At the Water's Edge: A Novel - Softcover

Gruen, Sara

 
9780385523240: At the Water's Edge: A Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0385523246 ISBN 13: 9780385523240
Verlag: Random House Publishing Group, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “A daring story of adventure, friendship, and love in the shadow of WWII” (Harper’s Bazaar) from the renowned author of Ape House and Water for Elephants

“Gripping, compelling . . . Gruen’s characters are vividly drawn and her scenes are perfectly paced.”—The Boston Globe

In January 1945, when Madeline Hyde and her husband, Ellis, are cut off financially by his father, a retired army colonel who is ashamed of his son’s inability to serve, Ellis decides that the only way to regain his father’s favor is to succeed where the Colonel very publicly failed—by hunting down the famous Loch Ness monster. Leaving her sheltered world behind, Maddie reluctantly follows Ellis and his best friend, Hank, to a remote village in the Scottish Highlands. Gradually, the friendships Maddie forms with the townspeople open her up to a larger world than she knew existed. Maddie begins to see that nothing is as it first appears, and as she embraces a fuller sense of who she might be, she becomes aware not only of darker forces around her but of life’s surprising possibilities.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Sara Gruen is the #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of At the Water's Edge, Water for Elephants, Ape House, Riding Lessons, and Flying Changes. Her works have been translated into forty-three languages and have sold more than ten million copies worldwide. Water for Elephants was adapted into a major motion picture starring Reese Witherspoon, Rob Pattinson, and Christoph Waltz in 2011. She lives in western North Carolina with her husband and three sons, along with their dogs, cats, horses, birds, and the world’s fussiest goat.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

Scottish Highlands, January 14, 1945

“Oh God, make him pull over,” I said as the car slung around yet another curve in almost total darkness.

It had been nearly four hours since we’d left the naval base at Aultbea, and we’d been careening from checkpoint to checkpoint since. I truly believe those were the only times the driver used the brakes. At the last checkpoint, I was copiously sick, narrowly missing the guard’s boots. He didn’t even bother checking our papers, just lifted the red and white pole and waved us on with a look of disgust.

“Driver! Pull over,” said Ellis, who was sitting in the backseat between Hank and me.

“I’m afraid there is no ‘over,’ ” the driver said in a thick Highland accent, his R’s rolling magnificently. He came to a stop in the middle of the road.

It was true. If I stepped outside the car I would be ankle-deep in thorny vegetation and mud, not that it would have done any more to destroy my clothes and shoes. From head to toe I was steeped in sulfur and cordite and the stench of fear. My stockings were mere cobwebs stretched around my legs, and my scarlet nails were broken and peeling. I hadn’t had my hair done since the day before we’d sailed from the shipyard in Philadelphia. I had never been in such a state.

I leaned out the open door and gagged while Ellis rubbed my back. Wet snow collected on the top of my head.

I sat up again and pulled the door shut. “I’m sorry. I’m finished. Do you think you can take those things off the headlights? I think it would be better if I could see what’s coming.” I was referring to the slotted metal plates our one-eyed driver had clipped on before we’d left the base. They limited visibility to about three feet ahead of us.

“Can’t,” he called back cheerfully. “It’s the Blackout.” As he cranked up through the gears, my head lurched back and forth. I leaned over and cradled my face in my hands.

Ellis patted my shoulder. “We should be nearly there. Do you think fresh air would help?”

I sat up and let my head flop against the back of the torn leather seat. Ellis reached across and rolled the window down a crack. I turned toward the cold air and closed my eyes.

“Hank, can you please put out your cigarette?”

He didn’t answer, but a whoosh of frigid air let me know he had tossed it out the window.

“Thank you,” I said weakly.

Twenty minutes later, when the car finally came to a stop and the driver cut the engine, I was so desperate for solid ground I spilled out before the driver could get his own door open, never mind mine. I landed on my knees.

“Maddie!” Ellis said in alarm.

“I’m all right,” I said.

There was a fast-moving cloud cover under a nearly full moon, and by its light I first laid eyes on our unlikely destination.

I climbed to my feet and reeled away from the car, thinking I might be sick again. My legs propelled me toward the building, spinning ever faster. I crashed into the wall, then slid down until I was crouching against it.

In the distance, a sheep bleated.

. . .

To say that I wished I wasn’t there would be a ludicrous understatement, but I’d only ever had the illusion of choice:

We have to do this, Hank had said. It’s for Ellis.

To refuse would have been tantamount to betrayal, an act of calculated cruelty. And so, because of my husband’s war with his father and their insane obsession with a mythical monster, we’d crossed the Atlantic at the very same time a real madman, a real monster, was attempting to take over the world for his own reasons of ego and pride.

I would have given anything to go back two weeks, to the beginning of the New Year’s Eve party, and script the whole thing differently.

Chapter Two

Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia, December 31, 1944

“Five! Four! Three! Two!”

The word “one” had already formed on our lips, but before it could slide off there was an explosion overhead. As screams rose around us, I pitched myself against Ellis, tossing champagne over both of us. He threw an arm protectively around my head and didn’t spill a drop.

When the screams petered out, I heard a tinkling above us, like glass breaking, along with an ominous groaning. I peeked out from my position against Ellis’s chest.

“What the hell?” said Hank, without a hint of surprise. I think he was the only person in the room who hadn’t jumped.

All eyes turned upward. Thirty feet above us, a massive chandelier swung on its silver-plated chain, throwing shimmering prisms across the walls and floor. It was as if a rainbow had burst into a million pieces, which were now dancing across the marble, silks, and damask. We watched, transfixed. I glanced nervously at Ellis’s face, and then back at the ceiling.

An enormous cork landed next to General Pew, our host at what was easily the most anticipated party of the year, bouncing outrageously like a bloated mushroom. A split second later a single crystal the size of a quail’s egg fell from the sky and dropped smack into his cocktail, all but emptying it. He stared, bemused and tipsy, then calmly took out his handkerchief and dabbed his jacket.

As everyone burst into laughter, I noticed a footman in old-fashioned knee breeches perched near the top of a stepladder, pallid, motionless, struggling to contain the biggest bottle of champagne I’d ever seen. On the marble table in front of him was a structure of glasses arranged so that if someone poured continuously into the top one, they would eventually all be filled. As a rush of bubbles cascaded over the sides of the bottle and into the footman’s sleeves, he stared in white-faced horror at Mrs. Pew.

Hank assessed the situation and apparently took pity on the fellow. He raised his glass, as well as his other hand, and with the flair and flourish of a ringmaster boomed, “One! Happy New Year!”

The orchestra struck up “Auld Lang Syne.” General Pew conducted with his empty glass, and Mrs. Pew beamed at his side—not only was her party a smashing success, but it now had a comic anecdote people would speak of for years.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne . . .

Those who knew the words sang along. I had refreshed my memory that afternoon in order to be ready for the big moment, but when cork met crystal, the lyrics were knocked straight out of my brain. By the time we got to running about slopes and picking daisies fine, I gave up and joined Ellis and Hank in la-la-la’ing our way through the rest.

They waved their glasses in solidarity with General Pew, their free arms looped around my waist. At the end, Ellis leaned in to kiss me.

Hank looked to one side, then the other, and appeared baffled.

“Hmm. I seem to have misplaced my date. What have I done with her?”

“What you haven’t done is marry her,” I said and then snorted, nearly expelling champagne through my nose. I had sipped my way through at least four glasses on an empty stomach and was feeling bold.

His mouth opened in mock offense, but even he couldn’t pretend ignorance about Violet’s growing desperation at the seemingly endless nature of their courtship.

“Did she actually leave?” he said, scanning the room a little more seriously.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I...

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Verlag
Random House Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2015
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0385523246
ISBN 13 
9780385523240
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
416
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Harder
https://www.edel.com

Neum�hlen 17
Hamburg
Hamburg
22763
Deutschland

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