“It’s over here.”Billie walked ahead of them, past the frontporch and stepped close to the bed of flowers in front of the freshly painted white mansion.
“Don’t step on the…roses,” she called as her daughter planted a tennis shoe squarely on a peach-colored blossom.
“Tell me those aren’t still Charlene’s favorites,” she murmured half to herself.
“They are.”Adam kept pace with her, stopping at her side when they reached the scene of the crime.
“See,” Billie said, almost proudly.“It would have been a perfect pitch.”
“Yeah.All that’s missing is the batter, the catcher, a few other players and the umpire.”Jane glanced up at Adam.He looked down at her.If she hadn’t been so tired and out of sorts, she might have thought there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, that the straight line didn’t look quite as straight as it had a minute ago.
“It’s just this one pane.”Billie jumped up and pointed.Her landing crushed the rest of the rosebush.“Ow.It scratched me.”
“Self-defense on the part of the plant.Let me see.”Jane bent down and brushed the skin.“You’ll live.”
“I’m bleeding,” Billie said with a whine in her voice.
“One drop.You won’t miss it.Besides, you killed that rose.”
Billie stepped onto the grass and stared at the squashed bush.“Oh.Sorry.”She grabbed a stem, careful to hold it between thorns, and tried to straighten the broken plant.The stalk drooped to the ground.Crushed petals littered the soil.“It’s a goner.”
Jane rose and looked at Adam.“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but tell me that Charlene is dead.Because if she isn’t, I’m about to be.”
This time he did smile.The slow curve revealed perfect white teeth.Her heart fluttered madly against her ribs.She’d forgotten about his smile and how it made her feel that swooning was a lost art form.
“Charlene is alive and well,” he said, his eyes crinkling in the corners.“She’ll be out for blood when she finds out about this.You know how she feels about her roses.”
“There’s already been blood.”Billie marched up to them and pointed at her leg.“You guys are adults.I’m a kid.You’re supposedto get worried when kids bleed.And what about infection?You’re always making me wash my hands.”
A single drop rolled down and stained her sock.
“All right, let’s deal with the medical emergency.”Adam crouched down and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.He moistened the corner and blotted the tiny puncture.“It’s stopped bleeding.You should be able to keep the leg.”
“Good.”Billie held on to his shoulder for balance.“It’s going to be hard enough making the major leagues as a girl.With only one leg, I’d never have a chance.”She glanced at the sky.“It’s getting dark, Mom.Where are we spending the night?”
“In town.Come on, honey, I’ve got to go call the furniture company.Adam, I—”
His smile had faded and in its place was the distant coolness of a stranger.For a minute or two he’d forgotten, as she had.It had been like the old days, before she’d left town.Before she’d done the unforgivable.
She would apologize.Not now.It was too soon and she didn’t want an audience, not even her daughter.Later, perhaps after he’d had time to digest the fact that they were going to be neighbors.In his present mood he’d deny there was anything to discuss, maybe even refuse to listen to her.If only he’d admit he felt something.Anger, hurt, regret.She’d carried her burden of guilt around for so long, she felt weary and overwhelmed by the weight.Even if he hated her, it would be a start.
“I’ll get you the money for the window and the rosebush.My purse is in the house.I really do have to make that phone call.May I bring it by tomorrow?”
“Use mine,” he said, staring at something over her head.He’d stuffed his hands into his pockets, as if to keep her from seeing the tight fists.But the outline of his knuckles pressed against the twill material of his shorts.Below, the muscles of his tanned thighs bulged against the skin.He still jogged; she could tell from the lean, powerful silhouette of his legs.
“Your what?”
“Phone, Mom.Geez.”Billie stuffed her softball into her oversize pocket.
“I couldn’t.It’s long-distance.”
“Of course you could,” he said.“It’ll save you the drive into town.”
“It’s only a mile.”
She didn’t want to go into that house.Too many memories waited there.It had been bad enough next door, but at least all the old furniture was gone and the walls had been painted and repapered.In Adam’s house, things would be the same.Already the sun was setting and the scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air.If she closed her eyes, she would be able to remember everything.She kept her eyes open.
“You’re very kind,” she said at last, because there was nothing else to say without admitting the truth.She’d come home for a number of reasons.The fact that the past stood in the way of most of them was something she’d have to get over.“After I make my call, we’ll talk about the window.”
