breath. "Are you and Dad fighting?"

"Fighting?"

She looked away. "Are you going to get a divorce?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Grandma says you don't like Dad anymore."

"Grandma says that, huh? Well, I like your dad just fine."

"Do you still love him?"

Jill nodded. "Yes, I love him."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Angie, there's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them." Jill

leaned closer. "You live here, Angie. You can see how it is. How little time we spend

together. You can't sustain a marriage when you're never together."

"But that's your choice," Angie stated loudly. "You're the one who won't come to the

games, you're the one who wants to stay here alone."

"Angie, going to the games is not something I want to do. I don't enjoy them."

"But why?"

"I just don't. That's your dad's job. I have a job too. And when I get off work at five, I

don't want to have to go to your dad's job. Do you understand? It would be like me asking

him to come to my work, to follow me out to construction sites on payday, or to sit around

the office and watch me work."

"But that's not the same."

"Why not? Just because it's a game?" Jill shook her head. "When I get off of work, I want

to come home. I don't want to go to a second job."

Angie stared at her and nodded. "I think I understand now. When you come home, there's

nobody here."

"Exactly."

She shrugged. "So? Does that mean you're going to get a divorce?"

Jill sighed. "No. We're just working through some things now, Angie."

"Grandma says you're having an affair," Angie said quietly.

Jill smiled. "Grandma doesn't always know everything. She thinks she does but she

doesn't."

Angie stood and nodded, seemingly satisfied with their conversation. But Jill's smile faded

as soon as Angie slipped from the room. Was she having an affair? No. It felt too bright

and fresh, too joyous to be an affair.

But if it wasn't an affair, then what was it? How long could she continue to lie to her

family? How long could she continue to hide this new love she was feeling?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It was with a satisfied push of the button that Jill closed the gate behind her. Closed the

gate and closed out the world, if only for a day. But a whole day at that.

She parked beside Carrie's van, unable to contain the quiet laugh as she stepped out into

the sunshine, nearly giddy with the prospect of spending the day with Carrie. Angie had

been barely out the door when Jill grabbed the bag she'd packed the night before. A bag

stuffed with a change of clothes, two bottles of wine, her gardening gloves and a denim

baseball cap Craig rarely wore. For the last several weeks, Carrie had been adding flowers

to the gardens but this was the first opportunity Jill would have to play in the dirt with

her.

"When you said early, you weren't lying."

Jill turned, finding Carrie walking up from the pier, hands already muddy from the garden.

"You started without me," Jill accused.

"No, no. Planting is your chore today. I just brought the flowers down there then yanked a

few weeds."

Jill laughed. "You can always be in charge of the weeds."

Carrie pointed down the winding road. "The gate?"

Jill nodded. "Closed and locked."

"Wonderful. Then the day is ours." Carrie led the way into the cottage, pausing to brush

the dirt off her hands before going inside. "I took a chance you wouldn't want breakfast,"

she said. "But I made up some homemade chicken salad and picked up fresh sandwich rolls

at the bakery." She stopped and smiled. "Oh, and I got some of that cheese you like. Did

you remember the wine?"

Jill held up her bag. "Two bottles."

Carrie laughed. "Two? Are we going to make a day of it?"

Jill walked closer and leaned forward, lightly kissing Carrie on the lips. "We're going to

make a good day of it."

"Yeah, we are. And after you've had your fun playing in the dirt, we're going to go fishing."

"Fishing? Like in a canoe?"

"I was thinking more off the pier. After we've had a bottle of wine, I'm not sure we should

attempt a canoe lesson."

Jill put the two wine bottles on the bar then tossed her bag on the loveseat after pulling

out her gardening gloves.

"Can I go down?" she asked, her eyes bright.

Carrie smiled. "I'll be right behind you. I've made some iced tea. I'll bring out a couple of

glasses."

Jill stepped out into the sunshine and looked skyward, closing her eyes for a moment of

quiet reflection, conscious of the peacefulness she felt being here. It was indeed as if

they'd locked the world away.

"My mother used to call that woolgathering," Carrie said quietly from behind her.

Jill turned, finding Carrie's eyes. "Just thinking how nice it feels to be here."

Carrie nodded, her head tilted slightly. Then she raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, sure," Jill said quickly as she averted her eyes. Then she looked back at Carrie,

finding the same gentle look in her face as always. "Just... a lot of questions at home," she

finally said.

"I see. Well, let's go down to the pier. We'll talk," she said as she walked down the path.

Jill took one of the glasses of tea and waved her gloves in the air again. "I have flowers

calling my name," she reminded her.

"Then we'll talk as we plant."

And they did, talking about everything under the sun before Carrie finally broached the

subject of Jill's home life.

"It's one thing for Craig to want to discuss our marriage, quite another when my daughter

does," Jill said. She took her gloves off and wiped her forehead before sitting down crosslegged

on the ground. She absently brushed at the dirt clinging to her knees. "Arlene

suggested to Craig that we need to see a marriage counselor." Jill leaned forward. "Craig

tells her everything. I think it's just creepy for a son to discuss his sex life with his

mother."

Carrie nodded but said nothing.

"We—me and Craig—had a talk," Jill said quietly. "He's... well, he thinks I'm having an

affair."

Carrie tilted her head. "Aren't you?"

Jill slowly shook her head. "No. This doesn't feel like an affair to me."

Carrie let out her breath, a slight smile on her face. "Thank you," she whispered.

"But I don't know what to do," Jill said. "I can't... the thought of him touching me is nearly

repulsive."

"I didn't want to know if you were sleeping with him," Carrie admitted. "I couldn't stand

the thought, actually."

Jill looked away. "You've never really said... I mean, about James," Jill said.

Carrie shook her head. "I've not had sex with him, no. In fact, I doubt he's even noticed."

"What do you mean?"

Carrie stood, brushing the dirt from her jeans before answering. "James is a classic

workaholic. He has very little down time. He sleeps only four to five hours a night." She

shrugged. "It hasn't been an issue."

When Jill would have spoken, Carrie held up her hand. "I'm ready to trade this tea in for

wine. What do you say?"

"Excellent."

"Good. Then let's have an early lunch." Carrie pointed at the weathered picnic table. "You

want to eat out here or in the cottage?"

Jill laughed. "I want to be outside as much as you do."

After they washed up, they hauled their lunch down to the pier in a huge picnic basket,

wineglasses and all. Carrie tossed a blue cloth across the picnic table and Jill opened the

wine.

For the next hour, they sat in the sun trading stories, leisurely munching on chicken salad

sandwiches, cheese and fruit and fighting over the last of the wine.

"Do you realize how thoroughly I enjoy your company?" Carrie said as she set the empty

wine bottle aside.

Jill reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Yes," she said without question.

Carrie laughed.

"I didn't mean that to sound quite so conceited," Jill said. "I feel absolutely the same way."

She twisted her napkin between her fingers, finally looking up, meeting Carrie's eyes. "You

know, we can talk about anything, everything. We do talk about everything?, she said.

"Except us. We never talk about us."

Carrie held her eyes for a moment then looked away. "That's because I'm afraid of the

answers."

"What do you mean?"

"We want more time together but there is no more time. We both have husbands, kids."

Jill cleared her throat, again twisting her napkin nervously. "How long can we do this?" She

looked up into the clear sky above. "How long can I go on pretending to have a marriage

when I just want to be with you?"

"Don't you think I feel the same? But you have a fourteen-year-old daughter whose

relationship with you is tenuous at best. Are you willing to lose her?" Carrie took her hand,

rubbing lightly against the palm. "My boys... it's different," she said. "They're older, for

one thing. And Josh, well, Josh is my son. And Aaron worships the ground his father walks

on. I'm sure their loyalties would lie there as well. And James, well, James has been too

busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. He would be completely blown away, yes. But

it's not me I'm worried about. It's you, Jill."

"I know. Angie would never forgive me, would never understand. Craig would be

devastated." She squeezed Carrie's hand. "But I'm not sure how much weight all of that

holds. I'm miserable at home. And they both know it, they just don't know why."

Carrie leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, staring at Jill. "At

night when I'm in bed, you have no idea how much I long for it to be you beside me. I long

to sleep with you, to wake up with you." She leaned back again and idly twirled her empty

wineglass. "But we're not afforded that luxury."

Jill stared at the woman who had become so important to her, wondering what thoughts

were racing through her mind. Dare she bring up the one word that had not been uttered?

After knowing each other barely five months, dare she mention divorce? Was she ready to

sever her ties with Craig? Was she ready to cause a rift with Angie? But perhaps she was

premature. Had divorce even crossed Carrie's mind? Jill stared, waiting for the pale blue

eyes to look up, waiting for them to look into her very soul.

And they did. And as always—when those eyes held her—she was convinced she'd stared

into them many lifetimes ago.

Carrie finally smiled, releasing her. "I think I threatened you with fishing, didn't I?"

Jill relaxed, sensing Carrie had tired of their talk. So she let it go with a wave of her hand.

"And threatened is the appropriate word," Jill agreed.

"By the middle of summer, I'll have you begging to go fishing. And in the canoe, no less."

Carrie stood and motioned to the table. "If you'll pack all this back into the basket, I'll go

get the fishing poles and worms."

Jill's eyes widened. "Worms?"

Carrie just grinned as she walked back toward the garage. Jill cleaned up from their lunch,

her mind still locked on a dirty, wiggly worm.

"Surely she doesn't expect me to touch them," she muttered.

"It's just a worm," Carrie said patiently.

Jill shook her head. "Not doing it."

"Why not?"

"Well, gross and disgusting come to mind."

"I suppose if you catch a fish you'll want me to take it off of the hook for you too?"

"Trust me, I will not catch a fish."

"Don't be so sure. I always catch fish here off the pier," Carrie said and Jill watched in

revulsion as she weaved the nasty worm around the hook.

"That has got to be one of the grossest things I've seen in awhile," Jill murmured.

"You never went fishing as a kid?"