Adam Then and Now

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Walt? This is Adam again. Is Daphne still there?” He waited for an answer. “Yeah, I’m sure she is upset. Would you try and get her to the phone, please?” He waited, hand massaging the back of his neck.

  Then he paused, and his shoulders sagged. “I was afraid of that. Listen, I have a big favor to ask. Would you or Josh sort of watch out for her? Maybe there’s a good movie in town, or something. I hate like hell to leave her on her own tonight, but we don’t have much choice.”

  Panic rose hot and fast, pushing out Loren’s sympathy. It was one thing to understand Adam’s pain. It was quite another to approve the use of her son as a Band-Aid. She shook her head violently at Adam. Daphne wasn’t some little Munchkin singing her ABC’s anymore, and tonight she was staying in a resort, unchaperoned. Loren wasn’t sure if Walt would remember Daphne’s circumstances. Walt wasn’t much of a night owl, and she could just imagine him sending the “kids” off to a movie, never suspecting they might end up in Daphne’s room.

  “Just a minute, Walt,” Adam said. “Loren’s trying to tell me something.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “What’s the matter?”

  “Don’t put Josh in charge of amusing Daphne while we’re gone.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t putting Josh in charge. I was asking both of them to”

  “My father’s nearly seventy. He doesn’t stay up past nine-thirty. Who do you suppose will be ‘watching out’ for Daphne after that? And where do you suppose they might end up? A romp in the resort Jacuzzi, perhaps? And then what?”

  “Whatever you’re implying is stupid. They barely know each other.”

  “I’ve seen your daughter, and I don’t think I’m being the least bit stupid.”

  His gaze hardened. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Let me talk to my father.”

  He hesitated, then with a disgusted snort handed her the phone.

  “Dad? Hi. Listen, I’m a little concerned that Josh could get in over his head with Daphne.” She didn’t look at Adam, but she could sense his anger. Tough. She was protecting her son.

  “Like how?” Walt asked, amusement in his voice.

  “Well, for example, if you bail out of the evening early.”

  “Which I might. These young people have a lot more stamina than I do.”

  “But I worry that Daphne might invite Josh back to the resort. I don’t want him going there alone with her.”

  “Hmm. I guess you have a point.” Walt hesitated and lowered his voice. “But the boy is almost nineteen. He knows the facts of life.”

  “Basically, but Daphne’s...” She turned away from Adam and lowered her head. “She’s more worldly, if you know what I mean,” she said softly, not able to bring herself to explain that she believed Josh was still a virgin and she’d bet Daphne was not. “I’d hate for Josh to have a bad experience. Why don’t you invite Daphne over for a barbecue or something? And try to stay awake until she leaves.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t chain the boy to the house.”

  “I know. But if you get a chance, talk to him. He thinks he can handle himself around her, but I’m not so sure.”

  Walt chuckled. “This from my daughter who married some long-haired weirdo? How does it feel to be on the receiving end of parental worries?”

  She was stunned. “You never told me you thought Jack was weird.”

  “You married him before I got the chance to tell you. Then it was too late, and now for Josh’s sake I don’t say much. No reason for him to be ashamed of his father, even though his father deserves it.”

  Loren drew a long, shaky breath. “I always thought you were kind of neutral on the subject.”

  “I hate to butt in. You know that. But as long as we’re having this conversation, I’ll cast my vote for the man standing next to you.”

  “But”

  “He did the right thing years ago. I know you hated it, but he did the right thing. The fellow has character. And he’s not a bad pilot, either.”

  She stood clutching the receiver, speechless before these revelations.

  “Okay,” her father said. “That’s enough butting in to last the rest of my life. I’ll be quiet now. And I’ll do my best with this other business. You can’t protect your children forever, though. I learned that early on with you.”

  Loren swallowed. “I know, Dad. Thanks. Take care.” Slowly she replaced the receiver.

  “So you think my daughter is some wicked woman who will lead your poor innocent son into the depths of depravity.”

  She turned to confront the fury in his blue eyes. “That’s putting it more harshly than I meant it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say so. I’d say that about sums up your thoughts. Your son is too pure for the likes of my swinging daughter.”

  “He’s shy, Adam. And she’s...not.”

  “It’s the shy ones I worry about!” He laughed bitterly. “Come to think about it, I should be questioning you about your son’s moral fiber. Daphne’s the more vulnerable, because she could get pregnant if they decide to play around. But I haven’t questioned you. And you know why? Because I trust that you’ve raised him to be responsible.”

  She folded her arms. “Which I have.”

  “Bully for you. Well, let me tell you something about Daphne. She may be a bit materialistic, a bit spoiled, but she’s never missed a curfew, never been busted for drugs, or alcohol, either. She’s outgoing, intelligent and funny. The guy who ends up with her will be getting a wonderful deal. And I resent your implication that she can’t be trusted alone with your son!”

  Loren threw back her shoulders and met his anger head-on. “And I think you have blinders on. Daphne’s not a cute little five-year-old anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “And I doubt Josh is the angel you paint him to be, either. Not if he’s got Montgomery blood in him.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why do you think you’re so suspicious of Daphne? Could it be that she reminds you a little bit of yourself at that age?”

  “No way.”

  “Really? I haven’t told you about the interesting conversation I had with Sherry a few months after I got back from Nam. She told me you threw away the birth-control pills the night we were supposed to elope.”

  She stared at him, her face aflame.

  “That was probably overkill, Loren. Once I’d made love to you, I wouldn’t have been able to leave, baby or no baby. I craved you the way a bee craves honey. That’s why I enlisted without telling you goodbye. I put all that in a letter. Several times.”

  “Adam, I”

  “None of it matters now.” He turned and headed for the door. “I think I’ll get some air.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ADAM STEPPED into a deserted hallway and rode an empty elevator to the casino. The main floor, however, overflowed with people. People looking for magic, he thought. Pull a lever and your dreams will come true. Had he imagined life would become that easy once he saw Loren again? Yes, dammit. What a fool he’d been.

  Shouldering his way through the crowd, he headed for the door leading to the river. Once outside, he took a deep breath of cool night air and stood quietly, hands in the pockets of his running shorts. The rain had stopped, although clouds still draped the sky in funereal black.

  He lost track of how long he stood there while Loren’s suspicions about his daughter twisted in his gut. And to make matters worse, the animosity cut both ways; Daphne considered Loren a threat, too. After this debacle, he’d be lucky if he could restore any of the goodwill he’d been cultivating so carefully with Daphne. He’d brought her because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings. What a laugh. Bringing her along on this trip might destroy their relationship altogether.

  And for what? Loren didn’t want anything to do with him. Years ago a kiss like the one they’d shared on the boat dock would have swept away all problems between them. Apparently, a kiss no longer held that kind of power, althoug
h for a moment, as she’d softened against him, and then matched his ferocious need...

  Gamblers coming through the door jostled him out of his preoccupation. He moved away from the entrance and walked down toward the river where large catfish undulated through the shallows near the water’s edge. The marshy scent of the riverbank stirred memories of muddy rivers halfway around the world, of slogging through them in camouflage gear, his rifle held over his head.

  The only reason he’d stayed alive in that dank, primitive world was so that he could come back and explain to Loren. Now it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Maybe she’d been right all along, and years of erosion had destroyed the solid ground upon which they’d once built a bridge between them.

  He directed his gaze across the dark water. Multicolored casino lights reflected on the surface, transforming the current into a river of jewels. A shuttle boat sliced the water, destroying the illusion. Adam watched until the skiff moved down the river and the current repaired itself, becoming a fantasy of lights again. A raindrop splashed against his cheek. Another followed, and soon the rain pattered all around him. With a sigh, he turned and headed inside.

  He debated the wisdom of going upstairs, returning to her. His anger had eased enough that he might be able to reestablish civil communication if she’d join the effort. They still had a job to do in the morning, and he didn’t want their personal feelings to get in the way of that. Yes, he’d go back upstairs and try to smooth things over.

  On the way to the elevators, he stopped off at the gift shop to pick up the latest issue of Flying magazine. Might as well have something constructive to do tonight, he thought. As the clerk rang up his purchase, Adam’s glance fell on the display of condoms. He sure wouldn’t be needing those, he thought with a bitter smile. She’d kissed him as if she wanted to make love, and since then she’d handed him a laundry list of all the reasons that making love was an ill-conceived and foolish idea.

  But he remembered the implied promise in that kiss. She’d meant every bit of it at the time. Was it possible that things might change between them before morning? Absolutely impossible, he decided, given the circumstances and their personalities. No chance at all, he told himself, even as he took a package from the rack and tossed it on the counter to be added to his bill.

  He shared the elevator with a bellman delivering a dinner cart. As the small space filled with the scent of steak, Adam’s stomach rumbled. He should probably suggest that he and Loren have a meal sent to the room. They wouldn’t even have to eat together, but it was his responsibility to buy her dinner, regardless of their differences of opinion.

  He stepped off the elevator and soon became aware of the bellman rumbling along behind him as he walked down the hall. When he stopped at his room, the key in his hand, the bellman paused outside Loren’s door. Adam glanced at the cart.

  There were a hell of a lot of covered dishes on it. Plus wine in an ice bucket and a red carnation in a bud vase. And two wineglasses. Apparently, she’d ordered dinner for both of them, preempting his idea. Curious to find out for sure, he opened his door and walked in before she had a chance to answer the bellman’s knock.

  The connecting doors were still open. Tossing his package on a bedside table, he sauntered over and leaned against the doorframe between the rooms. He concluded that the arrival of dinner had covered the sound of his entrance, because she seemed unaware of him as she supervised the laying of the table, tasted the wine the bellman offered her and signed the check. The bellman wheeled the empty cart toward the door, and she turned in his direction.

  Her eyes widened. “Adam! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Expecting company?” He angled his head toward the table, quite obviously set for two.

  She looked uncertain, an unusual expression for her. She gestured toward the table. “I’m afraid this will appear on your bill, but when we get back, I’ll reimburse you. I’d like to offer it as” her glance wavered, slid away from his “—an apology.”

  And a very sedate one, he noted. This wasn’t on a par with throwing herself into his arms and begging his forgiveness. Or begging for his love. This apology suited damaged friendships and business relationships. He didn’t change position. “What does this apology cover exactly?”

  She steepled her fingers together and brought them to her mouth, tapping gently against her chin. Her gaze was troubled. “Perhaps I have been too quick to judge Daphne. All I can say in my defense is that Josh is the most important person in the world to me. I’d do anything to keep him from getting hurt.”

  “Then you know how I feel about my daughter,” he said quietly.

  Her fingers pressed together more tightly. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “We have that in common, at least.”

  She nodded.

  He realized she was waiting for him to accept her gesture. What the hell. They had to eat. “Thank you for ordering dinner,” he said, starting toward the table. “But I certainly don’t expect you to pay for”

  “Oh, yes, I will.”

  He glanced at her rebellious expression and almost laughed. “So, are we now going to fight about who pays for the dinner?”

  “Not unless you insist on playing the macho big shot.”

  Now he did laugh. “Heaven forbid. Come on, Lor, let’s eat.”

  He thought of holding her chair and canceled the impulse. With the problems that stood between them, he’d be better off keeping his distance, because coming too close to Loren made him think of that kiss on the boat dock. And thinking of that kiss made him long for what he couldn’t have.

  “Wine?” She held the bottle poised over his goblet.

  He hesitated. Wine usually made him feel romantic. Not a good idea right now. “No, thanks.”

  She lowered the bottle to the table. “If you don’t like this kind, we can order something else.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the wine.”

  “You’re still furious with me, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Furious wasn’t the adjective he’d have chosen. Disappointed, frustrated, confused, but not furious. Not anymore. She’d obviously taken his rejection of the wine the wrong way. She didn’t know how wine affected him. How could she, considering the only alcohol they’d ever consumed together was a glass of champagne at her graduation party?

  He shrugged. “What the heck. Sure, I’ll have a little wine.”

  She visibly relaxed and filled his glass with the ruby liquid. “I ordered your steak medium. I hope that’s okay.”

  He liked it rare these days, but again, she couldn’t have known. Another of the endless things they didn’t know about each other. He’d imagined long, satisfying conversations as they filled in the lost years. Oh, well. “Medium’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  They ate in relative silence after that, with only occasional comments. He mentioned that his steak was tender, and she asked if she could use his sour cream, if he didn’t want it. When he passed it over, their fingers brushed, and she glanced into his eyes. The speed with which she broke eye contact and the intensity she lavished on the task of spreading the sour cream on her potato told him she was strung as tight as he.

  “Did you gamble when you went downstairs?” she asked as if to cover up the moment. But her tone was breathy, and he wasn’t fooled.

  “No. Just walked down by the river.”

  “Oh.”

  Outside, the wind whipped up, blowing rain against the window and emphasizing the coziness of their setting. Adam took another sip of wine and settled back in his chair.

  He had nowhere much to look except at Loren, and that was dangerous. In a T-shirt, with her face washed free of makeup by the rain, she looked very much like the teenager who’d won his heart. His gaze lingered on her mouth, the curve of her cheek, the sweep of her eyelashes.

  He remembered how she’d tasted that afternoon, how her lips had opened for him, how she’d moaned softly, a special moan that sounded like no one else’s. Desire
returned to taunt him with unattainable images. With an effort, he glanced away, which only made matters worse. To her left was a far-too-inviting stretch of mattress. He put down his wineglass. Enough of that.

  Except he’d had only half a glass. Not enough to explain the persistent ache gaining momentum every time he looked at her. He shoved back his chair. “Have you checked to see what’s on TV tonight?”

  She paused, her glass halfway to her lips. “No. Have you?”

  “No.” He stood, glad for a chance to move. The room was too small, too intimate. Crossing to the television set, he reached for the movie guide and read the selections aloud, omitting the x-rated ones. That was all they needed, a porno flick. “Anything sound good?”

  “I suppose we could watch the Billy Crystal one. Josh keeps pestering me to see more movies, but I’m always so busy.”

  “I haven’t gone to many, either. Well, maybe this is the night to see a movie.” He figured it was a good middle ground, not as abrupt as stalking off to his own room and closing the door, yet less perilous than lingering over another glass of wine and gazing across the table at her.

  “Actually...”

  He looked up from the television guide. She sat swirling the remaining wine in her glass and gazing into the tiny maelstrom she’d created. His heart beat heavily in his chest. He waited.

  “I was wondering if you’d tell me what was in those letters.”

  He caught his breath, amazed that she’d volunteered a tentative step onto very treacherous ground. And now that she’d asked, could he satisfy her request without stirring up emotions better left alone?

  He could cut her off. He knew his line and the exact way he should deliver it. It’s not important anymore, Loren, he should say in a bored, worldly tone. Billy Crystal would be a lot more entertaining than that old story.

  “I can understand if you don’t want to,” she continued. “But after we take the pictures tomorrow, I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again. This is probably my last chance to find out why you changed your mind about leaving. Our last chance to clear the air between us.”