For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,27
caring whether her mother left. How petty could you get? These visits had to work! She was an adult. She owed it to both children to be selfless.
Crouching, Lynn looked her daughter in the eye. "Honey," she began.
Adam interrupted, "Maybe I can talk your mom into staying for a while. Rose and I planned a nice lunch. You’ll join us, won’t you, Lynn?"
Oh, right, she thought. Now be cordial. Pretend this "dumping her daughter for the day" thing was her idea. His easy, "of course you’re welcome" voice made her the villain.
Torn between her daughter’s pleading brown eyes and her own flash of anger, she couldn’t speak for a moment. Just as well, because the pause gave her time to realize that he was right: they had to pretend. And she could do it as well as he could!
"I’d love to," she said, smiling. "Maybe first Rose would show me her bedroom."
Her gaze met his briefly, with a chill on both sides that neither of their voices revealed. You don’t want me in your house, her eyes said, but she’s my child. I’ll sit on her bed and admire her toys and coax her into friendship, whether you like it or not.
Sure you can, his said in return. Today. Because the girls have left me no choice. But don’t get your hopes up, lady. We’re not setting a precedent here.
"Good idea," he said with the same charm he’d show a new client. "Rosebud, I’ll bet Lynn will enjoy seeing your dolls."
The floors were hardwood beyond the living room, the halls spacious. She caught glimpses into other rooms: one that held a dark big-screen television and a bank of stereo equipment, a formal dining room, an office with a huge leather chair and a state-of-the-art computer and a fax machine that hummed as it rolled out pages. Rose led the way, Shelly gaining enough confidence to peer through doorways and finally let go of her mom’s hand when Rose said, "My bedroom is that one."
All the way, Lynn felt Adam behind her with a prickling, disquieting awareness.
What she hated most was the knowledge that her reaction was partly physical. Adam Landry would have been the kind of boy she’d watched from afar in middle school and high school and college. With that build, he must have been an athlete. With his confidence, he was probably the student body president. Petite, sparkly blondes would have hung on his arm, not quiet, shy girls with difficult hair.
This man was that boy all grown up, and she was no more capable now of exchanging snappy repartee or sultry looks than she’d been then.
Worst of all, the man he’d grown into was obviously capable of kindness and restraint and intense love. Then, she had told herself the popular boys were shallow. Her mother had agreed, hugged her and told her to look for a late-bloomer, they were the best kind.
How disconcerting to discover that she still secretly wished he would notice her. Not as if she really truly wanted him to like her, but because his attention would mean she had arrived. She could be one of those girls who casually slipped an arm around any boy’s waist, who laughed with him and boldly asked him to dance and assumed she would have a date on Friday night.
No, it wasn’t that she wanted Adam Landry to share her unnerving awareness. He was the enemy. He only represented something to her. He awakened girlish longings she’d thought long dead. He was a symbol.
She grimaced when the girls weren’t looking her way and wondered for the forty-second time: Why couldn’t Shelly’s birth father have been a nice plumber?
"See? This is my room," Rose said shyly.
"Ooh," Shelly breathed, and Lynn’s heart sank anew.
Right behind her daughter, she stepped into a young girl’s fantasy kingdom, all pink and purple, with shelves and shelves of dolls, some porcelain, some meant for play. And horses—Breyer’s statues of the Black Stallion and Misty of Chincoteague and a unicorn with a glittering horn. The gleaming mahogany rocking horse was an objet d’art, not a child’s plaything. Rose had her very own cushioned window seat heaped with stuffed animals, and a small Ferrari parked in front of a huge pink plastic Barbie house, completely furnished.
Lynn stood there with her mouth open. Her worst fear had come true. Rose would never want to visit her. Shelly would never want to come home.