fragile bond between mother and daughter. Angie would never understand, especially at her

age.

She sank down heavily in the chair, staring at the half-eaten sandwich Craig had flung

there earlier. She felt alienated. Even in her own kitchen, surrounded by familiar things,

she felt little more than a stranger in her own home.

She leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands as she stared across the

room. Little by little, their accusations began to fade, being replaced by much more

pleasant words, snippets of conversations between Carrie and herself, softly spoken words

of love passing between them in their most fervent moments of passion, teasing words as

they sat side by side at the pier, and then no words at all as they held hands by the flower

garden, admiring their work as the clock slowly ticked the time away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

As soon as Jill walked into the cottage on Monday afternoon, she knew something was

wrong. Carrie, who normally greeted her at the door, was at the pier, standing alone,

staring out at the lake. Jill tossed her purse on the bar and made her way down the path,

past the flower garden to the pier, her heels clicking on the wooden boards. Carrie turned

at the sound, her eyes showing her surprise.

"Is it one already?"

"Yes." Jill tilted her head slightly, watching Carrie. "What's wrong?"

Carrie waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing." She walked closer, wrapping her arms

around Jill's waist and pulling her into a tight hug. "Saturday was fantastic and I missed

you like crazy yesterday."

Jill smiled, pulling her head away to look at Carrie, then bending closer, lightly kissing her

on the mouth. "Yesterday was endless," Jill agreed. "In fact, this morning was endless."

She pulled out of Carrie's embrace, watching her, trying to read her eyes. There was a

wounded look there she'd never seen before. She took Carrie's hand and led her to their

bench. "Now tell me what's wrong."

Carrie looked away. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a bad day yesterday."

"Then tell me about it. We've talked about everything. There aren't any secrets between

us. Are there?"

"It's not that," Carrie said. She clutched her hands together as she stared at the lake.

"It's just, yesterday morning, James... he confessed that he's been having an affair," she

said quietly.

Jill's eyes widened. "Oh, God, I'm sorry." Then she frowned. "Is that the proper thing to

say, given our circumstances?"

Carrie smiled slightly and shrugged. "I feel like an ass. I mean, here he was, so eaten up

with guilt that he had to confess, and I just sat there, stunned."

"You didn't say anything?"

"We didn't have a screaming match, if that's what you mean. James and I have never been

big fighters. It was all so calm and civilized. Of course, I don't know what my reaction

would have been had I not been involved with you."

She stood, pacing, and Jill stayed quiet, waiting for Carrie to talk it out.

"She's the assistant manager at one of his stores," she said finally. Again a quiet laugh.

"She's thirty-one. And good God, she's married too. I mean, what was he thinking?"

"So what did you say to him?"

"I asked him how long it had been going on," she said. "Since last fall." She turned and

stared out over the lake. "Now I guess I know why he hasn't been concerned with our lack

of a sex life." She turned back around. "God, that sounded just like the victimized wife,

didn't it?"

"Well, it's a shock. I mean, you never suspected, did you?"

Carrie shook her head. "No. Of course I haven't really given anything a whole lot of

thought lately." She sighed. "But that's not why I'm upset, Jill. I mean, how can I be upset

with him for having an affair? No, I'm upset with myself. I had the perfect opportunity to

tell him about you, about us. Yet I didn't." She walked back to the bench and sat down

again. "And like a typical wife, I let him wallow in his guilt, let him beg for forgiveness, let

him plead with me not to tell the boys. And all the while I'm thinking what an ass I am."

Jill linked arms with her. "But why did he tell you? Does he want to be with this woman?"

Carrie shook her head. "No. Like I said, she's married, has kids. It was just something that

happened."

"And is still happening?"

"No. And I think that was why the guilt got to him." She sighed. "He said he thought maybe

I was having my own affair and that was why I didn't miss him being around."

"Oh."

"I still couldn't tell him. If I'd told him, then everything would have focused on me and it

would be like his little affair just went away, because mine is a bit bigger, seeing as how

you're a woman and all," she said with a hint of a laugh. Then she buried her head in her

hands. "What a mess," she muttered.

Jill leaned closer and bumped her shoulder. "Well, speaking of messes, Craig has officially

moved into the spare room."

Carrie looked up. "It's gone that far?"

"And Angie confronted me. She has informed me that she hates me and if we get a divorce

she wants to stay with Craig."

"Oh no."

Jill shrugged. "She's fourteen. She's supposed to hate her mother."

"And Craig?"

Jill sighed. "I don't know." She turned, looking at Carrie, falling into her eyes. "What are

we going to do?"

"I won't lie, Jill. I've thought of us being together. How wonderful it would be to go to

sleep with you at night, to hold each other, to wake together to greet a new day. How

wonderful would that be?" She turned, her eyes moving across the water. "But this is so

foreign to us both." She laughed. "We don't exactly have experience at being lesbians."

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."