Harvest Read Online Free PDF

tremor in the mist, she would stand and feel the earth tilting, the day spilling towards her. As it did today.
    So many dawns have I known. I thank you, Lord, for every one of them.
    "Good morning, darling," whispered Victor.
    Nina focused on her husband's face, smiling down at her. Some who looked at Victor Voss saw the face of authority. Some saw genius or ruthlessness. But this morning, as Nina gazed at her husband, she saw only the love. And the weariness.
    She reached out for his hand. He took it and pressed it to his lips. "You must get some sleep, Victor," she said.
    "I'm not tired."
    "But I can see you are."
    "No I'm not." He kissed her hand again, his lips warm against her chilled skin. They looked at each other for a moment. Oxygen hissed softly through the tubes in her nostrils. From the open window came the sound of ocean waves sluicing across the rocks.
    She closed her eyes. "Remember the time..." Her voice faded as she paused to catch her breath.
    "Which time?" he prompted gently.
    "The day I... broke my leg..." She smiled.
    It was the week they'd met, in Gstaad. He told her later that he'd first spotted her schussing down a double black diamond, had pursued her down the mountain, back up in the lift, and down the mountain again. That was twenty-five years ago.
    Since then they had been together every day of their lives.
    '! knew," she whispered. "In that hospital... when you stayed by my bed. ! knew."
    "Knew what, darling?"
    "That you were the only one for me." She opened her eyes and smiled at him again. Only then did she see the tear trickle down his lined cheek. Oh, but Victor did not cry! She had never seen him cry, not once in their twenty-five years together. She had always thought of Victor as the strong one, the brave one. Now, as she looked at his face, she realized how very wrong she had been.
    "Victor," she said and clasped his hand in hers. "You mustn't be afraid."
    Quickly, almost angrily, he mopped his hand across his face. "I won't let this happen. I won't lose you."
    "You never will."
    "No. That's not enough! I want you here on this earth. With me. With me."
    "Victor, if there's one thing... one thing I know..." She took a deep breath, a gasp for air. "It's that this time... we have here... is a very small part... of our existence."
    She felt him stiffen with impatience, felt him withdraw. He rose from the chair and paced to the window where he stood gazing out at the Sound. She felt the warmth of his hand fade from her skin. Felt the chill return.
    "I'll take care of this, Nina," he said.
    "There are things... in this life... we cannot change."
    "I've already taken steps."
    "But Victor..."
    He turned and looked at her. His shoulders, framed by the window, seemed to blot out the light of dawn. "It will all be taken care of, darling," he said. "Don't you worry about a thing."
    It was one of those warm and perfect evenings, the sun just setting, ice cubes clinking in glasses, perfumed ladies floating past in silk and voile. It seemed to Abby, standing in the walled garden of Dr. Bill Archer, that the air itself was magical. Clematis and roses arched across a latticed pergola. Drifts of flowers swept broad strokes of colour across the expanse of lawn. The garden was the pride and joy of Marilee Archer, whose loud contralto could be heard booming out botanical names as she shepherded the other doctors' wives from flowerbed to flowerbed.
    Archer, standing on the patio with highball in hand, laughed. "Marilee knows more goddamn Latin than I do."
    '! took three years of it in college," said Mark. "All I remember is what I learned in medical school."
    They were gathered next to the brick barbecue, Bill Archer, Mark, the General, and two surgical residents. Abby was the only woman in that circle. It was something she'd never grown accustomed to, being the lone female in a group. She might lose sight of it for a moment or two, but then she would glance around a room where surgeons were gathered, and she'd