A Little Learning Read Free

didn’t know the details. Seamus hadn’t paid much attention to Kurt’s conversation on the matter—he’d been too worried that his own children might not turn out all right because they, like Rory Gorenzi, had no mother.
    And if Elizabeth was right, an inaccessible father.
    It was over three years since Janine’s death. There had seemed to be no time for his own mourning, not to mention his accompanying feelings, with his youngest child just one and not even weaned when everything changed. With the whole story unfolding around him.
    How his wife had come to die that way. And his inner conviction that her death had been her own fault. Her most aggravating traits had led to her dying, and he still couldn’t forgive her—and couldn’t speak to his children because he was afraid he’d tell them how angry he was at their mother for being so fatally single-minded.
    Immediately after Janine’s death, the succession of au pairs had begun.
    He dragged himself away from his grim thoughts.
    Rory Gorenzi wore a black snowboarding jacket, black snow pants, Sorel-style boots and mittens. Both jacket and pants were patched with duct tape, and the boots had seen more than a few seasons. “Look,” she said, “I’ve got the key to your place, and I’ll take you over there. I just need to quickly run down there...” She indicated an area across the street and half a block up, “and drop off this stuff.”
    “Can I help you?” He reached out, offering to relieve her of her package, which seemed not only oddly shaped but heavy.
    She sidestepped him. “Oh, I’ll get it. It’s, um, pet food. Just let me... Just—I’ll be right back.” She turned away and tripped over a crack on the sidewalk, and the parcel, envelope and book all flew out of her arms and landed in front of her, the brown paper ripping to reveal what were unmistakably dead rabbits—frozen.
    Seamus ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek and bent to pick up the book and envelope while she reached for the rabbits.
    “My roommate bought these in Montrose,” she explained. “Usually we have them shipped, but we ran out and had to get some while we’re waiting for our next order to arrive. I realize it looks odd. They’re for a snake. It’s not mine.”
    The snake must be large, Seamus thought, to eat full-grown rabbits.
    He glanced back toward a sound behind him, to find his two oldest children and Seuss, the puppy, all breathing steam in the frigid air and gazing at the scene before them with a mixture of disbelief and puzzlement.
    Seuss had one ear up and one ear down, and Rory Gorenzi suddenly swallowed hard and looked away. Seamus had the strangest feeling that she was about to cry.
    She said, shakily, “My dog was just put down yesterday.”
    “I’m sorry,” Seamus responded politely. Though he couldn’t really imagine crying over a dog. He’d never had one until now, and he’d only agreed to the puppy in order to demonstrate, at least to himself, that he did have a relationship with his kids.
    Rory seemed to make up her mind about something. She crouched down and looked at the puppy, who immediately came toward her and sat down, leaning against her legs as if finally he’d found security. “You’re a handsome guy,” she said.
    Eyeing the frozen rabbits with disgust, Lauren looked as though all her suspicions about the residents of Sultan had been confirmed. “What are those for?”
    “My roommate has a...well, a Burmese python. She’s sort of all of ours, but...”
    “Can we see it?” asked Beau, unusually engaged. “Can we watch it eat?”
    “Eating’s maybe not the best time to see her,” Rory said apologetically. “She’s a bit unpredictable then.”
    “How big is this creature?” asked Seamus, inexplicably fascinated by Kurt Gorenzi’s daughter.
    “Well, almost thirteen feet. And she has a nice disposition. It’s just that, well, the disposition doesn’t exactly matter with a snake that size. If you see what I