For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,52
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"I thought," he tried again, "that for now we could commute. I could come over here two or three days a week, and you could bring Shelly to Portland on the days when the bookstore is closed. We could be together most of the time without changing anything."
Who was he kidding?
But she didn’t call him on it. Instead she continued to study him with grave eyes. "You’re serious," she said at last.
"I am." He was getting irritated. "It would let you be Rose’s mother, me be Shelly’s father. It would solve all our problems."
"But...marriage."
She hadn’t considered the possibility, he could see. She was too shocked.
"We get along well. We want the best for Shelly and Rose." They had to talk about everything. "I won’t push you, but I thought, down the line..." He’d said that already. Spit it out, he told himself. "I find you attractive. I can wait, but I don’t, uh, find the idea unappealing." The palms he rubbed on his thighs were sweaty now. "If you do..."
"I..." Suddenly she wasn’t looking at him. "No, I suppose not. I just hadn’t..." Her voice died away.
"I hadn’t, either."
"Marriage."
He wished she’d quit saying the word in that incredulous way. "I think we can pull it off."
Her pretty greenish-gray eyes flashed with annoyance. "Pull it off? We’re not talking about a corporate merger. Or...or a buyout."
He went to her at last, sitting across the tiny Formica table. "Lynn, I won’t pretend to be in love with you. I haven’t thought of you that way. But I like you, and I do love my daughters. Both of them. I know you do, too. Can’t we learn to love each other, too?"
Her soft exhalation sounded as if he’d landed a blow to her body. She seemed to sag inside that thick chenille robe. "I need to keep the bookstore."
"That’s fine."
She looked fiercely at him. "It’ll mean compromises for you, too."
Hardly daring to breath, he agreed, "Of course."
"Then—" her eyes closed briefly, and when she met his gaze again, hers was dazed "—yes. I’ll marry you."
He was shaken by a surge of exhilaration out of proportion to the deal they’d just struck. Disquieted, he hid that response. Instead, he stood, took a step and kissed her cheek.
"Good," he said inadequately. "When?"
"I...I suppose there’s no reason to wait." She still sounded shell-shocked. "My parents are here."
He kept a tight rein on his gratification. "We can apply for a license today."
A tremor passed through her. "All right."
"You won’t regret this," he said quietly.
This time she visibly shuddered. "I hope and pray you’re right. But for Rose and Shelly..."
She’d do anything. He’d counted on it. And it scared him to think of what they were going to do for the sake of two toddlers.
* * *
THEIR WEDDING DAY DAWNED clear and cold, with a wind that sliced through overcoats. Lynn’s minister had agreed to marry them when he heard the details of their situation, although he had expressed reservations about marriage as a solution.
So there they were, gathered in the small white church two blocks from the oceanfront, a tiny cluster at the altar. Lynn’s mother and stepfather had come, of course. A friend of Lynn’s was maid of honor; likewise, Adam had asked Ron Chainey, his closest friend, who was also his business partner, to drive over from Portland to stand as best man. He told his own parents about the wedding but didn’t expect them to come and wasn’t surprised by their absence. Jennifer’s parents he hadn’t invited. Their shock was too evident, their fear that he would forget their Jenny.
Lynn wore a navy-blue sheath with creamy pearls, her hair in a loose roll. With him in a dark suit and white shirt, the two of them looked as ready to attend a funeral as a wedding.
The brightest note was provided by the two flower girls in matching white dresses with frothy full skirts—Grandma Miller had outfitted them. Each carried a small basket filled with dried rose petals that the girls scattered in front of the altar.
"Dearly beloved," began the minister, an older, balding man whose doubts were as plain as his kindness. He talked about duty and affection and "for better or worse." Standing beside his bride, Adam listened, but the words rolled over him. He’d never expected to hear them again as a participant.
Jenny, forgive me, he thought, but she wasn’t real to him right now. Lynn was, although she felt more like a stranger than ever.