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"Yes, indeed. Her family is our closest neighbor, and she's almost as old as Andy. Was," he added after a short while and seemed to forget where he was.
Lindsay thought it was time to go. "Thank you very much, the food is delicious here, I'll come here tomorrow."
Tony didn't even look up: "Good bye then."
"Good bye."
Outside the wind got even colder and it was very dark. Too dark for Lindsay's taste. There were no lamplights on the narrow street and for a moment she didn't know where to go. There was nothing to see in the whirling snow. Against her will Lindsay wondered how Harry managed driving in such weather.
She stumbled down the street, in the snow up to her waist and cursing under her breath.
"I love winter. Why, I love real winter," that somehow helped and by the time Lindsay was in front of the hotel, she laughed at her own clumsiness.
Mrs. Potter looked up from the women magazine she was reading and disapprovingly eyed her, white from snow.
"That'll leave damp traces on the stairs," she complained.
Lindsay shrugged good-naturedly: "Sorry, I couldn't help it. You must see the blizzard outside."
Mrs. Potter sniffed but said nothing more.
"Good night then," she cried from the stairs and walked to her room.
It was very warm in spite of the fact that there was no central heating, just a big fireplace with burning fire. She took her mobile phone. Of course, Peter has called. He just can't help being a fusspot. Lindsay smiled. Well, she'll certainly ring him later but all she wanted now was a bath. A nice hot bath.
The sound of someone knocking made Lindsay look up from the book she was reading. She imagined Mrs. Potter standing outside and demanding something and couldn't help smiling. But it was not the innkeeper. Outside, shivering in the dim lamplight of the corridor was Silvia, the girl from Tony's.
"Hi," she started somehow awkwardly.
"Hi," replied Lindsay, "do come in, you must be freezing."
"I am," Silvia said and timidly entered the room. "Gosh, it's so warm!"
"You're welcome," invited Donner, "if you wish I'll give you some of my clothes and we'll dry yours."
"Thanks, that would be great," she sat down and looked at the flames, dancing in the fireplace. Lindsay, searching through her case some appropriate clothes, cast a sidelong glance at the girl. She seemed to be gathering strength to say something. Then Lindsay turned away for she found what she was looking for. Just as she wanted to hand the things over, Silvia spoke: "Lindsay, it's what you're called, aren't you?"
Lindsay nodded.
"Well, anyway, I have to tell you about it, just have to do it! I don't know but I just have the feeling that somehow what I tell will help Andy. Well, not quite help but you know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes, I do, go on, Silvia," encouraged Donner.
"So, I want to tell you about Andy's death. That day we went out of town not because we just wanted to walk a bit and to kiss, like the others presume but because Andy wanted to see how the Indians live."
"The Indians?" couldn't help Lindsay. Everything she has heard seemed to fall into a muster but she still couldn't say what it was.
"Yes, he was very interested in their way of life and so we went there. I didn't want to go, you know, I was terrified. I'm kind of afraid of Indians, Lindsay," Silvia raised her green eyes and looked directly at Donner.
"Why?" she asked softly.
"Well, they're kind of mysterious and the old people there are so strange! Anyway, Andy ran away and I stayed where I was, waiting for him to come back. And then I saw him."
Lindsay waited.
""He" was a very old man. He looked as old as Earth; normally people don't live to become that kind of old. And then he was dressed in some kind of rags. So I thought he was an Indian. And then he stretched out his hand and mumbled something in a language I don't know. Or I couldn't understand. I stood there and waited. Then I asked whether he could speak English. He didn't answer, just kept on staring at me. I got frightened, told him I'd call the police but he didn't go away, repeating the phrase he already said. I called for Andy and as I turned around once more, the Indian was gone."
Silvia sighed, tears in her eyes: "And then Andy came back, running and shouting something about Indians. He was delighted." A sad smile. "Suddenly he fell down and cried he couldn't breathe. Lindsay, what happened?"
Lindsay returned her gaze: "I don't know, Silvia. Not yet. But I will find it out; at least I'll do my best. Of course if you want me to do it."
"I want," the girl nodded vehemently, "I know that it can't help Andy any more but it can help me. You know, I'll suffer less then."
"I know and I understand. And I'll try to do it as soon as possible."
And then they just sat and chatted about everything and nothing. Later when Silvia was long gone, Lindsay still remained curled on the sofa, watching the flames. The girl asked whether it was nice to have a baby. And she said: yes, it was. It was indeed: an overwhelming feeling of deep love and a wish to protect it. All of her life Lindsay looked for someone whom she could love but somehow she failed. Now she started to think it was her fault that she never got to know someone for more than a casual small talk. But she just couldn't love someone more than she could love Connor. She has lost him five years ago. Five years! It was crazy, the life. Time slipping away just like sand among her fingers and a certainty that he'd never come back. A tear slid down her cheek but at the same moment she gathered herself: it wasn't the right time to cry. And she won't cry any more. She has always secretly despised weakness and to cry now meant to be weak for her. Therefore Lindsay stood up and crossed the room to the night table.
Her fingers flew, dialing the number.
"Pete, hi, it's me, Lindsay, I've got a story to tell you."
Little Moon had nightmares. It was not for the first time. People of her tribe would say it were nerves, the Elders would say these was ghost of Steven who didn't want to calm down. And this time she was ready to believe them. It somehow troubled her that she hasn't told the police about the old man. She had a feeling it had something to do with Steve's death. But who would listen to an Indian girl? Even the kind policeman who asked her to call if she has got something new to tell him but Little Moon knew that even if he listened, he would do it absent mindedly, not really going to deal with the situation. And she didn't know what else to do.
The girl turned to her side and decided that tomorrow the first thing she would do in the morning would be to go to the place she has met the old Indian man and lost Steve. This thought made her feel better and finally she even fell asleep.
Early in the morning Lindsay woke up. It was still dark and as she turned to check the time on her mobile phone, it turned out to be six o'clock. She put out her hand from under the blanket and shivered: the fire has gone out somewhere during the night and now it was piercingly cold. So Lindsay remained lying where she was until she found enough courage to creep out and face the cold morning.
As she looked out of the window, she gasped involuntarily: under the silvery beams of the moon, the snow glittered like diamonds. It must have been snowing the whole night for every single house and every single car on the street (including her own) was covered with about ten inches snow, if not more. She couldn't see the forest right now, just a big black spot looking magnificent but a bit malicious to her. The road was covered with snow and while Lindsay tried to figure out how she was going to go out, she couldn't help smiling thinking how sour would Mrs. Potter look when she returned.
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