What is it she’s not telling me when she seems to be saying everything that comes to her mind? And why am I obsessed with learning it all? Jordan frowned at her and thought of the changes she had already brought into his life.
A child lived in the house now. There was laughter and noise and excitement. How long had he let things drift? For the three years Alison had been with him? And how long before that?
He had left the running of the household—and the responsibility of his niece—almost exclusively in his mother’s hands. It had been simpler. Simpler, he reflected. His life, on a whole, had been simpler before Kasey had strolled through the front door. He had been content. And, he realized, like Alison, he had been bored. Harry had called it restlessness. There was little difference. No one in the household had been unaffected by her arrival.
His mother. Jordan frowned again and pulled out a cigar. Beatrice had already dropped a few subtle complaints. But then, he had learned to block out his mother’s comments years before. For as long as he could remember, Beatrice had been involved in her committees, her designers, her luncheons. Both he and his brother had been turned over to a variety of nannies and tutors. Jordan had accepted it. Now, however, he wondered if he had been wise to put Alison’s upbringing into her hands. Simpler, he thought again. But simple was often far from right. Apparently the time had come to take another look at things. He studied Kasey again. Quite a number of things.
“You’re very perceptive, Jordan,” Kasey commented and pushed her glasses back up on her nose.
“Do you think so?” he asked. Once he would have agreed. Now he was beginning to wonder how much he had allowed to slip by him.
“You’ve explained your character’s motivation very well here. It’s beautifully done. I envy you.”
“Envy me?” Jordan took a long drag. “Why?”
“Words, Jordan.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “I envy you your words.”
“I’ve noticed you have a supply of your own.”
“Barrels of them,” she agreed. “But I could never make them play like this. Jordan watched her eyes dart about the pages as she continued reading the manuscript.
“You should understand, you get deeper into this section, the interaction between relatives in Indian culture,” she pointed out.
“Families,” Jordan murmured, thinking of his own.
“Yes. In many tribes, relatives administered public rebuke. Offenders were often exiled. That was tantamount to execution, as enemy tribes would more than likely kill an exiled Indian on sight.”
“A father would send a son to his death?”
“Honor, Jordan. These were a people of honor and pride. Don’t forget that.” She folded her legs under her and interlaced her fingers. “Murder was regarded as harmful to the entire tribe. Exile was the standard punishment. Not sodifferent from what we do today. Behavior between relatives was often regulated by a strict code of rules.”
“Kasey?”
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a personal question?”
She lifted her shoulders. She brought up her guard. “As long as I’m not required to answer it.”
He studied the ash on the end of his cigar a moment. “Why did you become an anthropologist?”
She grinned. “Do you consider that a personal question? It’s very simple, really. It was either that or the roller derby.”
He sighed. She was going to take him on another detour. “God knows why, but I’m going to ask. What does the roller derby have to do with anthropology?”
“Did I say it did?” She took off her glasses and swung them idly by the frame. “I don’t think so. I simply gave you my two career choices. I decided against the roller derby because it’s a hazardous profession. All those bodies ramming into each other, and the floors are quite hard. I don’t deal well with pain.”
“And anthropology was a logical alternative.”
“It was mine.” She studied him a
A child lived in the house now. There was laughter and noise and excitement. How long had he let things drift? For the three years Alison had been with him? And how long before that?
He had left the running of the household—and the responsibility of his niece—almost exclusively in his mother’s hands. It had been simpler. Simpler, he reflected. His life, on a whole, had been simpler before Kasey had strolled through the front door. He had been content. And, he realized, like Alison, he had been bored. Harry had called it restlessness. There was little difference. No one in the household had been unaffected by her arrival.
His mother. Jordan frowned again and pulled out a cigar. Beatrice had already dropped a few subtle complaints. But then, he had learned to block out his mother’s comments years before. For as long as he could remember, Beatrice had been involved in her committees, her designers, her luncheons. Both he and his brother had been turned over to a variety of nannies and tutors. Jordan had accepted it. Now, however, he wondered if he had been wise to put Alison’s upbringing into her hands. Simpler, he thought again. But simple was often far from right. Apparently the time had come to take another look at things. He studied Kasey again. Quite a number of things.
“You’re very perceptive, Jordan,” Kasey commented and pushed her glasses back up on her nose.
“Do you think so?” he asked. Once he would have agreed. Now he was beginning to wonder how much he had allowed to slip by him.
“You’ve explained your character’s motivation very well here. It’s beautifully done. I envy you.”
“Envy me?” Jordan took a long drag. “Why?”
“Words, Jordan.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “I envy you your words.”
“I’ve noticed you have a supply of your own.”
“Barrels of them,” she agreed. “But I could never make them play like this. Jordan watched her eyes dart about the pages as she continued reading the manuscript.
“You should understand, you get deeper into this section, the interaction between relatives in Indian culture,” she pointed out.
“Families,” Jordan murmured, thinking of his own.
“Yes. In many tribes, relatives administered public rebuke. Offenders were often exiled. That was tantamount to execution, as enemy tribes would more than likely kill an exiled Indian on sight.”
“A father would send a son to his death?”
“Honor, Jordan. These were a people of honor and pride. Don’t forget that.” She folded her legs under her and interlaced her fingers. “Murder was regarded as harmful to the entire tribe. Exile was the standard punishment. Not sodifferent from what we do today. Behavior between relatives was often regulated by a strict code of rules.”
“Kasey?”
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a personal question?”
She lifted her shoulders. She brought up her guard. “As long as I’m not required to answer it.”
He studied the ash on the end of his cigar a moment. “Why did you become an anthropologist?”
She grinned. “Do you consider that a personal question? It’s very simple, really. It was either that or the roller derby.”
He sighed. She was going to take him on another detour. “God knows why, but I’m going to ask. What does the roller derby have to do with anthropology?”
“Did I say it did?” She took off her glasses and swung them idly by the frame. “I don’t think so. I simply gave you my two career choices. I decided against the roller derby because it’s a hazardous profession. All those bodies ramming into each other, and the floors are quite hard. I don’t deal well with pain.”
“And anthropology was a logical alternative.”
“It was mine.” She studied him a
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