Unsuitable (17 page)

“You must have had formal clothes before,” Carrie said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he poured coffee for both of them.

“I got rid of them all when Louise died,” he answered shortly. He sat in the chair he had drawn up across from her and picked up his plate.

“Yours were better,” he said, passing judgment on his effort. “These are too dry.” He got up to open the drapes again and Carrie caught her breath.

“Jason, your back,” she said.

He turned to look at her. “What about it?”

“It’s all scratched.”

He winked.

“Oh,” she added, catching on. “From my nails.” It looked as if a ferret wearing ice skates had tromped all over his back, providing a fresh counterpoint to the old scarring.

“Don’t blush,” he said to her, returning to his seat. “I like feeling them there. Reminds me that I’m alive. I was dead for too long.”

Carrie didn’t answer, concentrating on her coffee.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked suddenly.

“I’m supposed to go out to my brother’s in California,” Carrie told him.

“California?” Jason said, looking up from his plate.

“He’s sending me the plane ticket.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a few moments and then asked, “Why don’t you stay here and have dinner with John and me? Rose is with her family on holidays and we were going to bach it.”

Carrie looked at him.

He toyed with his fork. “I’d really like it if you came to our house. I’m sure John would, too.”

Carrie surrendered without a struggle. “I’ll call Jim and tell him. I’m going to see him at Christmas anyway.”

Jason got up and joined her on the bed, taking her cup out of her hand and replacing it on the tray. Then he pulled her backward on top of him.

“What are you doing?” she asked as a formality. She knew what he was doing and she wanted him to do it.

“What do you think?” he replied, untying the sash of her robe.

“Don’t you have to get home?” Carrie asked, closing her eyes as he peeled the robe from her shoulders and kissed the middle of her back.

“Rose will be there until four,” he answered, his mouth trailing lower, tracing the curve of her spine.

“Good,” Carrie said, and turned into his arms.

Chapter 9

Thanksgiving was the happiest holiday Carrie could remember. Gloria had visited a few days earlier. She was scheduled to appear in
The Nutcracker
through the holiday season and would not see Carrie until the new year, so she had left Carrie’s Christmas present. The gift was a cherry red cashmere sweater, as soft as heated butter. When Carrie wore it to Jason’s house with a white wool skirt, he said she looked like a winter sprite. He gave her a kiss and Johnny gave her his drumstick, which Jason said was higher tribute than she realized.

November passed into December as the year drew to a close. John’s cast was removed and he began to hobble around on crutches, announcing his presence as they tapped against the wood floors of his house. He was full of stories about his new tutor, Mrs. Stock, a middle aged grandmother who sucked on peppermints constantly and wore her gray hair in Prince Valiant bangs. He declared that she was a poor substitute for Carrie, but tolerated her because Carrie now had more time for card games. He became a shark, beating the adults often. Carrie now owed him money, which he kept track of on a little notepad, totaling up her losses with a felt tip pen. She was reminded of his days as hall monitor and felt that he had a future in the stock market.

Jason and Carrie were inseparable. Their relationship soon became common knowledge as they went everywhere together. Jason, who had been a recluse for two years, suddenly appeared at restaurants and theaters with Carrie on his arm. And there were no more incidents like the one at the auction formal. Jason’s confession seemed to defuse his anxiety about his life with Louise. Carrie realized, as his relief became apparent, that he had been more worried about her reaction to the truth than his ability to deal with it. When they ran into people who had known Louise he introduced Carrie and made small talk until they could get away. Louise’s name would sometimes come up and he would handle the discussion smoothly, often trying to introduce a new topic as soon as possible. But the severe reaction Carrie had always noticed before was gone. He was getting over it. He still had bad dreams, but they came less frequently as his future with Carrie became more important to him than his haunted past.

One night in late December about a week before Christmas, Jason and Carrie returned to the ranch from town. As they drove up to the house they saw a ruddy glow in the sky, and when Jason rolled down the window the air was filled with the pungent odor of smoke.

“Fire,” he said, gunning the motor, and that one word sent a sliver of ice sliding down Carrie’s spine. She sat forward, her heart pounding, and as they turned the corner near the house they could see that one of the horse barns was engulfed in flames.

The car screeched to a halt and Jason bolted out of the car. “Run to the house and call the fire department. Get Rose and Johnny out of there in case the fire spreads,” he shouted to her as he ran, full tilt, toward the barn. Carrie could see other figures running in the distance, ranch hands roused from poker games or sleep, some half-dressed, all dashing toward the burning building.

Carrie ran from the car and burst into the house, racing for the phone. Rose came rushing out of Johnny’s bedroom.

“Did you call?” Carrie asked her, and Rose shook her head.

“I was just about to when I heard you come in,” she replied breathlessly.

The emergency numbers were printed on the base of the phone, but Carrie’s hands were shaking so badly she punched the wrong numbers and had to do it again. Not another fire, she thought wildly as she stammered the address to the person at the other end of the line. Anything but that. Please God, help him cope with it.

Carrie finished the call and helped Rose hustle Johnny into his parka. The two women ushered him out as he hobbled onto the lawn.

One of the hands ran past as they paused on the driveway and Carrie flagged him down.

“What happened?” she asked. “How did it start?”

“We think somebody dropped a cigarette, ma’am,” he said, glancing anxiously over his shoulder at the blaze.

“Jason has strict rules about smoking in or near the barns,” Carrie said.

The man shrugged eloquently. Someone had broken the rules. She watched as he touched his forehead and then ran off to join the others who were engaged in battling the fire.

“Is Dad all right?” Johnny asked her worriedly. “I don’t see him.”

“He’ll be fine, John,” Carrie answered, for her own sake as well as his. She looked at Rose, who nodded approval.

The night was filled with the unmistakable scent of soot and ash as shooting flames licked toward the vault of the darkened sky. It was cold and the trio huddled together, their breath misting the air, as they watched the commotion from a distance. The men ran back and forth ceaselessly, training garden hoses on the inferno, but it was useless. The fire roared on, consuming the barn with amazing speed.

The horses were screaming, a horrible high pitched sound of terror that wrenched the soul. Johnny clutched Carrie’s hand, leaning on one of his crutches, and when she looked down at him she saw that he was crying. His animal friends were going to die. She squeezed his fingers tighter and searched the moving figures for Jason.

Suddenly she saw him, a head taller than the others, and he was unbolting the door of the burning barn. She started. Surely he didn’t mean to go in there. But he did. She watched in horror as he crossed his arms over his face and dashed into what appeared to be a wall of flame.

She shot a terrified glance at Rose but said nothing, careful not to alarm Johnny. But of course he had seen.

“Carrie, he went into the barn! He’s trying to save the horses!” the boy yelled, his voice quaking with fear. She knelt next to him on the frozen ground, unable to think of a comforting thing to say.

“But he’s afraid of fire,” Johnny added in his thin, little boy treble.

Carrie hugged him closer, her eyes on the door of the barn.

Seconds later Jason emerged, struggling to lead a bucking and whinnying animal that whirled in every direction. It bolted out of his control as soon as it saw that it was free. The paddock was fenced and Jason let it run, turning immediately to go back inside.

Several of the other men, shamed by his example, followed suit, and Carrie watched as each animal was led to safety.

“He is saving them, Miss Maxwell,” Johnny said, forgetting to call her Carrie in his excitement. “He is!”

Carrie nodded, not trusting her voice. She swallowed carefully and then said, “And we know how hard that is for him to do.”

“But where’s Sunbird?” Johnny asked, craning his neck to count the horses already released. “Is he still inside?”

Carrie didn’t see the prize Appaloosa either. She also didn’t see Jason. He had gone back in for another trip and hadn’t emerged. She met Rose’s gaze and both women looked away.

“My dad’s been gone a long time,” Johnny said, voicing the thought they all shared. They waited in breathless silence, united in hope.

All at once the Appaloosa burst out of the barn, with Jason riding him bareback. He must have resisted the lead and in desperation Jason had climbed on him, forcing them both away from the danger. Sunbird was wild, prancing and circling, and Jason finally gave him his head, kicking his sides as the horse leaped the paddock fence and continued to run. He ran himself out, eventually pulling up by the gate. Jason jumped to the ground, patting the horse’s neck and handing him to one of the grooms, who slipped a halter on him and led him away. Carrie sighed with relief. She’d been afraid that the ride would kill Jason after he had survived the horse’s rescue.

At this point two fire trucks roared up the lane, sirens blaring, uniformed men clinging to the vehicles’ sides. The hands chased the freed horses and herded them to the other barn a safe distance away. With the arrival of the professionals Jason slumped against the fence, his whole body sagging. One of the firemen ran up to him and she could see their conversation; Jason nodded wearily as the other man gestured and talked. When he left to join his colleagues, Carrie could remain a spectator no longer. Telling Johnny to stay with Rose, she dashed across the clearing as the firemen streamed around her. The trucks were just turning their powerful hoses on the barn when she reached Jason.

He was bent over the top rail of the fence, visibly trembling. His eyes were streaming with tears, and he was shaken by repeated bouts of coughing as his body struggled to clear his congested lungs. Soot almost obscured his skin, making startling green pools of his eyes in his darkened face. When he looked up and saw her he turned away.

“Get back to the house,” he barked hoarsely, not meeting her eyes.

Carrie took off her scarf and handed it to him. After a moment’s hesitation he accepted it, wiping his face and throat. It was filthy after this treatment and rather than return it to her he left it hanging around his neck.

“Jason, what you did…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I told you to look after Johnny,” he said, coughing again.

Carrie started to reply when another of the firemen ran up to talk to Jason.

“It looks like we’re getting it under control, Mr. McClain,” he said breathlessly. “But it’s going to be a long night.”

“You think it will spread then?” Jason asked.

The man shook his head. “Don’t think so. You’re lucky there’s no wind to carry it. The house and the other buildings should be safe.”

Jason nodded, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

The man looked at Carrie. “Ma’am, the men will be wanting coffee. Do you think you could fix us some?”

“Certainly. I’ll get right on it,” Carrie replied, noticing that Jason had seized the opportunity to walk away. She started to follow him when the fireman put his hand on her arm.

“One of the guys told me McClain there went into that barn to get the horses,” he said to her. “Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true,” she answered quietly.

The man shook his head in wonderment. “That would be something for anybody to pull off, but isn’t he the guy whose wife died a couple of years ago in a car crash? I remember we were called to the scene to douse the car. He got his little boy out but the woman was killed.”

“That’s right. He’s the one.”

The fireman exhaled sharply. “All I can say is we could use him in the department. More guts than brains. After what he’s been through you’d think he’d run from something like this instead of taking it on almost single handed.”

“You’d think so,” Carrie agreed, watching Jason run his hands through his hair in that distracted gesture she knew so well.

“Well, got to get moving,” the man concluded. “We sure would appreciate the coffee when you get a chance.”

Carrie nodded as the fireman returned to the others, accepting that she would not be able to talk to Jason now. She went back to the house and joined Rose in making sandwiches for the crew, putting all three coffeepots to work at once. Johnny was sitting at the kitchen table watching them get the food together, and when Carrie glanced in his direction she noticed that his eyelids were slipping to half-mast. She nudged Rose and pointed in his direction. The older woman nodded toward the bedrooms.