manager at the bank had tried to intimidate a delinquent widow by using physical force. When Adam found out, he’d been a man possessed. The rage in his eyes, the barely controlled violence in his stance, the deadly quiet voice he’d usedto fire the employee, had frightened her and had made her wonder if she knew him at all.
Looking back through the eyes of an adult, she realized he had kept himself from her. The essence of what he was—the promising oldest son forced to grow up before his time—had remained hidden. She’d been no match for him. Even his carefully reinedin passion had frightened her virgin body. No wonder he’d let her go without a word. What had there been to say?
She opened another package of shelf paper and unrolled it along the counter. The easiest thing would be for her to go along with him and play her own game of pretending nothing had happened. But that wasn’t an option for her. She had to think of Billie and protect her. Until they had put the past behind them, they couldn’t face the present. Until he had dealt with his anger, she couldn’t trust him with his daughter.
*
Jane sat at the window seat in the guest room. In the trees, morning birds called to one another and their young. It wasn’t yet seven, but already the humid heat threatened. Another Southern Sunday, she thought, pulling her light, cotton robe closer around her body.
Last night Adam had stayed out late. She’d waited up as long as she could, but exhaustion had forced her to bed. This morning she’d rushed to the window and had caught a glimpse of him jogging off. He had to come back sometime, and she’d be waiting. They still had a lot to discuss, and avoiding each other wasn’t going to make it go away.
After washing up in the bathroom, she pulled on shorts and a blouse. She would dress for church after her talk with Adam. She checked to make sure Billie was still asleep. Her child lay curled up like a possum. The light sheet covered everything but the tip of her head. Jane silently shut the door and made her way down the stairs.
The house echoed with morning stillness. Underfoot, the hardwood floors felt cool and smooth. Adam had pulled up the old wool carpets and replaced them with scatter rugs. Most of the furnishings remained the same, but yesterday she’d caught sight of a complex entertainment unit in the game room. While he’dkept the family portraits and photographs, the darker paintings had been exchanged for bright moderns and a few lithographs. An original cartoon cell hung in the hallway outside her bedroom. The changes in the house were minor, but no less important for their subtlety.
Reaching the bottom stair, she sat down and waited. It had been almost an hour. He
had
to return soon. So what was she going to say? How far was she willing to push him? Telling herself that dealing with his anger herself was better than risking it spilling over to Billie was one thing. Facing Adam in a rage was quite another.
The girl he’d known before would never have defied him. If he’d told her he didn’t want to talk about something, she would have never mentioned it again. That girl had been lost somewhere between Billie’s birth and the present.
The back door slammed and jerked her out of her reverie. Here goes nothing, she thought grimly as she rose and brushed her damp palms against her shorts. She walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. And stopped.
Adam stood with his back to her. His bare back. Since he’d last jogged out of sight, he’d removed his T-shirt. Sweat glistened on his skin, the sheen defining the rippling muscles clenching and releasing like thick ropes. One hand held the refrigerator door open. He reached in and pulled out a bottle of juice. He shook the container, then raised it to his lips. As he drank, her throat tightened and swallowed. A bead of moisture dripped from the bottle onto his chest and was lost from view. Her gaze drifted down, past the flat
Looking back through the eyes of an adult, she realized he had kept himself from her. The essence of what he was—the promising oldest son forced to grow up before his time—had remained hidden. She’d been no match for him. Even his carefully reinedin passion had frightened her virgin body. No wonder he’d let her go without a word. What had there been to say?
She opened another package of shelf paper and unrolled it along the counter. The easiest thing would be for her to go along with him and play her own game of pretending nothing had happened. But that wasn’t an option for her. She had to think of Billie and protect her. Until they had put the past behind them, they couldn’t face the present. Until he had dealt with his anger, she couldn’t trust him with his daughter.
*
Jane sat at the window seat in the guest room. In the trees, morning birds called to one another and their young. It wasn’t yet seven, but already the humid heat threatened. Another Southern Sunday, she thought, pulling her light, cotton robe closer around her body.
Last night Adam had stayed out late. She’d waited up as long as she could, but exhaustion had forced her to bed. This morning she’d rushed to the window and had caught a glimpse of him jogging off. He had to come back sometime, and she’d be waiting. They still had a lot to discuss, and avoiding each other wasn’t going to make it go away.
After washing up in the bathroom, she pulled on shorts and a blouse. She would dress for church after her talk with Adam. She checked to make sure Billie was still asleep. Her child lay curled up like a possum. The light sheet covered everything but the tip of her head. Jane silently shut the door and made her way down the stairs.
The house echoed with morning stillness. Underfoot, the hardwood floors felt cool and smooth. Adam had pulled up the old wool carpets and replaced them with scatter rugs. Most of the furnishings remained the same, but yesterday she’d caught sight of a complex entertainment unit in the game room. While he’dkept the family portraits and photographs, the darker paintings had been exchanged for bright moderns and a few lithographs. An original cartoon cell hung in the hallway outside her bedroom. The changes in the house were minor, but no less important for their subtlety.
Reaching the bottom stair, she sat down and waited. It had been almost an hour. He
had
to return soon. So what was she going to say? How far was she willing to push him? Telling herself that dealing with his anger herself was better than risking it spilling over to Billie was one thing. Facing Adam in a rage was quite another.
The girl he’d known before would never have defied him. If he’d told her he didn’t want to talk about something, she would have never mentioned it again. That girl had been lost somewhere between Billie’s birth and the present.
The back door slammed and jerked her out of her reverie. Here goes nothing, she thought grimly as she rose and brushed her damp palms against her shorts. She walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. And stopped.
Adam stood with his back to her. His bare back. Since he’d last jogged out of sight, he’d removed his T-shirt. Sweat glistened on his skin, the sheen defining the rippling muscles clenching and releasing like thick ropes. One hand held the refrigerator door open. He reached in and pulled out a bottle of juice. He shook the container, then raised it to his lips. As he drank, her throat tightened and swallowed. A bead of moisture dripped from the bottle onto his chest and was lost from view. Her gaze drifted down, past the flat
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