Lisa smiled at him, a supremely confident smile. "It'll work out fine. You'll see."
Jay considered Lisa's proposal for a moment, then nodded decisively. "All right, it's settled. Shall we talk to Connie?"
"I'll get her," Sister Maria replied. She stood up and started toward the door but halted for a moment in front of Lisa.
"You see, I was right about you. God bless you, Lisa." She smiled and continued out the door, and Jay leaned over and kissed Lisa's cheek.
It wasn't all he'd wanted to do. He'd wanted to thank her for cherishing someone who was precious to him. He'd wanted to sweep her into his arms and tell her how her compassion and kindness had touched him.
He'd wanted to tell her he loved her.
* * *
When the tired little group comprised of Jay, Lisa and Connie arrived at Lisa's house that night, all the windows except the one in the living room were dark. Connie hung back when they reached Lisa's front door, but Lisa put her arm around her and urged her forward.
"Come on in," she said. "I'll introduce you to Adele and show you your room."
Adele was sitting in front of the TV, but she didn't look around. "Did you have a good time?" she asked.
"Yes," Lisa said smoothly, drawing Connie into the circle of light from the table lamp. "I'd like you to meet Connie," she continued. "She's going to live with us for a while." Connie blinked in the bright light.
"Live with us?" Adele said blankly, looking Connie up and down in disbelief.
Lisa telegraphed silently with her eyes, hoping Adele would get the message. Don't make a big deal out of this, she pleaded.
Jay stepped neatly into the breach. "Connie's here for a visit, Adele. I'll explain while Lisa shows Connie her room," he said. He planted himself on the couch across from Adele, making it clear that he wasn't going away.
"This way, Connie," Lisa said briskly, throwing Jay a grateful glance as she led the way into Adele's wing of the house. As she swung open the door to the guest room, she heard Jay say to Adele, "Mind if I turn the TV sound off for a minute?"
"This is where you'll sleep while you're here," Lisa said to Connie. She turned on the lamp beside the bed.
Connie drew in her breath and looked uncertainly up at Lisa. "Come on in," Lisa urged.
Connie's shoes left imprints in the thick rose-colored carpet. Her eyes were wide as she took in the flowered chintz bedspread and matching dust ruffle, the quilted cornice with the sheer white draperies below and the skirted dressing table.
"My room?" she asked unbelievingly.
"For as long as you live here," Lisa assured her. She pulled down the shade at the window before opening the closet door.
"You may hang your clothes in the closet and put your things in any of the dresser drawers. If you want to use the bathroom, it's in there," she told Connie, nodding toward a door.
"A bathroom just for me?" Connie asked, her voice trembling.
"You'll share it with Adele. The bathroom joins her room with yours. Here, I'll show you," she said, swinging the door open and turning on the light.
"Oh," Connie said. "A mirror with lights all around. And a pretty shower curtain. Ohhh."
"I'd better go see how Adele and Jay are getting along. Come out when you've put away your clothes and we'll see if there's something good to eat in the kitchen." She smiled at Connie and left to rejoin Adele and Jay.
Adele still looked stunned. "What in the world are we going to do with a child?" she asked when Lisa sat down beside Jay.
"Love her," Lisa said firmly.
Adele's lower lip quivered, and she looked as though she were holding back tears. "A child makes a lot of work. There will be clothes to wash, and she'll make noise, and she won't like to eat the things we do. Lisa, you have no idea how this is going to change our lives."
"Adele," Lisa said patiently, "Sister Maria is going to talk to Connie's father as soon as possible, so this arrangement isn't permanent. And besides," she added as convincingly as she could, "Connie's wonderful. You'll like her."
"I'm not so sure of that," Adele said gruffly. She stuffed her knitting into its bag. "I'm going to bed. That child had better not rattle around in the bathroom too early in the morning. You know how I hate to be awakened before seven." She stood and stalked down the hall. In a moment they heard her bedroom door close sharply.
Lisa sank back against the pillows of the couch. She looked at Jay. "I did my best," she said.
"It's hard to get through to her, isn't it? All the time I was talking I could tell that she was only thinking of herself and how she was going to be affected. I don't think she even once thought about how tough it is for Connie."
"Maybe Adele will loosen up," Lisa said without much hope.
"I can flatter and wheedle and use my charm to get around her, but apparently not when Adele sees herself as the victim of a plot to take away her privacy, wake her up too early in the morning and—what was it?—oh, rattle around in the bathroom," Jay said.
Lisa relaxed, and he took her hand. "I was going to ask you out tonight, but I guess there's not much chance of that, huh?"
"I have to baby-sit," Lisa said primly.
"When I was in high school I used to walk to the house where my girlfriend baby-sat, and after the babies were in bed we used to smooch on the couch. Like this," he said, and he bent his head to nuzzle the hollow of her throat.
She pulled back, smothering a laugh. "I'm afraid it's against the rules here," she said.
Jay looked downcast for a moment. "Whose rules are these? Adele's? Yours?"
"Mine, mostly. I don't want Connie or Adele to know that we're—we're—" She searched for the right expression, couldn't find it and settled for a helpless little shrug. At the same time she edged over the space of one couch cushion and pulled a throw pillow into her lap for a barricade.
"That we're—um, involved," Jay supplied. He pulled the cushion out of her lap and lobbed it across the room. It was round, and it rolled to a stop in a corner. Then he captured one of her hands in his and leaned across her lap for a long kiss.
"You shouldn't have done that," Lisa said afterward, but she was smiling when she said it.
"I happen to like kissing you," Jay said in a stage whisper.
"Oh," she replied, darting a cagey look at him from under her eyelashes, "I didn't mean that you shouldn't have kissed me. I meant that you shouldn't have thrown the cushion."
"Isn't it called a throw pillow? Isn't that what they're for?" he asked innocently.
"You're impossible," she told him. She was still smiling at him when Connie appeared.
"I love my room, Lisa," Connie said.
"I'm glad you like it." Lisa stood up. "I recall some frozen yogurt bars hiding deep in the freezer. Let's see if I can rustle them up."
"Am I invited, too?" Jay asked.
"Of course," she told him, reaching down and pulling him up from the couch.
They sat around the small kitchen table and ate the yogurt bars. When Connie began to yawn, Jay tossed their napkins and paper wrappers into the garbage.
"Time for me to be going home," he said. "I can measure time by the size of the yawns."
"Oh, don't go," Connie said, clinging to his hand.
"Sorry, doodlebug, I have to."
Lisa and Connie walked him to the front door, where he placed both hands on Connie's slim shoulders and said, "Don't worry about anything, Connie. Lisa will take good care of you, and I'll see you tomorrow at school."
"Okay," Connie said. She managed a smile and then yawned another enormous yawn, affording them a wide-angle view of her tonsils.
"Would you mind if I said goodbye to Lisa outside?" Jay asked Connie.
"Oh, you can kiss each other if you want. I've seen people kiss each other before," Connie said cheerfully.
Lisa and Jay exchanged startled glances.
"Just to make it easier for you, I'll go get ready for bed," Connie told them.
"I'll come in to say good-n
ight in a few minutes," Lisa called after her as she'd disappeared down the hall. She could have sworn that Connie winked at her.
"Take your time. I know how to get ready for bed by myself. I'm twelve years old now," Connie called back.
"Thank goodness we've finally gotten permission," Jay said, taking Lisa's hand.
She laughed and leaned her head briefly on his shoulder. After they'd stepped outside, the door swung closed behind them, and hand in hand they walked slowly toward Jay's car. When they were a decent distance from the house, Jay pulled her away from the streamers of light from the windows and into the shadows of the surrounding trees, gathering her hungrily into his arms.
"I can't think of any way to tell you how terrific I think you are," he said, keeping his voice low. "What you did today was so kind." The shrubbery sang in his ears; the air was filled with the sound of the ever-present crickets, the chirping of the tree frogs, the hoot of an owl.
"Don't say anything," he said. "Just kiss me."
She murmured, "I can't reach," and he lowered his head. Her hands fluttered briefly against his chest, then curved around his shoulders.
She felt so soft against him, and yet he knew how strong she was inside. Strong enough to take responsibility for a child who wasn't hers and soft enough to melt in his arms when he kissed her. Or was she kissing him? Her tongue found his and her lips were sweet yet greedy, pliant yet insatiable. Quite simply, he could never get enough of them.
His self-control stretched to the limit. He pulled her hips against him, wanting her and knowing that there was no way, not here, not now. He forced himself to deliberately place distance between them and stepped backward, catching her by the hands.
"The way you kiss isn't the only reason I think you're wonderful," he told her shakily, "but it sure helps."
They were startled by a clatter from the direction of the garage. He jumped away, and Lisa dissolved in giggles. Over her shoulder he saw that the garbage can alongside the garage lay on its side and a furry gray shape was scuttling away into the woods.
"What's that?" he asked.
"It's only Pudge," she said. She was still giggling, but not so hard.
"Pudge?"
"Pudge the possum," she said. "Adele would like to get rid of him once and for all, but I won't let her."
Jay saw that bits and pieces of garbage were strewn on the grass—a bread wrapper, a tuna can, an empty orange-juice carton.
"What is he, a pet?"
Lisa shook her head. "Not quite. He's wild and I've often put food out for him, but when I don't, he considers our garbage can his own personal cafeteria."
"I think I agree with Adele," Jay said with conviction.
"Why shouldn't Pudge have what we don't want? It can't be easy to scrounge a living from these woods."
She was serious; he couldn't believe it.
He gestured at the garbage. "He makes a mess, that's why."
"Not so much. Anyway, I'm the one who cleans it up, and I don't mind," Lisa said. "I'd better go. It looks like I'm on call for tucking-in duty. Good night, Jay."
"Not so fast," he said, drawing her close, but she soon disengaged herself.
"See you tomorrow," she whispered. As she was hurrying away, he called after her, "Hey, what about the garbage can?"
"I'll pick everything up in a few minutes," she called back, and then she went in the house and closed the door.
He stood for a few moments thinking things over. Then, shaking his head in amazement, he slowly gathered the scattered garbage, put it securely in the can, and went and got in his car. He sat there staring at her house; he couldn't believe that anyone would cheerfully and willingly pick up garbage so that a wild possum could cadge a meal.
As he drove back toward town, he reflected that for the first time in his life, he had found a woman to whom he felt like committing himself heart, soul, mind and body. How was he going to get through the whole week without making love to her?
* * *
Inside Lisa paused for a moment to collect herself, then went to Connie's room. Connie was lying on her side in bed, her head pillowed on her hands.
"Just wanted to wish you sweet dreams," Lisa said.
"Thank you, Lisa," Connie said sleepily. "And thanks for letting me come here." She looked so small in the big double bed that Lisa couldn't help tenderly smoothing Connie's hair back from her face.
"I'm glad you're here. Tomorrow there's school, so we'll leave for Yahola at eight o'clock. Do you want me to set the alarm clock?"
Connie nodded, her eyelids heavy.
"Here, I'll show you how it works so you can do it tomorrow night," Lisa said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
After Lisa put the clock back on the table, Connie said, "You know, I don't think I'm as bad as Nina said I am." Her eyes implored Lisa with heartbreaking intensity.
"You're a sweet girl, and we're going to have a lot of fun together," Lisa said encouragingly. "You can teach me how to cook rice and beans the way you like it. And I can show you how to bake granola brownies."
"Mmm," Connie said, thinking it over. "That sounds like fun. Can we go out in the canoe sometime? And maybe I could learn to swim in the river?" She looked hopeful.
"Of course you can. Now why don't you go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."
"Would you—would you mind if I hugged you, Lisa? My mother always used to hug me. I never had a hug at bedtime after she left me with Nina."
Lisa put her arms around Connie and held her close. Her heart ached for the child.
"At my house you can have a hug whenever you need one," she assured Connie as she stood up and turned out the light.
"I'm glad," Connie said in a small voice, and Lisa went out and softly shut the door behind her.
For a moment Lisa stood in front of Adele's closed door, wondering if she should knock. But if Adele was already asleep, she would only be stirring up a hornet's nest, and Lisa already felt emotionally strung out after the unsettling events of the day.
Slowly she turned away. She moved quietly around the house, folding the Sunday newspaper, turning off the muted television set, and retrieving the pillow from the corner where Jay had thrown it. She went out through the door into the kitchen and on into the garage. To her surprise, the garbage can was in its place, its lid was on tight and the garbage had been picked up.
Jay, she thought in surprise. Jay did that for me.
She went back inside, where Jay's rosebud stood in its vase on the kitchen counter. She touched a fingertip to one pink petal. Jay had only given it to her this morning, and yet it seemed like such a long time ago.
Her life had changed so much in the past few weeks; today everything seemed to be on fast-forward. But she felt optimistic about the future, which seemed about to unfold like the petals of a flower.
Chapter 9
As he drove home that night, Jay Quillian, the confirmed bachelor, decided that the impossible had happened. He had begun to imagine being with Lisa for the rest of his life.
He could see it all in his mind. They could live in his town house, go to the beach on weekends, make love every night and most mornings, as well, and they could have children. They were both so comfortable with kids.
What a dream! He could play it out in all its enthralling detail in his head; he could see it. And as soon as it became real to him, he began to wonder if it was really possible. With other women, he'd never been able to get past the insurmountable problems.
Jay would never give up his work at the mission, not for any relationship, and most women couldn't comprehend that kind of dedication. But now he was sure that Lisa in all her benevolence could accept his commitment, and that in itself made her special.
Any woman who could provide a home for an older woman who had no home of her own, who didn't mind possums tipping over her garbage can because they were hungry and who could open her house to a kid with no place to go was the kind of woman he'd been looking for all his life. But it was
the way she had taken Connie to her heart that had been the deciding factor, because Jay knew more about being a throwaway kid than he let on.
When he thought back to his early years of growing up in West Palm Beach, the days seemed awash in sunshine. His life had been happy. Then one day when he was ten his parents suddenly announced that they were divorcing, and his father had moved immediately to Baltimore. His mother found a boyfriend right away.
That year Jay made the rounds of his relatives' houses, staying with them for nights at a time when his mother was out of town. She liked to accompany her male friends when they traveled on business, and she liked to go to parties.
Sometimes the welcome wore out at his aunts' houses or at his mother's friends' places, and he'd sneak back into the closed-up house where he and his mother lived when she was in town and eat whatever he could scrounge, fending for himself as best he could. Sometimes there wasn't much food, and often he didn't have money to buy more.
After he became a teenager, life was easier. By that time his mother thought it was safe to leave him at home by himself when she left town. Most of the time he had enough food, especially after he got a part-time job washing cars at a car lot up the street. Later he bought a fast car with his earnings, and after that he was mobile.
He was a popular kid, a football player and an honor student. Girls liked him, and the guys enjoyed hanging out at his house. There they found the freedom that they didn't have at their own homes, and it was easy to pick up a few six-packs of beer as they passed an obliging convenience store on the way over.
Jay and his buddies spent a lot of hours whiling away their time, playing poker, experimenting with drinking games that they learned from a friend's older brother who was a junior in college, and anticipating what fun it was going to be when they all got to the University of Florida themselves.
Jay, who was known as Jamie at the time, almost didn't make it.
He could hardly remember the details of that day when his life had crashed down around him because it was all a blur. He and his football buddies had been drinking all day in celebration of their graduation, and late in the afternoon his friends accepted his high-spirited offer to go buy more beer when they ran out. He barely remembered the slick pavement, the yellow caution light switching to red, the squeal of brakes and then the rain on his face after they pulled him out of his smashed car. He never even saw the girl.
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