Seeing Julia (12 page)

“You’re killing me. I don’t want to see him.”

“He’s just called off his wedding. Give the guy a break.” Kimberley gets this weird speculative look as she throws me a towel. I begin drying off too upset to speak. “You’re getting too thin.”

“Don’t change the subject. We’re not through talking about this. Why would you invite him here?”

“Look, Julia.” Kimberley adopts her most soothing tone. The one she only invokes with her clients when they’re behaving badly. “He doesn’t really have any place to go. He was supposed to be getting married this weekend in Austin. His best friend just died. He called off his wedding and pretty much everyone in that town is in an uproar about him canceling it. Apparently, the bride is related to most of them and these kinds of things just take on a life of their own. And his ex-bride is in a raging snit over it. There are other names I would describe her as, if Jake wasn’t a client.” She uses her index fingers for quotation marks when she says the word client. “So, give the guy a break. By the parade of flowers he’s sent you, I think you can safely say he’s sorry for his momentary transgression with you. And, I think we can agree worse things have happened to both of you.”

And this is exactly why all her clients clamor to work with her, the woman is never fearful of calling things out; even though I’m stunned by what’s she said. Kimberley rarely directs her wrath at me. In a huff, she steps into a red silk dress and clips her hair back. She shoots me a dagger look. Remorse begins to filter through, but the guilt and grief I’ve been swimming with all day wins out.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Can I just tell you … that it’s been a very trying day?” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the sudden threat of tears.

Kimberley tosses lingerie my way, some all red and black lace ensemble to match the dress she’s bought for me. I let my hair fall forward to hide my face, so she won’t guess I’m crying. I focus on producing more material from the skimpy bra, camisole, and panties, by pulling this way and that, but finally give up.

“What happened with Dr. Stevenson today?” she asks. “You were with him over an hour. What did you two talk about?” There’s that supernatural perception of hers.

“Oh you know…” I attempt to smile, but fail. “I got to tell him about the whole Elizabeth shrine story today. How Evan left me before Reid was born. And my feelings surrounding all of that.”

I wave through the air with one hand and swipe at a tear with the other but miss. A silent Kimberley holds out the dress and I step into it. She zips it up and hugs me from behind.

“Here I was complaining about Gregoire driving me crazy. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I’ve done enough talking about my feelings for one day. Thank you very much. I don’t’ know why I even said anything. He has this uncanny way of making me talk about things I’ve left unsaid for years. God. It’s painful, like opening Julia’s personal Pandora’s Box of everything bad that’s ever happened. And I love Evan. I do. I love … loved him.” I struggle with even thinking past tense. “I still love him. And, I shouldn’t have told the good doctor so much. It’s in the past. None of it matters. I just wish … I just wish so much Evan was here.”

“Me too. I loved him, too,” she says with a sigh. “I just wish he hadn’t hurt you before. God, Julia I just want your life to work out. I want that for you so much.”

“It wasn’t perfect,” I whisper.

“No, but it was grand. He made you happy. This last summer. The two of you. I saw it. Everyone did. And, then, Reid … surely he makes it all worth it.” Kimberley lets go grabs a tissue and dabs it at her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited Jake. Or at least asked you first.”

“Yes. You should have. Whatever.” I give her a rueful glance. “We’re going to have to see each other eventually; it’s probably best to get it over with. But I don’t want to talk about Hamilton Equities or Jake Winston, his benevolence or otherwise, tonight,” I say. “It’s my baby’s first Christmas and he’s all I want to focus on.”

“It’s all about Reid.” Kimberley laughs.

“My baby’s first Christmas.”

I turn side to side in the mirror and stare at the stranger looking back at me. Grief has ravaged my body as well as my spirit. I look like a waif or a fairy in this black silk dress. Make-up does a pretty good job of hiding the dark circles under my eyes, but days of sorrow have taken their toll on my physical form.

“I’ll probably be sporting a grey hair or two next.”

“No, you won’t.” Kimberley doesn’t fully mask her own sadness. It crosses her features for a moment and then it’s gone.
We all miss Evan.
“You look fantastic, Jules. We’re not going to be sad tonight or tomorrow. We’re not.” Kimberley steps back to survey me one more time.

“Okay.” She looks surprised when I agree. “Hey Kimmy? Thanks.” I hug her close. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Same,” the PR wonder girl says back to me.

≈ ≈

Bernard and Francesca Powers arrive from New Haven around five. My parents have been dead for almost ten years and Kimberley’s family has been a part of my life for eight. I hug them close and take delight in the way they fawn over Reid. My seven-month-old looks like a little angel in his white sweater with a snowman imprint, red little vest and black sweater pants with the black and white spat shoes Kimberley bought for him. I take a few pictures of the group with the digital camera Evan bought me a couple of months before and smile at the sight of my son and this quasi family surrounding me.

Within a few hours, Kimberley’s promise of this party just being the close inner circle increases to more than thirty people as neighbors stop by, including Robert and Helen Hamilton, Evan’s parents. Helen even makes an attempt to be nice to me, though we all know she longs for her first choice in a daughter-in-law, that one being dead and buried next to Evan. Lianne rescues Reid from the cloying woman’s arms and takes him upstairs to get him ready for bed, while I try to make idle conversation with my grieving in-laws.

I’m on edge. Of course, I am. The unexpected appearance of Evan’s parents and the inevitable question of: What are you going to do, Julia? A question that’s been posed by just about everyone in this room adds to my inner turmoil.

What am I going to do?
Tonight, I’m going to get good and drunk; and tomorrow I’m going to stay in bed all day. After that? Who knows? Of course, I can’t share these plans with anyone, Robert and Helen, least of all.

I can only hope they don’t stay too long. Kimberley rescues me after another ten minutes and pulls me across the room from them, pressing a margarita into my hand.

“Sorry,” she says with a heartfelt groan. “I invited them because I didn’t think they’d come. And, if we didn’t invite them, they’d hear about it. Shit. I’m sorry.”

She knows my pain about them, too.

“Maybe they won’t stay long,” I say under my breath.

“They won’t,” Kimberley promises.

≈ ≈

Half past eight, I glance at my watch. As if a visitation from Evan’s parents isn’t enough to fill me with anxiety, now, I’m bracing for the appearance of one Mr. Jacob Winston. I take a deep breath and another swig of my margarita, but neither, steady breathing nor tequila, can calm the edginess raging inside of me now.

“Jules? Are you even listening to me?” Kimberley’s brother Brian asks.

“What? Sorry. No. What did you say?” I touch his hand.

Brian shakes his head and grins. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. I think I’ll step out on the deck and get some fresh air. Can we talk a little later?” I give Brian a reassuring hug and escape through one of the French doors and watch him saunter off in the direction of the food table.

The roaring surf of the Atlantic welcomes me. The muted sounds of the party inside fade away as I near the edge of the deck, lean against the rail and look out at the dark ocean. I breathe deep and experience simple serenity from the crisp salty air that December always brings. Standing here for a few minutes, reflecting, I realize I’ve been anxious, since the Hamilton’s arrival. I cannot be what they want to me to be. I’m not Elizabeth. Now, it’s true more than ever.

I lean back against the railing with my back to the ocean and watch the party underway inside. Kimberley is draped in an embrace with Gregoire; she certainly isn’t suffering with doubt about Mr. Chantal tonight. I lost her attentiveness about a half-hour ago with his arrival. For a girl who normally doesn’t care for the one-woman-only type guy, Gregoire has made quite an impression on her. I watch the connection emanate from both of them and chase away the sadness that shimmers within me just below the surface. I’m alone in the after again.

“You always spy on your family this way, Mrs. Hamilton?”

Jake Winston’s recognizable southern accent greets me. I turn in the direction of the stairs leading from the beach and spy a dark figure.

“You always arrive at a party on foot, Mr. Winston? And, all dressed up, too?” The sheen of his dark suit, white dress shirt, and silver tie reflect in the moonlight. “How do you do it?”

“Just talented at staying out of the surf, I guess.” Jake takes the stairs two at a time and comes to stand beside me.

“And, how are you going to get back when the tide is full?” I look up at him.

He cocks his head as if in deep thought. “Very carefully,” he drawls.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Winston.” I hold out my hand and he grips it firmly in his.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hamilton.”

He still holds on to my hand and this strange sensation travels through me. He must feel something, too, because he gives me this odd look as he lets go. “Julia . . .” he says, hesitant.

“You’re not going to apologize again; are you? I think you’ve done enough of that for both of us.” I incline my head as I say this. “It was a weird night full of strange and very sad circumstances. That’s all.” I take a deep breath. “I just want to say, thank you. Thank you for saving me that night. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just didn’t see a way to start over and there you were.”

“And now?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I was very sad. And well, still sad, but handling it much better.” I wince, recalling the intimate scene between the two of us ten days before. Being this close to him again stirs up these strange sensations all over again. And, just how much better am I handling things? The ocean swim from two days ago and Kimberley’s subsequent rescue comes to mind. He gives me an intense look and I glance away before he can guess at my innermost thoughts. I lean my arms against the railing and look out at the darkness. The roaring waves of the Atlantic still make their presence known from behind me. “Thank you for the flowers, the cards. Very thoughtful. I could open up a flower shop with all you’ve sent, from London, too, no doubt.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Sure. Sometimes, I’m okay for as much as an hour at a time. Kimmy’s here. Don’t tell her I said so, but she’s pretty militant about my regimen. Julia must get up today. Julia must get dressed. She’s pretty tough.” I glance sideways at him and see him smile and I laugh a little. “Let’s not talk about me anymore. Okay? I’m tired of being the center of attention.” I search for something else to say. “I’m sorry about your wedding, about you cancelling it and everything. Evan was looking so forward to being your best man.”

“Oh. Well, it just doesn’t seem like the right time to be getting married.” His tone is bleak and I try to discern what he’s thinking, but now it’s too dark to really see his face as the clouds shift over the moon obscuring the light.

“Well, postponing isn’t a bad thing.”

“I called it off, Julia. She’s not exactly speaking to me, right now.”

“Oh. Well. In a couple of months, things will look different. And maybe—“

“No.” He shakes his head side to side. “Things are already different. I tried to explain it to her.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, you just don’t do that. Cancel, I mean. Days before, not in Austin, anyway. She’s pretty pissed. Half the town is pissed. Sorry. I shouldn’t be swearing. It’s not your problem.”

“No. It’s okay. I love hearing about someone else’s problems. I’ve had so many of my own.” I grin over at him. A breeze comes up and I shiver at the cold. He slips off his jacket and puts it around my shoulders. “I’m sorry.” I touch his hand. “It’s sad when things don’t turn out the way we want them to.”

We share this companionable silence; both seemingly lulled by the waves of the Atlantic. Our hands grip the railing only an inch apart and this weird sensation dances between us like an electrical current traveling a wire.

“I should go in,” I say, breaking the moment. “Kimberley will organize a search party if I’m gone too long,” I laugh at my intended joke and he looks over at me in surprise. “I need to go check on Reid.”

“I’ll come with you. I want to see him.” Jake follows behind me and I hand him his jacket as we slip inside. We’re both served another round of drinks. Christian claims Jake’s attention, so I climb the stairs to Reid’ room alone.