For the Girls' Sake

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Adam frowned. "He quit paying child support?"

  "I’m okay without it."

  "The jerk."

  "Took the words out of my mouth." Another of her almost-smiles hid a world of hurt. "He figured you wouldn’t want his child-support checks."

  "I’d shove ’em down his throat," Adam growled.

  "Obviously, I made a mistake there. Except..."

  "For Rose."

  "Yes. I wouldn’t change things if I could."

  "Do you have a picture of him?"

  "Sure. There’s one in the hall. After all, he’s Shelly’s dad. Or she thinks he is."

  Adam wanted, violently, for his daughter to know he was Daddy. Always and forever. Patience, he counseled himself.

  Lynn came back in a moment with a framed photograph of a handsome young man with a confident grin, Nordic blond hair and vivid blue eyes. Although he had noticed it earlier, Adam took it from her and studied it closely.

  “Not much of him in Rose," he decided, glad.

  "Except his eyes. No," Lynn agreed, "there’s even less of his personality in her. I always thought Shelly took after him. He mountain climbs and does that dangerous freestyle skiing and rides motocross. Unlike me, he enjoys taking his life in his hands. Shelly can be so reckless. At eighteen months old, I heard her sobbing in her bedroom. When I raced in there, I found she’d managed to climb out of her crib and scale her dresser. She was perched on top, finally scared."

  "Rose never did get out of her crib. After I bought her a twin bed, I had to sit next to her until she’d gone to sleep the first few nights, because she was sure she’d fall out." He had tried to hide his impatience, not understanding her timidity. He’d tried to justify it by the loss of her mother. She hadn’t gotten it from either him or Jenny.

  "She sounds so much like me," Lynn said quietly. "Finding our daughters the way we have, I keep being hit by how much is innate instead of environmental. Rose is mine and Shelly yours, no matter how much we want it otherwise."

  A clamp squeezed his chest. He couldn’t deny a word she’d said, however desperately he would have liked to. Rose is mine and Shelly yours. He adored his Rosebud. He wouldn’t let her be someone else’s.

  "We’d better go as soon as Rose wakes up," he said with brusqueness calculated to hide his disquiet. Staying was no longer an option. He needed distance to think about this. To figure out whether he really did trust this woman.

  “Sure," Lynn said, with a faint ironic smile. "I assumed you would."

  "But you’ll bring her over in two weeks? And stay?"

  "Of course I will."

  "We have each other over a barrel, don’t we?"

  Their eyes met, stark honesty between them for once. "You could say that." Was it bitterness or fright that made her voice momentarily tremulous. "You have Rose, and I have Shelly."

  "A balance of power."

  "I don’t feel balanced." She pressed her lips together. "You and I both know I could never come up with the money to fight you."

  "But I’d never hurt Shelly by destroying you."

  "I have to believe that. Don’t I?" She backed away. "Now, I’ll leave you to...to do whatever..." Whirling, she was gone, and Adam was left to wonder whether those were tears clogging her throat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ALTHOUGH NOT MORE THAN a few months old, this library book was already well read, the pages opening easily to the beginning.

  "Not all princesses are beautiful," Lynn read. "In fact, some are plain. A few are even ugly."

  A child curled on each side of her. Rose sucked her thumb; Shelly held tight to her flannel blankie. Both were rapt on the simple watercolor drawing of a truly ugly princess whose tiara crowned a head of lank brown hair.

  She read on, their small bodies warm, their giggles sweet to her ears. Both girls smelled of soap and minty toothpaste. They wore nighties and fluffy socks to keep their toes warm. When she finished and asked if they wanted another story, two vigorous nods were her answer.

  Since they’d visited the library just that afternoon and chosen twenty books, she imagined story time would go on for a cozy half hour or more. It was her idea of bliss.

  The only mildly discomfiting note was

  Adam’s presence, and she didn’t find it nearly as disturbing as she would have a month before. Familiarity bred...well, not indifference, unfortunately, but something almost as good: near trust. Even liking.

  This was the fourth visit since they’d agreed on these overnight stays. Counting, Lynn realized in amazement that over three months had passed since that first time when Adam had walked into her bookstore with Rose holding his hand.

  Tonight he was reading in what she’d learned was his favorite chair, brown distressed leather with wide arms and a big ottoman for his feet. The newspaper rustled as he turned pages. Once, when the girls got a good belly laugh from the story, Lynn glanced up and saw him smiling as he watched them over the paper. A month ago, his smile would have died. Now their gazes met in mutual understanding and even a degree of warmth before she turned the page and continued the story.

  The third book told of a boy’s relationship with a beloved uncle who was a navy captain. It was about the celebration of homecoming and the sadness of goodbyes. When Lynn closed the book, Rose took her thumb from her mouth.

  "I don’t want you to go tomorrow."

  Lynn wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. "Oh, sweetie, I’m going to miss you, too."

  "How come you have to go?"

  The newspaper had quit rustling. Aware of Adam listening, Lynn said, "We live in Otter Beach. If I’m not there, who will open the bookstore?"

  "Can’t we stay longer, Mommy?" Shelly asked from her other side.

  Lynn let the book slide to the floor and put her other arm around her daughter. "You know we can’t, sweetie."

  "But why?" Shelly pleaded.

  “These are just visits. Rose and Adam will be coming to see us soon. Maybe we can all make a sand castle again. Remember the first time?"

  "Can we go tomorrow, Daddy?" Rose begged.

  Adam lowered the Oregonian. "No, Rosebud, we can’t. You know I have to work. Grown-ups have responsibilities."

  She cried passionately, "I hate ’sponsibil...bil..."

  "Let’s enjoy the visit while we can," he suggested. "We have fun when Lynn and Shelly come to stay. Don’t spoil it by being sad. The boy in the story Lynn just read to you wasn’t always sad when he was with his uncle, even though he knew he’d have to say goodbye, was he?"

  She pouted, teardrops trembling on her lashes. "No," she finally whispered, tremulously.

  The telephone rang and Adam groaned.

  Picking it up, he said, "Yeah? Oh, Mom. Hi, how are you?" After a moment, he nodded. "I’ll put Rose on for a second."

  He crossed the room and handed Rose the cordless phone. "Say hi to Grandma McCloskey."

  Not his mother, then, but Jennifer’s.

  Rose whispered a shy hello. After a moment she said, "I have a friend here. We’re listening to stories."

  Adam’s hand shot out. "Okay, say bye now."

  "Daddy says I gotta go. Bye," she managed to say, before he whipped the phone out of her hand.

  Covering the mouthpiece, he said, "I’ll go talk out in the kitchen."

  "My grandma calls, too," Shelly told her friend. "She’s comin’ to see us."

  “At Christmas," Lynn agreed. "In fact, she’ll be here in only seven days."

  "My grandma comes at Christmas, too. She says she’s gonna bring lots of presents." Rose sounded satisfied if not excited.

  "My grandma, too!"

  From the kitchen, Adam’s voice rose in an angry rumble. "What are you saying? Are you threatening me?"

  To cover it, Lynn said brightly, "I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we take the books up and read some more stories in Rose’s bed?"

  "Okeydoke," Shelly said, hopping up with alacrity.

  "But maybe Daddy wanted to listen," Rose said more doub
tfully.

  Lynn wrinkled her nose. "It sounds like your daddy is talking to someone else now. He’s kind of mad, huh? Does business make him that way? He can come upstairs when he’s done."

  He did appear eventually, after ten or twelve more books. Both girls were getting sleepy, and when Lynn saw him in the doorway she set down the book. "Bedtime."

  "Read another one!" Shelly protested, but the words slurred.

  "Dream a story," Lynn murmured. "About an ugly princess and..."

  "No, a beautiful one," Shelly interrupted. "’Cuz I’m beautiful, aren’t I?"

  Rose took her thumb from her mouth. "Me, too."

  "You’re both beautiful." She kissed them and stood up, passing Adam mid-room.

  She went downstairs without pausing, leaving Adam to tuck their daughters in. Turnabout, she thought, even as she missed the quiet ritual of switching on the night-light, smoothing the sheet over the blankets, breathing in the sleepy essence of two small girls as she touched her lips to smooth foreheads. She’d had all evening. From the rage she’d heard in his voice and the tension in the set of his shoulders, he needed any comfort they could give him.

  They’d had dinner earlier with Rose and Shelly, but she poured two cups of coffee and helped herself to a second, sinful slice of lemon meringue pie from the bakery. When Adam came into the kitchen, she waved the knife at the pie. "Would you like a piece, too?"

  "What? Oh. No."

  She put the pie in the refrigerator. He was leaning against the island, frowning into space.

  "Is something wrong?" Lynn asked.

  His glower turned her way. "Wrong?"

  "You were...um, yelling."

  His eyes seemed to clear as if he were noticing her for the first time. "Oh, no. Could you hear everything?"

  "Just something about a threat. I don’t think the girls did."

  His head bowed suddenly and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was my mother-in-law. As you probably gathered. They figured out that Shelly must be visiting, and they wanted to come over. If not tonight, tomorrow."

  "You said no."

  Adam swore. "They’d swarm over her like yellow jackets on jam. I can’t make them understand why we should move slowly. They only know one thing—they want their granddaughter. Jenny is gone, and Shelly is all they have left, Angela keeps saying. She’s like a broken record." He breathed out heavily.

  Pie and coffee forgotten, apprehension rising, Lynn asked, "What did you mean about her threatening?"

  His gaze met hers, and she read in it both apology and anger. "She says they’re considering filing for a court order giving them visitation rights if not custody."

  "Custody?" Lynn sagged back a step.

  "They wouldn’t get it." His face looked haggard, but his voice was strong. "We’re the parents. I’m behind you. Their lawyer will tell them to forget it."

  "But they might get visitation."

  "I don’t know." He hammered his fist on the tile countertop. "I can’t believe them!"

  Perhaps the time was coming, Lynn thought, when they would have to tell Rose and Shelly the truth. Would it really be so hurtful now? If they were assured that nothing would change? "I understand how they must feel. It’s not so different than what we’ve both gone through."

  "They’re a complication we don’t need."

  "No." Lynn managed a smile of sorts. "I poured you some coffee."

  She took her own to the table in the nook, and after a moment Adam followed her. This was only the third night she’d spent in this house, and yet these few minutes after the girls had gone to bed already felt familiar. They couldn’t talk in front of Rose and Shelly. This was their time.

  They sat in silence for a moment, Lynn making a production of stirring sugar into her coffee. Then unexpectedly, Adam said, "I wish you weren’t going tomorrow, too."

  She quashed a momentary thrill. He didn’t mean her, he meant Shelly. "These visits have been nice, haven’t they?"

  "You’re good with them."

  She sneaked a look. The lines still between his brows, he was staring down into his coffee as if waiting for pictures of the future to form.

  "Thank you."

  "You ever considered opening a bookstore in Portland?"

  "And competing with Powell’s?" The famous bookstore filled a whole city block. "I don’t think so."

  He frowned at her. "If you lived closer, we could see our daughters more often."

  "You could move to Otter Beach."

  "You know that’s impossible," Adam said impatiently.

  What was this all about? "I have an established business," she said reasonably. "Moving wouldn’t be any easier for me."

  "What if you could find a bookstore for sale over here? Or a good location to start one up?"

  She set down her fork. "You’re serious."

  "Yes." He took a swallow of coffee. "Aren’t you getting tired of these teary goodbyes, too?"

  "Of course I am, but..."

  "But what?" He leaned forward, his expression persuasive. "Think about it. Will you do that?"

  "Do you have any idea how tough it was to start up a small business?"

  Adam opened his mouth, but she overrode him.

  "Without my parents’ help, Shelly and I would have starved," Lynn said fiercely. "Ninety percent of small businesses don’t make it. I did. And you want me to throw that away. Start all over. It’s just not that easy!"

  He wasn’t ready to give up yet, she could see. He still leaned forward, intent on his perfect plan. "What if you found a going concern that’s for sale? Portland has plenty of suburbs that support bookstores."

  "Sure it does. Some of those stores are a lot bigger than mine. I couldn’t afford them, even assuming I could conveniently find a buyer for my store at the snap of my fingers. Others...well, independents are being driven out of business by the hundreds. Thousands. On-line booksellers like Amazon.com are taking a lot of business. That’s bad enough, but as you pointed out yourself, in a metropolitan area like this I’d have to compete for what’s left with big-name bookstores like Barnes & Noble.” She pushed away her half-eaten pie, her appetite gone. "Take a look. Either the independents are big enough to compete, and are therefore out of my league, or they’re on the verge of bankruptcy. Trust me."

  Adam sat back, his dark eyes not wavering from her face. After a moment, he said, "You could get a job."

  "Sure I could. Working for someone else. Hey, maybe if I was lucky Powell’s would hire me to be a manager at one of their smaller branches! That would be a thrill after owning my own store."

  His mouth twisted. "All right. You’ve convinced me. Bad idea."

  "I am tired of saying goodbye. It’ll get worse once Rose knows I’m really Mommy and Shelly thinks of you as Daddy. But what can we do?" Now she was pleading with him. "We have responsibilities."

  "Sure we do," Adam said flatly. "One of mine is going to be pacifying Jennifer’s parents, convincing them to be patient."

  She’d almost forgotten. "If you talked to them first, wouldn’t they be satisfied just meeting Shelly? For now?"

  He closed his eyes wearily. "If only she didn’t look so much like Jenny."

  "I’m sorry." She bit her lip. "I forget."

  A razor edge of pain showed in his brown eyes. "I don’t."

  Had his wife known how much she was loved? Once upon a time, Lynn had fooled herself into believing she and Brian were in love, but even then she had known they weren’t soul mates, meant for each other through the centuries. But he was handsome, and he wanted to be with her, and he made her laugh. Love was supposed to grow, wasn’t it? The grandest kind, she had always believed, was in the quiet clasp of gnarled hands that had known each other’s touch for sixty years or more. Why couldn’t she and Brian have that, if they worked at it?

  Now she knew better. Perhaps the grandest love was the kind ripened by half a century or more together, but people couldn’t endure each other that long, didn’t care enough to hold
on through hard times, if what they started with wasn’t more heartfelt than "he wanted to be with me" and "he was handsome."

  Adam, she guessed, had been lucky enough to know real love.

  "You still miss her." Lynn touched the back of his hand.

  "When I let myself."

  His hand turned over, slowly, giving her time to withdraw. She didn’t. He gripped her hand gently, his so much larger, browner. Lynn lifted her gaze to see that he, too, was studying their hands.

  "Tell me about your husband," Adam said unexpectedly. "Why did he think you’d been unfaithful?"

  A sting of hurt cured her of any drift toward a romantic mood. She tried to yank her hand back, but he held on.

  "I know you weren’t," he said. "Even I can see that you’re not the kind of woman who’d lie to her husband. So why couldn’t he?"

  You’re not the kind of woman who would lie. A barrier of wariness inside her sagged and finally collapsed. Was it possible that her newfound trust was a two-way street? That they really could be friends?

  "He never completely trusted me." Her fingers curled into a fist and Adam let her go. She tucked her hand on her lap, under the table. It seemed to tingle, as if he were still touching her. "Brian would accuse me of not loving him." She made a face. "I’d feel so guilty. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. My mother and I love each other, but we’re not...not physically demonstrative. You know?"

  Adam nodded.

  "Maybe that was it, I’d think, and I’d force myself to hug and kiss even when it embarrassed me in public. But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. He’d come into the bookstore where I worked, and be mad because I was laughing with some customer. He’d decide we hadn’t really been talking about books, and accuse me of sneaking around behind his back. It was a nightmare."

  "Was he abusive?" Adam asked quietly, but with a flat, dangerous note in his voice.

  "No. Oh, no." She sneaked a look at his face, set in hard lines. Her nails bit into her palms. "Brian’s not that bad a guy. I just...lacked whatever it took to make him feel secure."

  "You lacked?" Adam growled in the back of his throat. "Seems to me, he’s the one with the problem."

  "I tried to tell myself that. Our marriage got harder and harder, the more I had to think constantly about what I was really feeling and how he’d interpret the way I was acting. Only, then one day I realized—" here was the hard part "—he was right. I didn’t really love him. Not heart and soul. The way he claimed to love me." Lynn shrugged with difficulty, the next words hurting her throat. "I shouldn’t have married him. I remember getting cold feet the night before the wedding, but how could I tell him I’d made a mistake then? And my friends all laughed and said everyone chickens out at the last minute, so I decided it was normal. But I think I’d been pretending from the very beginning. He’d say, ‘I can’t live without you,’ and I’d tell him the same, but because he expected me to, not because I had any understanding of what that meant. Until I had Shelly, I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to fear losing the one person in the world who was essential to me." Lynn met Adam’s gaze again in appeal. "I should have felt that way about him, too, shouldn’t I?"