Read Online The Incredible Charlie Carewe by Mary. Astor - Free Book Online Page A

resolution that his boy would never be left to the mercy of mindless clods.
    Firmly he pulled his attention back to his work. “Adams vs. Williamson. In the matter of final settlement of moneys and properties re: sale of La Junta Mining Corp.”
    Charlie sneezed. “Pardon me. That’s ticklish, Jane.”
    “Item: one highly bridged nose, slightly sunburned and peeling. Item: a pair of black brows, wide in the center, no grizzly beetling.” She traced his features with the tips of her fingers, finally, rhythmically losing them in the springy hairline. “So fine, so precious, so mine.”
    Charlie slept. Watching him, Jane continued the soothing movement, slowly her firm fingertips sliding from the hairline of his forehead back to the form behind his ear, the clipped hairs rough on her palm. His head lay heavy in her lap, his long legs stretched out beside her on the chintz-covered divan. Jane glanced at the little Sheffield clock on the mantel. Another half hour till daylight. A whole, lovely half hour, and then she would have to rouse him and send him back to the dorm. Brian wouldn’t be back till way late this afternoon. What a blessing his passion for fishing had turned out to be. How it used to make her feel sorry for herself! Being stuck in a university town wasn’t so bad, and she had, surprisingly enough, got along well with the wives of the faculty. She was proud of Brian’s position as professor of math, inasmuch as it lent her a dignity she could never have achieved on her own. But there was so little to do. Reading and entertaining and once in a while a movie. The usual chitchat of gossip. And then the Friday open-house afternoons for Brian’s students. Tea and sherry and platters of sandwiches. And the everlasting football talk. The boys liked Brian. He was not at all the stereotyped, stodgy math teacher, and he was quite as eager to dispose of classroom talk and formalities as they. The invitations were general, but the acceptance boiled down to his “pets,” as most of the boys preferred entertainment in less formal surroundings than the pleasant living room of the Brian Dexter cottage near the campus. And one day Charlie appeared. He explained that he had been in the habit of going home on the weekends, as he lived only a couple of hours away, but “for no reason” he had just decided to stay this time.
    She had hardly noticed him at first, until once in the middle of a heated discussion about this season’s team he had caught her in the act of a stifled yawn. His grin was enchanting, but he held her look a moment longer than was necessary to communicate, “I’m bored too!” There was a minute lowering of the eyelids, just enough to shade out the twinkle, and she felt a weakness in her bones; shivering, she got up to close the window, and he quickly went to help. She smiled her thanks, and said, “What a pity Brian’s never brought you here before. I’ve heard him speak of you many times, of course.” Charlie said, “How could I have lived here three years and never even seen you!” “It’s a big place,” she laughed.
    Brian had walked to the arbored gate with some of the late stayers, and Charlie still lingered. “Can I help you carry out the trays?” he said. But the blood was pounding in Jane’s temples, and she heard a hoarseness in Charlie’s voice. Glancing out the open doorway, in the dim twilight she could see that the boys and Brian would be jawing for another ten minutes. Without heeding the warning bell in her mind she pressed her body to Charles, feeling the young muscles of his arms hard around her, his mouth urgent and moist upon hers.
    “I knew this was going to happen,” she breathed.
    “Did you?”
    “Didn’t you?” Startled, she looked at him.
    “No.”
    The young fool! He meant that! She had been prepared to handle impetuosity, to push a tray into trembling hands and playfully push him off to the kitchen, where he could regain his poise. She, the one with