Read Online The Fortune Quilt by Lani Diane Rich - Free Book Online

right time came.”
    He finally stops. I stare at the book in my hands, and I still can’t process the fact that Christopher has kissed me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and it feels really weird to have his face so close to mine.
    “I’ve always thought we were… special. I felt it. I knew it. But it wasn’t until you told me about the quilt, that I thought… maybe…” His hands trail down my arms, and he takes my hands in his. “Lindsay’s out of town. I’ve got the place to myself. Seemed kind of like the right time.”
    Oh. My. God. Lindsay. My mind is whirling. I’m not certain Lindsay is in love with Christopher, but I kinda think so, and why oh why didn’t I ever just be a girl and ask her and stick my nose in the middle of it and get them together because if I had this would never, ever, ever have happened and…
    Christopher drops my hands. “Okay. Well. I guess the sheer terror on your face is my answer.”
    I blink and look up at him. “Oh. God. No. I just… I wasn’t expecting…”
    “Hey, no big deal,” he says, clearing his throat. “Let’s just forget it, okay?”
    “Christopher…”
    “Come on,” he says, forcing a smile. “I’ll kick your ass in pool.”
    I glance down at the book, then back up at him. “Christopher.”
    He takes the book from my hands and tosses it back onto the front seat of his truck, and slams the door shut. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m just not up for the I-love-you-as-a-friend speech right now, Car, I’m sorry. You coming or not?”
    He looks very much like he does not want me to go with him, so I slowly shake my head. His expression ices over.
    “See you Monday, then.” He turns and goes back inside, and I watch him, frozen where I stand. Part of me wants to run after him, and part of me wants to run away. Part of me feels like I was just hit over the head with a big rubber mallet. I’m not sure that I’ve drunk too much to drive home, but between the beer and the surprise kiss, I’m not taking any chances. I head toward the closest bus stop. I’ll have Dad drop me off here in the morning before work.
    Twenty minutes later, I’m home. I sneak into my room and pull my head under the covers, insisting that when I wake up in the morning, it will have all been a very strange, totally surreal dream.
    Or maybe I have that brain tumor.
    But I don’t smell any toast.
     
    ***
     
    Work the next day is relatively normal, if I ignore the fact that Christopher and I can’t look at each other. Which I manage to do, fairly well, until we get in the Blueberry to go interview the Snakebite Kid. Victor wants the story put together by Monday, which means that I’ll be spending a good portion of my weekend logging tapes and writing the script, and then, Monday morning, it’ll be me and Christopher in the editing booth all day while he puts it together. For once, I envy the news people. Their camera people are just camera people. Editors are an entirely separate group of people. But for Tucson Today , no such luck. We’re more expensive to produce, and we make less money.
    The ride to Snakebite Kid’s house is quiet. Deathly quiet. Christopher asks me if I want anything from the Circle K when we stop for gas, and I say no. That’s it for conversation, until we get to I-10, when twenty minutes of uneventful highway driving looming before us forces Christopher to speak.
    “So. Um. Maybe we should talk?” Christopher asks. He sounds very much like he does not want to talk.
    This is Lindsay’s work, I think. She probably spent half of last night on the phone with him. Poor Lindsay.
    “Um…” I’m usually more articulate. Today, not so much.
    “Well,” he says after a long silence. “I’ve completely fucked everything up, haven’t I?”
    “No. Christopher, it’s just…” I exhale a deep breath. “My mother came back yesterday.”
    Christopher nearly veers off into the next lane of traffic. “What?”
    “She was there when I stopped home