Whose Baby Part 13

You're not the kind of woman who would lie. A barrier of wariness inside her sagged and finally collapsed. Was it possible that her newfound trust was a two-way street? That they really could be friends?

"He never completely trusted me." Her fingers curled into a fist and Adam let her go. She tucked her hand on her lap, under the table. It seemed to tingle, as if he were still touching her. "Brian would accuse me of not loving him." She made a face. "I'd feel so guilty. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. My mother and I love each other, but we're not ... not physically demonstrative. You know?"

Adam nodded.

"Maybe that was it, I'd think, and I'd force myself to hug and kiss even when it embarra.s.sed me in public. But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. He'd come into the bookstore where I worked, and be mad because I was laughing with some customer. He'd decide we hadn't really been talking about books, and accuse me of sneaking around behind his back. It was a nightmare."

"Was he abusive?" Adam asked quietly, but with a flat, dangerous note in his voice.

"No. Oh, no." She sneaked a look at his face, set in hard lines. Her nails bit into her palms. "Brian's not that bad a guy. I just ... lacked whatever it took to make him feel secure."

"Youlacked?" Adam growled in the back of his throat. "Seems to me, he's the one with the problem."

"I tried to tell myself that. Our marriage got harder and harder, the more I had to think constantly about what I was really feeling and how he'd interpret the way I was acting. Only, then one day I realized-" here was the hard part "-he was right. I didn't really love him. Not heart and soul. The way he claimed to love me."Lynnshrugged with difficulty, the next words hurting her throat. "I shouldn't have married him. I remember getting cold feet the night before the wedding, but how could I tell him I'd made a mistake then? And my friends all laughed and said everyone chickens out at the last minute, so I decided it was normal. But I think I'd been pretending from the very beginning. He'd say, 'I can't live without you,' and I'd tell him the same, but because he expected me to, not because I had any understanding of what that meant. Until I had Sh.e.l.ly, I couldn't imagine how it would feel to fear losing the one person in the world who was essential to me."Lynnmet Adam's gaze again in appeal. "I should have felt that way about him, too, shouldn't I?"

"How old were you when you got married?"

Taken by surprise, she had to think. "Um ... twenty-two. It was the summer after I graduated from college."

"That's pretty young," Adam said conversationally. "Maybe too young to feel something so profound."

Unwilling to grasp such an easy excuse,Lynnchallenged, "How old were you and Jennifer?"

"I was twenty-five,she was twenty-two like you."

"Did you know, deep inside, that she was the one person for you?"

Adam moved in the obvious discomfiture of a man put on the spot. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, and the chair sc.r.a.ped on the vinyl floor. "I'm not sure men put things in such poetic terms," he finally said. "I wanted her to be my wife. To me, that was a commitment. Once you're in it, you make it work."

Did that mean he disapproved of her because she was divorced? "I thought that, too. Brian was the one who moved out. I wasn't giving him what he needed. I think," she said a little wryly, "he'd found someone who could. Although he hasn't remarried."

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"But it was my fault."

Adam uttered an obscenity that shocked her eyes wide-open. "Get real," he said bluntly. "If the jerk had really loved you, he'd have worked to earn your love, not tried to extract it by whining. He'd have been there with you through thick and thin, not hunting for what he 'needed' elsewhere. And he sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't have abandoned you financially now, whatever came before. That's not love, even past tense."

Lynnblinked,then smiled tentatively. "Thank you. I think."

"You're welcome." The frown that had begun to seem perpetual had returned to his brow. He stood. "I'm going to call it a night."

Her gaze found the copper wall clock. Barely nine? What he really meant was,he'd had enough of their tetea tete.

"Good idea." She sounded as repulsively chirpy as a morning talk show host. "I'm in the middle of a book I'm enjoying. Here, just let me rinse this plate off..."

"I'll finish cleaning up." His tone allowed no argument. In the confines of the kitchen, his sheer size unnerved her. Except for the three years with Brian, she had never lived with a man, much less one as large and imposing as Adam Landry.

Murmuring disjointed thank-yousand good-nights,Lynnfled. Somehow, she feared, she'd blown this conversation, either disgusting him or boring him, she didn't know which. What had possessed her to go on and on about her marriage? Why not just say,Brian was the jealous type and I could never satisfy him? Why admit that her ex-husband's suspicions had been right? Why bare her soul and confess her sense of inadequacy? And this to a daunting man who held a power near to life and death over her?

She peeked in at the girls and saw that Rose had scooted over to cuddle with Sh.e.l.ly. Both heads shared a single pillow. Tears stung her eyes at the sight of her two daughters, as close as the sisters they weren't. Lynnwent on to the bathroom and brushed her teeth with unnecessary force. In the guest room, she stripped quickly and pulled her nightgown over her head. Even betweenflannel sheets with a comforter pulled high, she felt cold.

And lonely, although she and Sh.e.l.ly wouldn't drive away until tomorrow afternoon.

"Merry Christmas, Honey."Lynn's mother heaped the last wrapped gift under the small Douglas fir that just fit in the corner by the window. Downstairs in the bookstore was another, more elegantly decorated tree, a n.o.ble fir wrapped in gold and mauve. This one had tiny lights, a string of popcorn and handmade ornaments interspersed with a few red and green gla.s.s b.a.l.l.s. Because Sh.e.l.ly had helped trim the tree, the ornaments were cl.u.s.tered where a three-year-old could most easily reach, butLynndidn't care.

"I'm so glad you're here." She sat at one end of the couch and curled her feet under her, contentedly watching her mother. She began a wistful "I wish..." before thinking better of it.

But mothers had a way of finis.h.i.+ng sentences. "Rosewere here, too?"

Yes. Oh, yes, her heart cried. She said only, "I'd like you to meet her."

Irene Miller had her daughter's hair without the red highlights, in her case cut short into a curly cap shot with a few gray hairs she ignored. A little plump, she was a placid, quiet woman who had seemed satisfied with her life as a single mother and secretary when Lynn was growing up. Lynn didn't remember her ever even dating, so it had been a shock when she called, during Lynn's soph.o.m.ore year at the University of Oregon, to announce that she was engaged to be married. Hal Miller had been a guest lecturer at the university where she was a departmental secretary.

"He absolutely insisted I have dinner with him," she had said with a breathless laugh, as though still surprised at either his determination or her own willingness to be swept away, Lynn never knew which. "We've seen each other often since then."

Lynn had grown very fond of her stepfather, who had insisted this afternoon that Sh.e.l.ly was going to take him to the beach. He had winked conspiratorially over her head; today was Christmas Eve, and Sh.e.l.ly was beside herself with excitement. Wasn't Grandma going to put presents under the tree?she'd asked twenty or thirty times. Mama had promised she could open one this evening. When could she open it? Now?

But she was young enough to be diverted, and the two had gone off very happily into a misty, chilly day, both so bundled up they looked as if they were heading for the Arctic.

Hearing other mothers whining about how their husbands never took over the child care and gave them a break, Lynn usually wondered why they wanted one. She enjoyed Sh.e.l.ly's company. Sh.e.l.ly's naps gave her a little time to herself. When she absolutely had to run errands without her daughter, baby-sitting was available. But she had to admit, in the week since her mother and stepfather had arrived, she was discovering how nice it was to have someone else cheerfully offer to go to the grocery store, whip up dinner or take Sh.e.l.ly away for an hour here or there. She could get spoiled.

Her mother rose easily, smoothing her slacks as she admired the Christmas tree. Then she came and sat on the arm of the couch beside Lynn. Although Lynn had told Adam the truth Irene Miller's warmth was in her smile and words more than in her rarely bestowed hugs this time her mother put out a gentle hand and smoothed her daughter's hair from her face.

"You said he might bring her for a visit next week."

"Yes." Lynn smiled with difficulty. "Of course."

Her mother studied her worriedly. "Will you get used to seeing her only sometimes? Or are you always going to regret that you didn't share more of her life?"

"I don't know." Lynn had wondered the same thing, but it wasn't as if she had a choice. "What can we do?"

"You're lucky that he wants only the best for both girls, too."

"I know I am," Lynn said on a sigh. "I was so sure at first that he'd try to take Sh.e.l.ly from me. But he really does adore Rose. He calls her his Rosebud, did I tell you that?" Of course she had. She'd talked of littlebut her newly discovered daughter this past week. Her mother must be getting sick of hearing her go on and on! But she couldn't seem to help herself. "I think he really, truly does want the same thing as I do for the girls."

"Whatever that is," Mrs. Miller said softly.

Trust her mother to figure out how muddledLynn's dreams still were. But what could she and Adam do other than experiment until one day the routine was right?

"Do you think Sh.e.l.ly is ready to find out Adam is her father?"Lynnasked, as much for rea.s.surance as in the belief her mother really had the answers.

Mrs. Miller made a face. "Is anyone ever ready to find out something like that?"

"I wouldn't have been,"Lynnadmitted. "In fact..."

"In fact?"

She was sorry she'd begun. Or was she? Now that she had a child of her own, she wondered more than ever about her own father.

"Do you know, I used to imagine all kinds of things about who my fatherwas. "

Her mother stood and went to the tree, moving an ornament from one branch to another as if she'd suddenly noticed a lack of balance. Her back toLynn, she said almost casually, "Oh? Who was he? A movie star?"

"That crossed my mind, along with a cowboy or a spy or Roberta's dad. Do you remember him? He was ... oh, a TV repairman, I think."

Mrs. Miller didn't laugh at the very idea asLynnhad expected. In fact, she said nothing.

Twining her fingers on her lap,Lynncontinued steadily, "But what I finally decided was that you'd gone to a sperm bank."

That one did get a reaction. Her mother spun around. "What?"

"Women do it."Lynnwatched her carefully. "I thought maybe you were single and decided to have a baby. And that, well, you chose what qualities you wanted and didn't know anything else about the donor.Which is why you never talked about him. My father."

Her mother's laugh was semi-hysterical. "Oh, dear! Oh, I should have guessed that you might think of something like that." She seemed to sag, still standing there in the middle ofLynn's tiny living room. "Do you want to know the truth?"

"Yes,"Lynnsaid quietly. "I always have, you know."

But never so much as lately, she realized. Ties of blood weren't necessary to love, she had discovered, but they did exert a pull she had never understood.

"He was a married man." Shame crept over Irene Miller's cheeks, although she metLynn's gaze. "Not your friend Roberta's father, although he might as well have been. It was ... it was something that should never have happened. I suppose I was lonely, and ... if it had been just a one-night stand, a case of being swept away, I could excuse myself. But actually I ... I slept with him several times."

"Oh, Mom,"Lynnwhispered. "Things like that happen.He was the one who was married!"

Her mother's chin lifted with conscious dignity. "I can only be responsible for my own decisions, and I knew better. I despised myself, but I was lonely and he was such a kind man! I thought his marriage must be in trouble." Her smile was faint and tinged with remembered bitterness. "But after a couple of weeks, when he'd said nothing about leaving his wife or our future, I realized that he had no such thing in mind, I was the one with foolish dreams. I quit my job he was my boss. He probably started a ... a fling with the next secretary. Very likely he made a habit of them."

"And you found out you were pregnant."

A single woman with no great job skills and distant parents who were unlikely to help, she must have been terrified.

This smile was more genuine, but her mother's eyes were misty. "I never regretted what happened, not the way I should have, because out of it I had you. Please believe that."

"Oh, Mom!"Lynncatapulted off the sofa and wrapped her arms around her mother, who hugged her back although such embraces weren't commonplace for them. "I do believe you, because I feel the same about Sh.e.l.ly. It scares me sometimes. I think that I should have realized I didn't love Brian enough. I shouldn't have married him. But if I hadn't..." She s.h.i.+vered and pulled back a little. "Then I wouldn't have Sh.e.l.ly."

An odd thought sifted into her mind. No, she wouldn't have Sh.e.l.ly, but Adam would. The mix-up would never have happened that night at the hospital.Rose was the child who wouldn't have been born. Quiet, sweet-faced Rose.

The very idea was equally unendurable.

A thunder of feet on the stairs gave warning before the door burst open and Sh.e.l.ly called, "Me and Grampa are home! Did Grandma ...oooh ," she breathed, when she saw the bright packages spilling out from under the tree. Puzzlement replaced the dazed joy in her eyes when she saw her mother's face. "Why is Mommy crying?"

"Oh."Lynndashed at her cheeks. "Happiness. I'm just being silly,punkin ." And feeling dizzily as if she had been remade in a new form. She had a father. She would never meet him, but now sheknew, which seemed to matter.

Her daughter frowned. "But Grandma's crying, too."

Hal Miller laid hands on his small step-granddaughter's shoulders. "I think she's crying from happiness, too."

"But I cry when I'm hurt. Or scared. Not when I'm happy," Sh.e.l.ly objected.

"Grown-ups do sometimes," Irene said. She gaveLynnanother quick, spontaneous hug. "When they realize how lucky they are."

"Right."Lynnblinked back more tears that threatened despite her smile. "You know what, sweetheart? I think this might be a good time for you to open that present."

Sh.e.l.ly squealed and flung herself to her knees in front of the tree. "I want thebest present!"

Hal, gentle, balding man that he was, ignored the undercurrents of emotion and settled onto the sofa with a smile.Lynn's mother went down on her knees and joined her granddaughter in a colloquy about which present would be the most satisfying, considering she got only one tonight.

Lynnstood back and watched, fighting a strange desire to cry. She had a successful business, a home, her parents, and Sh.e.l.ly. It wasn't as if her real daughter was abandoned in an orphanage or lived in a home without warmth and love. There would be a beautiful tree in Rose's living room with ten times the presents under it that Sh.e.l.ly had. Her grandparents perhaps both sets of grandparents would be there tonight, and, best of all, her daddy would do everything in his power to insure that her Christmas was joyous.

Once upon a time,Lynnhad only wanted to be certain her child was happy and loved. Why, oh why, was that knowledge no longer enough?

Why did grief swathe her in gray that took the glory out of the bright sparkling lights on the tree and the wondering "ooh" in her daughter's voice as the wrappings gave way to her still-clumsy fingers? Why did she mourn, only because Rose was not here?

Chapter 9.

Rose's small handcrept into Adam's. "Do you think Sh.e.l.ly got good presents, too?"

"I bet she did," Adam said heartily, although he felt sick looking at the torrent of ripped paper and bows and ribbon covering the floor. Toys and new clothes and books formed islands in the midst of the chaos. No, he knew d.a.m.n well Sh.e.l.ly didn't get as much.

But then, Rose didn't need any of it. He'd bought less this Christmas and had made a point of taking Rose shopping to choose gifts for children whose parents couldn't. Somewhat to his surprise, given her egocentric age, she had helped him, earnestly debating which Barbie would be the most fun if you could only have one, which remote control car was the coolest. She'd learned that word lately from bigger kids at the preschool, piping up in her little girl voice, "Cool."

Adam's relative restraint in the gift department was meaningless, however. Her two sets of grandparents had come bearing carloads of goodies. On the one hand, he was glad: even Jennifer's parents weren't turning their backs on Rose. Although Angela had given him a couple of wrapped gifts to set aside for Sh.e.l.ly, she hadn't stinted where Rose was concerned.

On the other hand, he wished they had more time for Rose instead of so much money. Rose would have loved to go to their house one day a week instead of to preschool. But no, they were too busy. Visits instead were special occasions that usually cost a h.e.l.l of a lot and took the place of something deeper.

He'd begun to realize that theMcCloskeys must have raised their only child in much the same way. If Jenny had had a flaw, it was her liking for luxuries and for her own way. She pouted with such charm, somehow he'd never minded, but just lately he had begun to wonder whether that might not have changed. He felt disloyal that the thought had even edged into his mind but couldn't dislodge it.

Would Jenny have had the patience to be a good mother? Or had she looked forward to having a baby like a child wanting a doll? Of course she was going to do it all herself; she'd read a million books and planned every glorious moment. What she hadn't foreseen was that having a sobbing baby waking you every couple of hours all night long, night after exhaustingnight, was not glorious. Those parenting books hadn't showcased a photo of a three-year-old'sstinky diaper. The whining of a tired child was mentioned, certainly, but the boy in the picture was so cute the reader couldn't imagine how explosively tired and angry and tense a parent could get.

Sometimes G.o.d help him his imagination balked at the idea of his Jenny coping. If she'd lived, by now they might have a nanny who would present a sweet-mannered, clean child for a good-night kiss.

He tried to convince himself he was doing Jenny an injustice.

Once again, he shoved the disloyal thoughts under a pile of mental garbage that he hoped would keep them from surfacing again.

"We'll see Sh.e.l.ly next week," he reminded Rose. "You can show each other your new stuff. And exchange presents."

Rosebud's fingers tightened and her eyes pleaded. "I wish we could see her today."

So didhe .