Her Mother's Shadow. Diane Chamberlain

would visit Jessica “some day soon,” but in the nearly twelve years Jessica had lived in Phoenix, that day had never come.

      “I will,” she said. “I promise.”

      Jessica sighed. “I was so lucky, Lace,” she said. “This morning they told me how close I’d come to dying. I am going to really embrace every minute of my life from now on. You do the same, okay?”

      “You sound so strong,” Lacey marveled. “How did you get that way?”

      Jessica laughed, though the sound was weak. “Motherhood,” she said. “It either makes you strong or it kills you.”

      “I love you,” Lacey said.

      “Love you, too, Lace. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

      “Okay.”

      Lacey hung up the phone, relieved by the conversation and wondering what she could do to help from two thousand miles away. Sending flowers was one option, but Jessica would probably get plenty of those. She’d buy her books and magazines, things to help her pass the time as she healed. Yet even that idea didn’t ease her powerless feeling, and she wished she could do more.

      She had no idea just how much she would be asked to do.

       9

      LEDA AND JUDY HAD BEEN WRONG ABOUT THE rules. It wasn’t until Faye’s sixth date with Jim that they finally made love. And by then she felt so comfortable with him, so trusting and at home, that she was no longer anxious about her body or her performance. He had shared so much with her about himself and his life. He’d told her about his own performance anxiety—he’d had some prostate problems a few years ago—and she’d been able to share her own insecurities about her weight, her crepey skin, her wrinkles. He had only laughed, as though her concerns had been the furthest thing from his mind.

      Of course, once the line had been crossed, they spent a lot more time in bed than they did going to dinner or the movies. The third time they made love, they had not even bothered with the pretense of going out. She drove directly from work to his house. She was exhausted, having taught an all-day seminar for chronic pain clinicians, and although she’d loved every minute of the training, it had taken a lot out of her. She found new energy in the car, though, as she thought about spending the evening with Jim.

      It was the first time she’d been in his home, and he gave her a short tour before leading her up to the master suite. She’d known he had money, but she hadn’t expected the absolute luxury that surrounded her when she walked into the grand foyer. It was obvious that every inch of the house had been professionally decorated, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was seeing Jim’s taste in the elaborate window treatments and floral print upholstery or his late wife’s.

      The view from the bedroom—from nearly every room of the house, actually—was spectacular. The house stood on a hillside, and in the evening light La Jolla stretched out beneath it like a quilt. The sun was a vivid coral as it drifted toward the sea. Faye studied the scene before her with great attention, doing her best to ignore the fact that she would soon climb into Alice Price’s antique bed. Was Jim thinking about that, too? Did it feel strange to him to have another woman in this room?

      The thought slipped from her mind, though, as he began undressing her. Lovemaking with Jim was slow and sweet, and Judy had been right about him leaving her satisfied. Judy would have to speculate about that, though, since Faye had stopped sharing private information with her and Leda, much to their frustration.

      After they made love and darkness had fallen in the room, Jim hugged her close and let out a long sigh. It sounded like contentment to her, and she nestled her head against his shoulder.

      “I’ve been thinking about you a lot the past couple of days,” he said, rubbing her bare shoulder.

      “You have?”

      “I want you to know how much I’ve appreciated all the listening you’ve done,” he said. “I haven’t been able to talk to anyone the way I’ve talked to you in a very long time. Maybe never.”

      She was touched. “I’m glad you’ve felt able to,” she said, resting her palm flat against his chest.

      “I realized, though, that you haven’t really told me much about yourself,” he continued. “You tell me how you feel about things, and I really like that. You’re such a straight shooter. I don’t have to guess with you. But …” His voice trailed off.

      “But?”

      “I don’t know anything about your past.”

      “Ah,” she said. She’d hoped to avoid talking to him about her past, but clearly that was going to be impossible.

      “Here’s what I know,” he said. “You grew up in North Carolina, like I did. You were an only child. Your parents are dead. You have no children. You were married, but your husband died long ago and you haven’t dated since. But I don’t know what it was like for you growing up, or what your parents did for a living, and that’s my fault for not asking questions. I know that. And I’m sorry.”

      “It’s all right,” she said.

      “The biggest blank of all is your marriage.” His hand toyed with her hair where it fell in wisps at the back of her neck. “Your husband,” he said. “You never talk about him. You know all about Alice. I talk about her too much, I suppose.” He laughed self-consciously and she felt a little sorry for him.

      “No, you don’t,” she reassured him.

      “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry I haven’t asked you about these things before now,” he said. “That I haven’t given you the chance to tell me about yourself. I hope you haven’t misconstrued that as disinterest. It’s really been …” He laughed. “It’s been selfishness, pure and simple. I needed to dump my problems onto you. But I’m ready now.”

      She was quiet, and he nudged her.

      “So go ahead,” he said. “Tell me.”

      She let out her breath. “Oh,” she said, “this is hard.”

      “Why is it hard?”

      She could feel the blank slate he’d placed in front of her, waiting for her to fill it. “Some things are difficult to talk about,” she said. “But I do want to tell you. I want a good relationship with you and I know I can’t build one on lies.”

      “Have you been lying to me?” It sounded as though this was not a complete surprise to him.

      “Yes,” she said, “though mostly through omission.”

      “You can tell me anything,” he said, and she wondered if he knew what he was getting himself into.

      “I have to ask you to keep what I say just between us, okay?” she asked. “I mean, I’m ready to tell you … some things … but not the world.”

      “All right.”

      She was quiet a moment, forming her thoughts, and he spoke before she could get the first word out.

      “You have had a child,” he said.

      The question surprised her. Of the things she was preparing to say, that was low on her list. “Yes, I have,” she said. “But how did you know?”

      “Your body gave it away.”

      “My stretch marks?”

      He laughed. “You are so self-conscious about your body,” he said. “I didn’t notice any stretch marks. But the color of your nipples. The areolae are dark.”

      “That’s what I get for dating a doctor,” she said.

      “Did you lose the child?”

      She pressed her palm against his chest again, trying to formulate her response. “Yes,”