Intensity Read Free Page B

jail. Or dead. You can't live like that and hope to grow old."
        They drove down out of the foothills into the valley.
        Eventually Chyna said, "I can still see her standing in the steamy darkness on the banks of that canal, greasy with sweat, her hair hanging damp and all tangled, covered with mosquito bites, eyes bleary from vodka. Laura, even then she was still the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She was always so beautiful, so perfect on the outside, like someone out of a dream, like an angel… but she was never half as beautiful as when she was excited, when there'd been violence. I can see her standing there, only visible because of the greenish glow from the headlights of the Mercedes rising through the murky canal water, so ravishing in that green light, glorious, the most beautiful person you've ever seen, like a goddess from another world."
        Gradually Chyna's trembling subsided. The heat of shame faded from her face, but slowly.
        She was immeasurably grateful for Laura's concern and support. A friend. Until Laura, Chyna had lived secretly with her past, unable to speak of it to anyone. Now, having unburdened herself of another hateful corrupting memory, she couldn't begin to put her gratitude into words.
        "It's okay," Laura said, as if reading Chyna's mind.
        They rode in silence.
        They were late for dinner.

    
        To Chyna, the Templeton house looked inviting at first glimpse: Victorian, gabled, roomy, with deep porches front and rear. It stood a half mile off the county road, at the end of a gravel driveway, surrounded by one hundred twenty acres of vineyards.
        For three generations, the Templetons had grown grapes, but they had never made wine. They were under contract to one of the finest vintners in the valley, and because they owned fertile land with the highest-quality vines, they received an excellent price for their crop.
        Sarah Templeton appeared on the front porch when she heard the Mustang in the driveway, and she came quickly down the steps to the stone walkway to greet Laura and Chyna. She was a lovely, girlishly slim woman in her early or mid forties, with stylishly short blond hair, wearing tan jeans and a long-sleeved emerald-green blouse with green embroidery on the collar, simultaneously chic and motherly. When Sarah hugged Laura and kissed her and held her with such evident and fierce love, Chyna was struck by a pang of envy and by a shiver of misery at never having known a mother's love.
        She was surprised again when Sarah turned to her, embraced her, kissed her on the cheek, and, still holding her close, said, "Laura tells me you're the sister she never had, so I want you to feel at home here, sweetheart. When you're here with us, this is your place as much as ours."
        Chyna stood stiffly at first, so unfamiliar with the rituals of family affection that she didn't know quite how to respond. Then she returned the embrace awkwardly and murmured an inadequate thank you. Her throat was suddenly so tight that she was amazed to be able to speak at all.
        Putting her arms around both Laura and Chyna, guiding them to the broad flight of porch steps, Sarah said, "We'll get your luggage later. Dinner's ready now. Come along. Laura's told me so much about you, Chyna."
        "Well, Mom," said Laura, "I didn't tell you about Chyna being into voodoo. I sort of hid that part. She'll need to sacrifice a live chicken every night at midnight while she's staying with us."
        "We only grow grapes. We don't have any chickens, dear," Sarah said. "But after dinner we can drive to one of the farms in the area and buy a few."
        Chyna laughed and looked at Laura as if to say, Where is the infamous Look?
        Laura understood. "In your honor, Chyna, all wire coat hangers and equivalent devices have been put away."
        "Whatever are you talking about?" Sarah asked.
        "You know me,