Still Waters (5 page)

So what luck it was that just this morning the clouds had broken, revealing a sky the color of heaven, and allowing the sun to warm the air to a perfect temperature. Adam could picture all those little rug rats running around Jenna’s backyard, trailing balloons and wrapping paper, in a complete frenzy of sugar and excitement.

He glanced at the brightly-wrapped package on the passenger seat of his car, and he smiled. Secreted inside the large box were two baseball gloves, a bat, and an assortment of balls that were just right for whacking into the nearest gutter — or into an outstretched glove, depending on the circumstance. The way Adam figured it, the little guy had never known his father, so if he could treat Christopher to a game of catch, that would be fine. Mighty fine, in fact.

Christopher Appleton. The thought of him still took Adam’s breath away. Bud’s son. Bud’s little boy.

Miracles really did happen.

Well, they all deserved a miracle, didn’t they? Especially Bill and Kitty, losing two sons in a matter of years, as if Denny’s death hadn’t been bad enough.

When Kitty had written to him in the early autumn of 1950 to share the joyful news that Jenna was going to have Bud’s child, all he had been able to think was,
maybe God’s making up for it.
And suddenly it had made sense that Jenna had never answered any of the letters he’d written to her. She’d been caught up in a private world built of grief and joy. She probably hadn’t spared him much of a thought since they’d parted so awkwardly two days after their unexpectedly intimate reunion.

Adam had continued to write to Jenna in the following years, but she’d never replied. Well, Jenna had always done things her own way. And that was one of the reasons why he loved her, wasn’t it?

Truth to tell, what had happened between them had never sat too well with Adam. She was Bud’s wife, after all. And when he learned that Jenna had been pregnant during their time together, he had felt nearly sick with shame.

But as he read Kitty’s letters, read of her absolute joy and gratitude that she and Bill had a grandchild, that a piece of Bud would survive, Adam’s guilt had eased and had been replaced by happiness.

Misery had never been natural for him, anyway. Although he had seen more than his share of tragedy, high spirits were his natural disposition. He and Bud had been a good match that way. There was no occasion so solemn that it couldn’t be lightened with a joke, no depression so heavy that it couldn’t be alleviated with a funny story or a simple heart-to-heart conversation. The two of them had seen each other through the frustrations and dangers of childhood, from scraped knees to bullies to exams, and always had kept right on smiling.

So really, it wasn’t surprising that he and Bud would fall in love with the same girl. Especially when that girl was Jenna.

And this moment, with the blue sky overhead and the spring breeze blowing his hair through the open top of his new car, Adam knew in his heart that when he asked Jenna to marry him, somewhere Bud would be cheering.

* * *

Linden Street had changed a lot since the last time Adam had seen it, but Jenna’s house was just as he remembered. It was a neat house on a street of neat houses, built of brick, with two windows upstairs and two windows down. The porches on those Arlington Forest homes were fixed to the side, which gave the smallish front lawns a more expansive feeling. Jenna’s place was perched on the outer corner as he made the right turn off Linden Street.

Like it was waiting for him, he thought.

Balloons were tied to the railings of the porch, and there were more on the gate that led to the backyard. They danced brightly on the spring air. Adam turned right again on Farley Street, then made a graceful U-turn and pulled up at the curb.

He was just walking up the steps from the sidewalk to the front path of the house when Kitty came around from the back. She was a small woman, compact and elegantly built, who wore her dark hair curled softly around the nape of her neck. She was casually dressed in pink pedal pushers and a cotton blouse. She looked young, and fresh, and so different from the last time Adam had seen her that he almost didn’t recognize her.

Of course, the last time he had seen her had been just days after she had buried her son, when her soul was freshly shattered by tragedy and her eyes were still blackened by the endless non-comprehension of loss. The day after the funeral, Bill and Kitty had brushed aside Adam’s contrite apologies for missing the service and had taken him to pay his respects.

He had stood between them at Bud’s gravesite, smelling the fresh wet dirt and sodden grass. He had held Kitty’s hand as she wept. Bill had stood with his back straight and shoulders square, stoically ignoring the tears that ran down his own cheeks and dropped darkly onto his black suit.

Death was always a betrayal of reason, and the Appletons had lost two sons in the space of a few years. Lost them, not to war or even to illness, but to mindless accidents. It was enough to confound the mind, to splinter the heart into a thousand pieces.

“Adam!” Kitty exclaimed. She doubled her pace and hurried towards him, hands outstretched. He was carrying Christopher’s gift, but he caught Kitty up in a one-armed bear hug and lifted her straight off the ground. When he put her back on her feet, she was laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. He searched her face, trying to see past her smile to the heart that beat beneath. He probed her eyes, and found sorrow in their depths. But he also found happiness there — and the genuine article, at that. He smiled.

“Being a grandmother agrees with you!” he said, and he meant it.

“Oh, Adam, you have no idea!” she said blissfully. “I thought being a mother was wonderful.” Her voice faltered. She caught herself and hurried on. “But being a grandmother is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!”

Adam didn’t know what to say to that, so he just squeezed her shoulder. He looked up as two party guests of the somewhat grown-up variety came around the corner.

“Oh, let me introduce you to some friends of ours,” Kitty said, catching sight of them. “This is Stella Stanislaw and her daughter Rose. They live across the street.”

He shook hands with both of them as Kitty made the introductions. Stella was a thin woman of medium height. She had an expression of intelligent irony and a shock of red hair that was styled within an inch of its life. Her eyes were dark and snapping with very pale lashes, which made her face quite arresting, if not beautiful.

Rose was young, probably about twelve by Adam’s estimation, with Stella’s flashing eyes and pale skin, but her hair was dark and thick as a mink coat. She had some kind of drawing pad under her arm, and a pencil stuck out of her shirt pocket. Adam noted her grave and grown-up demeanor with some amusement. She probably felt very adult today, with all the youngsters running around.

“My husband Max is in the backyard. You’ll meet him later.” Stella smiled. “You can’t miss him. He’s the one with the black hat, fighting all the little sheriffs.”

“Dad’s really enjoying this party too much for a man of his age,” Rose said.

Stella laughed. “It’s true. We’ll probably have to have a cowboy theme for
his
next birthday.” She looked at Adam. “When did you get back to town?”

“Just a few days ago.”

“A few days ago? I didn’t know that.” Kitty swatted at him. “And you haven’t been out to see us yet? You should be ashamed of yourself! Where are you staying?”

“In DC, with a Navy buddy of mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll stay with us until you find a place of your own.”

He laughed uncomfortably, glancing briefly at Stella and Rose. Bill and Kitty were like kin to him, but he was a man who liked his independence. A lot. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“Put us out? Adam, we’re
family
. We’re not going to argue about it, and I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

Adam ran his fingers over the brightly-colored wrapping paper on the package he was holding. He didn’t want to press the point about staying with them. Not until he had to.

Stella spoke up, saving him from having to respond. “So what are you going to be doing with yourself, Adam? Now that you’re out of the service, I mean.”

Adam nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “I’ve got a job lined up, helping supervise some houses that are being built down south, near Mount Vernon.”

“Sounds like interesting work.”

“Hope so. I liked the sound of the fella I talked to when I took the job. I’m starting on Monday, so we’ll see how it goes.”

“Well, we wish you the best of luck,” Kitty said fondly. “But I’m sure you won’t need it.” She looked at Stella. “He’s quite brilliant, you know.”

“I have no doubt,” Stella said, her face indulgent.

Kitty turned back to Adam. “Oh dear, have you even seen Jenna yet?”

“No,” he answered. “I just got here.”

“I think she’s in the living room.” Kitty lifted her voice. “Jenna!” she called.

The screen door opened almost immediately, and Adam turned his head in anticipation. But it was Fritz who came out of the door, trotting casually down the walk.

“That’s Fritz,” Rose told Adam. “He’s very friendly. Usually.”

“We’ve met before. I just hope he remembers as me fondly as I remember him — and not as something that might make a good dinner.” Adam reached out and let the big German Shepherd sniff his hand. When the colossal black nose had thoroughly investigated, the muzzle nudged his palm in a friendly gesture. Adam took that as a sign that he’d been officially approved and welcomed.

As he was scratching Fritz’s ears, the hinges on the screen door squealed again. And that time when Adam looked up, he glimpsed the face he’d been waiting to see for five long years. She still took his breath away.

Jenna was all angles, all arms and legs and elbows and knees. Her body was as long and lean as he remembered it. Adam was tall himself, and she came up almost to his nose. She towered over Kitty, who was smaller and plumper. Like Kitty, she wore pedal pushers and a cotton blouse, but hers were blue. The color brought out the blue in her gray eyes and heightened the pink in her cheeks. Her hair, that beautiful black hair that reminded him of a raven’s wing, had been cropped short around her head. If he hadn’t known her better, he would’ve said that she looked like a boy.

But he did know better, and she might have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

When she saw him she pulled up short. As always, her face showed little to no emotion, but he read surprise in the way she blinked, and the hesitant manner in which she continued her graceful progress down the walkway.

“Jenna, look what the cat dragged in!” Kitty said happily. Then to Adam: “She didn’t know you were coming.”

“She didn’t?” Well, that accounted for the pale, pinched look that was visible around her mouth and nose.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Kitty explained.

Surprise was sure one word for it. Adam suppressed a grin. His Jenna had never liked surprises. They tended to interfere with her need to control everything.

“Hello, Jen,” he said.

“Adam,” she said, making his name sound less like a greeting and more like a grim statement. “How nice to see you.”

Her expression belied her words. Adam would’ve given in and finally released the huge smile that wanted to make its way onto his face, except that her low, husky voice cut right through his humor. It cut right to the core of him, to the place where desire lived.

“You came for the party?” she asked.

“Indeed I did,” he said. He patted the package under his arm and smiled his most winning smile. “I even brought the little guy a present. Something that no American boy should be without.”

From somewhere inside the house, a thin, excited voice called out, “Mom? Mommy!” Jenna stiffened at the sound of her son’s voice, glancing at Adam with lowered eyelids.

“Well, you have a chance to give it to him.” Kitty turned her head. “Here’s our little Christopher now!”

Adam looked up in time to see a small boy come barging out through the front door. He held onto the porch railing with both hands and made his awkward way down, one step at a time.

Adam could empathize with the child’s gawkiness. He remembered the clumsy, inept days of his own childhood, when everything — including his feet — seemed much too big for him to control. He’d used to have to go up and down the stairs in the exact same way that Christopher was doing right now.

The boy was small and slender, with frail-looking bones. A cowboy hat dangled on his back, and a kerchief was tied badman-style around his neck. There was western stitching on his pale red shirt, and his dark red pants were too big for him. They bunched at his waist where his belt had been cinched, and drooped slightly where the leather holster was clipped. At first glance, Christopher’s hair appeared to be black, like his mother’s. But as the boy stepped forward into the sunlight, Adam could see that it was actually dark brown, like his own.

Just
like his own.

Adam’s heart skipped a beat.

The child ran down the walk, plastic boots slapping the pavement, spurs jingling. “Mother! Joey wants to know if it’s time to open the presents and have cake and — ”