Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cEggj-0006Va-Ak for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Wed, 07 Dec 2016 10:11:29 -0800 Received: from [204.15.132.190] (port=54972 helo=enjoybetterwines.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cEggf-0006Tz-2H for lojban@lojban.org; Wed, 07 Dec 2016 10:11:28 -0800 Date: Wed, 07 Dec 2016 11:34:55 -0700 From: "Harriet Newton" Mime-Version: 1 Subject: This years hottest Christmas-Gift for anyone that enjoys-wine, 1530012 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii To: Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Message-ID: <9811530012-15787734_c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed3lojban@lojban.org1396> X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / shop this gadget

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They had frogmen searching the pools and the lakes, Tara. It went on for days. Weeks. Yes, even after all this time I think we have to inform the police, dont you Tara looked ashen at these reports. Suddenly Mary was on her feet, the ice pack slithering to the floor. Stop it! Stop it! All I know is that Tara has come home for Christmas Day and its a miracle to have her home and I dont want to hear any more talk of it! I want no more questions today! Peter, you can stay here and be pleasant or you can go straight back to your family. Thats an end to it. And with that she collapsed back on the couch. You dont have to go, Tara said gently. Im the one who should go. No, Peter said. Its just ??? He didnt want to say any more, because he couldnt think of a single thing to say that wouldnt be a direct criticism of his sisters outrageous and hitherto unexplained behavior. He hauled himself to his feet. Look, I should get back. The kids. Its Christmas Day. Maybe you could meet them. Tomorrow. What do you say, Dad, do you want to bring Tara over tomorrow That sounds perfect. All right with that, Mary It was all right with everyone; it was all right because for the moment it got Peter out of the house. Peter went to the door and Tara followed him. She hugged him again, and with her back to Dell and Mary she narrowed her eyes at him and made a shape of her lips, as if to tell him she had something to say to him, but not in front of Dell and Mary. He wished his parents a happy Christmas. Then he regarded his sister sadly. Happy Christmas, Tara, he said. Oh, my. Happy Christmas, Peter.


CHAPTER THREE A fairy tale ??? on the other hand, demands of the reader total surrender; so long as he is in its world, there must for him be no other. W. H. AUDEN The light was beginning to fade when Peter let himself into his cottage. The door, swollen and damp, was still sticking. Hed have to fix that. Except that hed repaired the door hinge recently, which was why the door was now sticking. One job makes another was a common saying in the Martin household. Whatever was happening with Tara, Peter felt heartened to come back to the cottage, to the mess of kids and dogs, and a home permanently falling apart and finding new ways to demand maintenance. He liked to see Jack and the s sprawled over the carpet, absorbed with whatever fad or kiddie toys were the interest or excitement of the moment. He never objected to untidiness in the way that Genevieve did. But Gen was his rescuer. She was the architect of his salvation. He opened the living room door and they all looked up from what they were doing. Gen with her large brown eyes and slightly freckled face framed by a tumble of unruly dark curls; the s, who all really did look like her clones; the dogs. Then the dogs their heads back down. Did you see her Gen asked. Jack shot a rat, said Josie. Peter flicked his head to indicate that Gen should come out to the kitchen. She got up. Are you going to talk about your sister said Amber. Yep, Peter said. Can we listen Nope.
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