She had missed such conversation dreadfully. Lynn and her mother had always been good friends. Until Adam, Lynn had never been able to talk to anyone the way she could to her mother. In college, she’d had friends and roommates, of course, but all of them were so busy with finals and labs and boyfriends, and really everyone at that age was so self-centered, she realized now, that nobody listened very well. Probably including her.
Brian was a natural storyteller, but the stories were all about himself. His prowess as a high school and college sports star, his adventures mountain climbing and skiing, his starring role in campus theater productions. She had been fascinated and awestruck and grateful that he wanted to be with her, but after the first year she began to notice that he wasn’t very interested in her dreams or successes, and he’d cut off her attempts to discuss politics or philosophy or a book she had read by reaching for the remote control or grabbing his jacket and saying casually over his shoulder, "I promised Cranston I’d whip him at one-on-one. You were just going to read or something anyway, weren’t you?" He always said it that way: just. You’re going to do something unimportant, dull.
Adam enjoyed reading as much as she did. Lynn was flattered when she discovered him reading a book she’d mentioned loving. Since then, he had read several based on her recommendations. He didn’t always feel about them the same way she did, which she didn’t mind. They’d had some rousing arguments.
The television was rarely on here, she’d discovered. The girls watched a couple of favorite shows and, naturally, Rose had a huge collection of movies mostly bought by Grandma McCloskey, but Adam limited how much Rose could watch a day, as Lynn had always done with Shelly. He religiously watched the news, primarily because world events had such a bearing on the next day’s stock market. A revolution in some tiny country half a world away would impact the U.S. economy because a raw material for manufacturing came from there. She was impressed by Adam’s instant grasp of the import of such news. Obscure political events took on meaning for her, too. She found that she read the newspapers and watched the television news with more interest now.
Only occasionally did she bump against a closed gate beyond which she wasn’t welcome. A very few topics brought stinging reminders that their closeness was illusion.
Tonight, for example, Lynn curled her legs under her at one end of the sofa and said, "I forgot to tell you that your mother called today."
Adam laid down his book willingly. "What did she want?"
"Nothing special. I think she just wanted to chat." Lynn frowned, trying to remember. "She didn’t leave a message."
"What did you ‘chat’ about?" He looked unwillingly fascinated. "I didn’t know my mother knew how."
“Oh, she has an opening in a San Francisco art gallery next weekend. She asked if I’d like to come over and use her potter’s wheel and kiln." As explanation, Lynn added, "I’d told her I took a couple of years of ceramics in college. I loved using a wheel."
"Ah." He sounded amused and a little bitter. "The way to her heart."
"Did you learn?"
"She tried," Adam said shortly.
"Did you?"
"Probably not." He laughed without much humor. "I felt about her studio like most kids do about a baby brother. It was my competitor for her attention, and it always won." This smile, though crooked, became more relaxed, more genuine. "Besides, I have not a grain of artistic ability. I made the ugliest pots you’ve ever seen."
"It’s odd that we were both only children. I felt a little more secure than you did, though."
"Were you lonely?" He looked as if he really wanted to know.
"No." Why hadn’t she been? "We were such good friends. Mom didn’t seem lonely, so how could I be?" Lynn had never told this to anyone, but now she admitted, "I was terribly shocked when Mom got married. It made me wonder—oh, this sounds terrible..."
Adam finished for her, "You wondered if she’d ever really been as happy as you thought she was."
"Yes." Lynn made a face. "I suppose everyone grows up and looks at their parents and one day realizes maybe they weren’t quite who you thought they were. If that isn’t too muddled a sentence."
“Clear as Perrier," Adam assured her with a grin. "Except ‘everyone’ doesn’t have to reevaluate a parent, because some of us knew ours. Mine are just who I concluded they were."
"Are they?"
He went still. "What’s that mean?"
"Just that..." She hesitated. "I had the impression your mother was probing to find out whether I’d be a suitably loving wife for you. She seemed concerned."
"Concerned," he repeated flatly.
"Some people aren’t very demonstrative."
He gave a short, hard laugh. "My mother is not demonstrative."
"You think she doesn’t love you?" But he was so quick to hug Rose, to smooth away a tear or tickle her into laughter. He couldn’t possibly have learned that from books!
"I think she feels an obligation."
"Well, I think you’re wrong," Lynn said stoutly. "She was definitely suspicious of me." She thought for a moment. "I guess that’s natural since she knows why we got married."
"Then she doesn’t have any reason to worry about you breaking my heart, does she?"
"No." She spoke quietly, not letting him see that he had hurt her. "You’re right. Maybe I misunderstood."
Say, You could break my heart, she begged him without words, her gaze lowered to the pale amber of her cinnamon apple tea. Say...
Gentler, his voice broke her pitiful thoughts. "You’re not unhappy, are you?"
“Me?" Lynn made herself look up with wide eyes, as if astonished at the question. "Why would I be unhappy?" Because I love you, and you don’t love me, she answered her own question.
"Some women are romantics." His tone was odd.
She would have sworn she wasn’t one of them. She had never intended to remarry; she was incapable of the depth of passion and commitment a man would want in a wife.
She was an idiot, Lynn thought, and fully deserved the fix she’d gotten herself into.
"Not me," she claimed, and took a calm sip of her tea.
She felt his gaze resting on her and would have given almost anything to know what he was thinking. But for some peculiar reason her emotions seemed close to the surface. If she had met his eyes just then, she might not have been able to keep her secrets.
And she must. She must! She was so lucky, had so much, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to let herself ache for the little that Adam couldn’t give her.
"Did I tell you what Rose said today?" she asked with a smile so bright it felt brittle.
Without moving a muscle, Adam relaxed. Lynn sensed it with every fiber of her being. He had feared she would ask him something he couldn’t answer, or didn’t want to answer. Like, Can I break your heart? Or even, Are you happy?
Instead she was deliberately reminding him of what they had in common: their children.
He laughed in the right places at her story, told one of his own, then commented on the book he was reading. The evening was ordinary, pleasant; outwardly both were comfortable.
After turning off the lights and going upstairs to bed, Lynn sighed and turned away from Adam as if already half-asleep.
They could be content, even happy, without both being deeply, passionately in love. And so she reminded herself again: enjoy what you have, be grateful for Shelly and Rose’s sake, and don’t grieve for what you can’t have.
Hot tears, falling silently, wet her pillowcase.
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. H
is 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.
For the Girls' Sake Page 19
