Evergreen Falls Read Online Free PDF Page B

gorgeous. I leaned in to try to kiss him, but he backed away and grasped me gently by the shoulders. “No,” he said. “Not like this.”
    He moved to clear away my plate and cup, and I sat alone for a few moments, listening to him in the kitchen.
    The next thing I knew I was waking up in grainy morning light, still wearing my dress and heels, under a light blanket on Tomas’s couch.
    The shame. The horrible, crawling shame. Snatches of the previous night came back to me. Drinking too much, talking too much, falling over too much, trying to kiss Tomas and being rebuffed. I looked at my watch: it was just before five. If I crept out now . . .
    But my bladder was too full for a quick escape. I climbed slowly to my feet, head pounding, and glanced around the room. Couch, coffee table, television. No rug, no bookshelves, no paintings. Tomas was renting, which perhaps explained the lack of finishing touches on the place. The cottage was silent. I could hear birdsong from outside.
    I spied a likely hallway in the hope of finding a bathroom, slipped off my ridiculous shoes, and made my way quietly down it.
    Shortly after, I was halfway out the front door, congratulating myself on having got so far without waking Tomas, when I heard his voice.
    “Sneaking out?”
    I turned. He stood behind the couch, in blue pajamas, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
    “I’m sorry—”
    “I forbade you from using that word last night, remember?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t really remember much.”
    “Stay,” he said, smiling. “Let me make you some toast and coffee, at least.”
    The idea of coffee caught my attention. “You don’t hate me?”
    He shook his head, laughing. “That’s the last thing I feel for you.”
    I closed the door on the cool predawn air. “Thank you,” I said. “And thanks for the blanket. And for being . . . you know . . . a gentleman about it all.”
    “Follow me,” he said, and I followed him to his kitchen, where he switched on the light and indicated I should sit at the table.
    “So, I take it you’re not usually a big drinker?” he said as he fired up his coffee machine.
    “Ah, no. Nor a big dater, I’m afraid. I was very anxious.”
    “I find it impossible to believe I could make anyone anxious.” His bright blue eyes were twinkling.
    “You don’t know the half of it.”
    “You told me a lot of it last night.”
    “I didn’t tell you I’ve never had a boyfriend.” The word boyfriend felt wrong in my mouth, like a word I should have used fifteen years ago, not now.
    “Not one?”
    I shook my head. He busied himself making coffee, and I sat in my embarrassment until he placed a cup in front of me and joined me at the table.
    “Really?” he said, picking up the same conversation. “Not one relationship?”
    “I couldn’t. For . . . all those reasons I spoke about last night.”
    “But didn’t you want a relationship? Didn’t you want a life?”
    “Of course. I longed for it. But . . . Adam’s life seemed to depend on me not doing anything I wanted. Then his impending death made me feel selfish for even wanting something.”
    “Did you have dreams? Aspirations?”
    “Not really. Beyond maybe getting married one day, having children. When Adam died and I realized I had some freedom, I discovered I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
    “So you came up here to find yourself?”
    I shook my head sadly. “I came up here because Adam always wanted to. I didn’t have a dream, so I just picked up his.”
    Tomas sipped his coffee, wearing that listening expression that had kept me talking so long last night.
    “He spent some time up here in the two years before he became ill. He talked a lot about coming back. For a long time, when he was younger, he was quite agitated about it, about not being well enough to travel. As time went by, he stopped talking about it so much. But he had a framed photograph he’d taken on the bush track to the Falls, and he had it