A Dad for Billie

by Susan Mallery

  Dinner had gone better than he’d hoped. Despite the awkwardness between him and Jane, conversation had been lively at the table. With Billie around, there wasn’t much fear of silence. So far she seemed to have accepted him with few reservations, although she did stick close to her mother. Charlene had told him it was perfectly natural in a child her age. He had to bow to her superior wisdom in this area. Funny, Jane was worried about losing Billie, while he was concerned about not being accepted. They were both afraid.

  Billie picked up the empty bowl that had contained the pasta.

  “Have you got that?” he asked. “Is it too heavy?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a kid.”

  “Oh? What are you?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe I’m a kid, but I’m not a little one.”

  “Point taken.” He held open the swinging door to the kitchen, and she ducked under his arm.

  “Are you going to live with us?” Billie asked.

  Even though he’d been worried about her handling the heavy glass bowl, he was the one who almost dropped the dishes he carried. He stepped into the kitchen and sought Jane’s gaze. She looked about as startled as he felt.

  “Live with you?” he repeated.

  “You know, in the same house? Families do that. Are we a family?”

  Jane took the bowl from her daughter’s hands. “Yes, Billie, we’re a family. As for living together, there are a lot of details to be worked out.”

  “What about the houses? We shouldn’t have two. Can we live with Adam? I promise I won’t slide down the banister.”

  Jane smiled at the girl. Adam wondered if Billie saw how her mouth quivered at the corner and the panic in her eyes. “I’ve told you about not making promises you can’t keep.”

  Billie sighed heavily. “I’ll try not to slide down the banister too often.”

  “That’s better.”

  “So can we?”

  Jane looked at him and silently pleaded for help. He set the plates on the counter and crouched in front of Billie. Without her baseball cap, she looked smaller and more feminine. He tapped her nose. “Your mother and I have to work out the details of this arrangement. As soon as we’ve come to some sort of agreement, we’ll let you know. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Billie peered at him. “Are you my dad forever?”

  The lump appeared in his throat without warning. “Yes. Forever.”

  “You won’t go away?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes dads leave. There were two girls in my class last year whose dads left. One of them had to move.”

  He didn’t dare look at Jane. “Sometimes parents do things their children don’t understand. But no, I won’t ever leave you. Not after I’ve just found you.” He rose to his feet. She held out her arms and he swung her up into his embrace.

  “What does a dad do?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. We’ll find out together.”

  “Do you buy me presents on my birthday?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Christmas?”

  “And Christmas.”

  “Like a bike?”

  “Billie!” Jane shook her head.

  Billie leaned closer to him and whispered, “In case you wanted to, you know, ask what I’d like for Christmas, I’d like a bike.”

  “I’d never have guessed,” he said, holding back a smile.

  “Enough,” Jane said, planting her hands on her hips. “Billie, finish clearing the table. Adam, do you want cake?”

  He lowered Billie to the floor and watched her scurry out of the room. Then he turned back to Jane. Several strands of hair had escaped from her braid and now drifted around her face. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, just something to make her lashes longer and her eyes look mysterious. Any lipstick had long since worn away. But that didn’t stop him from staring at her mouth.

  If he concentrated, he could almost taste her sweet passion. It hadn’t been that many days ago that he’d kissed her in anger. Despite the rage he’d felt and his need to punish her, she’d more than met him halfway. It had been a joining of equals, not of teacher and student. A blush stained her cheeks, but he didn’t stop staring. His gaze drifted down to her chest and the row of impossibly small buttons marching from the top of the scooped neck down to the dropped waist of the dress. Her loose clothing hid her shape. Nine years ago she’d felt self-conscious about her small breasts. Had another man taught her that it was the soul of the woman that drove a man wild; that her body was simply packaging? Had other hands taught her that size didn’t matter, that smaller might be more sensitive, that skin as smooth as hers could only ever be perfect? How many lovers had completed what he had begun? How many had made up for his boorishness?

  “Adam?” She spoke his name softly, responding more to his look than asking a question.

  He took a step toward her. Billie burst into the room carrying three glasses and a serving plate balanced precariously on top. He leapt toward her to rescue the china. The plate teetered. He caught it as it fell.

  “Oops,” she said.

  “Oops is right, kid.”

  Billie set the glasses on the counter and turned to her mother. “When are we having dessert?”

  “Right now.”

  Jane opened a bakery box and pulled out the cake inside. Billie grabbed forks and grinned. “My favorite part of the meal.”

  “Mine, too,” he said, trying to ignore the panic building up inside. It was all happening too quickly and too easily. Billie liked him; Jane—He drew in a breath. Something was happening there all right. Hormones or memories or both. And it scared the hell out of him. He was risking too much. This whole thing could explode in his face, leaving him worse off than before.

  *

  “But I want both of you to put me to bed,” Billie whined when Jane told her it was time to take her bath.

  Jane shook her head and glanced at Adam. “There’s still time to back out.”

  He sat on the sofa with Billie curled up next to him. With a lazy flick of his hand, he sent her baseball cap sailing. She chuckled and ducked after it, then climbed onto his lap.

  “I’ll take my chances,” he said, holding Billie in his arms as he rose to his feet. “How about if I give you a piggyback ride to the bathroom, then after your bath, I’ll help tuck you in?”

  “Okay. But I want a long ride. The tub’s real big and takes a long time to fill.”

  Jane watched Adam gallop down the hall, with Billie clinging to his back and urging him to go faster. He ducked to avoid bumping her against the hall light fixture. As they passed under the glow, the hair on their heads gleamed. Identical shades of brown reflected in the light. She forced herself to stand and walk up the stairs to the bathroom.

  The raw feeling hadn’t gone away, she thought, as she adjusted the water temperature. She needed some serious comforting. As she added bubble bath to the tub, she realized that an hour-long soak and a good book wasn’t exactly what she was thinking of. She wanted to be held. By Adam. The trouble with that scenario was that he was part of the problem. A big part. No doubt he was feeling a little on edge himself. Who would he go to for comfort? Was there someone special in Orchard, or maybe the next town, that he could call?

  The thought of Adam with another woman fired up her temper, but she told herself she had no right to care. She’d given away that right the day she’d run out on him. She was lucky he wasn’t married with a dozen kids of his own. At least Billie would have him all to herself while they got acquainted. Charlene had warned her that Adam hadn’t spent the last nine years waiting for her. She would do well to remember that advice.

  While the tub filled, Jane went into Billie’s room and pulled a clean pair of pajamas out of a dresser drawer. After clicking on the lamp, she drew back the bright red spread and smoothed the sheets. The worn old teddy bear, with one ear missing and most of the fur rubbed off, was the only vaguely feminine thing in a room full of baseball poste
rs and sports equipment. She picked up a couple of dirty T-shirts and dropped them into the basket, then walked to the doorway and surveyed the room. Where would they live when the dust settled on this new situation? The three of them? Here? She shook her head. Adam would never give up his family home; nor did she want him to. He belonged to the Barrington estate; it was as much a part of him as his eyes. Would they continue to live next door to each other? There didn’t seem to be much option. She wouldn’t move into that big house. She had no right.

  Thundering footsteps on the stairs drew her attention away from her thoughts. She stepped into the bathroom and turned off the water, then returned to the hall and watched Adam carrying Billie up the stairs. They were both laughing at something. Billie tugged on his shirt collar as if it were the reins. Her pulling had unfastened two buttons exposing more of his broad chest. Jane felt herself flush and looked away.

  “One child delivered for bathing,” he said, turning his back on her and grabbing Billie’s arm to help her slide down.

  “Just in time,” Jane answered. “The bath is ready.”

  “Aw, Mom.”

  Jane laughed. “We have this conversation every night and I’ve never changed my mind about your bath. Why do you keep trying?”

  Billie grinned. “You might say I don’t have to.”

  “Hope springs eternal.” She pulled off her daughter’s baseball cap. “In.” She pointed to the bathtub. “Now.”

  Billie glanced up at Adam. “Will you help tuck me in?”

  Jane told herself not to look, but she couldn’t help it. She glanced at his face. The shutters opened to reveal a longing so intense, it took her breath away. He reached out and tapped Billie’s nose. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

  “Cool.” She ducked into the bathroom. “I’m not really dirty, Mom, so this shouldn’t take long.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “We go through this every night.”

  Adam smiled. “I can imagine. Call me when she’s done.”

  She watched him retreat down the stairs. He moved with a powerful grace that made her long for a second chance.

  “I’m in the tub,” Billie called. “I’m splashing.”

  “I’m coming.”

  *

  “Now Adam kisses me good-night,” Billie demanded royally. He leaned forward and obliged.

  “Enough,” Jane said. “No more kissing or conversation. Go to sleep. You’re exhausted.”

  Billie yawned suddenly, then rolled onto her side. “Okay. G’night.”

  Adam hovered by the bed, as if he didn’t want to leave her just yet. Jane waited by the door. Billie sighed, then her eyes fluttered closed. He leaned over and kissed her again, then joined Jane. They shut the door behind them and walked toward the stairs.

  “All that energy,” he said. “It’s hard to believe she’s actually going to sleep.”

  “I know. But as tired as she is, she’ll be out in about twenty seconds.”

  They reached the hallway and stopped. Jane bit her lower lip. She should send Adam on his way. That was the sensible thing to do. They were both emotionally at the end of their ropes and needed the time to regroup. But to be honest—and selfish—she didn’t want to be alone. Not yet.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked, not daring to look at him.

  He didn’t answer at first. Slowly she raised her gaze to his. Confusion, acceptance and pain swirled in the brown depths. “You have anything stronger?” he asked.

  “Brandy?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll meet you in the parlor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jane found the box of brandy her parents had given her last Christmas and opened the package. After collecting glasses, she turned off the kitchen lights and made her way to the front of the house.

  The storm from the previous evening had passed, leaving clear skies and slightly lower temperatures. Even so, the South Carolina summer night swirled around her, bringing with it the scents and sounds that were uniquely home. Night jasmine, her mother’s favorite, filled the air with its sweetly sensual fragrance. As she entered the parlor, she saw Adam standing by the front window. As at his house, shutters protected them from prying eyes. He’d pulled them back and opened the windows, but hadn’t turned on any lights. A streetlamp provided slight illumination, as did the light in the downstairs hall. Enough to see the size and shape of him, but not his expression when he turned to look at her.

  “Can you open this for me?” she asked, her voice a little softer than normal.

  He took the bottle. “Are you sure you want to? Are you saving it for a special occasion?”

  “I can’t imagine anything more special than you finding out about Billie.”

  Even though he would be as unable to see her face as she was to see his, she turned away, embarrassed at exposing herself to him. She couldn’t let herself forget that he was still angry and had the potential to wound.

  But all he said was “Thank you.” He tore off the protective covering and opened the bottle. She held out the glasses and he poured them each a half inch of the dark liquid.

  “To Billie,” she said, raising her glass.

  “To Billie,” he answered. But instead of drinking, he stared at her. She would have sold her soul for the courage to turn on a light and see the look in his eyes.

  Uneasily she took a sip of the brandy, wincing as it burned a path down to her stomach. But in a few seconds the fiery heat became pleasant and she felt her tension begin to ease.

  “Would you like to sit down?” she asked.

  Without answering, he walked to the long sofa opposite the window and sat. Not on the edge, but not in the middle, either. She chose the opposite spot on the same couch. They didn’t touch, but they could. If they wanted to.

  Don’t! she ordered herself. It was the night that made her foolish. Or the man. But it wasn’t anything real.

  The furniture loomed large in the semidarkness. She picked out the shape of the armoire she had carted with her across the country because of all the memories it contained. Two wingback chairs sat under the big window. In front of the sofa stood a coffee table. She leaned forward and set down her drink.

  “Not a brandy drinker?” Adam asked.

  “No.”

  “Me, neither. But it sounded good.” He placed his glass next to hers. “Some of this old furniture sure brings back memories. I recognize that.” He pointed to the armoire.

  “I helped my mother refinish it. I guess I was a little older than Billie.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

  “Don’t be. It’s been a lot for both of us to deal with. Let’s worry about the apologies another time.”

  It would be easy to accept his kind offer, she thought. Easy to push her shame away and go on with her life. But that was the coward’s way, and she’d been doing that for too long.

  “No, I am sorry. About everything.” She shifted on the sofa, turning until she faced him. She tucked one leg under her and spread out the full skirt of her sundress. “I’m sorry for the way I left you.”

  “But not for leaving?” He sounded bitter.

  “I don’t know.”

  “At least you’re being honest.”

  For a change. He didn’t say the words, but she heard them, anyway. “I’m trying,” she said.

  In the darkness she saw his right shoulder rise, then lower. But she couldn’t see his face or the secrets in his eyes. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and began to toy with the end.

  “My mother went to art school,” she said, not looking at him. “She was very talented. There are some pictures of hers in the attic. I keep meaning to go get them down, but I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid of what I’ll see in her paintings. She loved my father, but he didn’t understand her desire to be more than his wife and my mother. He didn’t like her painting or changing the house.” She pointed at the armoire. “He was furious about that. He liked everythi
ng to stay the same. Including her. She wasn’t allowed to grow or be her own person.”

  “I’m not your father.”

  “I know. But…”

  He leaned forward and rested one arm on the back of the couch. “Don’t blame me for his behavior. I had nothing to do with that. I would never have prevented you from changing. If you remember, I’m the one who encouraged you to plan on continuing with college after we were married.”

  “It’s not that easy, Adam.” She plucked at the ribbon at the end of her braid. When the cloth loosened, she pulled it free, then removed the rubber band. “You wouldn’t have said anything, but I would have known just the same.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.

  “Expectation. You were looking for the perfect banker’s wife. I couldn’t be that.”

  “You said that before. I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t. There is no ‘perfect banker’s wife.’ I wasn’t looking for a job applicant, I wanted a partner.”

  He sounded hurt. She wanted to go to him and offer comfort, but she didn’t have the words and he wouldn’t accept the gesture. Not from her. It was the darkness that made her brave, she realized. That and the fact that she was already so exposed to him. There wasn’t much more he could do or say to hurt her. What was there to lose by speaking the truth?

  “I wanted to be that partner,” she said, loosening the braid. “I wanted to be everything. But I was so afraid.”

  “Of what?” He jerked up one hand in an impatient gesture. “What was so damn frightening about me?”

  “Everything.”

  “That’s a big help.” He turned his head and she caught the flash of white as he smiled.

  “You, Adam. You’re what’s frightening. You’re so damn perfect.”

  “Perfect? Come on, Jane. That doesn’t wash.”

  “You knew what you wanted and you went after it. I didn’t know anything, except how I felt about you. Your direction and intensity scared me. I thought I’d get lost inside of you and never find my way out.” She sighed. “That sounds silly.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for that. There was so little of me that I’d discovered. I felt that if I became a part of you, there would be nothing left. You wanted so much. What if I couldn’t do it?”