For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,84

cold, and the steady throb of the surf.

Hugging herself, Lynn kept thinking, I could be home in Portland. Debating with Adam, laughing with him. Is this really better?

Couldn’t she have loved him in silence? He might have come to love her in turn, mightn’t he? Why had she given up hope that he would?

I...care.

Couldn’t that be enough? she begged herself. Was that so terrible? Didn’t the greatest of passions often age into something no more exciting? So what if he still thought about Jennifer. She was gone, and Lynn was here. With time, he would think about his first wife less.

She stopped and faced the breakers as wisps of cloud raced in front of the moon. Why wasn’t I patient? she thought miserably. Why couldn’t I...settle?

Wasn’t having something better than nothing?

How could she convince Rose and Shelly that she’d made the right choice if she didn’t even believe it herself?

Lynn found a boulder to provide a windbreak and backrest. Huddled against the night and her own unhappiness, she remembered every moment of her married life, every word Adam had spoken, every touch. She tortured herself with full knowledge of what she had thrown away, and began to see that she was a coward.

She had been so terrified of losing Adam slowly, she had brought on a quick, clean break. She knew she’d be okay on her own. She’d done this before. What she had no idea how to do was coax a man into loving her, or how to endure his indifference when he made it plain.

Burying her cold face in the scratchy wool of the sweater sleeves, Lynn heard herself as clearly as if she’d spoken aloud. She’d be okay on her own. She’d done this before.

She had told Adam once that being a single mother came naturally to her, that it was the pattern she knew. She was comfortable as a mother, but not as a wife.

In her fear, she had made no effort to fight for Adam. Being a wife was too scary. Run and hide.

Her tears soaked the sweater sleeves, her nose dripped. If only she hadn’t told him she loved him! Lynn thought wretchedly. Bitter, angry words could be taken back, but not her naked declaration.

I don’t want to lose you, he’d said, but how could they go on as they had before, when neither of them would be able to forget that one of them loved and one didn’t?

For the girls’ sake, would he agree to live that way? Was she brave enough to try, if he would give her the chance?

The rags of clouds were knitting together into dark masses and the wind smelled of rain. Chilled to the bone, Lynn started back along the beach, the wind shoving her from behind. She was so cold! Her feet were numb and blockish in thin sneakers. Dressed so inadequately, she shouldn’t have stayed as long as she had.

The first icy shards of rain came as she turned her back on the ocean and picked her way carefully between rough rocks and piles of driftwood toward the steps up to street level.

She was almost there when she saw that a man leaned against the railing only feet from the opening to the beach. With the lamplight behind him, he was dark, anonymous and imposing. She hesitated. Probably he only wanted his solitude, as she had, but it was awfully lonely out here if he were to threaten her. Still, there was no other easy way up the concrete and granite bulkhead, and she was very cold.

Taking a breath for courage, she bent her head and hurried toward the stairs. She had set foot on the bottom one when he spoke.

"Lynn?"

"Adam?" she whispered. The wind whipped his name away, unheard.

"I’ve been waiting for you." He didn’t move.

Slowly she climbed the few stairs. Hip against the railing, he faced her. His expression changed when he got a good look at her in the yellowish light from a sodium lamp.

"You’ve been crying." He sounded angry. Gruff.

"My eyes watered. The wind..." Why was he here?

He stepped forward. The relief was overwhelming. Right this second, it hardly mattered why he’d come. Oh, how easy it was to let herself be enveloped in his warmth and strength.

"I’m sorry," she tried to tell him, but had no idea if he heard her.

He was growling something against her hair. It seemed to be an echo. "I’m so sorry. You’ve got to forgive me, Lynn."

"Forgive you?" What was he talking about? She tried to