Jill laughed too, slipping her arm around Carrie's shoulders and following her gaze out over
the water.
"But I worry about you," Carrie continued. "You and Angie. If she left your life, if she could
never forgive you, would you eventually grow to resent me, resent us}" she asked quietly.
"And is what we have worth you losing a child?"
Jill nodded, her eyes slipping closed. "In other words, you don't know what we're going to
do either."
Carrie turned, her eyes softening as she saw the love Jill didn't try to hide. She leaned
closer, her kiss feather-light. "I don't have a clue," she whispered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"Feel like going to the park?" Carrie asked one warm, sunny day weeks later.
Jill laughed. "You miss the ducks?"
Carrie held up a loaf of bread, her eyes smiling. "I have an urge."
Jill walked closer, her arms sliding around Carrie's waist. "An urge, huh?" She pulled them
together, loving the familiarity of their embrace, loving the gentle kiss they shared. "I
would love to go to the park with you."
"Wonderful. And just so you don't starve, I made us sandwiches to take along."
Jill pulled away, seeing the paper sack on the bar. She nodded and smiled. "Just like old
times."
"Do you mind?"
"Of course not." She reached for the sack. "It'll be fun." Or so she thought until she saw
the crowded parking lot minutes later. She groaned loudly. "Good God. Half the town's
here."
Carrie laughed. "School's out. What'd you expect?"
"I guess I'd forgotten what it was like during the summer." She discreetly reached across
the console and rubbed Carrie's thigh. "And I've gotten spoiled with our own private part
of the lake."
"I know." Carrie drove through the parking lot, looking for a spot. She found one toward
the end and pulled in. She sat there, hands still on the wheel. "Maybe this wasn't such a
good idea."
"Oh, it'll be fine. We'll take the trail through the woods to the piers. It'll be less
crowded."
And it was. They met only a handful of joggers and two teenagers on bikes. For Jill, it was
one of those days—those warm, sunny days—when she wished she didn't have a job to rush
back to. How nice would it be to spend the afternoon with Carrie?
"I know exactly what you're thinking," Carrie said.
"Oh, do you?" Jill countered, playfully bumping her with her shoulder.
"Wanna play hooky this afternoon?"
Jill laughed. "Okay. You got me."
"You know, you've got some clothes at the cottage. Shorts and stuff," she said with a
shrug. "Maybe you could?"
"Oh, Carrie, I wish I could. But I've got payroll due. I can't put it off."
"Probably just as well. If we start that, I'll be asking you at least once a week to blow off
work."
"I know." Jill turned, wishing they had the luxury of holding hands. "It's just that an hour a
day is not nearly enough."
"You know, we haven't had a Saturday in a while," Carrie reminded her.
"No, we haven't. And I don't know when we can."
"Has anything changed at home?"
"Other than Craig has volunteered to teach summer school, which is a first for him." Jill
sighed. "It's his attempt at being the martyr, because you know, there's nothing at home
for him." She stopped. "And Angie barely speaks to me."
"I'm sorry."
"No. I can't blame her. I can't blame Craig for what he's doing either. I mean, our wedding
anniversary is this week. How awkward is that going to be?" She touched Carrie's arm
briefly, then started walking again. "I've come to the realization that I'm holding him
hostage," she admitted. "Regardless of what happens with us, it's not fair to him."
"You want to divorce him?"
"They don't have to find out about us, Carrie. That doesn't have to be the issue."
"It'll come up, you know it. Eventually it will."
"Then I'll deal with it. I just don't want it to affect you."
Carrie was silent as they walked on, the trail coming to an end near the piers. Most of the
paddleboats and canoes had been rented and kids and adults alike laughed and played out
on the lake. Carrie paused, finding the flock of ducks that had taken refuge in a tiny cove
not far from the piers. She pointed and Jill nodded, following her through the trees.
"I didn't tell you, but Josh asked me point-blank if I was seeing someone," Carrie said.
"When?"
"Last week. He said he could tell something was up between me and his dad."
"What did you say?"
Carrie looked away, out to the lake. "I told him I wasn't," she said quietly. "But Jill, I came
so close to telling him the truth." She turned, watching Jill. "Josh is such a great kid. And
I think he would understand about this, about us. I really do." She opened the loaf of
bread, handing Jill several slices. "But then I didn't want to burden him with the weight of
all this. He's going to be going off to college in a couple of months. I don't want him
worrying about me."
As they walked closer to the water, the ducks saw them and swam closer, some getting out
of the water to clamor at their feet. They silently tore apart the bread and tossed it to
the dozen or more ducks that gathered around them. Grandma Duck joined them, limping
noticeably as she fought for her share of bread.
"What are we going to do?" Jill finally asked.
"I don't know," Carrie said as she bent down to hand Grandma Duck a piece of bread. She
glanced up, meeting Jill's eyes. "I just know I love you. That's all."
Jill's breath caught as it always did when Carrie uttered those words to her. Yes, that was
all. Love. But a love neither of them quite knew what to do with. Jill stood back, watching
the ducks, watching Carrie. Carrie finally stood, her eyes squeezing shut in a grimace.
"What's wrong?" Jill asked.
"It's nothing," she said as she rubbed her temples. "Just have a killer headache. Comes and
goes." She gave a brief smile. "You want to find a park bench?"
Jill shook her head. "I'd rather go back to the cottage and have a little alone time."
Carrie glanced at her watch. "Fifteen minutes."
Jill took her arm and led her back down the trail. "I can be a few minutes late."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Harriet knocked once then cracked the door, sticking her head inside. Jill looked away
from her monitor, eyebrows raised.
"What's up?"
"You have a visitor," Harriet whispered.
Jill frowned. "Who?"
"It's your mother-in-law."
"Oh, God," Jill said with a groan. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Sorry."
"What does she want?" Jill whispered.
"She just asked to see you."
Jill stood. "Okay, okay." She smoothed her skirt then walked to the door. Harriet had
disappeared and Jill forced a smile as she greeted Arlene.
"What a surprise, Arlene. Is something wrong?"
"Of course not. Can't I visit my daughter-in-law?"
"You don't normally." Jill stood back, motioning to her office. "Come in."
Arlene took a seat in one of the visitor's chairs, her eyes moving around the room, landing
on the few personal items Jill kept there. She saw the disapproving look on her face and
knew what was coming. There were no pictures of Craig in her office. In fact, the only one
of Angie was taken nearly five years ago.
"It's so impersonal here, Jill. I would have thought you'd have more reminders of your
family. You seem to have forgotten you have one."