Fathom by L. Standage (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

couldn’t get back to sleep. Finally, with a bit of bravery borne from hunger and angst, I threw the covers off and stepped out of the room.

Sleepy, early morning silence pervaded the upstairs hallway. I walked toward the stairs, feeling like an intruder. Just as I started down the top steps, I heard someone moving in the kitchen: footsteps, and the pouring of a liquid. I came down farther. Eamon looked up from where he stood behind the counter. He held a coffee pot and a chipped green mug. I stopped, afraid of his reaction to seeing me.

“Ah, good morning, lass,” he said in a kind, quiet tone. “Coffee?”

I blinked. “Um, sure.” Caffeine, just what the doctor ordered. Literally. He brought out a mug embellished with splashy San Diego lettering and poured coffee into it.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Toast?”

Was he really going to be this nice?

“Okay.”

He placed two pieces of white bread into a small toaster on the countertop and pressed the lever down. Then he bent over the ice chest, brought out a bottle of coffee creamer, a jar of jam, and a tub of butter.

“I’m a bit of an early riser.” He stirred some cream and sugar into our coffee mugs with a plastic spoon, then handed me the San Diego one. “I take it you are as well.”

I walked into the kitchen and accepted the hot mug.

“Actually, no. Not at all. Only when I’m…worried about something.”

“I understand.” He sipped his coffee and looked out the kitchen window. I sipped mine as well. He’d added a lot of sugar. “Let us go for a walk when you’ve finished. I find that a walk is good therapy for one who hasn’t slept well.”

“O-okay,” I said. I jumped when the toast popped up, sloshing my coffee. Eamon placed the bread on a paper plate and handed me a plastic knife for the butter and jam.

“You sure it’s safe?” I dipped the knife into the jam jar. Strawberry—my favorite.

“Of course. I didn’t poison that toast.”

“Huh?” I looked at the toast and gave a small laugh. “Oh. No, not the food. The walk, I mean.”

Eamon grinned. “I’m teasing, lass. I think we’ll be quite all right. The waves are poor this morning and the fog just might keep the joggers from coming out early today.”

“Can Samantha come too if she wakes up?”

“Certainly.”

I smiled, drank my coffee, and ate my toast. Not the most filling breakfast I’d ever had, but Eamon’s kindness both humbled and warmed me.

After I finished eating, Eamon rinsed our mugs out.

“Now then, how about that walk?” he asked. “You’ll probably want to nip upstairs and get yourself a sweater.”

I obeyed and hurried upstairs as softly as I could. Once I walked in the bedroom, however, I saw Sam lying with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. I paused in surprise. Tears leaked down the sides of her face. She wiped them away with her fingertips.

“You okay?” I asked.

“It’s my fault.”

“What is?”

“Everything.” She sniffed. “It wasn’t because they found you at the tidal pools. It was that stupid photoshoot. The costume and the tabloid. You getting hurt. If I hadn’t talked you into it, this wouldn’t have happened.” She covered her eyes. “They wouldn’t have thought...”

I sat down beside her. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “I blamed you for it, when really I was the one who made this happen. The whole thing is just stupid and scary and I’m the cause of it.”

I sat down by her bed.

“You didn’t make that surfer boy take my picture. If anything, it’s his fault. If he hadn’t been such an idiot, then we wouldn’t be here now. It’s not your fault. It’s not mine either.”

She peeked through her fingers. I continued.

“Eamon’s taking me for a walk. Why don’t you come with us?”

She shook her head.

“We’re going to get some real answers.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her sitting up. Then I went over to my luggage, dug for my sweatshirt, slid on my shoes, and went back to the door. Sam still sat on her bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

“It’s okay.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She sniffed again, rubbed her fingers across her nose, and stood. When we got downstairs, Eamon waited by the back door.

“Ready then?” He walked outside. We followed him down the sandy stairs of the deck and onto the deep, dry sand of the beach.

It looked like rain. I hugged myself, glad I had my sweatshirt. My wimpy, thin-blooded body whined at me with the dense chill in the air. I was, after all, a born and bred Arizona girl.

The froth of the waves greeted me like an old friend. I breathed in the comfort the ocean brought me. Far out to sea, the dark ghosts of a few ships were just visible through the fog. I closed my eyes and took another breath before digging my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt and trailing after Sam and Eamon. We strolled toward the ocean until the sand became firm and damp, where he slowed.

“So, you said you like to study the ocean, Olivia?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you, Samantha?”

She snorted. “No.”

“Ah.” He quieted for a moment, meandering along and gazing around at the sky, the sand, and the ocean like a tourist on vacation. I wanted to say cut the crap and tell us we were hallucinating last night, but I resisted the urge as we continued walking.

“About last night…” I said when I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You both were in a place you weren’t supposed to be,” said Eamon. “Habit of yours?”

I closed my mouth and looked away. I glanced at Sam. She stared morosely at the sand.

“Look…” Eamon bit the inside of his lip as if to delay his next words. “Sometimes, things happen. It can’t be undone. We took a lot for granted when our paths crossed and became careless. I’m sorry you were dragged into it. But it happened and