When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever
I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped
potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.
When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before
starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp
hair up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had
three messages.
"Bella," my mom wrote…
Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it
raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but
I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi.
Mom.
I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.
"Bella," she wrote…
Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.
The last was from this morning.
Isabella,
If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.
I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for
jumping the gun.
Mom,
Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.
Bella.
I sent that, and began again.
Mom,
Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something
to write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some
nice kids who sit by me at lunch.
Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up
Friday.
Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but
really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.
I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my
e-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.
Bella.
I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currently
studying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was
doing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried
downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.
"Bella?" my father called out when he heard me on the stairs.
Who else? I thought to myself.
"Hey, Dad, welcome home."
"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I
bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun
on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would
always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he
considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not
depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.
打开的书（3）
到家后，我把所有的食品杂货都卸了下来，填满了我所能找到的储藏空间。希望查理不会介意。我用食品包装箔包了一些土豆，放进了烤箱烤，用调味汁儿腌了一块牛排，然后平放在了冰箱里的一盒子鸡蛋上面。
做完这些，我拎着书包上楼了。做作业之前，我换了一套干爽的运动套装，把潮乎乎的头发扎成了一个马尾辫，还查了一下电子邮件，我来这里后还是第一次查收邮件，一共有三封。
"贝拉，"我妈妈写的……
一进门就要给我写信。告诉我你这一路飞行的情况。在下雨吗？我已经开始想你了。去佛罗里达的行李，我已经收拾得差不多了，可我找不到我的那件粉色衬衫，你知道我放哪儿了吗？菲尔向你问好。妈妈。
我叹了口气接着看下一封，是距第一封8小时之后发出的。
"贝拉"她写道……
怎么还不回复我的邮件？你在等什么？妈。
最后一封是今天上午发的。
伊萨贝拉：
要是我今天下午5点半以前收不到你的邮件，我就要给查理打电话了。
我看了一下钟。还有一小时的时间，可我妈"提前抢跑"那是出了名的。
妈：
您冷静冷静。我这就写。别做任何鲁莽的事情。
贝拉。
把这个发了，我接着又开始写。
妈：
一切都很好。当然在下雨喽。我在等可写的东西呀。学校还不错，就是课程上有点重复。我认识了几个很不错的同学，他们吃午饭都坐在我旁边。
您的衬衣在干洗店里——应该星期五去取。
查理给我买了一辆卡车，您能相信吗？我很喜欢。是辆旧车，不过真的很结实，您知道，对我而言这是辆适合我的好车。
我也想您。我会很快再给您写信的，但是我不会每5分钟查一次电子邮件的。深呼吸，放轻松。）我爱您。
贝拉。
我决定读《呼啸山庄》——我们目前英语课正在学这本小说——不过也是为了轻松一下，查理回家时我正好在读。我把时间给忘了，于是赶紧下楼把土豆取了出来，把牛排放了进去。
"是贝拉吗？"我父亲听见我下楼时喊了一声。
还能是谁呀？我心里想道。
"嘿，爸，欢迎回家。"
"谢谢。"我在厨房里忙活的时候，他把佩枪皮带挂起来了，也脱掉了靴子。就我所知，他出警时还从未开过枪。不过，枪还都是上了膛的。小时候我来他这里的时候，他总是一进门就把子弹给卸了。我猜想，他觉得现在我已经够大了，不至于玩枪走火发生意外，也没有抑郁到自杀的程度。
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