For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,48

a couple of wrapped gifts to set aside for Shelly, 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 lot and took the place of something deeper.

He’d begun to realize that the McCloskeys 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’d 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 exhausting night, was not glorious. Those parenting books hadn’t showcased a photo of a three-year-old’s stinky 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 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 Shelly 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 did he.

He wanted to spend Christmas with both daughters. And with Lynn, who was inescapably part of their peculiar mixed family. The day stretched bleakly before Adam and Rose. Both sets of parents had come last night. He’d cooked a huge ham and all the trimmings then. The two mismatched couples had made polite conversation and avoided inflammatory subjects like politics. His parents had left as soon as possible with their usual excuses. He imagined that today his father had gone to the hospital and his mother was working at her wheel and keeping an eye on the red-hot kiln.

Angela and Rob had wanted him to bring Rose to their house today, but he’d demurred. The past week, they’d dropped talk of lawyers and court—the Christmas spirit must have gotten to them—but the threat wasn’t removed, only in abeyance. It tainted his affection for them. Just lately he’d noticed, too, that Rose was nice to them, but not comfortable. She didn’t run into their arms for a hug, or go to Grandma when she bumped herself on the coffee table, or confide in her shy voice to Grandpa.

Not the way she did with Lynn.

"Don’t you want to play with your new toys?" he asked Rose now, as they stood looking at the aftermath of last night’s and this morning’s whirlwind of gift opening.

"Will you play with me?" she pleaded.

Not dolls. Please, not dolls. "Did you get any games?" he asked hopefully.

"Uh-huh." Her mood lifted. "Chutes ’n Ladders. I’ve played that one at school. And Grandma ’Closkey gave me a clown game. Only, I don’t know where it is."

Oh. He supposed he should clean up. Where was his Christmas spirit?

In Otter Beach. The answer came swiftly, certainly.

"Lily," he said, "let me make a quick phone call."

"Okay." She didn’t correct her name, a barometer of how spirited she was feeling. "Then can you help me find my new games?"

He crushed her into a hug. "You betcha, Violet."

A giggle rewarded him. "Daddy! I’m Rose.”

In the kitchen, Adam dialed and drummed his fingers while the phone rang once, twice, four times. When someone picked it up, "Jingle Bells" was playing in the background. "Hello?" said an unfamiliar woman.

Rose’s grandmother. "Uh...merry Christmas to you. May I speak to Lynn?"

“Of course." The voice was warm and friendly. "And the same to you."

Lynn came on a moment later, sounding breathless. "Adam!" she