Dust Eva Everson (story reading txt) 📖

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Six

Allison

In spite of being in a strange house and not sleeping in the width of my own double bed, once I slipped between the cool of the sheets and comforter, rubbed my feet together for a moment of warmth, I fell asleep and didn’t wake until the morning sun burst around the shades and draperies. I stretched my arms from beneath the cover, felt the chill in the air slap my arms, then sat up and blinked hard. I’d taken my watch off the night before and placed it on the bedside table. Now, checking it, I saw that I’d slept till nearly half past eight. “Gracious,” I said. So much for getting up before Westley.

I scurried to the door, opened it, and peeked out. Indistinguishable voices came from downstairs; I hoped at least one of them belonged to my fiancé. I didn’t cherish the thought of him seeing me first thing in the morning … not yet, anyway. A quick dash into the bathroom, a shower, some makeup, a pair of jeans with a striped long-sleeved sweater, and I was ready to face the day.

And my fiancé …

The mouth-watering aromas of bacon, eggs, and coffee reached me as I took quiet steps down the stairs, hoping not to interrupt what sounded to be an intense conversation between Westley, his brother, and DiAnn.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told her,” DiAnn was saying. “You’re going to have to sooner or later. Putting it off won’t change facts, Wes.”

“I will,” Westley said as my breath caught in my throat and I held it there. “Just not—not right yet.”

“DiAnn’s right,” Paul added. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can hide forever.”

“Nor do I want to. I just—I can’t take a chance on her bailing on me. Not now.” He paused. “I love her, Paul. I swear to—”

“And I don’t doubt that. But you’ve got to come clean with the real reason behind this trip.”

Air sank into my lungs as a thud indicated something had come down hard onto the table. A coffee mug, perhaps. Or a plate. “Will you just stop?” Westley interjected, anger inching its way up in his voice in a tone I’d never heard. “I’ll handle it. If it’s one thing I can do, it’s handle things like—”

“I’d hardly call Allison a thing, big brother.”

I couldn’t breathe, but I forced air in by swallowing gulps of it, hoping my struggle wouldn’t give away my eavesdropping.

“I’m not talking about Allison, Paul. And I need the two of you to stop talking about this. The shower shut off a good twenty minutes ago … she’ll be down any second.”

I blinked then took a few soundless steps back up the stairs. Okay. Okay. Westley hadn’t been talking about me. He’d been speaking of—who knew what. But it was something. Something that would affect me. Something he didn’t want me to know. Something Paul and DiAnn knew about.

But Westley would tell me. In his own time and in his own way, he would. He loved me, after all. He had just declared it in his “I mean it” voice. And he was going to be my husband. Wives and husbands didn’t keep secrets and we’d be married soon enough and then all the secrets he felt he had to protect me from would disappear. Yes, yes. That was it. Westley loved me enough to protect me …

I took one more intake of breath before bounding down the stairs.

“There she is,” Westley said as I rounded the corner to see the three of them sitting at the kitchen table made of thick, blond pine. Beyond them, French doors had been pushed open to reveal a screened-in porch, which looked over a lawn sloping toward a lake that sparkled under the morning sunlight.

Westley stood, walked to me as if tense words had not been exchanged between him and his family, placed his hands on my waist, then leaned down to kiss me. “You must have really been tired.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes searching his, wanting desperately to know what he felt he could not tell me while, at the same time, feeling strangely embarrassed by what I’d overheard—and the fact that I’d been eavesdropping—more than by my sleepiness. But if that’s what he thought … they thought. These three who were obviously in on something I couldn’t know about. Yet.

He kissed me again. “Think nothing of it. Coffee?”

I nodded, newly self-conscious of the physical attention, especially in front of Paul and DiAnn, both of whom I had a difficult time looking in the eye.

“Have a seat,” DiAnn said as she pushed away from the table. “I put a plate in the oven on warm for you. Wes, pour her a cup of coffee. How do you like it?”

“Lots of cream and two sugars,” Westley answered for me. I shot a glance over to Paul, who winked, then pointed to a chair next to him. For a moment, all seemed right with the world again.

“Come here and we’ll tell you about what all we have planned for you.”

I ate, forcing myself to concentrate while Paul and Westley mapped out a day of being out in their boat on the lake—DiAnn had already packed a picnic basket for a lunch we’d enjoy at a spot they’d found a few miles up toward the river. “If the weather keeps up, I may even get in a little skiing,” Westley said, his exuberance reminding me of a child’s.

“Do you ski?” DiAnn asked.

I took a sip of the coffee Westley had made to perfection. “No,” I said after a swallow. “Never learned, to tell you the truth.”

“I can’t believe you’ve grown up in Georgia and you don’t know how to ski,” Paul noted.

“I’m not very coordinated,” I said. “I can’t skate … I can’t dance … you should have seen me on track and field day back when