Pet Sematary - Stephen King [109]
After a while his head had sunk until he was looking at his hands, loosely linked between his knees. The hum of voices near the back was soothing. He had been relieved to see that Irwin and Dory werent here when the four of them returned from lunch, but he should have known their continued absence was too good to be true.
Wheres Rachel? Louis asked now.
With her mother. Where she should be. Goldman spoke with the studied triumph of a man who has closed a big deal. There was Scotch on his breath. A lot of it. He stood before Louis like a banty little district attorney before a man in the bar of justice, a man who is patently guilty. He was unsteady on his feet.
What did you say to her? Louis said, feeling the beginnings of alarm now. He knew Goldman had said something. It was in the mans face.
Nothing but the truth. I told her this is what it gets you, marrying against your parents wishes. I told her-
Did you say that? Louis asked incredulously. You didnt really say that, did you?
That and more, Irwin Goldman said, I always knew it would come to this-this or something like it. I knew what kind of a man you were the first time I saw you. He leaned forward, exhaling Scotch fumes. I saw through you, you prancing little fraud of a doctor. You enticed my daughter into a stupid, feckless marriage and then you turned her into a scullery maid and then you let her son be run down in the highway like a a chipmunk.
Most of this went over Louiss head. He was still groping with the idea that this stupid little man could have- You said that to her? he repeated. You said it? I hope you rot in hell! Goldman said, and heads turned sharply toward the sound of his voice. Tears began to squeeze out of Irwin Goldmans bloodshot brown eyes. His bald head glowed under the muted fluorescent lights. You made my wonderful daughter into a scullery maid destroyed her future
took her away and let my grandson die a dirty death in a country road.
His voice rose to a hectoring scream.
Where were you? Sitting on your ass while he was playing in the road? Thinking about your stupid medical articles? What were you doing, you shit? You stinking shit! Killer of children!
There they were. There they were at the front of the East Room. There they were, and Louis saw his arm go out. He saw the sleeve of his suit coat pull back from the cuff of his white shirt. He saw the mellow gleam of one cufflink. Rachel had given him the set for their third wedding anniversary, never knowing that her husband would someday wear these cufflinks to the funeral ceremonies of their then-unborn son. His fist was just something tied to the end of his arm. It connected with Goldmans
mouth. He felt the old mans lips squash and splay back. It was a sickening feeling, really-squashing a slug with your fist might feel something like that. There was no satisfaction in it. Beneath the flesh of his father-in-laws lips he could feel the stern, unyielding regularity of his dentures.
Goldman went stumbling backward. His arm came down against Gages coffin, knocking it aslant. One of the vases, top-heavy with flowers, fell over with a crash. Someone screamed.
It was Rachel, struggling with her mother, who was trying to hold her back. The people who were there-ten or fifteen in all- seemed frozen between fright and embarrassment. Steve had taken Jud back to Ludlow, and Louis was dimly grateful for that. This was not a scene he would have wished Jud to witness. It was unseemly.
Dont hurt him! Rachel screamed. Louis, dont hurt my father!
You like to hit old men, do you? Irwin Goldman of the overflowing checkbook cried out shrilly. He was grinning through a mouthful of blood.