OCR Text |
Show -25.6 really want to know is if he was sorry you left home. Am I right?" We swooped with a clatter down a short hill; at the bottom the road turned sharply right into a dense evergreen wood-old trees that threw huge branches over our heads clear across the highway, laying down a thick carpet of shadow for us to roll on. "Yeah, I guess that is what I was asking," I said. Carlo let himself slide down in the seat until his knees were higher than his head. "How old was I?" he said. "Eight years old? But I remember." We popped out into the sunlight again and he closed his eyes. I down-shifted to go up the next hill, and downshifted again when it became too steep for third gear. "Adam was never really close to Jacob," Carlo said. "He never understood; he thought all there was to Jacob was clumsiness and a good nature." Impatient powerful cars boomed by us in the passing lane waggling fat rear ends and blowing storms of blue smoke. "Jacob is worse than any of us," Carlo said. "His clumsiness is the price he pays for keeping it down. But to Adam he was just a lawyer, not clever like you and especially me." "What do you mean, worse?" I said. "The most you could say about Jacob is that he's even more bothered by |