along the river. She was a stout woman, lacking in athleticism. One dip in the pathway could send her reeling.

“Dalia?”

Ahead, lamplight glimmered between the branches. There she was on a bench, her head lolling and eyes closed. That was her, wasn’t it?

Who was the figure beside her, though?

And why did it look as though a thorny tangle bound them together?

As Benyamin stepped closer, the figure turned and gave him a languid smile. The other woman was young, beautiful, with a sensual mouth that glistened deep red. She ran her tongue along her lower lip and met his eye. In that moment, he felt the wound burst at his ankle and sensed something thick and crackly snaking forth.

Dalia appeared to be asleep, oblivious.

“Mr. Amit,” the woman said to him. “Come join us.”

“We can’t stay out here,” he said, thinking of Dov.

“You can share a little drink, can’t you?”

“A little drink?”

“Sit down here. We’ll all partake together.”

His queasiness gave way to desire. The very sound of this woman’s voice seemed to cool the heat at his ankle. He plopped down on the bench beside her, watched her run fingers down his leg, and then his thoughts were separating, spiraling away, carrying with them his worry and pain.

Chattanooga

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Jed called to Gina from the kitchen.

It was part of their agreement that he prepared the meals on Friday nights, since it was her longest shift down in the caverns of Ruby Falls.

Gina stood at the apartment window, staring over an array of city lights. She was still wearing her tour-guide uniform, and her name tag reflected her identity backward in the glass.

Her thoughts were on her mother. She loved Nikki. Always had. She’d learned from her a good work ethic and a sense of honor. She envied those high cheekbones, porcelain nose, and the shiny black hair—even if it was colored these days, to hide the wisps of gray.

The truth was, Gina was still a slave to Nikki’s approval. Her tattoo, the black boots, and orange-dyed hair were all attempts to break free. Didn’t take a shrink to figure that much out. Here she was, still worrying over Nikki’s reaction to the pregnancy. Nearing her fiftieth birthday, what would Nikki think of becoming a grandmother? Not that Jed even had a clue.

“Why should I care what she thinks?”

“Sorry?” Jed turned off the stove’s range fan, waved a dish towel through tendrils of smoke. “I couldn’t hear you with that thing running. Guess the garlic bread’s gonna be extra crispy tonight.”

“My mom,” Gina said. “Why do I care?”

“Uh, because she’s your mom?”

“She’s Nikki. I’m not sure that counts.”

“You gonna come eat or not?” he asked.

“Or not.”

He set down the towel and came up behind her. She caught a whiff of his CK One—it seemed so strong. Maybe it had something to do with her altered chemical balance. She felt his hands encircle her waist.

She pushed back against him. “I don’t want you touching my tummy, Jed.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like it. I feel fat.”

“You feel cuddly.” He tried to kiss her neck.

She turned and backhanded his chest. “I’m serious.”

He caught her wrist. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”

He released her, raised both arms in surrender. “If you wanna be miserable, don’t take it out on me. Since when do you let anything get you down?”

“I’m not down. I’m just . . . frustrated. Confused, I guess.”

“Is it something I did? Did I leave my socks in the bathroom again?”

She met his eyes for the first time since coming through the door. They floated large and blue behind his black-rimmed glasses. If Weezer ever needed a replacement lead vocalist, he would fit right in.

“What now, Gina? You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

She nodded and stifled a sudden bout of giggles. This whole hormone thing, it was quite a ride.

“What?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s something you did.”

“Figures.”

“I’m going to have a baby.”

“You? You’re . . . what?”

She looked up beneath her wave of hair. “Hey, you’re partly to