Deep Water Read Online Free PDF

a wild whim, Melinda turned the volume up so suddenly that Vic jumped. Then he deliberately relaxed and languidly turned the page of his newspaper as if oblivious of the din. Ralph started to turn the volume down, and Melinda stopped him, violently grabbing his wrist. Then she lifted his wrist and kissed it. They began to dance. Ralph had succumbed to Melinda's mood now and was dipping his steps with swishing movements of his hips, laughing his braying laugh that was lost in the booming chaos of sound. Vic did not look at Ralph, but he could feel Ralph's occasional glances, could feel his mingled amusement and belligerence—the belligerence slowly but surely, with each drink he took, replacing whatever decorum he might have had at the beginning of the evening. Melinda encouraged it, deliberately and systematically: Bait the old bear, hammer it in, kick him, she managed to convey to everyone by her own example, because he's not going to retaliate, he's not going to be dislodged from his armchair, and he's not going to react at all, so why not insult him?
           Vic crossed the room and lazily plucked Lawrence's 'The Seven Pillars of Wisdom' from the shelf and carried it back to his chair. Just then Trixie's pajama-clad form appeared in the doorway.
           "Mommie!" Trixie screamed, but Mommie neither heard nor saw her.
           Vic got up and went to her. "'S matter, Trix?" he asked, stooping by her.
           "It's too loud to 'sleep'!" she yelled indignantly.
           Melinda shouted something, then went to the phonograph and turned it down. "Now what is it?" she asked Trixie. "I can't sleep," Trixie said.
           "Tell her it's a most unjustifiable complaint," Vic said to Melinda.
           "Aw—right, well, turn it down," Melinda said.
           Trixie glared with sleep-swollen eyes at her mother, then at Ralph. Vic patted her firm, narrow hips.
           "Why don't you hop back in bed so you'll be wide awake for that picnic tomorrow?" Vic asked her.
           The anticipation of the picnic brought a smile. Trixie looked at Ralph. "Did you bring me a sewing kit from New York, Ralph?"
           "I'm afraid I didn't, Trixie," Ralph said in a sugary voice. "But I bet I can get you one right here in Little Wesley."
           "You will not," Melinda said. "She wouldn't any more know what to do with a sewing kit than—"
           "Than you would," Vic finished for her.
           "You're being rather rude tonight, Mr. Van Allen," Melinda said icily.
           "Sorry." Vic was being purposely rude tonight in preparation for the story he was going to tell Ralph. He wanted Ralph to think he had reached the end of his tether.
           "Are you staying for breakfast, Ralph?" Trixie asked, swaying from side to side in Vic's arm.
           Ralph forced a guffaw.
           "I hope he is," Vic said. "We don't like our guests to go off on an empty stomach, do we, Trix?"
           "No-o. Ralph's so funny at breakfast."
           "What does he do?" Vic asked.
           "He juggers eggs."
           "Juggles, she means," Ralph explained.
           "I guess I ought to stay up for that," Vic said. "Come on, Trixie, back to bed. It's quiet now, so you'd better seize the moment. You know, 'carpe diem' and 'carpe noctem', too."
           Trixie went with him readily. She loved him to put her to bed, hunt for the kangaroo she slept with and tuck it in with her, then kiss her good night on both cheeks and the nose. Vic knew that he spoiled her but, on the other hand, Trixie got very cold treatment from her mother, and he felt that he should try to compensate. He buried his nose in her small soft neck, then lifted his head, smiling.
           "Can we have the picnic at the quarry, Daddy?"
           "Uh-uh. The quarry's too dangerous."
           "Why?"
           "Suppose there's a strong wind. We'll all get blown right