Julie's Butterfly (23 page)

C
HAPTER
30

Bastian could hardly catch his breath. It was as if someone were squeezing him until the oxygen left his lungs. If it went on any longer, he would begin to hyperventilate. His thoughts were spinning out of control. He knew only one thing: what she was asking of him was impossible.

Why couldn’t she see it? After all they had been through together, she must realize that.

He gazed into her big brown eyes in search of the same understanding that had helped him through his crises great and small over the past few months. But her eyes were devoid of all expression.

“I think you’d better leave,” she said flatly.

Very well.

He had to get out of there.

Without uttering another word, he grabbed his gloves and rushed out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him. He pulled on his gloves as he ran down the hall and immediately felt more secure. But as soon as he was out on the street, he almost fell to his knees, fighting for breath. Gasping, he stared at the black asphalt.

He had known something wasn’t right. All evening, he had been aware of a strange feeling, but never in his life had he expected anything like this.

How could he have been so stupid?

She had assured him that her pill was totally reliable, and they had spoken no more about it. Because he had trusted her.

And now this.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so disappointed in his life. She had moved the goalposts completely.

She would come to realize that her plans were completely crazy. His solution was the only answer; it was reasonable and responsible. If she would only step back and think about it, she’d be bound to come to her senses sooner or later. He simply had to wait it out.

It wouldn’t be easy, but that’s what he would do.

C
HAPTER
31

Julie looked around in bewilderment. She was sitting in her parents’ house across from her mother, who was looking at her suspiciously. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there, but she must have somehow managed to get dressed and make her appearance for Sunday-afternoon coffee.

Her father entered the room. “Joanna called. She’ll be a little late.”

“Why?” asked Louisa.

“Car trouble,” said Joseph, sinking down onto the sofa next to Julie’s mother. “A wonderful day for golf,” he remarked.

Bright light was shining through the window, giving the day a deceptively idyllic feel. Julie felt indescribably cold, but if this was because of the weather, she had no idea. She had felt it constantly for two days now. She was freezing all the time, no matter how many sweaters she piled on.

The clattering of a porcelain cup snapped her out of the fog of her thoughts.

“Honestly, Julietta,” said Louisa after putting her cup down on the table with excessive force. “I’d appreciate it if you could grace us with your attention as well as your physical presence.”

“Sorry.”

Joseph looked toward the window. “I’m going out later to check the measurements on a new piece of land. Maybe I should make the most of this weather by playing a round on my way.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Louisa demanded, taking no notice of her husband.

“Nothing,” replied Julie flatly as she reached for her cheesecake. She absently raised a bite to her mouth and felt the cool cheesecake slip down her dry throat. Suddenly, she began to choke and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She put her plate down and ran out of the room.

“Julietta!” Her mother’s indignant voice called out, but Julie was incapable of answering. She pressed her hand over her mouth and headed blindly for the guest bathroom, where she threw up.

Afterward, she splashed cold water on her face. She straightened herself up and looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She looked as bad as she felt. There were deep shadows under her eyes, windows into the depths of her despair. Her fair skin was far too pale, her lips colorless. She was a horrifying sight and had nothing in common with the cheerful woman she had been just a few days before.

She filled her cupped hands with water once more and wetted her face in the hope of stimulating a healthier color, but it was futile. She took a deep breath and returned to the parlor on shaky legs.

Her mother was looking at her expectantly from the sofa. Her father stood at the window, hands linked behind his back. His face showed a mixture of concern and helplessness.

“What’s the meaning of this, Julietta?” asked her mother.

“I’ve probably got some stomach trouble,” murmured Julie, reeling slightly beneath her mother’s gaze. She couldn’t bring herself to sit back down. “I think I’d better go.”

“You wouldn’t be pregnant, would you?” shot out Louisa.

The last thing she wanted just then was to discuss this with her parents. She couldn’t. She shook her head wordlessly.

Louisa narrowed her eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Julietta.”

But it was pointless to deny it. Her mother knew what was the matter. Julie squared her shoulders and looked her mother straight in the eye. “Yes, I’m expecting a baby.”

Louisa gasped for air. “By that penniless—”

“Louisa!” interjected Joseph sharply. He walked over from the window and positioned himself behind Louisa as if prepared to cover her mouth to deflect any further verbal attacks. Julie found his gesture heartening.

She stuck her chin out rebelliously. “By that penniless what, Mother?”

“Oh, don’t think we don’t know about it,” replied Louisa, trembling with indignation.

“About what?”

“About this—this disease,” she hissed.

“Quiet now,” Joseph warned.

Julie looked incredulously from her mother to her father and back as every last drop of color drained from her face. Of course she had taken her sister into her confidence some time ago, but she would never in her wildest dreams have imagined her parents also knew. “You’re aware of it? But how?”

“At my birthday party, Bastian had to remove his gloves. Joanna and I came upon him by accident,” explained Joseph in a composed voice.

That had been months ago. They had seen one another several times since then, but neither of them had said a word. On the other hand, she was not surprised at their silence. Her parents were experts at handling problems with discretion. Bastian was just one more item on their endless list.

But the fact that Jo had said nothing to her . . . Julie felt most betrayed by her.

“What do you intend to do now, Julietta?” demanded her mother.

“I don’t know.”

Louisa tutted in annoyance. “You’re not seriously considering keeping this baby?”

“And why shouldn’t I keep it?” countered Julie, berating herself for being so stupid even as she uttered the words. She had opened herself up for attack with that question, which was not long in coming.

“You’re a single medical student struggling to support yourself by waitressing. Your current situation is totally unsuitable for bringing up a child. You’ve got nothing to offer it. Nor does your moderately successful photographer with deficient genes,” she spat. Her words made Julie feel nauseated again. “Have you asked yourself what it will be like if your child has the same disorder as its father? How much of a burden that would be? You can’t be serious, Julietta.”

“That’s enough,” barked Joseph.

“Oh, but I am,” Julie said, looking at her mother with disgust. “It’s my decision. No one’s but mine.” Then she turned on her heel and marched out.

Her parents did not follow her, which was probably for the best, as she would not have been responsible for her actions.

Somehow she made it home. With the last of her strength, she managed to take off her shoes and crawl into bed with her cardigan still on. She pulled her blankets up over her head and lay there in her safe little world, relishing the protection it provided from the storm that raged outside.

She heard her phone ringing and someone talking into her answering machine. Judging from the barrage of words, it must be Isabelle. Her cell phone also buzzed a few times, and then finally her doorbell rang.

But Julie stayed where she was.

She lost all sense of time and place. She had no idea whether minutes or hours had passed, but she eventually heard footsteps and Jo’s panic-stricken voice echoing through the apartment. She must have used her spare key to let herself in.

“Julie!” she called. This was followed by a relieved sigh when she reached the bedroom and spotted Julie’s form nestled beneath the blankets. “Oh, you poor thing,” she said.

Julie heard a rustling, then the mattress sank down as Jo crept into bed beside her. She burrowed under the blankets until they were lying face-to-face.

“Hey,” said Jo. She gently stroked Julie’s cheek, wiping away the tears trickling unnoticed down her face.

“Hey,” she croaked back.

The sisters looked at each other for a long moment. Jo didn’t push her. She simply waited until Julie was ready to talk.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally announced with a sniffle.

Jo gave her a sympathetic smile. Julie realized that Jo must already know. Her mother would undoubtedly have called her immediately and ranted about Julie’s mess of a life.

“Bastian doesn’t want our child,” Julie continued hoarsely.

Jo’s smile froze. “He said that to you?” she asked, her tone betraying her incredulity. When Julie nodded, she saw her sister’s features harden. Suddenly, she looked alarmingly similar to their mother. Her face uncharacteristically angry, she took Julie in her arms. “Everything will be OK,” she whispered.

Julie wanted so much to believe her, but she burst into hopeless tears, venting all her pent-up despair, sadness, and rage.

Jo remained at her side, stroking her back soothingly and waiting until all her tears were spent. Julie finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

When Julie awoke the next morning, her eyes were so swollen she could hardly open them. She sniffled loudly and threw back the blankets so that she could breathe more easily.

Jo was no longer lying next to her but was talking in a hushed voice in another room. She soon returned with a steaming cup and a bowl. She looked tired. Her sweater was crumpled, and there was a small coffee stain on her jeans.

“Good morning, Sis,” she said affectionately. “I’ve brought you some tea and a little muesli. Try and eat something.” She held the bowl out to Julie and waited for her to sit up before settling down cross-legged on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“As if someone tore my heart out and shot it off into space,” replied Julie as she stirred the spoon despondently in the bowl of muesli.

“Listen, I know this is a huge blow to you,” began Jo tentatively, “but whatever you’re feeling right now, don’t forget there’s another little heart beating inside you. You’ve got to take better care of yourself.”

Jo had always been the voice of reason whenever Julie felt she couldn’t cope. Of course her sister was right; however much she wanted to let herself go, it would be irresponsible to do so. As she brought a spoonful of muesli to her mouth, Jo nodded with satisfaction. She chewed mechanically, swallowed, and ate another spoonful. It was amazingly comforting. When she had had enough, she set the bowl down on the bedside table.

“Do you have any idea how far along you are?” Jo asked.

“I’m guessing it’s about the sixth or seventh week.”

“When did you find out?”

“I’ve suspected it for a while, but I’ve only known for sure since Friday.” Julie relayed the evening’s events to her in detail, fighting back tears all the while. She was surprised there were any left.

“You should have seen Mom’s reaction,” she said bitterly and blew her nose noisily before looking at Jo reproachfully. “Why didn’t you tell me that they’ve both known about his disease for ages?”

Jo shrugged awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” she said, fiddling nervously with the hem of her sweater. “Dad and I came across him by chance at the birthday party, and you told me about it not long after that. Dad asked me about it a few weeks later, when we were all at the company barbecue.” She looked at Julie uncertainly. “Dad was worried about you. He figured it couldn’t be a temporary thing since Bastian was still wearing those gloves in the height of summer, and he wanted to be sure it wasn’t something that could put you at risk. I told him you’d never be so stupid, but he wanted to know for sure, so in the end, I told him that Bastian suffers from epidermolysis bullosa.”

So that was how her mother knew it was a genetic disorder.

“You should have told me,” she scolded.

“I know, but I didn’t want to put you under any pressure. I was hoping you’d tell them yourself when the time was right. If I’d had any idea of the consequences of staying silent, I’d have warned you.”

“It wouldn’t have changed Mom’s reaction one bit,” said Julie in an attempt to reassure her. “In her eyes, there’s nothing worse.”

Jo shook her head anxiously. “I still can’t believe it. You were so happy together. Don’t you think he might just have had a massive panic attack and is now deeply regretting what he said?”

Part of Julie wished that was the case—that tiny naive part that still hoped they could eventually be a happy family. But she knew that was only an illusion; it would never happen. Not now, and not in the future.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”