A Damaged Trust by Amanda Carpenter

away from the embarrassment of his wicked laughter. She had to hide a grin as she entered the comfortable kitchen to find Mrs. Hastings scurrying about. “Can I help with anything?” she asked gently, watching the birdlike woman fly.
    “Oh,” she said, startled. “No, dear, thank you. Everything is just about ready, if you are. If you would be so good as to tell Mr. Jackson for me…” Mrs. Hastings let the sentence trail off hopefully.
    “Oh, of course,” Carrie replied, returning to the basement. “Ready when you are, chief.” Gabe stood swiftly, muscles in his thighs rippling in the easy movement. Carrie looked down at her hands and said, “Maybe I’d better go and wash my hands to make sure I have all those nasty chemicals off. Excuse me while I disappear.”
    She dashed upstairs and quickly scrubbed her hands thoroughly and dashed out again, then stopped. She was in the main hall where a half bath was positioned, and where she washed her hands, and now Carrie wasn’t sure where to go, besides the kitchen and the front door. She had just decided to try the kitchen and see where she could go from there, when Gabe poked his head around the corner. His dark eyes danced. “Lost?”
    “A little,” she admitted sheepishly.
    “Follow me, then.” He led the way to a large dining room, cool and elegant with a darkly polished, hardwood floor and a large, gleaming and richly brown table that was set for two. Gabe held out a seat at one of the place settings and Carrie seated herself, thanking him. Briefly, she thought she had felt a light touch in her hair, but then thought she had been mistaken.
    “You have very beautiful hair,” he commented as he seated himself opposite to her. She began to wonder if she had felt something in her hair after all. Gabe was watching the gleaming lights in her hair, the rich highlights of yellow blonde and light red, the result of the many hours that she spent out of doors. Curls cascaded unfettered down her neck. It was a pleasantly tousled mess right at the moment, from Carrie tugging odd parts as she concentrated on her work. She was quite resigned to her own hair and didn’t try to keep it under control, for she had found through experience that the more she would try to tame it, the wilder it would become until it would fairly radiate from her head in a chaotic halo. The only way to wear it was either up in a tight knot high on her head or down in a free, casual style, letting the hair do what it would.
    Right now she sighed. “Do you really think so?” she asked. “I get so tired of it. It has a mind of its own.” At this she reached up and tugged a curl on her forehead.
    “Most women would give their eye teeth for such thick and naturally curly hair,” he said, amused. “It must be the classic case of the grass being greener on the other side.”
    Carrie laughed. “That must be it.” She peered into the dish that Gabe handed her. “Mmm, this looks delicious! What is it—creamed chicken?”
    He nodded. “That green stuff floating around is asparagus, so don’t look so dubious. It’s perfectly safe to eat.”
    “But I wasn’t looking dubious!” she protested against Gabe’s teasing. “I was looking hungry—really.”“
    He told her sternly, “Just so that you clean your plate, young lady. Otherwise you don’t get any dessert.”
    She looked meek. “Yes, sir.”
    It was a light and easy meal as they exchanged jibes and quick witticisms. Gabe was a comfortable host and always managed to keep the conversation flowing nicely. He asked Carrie quite a few questions about her past and she answered readily, finding him a sympathetic and pleasant listener. However, he didn’t volunteer much about himself, and she began to get curious as to what motivated him.
    “You know, we’ve talked about me throughout this whole meal,” she said calmly as she relaxed with her coffee in front of her. Mrs. Hastings was preparing their dessert. “And I don’t really find