He looked down at her, lifting a stray curl from her face. “No? And how did you imagine this?”
She jerked her head to the bed. “You, me, on the bed.”
He put his head back and laughed, before raking his fingers through her hair and cradling her face. “There’s never any pretense about you, is there?”
“No. Life’s too short.” A shadow came over her as she remembered. “For a long time, after…” She sucked in a breath to continue. “After what happened, I didn’t trust anyone, not really. But you’ve changed that for me. I trust you, and I want to go to bed with you.”
He blinked and froze. Suddenly, she couldn’t read him. It was as if a wall had slammed down, concealing his thoughts, feelings—everything.
“David? What is it?”
“Amber, I’m not making love to you, as much as I’d like to.”
“Why not?”
He was silent for a few minutes as he examined her face. “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve that trust.”
She was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. Trust should be earned.”
“You haven’tnotearned it,” she said, groping to understand.
Again he was silent. “Amber, I love you. I really do. And, believe me, I never thought I’d say that to anyone. I think I loved you the moment I set eyes on you. I felt I could see you, the real you, so bright and hopeful and lovely, and I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. But, frankly, I’m scared that I’ll do something wrong. I want to take this slowly.”
“Slowly,” she repeated, grasping something she understood. “I happen to like slowly,” she said with a spreading smile. “It gives time to savor and understand things better.”
“And I don’t want to misstep.”
She took his hand. “You won’t, because I won’t let you,” she said, pulling him to the bed.
There they kissed and lay down, and listened to the increasingly heavy rain batter onto the iron roof above them, drowning out any other sound. And they got to know each other, slowly, and Amber realized it felt more intimate than sex, more loving than anything she’d experienced.
Later, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, still partly dressed, but content and at peace, as the storm continued to rage all around them.
8
“Oh my goodness, Flo, but David is the one for me! He’s gorgeous and lovely and I’m in love!”
Flo picked up the last cup from the now empty verandah and stood holding a tray of breakfast things. “So you had a good night?” she asked dryly. But, it seemed, Amber wasn’t in the mood for dry.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“Three yesses, goodness. That was a good night!”
Amber followed Flo inside. Water still dripped from the gutter, and the creek which flowed beside the house was high and noisy from last night’s storm.
She closed the door behind her, darkening the hallway, the colored light from above the door bringing chunks of vivid color onto the polished floorboards.
“We didn’t make love, though,” Amber said, before greeting a couple of late-leaving backpackers in the hall who gazed at her with an open curiosity which Amber didn’t notice.
Flo looked from the backpackers back to Amber with a shake of her head. “Come on, we’d better go into the kitchen for this conversation.”
Flo set the tray on the table and poured them both a coffee. “Now, about this making love business. What happened?”
“Nothing, honestly. Well, when I say nothing, we cuddled and stuff, but David didn’t want to make love because he said he didn’t think he’d earned my trust yet.”
“Wow! He said that?” Flo grunted with admiration, before furrowing her brow. “Did that seem a bit strange? Why did he think he had to earn your trust? Has he done something to upset you?”
