For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,65

beautiful. Her flower arrangements—he seized on the memory. He used to think they were like her, careless and artful at the same time.

He couldn’t let her go. Not so easily. Not so quickly.

He could give Lynn everything but his heart.

CHAPTER TWELVE

EVERY TIME SHE HEARD a car engine, Lynn went to the kitchen window. No Adam.

For the first time, she’d left Shelly with Adam and Rose, coming home to open the bookstore all by herself. The quiet drive had been an unexpected pleasure. She was so rarely alone to let her thoughts drift aimlessly, to listen to Bizet’s Carmen instead of Sesame Street songs. But that was two days and a night ago. Now she missed her family terribly.

She glanced at the clock for the twentieth time. Dark had come hours ago. Front and back porch lights were beacons in the night—the strong beam of a lighthouse calling them home, Lynn thought fancifully.

Thursday evening she’d read a murder mystery, not had dinner until nine o’clock and then eaten an entire pint of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, feeling decadent the whole time. Tonight she used her energy and anxiety to clean. Floors and sinks shone, and she’d moved every piece of furniture so that not even one dust bunny escaped her.

At eight-thirty, half an hour after his usual time, she heard the deep, throaty murmur of Adam’s Lexus and the crunch of gravel under the tires.

With a rush of pleasure, Lynn dropped a handful of forks—she’d been rearranging the silverware drawer—and hurried to the door. Footsteps clattered on the outside stairs. Little-girl voices called, "Mommy! We’re home!"

Opening the door, Lynn scooped to snatch first Shelly, then Rose up into her arms for huge hugs. They felt so solid, smelled so sweet, and she didn’t know how she had been able to endure two days without them.

Below, the car door slammed again in the darkness, and Adam came into the circle of porch light and started up the rickety staircase, burdened by a duffel bag and...was that a hula hoop? She hadn’t seen one in years.

Shelly didn’t like the fact that Mommy’s attention had wandered for even a moment. Tugging on Lynn’s hand, she did a little dance. "Mommy, I went to school with Rose! We learned to write letters! Didn’t we, Rose? And how to count in...well, the way somebody else talks. I don’t remember who. You wanna hear me? Uno, dos, tres,” she enunciated with earnest care. "Rose knows how, too. Don’t you, Rose?"

"Course I do," Rose declared with the air of a big kid. "Uno, dos, tres. See? And Teacher said I know my colors. My shirt is orange. Isn’t it, Mommy?"

"Mine is purple," Shelly said importantly. "I know my colors, too, Mommy."

"I know you do, sweetie. And very well, too."

The hula hoop slung over Adam’s shoulder rolled off and bounced down the stairs. He mumbled something not meant for three-year-old ears, dropped the duffel bag on the landing and chased after the neon-green plastic hoop.

The girls turned to watch, giggling in merriment. "Grandma gave us one a’ those," Shelly explained. "A hoo...hoo..." Her lips pursed in a perfect circle. "Hoo..."

"Hula hoop," Lynn supplied.

Grinning ruefully, Adam started back up the stairs.

"Hoo-hoop. She said she played with one when she was a girl. She wriggled. Like this." Shelly swiveled her hips so hard she fell down laughing.

Rose, of course, had to demonstrate and tumble theatrically amid more giggles.

"Grandma must have looked very funny," Lynn said, trying to imagine the petite, elegant woman waggling her hips like a Hawaiian dancer. Now, that she would have liked to see.

A small cloud stilled Shelly’s laughter. "I can’t make the hoo-hoop work."

"Daddy says we don’t got no hips," Rose agreed.

"Have any," Lynn corrected automatically.

Daddy rolled the hula hoop into the house. "Here it stays," he said firmly.

Losing interest in it and Mom, Shelly popped to her feet. "Let’s go play," she commanded.

"Okay," Rose said happily.

They raced down the hall, rattling pictures on the wall, and flung open the door to their bedroom.

Lynn frowned, a new worry niggling. "I hope Rose doesn’t get too used to going along with Shelly. Does it seem to you as if..."

Flowers appeared under her nose. "Happy anniversary," Adam said huskily.

Her wondering eyes took in roses and huge fragrant lilies and a scattering of tiny white bridal wreath. She breathed in the glorious scent and then looked up in astonishment at her husband’s face. "Anniversary?"

"One month," he said gravely. "Today."

The paper cone crackled as she took the bouquet from him and cradled