A Kiss Too Late. Ellen James
“I’m telling you about Jen now, Will. Not that it’s a very sporting thing to do–she’s made it clear she doesn’t want anyone to know what she’s up to.”
William looked offended. “You seem to know all about her. Are you implying that she’s confided in you?”
Thomas looked complacent. “Let us say she almost confided. I was speaking with her yesterday, and she started to tell me about her acting class. She tried to catch herself, but it was too late. After that, I made a few phone calls. I still have friends in the theater, you might remember, and I’ve learned that Jenna’s been making the audition rounds in New York.” Old Thomas leaned back with all the satisfaction of someone who’d just displayed his trump card.
“You investigated…and you didn’t tell me,” William muttered.
Adam thought about Jen. She’d always loved to attend the theater, but she’d never confessed to having any serious acting aspirations. It bothered the hell out of him that his own wife hadn’t confided in him….
“Adam, it’s more imperative than ever that you do something about Jenna,” William continued. “It’s absurd for her to be alone in New York chasing some wild fancy. What are the chances she’ll succeed? The odds are against even the most talented…” For just a moment, William sounded forlorn, and Adam could guess why. Almost fifty years ago, William, too, had chased a wild fancy, causing his own brief scandal. He’d announced to his parents that he wished to be a novelist, instead of joining the family shipping concern. Against all their admonishments, he’d moved into a small apartment in Boston and proceeded to write. He’d actually completed a novel and sent it off to one editor after another. Unfortunately even the Hillard name hadn’t helped him sell the book. He’d given up in discouragement and returned quietly to the family fold.
Adam rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know if his ex-wife had any acting ability or if this really was just some crazy dream of hers. No matter what, though, her great-uncle William was right. The odds were against Jen. She’d chosen a very difficult career, one notorious for its harsh disappointments.
Adam wasn’t prepared for the sudden protectiveness he felt at this moment. Protectiveness for his Jen–
Except that she wasn’t his Jen anymore. Why couldn’t he seem to remember that?
“Adam, you look perturbed,” Thomas commented, a gleam in his eye as if he hoped for a ruckus of some type. “I’ll bet you don’t like the thought of Jenna’s being an actress, either. Maybe you and Will should join forces–lock the poor girl up and prevent her from going back to New York. Between the two of you, I’m sure you could manage it.”
“I’m talking about a realistic plan to dissuade Jenna!” William snapped. “For once in your life, take something seriously, would you?”
“If I took life seriously, I’d be long dead by now. In fact, I’m amazed you’re still ticking away…”
Adam watched the great-uncles go at each other–Thomas trying to stir up a reaction, William obliging him by getting peeved. For decades these brothers had been doing the same thing, locked in familiar, time-worn patterns. Over the years Adam had developed affection for the two difficult old men, but today it was being tested.
He went to the door of the office, glancing back for a moment. “Forget it, William,” he said. “I’m not going to interfere in Jen’s life. Whatever she wants to do, she can do it. I already asked her to come to Newport more often for visits. I can’t ask anything else of her.”
William looked disappointed. Thomas looked disappointed, too, but no doubt for different reasons. He’d probably been hoping to cause more trouble.
“Forget it,” Adam said again, and then he left the offices of Hillard Enterprises, feeling more dissatisfied and out of sorts than ever.
* * *
JEN DISLIKED being here in the rambling garden behind St. Matthew’s Church on Seabell Lane. This place stirred too many conflicting emotions in her, no matter how lovely the surroundings–wisteria vines growing over the arched gate in competition with the yellow trumpet flowers, a forsythia hedge adorning the brick wall, drifts of David’s harp and lady’s mantle spreading a froth of greenery along the walk. This was the same church garden where generations of Hillards and Prescotts had taken tea with a succession of pastors and pastors’ wives. This was also the very same garden where Jen had married Adam twelve years ago. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to remember the promises she’d made that dazzling summer day.
Now it was another dazzling summer day, the sun shining down through a sky as clear and deep and translucent as blue glass. The beauty was lost on Jen. She felt tension radiating along her neck and through her shoulders. She just wanted her mother’s wedding rehearsal to be over and done with, but it hadn’t even started yet. Reverend Kiley was deep in consultation with the under-pastor in regard to some minute detail of protocol, the musicians couldn’t decide where to set up, and the groom had abruptly disappeared ten minutes ago. For that matter, the best man hadn’t yet arrived.
As if she’d compelled his appearance with her thoughts, Adam came walking through the gate. He looked good–he always looked good. Those hints of silver in his hair only made him seem all the more virile, and she knew from experience that his mustache had an unexpected, enticing softness….
Jen curled her fingers into her palms. Adam made her feel as if she were sitting in a darkened theater, watching a movie projected boldly on the screen–a movie in which the leading man overshadowed every other player by the sheer force of his presence.
When would it stop being like this? One glance at Adam, and her tension had turned to something different–a disquieting awareness of him. She watched as he came purposefully toward her. Adam always moved with purpose.
He stopped beside her, his silk tie casually loosened, his shirtsleeves rolled up over strong forearms.
“Hello, Jen,” he said, his gaze intent on her.
“Hello, Adam.”
For a moment it seemed that would be the extent of their conversation. Adam, however, didn’t excuse himself and go off to speak to someone else; that would have been too easy. Instead, he remained beside Jen, allowing the silence between them to grow heavy and potent.
Just when she thought she’d have to blurt out something–anything–to break it, Adam nodded toward the opposite side of the garden.
“Your mother seems upset,” he remarked.
Jen followed the direction of his gaze to where Beth Hillard was deep in consultation with the Reverend Kiley’s wife. Jen, too, had already noticed the subtle lines of strain on her mother’s face. Usually Beth appeared so on top of things, an optimistic manager of people and events. But at this moment Beth wasn’t managing anything, not even her own wedding rehearsal. She just stood there, listening to the pastor’s wife and looking almost…anxious. Jen couldn’t help being worried about her mother; Beth simply wasn’t the type to succumb to prewedding jitters.
“You’re very observant,” Jen said to Adam. “Most people wouldn’t realize anything’s wrong with Mother. They’d just think she was being a little restrained.”
“We both know that your mother being restrained is enough of an oddity,” Adam said dryly. Jen couldn’t help smiling at that, and for a moment she and Adam seemed to share something–a sort of insider’s knowledge, born of their long history together. But then Adam spoke again, and this tenuous sense of intimacy vanished.
“Maybe I’m not so observant,” he said. “One thing escaped me entirely–the fact that you want to be an actress, Jen.”
She glanced at him. “How on earth…? Uncle Thomas, I suppose.”
Jen should have expected something like this, particularly where Uncle Thomas was concerned. He was the most sympathetic of her relatives, and she had a habit of letting her guard down around him. Of course,