sighed. Okay. She was alone; she could admit the truth to herself, if to no one else. She was lonely.
Returning to Orchard had sounded so noble when she’d lain awake in her bed in San Francisco. She would unite father and daughter, be a wonderful teacher, provide her child with a warm, loving and stable environment. When she’d imagined the scene,there had been a Joan of Arc sort of glow around her head in reward for all her good deeds.
Reality turned out to be very different. She hadn’t seen Adam since Sunday, so she wasn’t making any progress on that front. School wouldn’t start until early September. She’d planned her lessons before she’d left San Francisco. And as for Billie—She smiled. She’d love to take the credit for her daughter fitting in so well, but it was all Billie’s doing. Adam had sent, via Charlene, information on the local softball league. By Tuesday Billie had been enrolled in the park’s summer-camp program and assigned to a team. She came home every day with new battle scars from her activities and tales of friends made and adventures experienced.
Jane rose to her feet and walked from the den to the kitchen. White tiles gleamed from her thorough scrubbing. Food filled the pantry. Everything had been unpacked and put away.
Maybe she shouldn’t have worked so quickly, she thought as she leaned against the counter and stared out the kitchen window into the backyard. But it had been hard not to. She wasn’t sleeping well. Only by staying busy could she keep Adam and the kiss they had shared from her mind.
Back in San Francisco, she’d had friends and activities to fill her time. Here she knew people but—she shook her head—they would ask questions she couldn’t answer. Not until Adam knew the truth. She could go see Charlene, but the older woman had her own life. She was currently planning a trip to Greece. A movie about an older woman finding if not love then certainly passion in the beautiful islands had inspired her to travel to the Mediterranean. In addition, Billie had mentioned something about Charlene arranging for a few of her trucker friends to stop by before she left. Jane grinned. She wouldn’t want to touch that one.
She remembered the time she had casually asked the other woman about her visiting male friends. Charlene’s frank lecture of the joys of sex had left her blushing for days. When she’d told Adam about the conversation, he’d laughed for several minutes, then had teased that it was her own fault for inquiring. When she’d protested, he’d pulled her close and offered to illustratesome of Charlene’s more interesting points. She’d turned away, embarrassed and scared and he’d—
She groaned. It always came back to Adam. Stop thinking about him, she ordered herself. She forced herself to mentally create a list of other chores she could do to fill her time. There was always the mending. Billie destroyed her clothes on a regular basis. And she could tackle the attic. Her mother had left several boxes up there.
She glanced at the clock. Almost twelve. She should do something about lunch. That would fill a few minutes.
The back door banged open and Billie stormed into the kitchen.
“Mom! I’m home!” she announced as she flew across the room and into her mother’s arms.
“So I see.” Jane hugged her close. “It’s early.”
“Friday’s only a half day at camp and I don’t have a game until tomorrow.” Billie looked up at her, her baseball hat pulled down so low, she had to crane her neck to see below it. “Can you make cupcakes for after the game?”
“Sure.”
Billie grinned. “Great. I told the guys you would.” She stepped back and dug out the ever-present softball from her dirty red shorts pocket. “Sometimes boys are dumb,” she said.
Jane chuckled. “Interesting observation. Why do you say that?”
“They tell me I can’t do stuff ‘cuz I’m a girl.”
“So?”
“So I threatened to beat them up.” She tossed
Returning to Orchard had sounded so noble when she’d lain awake in her bed in San Francisco. She would unite father and daughter, be a wonderful teacher, provide her child with a warm, loving and stable environment. When she’d imagined the scene,there had been a Joan of Arc sort of glow around her head in reward for all her good deeds.
Reality turned out to be very different. She hadn’t seen Adam since Sunday, so she wasn’t making any progress on that front. School wouldn’t start until early September. She’d planned her lessons before she’d left San Francisco. And as for Billie—She smiled. She’d love to take the credit for her daughter fitting in so well, but it was all Billie’s doing. Adam had sent, via Charlene, information on the local softball league. By Tuesday Billie had been enrolled in the park’s summer-camp program and assigned to a team. She came home every day with new battle scars from her activities and tales of friends made and adventures experienced.
Jane rose to her feet and walked from the den to the kitchen. White tiles gleamed from her thorough scrubbing. Food filled the pantry. Everything had been unpacked and put away.
Maybe she shouldn’t have worked so quickly, she thought as she leaned against the counter and stared out the kitchen window into the backyard. But it had been hard not to. She wasn’t sleeping well. Only by staying busy could she keep Adam and the kiss they had shared from her mind.
Back in San Francisco, she’d had friends and activities to fill her time. Here she knew people but—she shook her head—they would ask questions she couldn’t answer. Not until Adam knew the truth. She could go see Charlene, but the older woman had her own life. She was currently planning a trip to Greece. A movie about an older woman finding if not love then certainly passion in the beautiful islands had inspired her to travel to the Mediterranean. In addition, Billie had mentioned something about Charlene arranging for a few of her trucker friends to stop by before she left. Jane grinned. She wouldn’t want to touch that one.
She remembered the time she had casually asked the other woman about her visiting male friends. Charlene’s frank lecture of the joys of sex had left her blushing for days. When she’d told Adam about the conversation, he’d laughed for several minutes, then had teased that it was her own fault for inquiring. When she’d protested, he’d pulled her close and offered to illustratesome of Charlene’s more interesting points. She’d turned away, embarrassed and scared and he’d—
She groaned. It always came back to Adam. Stop thinking about him, she ordered herself. She forced herself to mentally create a list of other chores she could do to fill her time. There was always the mending. Billie destroyed her clothes on a regular basis. And she could tackle the attic. Her mother had left several boxes up there.
She glanced at the clock. Almost twelve. She should do something about lunch. That would fill a few minutes.
The back door banged open and Billie stormed into the kitchen.
“Mom! I’m home!” she announced as she flew across the room and into her mother’s arms.
“So I see.” Jane hugged her close. “It’s early.”
“Friday’s only a half day at camp and I don’t have a game until tomorrow.” Billie looked up at her, her baseball hat pulled down so low, she had to crane her neck to see below it. “Can you make cupcakes for after the game?”
“Sure.”
Billie grinned. “Great. I told the guys you would.” She stepped back and dug out the ever-present softball from her dirty red shorts pocket. “Sometimes boys are dumb,” she said.
Jane chuckled. “Interesting observation. Why do you say that?”
“They tell me I can’t do stuff ‘cuz I’m a girl.”
“So?”
“So I threatened to beat them up.” She tossed
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