Still Waters

by Misha Crews

  “Is my daddy dead?” he asked.

  Jenna closed her eyes. That was the one question she had been afraid to answer, and the only one he hadn’t asked at least once. She didn’t want to lie to her son. She could lie to everyone else and it somehow seemed all right, justifiable. But to tell a lie to her little boy was the lowest she could ever sink. Lucien may have not have been perfect, but he had always told her the truth, no matter how it hurt.

  “I’m so sorry, darling,” she said. And in that moment, she hated herself.

  “My daddy’s dead.” He wailed softly into the gathering darkness. And when she tightened her embrace around him, this time he turned into it, seeking the warm oblivion of a mother’s comfort.

  She rocked him gently as he cried, groping for the magic words that would make this all right, and coming up empty.

  “Jenna?” A man’s voice came from the side of the house, making her and Christopher lift their heads. Frank, Jenna thought wearily. He’s come to check on us. The phone had rung earlier in the afternoon, but she hadn’t wanted to leave her son alone long enough to answer.

  She expected to see Frank’s lithe figure rounding the corner from the driveway, but instead it was the tall, lanky body of Adam that appeared. His eyes were large and dark with some unnamed anger. But when he saw them, with tears reddening their eyes and their arms around each other, the anger evaporated. He rushed up the steps of the back deck. For a moment, Jenna thought that he would gather both her and Christopher into his arms and hold them close, but he stopped a few feet away.

  “What is it?” he asked. Even in the dim light, Jenna could see the anxious look in his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched with worry. “Did you know your car has a flat tire? What happened? I’ve been trying to get you on the phone for hours.”

  His presence was a warm flood of relief pouring over her, followed by a hot wash of embarrassment at how she had ended their last meeting. She was groping for an answer when Christopher launched himself out of her arms and into Adam’s. “Uncle Adam!” he cried piteously.

  Jenna could only watch and try not to weep as Adam embraced the boy, closing his eyes and giving in to the sweetness of having those little arms around his neck.

  “Hey, buddy,” Adam whispered. “What’s wrong, huh?”

  “It’s my daddy,” Christopher hiccupped. “Mommy just told me that my daddy’s dead.”

  The glare that Adam shot Jenna made her cringe. She shook her head slightly, trying to indicate she hadn’t said that — at least, not exactly. She stood up, feeling more confident on her feet, and tried to keep her voice firm and calm. “It started with the squirrel — ”

  But that only brought fresh tears from her son, who buried his head into Adam’s neck as he wept.

  Idiot. Jenna cursed herself, opening and closing her hands in frustration. Couldn’t she say anything right today?

  She opened her mouth to try again, but luckily Adam cut her off.

  “It’s cold out here,” he said, rubbing Christopher’s back gently. “Why don’t we go inside?”

  “I’ll make cocoa,” Jenna offered. She reached out to touch her son’s arm. “Would you like that, sweetheart?”

  Christopher nodded.

  Jenna put the milk on to heat and stood by the stove while Adam took a seat at the kitchen table, sliding Christopher onto his lap. When they were close together like that, she could clearly see the resemblance between them — the way their smiles crinkled the corners of their eyes, their long finger bones and rounded nails. Father and son.

  She swallowed hard.

  What a mess she had made of things for all of them. And yet, given the circumstances, she wasn’t sure what else she could have done. She wasn’t sure what to wish for — if Bud hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have Christopher. If she had told Bill and Kitty the truth about her son, Christopher wouldn’t have his grandparents, and they wouldn’t have their grandson, their lifeline.

  Do the best you can with what you’ve got, Lucien used to say, and have no regrets.

  Easier said than done.

  “Tell you what, buddy,” Adam murmured. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened?”

  And Christopher did. Jenna wisely stayed mum while her son told Adam all about the squirrel and what they had seen on the road today. He struggled through describing it, but Adam asked all the right questions, and when Christopher was done saying what he had to say, he seemed to feel better. He sat thoughtfully as Jenna added some cold milk to his hot cocoa and topped it off with a marshmallow.

  “Thank you, Mommy,” Christopher said. He smiled a tear-stained smile and added, “You always make my cocoa just the way I like it.”

  It was the type of lovely little comment that would bring tears to the eyes of any mother, and Jenna was no different. She turned away and felt eternally grateful when Adam once again seized the reins of the conversation.

  He leaned forward and spoke seriously. “I’m sorry you had to see what you saw today. You were very brave.”

  “I wasn’t brave.” Christopher’s voice trembled. “I cried. Crying isn’t brave.”

  “Son, everybody cries. I have seen some of the bravest men who ever lived shed more tears than you did today. Yes, you cried, but you also faced what you had to face, which is that sometimes the people we love die, and when they do, it hurts.” A glimmer of humor hovered behind Adam’s eyes. “Even when the people we love are squirrels.”

  Christopher smiled slightly, but he wasn’t ready to be cheered up yet. “Did you know my daddy?”

  The question made Jenna’s heart stand still, and she met Adam’s gaze with fearful eyes. What would he say to that? Adam, who was always loath to lie — would he be able to perpetuate the fiction that Jenna had created?

  For a selfish instant, Jenna wished that he wouldn’t. She ached for him to tell Christopher the truth, for her lies to be exposed, no matter the consequence. She could imagine Adam holding their son close, whispering, It’s me, son — I’m your father.

  After a moment, Adam spoke carefully. “Bud Appleton was one of my best friends. We were like brothers.”

  Jenna watched Christopher’s brow wrinkle as he processed that information. She could tell that he was struggling, gathering the bits of information and vague images he had in his mind and trying to bring them together to form something solid, something real that he could grasp and understand. “What — what was he like?” the little boy asked. “Do you think he would like me?”

  “He would love you,” Adam answered immediately, giving Jenna the impression that he had anticipated the question. “Do you want me to tell you some stories about when he and I were kids?”

  Christopher nodded, then turned to his mother. His eyes were wide and hopeful. “Mommy has pictures,” he said. “Mommy has a whole book with pictures of my daddy. Can we look at it?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.” Jenna’s heart twisted as she spoke the words. The lie was set in stone now, wasn’t it? There was no going back. But then, there never had been. Not really. “Of course.”

  * * *

  Christopher sat on Adam’s lap, and they paged slowly through the photo album. He had seen those old pictures a dozen times before, but he looked with new eyes as Adam told easy tales of his old friend Bud.

  Jenna sat on the other end of the sofa, watching the two of them together. Ever thoughtful, Adam made it a point not to exclude her, telling Christopher that Jenna was the first girl he’d ever met who could climb a tree.

  “Mommy, you can climb trees?” Christopher regarded her gravely, as if his mother had just risen a few notches in his eyes.

  “I could when I was younger.” She smiled tiredly. “I haven’t tried in a long time, though.”

  Adam looked at her over Christopher’s tousled head. “If it wasn’t dark outside, I think I’d have to challenge you to a tree-climbing contest, like the ones we had when we were kids.”

  His smile was like a live wire
against her skin. Jenna’s universe tipped sideways, cymbals crashed in her mind, and in a split second of brilliant clarity, she realized how much she loved this man.

  He’s always here, she thought, amazed at her own blindness. I’ve been afraid that he won’t be here if I need him, or if Christopher needs him, but look — he’s right here.

  Memories flashed — moments of pain and loneliness eased by Adam’s presence. Those first days when she’d come to Virginia and hadn’t known anyone: there was Adam with a ready smile, introducing her to the Appletons, bringing her selflessly into the family that had sheltered him. The night of Bud’s funeral, when she’d tottered on the brink of the black well of grief: there was Adam, who’d traveled almost seven thousand miles to comfort her.

  It was Adam who had called her on the Fourth of July, when the roads were flooding and he wanted to make sure they were safe. And it was Adam who had raced to see them tonight, fretting because he couldn’t get her on the phone. Adam had built a house for her, had asked her to share his life. He had offered her everything she’d ever wanted, including himself, and she’d been too afraid — too stubborn — to take it.

  It was a mistake she had to rectify. Immediately.

  Suddenly more sure of herself than she’d ever been, Jenna slid across the sofa until she was sitting next to him. He stiffened with uncertainty as she lifted one of his arms and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pulled Christopher over until he was settled comfortably across both their laps, then she nestled into Adam’s embrace. He held himself rigid for a moment, as if unsure whether he could trust her unexpected gesture of affection. When she finally felt his arms tightened around both her and their son, she knew that everything would be all right.

  She laced her fingers through his and closed her eyes. “Tell Chris about the time you fell out of the apple tree,” she suggested sleepily. “I think he’ll like that one.”

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for her to drift off. When she woke, she found that she was stretched out along the sofa, with Christopher asleep in her arms. She heard Adam moving around in the kitchen, and she cuddled her son close, reveling in the knowledge that the two people she loved most in the world were close by.

  The rich smell of coffee wafted in from the kitchen, and suddenly Jenna realized her son had skipped lunch, and it was well past dinnertime. She eased into a sitting position, careful not to wake Christopher, then stood up.

  When she got to the kitchen and saw Adam standing there, making coffee, she was attacked by a fit of shyness. She’d rejected this man, repeatedly and cruelly, and now she was about to throw herself at him. It seemed to make her the worst kind of fickle, mercurial cliché of a woman.

  Courage, she told herself. She could almost hear Lucien whispering the word in her ear. Have courage.

  Adam turned around and looked at her.

  “Hi,” she said awkwardly.

  “Hi yourself.” He pulled a cup out of the cabinet. “Coffee?”

  “Please. And then I’ll get started on dinner.”

  “Oh.” He looked uncertain. “I fed Christopher a bologna sandwich about forty minutes ago. He said he was hungry, so I didn’t think you’d mind. As soon as he ate, he was out like a light.”

  “You’re always coming to my rescue, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  Adam turned around and poured the coffee. He didn’t say anything, and Jenna knew that this was all going to be up to her. But that made sense, didn’t it? And wasn’t it right? After all, how many times did she expect that she could tell him to get lost before he started to take her at her word?

  Jenna rubbed a hand along the back of her neck. Courage, she thought again.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, figuring that food was as good a place for a woman to start as any. “Did you eat with Christopher?”

  “I did have a sandwich, so I’m fine for now.” He handed her a mug, and she wrapped her hands around it, grateful for the warmth.

  She leaned against the wall and laughed lightly, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. “Do you remember how your father used to say to us, ‘You three are the dumbest smart kids I know!’?”

  “Oh yes.” Adam dipped his head, a smile overtaking his face at the memory. “He thought that we — all of us, you and me and Bud — had too many brains and too little common sense.”

  “Well, the thought keeps running through my head that I must be the dumbest dumb kid I know.”

  He squinted at her. “Now why would you go and say a thing like that?”

  “It takes a fair amount of stupidity not to see what’s right in front of me — what’s been right in front of me for years.”

  “And that is?”

  “You.” She spoke the word softly, but it echoed around the kitchen like a trumpet blast.

  Adam sipped his coffee slowly. He seemed unsure what to say. But that was all right, she would do the talking for both of them.

  “Oh, Adam, I’ve been such a fool.” She set her coffee down on the table, letting her hand rest on it for a moment, feeling that that little bit of contact with the physical universe might be the only thing still rooting her to the life she thought she knew. “And worse than that, I’ve been a coward. I’ve been afraid to let myself love you.”

  “Why?” There was a world of hurt in that one syllable, and a faint fear that there was more pain to come.

  Jenna shrugged. Whatever words she chose next, she knew that they would be painfully inadequate to describe her feelings. “I didn’t want to love you and lose you. I couldn’t stand that again, not after what I — all of us — went through when Bud died. So I convinced myself that you wouldn’t be a dependable husband, that as soon as the next disaster loomed on the horizon, you’d be off to save someone on the far side of the world, while the people who loved you waited for you to come home. I convinced myself that I didn’t love you. But I was wrong about that.”

  She let go of the coffee cup, gently releasing her hold on all she had known, and allowed herself to drift forward, moving across the kitchen until she stood face to face with Adam. She took his own cup out of his hands and set it on the counter next to the sink, then clasped her hands around his still-warm fingers. “I was very wrong about that. Because I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone.”

  They stood very close together, not speaking, not looking at each other, looking only at their hands, joined between their bodies. At last Adam spoke. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

  She understood his need for clarity. It was the old campaigner inside him, ensuring he understood the terms being offered before he negotiated a treaty. It was the engineer inside him, verifying that he had an accurate survey of the land before he built. And it was the man inside him, who had been hurt and didn’t want to feel that pain again.

  “My darling,” she said softly, “I’m telling you that tonight I realized you are one of the greatest things ever to happen to me. And you are the man — the only man — that I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “What about Frank?”

  “He’ll be disappointed, of course, but I don’t think he’ll be crushed.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him, man to man?”

  “No,” Jenna said quickly. “No, it’s best if I speak to him myself. I owe him that. In the end, I think he’ll appreciate that I’m being honest with him. It will save us all a lot of heartache later.”

  He placed a hand under her chin and gently tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Now you listen to me, Jenna. I don’t want to play games. I want you to be my wife. Are you saying that you’ll marry me?”

  “I’d marry you this very instant if I could.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Then we’re going to get blood tests, and as soon as the law allows, I’m going to take you to a Justice of the Peace. We can go alone, or you can invite as many people as you think will fit into one of those little offices. But either way, we’re getting married, and
we’re doing it as soon as possible. And that’s all I have to say on the subject.” His eyes softened, his lips turned up, and his face was suddenly wreathed in smiles. He leaned down to kiss her — a gentle, tender kiss that held the promise of passion shimmering beneath its surface. “Do I have your agreement?”

  Jenna found that she had to catch her breath, and her arms went around his neck even as his slid around her waist. “Yes, dear,” she said breathlessly, and held her face up for another kiss.

  He kissed her again, then pulled away long enough to give her a stern look. “You have no objections to the terms I’ve set forth?”

  “No, dear,” she said, and pulled his head down so their lips could meet again. But before they did, he asked, “What are the chances that you’ll end up a quiet, obedient wife who never gives me a moment’s grief?”

  “Shut up, dear,” she said, and closed the distance between their lips before he could say another word.

  * * *

  “So why were you trying to call me, anyway?” Jenna asked.

  She had put Christopher to bed some time ago, and she and Adam were sitting in the living room. He had his arm around her shoulders.

  “Hmmm?” he asked idly, playing with her hair.

  “When you got here earlier this afternoon, you said that you had been trying to call me for hours. Why were you calling?”

  “Oh.” Adam sat up and grinned sheepishly. “I was going to tell you that you’d won. I talked to a friend of mine in Chicago, and I have an interview with his company.”

  “When?”

  “I was supposed to fly out tomorrow and come back on Monday.”

  Jenna was quiet for a moment, then laughed. “So you were finally going away and letting me live in peace?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And now?”

  “Now you’re never getting rid of me, and you’ll probably never have a moment’s peace again!”