For the Girls' Sake

chapter TWELVE

EVERY TIME SHE HEARD a car engine, Lynn went to the kitchen window. No Adam.

For the first time, she’d left Shelly with Adam and Rose, coming home to open the bookstore all by herself. The quiet drive had been an unexpected pleasure. She was so rarely alone to let her thoughts drift aimlessly, to listen to Bizet’s Carmen instead of Sesame Street songs. But that was two days and a night ago. Now she missed her family terribly.

She glanced at the clock for the twentieth time. Dark had come hours ago. Front and back porch lights were beacons in the night—the strong beam of a lighthouse calling them home, Lynn thought fancifully.

Thursday evening she’d read a murder mystery, not had dinner until nine o’clock and then eaten an entire pint of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, feeling decadent the whole time. Tonight she used her energy and anxiety to clean. Floors and sinks shone, and she’d moved every piece of furniture so that not even one dust bunny escaped her.

At eight-thirty, half an hour after his usual time, she heard the deep, throaty murmur of Adam’s Lexus and the crunch of gravel under the tires.

With a rush of pleasure, Lynn dropped a handful of forks—she’d been rearranging the silverware drawer—and hurried to the door. Footsteps clattered on the outside stairs. Little-girl voices called, "Mommy! We’re home!"

Opening the door, Lynn scooped to snatch first Shelly, then Rose up into her arms for huge hugs. They felt so solid, smelled so sweet, and she didn’t know how she had been able to endure two days without them.

Below, the car door slammed again in the darkness, and Adam came into the circle of porch light and started up the rickety staircase, burdened by a duffel bag and...was that a hula hoop? She hadn’t seen one in years.

Shelly didn’t like the fact that Mommy’s attention had wandered for even a moment. Tugging on Lynn’s hand, she did a little dance. "Mommy, I went to school with Rose! We learned to write letters! Didn’t we, Rose? And how to count in...well, the way somebody else talks. I don’t remember who. You wanna hear me? Uno, dos, tres,” she enunciated with earnest care. "Rose knows how, too. Don’t you, Rose?"

"Course I do," Rose declared with the air of a big kid. "Uno, dos, tres. See? And Teacher said I know my colors. My shirt is orange. Isn’t it, Mommy?"

"Mine is purple," Shelly said importantly. "I know my colors, too, Mommy."

"I know you do, sweetie. And very well, too."

The hula hoop slung over Adam’s shoulder rolled off and bounced down the stairs. He mumbled something not meant for three-year-old ears, dropped the duffel bag on the landing and chased after the neon-green plastic hoop.

The girls turned to watch, giggling in merriment. "Grandma gave us one a’ those," Shelly explained. "A hoo...hoo..." Her lips pursed in a perfect circle. "Hoo..."

"Hula hoop," Lynn supplied.

Grinning ruefully, Adam started back up the stairs.

"Hoo-hoop. She said she played with one when she was a girl. She wriggled. Like this." Shelly swiveled her hips so hard she fell down laughing.

Rose, of course, had to demonstrate and tumble theatrically amid more giggles.

"Grandma must have looked very funny," Lynn said, trying to imagine the petite, elegant woman waggling her hips like a Hawaiian dancer. Now, that she would have liked to see.

A small cloud stilled Shelly’s laughter. "I can’t make the hoo-hoop work."

"Daddy says we don’t got no hips," Rose agreed.

"Have any," Lynn corrected automatically.

Daddy rolled the hula hoop into the house. "Here it stays," he said firmly.

Losing interest in it and Mom, Shelly popped to her feet. "Let’s go play," she commanded.

"Okay," Rose said happily.

They raced down the hall, rattling pictures on the wall, and flung open the door to their bedroom.

Lynn frowned, a new worry niggling. "I hope Rose doesn’t get too used to going along with Shelly. Does it seem to you as if..."

Flowers appeared under her nose. "Happy anniversary," Adam said huskily.

Her wondering eyes took in roses and huge fragrant lilies and a scattering of tiny white bridal wreath. She breathed in the glorious scent and then looked up in astonishment at her husband’s face. "Anniversary?"

"One month," he said gravely. "Today."

The paper cone crackled as she took the bouquet from him and cradled it. "Thank you." She sounded—and felt—absurdly shy.

"A kiss might be appropriate." He wasn’t smiling, to suggest that he was kidding; he just stood there squarely less than a foot away and waited.

Did he mean it? Heat blossomed in her cheeks and her pulse sprinted. She’d known this was coming. She’d seen in his eyes that he was thinking about her that way. As a woman. She wanted him to. She’d just had no idea in the world how to hint that she wouldn’t mind if he did kiss her.

But did he have to leave it up to her?

Maybe he was trying to give her an out, if she really detested the idea. He was being a gentleman.

As stuffily as Miss Manners, Lynn admitted, "A kiss would be one polite way to thank you."

"Then?"

Taking a breath and hugging the flowers to her breast, she rose on tiptoe to give him a quick peck.

It didn’t work that way. He bent his head to meet her halfway. Their mouths touched and a shiver skidded down her spine. Somehow he came to be gripping her upper arms. The heavy scent of lilies rose from between them, thickening the air. His lips teased hers apart, then hardened. She heard a groan and the kiss deepened, but...

“Mommy!" Feet thundered down the short hall behind her.

Lynn jerked away, her heart hammering and her face so hot it must be the color of a lobster. "Yes? What is it?"

"Mommy, where’s flower blankie?" Shelly asked with a hint of anxiety.

The faded, warn flannel crib blanket was rarely far from Shelly.

Her mind cloudy, Lynn couldn’t look at Adam. "Did you take it to Adam’s house?"

Shelly’s brown eyes widened and her mouth formed an O. "I forgot it," she whispered, and then her face scrunched miserably as tears formed. "I want my flower blankie!" she wailed.

Lynn crouched to hug her. "It’s not in the bag?"

"This is all clothes," Adam said. "I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have checked."

"You know, your blanket is fine in your bedroom at Adam’s house. It’ll be waiting for you Sunday night."

"I want it now!" Shelly screamed. "Daddy can go get my blankie."

"Honey, it would take him all night." Lynn knew very well that reason wouldn’t forestall what was coming. But she had to try, didn’t she? "You can do without it for three days."

Sobbing, the three-year-old flung herself onto the floor and drummed her heels. Lynn sighed, remembering last night’s peace and quiet. Ah, well. She was glad Shelly was home, even if she was screaming and turning purple.

Rose never threw temper tantrums. She stood now halfway down the hall, her thumb in her mouth and her face a study in worry and perplexity.

It took Lynn half an hour to calm her distraught daughter. Adam and Rose settled in as Shelly sobbed, hiccuped, and finally burrowed in her mother’s arms for a few minutes of comfort and resignation.

"Do you feel better now?" Lynn asked. They were alone in the living room, cuddled in the depths of the new sofa.

Shelly nodded against her breast.

"Do you want to get ready for bed now?"

A sniff, and Shelly’s head bumped Lynn’s chest as she nodded again.

"Okay. Up we go."

On the way down the hall Lynn caught a glimpse of Adam and Rose sitting at the kitchen table sipping from mugs of cocoa with marshmallows floating atop. Fortunately, Shelly didn’t see.

Teeth brushed, in her nightgown, Shelly finally remembered that she shouldn’t be the only one who had to go to bed. "Where’s Rose?" she demanded.

"She’ll be along in a few minutes." Lynn ran the brush through her small daughter’s thick mink-brown hair, so unlike her own. "I bet she took a longer nap than you did today, huh?"

"She slept on the way. I wasn’t sleepy."

"I think she’ll be ready for bed pretty soon. Now, let’s tuck you in." She plopped Shelly down on the bed and kissed her. "I missed you, punkin."

Shelly’s eyes watered again. "I missed you, too. I wanted you to kiss me g’night. Only you weren’t there," she accused.

"No, but your daddy was." Lynn kissed the snub nose. "And it sounds as if you mostly had fun staying with Rose and Daddy."

They chatted about preschool, and Lynn felt an easing inside of some tension she hardly knew had been there. The possibility of losing Shelly terrified her still. What if she hadn’t been missed at all?

At Shelly’s sleepy request Lynn left on the lamp beside the bed and slipped quietly out. In the kitchen, Adam smiled at her.

"Want some cocoa?"

Her gaze shied away from his. She hadn’t yet let herself think about what had happened, but she’d have to soon. It changed everything. Unless he’d hated it, he would want to kiss her again.

She wanted him to.

"Please." Another blush fired her cheeks at the double meaning.

A glint in Adam’s eyes told her he’d guessed at some of her thoughts, or at least that the kiss was in the forefront of his.

"You c’n have a marshmallow, too, if you want," Rose told her generously.

"Thank you. I’d like one."

"How come Shelly cried like that?"

"I think she was tired," Lynn explained. "Have you ever felt really sad, mostly because you were tired?"

Rose nodded, but doubtfully.

The kettle sang, and a moment later Adam’s big hand set the mug of cocoa in front of her at the kitchen table.

"Thank you." Lynn sent a smile his way without quite meeting his eyes.

“I like cocoa." Rose sounded quietly satisfied. Perhaps she also liked having Mommy and Daddy all to herself. Neither girl was used to sharing. It was a wonder they got along so beautifully.

Lynn suggested a game, which they played. Then she ran a bath for Rose and stayed with her. Braiding her hair took time.

But bedtime couldn’t be put off forever. Adam did the honors and tucked Rose in. Lynn washed mugs and wiped the table and arranged the flowers more carefully in the stoneware jar Adam had put them in. They were glorious, too fancy for anything but crystal, she thought, tilting her head, but she would enjoy them anyway.

Was it possible she and Adam had been married for a month already?

Every nerve strained for the sound of his footsteps in the hall. He would come looking for her, she knew. To take up where they’d left off?

Or would he give her breathing space by asking how business had been for her, by telling her what the market had done this week, how Shelly had liked staying over with Rose?

She felt jumpy. Where was he?

"Shelly’s sound asleep."

Lynn gasped and whirled. He blocked the kitchen doorway, his expression inscrutable.

"You scared me!"

"I’m sorry." He didn’t sound sorry, but rather...pleased. As if he was glad she’d been affected enough to be jumpy. "What were you thinking about?"

"I...the flowers are gorgeous."

"I’m glad you like them." He strolled toward her.

Her back to the kitchen counter, Lynn had nowhere to go. Did she want to flee? All she had to do was say, You’re crowding me. I need time. Was he? Did she? It was hard to think with her heartbeats pounding in her ears and her knees wanting to buckle.

He stopped inches away. Lynn swallowed and stared fixedly at the buttons on his white shirt. The tie that he must have worn today was long gone, probably slung over the seat of the Lexus along with the suit jacket. He was dauntingly handsome in charcoal slacks and a dress shirt, his face dark and saturnine in contrast to the white. Several of the top buttons were undone, exposing a tanned throat. All she had to do was reach out to touch him.

"I enjoyed kissing you." His voice was a soft rumble.

Lynn sneaked a peak upward, expecting to see the gleam in his eyes, but a frown was gathering on his brows. He wasn’t sure of her, she realized suddenly. Did he share her same apprehensions? The possibility stunned her. He was a confident, handsome, wealthy man.

Stuck with her by circumstances. He probably didn’t know what to make of her. She wasn’t his usual kind of woman.

She was nothing like his beautiful, charming wife, Lynn thought, with a sinking feeling.

Okay, she argued with herself, maybe she wasn’t anything like his Jennifer, but he’d kissed her. He wanted to be with her. He seemed to like her. That was enough to build on, wasn’t it?

“I enjoyed it, too," she admitted shyly, eyes still downcast. "I mean, the kiss."

"Good." He reached for her hand and placed it on his chest.

Slowly she splayed her fingers, flattening her palm. Wonderingly, she felt his heart beat, as hard and fast as hers. The knowledge that he was as affected by her as she was by him allowed her to look up.

Muttering something she couldn’t make out, Adam bent his head and kissed her again. The first kiss had been the kind a man might give a woman on her doorstep before he said good-night. This one was more urgent. He drank in her breath, his thumb stroking her cheek. His fingers dove into her hair and cupped the back of her head.

I’m your husband, he said without words.

It scared her, but the promise enticed her. We’re husband and wife. We have children and a life together. She uttered a soft sigh and slipped her arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe so that she could be closer to him, giving him her answer.

He strung kisses across her cheek, nibbled at her earlobe, stroked her neck. When he lifted his head, she saw a light in his eyes.

"I’ve wanted to touch your hair since that day at the hospital. I’ve been dying to kiss your freckles." He brushed her nose with his lips. "To hear you say my name as if you mean it."

"Adam," she whispered.

"Yes." His eyes softened. "Like that."

She let her head fall back as he kissed her again.

"We’d better check that the girls are asleep." Her voice came out as a mere thread of its normal self.

"Mmm." He kissed her slowly, sweetly.

Melting, she hardly knew when he flicked off the kitchen light and steered her down the hall, pausing briefly in front of the girls’ room.

"Sound asleep," he murmured, and swung her into his arms.

With a muffled squeak, she stiffened and clutched at his shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Shh. Don’t want to wake the girls." With his shoulder, he turned off the hall light and carried her into her dark bedroom. "Symbolism is important. We skipped this part on our wedding day. Seems like the thing to do now."

He was carrying her across the threshold. A shiver passed through her. My woman to carry home, the gesture seemed to say. Their marriage wasn’t that kind.

Think about it tomorrow, she decided. Worry then.

* * *

ADAM HELD HIS WIFE until her racing pulse quieted, her breathing slowed, until he felt her boneless relaxation against him. Only then did he ease away, tuck the covers around her, and sit on the edge of the bed.

He buried his face in his hands and thought, It couldn’t have been that special. I couldn’t have felt so much. The explanation was much simpler. Lynn was his wife, and he’d been driven lately by the need to make their relationship fact. Any man would have felt the same.

And he wouldn’t like himself if a certain amount of tenderness wasn’t added to the brew, if he hadn’t cared about her happiness.

Anything else was in his imagination.

Adam rose to his feet and then froze when Lynn made a soft sound and burrowed deeper in the pillow and quilts. When she settled down, he went quietly to the window.

Jennifer, forgive me.

No! There was nothing to forgive. He’d married for Rose’s sake, for Shelly’s, and he owed it to them, to himself, to Lynn, to make this marriage real and lasting. Jennifer would understand.

He wouldn’t let himself think even for a moment that this had been more honest than anything he’d ever shared with Jennifer.

Lynn’s shyness had touched him.

Shy was a foreign word to his Jenny. That didn’t make their connection any less meaningful.

Staring out at the soft yellow glow of street lamps, able to hear the muffled beat of the surf though the window was shut, Adam didn’t want to be as casual about women as men he overheard talking in the locker room of his health club.

All he asked was that he be able to get close to his new wife without feeling as if he was cheating on Jennifer, without this constant, tearing remembrance that she’d lost everything, that all he could do in return was prove that his love was enduring.

Maybe he hadn’t been ready to test himself with Lynn.

Flattening his hands on the cold glass, Adam grimaced. Too late, he reminded himself. There was no way he could tell her in the morning that this had been a mistake. He owed her better than that kind of hurt.

And the truth was, he didn’t want to go back. He wanted to see Lynn’s eyes flutter open in the morning, see her pretty pink blush. He wanted to kiss her in the soft light before they rose for breakfast.

He wanted to hold his wife close every night.

Forgive me, Jenny.