Chapter Nine #2
He spun and walked over to stand next to her. “And you haven’t? You dare to judge me, when you’re the one telling all the lies?”
“I’m sorry.”
“So you’ve said. I don’t care about you, or your apologies.
” He raised one hand to rub his temple and she flinched.
He didn’t care that she thought him capable of hitting her.
“That’s right, Jane. Be afraid. You can’t manipulate me anymore.
You’ve taken something precious from me and by God, you’ll pay. ”
* * *
By ten-thirty that night the storm had passed, leaving behind wet earth and clean damp air.
A few stars braved the clouds, peeking out and winking.
Now what? Jane asked herself for the thousandth time.
Did she leave, or did she stay? A soft breeze cooled her heated skin.
She shivered at the slight contact and pulled her knees up closer to her chest. Unlike Adam’s yard, hers didn’t contain as many trees.
From her seat on the front porch steps, she could see out to the street.
There wasn’t any traffic this late on a tiny street in Orchard.
A few houses glowed with lights from within, but most of her neighbors had already retired for the evening.
Her porch light didn’t chase away enough shadows to allow her to forget.
She felt as broken and battered as a board washed ashore from a shipwreck.
She supposed it was possible to have handled the situation worse than she had, but she couldn’t figure out how.
After Adam had threatened her, she’d fled the room.
Charlene had agreed to keep a bewildered Billie for the night.
That left Jane free to deal with her emotions and the tears that refused to be halted.
Every time she thought she couldn’t possibly cry anymore, she would start again.
Her life lay crumpled around her. She had no one to blame but herself.
Adam was right—so many of her choices had been wrong ones.
She had deprived him and Billie of each other.
Had she been a bad mother as well? She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her bent knees.
She recalled the months she’d struggled to make ends meet, to pay the rent and provide food and utilities for their tiny apartment.
Billie’s face flashed before her, the four-year-old’s tantrums when her mother had left for work.
Had she damaged Billie? Had she chosen incorrectly?
She was willing to admit to some of the blame, but all of it?
She groaned softly. She just didn’t know.
Was Adam right? Should she have come home? Was living in a big house better, even if that house didn’t have any love to fill it? Could he have learned to care about her and his child? Could she have lived with the knowledge that she was little more than an obligation?
She’d only ever wanted Adam to love her. That’s all. Not want her because she was appropriate, or easily trained, or because he’d felt obligated. She’d wanted to be loved. For herself. Was that wrong? Selfish? Wrapping her arms around her legs, she wished she could disappear.
From her left came the soft crunch of footsteps on the path between the two houses. Jane sat perfectly still, as if her lack of motion would make her invisible.
Adam. She sensed it was him even before he sat next to her and she could smell his after-shave and the unique male essence of his body.
“Go away,” she murmured, refusing to look up.
“I had dinner with Billie,” he said without warning.
Oh, God. Her heart froze in her chest. Had he—
“I didn’t tell her.”
Thank you, she prayed.
“I wanted to,” he said, anger still apparent in his voice. “I was going to blurt it out over the salad. I even thought about kidnapping her and running until you couldn’t find us.”
She turned her head so she could see him. He sat next to her on the steps of her front porch. Two feet separated them. He mimicked her pose—he’d drawn his legs up close to his chest and rested his arms on his knees.
“I couldn’t.” He looked at her then. She saw that she’d been wrong about hearing anger in his voice. It wasn’t rage—it was pain. The loss he’d suffered deepened the lines around his eyes and the hollows in his cheeks. “I don’t give a damn about you, but I couldn’t hurt her.”
“Thank you.”
He looked straight ahead. “Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have any ideas?”
“No.”
“You never planned to tell me.”
“Oh, Adam, I can’t convince you of it, but for what it’s worth, yes, I did want to tell you about Billie.
Today, believe it or not. Telling you is one of the reasons I came home.
I wanted her to grow up here with a family, like she’d always wanted.
But I didn’t know how to say it without risking it all.
I was afraid you’d use Billie to get back at me.
That you’d hate me so much that you’d punish her.
The longer I was gone, the more time passed, the harder it got. ”
“I do hate you.”
She forced herself not to cry out. Of course he did. But telling herself that he would and hearing the words were two very different things. He still got to her. She’d been foolish to think she’d escaped that.
“How dare you,” he said. “How dare you assume I would punish an innocent child.”
She stared at her lap. He sounded cold and angry. Worse, he sounded like a stranger. “You have every right to be furious with me,” she said. “I should have known you’d never do anything like that.”
“Why do you keep agreeing with me?”
“You’re telling the truth.”
“But it makes it damn hard to hold on to the rage.”
“Good.”
He turned toward her. The anger and the bravado were gone. “Damn it, Jane, you hurt me.”
She bowed her head. The tears flowed fast and hot, trickling down her arms and dampening a spot on her skirt.
“Say something,” he demanded.
“I…I can’t.”
He swore. She heard him slide on the step, then felt his hands on her arms, pulling her close.
He angled their bodies so that her head rested on his shoulder.
Their legs touched, from hip to knee. She clutched at his T-shirt, bunching the soft fabric in her hands.
The tears continued, replenished by the aching in her heart.
“I’m s-sorry,” she said, her voice cracking with a sob. “So sorry, Adam. I l—loved you so much. I never wanted to hurt you. Or B-Billie. I was afraid for her, I swear.”
“I know. Hush.” He enfolded her in his strength, rocking back and forth while she cried. The minutes passed. She struggled for control. Finally the tears subsided.
She sniffed and forced herself to straighten.
Unshed tears darkened his brown eyes. His words earlier in the day—his speech about stolen time and memories missed—had made her feel bad, but she hadn’t had the chance to really think about what he was saying.
Now, seeing him emotionally exposed for the first time in her life, she felt what he felt and knew that her crime was far greater than she’d imagined.
It hadn’t been a speech. He had lost all those times she’d taken for granted.
And even meeting Billie now couldn’t make up for that.
She’d cheated them both. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t forgive her; she’d never forgive herself.
He cupped her face and brushed away her tears with his thumbs. “Where do we go from here?” he asked, repeating his earlier question.
“I wish I knew.”
His touch comforted her. She didn’t deserve it, but couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Still, when Adam straightened, she forced herself to smile slightly and wipe her face.
“I guess we should tell Billie,” she said, shifting on the step.
“What is she going to say?”
“I don’t know.” Jane thought for a moment. “She’ll be happy about getting a dad. She’s wanted one since she figured out most kids have two parents. But she’ll be angry that I lied to her.”
“She’ll get over it.”
She smoothed her skirt over her knees. “That depends on you. Are you going to say things?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you going to tell her that I’m the worst mother since the invention of the institution, that I’ve deprived her of her birthright and family?” She closed her eyes and waited.
“You must think I’m a real bastard.”
Now it was her turn to be surprised. “No. Why would you think that?”
He shook his head. “You don’t have a very high opinion of me.”
“You’re still angry and I thought you might—”
“I don’t plan to bad-mouth you to Billie. She’s the innocent one in all this. She might be pleased to take my side at first, but in the end it would only confuse her.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not doing it for you.”
Right. She couldn’t allow herself to forget that.
“What about her name?” he asked.
“You don’t like Billie?”
“Her last name. You didn’t give her mine.”
“I didn’t want you to know. It would have been pretty obvious if I’d named her Belle Charlene Barrington.”
He sprang to his feet. “You named her Belle Charlene? After Aunt Charlene?”
“Yes. Is that okay?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t even know my kid’s name.”
Jane wanted to bite off her tongue. She’d already hurt him enough—couldn’t she stop saying things without thinking? “Adam, I—”
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t say anything. We’ll deal with the name thing later. What about custody? We live next door, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Am I listed as a father on the birth certificate?”
He was moving too fast. All this talk about living arrangements and legalities. “Yes, but we need to deal with this later.”
“Why? Are you going to disappear again?”
“I didn’t come all the way back just to leave. I had planned to have a life here with my daughter.”
“My daughter.”
“Our daughter.” What was going on with him? Why did he have to—
Control. He was trying to control an uncontrollable situation. Of course. What else would Adam do?