From the Heart

take a break. We can pick up after lunch.”
    Jordan watched her dash from the room.
    She’s right, of course, he thought, frowning at the closed door. Everything she says makes perfect sense. Why can’t I stop thinking about her? He walked around his desk and sat back down at the typewriter. She shouldn’t appeal to me. Leaning back, he tried to dissect what he felt for her and why. Was it simply a physical attraction? If it was, why was he suddenly drawn toward a woman who was nothing like any other woman he had desired? And why did he find himself thinking of her at odd moments—when he was shaving, when he was in the middle of structuring a paragraph? It would be best if he simply accepted his feelings as desire and left it at that. There wasn’t room for anything else. She was right, he decided. It wouldn’t work.
    He turned back to his notes, typed two sentences and swore.
    Dashing through the parlor on her way to her room, Kasey spotted Alison sitting primly on the sofa reading. The girl looked up, and her eyes lit.
    “Hi.” Kasey could feel nerves and longings still running through her. “Playing hookey?”
    “It’s Saturday,” Alison told her. She gave Kasey a hesitant smile.
    “Oh.” She would have had to be blind not to see the needs in the child’s eyes. Setting aside her own problems, she sat next to Alison. “What’re you reading?”
    “ Wuthering Heights. ”
    “Heavy stuff,” Kasey commented, flipping a few pages and losing Alison’s place. “I was reading Superman comic books at your age.” She smiled and ran a hand down Alison’s hair. “Still do, sometimes.”
    The child was staring at her with a mixture of awe and longing. Kasey bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Alison.” She swept her eyes down the girl’s blue linen pants suit. “Are you attached to that outfit?”
    Alison looked down and stammered. “I—I don’t know.”
    “Do you have any grubbies?”
    “Grubbies?” Alison repeated, experimentally rolling the word around on her tongue.
    “You know, old jeans, something with a hole in it, a chocolate stain.”
    “No. I don’t think—”
    “Never mind.” Kasey grinned at her and set the book aside. “With all the clothes you have, one outfit shouldn’t be missed. Come on.” Rising, she took Alison’s hand and pulled her to the patio door.
    “Where are we going?”
    Kasey glanced down at Alison. “We’re going to borrow the gardener’s hose and make mud sculptures. I want to see if you can get dirty.” They stepped outside.
    “Mud sculptures?” Alison repeated as they wound their way around to the garden.
    “Think about it as an art project,” Kasey suggested. “An educational experiment.”
    “I don’t know if Haverson will let you have a hose,” Alison warned.
    “Oh, yeah?” Kasey grinned in anticipation as they approached the gardener. “We’ll see.”
    “Good day, miss.” Haverson tipped the brim of his cap and paused in his pruning.
    “Hello, Mr. Haverson.” Kasey gave him a flash of a smile. “I wanted to tell you how much I admire your garden. Particularly the azaleas. This.” She touched a funnel-shaped blossom. “Tell me, do you use oak leaves as mulch?”
    Fifteen minutes later Kasey had her hose and was busily manufacturing mud behind a clump of rhododendron bushes.
    “How did you know all of that?” Alison asked her.
    “All of what?”
    “How did you know so much about the flowers? You’re an anthropologist.”
    “Do you think a plumber only knows about pipes and grouting sinks?” She smiled over at Alison, amused by the concentration on the child’s face. “Education is marvelous, Alison. There’s nothing you can’t know if you want to.” She turned off the hose and crouched down. “What would you like to make?”
    Gingerly Alison sat beside her and poked at the mud with a fingertip. “I don’t know how.”
    Kasey laughed. “It’s not acid, love.” She plunged in, wrist deep. “Who’s to say Michelangelo didn’t get his start this way? I think I’ll do a bust of Jordan.” She sighed, wishing he hadn’t popped into her head. “He’s got a fascinating face, don’t you think?”
    “I suppose so. But he’s rather old.” Alison, still cautious, began to work the mud into a pile.
    “Oh.” Kasey wrinkled her nose. “He’s only a few years older than I am, and I’m barely out of adolescence.”
    “You’re not old, Kasey.” Alison looked up again. Her eyes were suddenly intense.