Unsuitable (5 page)

“He loves that show,” Jason mused softly. “I think he sees in it what he lacks: concerned parents, loving siblings.”

“You’re a concerned parent,” Carrie answered, touched by the sadness that crossed his face as he spoke.

“I try to be,” he responded, not looking at her.

“It must be difficult for him to stay still like that,” Carrie said quickly, eager to change the subject. “He’s such an active child.”

Jason nodded. “I hope I won’t have to tie him to the bed.” He gestured to the adjoining kitchen. “You must be hungry. Would you like something to eat? Rose left dinner for us.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Carrie answered, not wanting to impose.

“Coffee then?” he persisted, watching her face.

She thought it would be rude to refuse an offer he so obviously wanted her to accept. “That would be lovely.”

They went together into the kitchen, and Carrie stood awkwardly as he plugged in the pot Rose had left ready. He glanced around at her and noticed her posture: feet together, hands folded at her waist.

“Please, sit down,” he said, cursing himself for forgetting to pull out her chair as she obeyed him. She’s as tense as I am, he thought. We’re both as nervous as jugglers. What did it mean?

Jason joined her at the table as the coffee began to percolate and they looked at one another. Jason cleared his throat.

“So, do you think this arrangement will work out?” he asked, nodding toward the back of the house.

“What arrangement?” she replied, startled.

“Your tutoring Johnny,” he clarified, wondering what she’d been thinking.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Carrie said, feeling foolish. The man must be certain she was an idiot.

“He tells me you hit a home run in the student teacher game,” Jason went on, casting about for conversation. What could he say: come into the bedroom and let me make love to you?

Carrie shook her head. “Kids. You hope they’ll tell their parents you’re the best teacher they’ve ever had. But no. They tell their parents that you hit a home run in a baseball game.”

Jason grinned. “Baseball prowess is much more likely to impress Johnny. He also said you didn’t run like a girl.”

Carrie closed her eyes. “Oh, dear.”

Jason raised his brows. “That’s high praise coming from Johnny, who considers himself to be an expert on running styles. How did you get to be such an athlete?”

“It’s easy when your older brother is a Hartford city all star three years running. He had only me to practice with at home. I had to hit well because he wanted fielding drills. He taught me how to stand, where to plant my feet, how to put my whole upper body into the swing. It’s not really strength, you know, but more a question of coordination.”

She stopped when she saw that he was laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But you look like the last person on earth who should be giving lectures on power hitting.”

Carrie could feel the flush climbing up into her face. “I know. This is my first year at Grovedale and everybody at the game was surprised.”

“I’ll bet the infield all moved up, crowding the plate, when they saw you. And then when you sailed one over their heads they almost dropped dead from the shock.”

Carrie said nothing, but he could tell that he was right and he laughed again. What a nice sound, Carrie thought. She was glad she had made him laugh.

The coffee steamed and Jason got up to serve it. Carrie took her full cup from his hand and sipped it, wondering how long she should linger. She wanted to stay with him but was concerned that she might be obvious about it.

Just as Jason was resuming his seat Johnny’s voice came from the back of the house.

“Dad, could you come here a minute?”

Jason looked at the ceiling. “His master’s voice,” he said, and responded to the summons. Carrie watched him walk away, noticing how young he looked when you couldn’t see his eyes. He returned several seconds later carrying an envelope, which he gave to Carrie.

“A note for Jenny Forrester,” he said solemnly. “I think she and Johnny are an item. Is there such a thing as dating in the fourth grade?”

Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe at recess or on the lunch hour.”

Jason snapped his fingers. “So that’s why John has been asking Rose for a split of champagne in his XMen lunch box every day. I knew there had to be a reason. He’s been trying to impress a lady.”

Carrie smiled. “I guess his injury is going to interrupt a classic romance.”

Jason pointed at the missive in her hand. “He’s apparently trying to keep it alive by writing.
Abelard and Eloise?”

“Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning,” Carrie answered. “Though it would take a stretch of the imagination to see Jenny as Elizabeth Barrett. She has a few problems with spelling and punctuation.”

They looked at one another, their smiles fading as the banter subsided. Carrie took a final sip of her drink and rose.

“I’d better get going. I have a lot of papers to correct tonight.”

“I’ll get your coat.”

As Jason helped her into it Carrie turned and looked up into his face. He settled the coat on her shoulders and his hands slipped down her arms.

“Thank you for coming out to help Johnny,” Jason said quietly. “It means the world to him.” And to me, he added silently.

“I’m happy to do it,” Carrie replied.

“When will I—we...see you again?” he asked, still holding her.

“Thursday,” she answered, her voice almost a whisper.

“Until Thursday,” he said, as he moved back and his hands fell away.

She nodded and stepped through the door as he opened it.

“Goodbye,” she called, looking back at him framed in the doorway. Backlit by the yellow glow streaming from the house, his hair was a gilt nimbus in the October dusk.

“Goodbye,” he echoed, wanting to ask her to stay, unable to frame the words that would keep her. Her car was parked right at the foot of the brick walkway, and he watched her get into it and drive away.

Until Thursday, he repeated to himself and shut the door.

* * * *

Carrie glanced at the overcast sky as she drove up to the entrance to the McClain ranch. She had been tutoring Johnny about three weeks and November was approaching. The boy had a host of signatures, including her own, on his cast and his leg was healing well. He was coming along in his studies and making good grades. In fact, Carrie thought gloomily, her mood matching the weather, everything was peachy. Except for one small problem. She was falling in love with her student’s father.

She looked forward to their cup of coffee together after her sessions with Johnny—too much. She debated what to wear for her visits as if she were seeing the President. She restricted herself to twenty minutes with Jason each time as if she would be shot for overstaying the limit. And then she drove home at night, sick at heart and sick with longing because Jason McClain was still in love with his dead wife.

The merest mention of her caused his mouth to tighten and his eyes to change. Johnny had a picture of his parents in his room and Carrie often examined it, studying the image of his mother. Louise McClain had been blonde and regal and beautifully tall, as Carrie had always longed to be. She had been the ideal physical match for handsome, amber haired Jason. They looked like golden gods together, tanned and perfect. Louise was, in short, the sort of woman who made Carrie feel like a Christmas elf. Convinced of the hopelessness of the comparison in Jason’s eyes, Carrie hid her feelings and suffered in silence.

She noted the lowering clouds as she turned in the driveway and headed toward the house. The wind was picking up and fallen leaves blew across her path, twisting and dancing. She was early, hoping to avoid the coming storm, and Rose would probably answer the door. It was just as well. She was afraid she would reveal too much each time she confronted Jason. Would she look too happy to see him, say the wrong thing? She had considered asking Mr. Dunphy to switch the tutorial to someone else, but she could give no good reason for the request. Johnny would be back at school before too long anyway. Then these visits would end. She didn’t know whether to be glad or not.

Carrie parked the car and walked to the entrance, shivering as the first few raindrops fell. It was cold, not cold enough for snow but raw and blustery, making her wish she had worn a heavier coat.

She rang the bell and waited, rummaging in her purse for the list of assignments she had made up that afternoon. She located it and waited some more, finally ringing the bell again, wondering what was causing the delay. Rose always answered the door promptly and when she wasn’t there Jason did the same.

No one came to the door. She looked around but the yard was empty. Did she have the wrong day? No, she had confirmed the appointment earlier in the week. She trained her eyes on the horse barn in the distance and noticed that the door was ajar. There was a light on inside; maybe an attendant there could let her into the house if Jason was not available.

She hurried across the property through the now steadily falling rain. She slipped through the door and stopped short, shaking her damp hair out of her eyes. When she could see again she became completely still, her gaze fixed on Jason, who was grooming a horse at the other end of the barn.

Absorbed in his work he didn’t see her, and Carrie found that she couldn’t speak. He was stripped to the waist, his hands moving rhythmically over the large bay gelding. She was riveted by the sight of his half naked torso. It was muscular and hard, the wide shoulders tapering to a narrow, compact waist. There was not an ounce of excess weight on him; he was lean, with well developed biceps and a firm, strong back. He moved as he worked and she saw him from all angles, wincing at the scar tissue that covered his chest and upper arms, marring the matte finish of his skin. How beautiful he must have been before the accident; but how beautiful he still was, in her estimation. His disfigurement enhanced his attractiveness. He had endured terrible pain for the people he loved, and he wore the marks of his ordeal like a badge of heroism. Tears formed in her eyes; she could hardly bear the thought of what he had gone through to save his son—and his wife, she reminded herself. He had also tried to save his beloved wife.

Jason looked up suddenly and met her eyes. Maybe he had finally felt her gaze. She started and the blood rushed to her face. He had caught her staring. Again. She was mortified.

His face carefully expressionless, Jason put down his brush and grabbed his shirt from a peg on the wall. He shrugged into it and came toward her purposefully.

“May I help you?” he asked politely. “Did you come out here to see me?”

She shook her head, finding words at last. “No, I...didn’t know you were here. I rang at the house and there was no answer. I thought maybe a groom could let me in.”

“No answer at the house?” he repeated, his brows coming together in concern.

“I rang twice,” Carrie said. “I’m sorry I... interrupted you.”

He faced her and looked down into her eyes. They were still wet. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand.

“Why aren’t you married?” he said huskily.

It didn’t even occur to her to contest his right to ask. “I was engaged,” she whispered. The sound of the rain muted her words so he leaned closer to hear. “When I was a senior in college. He was a photographer, a friend of my father’s. He, well, he couldn’t keep his hands off his models. I guess they were too beautiful.”

“They could hardly have been more beautiful than you,” he murmured, moving his hand around her neck, under her hair.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, her eyes almost closing as his fingers caressed her. “Very beautiful. Sophisticated. And tall.”

“He was a fool if he couldn’t be faithful to you,” Jason said, his voice suffused with anger. “And after him? Anyone?”

“No one,” she breathed, dazed by his sudden questions, wishing that he would kiss her.

He didn’t. He released her suddenly, so suddenly that she had to take a small step to regain her balance.

“I’d better see what’s wrong at the house,” he muttered, brushing past her and removing a pair of slickers from the tack room. He handed one to her and put one on himself.

“It’s raining pretty hard,” he observed, pausing at the door of the barn to lock it. “We’d better check the weather report. Stay behind me.”

They ran together toward the house and she followed Jason inside. Once there, the reason for her unanswered summons was clear. Rose was running the vacuum cleaner and probably had been for a while. She hadn’t heard the bell.

Jason signaled for her to turn it off and when she did he asked, “Have you been listening to the news? How bad is this supposed to get?”

“I don’t know,” Rose said. “But I think I’m going to set out for home right now, if that’s all right with you. I’d rather not take any chances.” She rolled up the cord and put the vacuum cleaner in the hall closet.

“Do you think you should go home, too?” Jason asked Carrie.

She sighed. “I’m here; I might as well stay for the session. Johnny skipped one last week, remember? He can’t afford to miss the time.”

Jason nodded, accepting her decision. “Go on in, then. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.”