And as Quinn thought of it, Jack eased through the hedge that separated the two houses, and went to help her. He took the tools from her hand, and within minutes he had the crate open, and offered to take its contents, a piece of furniture, inside. Before Quinn could say anything, they disappeared into the house, and a few minutes later, he was back. Jack was cautious when he mentioned her to Quinn.

“I don't know how you feel about it, Quinn.” They called each other by their first names by then, and Quinn was comfortable with it. He liked everything he knew about Jack, and above all the fastidiousness and devotion with which he worked. “She asked me if I could do some work for her sometime. I told her I had a long job here, and she asked if I could do a few repairs for her on Sundays, if I have any spare time. I don't really mind, it's my day off, and I get the feeling she really needs the help. I don't think she has a man around.”

“People probably used to say that about my wife too,” Quinn said with a sigh. “Don't you need some time off? You can't work seven days a week, you'll wear yourself out,” he said with a look of concern. He wasn't crazy about the idea of Jack working for her. He worked hard, and needed some rest, at least on Sundays, since he worked extra hours for Quinn on Saturdays.

“I think I can handle it,” Jack said with an easy smile. “I feel kind of sorry for her. I was talking to the mailman the other day, he says her son died last year. Maybe she needs a break and a helping hand.” Quinn nodded. He couldn't argue with that. And he made no comment, sympathetic or otherwise, about her son. He hadn't told Jack about Doug. There was no reason to, and Quinn thought it sounded maudlin. It was enough that he knew Jane had died. But he and the neighbor had something in common, not that it was something he wanted to talk about.

“I don't mind. Just don't let her take advantage of you, Jack,” Quinn warned, and Jack shook his head. He was willing to help her, he wasn't being forced. And she had managed to find a roofer on her own, and gotten the work she needed done. But she said there were a number of smaller repairs she hadn't found anyone to tackle yet. And like Quinn, she had observed how diligent and competent Jack was about his work.

“She seems like a nice woman. Sometimes you just have to put out a hand, even if it costs you some time. I've got nothing else to do on weekends except watch football.” It was more than Quinn had to do, but he didn't say that to Jack.

And the following day, he noticed Jack going in and out of Maggie Dartman's house. She stopped and said something to Quinn a little while later, as she was going out, and thanked him for allowing her to use Jack's services on his day off.

“He's a great guy,” Quinn reassured her, not wanting to get involved in their arrangement. It was entirely up to Jack what he did in his spare time, and by midafternoon, Quinn noticed that Jack's truck was gone. He really was a decent man.

It was the end of the following week when Quinn remembered the book he'd given him, and asked Jack if he'd had time to read it yet. Jack looked slightly embarrassed and shook his head, and apologetically explained he hadn't had time.

“I can see why, between working here six days a week, and doing extra duty at my neighbor's,” Quinn pressed him a little bit, good-naturedly, and Jack rapidly changed the subject.

Quinn sensed that he felt guilty he hadn't read the sailing book yet, and he didn't want to put pressure on him. He had just thought he might enjoy it, but the poor guy was working himself to the bone on both jobs, particularly Quinn's. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling that Jack could be a born sailor if he wanted to. He had shown such interest in the plans for the boat, and teaching him something about sailing was something Quinn could do for him. He hoped he'd read the book at some point, and not just say he had, but he forgot to mention it again.

It was late January and the work was going well, when Quinn spent an entire afternoon making a list of extra projects he had for Jack, and comments about the work in progress, and he went outside to hand it to him. It was the first really sunny day they'd had in weeks, and the roof work was finally finished, although it had taken longer than planned. He wanted Jack's comments on the list he'd made, and stood waiting for him to read it, as Jack folded it and put it in his pocket, and promised to read it that night, which irked Quinn a little bit. He hated putting things off, and wanted to discuss it with him, but Jack said he had too much going on that afternoon to concentrate on it properly. He promised to discuss it with Quinn the next day when he came in.

But that afternoon, the work having gone particularly well that day, and hating the lull that came on Friday nights when everyone left, Quinn asked him in for a glass of wine, and he mentioned the list to Jack again, and suggested he take it out of his pocket, and they go over it together. Jack hesitated, and tried to brush it off, as Quinn insisted. He was like a dog with a bone about his list, and for an odd moment, Quinn thought he saw tears shimmer in Jack's eyes, and wondered if he had offended him. Jack was generally easygoing and unflappable, even when things went wrong on the job, but he was obviously upset by Quinn's suggestion, so much so that Quinn was afraid he might quit, and that worried him acutely.

“Sorry, Jack,” he said gently, “I didn't mean to press you, you must be dog tired by the end of the week. Why don't you skip tomorrow?” he suggested, trying to pacify him and back down from the pressure he had provided, apparently too much so for Jack. But Jack only looked at him and shook his head, and this time the tears in his eyes were clear. The look he gave Quinn was one of deep sorrow and immeasurable trust, and Quinn didn't understand what was happening. Just looking at Jack upset him. It was as though something in the younger man was unraveling, and could no longer be stopped. And out of nowhere came an explanation that Quinn was in no way prepared for, as Jack quietly set down his glass of wine. He looked straight at the man who had hired him, and spoke in a voice rough with emotion, as Quinn watched him, and listened with an aching heart. He had meant no harm with his questions and suggestions, but he could see that he had hurt this man whom he had come to respect and like. It was one of those moments when you can't go back, only forward. Like a pendulum swinging only forward, and never back.

“My parents left me at an orphanage when I was four years old,” Jack quietly explained. “I remember my mother, I think I do anyway, I don't remember my father, except I think I was scared of him. And I know I had a brother, but I don't remember him at all. It's all kind of a blur. And they never came back. I was state-raised, as they say. They put me in a couple of foster homes at first, because I was so young, but they always sent me back. I couldn't be adopted because they knew my parents were alive somewhere, and you can't stay in foster homes forever. I got comfortable in the orphanage, and everyone was pretty good to me there. I did okay. I worked hard. I started doing carpentry when I was about seven. And by the time I was ten, I was pretty good. They let me do what I wanted, and I did whatever I could to help out. And I hated school. I figured out early on that if I did work at the orphanage, they'd let me skip classes, so I did, a lot. I liked hanging out with the grown-ups better than the kids. It made me feel independent and useful, and I liked that. And by the time I was eleven or twelve, I hardly ever went to school. I stuck around, going to school when I had to, till I was about fifteen. And by then, I knew I could make a living as a carpenter, so I took one of those high school equivalency tests. To tell you the truth, a friend helped me take it, a girl I knew. I got my diploma, and I left the orphanage and never looked back. It was in Wisconsin, and I had a little money saved up from jobs I'd done. I hopped a bus and came out here, and I've been working ever since. That was twenty years ago. I'm thirty-five now, and I make a good living at what I do. I work hard, and I like it. I like helping people, and working with someone like you. No one's ever been as nice to me as you are, not in all these twenty years.” His voice cracked as he said it, and Quinn's heart ached for him as he listened, but he still had not understood. “I'm a carpenter, Quinn, and a good one. But that's all I am. That's all I'll ever be, all I've ever been. That's all I know how to do.”

“I didn't mean to push you, Jack,” Quinn said gently. “I admire what you do a lot. I couldn't do it. You have a real talent for finding solutions and making things work.” And Quinn had noticed that he had a knack for design as well.

“Maybe not,” Jack said sadly, “but you can do a lot of things I can't, and never will.”

“I've been lucky, and worked hard, like you have,” Quinn said, offering him the kind of respect that grows sometimes between two men, no matter what their origins or how simple or complicated their field. Quinn Thompson was a legend, and Jack Adams was a carpenter, and a good one, as he said, and an honest man. Quinn didn't want more than that from him. But Jack wanted a great deal more for himself, and he knew he would never have it. The burdens of his past were too heavy, and he knew it, better than Quinn could imagine. Quinn had no concept of the life Jack had led, or the path he had followed to get there.

“You're not lucky,” Jack said quietly. “You're smart. You're educated. You're a lot better than I am, and you always will be. All I can do is this.” He said it with total self-deprecation.

“You can go to college, if you want to,” Quinn said hopefully. There was a sense of despair about Jack that he had never seen before in the month he had worked for him. He had always been so matter-of-fact and so cheerful, but what he was seeing now was very different. It was a glimpse into Jack's heart and soul, and the sorrow he had concealed there for a lifetime. If nothing else, Quinn wanted to give him hope.