do with telling or not telling Adam?”
She released the curtain and turned to face the older woman. “I don’t want to compound my mistakes. If I tell him and he’s not interested in being a father, she’ll be hurt worse than before.”
Charlene frowned. “You can’t hide the truth forever. This is Orchard, dear. Small Southern towns are notoriously bad at keeping secrets.”
“I know, and I’ll tell him. In my own time. But first, I want to know he wants her. I want to be sure that he won’t punish
her
for the mistakes I’ve made.”
“We don’t always have the luxury of time.”
“I know. I’m so afraid.”
“Because you’ve kept him from his daughter for eight years?”
The dart hit home. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t feel like I had any other choice at the time.”
“You could have come home. Adam would have taken care of you.”
“I didn’t want that. I’d always been the quiet one, the obedient child.” She tucked her hands in her pocket. “Adam was always ready to guide me. To tell me what was right for me, whether I wanted the information or not. I was afraid of him—of us.” She shrugged. “I ran. Foolishly. And when I couldn’t run anymore, I stopped. Only to find out I was pregnant.”
“You could have come back then.”
Jane remembered the cool fog of her first San Francisco morning. It had taken her almost a month to make her way across the country. As her stomach had churned with the lingering effects of nausea, and the tears left cold trails down her cheeks, she’d imagined going home. She’d humiliated Adam in the most devastatingway possible, but if she told him about the baby, he would have taken her back.
For several hours, she’d stood staring out at the ocean. Her fear of going home, of giving up like her mother, had been greater than her fear of going forward. She’d left Orchard to prove to herself she had the strength to make it on her own. Returning at the first sign of trouble would have meant losing forever.
“My pride wouldn’t let me come back,” she said.
“Pride makes a cold bedfellow.”
So Charlene wasn’t going to accept the half truth. “I wasn’t sure I mattered to him,” she said softly, confessing the most painful secret of all. “I didn’t want to be an obligation.”
“He loved you.”
“Did he?” She stared over her friend’s head at a landscape hanging above the bed. The warm colors—the reds and yellows of the flowers, the mossy green of the trees—blended perfectly with the wallpaper. “Or did he know I’d be easily trained? A perfect banker’s wife. Quiet, malleable, well mannered. Sometimes I thought he had a list that he checked whenever he met a woman. I was the most suitable.”
“It wasn’t that way.” The older woman frowned. “You make him sound unfeeling. Adam is a passionate man.”
Jane dropped her gaze to the hardwood floor. “I suppose with Billie as proof, I’d be silly to deny that.” But her memories blurred about that night and the others like it. She’d been so young—too young. And too much in love. “I would have given him my soul. He was more interested in a hostess.”
Charlene shook her head. “You’re remembering him with the eyes of a child. Perhaps Adam had offered you
his
soul and you didn’t notice.”
“I loved him. I would have noticed.”
Charlene watched her closely. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had been formed by smiles rather than displeasure. Heavy makeup and the brightly colored hair couldn’t disguise her softhearted nature. “Tell me about Billie.”
Jane chuckled. “I’d like to tell you I’ve done a fine job with her, but I can’t take the credit. Billie is…Billie.”
“Her father’s daughter?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, remembering the first time her child had looked at her with Adam’s defiant gaze. The pain had been unexpected but she welcomed the connection with the man she had once loved. “I see him in