Evenfall Read Online Free PDF

snack and is panting at Andie’s feet.
    “Sorry, girl, no more cookies.” The dog seems to accept this, staying still while Andie slides her hand to the animal’s collar. Made of faded purple nylon, it has a thin tag with the name “Nina” scratched in the metal.
    “Nina? Is that you?” The dog thumps her tail happily, licks Andie’s hand. “Well, Nina, nice to meet you.” Uncle Frank always had a soft spot for animals, Andie knows, and it’s just possible this one kept him company those last few months. She gives the dog a final pat, then straightens, and Nina scrambles to her feet.
    Andie makes a quick survey of the rest of the cabinets. They’re almost empty. She finds a half-eaten jar of peanut butter, a dried-out squeeze bottle of mustard, and a few crumbly tea bags. She’s about to give up when she remembers the bag Gert packed for her last night. It’s unlikely, but there might be something edible there.
    Nina trails along behind her as she climbs the stairs. Quickly Andie makes the bed, snapping the crisp white sheets so they float in the air before gently settling back onto the mattress. Finished, she looks for the bag, but stops when she catches sight of the dog.
    Nina’s standing with her chin resting on Uncle Frank’s old chair, her brown eyes mournful. The chair is rocking slightly under the pressure of her great shaggy head. Thepose reminds Andie of the nights when Frank would read her to sleep. Before sneaking onto the bed, the old Lab Max used to stand the same way, head pillowed on her uncle’s lap.
    There’s a lump in Andie’s throat, and she’s about to cough to clear it when she hears the front door open. Nina’s ears cock forward, but she doesn’t change her position.
    “Hello?” Cort calls.
    “Hey. Coffee’s made; feel free to pour yourself a cup,” Andie calls back. “I’ll be right down.” She rummages in the bag, pulling out a tinfoil-wrapped parcel. Inside is the meat loaf from last night.
    “I have just the thing to cheer you up,” she tells the dog. She grabs some soy bars from her stash and hurries downstairs. Cort is sitting at the kitchen table, two mugs of coffee steaming in front of him. He’s put his shirt back on, Andie’s happy to see. He stands when she walks in the room, but his first words are for the dog.
    “Made yourself right at home, haven’t you?” he says, but Nina ignores him. She’s too intent upon what Andie’s carrying. He laughs and sits back down.
    “What happened to man’s best friend?” he asks.
    “She’s been seduced by Aunt Gert’s home cooking.”
    The dog sits, rapt, small ribbons of drool pooling in the corners of her mouth, while Andie unwraps the blackened lump and puts it on a plate. To her surprise, Nina doesn’t wolf the food in one bite. She smells it carefully before taking a dainty mouthful.
    “And for the two-legged creatures…” Andie hands Cort one of the soy bars. He brings the wrapper to his nose andsniffs it suspiciously, his expression so much like Nina’s that Andie laughs.
    “I’m not a nuts and berries kind of guy,” he says. Nevertheless, he unwraps the bar and takes a dubious bite. He chews, washes it down with a swig of coffee, and looks glumly at the meat loaf Nina is rapidly polishing off.
    “What do you eat on all those camping trips you take?” she asks.
    “Mostly beef jerky. Sometimes venison.” At first Andie thinks he’s joking, but his face is serious. She’d been about to make some smart-ass comment, but catches herself just in time.
    “A week of Aunt Gert’s home cooking would turn you into a vegetarian,” she says instead.
    “I dunno, that meat loaf looked pretty good.” By now Nina is done eating and is lapping the plate. When she finishes, she butts her head hopefully against Cort’s arm.
    “Trust me. This time, I came prepared—I’ve got a case of these things.” Andie waves her empty wrapper for emphasis.
    “You’re welcome to them.” He feeds the last of his bar