Chapter Two #3
“Fine Southern drama.” Charlene’s blue eyes glittered with suppressed laughter. She sobered quickly. “Sorry, dear. I understand your concern, but you are back, and you’re going to tell him about Billie, and everything will be fine.”
Jane twisted her fingers together. “I’m not going to tell him.”
“What?”
“I mean, I am, but not just yet.”
The lump grew again, pressing against her ribs and making it difficult to breathe.
Dear God, she prayed, then paused. What to ask for?
Forgiveness? She could use a strong dose of that.
Common sense? That went without saying. Show me the right thing for my daughter, she thought.
But would God listen? Would anyone? After what she’d done?
No one had told her guilt tasted so empty. That the hollowness would linger on her tongue, as though the emptiness was too much for her heart to bear, and the excess would seep out into her body, stealing joy and promise.
Charlene touched her arm. “Then why are you here if not to tell Adam about his daughter?”
“I am. I will. I thought—” She squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t block out the past. “I thought it would be so easy. I’d show up, tell Adam I was sorry and he’d forgive me.
Then I’d introduce Billie and we’d live as neighbors.
Like a TV sitcom.” She paused, feeling overwhelmed.
“I’ve been a fool. It’s not going to be like that. It can’t be. I should never have come.”
“If your furniture is being delivered Monday, then it’s a little late for second thoughts.”
Despite herself, Jane smiled. “Always practical. And this from a woman who still claims to be raised by wolves.”
Charlene straightened. “I was raised by wolves.”
“You got lost in the woods for a day. The family dog was with you. That’s hardly being raised by wolves.”
A smile twitched at one corner of Charlene’s mouth. “Dogs are related to wolves. And you’re avoiding the real issue.”
“I know.”
Jane rose and walked to the window of the guest room.
The sultry night air drifted past the curtains, carried lazily by a sleepy breeze.
Familiar fragrances brought back memories.
Jasmine for evenings, flower blossoms for day.
The scents clung to her skin, a sticky residue from the humidity.
So different from the life she had built, yet so right.
“I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished,” she said, leaning on the window frame. “It was tough at first, financially, I mean. Billie was a good baby, but any infant is expensive.”
The evening noises began, the screeching and chirps sounding like an orchestra being tuned.
“I couldn’t go back to college until Billie started school three years ago,” she continued.
“But I never gave up the dream of teaching. I got my credential a couple of months ago. My parents offered me their house here, then I got the job at Orchard Junior High. It seemed like a sign. And a chance.”
“To let Billie meet her father?”
Jane touched the lace curtains. Behind her, Charlene waited silently.
“Yes,” she admitted at last. “It’s what Billie wants more than anything. A father. But I hadn’t counted on what it would be like coming here, seeing him, the house, knowing that I’d never escape. I owe her, I owe them both. And all I want to do is turn around and run back to San Francisco.”
“What does this have to do with telling or not telling Adam?”
She released the curtain and turned to face the older woman. “I don’t want to compound my mistakes. If I tell him and he’s not interested in being a father, she’ll be hurt worse than before.”
Charlene frowned. “You can’t hide the truth forever. This is Orchard, dear. Small Southern towns are notoriously bad at keeping secrets.”
“I know, and I’ll tell him. In my own time. But first, I want to know he wants her. I want to be sure that he won’t punish her for the mistakes I’ve made.”
“We don’t always have the luxury of time.”
“I know. I’m so afraid.”
“Because you’ve kept him from his daughter for eight years?”
The dart hit home. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t feel like I had any other choice at the time.”
“You could have come home. Adam would have taken care of you.”
“I didn’t want that. I’d always been the quiet one, the obedient child.
” She tucked her hands in her pocket. “Adam was always ready to guide me. To tell me what was right for me, whether I wanted the information or not. I was afraid of him—of us.” She shrugged.
“I ran. Foolishly. And when I couldn’t run anymore, I stopped. Only to find out I was pregnant.”
“You could have come back then.”
Jane remembered the cool fog of her first San Francisco morning.
It had taken her almost a month to make her way across the country.
As her stomach had churned with the lingering effects of nausea, and the tears left cold trails down her cheeks, she’d imagined going home.
She’d humiliated Adam in the most devastating way possible, but if she told him about the baby, he would have taken her back.
For several hours, she’d stood staring out at the ocean.
Her fear of going home, of giving up like her mother, had been greater than her fear of going forward.
She’d left Orchard to prove to herself she had the strength to make it on her own.
Returning at the first sign of trouble would have meant losing forever.
“My pride wouldn’t let me come back,” she said.
“Pride makes a cold bedfellow.”
So Charlene wasn’t going to accept the half truth. “I wasn’t sure I mattered to him,” she said softly, confessing the most painful secret of all. “I didn’t want to be an obligation.”
“He loved you.”
“Did he?” She stared over her friend’s head at a landscape hanging above the bed.
The warm colors—the reds and yellows of the flowers, the mossy green of the trees—blended perfectly with the wallpaper.
“Or did he know I’d be easily trained? A perfect banker’s wife.
Quiet, malleable, well mannered. Sometimes I thought he had a list that he checked whenever he met a woman. I was the most suitable.”
“It wasn’t that way.” The older woman frowned. “You make him sound unfeeling. Adam is a passionate man.”
Jane dropped her gaze to the hardwood floor. “I suppose with Billie as proof, I’d be silly to deny that.” But her memories blurred about that night and the others like it. She’d been so young—too young. And too much in love. “I would have given him my soul. He was more interested in a hostess.”
Charlene shook her head. “You’re remembering him with the eyes of a child. Perhaps Adam had offered you his soul and you didn’t notice.”
“I loved him. I would have noticed.”
Charlene watched her closely. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had been formed by smiles rather than displeasure. Heavy makeup and the brightly colored hair couldn’t disguise her softhearted nature. “Tell me about Billie.”
Jane chuckled. “I’d like to tell you I’ve done a fine job with her, but I can’t take the credit. Billie is…Billie.”
“Her father’s daughter?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, remembering the first time her child had looked at her with Adam’s defiant gaze.
The pain had been unexpected but she welcomed the connection with the man she had once loved.
“I see him in her eyes.” She moved to the bed and resumed her seat.
“But Billie is so full of life and Adam—he’s not anything.
It’s as if I’m an old acquaintance who has shown up for a weekend visit. ”
“What did you expect?”
Jane glanced down at Charlene’s hands clasped in her lap. A few more age spots marred the pale skin, some wrinkles bunched at the knuckles, but other than that, these were the hands she remembered from her youth. The shiny rings glittered, the bracelets tinkled and rattled.
“I thought he’d hate me,” she said at last, voicing the fear that had dogged her since leaving the West Coast.
“For nine years? Everyone has to let go sometime. Change. You did. Perhaps he did as well.”
“He never married.”
“That’s true.” Charlene glanced at her. “But he has been involved with several women. Adam is many things, but not a saint. Or a martyr. He didn’t wait for you, Jane. That I am sure of.”
“I know.”
The lie sat heavily on her tongue. Logically, she knew he hadn’t, but there had been a tiny piece inside her heart, the spot where dreams hid.
Every year Charlene had sent a letter in her Christmas card to Jane’s mother.
Every year there had been no mention of Adam marrying.
It didn’t mean anything, she told herself, even as she dared to wonder if it did.
“You’ll want me to keep quiet for now?” Charlene asked, smoothing a hand over her hair.
“I just need a little time.”
“Don’t take too long. He’ll figure it out on his own, and if he doesn’t, someone from town will. Better for him and Billie if he hears it from you.”
Jane again fought the guilt that filled her with empty sadness. “There’s a lot at stake. I could lose Billie.”
“Never that.” The older woman smiled. “She’ll always be your daughter. And there’s so much you could gain. Adam—”
“Mo-om, I’m shriveling up in here,” Billie called from the bathroom.
“I’m coming.” She picked up the nightgown and walked into the bathroom. “All clean?”
“I’m a prune.”
Billie stepped out of the tub and into the fluffy towel Jane held for her. She wrapped the terry cloth around her child’s body and began to rub. The scent of soap and freshly cleaned little girl tickled her nose.
“I love you, honey,” she said, giving her a squeeze.
Billie eyed her suspiciously. “I heard you talking to someone. You aren’t planning anything awful, are you? Not like those singing lessons?”
“No singing lessons,” she promised.
“Good. Then I love you, too.”
“Little girls shouldn’t barter their affection. May I come in?” Charlene hovered outside the door.
“Sure.” Billie brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I wasn’t bartering, I was checking. She always wants me to do girl stuff. Yuk.”
“Perhaps because you are a girl,” Charlene said.
“It’s not my fault.” Jane handed Billie the nightgown. She pulled it over her head and wiggled until it dropped past her knees. “Look at this. There’s a kitten on it!” She pointed at the offending appliqué. “I’ve told her a thousand times I want pajamas.”
“This was a gift from your grandmother,” Jane said, reaching for a comb.
“Let me.” Charlene took the comb and settled on the lid of the toilet. After positioning Billie between her knees, she began to tame her short cut. “I am so looking forward to you discovering boys.”
“Why?” Billie sounded suspicious.
Jane turned away to hide her grin.
“One day you’ll look up and the boy you thought was a terrific—” She glanced at Jane.
“Catcher,” she supplied helpfully.
“Catcher…will be a charming, handsome young man.”
“Not to me.” Billie cocked her head. “You’re not married. Mom told me.”
“I am not like most women. I prefer my men—”
“Charlene,” Jane warned.
“I was just going to say that I prefer them appreciative.”
“I don’t understand,” Billie said. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.
“You will,” Charlene said. “One day.” She leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’m so pleased you’re here. Both of you.”
“We can still be friends, even if you don’t know much about baseball.” Billie wrapped her arms around Charlene’s neck. Jane saw her friend hug her back.
“Thank you,” Charlene whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Now, off to sleep.”
Jane settled her daughter in the big bed, handed her her worn teddy bear and plugged in the night-light she’d carted clear across the country. She and Charlene kissed her, then moved quietly into the hall.
“She’s darling,” Charlene said as Jane closed the door. “And you look as tired as she did. It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jane thanked her, walked to her door and pushed it open.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“I will keep quiet about—” she motioned toward Billie’s room “—everything. At least until you figure out the real reason you came back.”