there for three hours one night trying to show him what he did wrong in a game I was foolish enough to claim when he blew it. He can’t seem to accept that I have twenty-five years on him. He wants to know everything and he wants to know it all right now.”
“Are you like that?” Carrie said conversationally, watching as he put tomatoes and lettuce on a cutting board.
He turned to face her, setting the board on the counter next to him. “No, his mother was like that. She didn’t exactly believe in delayed gratification.”
Carrie usually dodged such remarks but this time she confronted him. “John never mentions her,” she said softly. “I didn’t think it was my place to bring up the subject, so I haven’t. I didn’t want to do any harm.”
Jason’s gaze settled on her, his green eyes warm with feeling. “How could you possibly think you could do any harm?”
“Well, I’m not trained. Does he discuss her with his therapist?”
Jason nodded, leaning back against the sink. He folded his arms and crossed one ankle over the other.
“The poor kid has to talk to somebody,” he murmured. “I can’t help him. I love him so much, but I can’t seem to...” His voice trailed off and he bowed his head, his shoulders slumping.
Carrie cleared her throat. “You’re helping him. No one could do more.”
He looked up and searched her face, his expression grave. “Do you really mean that?”
“I really do.”
A sudden rush of wind rattled the window frames and blew a gust of rain against the glass panes above the sink. They both started, glancing around as the drumming on the roof increased to a dull roar. Carrie could hear the sound of rushing water in the gutters beneath the eaves and the groaning of the trees as their branches bent and swayed in the gale. She shivered involuntarily.
“Are you cold?” Jason asked instantly. “I could turn up the heat.”
“No, it’s just the storm.”
“The storm?”
“Yes. On a night like this I always feel like Jane Eyre, wandering the moors in the rain.”
“I’ll build a fire after dinner,” he said, resuming his preparations. He put the rest of the food on the table and joined her, sitting down across from her and reaching for the jar of mayonnaise.
Carrie made a sandwich to bolster her claim to hunger and nibbled at it, watching him eat. He noticed her lack of appetite and said, “Would you care for something else? I know this isn’t exactly haute cuisine .”
Carrie shook her head. “No, this is fine, really. I’m just not as hungry as I thought I was.”
Jason shook his finger at her. “Good thing Rose isn’t here. Those words can’t be spoken in her presence. She goes into a decline when anyone passes up a meal. John has gained six pounds since she came to work here.”
“Her influence hasn’t affected you, though,” Carrie said, commenting on his slimness.
“Oh, she tries. But I burn it all off, I guess. I’m a constant challenge to her culinary abilities. She doesn’t understand that chasing a bunch of horses around consumes a lot of calories.”
“Do you like your work?” Carrie asked, dabbing her lips with her napkin.
“I wouldn’t do anything else. I’ve been crazy about horses ever since I was a kid. When I was twelve I saw some Polish Arabians in a show and started to save my paper route money. Six years later I bought my first blooded stallion. I’ve been building up my stables gradually and now I have some of the best stock in the state. I just got an Appaloosa, and that Indian pony is the smartest animal I ever saw. The other day I …”
He stopped short, pressing his lips together. “Sorry. I forget that not everyone is as fascinated by all this as I am.”
“Go on, please.”
But his communicative mood had passed. He stood. “I don’t want to bore you. Connecticut is not the livestock capital of the world, and sometimes I wind up a little short of interested listeners.”
“I can understand that you
“Are you like that?” Carrie said conversationally, watching as he put tomatoes and lettuce on a cutting board.
He turned to face her, setting the board on the counter next to him. “No, his mother was like that. She didn’t exactly believe in delayed gratification.”
Carrie usually dodged such remarks but this time she confronted him. “John never mentions her,” she said softly. “I didn’t think it was my place to bring up the subject, so I haven’t. I didn’t want to do any harm.”
Jason’s gaze settled on her, his green eyes warm with feeling. “How could you possibly think you could do any harm?”
“Well, I’m not trained. Does he discuss her with his therapist?”
Jason nodded, leaning back against the sink. He folded his arms and crossed one ankle over the other.
“The poor kid has to talk to somebody,” he murmured. “I can’t help him. I love him so much, but I can’t seem to...” His voice trailed off and he bowed his head, his shoulders slumping.
Carrie cleared her throat. “You’re helping him. No one could do more.”
He looked up and searched her face, his expression grave. “Do you really mean that?”
“I really do.”
A sudden rush of wind rattled the window frames and blew a gust of rain against the glass panes above the sink. They both started, glancing around as the drumming on the roof increased to a dull roar. Carrie could hear the sound of rushing water in the gutters beneath the eaves and the groaning of the trees as their branches bent and swayed in the gale. She shivered involuntarily.
“Are you cold?” Jason asked instantly. “I could turn up the heat.”
“No, it’s just the storm.”
“The storm?”
“Yes. On a night like this I always feel like Jane Eyre, wandering the moors in the rain.”
“I’ll build a fire after dinner,” he said, resuming his preparations. He put the rest of the food on the table and joined her, sitting down across from her and reaching for the jar of mayonnaise.
Carrie made a sandwich to bolster her claim to hunger and nibbled at it, watching him eat. He noticed her lack of appetite and said, “Would you care for something else? I know this isn’t exactly haute cuisine .”
Carrie shook her head. “No, this is fine, really. I’m just not as hungry as I thought I was.”
Jason shook his finger at her. “Good thing Rose isn’t here. Those words can’t be spoken in her presence. She goes into a decline when anyone passes up a meal. John has gained six pounds since she came to work here.”
“Her influence hasn’t affected you, though,” Carrie said, commenting on his slimness.
“Oh, she tries. But I burn it all off, I guess. I’m a constant challenge to her culinary abilities. She doesn’t understand that chasing a bunch of horses around consumes a lot of calories.”
“Do you like your work?” Carrie asked, dabbing her lips with her napkin.
“I wouldn’t do anything else. I’ve been crazy about horses ever since I was a kid. When I was twelve I saw some Polish Arabians in a show and started to save my paper route money. Six years later I bought my first blooded stallion. I’ve been building up my stables gradually and now I have some of the best stock in the state. I just got an Appaloosa, and that Indian pony is the smartest animal I ever saw. The other day I …”
He stopped short, pressing his lips together. “Sorry. I forget that not everyone is as fascinated by all this as I am.”
“Go on, please.”
But his communicative mood had passed. He stood. “I don’t want to bore you. Connecticut is not the livestock capital of the world, and sometimes I wind up a little short of interested listeners.”
“I can understand that you
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