A Dad for Billie (13 page)

She nodded.

“I can do that. I think. Address. I know that. Occupation. Teacher. Employer.” He filled in most of the card, asking for her social security number and the new phone number at her house. His thick dark hair showed signs of a recent cut. One stubborn lock slipped down on his forehead. Billie leaned toward him, her hand casually resting on his shoulder. They looked right together.

As he wrote the information in his neat script, joked with her daughter and tossed her the occasional casual smile, Jane wanted to scream. This was the first time she’d seen him since the kiss.
He was acting as if nothing had happened between them. As if that passionate moment had been meaningless. Could he just put it behind him? Did he kiss so many women that he could easily forget one or two? Or was it Jane he was so quick to forget?

“That seems to be everything. Do you want to look at the check design book?” he asked.

“I’ll just take the standard ones.”

“Do they have baseball checks?” Billie asked.

“Not yet.” Adam smiled at her. “Maybe I’ll call the printing company and make that suggestion.” He gave the form a once-over, then frowned. “You want the account in your maiden name?”

As unexpectedly as the good humor and friendliness had arrived, they faded. His mouth thinned and the lines of his body stiffened.

“Yes.” She looked around the bank, at the tellers watching their exchange, at the interested faces of the people standing in line, to Billie staring intently. This wasn’t the time to tell him she’d never been married.

“What’s a maiden name?” her daughter asked.

“It’s the name a woman has before she gets married,” Jane answered, hoping she wasn’t about to dig herself a hole. “Southwick is your maiden name.”

“How come girls have to take boys’ names?”

Jane offered her daughter a shaky smile. “It’s a tradition.”

“So if you get married, you get a different last name?”

“Yes.”

She thought for a moment. “What if I don’t like his last name? What if it’s dumb?”

“Then you can keep your own.”

Adam shot her a questioning glance.

“She can if she wants to.”

He raised his hands up as if to show he wasn’t armed. “Hey, this is your discussion. I’m not going to say a word. Far be it from me, a mere man, to interfere.”

Billie shifted on the seat and looked at her mother. “Why don’t you use your married name? Was my dad’s last name dumb?”

“No. It was—” She cleared her throat. Not here. Not in the
bank during business hours, with half the town of Orchard watching. “I didn’t want to—” It was hard to lie to her daughter. Harder, perhaps, to lie to Adam. “We’ll discuss this at home.”

“But I don’t understand,” she whined.

Rescue came from an unexpected source. “I’ve been wondering what’s different about you today,” Adam said to Billie. “You don’t have your softball with you. Did you forget it?”

Billie shot Jane a glare. “I was a reptile.”

“A what?” Adam asked.

“Reptile. Reptile behavior. I broke a glass.”

Jane sighed in relief. The reprieve gave her time to think. She leaned forward. “I think she means disreputable behavior. Billie isn’t supposed to throw her ball in the house. She broke a glass. Part of the punishment is that I keep the softball for the rest of the day.”

“Bummer, huh,” Billie said with a heavy sigh.

“That’s what you get,” he said, then made a fist and lightly tapped her chin. “You’ll get it back tomorrow, in time for the game.”

“You coming? I’m going to pitch.”

Adam’s gaze found Jane’s, as if asking what she thought. Yes, please do, she answered silently to him, then turned to Billie. “Adam might be busy, honey.”

“You
always
say that about people. But everybody likes me. They
want
to watch me pitch. Don’t you?”

Adam grinned. “Of course.”

“See.” Billie placed her hands on her hips. “I told you.”

“Where do you get this nerve from?” Jane asked. Then she could have slapped herself. Talk about putting her foot in it. But neither Billie nor Adam followed up on her comment.

He passed the form to her to sign, then handed her a stack of temporary checks. Their fingers came close to touching but didn’t. She wanted to reach out and stroke the white cuff of his shirt. She wanted to keep him smiling at her. Instead she took the checks he offered.

“That should keep you going until the real ones come from the printer,” he said. “Are there other accounts? What about your savings?”

“I don’t have one.”

He tried not to react, but she read the surprise on his face.

“I’ve been going to school to get my teaching credential,” she said, her voice a little sharper than she’d intended. “And I’ve been working, as well. There wasn’t very much left over each month. There are expenses with a child and—”

“I’m not judging you, Jane.”

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m overreacting. I guess it’s because I have this argument with my parents every time I see them.”

“Grandma always tries to give Mom money and she always says no. Sometimes they cry.”

Thanks for sharing, Billie, Jane thought ruefully, realizing she’d have to be more careful about what she said and did while her daughter was in the room.

“We do have Billie’s college fund,” she said, to change the subject. She pulled out the forms. “I guess we need to transfer this, or something. I didn’t want to close the account and risk the tax status.”

He took the papers. “You don’t have a savings account, but Billie has a college fund?”

“Yes.”

Something flickered in his brown eyes, something warm and genuine. She willed time to freeze, so that he would go on like this forever, but Billie leaned over them, her foot kicking the business card holder onto the floor and sending Miss Yarns’s cards scattering in all directions.

“Oops, sorry.” Billie slid to the edge of the desk and jumped to the floor. “I’ll get them.”

Jane watched to make sure she’d landed safely, then glanced back at Adam, but the contact had been broken. He studied the account information.

“It’s pretty standard,” he said. “We’ll put it in her name, with you ATF.”

“Fine.”

“What’s ATF?” Billie shoved the loose cards onto the desk and reached for the holder.

“As trustee for. It means your mom can handle the account for you.”

“I want to take care of my own money.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re a child.”

“It’s for
my
college.”

“When you’re ready for college, then you’ll have a say-so. Until then, it is being kept for you.”

Billie tilted her chin up. Adam straightened in his chair.

“How do I know the money will be there? What if someone wants to spend my money?”

“No one will do that.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m the bank president. It’s my job to know.”

Billie planted her hands on her hips. “What if
you
spend it?”

“That’s against the law.”

“Oh.”

Identical pairs of brown eyes flashed with identical fire. Billie’s cap hid most of her hair, but Jane knew the color was close, too close, to her father’s. Matching shoulders squared against the opponent, similar mouths straightened.

How couldn’t they know? Why didn’t everyone see it? They were two peas in a pod, a matched set, father and daughter. It was as if a fist closed over her heart and began to squeeze. She was playing with two lives. What would the price of honesty be? Would she lose them both?

Billie gave in first. She looked away. “Then I guess it’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

Billie looked at her. “I’m thirsty.”

“There’s a soda machine in the lunch room,” Adam said, before she could respond. “It’s at the end of that hallway. Go pick out what you’d like.” He shrugged. “If it’s all right with your mother.”

“Fine. Thank you.” Jane reached for her purse.

“No charge,” he said. “The bank gives them to the employees.”

“Cool.” Billie turned to race away.

“No running in here,” Jane cautioned.

“Mo-om.”

“You heard me.”

“Okay.”

Billie moved off at a pace too slow for a run, but too fast for a walk. By the end of the teller line, she was skipping, and when she reached the hallway, she whooped loudly and raced down the slick floor.

Jane stared after her. “Sometimes I think I’ve failed completely with her.”

“Billie’s her own person.”

“She is that.”

She looked back at Adam, then wished she hadn’t. Someone somewhere had turned a switch. The friendly man from her past had disappeared and in his place sat the cool, controlled stranger. She couldn’t see the wall between them, but she felt its thickness. When she offered a tentative smile, he simply stared.

“You must be very busy,” she said, clutching her purse to her chest. “I don’t want to keep you.”

He blinked and looked at the application form in his hands. Was he wondering about her maiden name or the existence of an ex-husband somewhere? Did she flatter herself with the question?

“You’re doing a good job,” he said.

“What?”

“With Billie. I can imagine how hard it is to raise a child alone.”

He surprised her. She set her purse on the floor and folded her hands together on her lap. “I wanted to be self-sufficient. My parents…” She sighed. “The first couple of years, I couldn’t have made it without them. Then I began to realize that I was becoming dependent. I started returning the money they sent, got a better paying job and went back to school.”

“All this with a baby?”

“By then, Billie was around two.” She laughed. “You can imagine what the terrible twos were like with her.”

One corner of his firm mouth tilted up slightly. “I would have liked to have seen that.”

His words hit her like a blow to the midsection. What would
he think when he found out the truth? “Let’s just say, I went through a lot of baby-sitters,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t tremble.

“She’s a wonderful girl.”

“I know.”

“She reminds me of Dani at that age.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right.” Did she look like his sister at that age, as well? Don’t panic, she told herself. He wouldn’t figure out the truth on his own. She still had time; just not as much as she’d thought. She collected her purse and stood up. “Thanks for everything, Adam. I appreciate the personal attention.”

He rose and walked around the desk. Her foolish heart fluttered slightly. He’d always been too damn good-looking, she thought, wishing it didn’t matter. Her lips tingled as if the closer proximity brought to life the remembered sensations of their kiss. Did he think about it, too? Did he lie awake at night and remember their lovemaking, all those years ago? Did he think about how different it would be now that she was grown and willing to take him on her own terms?

“Charlene said that she’d like to invite you and Billie to dinner on Sunday,” he said without meeting her eyes. “Four o’clock. Can you make it?”

The invitation surprised her, but not the way he distanced himself from it. “I…” She wasn’t sure she’d be ready to face Adam so soon after today. But she didn’t have a choice. She had Billie to consider. “We’d love to.”

Maybe another meeting with him would give her the courage to tell him the truth.

*

He nicked himself shaving. Adam stared in disbelief at his reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, a drop of blood formed just to the left of his chin. As he watched, it trickled down and dripped onto the bathroom counter. He hadn’t done that in years. Muttering a curse, he tore off a piece of tissue and stuck it on his cut, then finished shaving. He should have gotten out while he had the chance. An old friend had called to invite him to a play in Atlanta. The old friend—a woman—had included dinner
and breakfast in her invitation. He’d been tempted for less than a second.

Jane wasn’t the reason he’d said no, he told himself for the hundredth time as he pulled on twill trousers and a polo shirt. He didn’t give a damn if she was coming over for dinner. It was Charlene’s invitation, not his. Just because his aunt entertained all her friends—except for the truckers—in his house didn’t change anything. Hell, he didn’t even have to show up. He could work in his study, or watch the game on TV.

That’s what he’d do, he decided, as he brushed his hair, then straightened the collar on his shirt. He would watch the game. After slipping on his shoes, he started down the stairs. There was a knock.

“I’ll get it,” he called to Charlene who was already hard at work in the kitchen.

Just as he reached the front door, he remembered to brush the piece of tissue from his face.

“We’re here,” Billie said, walking in slowly, a pie balanced precariously in her hands. “Mom made fresh blueberry pie. Yum. I could smell it all morning, but she wouldn’t let me have none.”

“Any.” Jane came in behind her daughter and offered him a shy smile.

“Any,” Billie repeated. “Or none. It’s the same.” She thrust the pie at Adam. “Where’s Charlene? I want to say hello. Then can we watch the game?”

“Billie! I told you this was a visit. No sports.”

“But the Braves are playing San Francisco. That’s my team. I’ll
die
if I don’t watch.”

He took the pie. “In the kitchen,” he said, jerking his head in that direction. “Then go on into the study. The TV is already on the right channel.”

“Cool.” She dashed away.

He stared after her. “No softball, and she’s wearing a dress. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. She’s wearing shorts under the dress and is convinced you have a hardball somewhere she can play with.” Hazel
eyes met and held his. “If you do, please don’t let her get her hands on it. I can’t make any promises about breakables.”

“I’ll keep it hidden. Please, come in.”

She stepped past him, into the foyer. Her perfume followed like a soft floral breeze, teasing his senses and making him wonder what the anger had been all about. Again she offered a tentative smile. This time he returned it.

“You look beautiful.” He spoke without thinking.