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.Did he play the field? Was heseeing other women?He had stopped in the path, beneath a lamppost, and theyfaced each other.He reached out for her hands.Ingrid brushedback her hair, but there were no loose strands to pat back, soher hands fell into his large, warm ones. Tell me, he said. What s wrong? Why d you run away? She looked him in the eye, and he nodded encouragingly.The pines whooshed around them. I can t do it, she said. Ican t tell you.I m scared. Don t be, he said. It s just me. She shook her head. She shook her head. You re pregnant? She laughed. Uh & no. You already have a boyfriend? She shook her head. You re married? Again she laughed. Terminally ill? he said, looking nervous all of a sudden. I m a virgin! she blurted out.He looked taken aback for a while, and then he smiled,crinkling his forehead.His smile was gentle. Well, there snothing wrong with that. She let go of his hands, breaking away, striding ahead, hercheeks burning.She quickened her step until she arrived at theplayground, where she ran to hide in the shadows, sitting on oneof the swings.Once again, she was mortified.This was why shewas the world s oldest virgin.Because having to admit it was sopainful, it was preferable to losing it.She watched Matt s silhouette as it moved closer to her.She couldn t see his face.He came and sat on the swing besideher.They both swayed ever so slightly, sideways and forward,their feet on the ground. Ingrid, it s really okay.I mean, it s not a big deal & Imean & it s sort of overrated, you know & not sex, but &What I mean is, it s very sweet, actually, he said. What? Saving myself for the one? It wasn t like that.Itjust & never happened.Plus, I m over thirty.It s horrifying. Matt smiled. It s not really.It s cute. She sniffed, Matt handed her a handkerchief from his She sniffed, Matt handed her a handkerchief from hispocket, and she took it.She pinched her nose with it, then liftedher glasses and wiped at her eyes.She turned to him.He waswatching her intently, his hands on the chains of the swing.Hewas really much too big for it, like an overgrown boy.She bunched up the handkerchief. I ll wash this and give itback to you. Ingrid, we can take it slowly.I rushed it too fast.I want itto work out between us. You do? Yes! he said. Listen, you want to know something? She nodded.He swung closer and said very softly. I wish you were myfirst.I wish you were the first girl I d ever met.When you meetthe right person, it s like nothing else nobody else.No one inyour past ever mattered.That s what it feels like, when I m withyou.You shouldn t be ashamed & There s nothing to beashamed of. She looked up at him and smiled. Have there been manyothers? she teased.He shook his head. No, not at all. She exhaled. What are you doing for Thanksgiving? I was going in to the city to visit my brother.Why? Will you come to dinner with my family instead? sheasked. Would he mind? Not at all.They ll understand.They ll be happy for me. Good. Now can I ask you something? he asked. Sure. Will you walk over to that tree with me? What for? She found out when they walked over.He kissed hertenderly, her back pressing against the trunk.He ran his mouthalong her neck and cheek, breathing heavily, his lips trembling,so gentle, then rested his face against hers.His breath felt warmand safe.They stayed like that for a while, Matt leaning againsther in the dark, wind-swept park, and though they remainedimmobile, she could feel all that was roiling within him.And then he said it, something Ingrid had never heard fromsomeone other than her family. I love you, he whispered in her ear.Then again, in caseshe hadn t heard the first time: I love you, Ingrid Beauchamp. chapter fortySimple GiftsThe house was redolent with the smells of Freya s cooking: sage,rosemary, melted butter.She had stuffed the bird with chestnuts,cranberries, sausage, and herbs from the greenhouse, mixed withchunks of Joanna s homemade wholegrain bread.The daybefore, Joanna had baked all the staple pies pumpkin, yam,apple, pecan so Freya could have free rein of the kitchentoday.Freya s domain was the savory; she wasn t fond ofbaking, which was Mother s area of expertise.Freya wore Joanna s red kerchief around her hair, alongwith a black Provençal apron with little white-and-purple flowersover a T-shirt and jeans.Sweat poured down her face as shewhirled through the kitchen, juggling pots, pulling baking pans outof the Aga stove, throwing new ones in, washing dishes as shewent, and barking, Stay out! at anyone who had the audacityto stand in the doorway and offer help, including Killian. to stand in the doorway and offer help, including Killian.Freya knew she was bossy when it came to cooking, butthat was the only way to ensure the purity of her magic.Shereally should open up her own restaurant someday, she thought,instead of whiling away her time in bars, although that wouldrequire learning to cook with a team, delegating, giving upcontrol.Maybe.Tonight there would be all the traditional dishes:twice-baked sweet potatoes, haricots verts, garlic mash,blackened brussels sprouts with chunky garlic, homemadecranberry sauce, and thick brown gravy.Of course by the time itwas all on the table, she would have no appetite, not until thenext morning when she woke up famished and would have herown private Thanksgiving feast.Killian, Joanna, and Norman stood by the fire in the livingroom, chatting as they sipped champagne.The table in theadjacent dining room, connected by an open archway, had beenlavishly set for six.Ingrid was the one who had insisted on theromantic candlelight and the best china and silver.She wasexcited for Matt to meet her family as her guest instead of as apolice detective asking rude questions.She was also hoping thather father s presence meant the family would be back togetheragain.Speaking of, where would Norman and Joanna sit?Across from each other or side by side? They had been ratherchummy this evening.With a snap of her fingers, elegant place cards appeared oneach plate, and Ingrid stuck them together just for the fun of it.She d placed Killian and Freya on opposite sides at the headand foot of the table, although they probably wouldn t like that,not being able to touch each other every second or play footsies. not being able to touch each other every second or play footsies.But they were the most logical choice.It wasn t as if she andMatt were established enough to sit at those places [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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.Did he play the field? Was heseeing other women?He had stopped in the path, beneath a lamppost, and theyfaced each other.He reached out for her hands.Ingrid brushedback her hair, but there were no loose strands to pat back, soher hands fell into his large, warm ones. Tell me, he said. What s wrong? Why d you run away? She looked him in the eye, and he nodded encouragingly.The pines whooshed around them. I can t do it, she said. Ican t tell you.I m scared. Don t be, he said. It s just me. She shook her head. She shook her head. You re pregnant? She laughed. Uh & no. You already have a boyfriend? She shook her head. You re married? Again she laughed. Terminally ill? he said, looking nervous all of a sudden. I m a virgin! she blurted out.He looked taken aback for a while, and then he smiled,crinkling his forehead.His smile was gentle. Well, there snothing wrong with that. She let go of his hands, breaking away, striding ahead, hercheeks burning.She quickened her step until she arrived at theplayground, where she ran to hide in the shadows, sitting on oneof the swings.Once again, she was mortified.This was why shewas the world s oldest virgin.Because having to admit it was sopainful, it was preferable to losing it.She watched Matt s silhouette as it moved closer to her.She couldn t see his face.He came and sat on the swing besideher.They both swayed ever so slightly, sideways and forward,their feet on the ground. Ingrid, it s really okay.I mean, it s not a big deal & Imean & it s sort of overrated, you know & not sex, but &What I mean is, it s very sweet, actually, he said. What? Saving myself for the one? It wasn t like that.Itjust & never happened.Plus, I m over thirty.It s horrifying. Matt smiled. It s not really.It s cute. She sniffed, Matt handed her a handkerchief from his She sniffed, Matt handed her a handkerchief from hispocket, and she took it.She pinched her nose with it, then liftedher glasses and wiped at her eyes.She turned to him.He waswatching her intently, his hands on the chains of the swing.Hewas really much too big for it, like an overgrown boy.She bunched up the handkerchief. I ll wash this and give itback to you. Ingrid, we can take it slowly.I rushed it too fast.I want itto work out between us. You do? Yes! he said. Listen, you want to know something? She nodded.He swung closer and said very softly. I wish you were myfirst.I wish you were the first girl I d ever met.When you meetthe right person, it s like nothing else nobody else.No one inyour past ever mattered.That s what it feels like, when I m withyou.You shouldn t be ashamed & There s nothing to beashamed of. She looked up at him and smiled. Have there been manyothers? she teased.He shook his head. No, not at all. She exhaled. What are you doing for Thanksgiving? I was going in to the city to visit my brother.Why? Will you come to dinner with my family instead? sheasked. Would he mind? Not at all.They ll understand.They ll be happy for me. Good. Now can I ask you something? he asked. Sure. Will you walk over to that tree with me? What for? She found out when they walked over.He kissed hertenderly, her back pressing against the trunk.He ran his mouthalong her neck and cheek, breathing heavily, his lips trembling,so gentle, then rested his face against hers.His breath felt warmand safe.They stayed like that for a while, Matt leaning againsther in the dark, wind-swept park, and though they remainedimmobile, she could feel all that was roiling within him.And then he said it, something Ingrid had never heard fromsomeone other than her family. I love you, he whispered in her ear.Then again, in caseshe hadn t heard the first time: I love you, Ingrid Beauchamp. chapter fortySimple GiftsThe house was redolent with the smells of Freya s cooking: sage,rosemary, melted butter.She had stuffed the bird with chestnuts,cranberries, sausage, and herbs from the greenhouse, mixed withchunks of Joanna s homemade wholegrain bread.The daybefore, Joanna had baked all the staple pies pumpkin, yam,apple, pecan so Freya could have free rein of the kitchentoday.Freya s domain was the savory; she wasn t fond ofbaking, which was Mother s area of expertise.Freya wore Joanna s red kerchief around her hair, alongwith a black Provençal apron with little white-and-purple flowersover a T-shirt and jeans.Sweat poured down her face as shewhirled through the kitchen, juggling pots, pulling baking pans outof the Aga stove, throwing new ones in, washing dishes as shewent, and barking, Stay out! at anyone who had the audacityto stand in the doorway and offer help, including Killian. to stand in the doorway and offer help, including Killian.Freya knew she was bossy when it came to cooking, butthat was the only way to ensure the purity of her magic.Shereally should open up her own restaurant someday, she thought,instead of whiling away her time in bars, although that wouldrequire learning to cook with a team, delegating, giving upcontrol.Maybe.Tonight there would be all the traditional dishes:twice-baked sweet potatoes, haricots verts, garlic mash,blackened brussels sprouts with chunky garlic, homemadecranberry sauce, and thick brown gravy.Of course by the time itwas all on the table, she would have no appetite, not until thenext morning when she woke up famished and would have herown private Thanksgiving feast.Killian, Joanna, and Norman stood by the fire in the livingroom, chatting as they sipped champagne.The table in theadjacent dining room, connected by an open archway, had beenlavishly set for six.Ingrid was the one who had insisted on theromantic candlelight and the best china and silver.She wasexcited for Matt to meet her family as her guest instead of as apolice detective asking rude questions.She was also hoping thather father s presence meant the family would be back togetheragain.Speaking of, where would Norman and Joanna sit?Across from each other or side by side? They had been ratherchummy this evening.With a snap of her fingers, elegant place cards appeared oneach plate, and Ingrid stuck them together just for the fun of it.She d placed Killian and Freya on opposite sides at the headand foot of the table, although they probably wouldn t like that,not being able to touch each other every second or play footsies. not being able to touch each other every second or play footsies.But they were the most logical choice.It wasn t as if she andMatt were established enough to sit at those places [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]