A Lonely Sky (13 page)

Julia looked down at her plate. She really didn’t need to hear about love, brass rings or anything that might lead her to think illogically about Sam again.

“I’m sorry I missed seeing you last night,” she said, hoping to politely change the subject.

“Oh, not to worry.” Polly passed her a small basket of scones. “My medication makes me sleepy. But I’m glad we have this chance to get together. I hear you’re going out with Sam again, today. Barnabas told me, of course.”

“Yes. We’re going to Westminster.”

“I see.” Polly put her letters aside. “Is everything all right then? You see, I heard you crying last night.”

Julia nearly dropped her butter knife as her face flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not to worry. Sturdy old house, this is, but walls thin as silk. What made you so unhappy, dear?  Is Sam treating you poorly?”

Julia replaced the knife on her plate. “He’s very sweet. I’m just a bit homesick.”

“Well, why don’t you ring your parents instead of your girlfriend then?”

Julia didn’t know how to reply. Barnabas must have told Polly she phoned Kim instead of home each evening. She owed it to Polly to be honest. After all, Mrs. McTeel let her board in her home, free of charge, and paid for the phone calls.

She stared down into her lap. “My father doesn’t know I’m here and my mother is dead.”

Polly reached for her coffee. “I see.”

Julia expected a stern look of disapproval or pity, but found neither. Polly’s eyes offered only empathy and security for secrets. Before she knew it, Julia found herself opening to Mrs. McTeel. She told about her mother’s illness, her overly strict father, nursing school and how she met Sam.

Throughout the account, Mrs. McTeel sat and listened. She simply let Julia talk.

“So, I think,” Julia concluded. “That everything just came to a head and I had a good cry, and now it’s done and when I go home everything will be better.”

“You really think so?” Polly’s sudden interjection burst Julia’s the optimistic bubble.

She sat back in her chair, feeling comfortable enough to abandon any pretense of confidence. “No. I think it will be worse, actually. It makes me sad to think about leaving.”

“You’ll miss Sam.” Polly spoke without question or hesitation.

Julia studied Polly. Did Mrs. McTeel suspect her feelings for Sam? Had she been that obvious?  She chose her words carefully. “Yes, well, he’s been a good friend. Very trustworthy. Very helpful.”

“You make him sound like a puppy!” Polly shifted in her chair as if insulted. “From here on out we shall call him Rover.”

Julia laughed, and it felt good.

“Now there’s your smile,” Polly helped herself to another cup of coffee. “I will be honest with you, Julia, because frankly, I’m old and I can be and I don’t much care what people think of me at this point, and even if I did care, I’m not sure I would remember it from one day to the next.”

Julia tensed, not knowing what to expect from Mrs. McTeel, this kind lady who boldly spoke her mind.

“The thing is, Julia, Sam needs you and I believe you need Sam. There’s a discontent in you both that I feel when I’m with either of you alone, but when you are together in a room…well, let’s just say, if Sam hadn’t assured me otherwise, I thought you’d been lovers.”

Julia nearly fell off her chair. “It’s not like that.”

“Yes, but it should be. I know when two people are right for each other, mark my words. I was married to Mr. McTeel, bless his dearly departed soul, for nearly forty-five years, and I had many, many proposals before I accepted his. When I was with Michael, I knew he was the one. Just like I know you and Sam belong together.”

“Well, I’m not going to be in London very long,” Julia said, as if by convincing Mrs. McTeel that no relationship could exist, she might convince herself.

“Then you’ve got your work cut out for you, my dear.” It was a commandment, not a suggestion.

Julia wondered what Polly expected her to do.

“And, Julia my dear.” Mrs. McTeel said, rising from her chair. “I suggest you move quickly.”

Sam slammed down the phone receiver and kicked a book across the floor of his flat. So much for trying to do the right thing. His gallant call to Deirdre to apologize for leading her to believe that Julia was his girlfriend at Spencer’s party only ended with more fighting. Why couldn’t Deirdre accept that he could not marry her?  Why did she throw everything back in his face, making him acknowledge what he suspected anyhow, that without her, he was nothing besides a semi-talented actor who would never achieve fame and fortune?

“Once that little Julia goes home,”
Deirdre said. “
Your head will clear, and you’ll see what you had before she came along. Me.”

He hated to admit it, but Deirdre hit a nerve.
“Once Julia goes home...”

He glanced at the calendar strewn haphazardly on his desk and noted a date he circled. “Julia, Airport,” it read.

Deirdre was wrong. Nothing would be better when Julia left. He enjoyed being with her, looked forward to it, felt buoyed knowing his day would be spent with her. He missed her already, just thinking of her impending departure.

But Julia had to leave. She had a life back home, and, as Polly discreetly mentioned to him, a boyfriend.

“Face it,” Sam said to himself as he reached for his keys. “She doesn’t need you. You’re just her tour guide.” He checked his appearance in an oval wall mirror. “And you don’t need her.”

An hour later, on their way to Westminster Abbey, Sam and Julia sat side by side on the London Underground. Julia seemed unusually reserved and Sam wondered if the encounter with Deirdre the night before bothered her more than she let on.

“You’re quiet today, Julia.” Sam said. “Homesick?”

“No. Not at all. I’m happy here, Sam.”

But she didn’t look happy. She seemed worried, nervous or sad. He couldn’t read her.

They both fell silent again, and didn’t speak until the train reached their destination.

Ascending from the Underground, they walked to Westminster. Sam pointed out various historical landmarks as Julia snapped pictures.

They ended their walking tour at the north entrance to Westminster Abbey. Sam escorted her into the church and paid for their tour.

“It’s pretty quiet today,” he whispered, as they joined a small group of tourists and guide.

Sam and Julia listened intently as the guide explained the history of the great Abbey and told of the famous people buried there. As the tour drew to a close, their guide invited them to walk about on their own, enjoy the beauty and solitude of the nave and cloisters, or simply take a few moments to light a candle and pray. Sam gently took Julia by the elbow and guided her through the cloisters and into the nave.

“Shall we sit for a bit?” Sam pointed to a set of chairs. They sat side by side, again in silence, amid the vast beauty of the church.

“This is my favorite part of the Abbey,” Sam said, as the other tourists eventually wandered off. His deep voice resonated like music in the still and silent air.

“It is quiet,” Julia said. “But nice.”

“Yes quite.”

Nice?
He knew, given her love of England and her knowledge of its history, that she felt more about the Abbey. Big Ben was “nice”. Westminster was so much more.

Sam glanced over at Julia, but her expression was blank. Something was still wrong. Where was the happy girl of yesterday?  He wanted to see her joy again.

He drew a deep breath and reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away. He spoke softly. “I’ve shown you sites in London, Julia, but
this
is England. And I don’t mean the chapel per se. England is in the
history
buried here. Can you hear it, Julia?  Can you feel it?  Shakespeare, Chaucer and Lord Byron beneath us. The composer, Handel, and believe it or not, even some actors lie here as well. Then there are the lords and ladies and kings and queens entombed, secrets buried with them.” Sam searched her face again, knowing in his heart that Julia must be the one who understood the passion entombed in these great walls. “Do you feel it, Julia? Do you sense it?”

Julia’s voice was barely a whisper. “I feel it, Sam, I really do.” She squeezed his hand and for the first time that day, smiled.

“Sometimes I swear I can hear the silent voices forever stilled,” Sam continued, buoyed by her response. “I feel love that lives forever. Many a queen and nobleman went to the block rather than deny their faith, their lover, or their beliefs.”

Julia’s eyes met his. “I feel them, Sam.”

She knew. She understood.

Sam leaned towards her, caught up in the way Julia’s blue eyes burned with the passion he felt in his heart. He gently cupped her chin and pulled her close.

Julia lifted her lips to his. He could feel her breath close and hot against his own.

“Once Julia goes home…”
Deirdre’s words slashed the air between them, clanging louder and louder in Sam’s mind, as if bells tolling for the dead. Sam released Julia and stood.

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

Sam gazed down at her. A world of hurt and confusion marred her lovely face and the distress in her eyes would haunt him forever.

“I’m sorry, I-” He ran his hands through his hair; words eluded him.

Julia stood, looking everywhere but at him. “No, that’s okay. I didn’t mean -”

Sam shook his head and held up his hand. He couldn’t bear it if she felt guilty of anything. This was his fault. His emotions got the best of him.

“We better go.” He hoped to gloss over the previous moment with an air of nonchalance. “You’re probably hungry and I need a smoke.”

Julia shook her head and walked past him towards the entrance to the cloisters.

Sam watched her walk away.

“Damn you, Deirdre,” he said, under his breath. “
Damn you
.”

Julia sat silent, barely hearing Sam’s monotonous liturgy of small talk as they rode the Underground to his flat. He prattled on about landmarks and the history of street names but she hardly registered a word, her thoughts lost in what happened, or
didn’t
happen, at Westminster.

She had been so sure Sam wanted to kiss her, and then he didn’t. And then, as she walked away, she heard him mention Deirdre. Had she imagined he tried to kiss her? Or did she try to kiss him?  And if so, what was she thinking?  Hadn’t she convinced herself this morning that she wasn’t in love with Sam?

Julia recalled her breakfast conversation with Mrs. McTeel. The kind lady hinted that Julia belonged with Sam. But in the Abbey, Sam thought of Deirdre!

Julia sighed. He didn’t need or want her. She had half a mind to go home early. That would show him!

They arrived at his flat and Sam asked her to wait outside while he went in and retrieved a picnic lunch. Julia fumed as she waited on the steps. How could he act like things between them hadn’t changed?

On his return with a large wicker basket, Sam resumed his chatter as they rode a bus to St. James Park. Did he even notice how quiet she’d become? He selected a lunch spot near a willow tree and duck pond. As Sam spread a red and white checkered tablecloth on the grass, Julia watched in silence, purposely not offering to help. He set out an appetizing lunch of cheese, bread, fruit and wine. Uncorking the bottle, he poured the beverage into two plastic cups and invited her to sit. She sat, and he handed her a cup.

“I don’t drink,” she said, and placed the cup on the tablecloth. “You know that.”

“Nor do you have to,” Sam replied, his voice kind and undemanding. “But if you want it, it’s there. I also brought water.” He handed her a paper plate. “You do eat, yes?”

“Yes, I eat, thank you.” She accepted the plate and filled it with an assortment of items. Chewing delicately on a grape, she looked towards the pond, aware of Sam’s eyes on her as she watched the small ripples lap at the shore.

“Are you happy here?” His question came from nowhere and unnerved her.

As she turned to him to answer, the memory of his lips so near to her own caused the heat to rise in her cheeks. Why wouldn’t that moment leave her mind and why did he stare at her as if he knew exactly what she thought? 

“Well, of course I am happy! This has been my dream forever. I’m in England. What more could I want?” She threw a piece of cheese to a stray duck.

“You don’t seem happy today.” Sam leaned on his elbows and studied her. “I was just thinking you might miss someone at home.”

She avoided his eyes, afraid if she looked at him, her anger would melt beneath his gaze. “I miss my father, although I’ll be seeing him soon. And I talk with Kim every day on the phone, and-”

“I meant your boyfriend.” Sam reached for his wine.

Julia startled. “How do you know I have a boyfriend?”

“Polly mentioned it one morning while I waited for you. I’m just surprised you never mentioned him.”