Fiddlefoot Read Online Free

mockery, and Carrie felt a tenseness gather within her. She knew that look in him, and she knew she could not resist it. He said now, “I want to say a lot of things tonight, Carrie. I’m going to, if you won’t jump down my throat.”
    Carrie nodded mutely.
    A kind of shadow crawled up into Frank’s eyes as he said, “Don’t ever expect me to be sorry about Rob dying, or even say I am. There hasn’t a dog died in this town in ten years that wasn’t mourned more than Rob will be. I know it, and you know it, so let’s say it.”
    Carrie nodded again.
    Frank’s swift smile came and went, and he was again serious.
    â€œBut I got Saber from him. I’m going to keep it and I’m going to work it.”
    He looked at Carrie levelly, waiting, and she didn’t move.
    â€œSo I think we ought to get married,” Frank said.
    Carrie regarded him a few bleak seconds, and then withdrew her hand and rose. She said, in as light a voice as she could manage, “Eat your pie, son. You’re lightheaded.”
    She walked over to the counter, and with her back to Frank stood there, her fists clenched, fighting the turmoil inside her. She had waited for this, dreading it, knowing it was coming, and now it was here. She could answer it and end it by simply turning around and saying, “All right,” and that was what she had ached to do for five years. But something in her now, as before, told her that it was too easy, and that it would be fatal.
    She heard Frank rise, gather up his dishes, take them to the sink and pump water on them. When she turned, her face stiff and expressionless, he was standing by the sink, rolling a cigarette. Without looking at her he said, “You used to laugh when you said no, Carrie. Now you’re mad.”
    â€œIt isn’t funny any more, Frank.”
    Frank dropped his cigarette, pushed away from the sink and came up to her. He put his hand under her chin and tilted it back and waited until she looked at him. “It never was,” he said quietly. “I’ve always meant it.”
    Carrie reached up and removed his hand and held it between hers. “It’s too easy, Frank. I like fairy stories, but I don’t believe in them.”
    â€œThis is one?”
    Carrie dipped her head in affirmation.
    â€œThe Young Prince who quarrels with the King and leaves? When the King dies, the Young Prince returns to marry the Princess and live happily ever after? Yes, that’s one.”
    â€œBut what if it’s so?”
    â€œI want to prove it with you,” Frank said desperately. “You love me. You can’t hide that from me.”
    â€œAnd you love me—when you think of it,” Carrie said quietly.
    â€œI’ll think of it.” He put both hands on her arms and shook her gently. “Carrie, don’t look back. We’ve got Saber. I’ll settle down and work it, and we’ll have a life nobody’s had before. We’ll—”
    He paused, because Carrie had gently disengaged his hands. She backed off a step now, and said, “You almost make me believe you, Frank—almost.” She watched the pain mount in his dark eyes, and knew it was matched in her own, but she went on implacably, “I’ve waited five years. I’ll wait a little longer—until my heart and my head make sense to each other.”
    There was bitterness in Frank’s voice as he said, “And your head says what, Carrie?”
    She shook her head. “You wouldn’t like to know.”
    â€œI want to.”
    Carrie took a deep breath, because she knew this would hurt, because it was all the truth about him she had learned in these five years. “That you’re not only a born drifter, Frank, but that you’re a featherweight. That you’ve never dared try yourself the way a real man must try himself, to find out what he can bear and how he can fight and what he can