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6e2ef7f
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Books were my friends," said Catherine, and cooled her cheek, which was red from the heat of cooking, on her wineglass. "I think I learned all my feelings from books. In them I loved and laughed and found out more than in my whole nonreading life." --
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Nina George |
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d808414
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Loving or not loving should be like coffee or tea; people should be allowed to decide. How else are we to get over all our dead and the women we've lost?" Cunco whispered dejectedly. "Maybe we shouldn't." "You think so? Not get over it. but...then? What then? What task do the departed want us to do?" That was the question that Jean Perdu had been unable to answer for all these years. Until now. Now he knew. "To carry them within us--that i..
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monsieur-perdu
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Nina George |
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33223b7
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On the postcard Perdu wrote Catherine that night were the phrases Max had invented that afternoon so he could present them to Samy at dinner. Samy found them so beautiful that she kept repeating them to herself, rolling their sounds back and forth on her tongue like a crumb of cake. Star salt (the stars' reflection in a river) Sun cradle (the sea) Lemon kiss (everyone knew exactly what this meant!) Family anchor (the dinner table) Heart not..
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Nina George |
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a527620
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Because of your love I'm learning to love myself too," she said one morning when the sea was still a sleepy shade of gray-blue. "I have always taken what life has offered me...but I've never offered myself anything. I was never any good at looking after myself." As he pulled her tenderly to him, Jean thought that he felt the same: he was only capable of loving himself because Catherine loved him."
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Nina George |
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a9db0d8
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Then came the night when she held him close as a second great wave of anger smashed over him. This time it was anger at himself. He showered insults on himself, crudely and desperately, with the wrath of a man who realizes, with terrifying clarity, that he has irrevocably wasted a part of his life, and the time remaining is all too short. Catherine didn't stop him, she didn't mollify him, she didn't turn away. Then peace flooded through him..
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Nina George |
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ea56526
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The bookseller read Catherine like a novel. She let him leaf through her and look through her story.
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Nina George |
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8b3de6b
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Occasionally she would flounder in the fog of the blues; what she had seen in the shadows of the night would make her irritable or ashamed or irksome or gloomy for hours on end. This was her daily struggle through the in-between world. Jean discovered that he could chase away the dream-ghosts by brewing Catherine a cup of hot coffee and guiding her down to the sea to drink it.
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Nina George |