A Dad for Billie (17 page)

She snapped her head up and glared at him. “You did, Mr. High and Mighty.” She pointed her finger toward his chest. “The day you coerced me into your bed.”

“Don’t give me that. I never did anything you didn’t want.”

“Now who’s lying? I wasn’t ready. You scared me. I would never have told you no, and you took advantage of that.”

A small measure of guilt joined his rage. “What are you saying? Are you accusing me of something?”

She held his gaze. “No. I’m telling you we both made choices we’ve come to regret.”

“You regret Billie?”

“Never.”

“Then what?”

The sound of rain filled the room, the steady drumming from the roof, the drip-drip off the porch covering. In the distance, he heard the rumble of thunder.

“I should have said no. Even though we were engaged, I wasn’t ready to be your lover. I should have told you.” She turned away and gripped the windowsill. “Aren’t you curious, Adam, about how I came to be pregnant? After all, you’re the one who decided it was time for us to go all the way, so you took me to the doctor and waited while I was fitted for a diaphragm. You’re the one who drove me to the next town, because I was too shy to get the prescription filled here in Orchard.”

He didn’t like the way the conversation had shifted. This was supposed to be about what
she’d
done. She’s the one who’d lied. Who’d had Billie. He had to focus on that. Instead the past intruded.

“I don’t care about any of this,” he said.

“I didn’t use it.” She spoke quietly.

“What?”

“The diaphragm. I couldn’t.”

“That’s the most ridiculous—”

“I was embarrassed.”

He turned away and swore.

“That doesn’t change anything, Adam.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t talk to you about anything.”

“Then what the hell were you doing marrying me?”

“I didn’t, did I?”

That one hit below the belt. He struggled to regroup his thoughts. “I’m not the villain in this piece. You’re the one who kept the secrets.”

“Only one.”

“Oh, yeah, just the fact that you were having my child. Is that why you ran? Because you found out you were pregnant?”

“No.”

He raked one hand through his hair. He couldn’t deal with this. Too much information in too short a time. He felt like exploding or lashing out or—“When?” he asked. “When did you figure it out?”

“When I got to San Francisco.” She continued to stare at the windowsill. Lightning ripped across the sky. The brief flash lit up the room. Three seconds later, a boom shook the house.

“Why didn’t you come home then? I would have—”

“Would have what? Married me? After I ran out on you? What was there to come home to? This town, where everyone would know I was a pregnant teenager? You didn’t want a baby, Adam. Why else would you have gone to all that trouble with the birth control? We’d never talked about kids.”

“Of course I wanted children. Maybe not right away, but that doesn’t give you the right to choose for me. Do you think I would have abandoned you?”

She leaned her forehead against the windowsill. “No.”

He hadn’t expected that to be her answer. He glanced at her, then began to pace the length of the parlor. The marble floors gleamed as he strode across them. He reached the fireplace and turned to face her.

“I don’t understand. If you didn’t think I’d abandon you, then what was the problem?”

“I couldn’t come back with Billie. My pride wouldn’t let me. I’d run out on the wedding. What sort of person would I be if I’d then come back because I was pregnant? Yes, you would have taken me in, but what was between us had already been determined. We would have had nothing but obligation.”

“That’s a tidy rationalization of your actions.”

She sighed. “I deserve everything you’re saying and I’m willing to listen if it makes you feel better. But don’t let your anger hide the truth. Telling you about the baby would have meant you’d be there, but only because you had to be.” She looked out the window and into the storm. “You didn’t care about the relationship anymore. If you’d really wanted me, you would have come after me. You never did.”

If you’d really wanted me, you wouldn’t have left, he thought, surprised that her leaving still had the power to hurt him. He should be grateful that he’d learned the lesson so early. Given a chance, people you love will leave you.

“I would have been the perfect banker’s wife,” she said. With one finger, she traced the trail of a raindrop against the glass. Another clap of thunder shook the house. “Young, easily trained. I wasn’t important enough to you. I realized that before the wedding. That’s why I ran. And when I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t bear the thought of being an obligation for the rest of my life.”

“You selfish bitch.”

She jerked her head around to stare at him. Surprise widened her hazel eyes. Her long braid trailed over one shoulder, but for once the thick silken length didn’t catch his attention.

“I realized—I couldn’t bear—” He mocked her in a falsetto voice. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Did you ever once think about what
I
might want? That I might care about my daughter, want to see her born, watch her take her first step, hear her first word? You’ve taken a piece of my life away. You’ve stolen time that I can’t recover. Worse than what I might regret, you have stolen your daughter’s birthright. Made her suffer when her life might have been easier. There were advantages I could have—”

“Money isn’t everything.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about people, a culture. A place to grow up knowing that generations before have walked the same path, lived in the same house. Your decision, blamed on me and circumstance, has destroyed two lives.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. A flash of lightning showed the trail of tears on her cheeks. “You’re right.”

He turned and hit the fireplace mantel. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I know.”

“Why? Why did you come back? Why are you doing this?”

“I wanted Billie—” Her voice cracked. “I wanted the two of you to meet.”

“Was it all a sick game? We met. Big deal. Did you think I wouldn’t guess eventually? Who else aside from Charlene knows?”

“No one.”

“Your parents?”

“Yes.”

He cursed.

“I couldn’t tell you.” She took a step toward him as if to beseech him to listen. When he glared, she moved back. “When I first arrived, I wasn’t sure you’d want Billie in your life. She seems tough, but she’s still a little girl. If I’d told you about her right away, you would have been angry and might have said or done something that would have scarred her.”

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.”