must be a terrible trial.”
“My cast itches,” Johnny said trying to distract his father from the subject of his indolence.
“It will be off soon,” Jason said. “I’ll be back in ten minutes and I want your light out by then. And no reading under the covers or I confiscate the flashlight.”
Johnny sighed dramatically. “Good night, Miss Maxwell. Thanks for the game.”
“You’re welcome. Sleep tight.”
She left with Jason, who shut the door behind them. He held up a forefinger, listening for suspicious noises, but they heard nothing.
“Last week I got up in the middle of the night and found him watching television with an ear jack Rose had given him,” Jason said to Carrie as they went back to the living room. “ My Friend Flicka at three in the morning. The kid is amazing.” He bent to pick up a bundle of kindling from a storage space in the wall and began to lay firewood.
Carrie sat in one of the wing chairs that flanked the fireplace and watched him work. When he had it ready he put a match to the pile and it blazed reassuringly.
“That will take the chill off,” he said, standing and dusting his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “I’d better check on Johnny. Be right back.”
Carrie heard his footsteps fade and then return. “He’s passed out cold,” Jason reported.
“What did you expect? He bet the homestead and lost.”
“He’s really a pretty good player for his age, though, don’t you think?” Jason asked, a note of pride creeping into his voice.
“Very good,” Carrie said, smiling.
He sat on the floor at her feet and hugged his knees, staring into the blaze. “It was nice of you to spend the time with him,” Jason said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
“I enjoyed myself,” Carrie answered.
They fell silent, and there was no sound except the snap and hiss of the logs and the distant beating of the rain on the roof.
“You’ve been awfully good about getting stranded tonight,” Jason commented after a while, without looking at her. “I know it’s an inconvenience for you.”
“No problem,” Carrie managed in a whisper, not trusting herself to say too much.
He turned his head to gaze up at her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said huskily.
“So am I.”
He looked back at the fire, and after a moment he shifted to lean against the leg of her chair. If she moved her hand from the armrest she could have touched his head. Her fingers curled in on themselves with the urge to caress and she balled them into a fist. Firelight danced in his hair, infusing its golds and browns with a reddish hue. Carrie tore her eyes away.
I am so in love with him, she thought. How could she have fallen so hard, so fast? She had met him just a month ago and already he had changed her life forever. But somehow that knowledge was not as alarming as it should have been. She was with him now, if only for this night, and she was secure and peaceful, sharing the room and the ruddy blaze with the person whose company she most desired. Words were not necessary. She sighed contentedly and settled back in the chair, lulled by the sound of the rain and the comfort of Jason’s quiet presence. The flames blurred before her gaze and she was asleep.
* * * *
Carrie opened her eyes to see Jason above her, his face only inches away. He was leaning over her chair, his tawny hair rumpled and his features softened by the dying firelight behind him.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said.
Chapter 4
What?” Carrie said, struggling awake.
“I said it’s time we went to bed. It’s almost midnight and the fire is going out. You dozed off.”
“Oh,” she responded, sitting up and looking around her. The hall and the kitchen beyond it were bathed in a rosy glow. “What’s that red light?” she asked, as he took her hand and helped her up.
“The auxiliary system. The power lines must be down. It came on while you were asleep.” He released her hand.
“It’s still raining,” Carrie
“My cast itches,” Johnny said trying to distract his father from the subject of his indolence.
“It will be off soon,” Jason said. “I’ll be back in ten minutes and I want your light out by then. And no reading under the covers or I confiscate the flashlight.”
Johnny sighed dramatically. “Good night, Miss Maxwell. Thanks for the game.”
“You’re welcome. Sleep tight.”
She left with Jason, who shut the door behind them. He held up a forefinger, listening for suspicious noises, but they heard nothing.
“Last week I got up in the middle of the night and found him watching television with an ear jack Rose had given him,” Jason said to Carrie as they went back to the living room. “ My Friend Flicka at three in the morning. The kid is amazing.” He bent to pick up a bundle of kindling from a storage space in the wall and began to lay firewood.
Carrie sat in one of the wing chairs that flanked the fireplace and watched him work. When he had it ready he put a match to the pile and it blazed reassuringly.
“That will take the chill off,” he said, standing and dusting his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “I’d better check on Johnny. Be right back.”
Carrie heard his footsteps fade and then return. “He’s passed out cold,” Jason reported.
“What did you expect? He bet the homestead and lost.”
“He’s really a pretty good player for his age, though, don’t you think?” Jason asked, a note of pride creeping into his voice.
“Very good,” Carrie said, smiling.
He sat on the floor at her feet and hugged his knees, staring into the blaze. “It was nice of you to spend the time with him,” Jason said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
“I enjoyed myself,” Carrie answered.
They fell silent, and there was no sound except the snap and hiss of the logs and the distant beating of the rain on the roof.
“You’ve been awfully good about getting stranded tonight,” Jason commented after a while, without looking at her. “I know it’s an inconvenience for you.”
“No problem,” Carrie managed in a whisper, not trusting herself to say too much.
He turned his head to gaze up at her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said huskily.
“So am I.”
He looked back at the fire, and after a moment he shifted to lean against the leg of her chair. If she moved her hand from the armrest she could have touched his head. Her fingers curled in on themselves with the urge to caress and she balled them into a fist. Firelight danced in his hair, infusing its golds and browns with a reddish hue. Carrie tore her eyes away.
I am so in love with him, she thought. How could she have fallen so hard, so fast? She had met him just a month ago and already he had changed her life forever. But somehow that knowledge was not as alarming as it should have been. She was with him now, if only for this night, and she was secure and peaceful, sharing the room and the ruddy blaze with the person whose company she most desired. Words were not necessary. She sighed contentedly and settled back in the chair, lulled by the sound of the rain and the comfort of Jason’s quiet presence. The flames blurred before her gaze and she was asleep.
* * * *
Carrie opened her eyes to see Jason above her, his face only inches away. He was leaning over her chair, his tawny hair rumpled and his features softened by the dying firelight behind him.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said.
Chapter 4
What?” Carrie said, struggling awake.
“I said it’s time we went to bed. It’s almost midnight and the fire is going out. You dozed off.”
“Oh,” she responded, sitting up and looking around her. The hall and the kitchen beyond it were bathed in a rosy glow. “What’s that red light?” she asked, as he took her hand and helped her up.
“The auxiliary system. The power lines must be down. It came on while you were asleep.” He released her hand.
“It’s still raining,” Carrie
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