Page 28 of The Making of Mila and Blake
Popeye is in good spirits as the Harding Estate gate peels open before us. He was extra ecstatic when he found all the Jolly Ranchers scattered at the bottom of the picnic basket, and his expression is joyous as we pull up home. Sometimes a little breathing space is all that one needs.
Sheri rocks in the wooden chair on the porch as though she’s been waiting for us to return since the moment we left. Unbelievable. What did she think I was going to do? Kidnap my grandfather? She jumps up from the chair and waves. She has no clients today since the cement for the new arena’s foundation is being laid, so the ranch is too much of an active construction zone for lessons to go ahead.
“He’s home safe and sound without a sunburn,” I say proudly as Popeye shuffles toward the porch. Sheri just can’t resist examining him, much to his annoyance. “He kept complaining about my sandwiches.”
Sheri laughs and swats his arm. “You’re a harsh critic, aren’t you, Dad?”
As I lock the van and head for the porch to follow Sheri and Popeye inside, one of the many construction workers catches my attention. Unlike the mob of hard hats off in the distance, this one particular worker seems lost, aimless, and strolls across the field right next to me with seemingly no purpose. For a brief second, the sun catches his face.
“Jason?” I call.
The worker looks up. Jason is barely recognizable with his long hair tucked beneath the hat and without his usual quirky fashion taste. In the bright orange shirt and tan construction pants, he could be anyone. “Oh, Mila,” he says. “Hi.”
At least he has my name right this time. I cross over to him. “Are you looking for something?”
I know Jason works construction, but Blake never mentioned that his Dad’s current project has him stationed at myfamily ranch. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed him until now, but I guess I haven’t been paying attention to the workers coming and going.
“Ah, no,” Jason says, shaking his head. “Just felt a little faint over there so I’m taking a moment to steady myself.”
The smell of liquor on his breath is unmistakable. I recoil from him, and I don’t know why I feel so betrayed, but I do know that Jason absolutely cannotbe buzzed on alcohol at work.
“Jason. . . have you been drinking again?” I ask cautiously, trying to keep my tone from sounding too accusatory, even though I already know the answer.
Jason whips off his hard hat and shakes out his hair, the look he gives me indignant. Sure, he seems relatively sober, especially in comparison to the state he was in when I found him outside Dunkin’ Donuts, but I can smell the evidence. “You’re just like Blake,” he says. “Questioning me.”
“Stand right here and don’t move,” I warn him, and Jason stares at me like I have two heads as I spin on my heels and dash up the porch steps. He doesn’tsmellfine.
Jason is one liquor-breath conversation with the project manager away from being fired.Drinking before your shift, regardless of your job, is wrong on all accounts, but especiallywhen you work in construction. Jason can’t operate machinery with alcohol in his system, no matter how sober he believes he is, and he definitely can’t be climbing the hundred-feet-high scaffold. Looks like I need to steer Jason out of trouble once again.
“Sheri?” I call as I race into the house, but I come across my dad first instead. He’s in the kitchen, spreading cream cheese over a bagel, and peers over his shoulder at me. “Dad, I need your help.”
He tosses his knife into the sink and bites into his bagel as he turns to face me, unconcerned. He probably thinks I need help with speeding up the ranch’s crappy Wi-Fi signal again. “Yes?”
“One of the construction workers has been drinking. I can smell booze on him.”
Dad takes another bite of his bagel and thinks. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll have Sheri mention it to the site manager.”
“No, you. . . You can’t,” I splutter. Getting fired from his job would only give Jason even more reasons to turn to the bottle. I don’t want him to get into any trouble; I just want to get him out of here before he lands himself in some.
Now Dad grows curious. “Why not?”
“Because it’s Jason Cox,” I say, and although I doubt Dad needs any further explanation, I add, “LeAnne’s ex-husband.”
“I didn’t know he was working here,” Dad says, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he polishes off the remainder of his bagel. “If he’s drunk during a shift, I need to report that, Mila.”
“No,please,” I beg. “It’s Blake’s dad.”
Dad’s gaze narrows. “I didn’t know you still cared for Blake.”
“Neither did I until recently.”
He deliberates for a moment and then finally, in defeat, he agrees. “Okay. Let’s get Jason home. Where is he?”
The tension in my body slackens as Dad follows me back outside. Thankfully, Jason has remained exactly where I left him, his hard hat tucked beneath his arm and waiting patiently. When he sees Dad, he presses his lips together into a thin line.
“Everett,” he says with a measured nod.
“Jason,” Dad says stiffly, and I get the feeling they haven’t crossed paths all that often, yet they’re perfectly aware of one another. They both loved LeAnne once. “I think you should pull a sickie today. How about I take you home? I’ll have Sheri tell your boss.”
