For the Girls' Sake

chapter FOURTEEN

"COFFEE, SIR?" The waiter accepted Adam’s nod and refilled his cup. "Our cheesecake is excellent."

Adam skipped the dessert; Lynn decided to indulge. The three partners in Adam’s firm were having dinner with their wives at a Portland restaurant. This was throwing Lynn in with a vengeance. She had never met these friends and colleagues, and both they and their wives had known Jennifer.

Now, amid general chatter as the others debated dessert, she touched Adam’s thigh and murmured, "I’m going to the restroom. Will you ask if they have herbal tea? I forgot."

"Anything but peppermint." He knew her tastes.

When she rose, Jillian, another of the wives, stood as well. "I’ll join you."

As Jillian passed Adam to follow Lynn, she leaned down and murmured in his ear, "I like her. You’re a lucky guy."

Erica, sitting on Adam’s other side, had overheard. With the other two women wending their way between tables toward the back of the elegant restaurant, she said, "I’m so glad this marriage has worked out for you, Adam. Ron told me the circumstances, I hope you don’t mind. It sounded like a prescription for disaster, and instead the two of you are a pair of lovebirds!"

Lovebirds? Adam thought incredulously. Where had she gotten that idea?

"You do look happy," agreed her husband, who had been Adam’s best friend since university days. Ron Chainey was the only one here who’d met Lynn, as he’d been the best man at the wedding. "You’ve been keeping Lynn tucked away." His grin was wicked. "Now we know why."

Erica, a curvy redhead who was unapologetically plump, patted his hand. "I’m so glad, after Jennifer, that you’ve found someone."

"He always was a lucky guy." Ron aimed a mock punch at his shoulder.

When Adam failed to volunteer details about his married life, conversation drifted again. Eugene Warren, the third partner in their brokerage, wanted to complain about his clients’ demands for certain stocks, an old refrain.

Waiting for his wife to return, Adam couldn’t keep his mind on a discussion about business. He hadn’t seen Lynn in a dress more than a time or two. She was beautiful tonight, in a simple teal-colored sheath of rough silk. That glorious hair was anchored in a French roll on the back of her head, the tiny runaway tendrils appearing intentional.

When she’d twirled for his approval, she’d smiled impishly. "This dress is courtesy of your credit card, I must warn you."

“It’s stunning." Her legs went on forever. "You’re stunning," he amended, probably sounding as dazed as he felt. "Worth every penny, and a lot more."

"Why, thank you."

She sounded the tiniest bit breathless, which made him wonder whether it was so obvious that he would have liked to wrap his arms around her and pull her in for a long kiss.

Whatever else you could say about their marriage, the chemistry between them was good. Better than good. Incredible. No wonder they looked happy.

They were happy. He was reasonably sure she felt the same.

The old axiom echoed in his ears. If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.

This was no time to adopt a pessimistic outlook, Adam thought in irritation. Just because life was good didn’t mean something had to go wrong. His arrangement with Lynn was giving them both what they wanted. How could that go sour?

Sure, you’re getting what you want, an inner voice jeered. You’re getting everything: a beautiful, caring partner, both daughters, all the trappings of a happy marriage. In return you’re giving...what?

Knowing he was being defensive, still he fired back, The same. Lynn wasn’t suffering here.

He wasn’t the only one who thought she was happy. Even these old friends had a similar impression. He and Lynn had everything going for them. The only part of a conventional marriage they’d skipped were the words I love you, and neither he nor Lynn needed them.

Deep in his brooding, he didn’t hear her footsteps. She was already pulling out her chair and saying, "Ooh. Look at that cheesecake" when he caught her scent. Adam stood and pushed in the chair after she’d sat. He hadn’t even noticed the dessert arrive.

"Thank you," she murmured, and began talking to Jillian across the table. Something about an art fair for children that was being held at a school.

"Face painting," Jillian was saying, "you know the girls would love that! Oh, and there’s always sand art and finger painting for the little ones, and origami. And swirl art!" She laughed. "Now, there’s a mess to clean up! But the kids have a great time. Do bring Shelly and Rose."

Adam wanted to kiss Lynn’s neck, right where those tiny wisps of auburn hair curled like miniature tumbleweeds. She had incredible skin, milky pale with just a hint of peach, like the redhead she wasn’t quite. He’d pull out the pins securing her hair one at a time, until the thick mass of curls tumbled into his hands and over her bare shoulders, and kissing her thoroughly. Her kisses were shy, not provocative. Sweet, as if they meant something beyond the moment.

One of the men asked him something about the Trail Blazers, Portland’s pro basketball team, and Adam answered, but as briefly as possible. Impatience barely in check, he waited for Lynn to finish her cheesecake.

As she swallowed the last bite, he tossed some bills onto the table and said abruptly, "We need to get home. Grandma is baby-sitting, you know, and it’s after her bedtime."

A wide smile spread across his buddy Ron’s face. "Uh-huh. Sure. It’s Grandma’s bedtime you’re worrying about."

"Shut up," Adam said amiably. He took Lynn’s hand and tugged her to her feet. "We’re newlyweds, aren’t we? We’re entitled."

They escaped only after a couple more minutes of razzing. In the lobby, Lynn shrugged into her coat when he held it for her. Neither talking, they went out into Portland’s usual chilly, damp night.

"Are you concerned about Angela baby-sitting?" she asked, as he unlocked the passenger car door for her.

He pulled her to him for a quick, hard kiss. "Nope. I got to imagining how much I was going to enjoy having you all to myself."

“Oh." He could hear her blush, if such a thing were possible.

On the drive home, Lynn agreed that she liked his friends, liked their wives, had indeed made plans to take Rose and Shelly to the art fair at the elementary school where Jillian served as PTA president. Yes, she thought she could be friends with Jillian in particular; did Adam know that she’d written a children’s book and was seeking a publisher?

Despite her willingness to answer direct questions, Lynn was rather quiet. It seemed to Adam that her voice was constrained. Maybe she was tired, he decided. Could be she’d been nervous about meeting his friends and was relieved it was over. Or she was anxious about leaving the girls with Angela. There were any number of reasons she might be a little distracted.

But on top of his earlier brooding, it bothered him that she wasn’t as open as usual, that she seemed to be doing some brooding of her own.

If it looks too good to be true... The wail of a distant siren seemed to whisper just to him.

He had too many moments like this, when he felt as if he were balancing a dozen wineglasses on his nose like the Chinese acrobats he’d taken Rose to see last fall. Any misstep and he’d see them teeter, arc in slow motion through the air, shatter on the floor. Maybe it was losing Jennifer the way he had. He knew how quickly the rug could be yanked out from under you.

Especially when the only promises given were "I’ll try my best," and a more formal "I do."

At home her smile seemed forced, too, when Angela jabbered about the cute things Shelly said and how smart she was and wasn’t it nice that the girls loved each other like sisters?

"Thanks for baby-sitting, Mom." Adam kissed her cheek and managed to get her heading toward the front door. He walked her out to her car, thanked her ten more times, and stood with hands in pockets watching until the brake lights winked once and her BMW disappeared into the trees. Asking her to baby-sit had been Lynn’s idea; he had always waited in vain for her to volunteer. She’d agreed with such alacrity, he guessed she had wanted to be asked. Apparently he and she were two of a kind. Thanks to Lynn, his relationship with Angela and Rob was the best it had ever been.

More surprisingly, he’d realized recently that he was seeing more of his own parents, too. Just today, his mother had called to chat. She’d asked a few probing questions about his marriage, which made Adam wonder if Lynn hadn’t been right after all. His mother might care more than he’d suspected. These past weeks, they’d come to dinner several times and had Lynn, Adam and the girls over to their place. His mother had even given Shelly and Rose a tour of her studio! Adam was coming to the unwelcome conclusion that he had shut his parents out, not the other way around. He was lucky that Lynn was around to mend fences he’d evidently damaged in his clumsiness.

Lynn. He locked the front door behind him, anticipation quickening in him. He could take his wife to bed. At last. There, at least, they were close, their moods invariably in sync. Physically, at least, she wanted to be close to him, he had no doubt about that much.

She’d left lights on downstairs but had apparently already gone up. Disquiet touched him. Was something wrong? Had somebody said something tonight that upset her? Why wasn’t she talking to him?

Irritably he asked himself why he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe she’d slipped upstairs to get ready for bed. He might find her waiting for him with a sweet smile. He just hoped she hadn’t let her hair down. He wanted to save that pleasure for himself.

Flipping off lights as he went, Adam paused in the upstairs hall, as he knew Lynn would have done a few minutes before, to step into the girls’ bedroom and assure himself they were both safely tucked into bed, healthy, their sleep untroubled. As he stood beside the bed, Rose’s eyes opened and she gazed sleepily up at him.

"Daddy," she whispered.

He bent down, cupped her face and kissed her forehead. "Mommy and I are home. You sleep tight, sweetheart."

"’Kay, Daddy," she murmured even as her heavy lids sank closed. After a moment of stillness, a small snore escaped her parted lips and she rolled away, nestling closer to Shelly.

Adam’s smile died when he reached his bedroom and saw Lynn. Her back was to him. She’d already unclipped her earrings and let down her hair. As he watched, she massaged her scalp, then ran her fingers through the curls and shook them out.

He stepped silently behind her and brushed his lips along her nape. She started, then bowed her head. The skin was so soft here. With his fingertips Adam traced the column of her neck. She sighed softly.

"Are you tired?" he asked. "You didn’t wait for me."

"I am tired," Lynn admitted.

"If you want to go right to sleep..." Hoping she’d say no, Adam nuzzled the curve between neck and shoulder.

She sucked in a breath. "I thought I would." Her voice was throaty, not much above a whisper.

Disappointment smacked him in the face, fear in the gut. She might just be tired. But what if it was more?

He straightened away from her. With determined civility, Adam said, "Then you’d better get right to bed. Would you rather I read downstairs for a while?"

"No." Lynn turned suddenly and wrapped her arms around his neck. "No, don’t go. I’m not that tired."

"If you want to sleep, it might be best..." The translation, he thought grimly, was, I need to put some distance between us if I can’t be with you.

Her eyes were huge and dark, and he felt tension quivering through her. "You’ve changed my mind."

The disappointment evaporated like a cold sweat; the fear lingered. She tugged his head down to hers with a hint of desperation. Her mouth was needy.

* * *

THERE WAS NOTHING romantic about what had followed, but he’d been past caring. Now, when he tried to wrap Lynn in his arms, she stiffened.

"I’m cold," she said in a small voice. "I think I’ll take a shower. If you don’t mind."

That brought his eyes open. "Why would I mind?"

"I’ll be back in a few minutes." She was definitely beating a retreat. A second later the bathroom door shut and he heard the shower start.

Sighing, Adam got up. He hung up his slacks and tie, draped the shirt over a chair, and pulled on his pajama bottoms. He brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face at one of the two sinks outside the bathroom. Leaving on the lamp at Lynn’s side of the bed, he switched off the overhead light and climbed into bed.

Her shower wasn’t a quickie. It ran and ran, as if she felt the need to scrub every inch of her body, or simply to let the hot water unknot the tension he’d felt. Guessing that she’d prefer it, Adam pretended to be asleep when she finally, quietly, came out. Water ran briefly in the sink as she too brushed her teeth. A moment later the mattress gave as she sat. The lamp went out, and she slipped in on her side of the bed, seemingly careful not to touch him.

Wide-awake, Adam wondered how Lynn really felt about him. She had entered willingly into their bargain, but he knew that was for the sake of the girls. When they were together, did she pretend he was someone else? When she’d pulled his mouth down to hers, changing her mind with such odd abruptness, did she hunger for the physical connection without it mattering who held her?

Did she think about him during the day, or in the night when they were separated? Had her feelings for him grown, or were they still two strangers who happened to share a bed?

Adam hadn’t expected to feel so insecure. Not daring to move, he stared into the darkness and knew that something was missing for him in this marriage. He didn’t like discovering that he wanted her to love him. The words and everything that went with them counted, after all.

What kind of jerk did that make him, considering he didn’t, couldn’t, return her love?

Did she wonder if he closed his eyes and imagined he was with Jennifer? The idea unexpectedly jolted him. Was that what was wrong?

The possibility was particularly ironic considering his own guilt because he so seldom did think about Jennifer anymore. She was slipping away from him, Lynn’s vivid presence routing the ghost. He had trouble seeing Jenny’s face anymore, hearing her laugh; she no longer visited his dreams. He sure didn’t imagine her when he was holding Lynn.

That guilt crushed him suddenly in its grip. He’d lied to himself, he thought in despair. He’d never intended to hold Jennifer close to his heart once he had remarried. His promises on their wedding day, the vows he’d sworn beside her deathbed, all meant nothing. Out of sight, out of mind.

Muscles rigid, Adam wasn’t sure he could keep lying here in this bed next to his too-still wife. He needed to be away from her. Able to pace. Bang his head against a wall. He needed to find Jennifer again, if she was here at all.

Or maybe, just maybe, he needed to find a way to say goodbye. Lynn deserved better than their farce of a marriage. Could he give it to this shy, gentle woman with guts, brains and a heart?

Before he lost her?

Her breathing was regular, soft. His gaze sought the numbers on the clock. He’d been lying here for twenty minutes now. She must be asleep.

Making slow movements only, he edged his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, then, careful not to tug at the covers, stood. He kept a bathrobe on a hook inside the bathroom door. He’d earlier turned down the thermostat, so he shrugged into the bathrobe. Lynn hadn’t moved. She had to be asleep. She wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

He didn’t turn on a light until he reached his home office downstairs. There, Adam ignored the computer. It was the leather album he reached for, the one he kept on a low shelf so Rose could look at photos of her mother whenever she chose.

He sat in the large leather armchair and opened the album in his lap. On the first page were pictures taken while they were engaged. She looked young, was his first thought. Not so different from Shelly. A girl. She sparkled, Jenny did, even in a photograph. He traced the lines of her pixie face, alight with laughter, and remembered the first time they met, when she’d chattered so fast he didn’t know half of what she said. She was beautiful, but in a different way with her eyes slanted like a cat’s, her high cheekbones and pointy chin. She’d worn her brown hair short, increasing the elfin effect. Next to her, he had always felt stolid, slow moving. Even his thoughts couldn’t jump from idea to idea with the lightning speed of hers. He had fallen in love with Jenny McCloskey immediately, and loved her until the day she died. Loved her even afterward, when he had been left to raise their daughter alone.

Slowly he turned the pages and watched her mature from that laughing girl to a stylish, sophisticated woman who never quite lost the mischief in her eyes. In the last photos, Jenny was pregnant, her face slightly rounder, her stomach ripe with their child. Not Rose, but Shelly.

Ah, Jenny, Adam thought, are you really gone? Is it time to say goodbye?

"You still miss her."

His head shot up so fast he bit his tongue. Lynn had sneaked up on him. She stood in the doorway, looking small and vulnerable in the thick chenille robe that had been a Christmas gift from her mother. Her eyes were fixed not on him, but on the open album.

Adam resisted the temptation to close it. He swallowed. "No. Most of the time, I don’t think about her." Because of you. But he didn’t say that. It sounded too much like an accusation.

"May I see?"

Wordlessly he turned the photo album and held it out. Lynn took it from him and gazed down at his first wife, pregnant with the child she had raised as her own.

With shock he saw her eyes brim with tears. She touched the photo, too. "She—your Jennifer—would have adored Shelly."

Adam opened his mouth to say and Rose, but he couldn’t. Jenny had been so quick, so impatient, he thought Rose might have driven her crazy.

Lynn swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Her voice sounded just a little hoarse. "Why tonight?"

"What?"

Now she did look at him, her gaze bravely holding his. "Why did you come down to look at her pictures tonight?"

He wanted to evade, but he could see that she wouldn’t let him.

"I’m forgetting her. I swore I wouldn’t do that."

"She’s dead."

Anger flashed through him. "Do you think I don’t know that?"

Her eyes were too clear, too all-seeing. "Sometimes, I’m not sure."

"What does that mean?"

“She’s been dead for almost four years. Shelly’s lifetime. And you’re still grieving as though it was only four months ago."

"Would you want to be forgotten that quickly?"

Lynn answered without hesitation. "I would not want to linger here, if some wisp of my presence crippled the people I’d loved."

He got to his feet, dumping the photo album, not looking at where it lay sprawled on the hardwood floor. "Crippled? Rose didn’t know her to mourn. And look at me. I’ve remarried, I enjoy being close to my wife. How is that crippled?"

Unblinking, she stared at him for the longest time. Anxiety clenched his stomach and knotted his hands at his side.

Whatever he expected, it wasn’t what came.

"I love you," she said quietly.

He expelled all the air in his lungs as if a fist had driven it out.

"You love me," he said stupidly.

She loved him, Adam exulted. Her strange mood tonight meant nothing.

"Do you love me?" she asked, equally quietly.

He hadn’t caught his breath yet. Not a single word presented itself. She loves me, tangled in his mind with one last seeking cry, Jenny.

Jenny was gone. Lynn was here, and his heart swelled with the startling awareness that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

"See?" Lynn spoke gently. "You can’t say it, can you? Or anything close."

His mouth worked.

She laughed, but sadly. "I shouldn’t have even put you on the spot, should I? Love wasn’t part of our deal. You warned me. I thought that wouldn’t matter. I just didn’t know that I was already falling in love with you."

"I...care." Even he knew that was inadequate.

"I know you do," she said with that same terrifying gentleness. "You’re such a good, loving father, and you’ve been so kind to me. So...caring. Reading books I liked. And listening to me. I appreciate that. Really I do."

He had never felt so lumpish, even with Jennifer. He knew he needed to find the right thing to say, but he kept shying away from the obvious—I love you. Did he love her? Was that what he’d been feeling? Was that why he needed the words from her, the reassurance? Why he thought about her constantly, missed her when she was on the coast? Why he’d begun imagining what a child who was his and hers together would be like?

Panic made his heart pound so hard he could hear the beats. Think! he told himself, his customary caution coming to his rescue. Be sure. Don’t spout off at the mouth and then be sorry.

Lynn squeezed her hands together in front of her, looking uncomfortably as if she were praying. "I thought I could live with you and be your wife, even if you were still mourning for Jennifer. But I can’t. No." She stopped him before he could speak. "It’s not her. It’s the fact that you don’t love me. Someday you’ll get over her, and you’ll be ready to love again. You won’t want to be married to me."

“I will never not want to be married to you." This much he knew, with unshakable certainty.

Her tiny, grateful smile ripped at his heart. "You say things like that, and it weakens my resolve. But the truth is, we’re married only because I wouldn’t move from Otter Beach. Well, I’ve decided. I’ll sell the store and get a job and an apartment in this area. We can do some kind of joint custody thing. Maybe they can spend a week with me and then a week with you. Or if I can get days off during the week, I can have them then and you can have them on weekends. Or something. We’ll make it work. But we will not be married just because it’s the most convenient way to each have both girls."

"We are married."

Tears sprang into her eyes again. "It’s not necessary anymore."

Anguish made his voice raw. "I don’t want to lose you."

Tears ran down her cheeks now. "I’m not going far. Maybe...maybe we can be friends."

"Friends?" Adam repeated incredulously. "I don’t want to be friends!"

Lynn’s face crumpled like a small child’s. She whispered, "I’m sorry," and fled.

Adam’s mouth formed the words I love you.

Too late.