Twilight Child Read Online Free

what you’re doing.”
    Â â€œI always
know what I’m doing,” she said. She laughed suddenly. “Now there’s a fish story
for you.” She didn’t elaborate.
    Â â€œGod, I’m
happy you’re here.”
    Â â€œHappy to be
here.”
    Â Across the
table, he watched her.
    Â â€œI’m crazy
about you, Frances.”
    Â He couldn’t
be that, she told herself. Crazy about her? She repeated the words in her mind,
wondering. To put your trust in someone required an enormous act of faith. She
wanted to trust him, yearned to trust him. Hadn’t she lied for him about Sally?
Or had it been for herself?
    Â â€œIt’s the
wine.”
    Â â€œThere you go
again.”
    Â â€œWell, what
do you expect me to say?” The fact was, she didn’t know exactly how to behave.
But don’t stop, she said in her heart. He seemed to have heard her.
    Â â€œI’m telling
you how I feel. You don’t have to say anything.”
    Â â€œJust sit
here and say nothing.” I’ve done that most of my life, she thought.
    Â â€œI don’t
think of anything but you. I think I’ve already told you that.”
    Â â€œWhat about
computers?”
    Â â€œA far
second.”
    Â It was
strange to hear these things. But it was refreshing, like a glass of water
after a long thirst. Was he really talking about her?
    Â Despite
Chuck’s death, she still could not shake the discipline of marriage. Hadn’t she
been a true and faithful wife? Had she ever known another man in an intimate
physical way? Chuck, she was sure, had felt some macho sense of pride in being
the first, even though it had happened before they were married. Whether or not
she had felt the pleasure that sex was supposed to bring was another story. The
fact was that she had felt nothing. Nothing.
    Â â€œI’m courting
you, Frances,” he whispered. “I’m so in love with you, I can’t stand it.”
    Â She looked at
him and bit her lip. Her gaze drifted about the room.
    Â â€œI know you
must think that it’s happening too fast. I mean so soon after—” He cleared his
throat. “I just can’t keep it in anymore, Frances. If I’m out of line, forgive
me. It’s a fact, and I’m acknowledging it. I know I’m taking an awful chance.”
    Â â€œI don’t
understand.”
    Â â€œYou know.
Going all out. Baring what’s in my heart.” He paused. “And the other.”
    Â â€œThe other?”
    Â â€œMy first marriage.” The mention of marriage pounded home the message. His candor stunned
her. But he continued relentlessly. “It crippled me, Frances. I can still see
them both looking at me as if I was the mad one. Eight years and it’s still
with me.” His voice broke with emotion.
    Â â€œPeople make
mistakes,” she said foolishly, wondering in what other way she was expected to
respond. She knew that she was speaking for herself as well. We’ve both been
crippled, she wanted to say, but didn’t. She did sense that she was beginning
to look at him in a new way.
    Â â€œI’m dead
serious, Frances,” he said. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes seemed
moist and glowing.
    Â â€œI’m not
questioning that, Peter,” she said gently.
    Â He smiled
boyishly and showed her his palms. They were damp with perspiration.
    Â â€œI feel like
an adolescent. Dammit, I’m thirty-eight years old and I want to write you love
notes and carve our initials in trees.” He paused for a moment, and she felt
pressured to respond in some way.
    Â â€œIt’s just
that I’m not prepared . . .” she stammered. Prepared for what?
Had she ever been prepared for anything? “I’m a widow with a small child,
Peter.” She looked around the room. “And my real life is far, far away from
here. Really it is.