The ring of hope in his voice tore at her heart. For one infinitesimal second Julie was tempted to throw resolve to the wind and say yes. Instead, she asked, "If you left who would run the restaurant?"
"That would be no problem. The new cook is very competent and I could drive back to Summerville every day or so and check to see how things were going."
He would do that for her. Julie's heart melted but she couldn't let him come. Reaching deep inside, she found strength that until now she didn't know she possessed. "That's thoughtful of you, Royce, but no. I'll find plenty to keep me occupied for a couple of weeks and I'm sure Max will be there for the actual birth."
"You're sure?" How indignant he sounded. "How sure; don't you know?"
"He's attended all my child birthing classes with me." She was evading the question, and the truth, again.
"Why don't you just ask him if he's going to be there?"
This time Julie refused to use Royce as an emotional crutch. "I didn't call to discuss Max and me; I called to see if Steve Arnold still wants to buy my half of the Hungry Farmer."
"Why don't you give this idea of selling your share of the restaurant some more thought?" Royce pleaded. "There will be plenty of time after the baby comes to make your final decision."
"I have made my decision. It is final. I'm selling my share of the restaurant." She asked, "Does Steve Arnold want to buy it?"
Royce demanded hotly, "Was this Max's idea? Is he making you sell your business?"
"Max doesn't even know about this deal."
"And what about your house," Royce charged. "I saw a realtor's for sale sign in your front yard when I drove by the other day."
Julie wanted to tell him what she did with her house was none of his business; since she had involved him in every phase of her existence for years that would be both cruel and unjust. "I don't need the house any longer. Why should I keep it?"
"Where the hell do you plan to live?" Royce questioned hotly.
She couldn't tell him that either. "Just answer my question. Does Steve Arnold want to buy my share of the Hungry Farmer?"
"Don't tell me you're going to try to make a go of that farce of marriage." Royce didn't wait for an answer. "It won't work, Julie. You can't be happy living with Max."
"I'm not going to live with Max." She couldn't, not now, not after the way he'd deceived her about Andrea.
"Then where are you going to live?" Royce asked again, this time more gently.
If she ever intended to take control of her life, she had to start by asserting herself. "I don't think that's any of your business. If Steve decides to take me up on my offer tell him I'll be in Summerville in about two months. We can sign the papers then. If he's not interested, I'd like to know as soon as possible so I can begin to look for another buyer."
"Julie, please don't do this," Royce pleaded. "You and I are friends--no we're more than friends. We've shared so much through the years. Summerville is your home. You belong here."
She was being unkind but it some paradoxical way, that unkindness was also an act of compassion. "Will you talk to Steve?"
"I have." Royce answered, "He accepts your offer."
"Thank you, Royce." With Royce still protesting, Julie hung up the telephone and blinked away tears. His parting words still rang in her ears. You and I are friends--no we're more than friends. That was true. She loved Royce as she would love a kind and considerate older brother. But she had used him, just as he had used her. We've shared so much through the years. What they had shared was an unhealthy co-dependency that had grown over time to the point of being obsessive. Neither of them would ever be free to begin a separate life so long as they continued to cling to each other. Summerville is your home. Not anymore. It was time she moved on. You belong here. The problem was Julie didn't know where she belonged anymore. Despite her sadness, she felt a great weight had lifted from her shoulders. She had taken one more decisive step toward gaining control of her life.
Julie spent the remainder of the morning scanning the want ads in newspapers from Houston, Midland, Fort Worth, and San Antonio. She would need to work when she left Half Moon. With Mister Arnold's monthly payments augmenting her income she and her baby should be able to live quite comfortably. The profit from the sale of her house would provide her with a sizeable nest egg.
It was almost one o'clock before Julie had completed a resume and prepared it for mailing. She decided it was time she ate lunch. Since Christmas when she'd cooked dinner in Mrs. O'Brien's absence, she'd been preparing her own midday meal. At first Mrs. O'Brien had protested. "That's my job."
"I'm quite capable of making my own lunch," Julie had told her curtly.
"Then be my guest." Mrs. O'Brien had shot back before stalking from the room.
Julie thought as she seated herself at the kitchen table, that soon Mrs. O'Brien would have her little domain all to herself again. She had no doubt that the older woman would be glad to see her go. Julie picked up her spoon. She had to admit she had done little over the past few months to endear herself to Max's housekeeper.
But she was not the only one who had erected walls and barriers. From the beginning, Mrs. O'Brien had been reserved and standoffish but since she had returned to Half Moon shortly after the New Year and learned that Julie had cooked Christmas dinner in her kitchen during her absence, she had been even more cool and distant.
Still, that day was an occasion Julie would long remember as joyous and rewarding. Joe and Fred had been lavish in their praise of her traditional dinner and as excited as children about opening gifts around the Christmas tree later; even Max had relaxed and seemed to enjoy himself.
Julie's thoughts were broken by the sound of the front door slamming. Her spoon clattered to the table as she started and looked around.
"Mrs. O'Brien." Max's baritone voice boomed out into the quiet house. "Where are you?"
Mrs. O'Brien always disappeared into her own inner sanctum the moment Julie arrived in the kitchen. Julie was set to call out when she rushed into the room, smoothing her hair as she entered. "I'm here, Mr. Max."
Max came striding through the kitchen door. Julie looked at him and felt a rush of elation as her heart began to beat a little faster. He wore a heavy jacket and carried his hat in his hand. Cold from the outside still clung to him, giving his cheeks ruddy glow. She supposed if she lived to be a hundred, seeing Max enter a room would always have that effect on her.
The sight of her made him stop. "What are you doing here?" He seemed preoccupied, almost distraught. "I thought you'd be packing."
Julie's elation ebbed away as swiftly as it had surged forth. "I'm having lunch. I finished packing hours ago." Was he that anxious to be rid of her?
"Isn't it a little late to be eating your noon meal?" Max glanced at his watch. "It's one-thirty." Then turning to Mrs. O'Brien he asked, "Have you heard the latest weather report?"
"Yes, I watched the noon news." Mrs. O'Brien took an apron from a hook beside the cabinet and tied it around her middle. "I've checked the pantry and the freezer. We have enough supplies for at least a week."
Max shed his jacket and tossed it across the back of a kitchen chair. "Good. This storm may not be as bad as predicted but we should be prepared for the worst."
Mrs. O'Brien took a cup from a shelf in the cabinet. "Sit down, Mr. Max. I'll bring you a cup of coffee. Would you like some lunch?" She filled the cup from the urn on the counter.
Max sank down into the chair across from Julie. "Just coffee, please, I ate in the bunk house with the boys."
Mrs. O'Brien set the cup down in front of Max. "Did you get the hay to the north pasture?"
"We dropped the last few bales about an hour ago." Max took a quick sip of coffee. "We culled out the few cows in the herd with small calves and brought them back to the barn."
As she stirred her spoon around in her soup Julie realized that she hadn't heard any news at all for at least twenty-four hours. "Are you expecting bad weather?" She knew ho
w quickly a wind from the north could sweep down across the flat Texas countryside bringing with it wintry blasts of frigid cold. "Maybe I should pack an extra sweater."
Max leaned back in his chair pressed his fingers to his temples and massaged gently. "You might want to take an extra blanket too. The temperature is expected to drop to near zero by tomorrow afternoon."
Mrs. O'Brien chimed in, "There may even be some snow."
"You're tired," Julie observed as Max rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Why don't you rest for a while?"
Max gave her a wan smile. "If what the weather man says is true I'll have plenty of time to rest after tomorrow. This blizzard is supposed to be the worst in fifty years and it may last for days." He took another sip of coffee. "After I take you to Burke's Crossing tomorrow I can relax."
The words were spoken without malice still they cut deeply. Was she just another chore to be taken care of before he could rest? "I'm sorry to inconvenience you."
The lines around Max's mouth deepened. "Don't be so touchy. I didn't mean it that way." He extended one hand in a pleading gesture. "This ranching business is new to me and it's much more difficult than I had anticipated. This storm could decimate my herd."
She was being less than understanding. "I don't have to go to Burke's Crossing tomorrow. The baby's not due for another two weeks."
Mrs. O'Brien intervened. "You can never tell. The baby might come early."
Julie shook her head. "A pregnancy lasts two hundred and sixty-five days." She had calculated very carefully. "Trust me my baby will be born two weeks from today."
Mrs. O'Brien opened her mouth to answer and then apparently thought better of it.
Max pushed his coffee cup to one side. "Mrs. O'Brien is right. The baby could be early."
"I know when my baby will be born," Julie wanted to remind Max that it was possible to pinpoint almost to the minute when she had conceived this child. Mrs. O'Brien's presence stopped her. "But I'll be ready to go in the morning. What time would you like to leave?"
"I'd like to go around eight in the morning."
"I'll be ready." Feeling about as adroit as a rhinoceros Julie pushed her chair back and made ready to begin the slow process of standing to her feet.
"Don't go yet," A muscle flicked along the set line of Max's jaw. "There's something we need to discuss."
Julie settled once more in her chair and hitched it closer to the table.
Mrs. O'Brien cleared her throat. "If that's all Mr. Max, I'll go back to my room now."
The slight tilt of surprise that slanted Max's eyebrows said that he'd forgotten the other woman was in the room. "That's all. Thank you."
Mrs. O'Brien made for the door. "Call if you need me." With the slam of a door, Mrs. O'Brien was gone.
For several minutes Max sat staring over Julie's shoulder and out the kitchen window. Finally, he spoke. "The temperature outside now is forty-five degrees. It's hard to believe that by this time tomorrow it will have fallen into the low teens and the wind-chill factor will be near zero. That's deceit in one of her many guises, wouldn't you say?"
Julie had no idea what he was alluding to. "Did you ask me to stay here so we could discuss the weather?"
Max's knuckles whitened as his hands doubled into tight fists. "I'd like to discuss something a little more important than the weather." With an obvious effort he relaxed and dropped his hands from the table into his lap. "I had a call from Henry Taylor earlier today."
"Henry called you?" Had something happened to her house? Thank God she had insurance. Julie steeled herself for the worst. "What happened?"
"I thought maybe you could tell me. Henry tells me you've listed your house with a realtor. He wants to know if he should continue his maintenance of the place."
Julie had never once thought to contact Henry and she should have. "Tell him no. The house may already be sold. George Conway has put up earnest money." She could repay Max now for the expense of having Henry care for her house. "I'll reimburse you for the money you've paid Henry as soon as the sale is complete."
Max rubbed his hands along the legs of his jeans. "That's kind of you." His gaze drifted once again over Julie's shoulder and toward the window beyond. "It would have been kinder yet if you'd told me you were planning to sell in the first place."
She had intended to tell him, eventually. "I would have sooner or later."
"Would you? Somehow I doubt that. Why the secrecy, Julie? His eyes were shrouded with pain. Whatever his reasons for being so wounded his hurt was genuine.
"I didn't think it would matter to you one way or the other."
"Everything you do matters to me." Reaching across the table, Max let his fingers brush the back of her hand.
She drew back from the warmth of his touch. Why should he expect her to be forthright with him when he had conspired to deceive her at every turn? "I suppose I should have." A nagging little pain shivered down her spine and lodged in the small of her back. "Can't we drop the subject?"
Max stood and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Julie, don't do this. Don't pull away from me."
What did he want from her? Did he expect love and fidelity while he carried on behind her back with another woman? "I haven't gone anywhere. I won't until tomorrow morning."
"A part of you has. I can touch you but I can't reach you."
Was there anything worse than a smooth-talking, two-faced man? Pushing her chair back Julie began the slow process of standing. The pain that had begun in the small of her back was now waltzing down the sides of her thighs. "I'm going to my room. I have things to do."
Suddenly, Max was at her side, steadying her as she stood. "I'll help you."
She wanted to refuse his aid. The knowledge that she might not make it alone made her reconsider. "On second thought, I think I'll rest for a minute."
Max tightened his grip. "Are you all right?"
The fear that he might ask more questions about why she was selling her house made Julie want to put some distance between them. "If being eight-and-a-half months pregnant can be considered all right, I'm all right. I'd like to go to my room."
They made their way down the hall and toward the bedroom with Julie leaning heavily on Max, all the while hating herself for letting his questions about selling her house knock her for such a loop. Halfway down the hall she stopped as another dull pain traveled across her back and ran around to her stomach. "Let me rest for a moment."
Max tightened his grip. "Are you having pains?"
The pain was gone now but it was becoming a struggle to put one foot in front of the other. "I had a pain. I'm not in labor. It's not time."
"I hope our son knows that," Max remarked with a touch of cynicism. Once again they began to maneuver down the hall.
Julie let out a sigh of relief as they neared her bedroom. "I'll be all right as soon as I get off my feet." She forced herself to hold fast to that belief. The baby couldn't be coming now. It was too early.
"Maybe we should go to Burke's Crossing now." Max closed the door.
"Tomorrow is soon enough." Julie sat on the edge of the bed. All she wanted to do now was rest. Lying down, she stretched out. "That's better."
"Would you like to undress? Max moved her legs and helped her square her body.
"Just my shoes." Julie closed her eyes. She was so weary.
Max sat on the side of the bed, pulled her shoes from her swollen feet and covered her with a comforter. "Rest; I'll look in on you in an hour or so."
Before he was out the door, Julie was dozing. Her last thoughts were that she had unintentionally hurt Max. She would apologize and try to set things right tomorrow.
It seemed she had hardly closed her eyes. Max's deep voice impinged on her stirring senses. "Julie, wake up. It's dinner time. Are you up to coming to the dining room?"
Julie stretched and yawned. "It seems I just had lunch."
"You were at the table. You didn't eat. That's my fault. I chose a bad time t
o ask you about your house."
She should have told Max before she put her house up for sale. She knew that now. "And I doubt there would ever have been a good time." A shiver ran through Julie as goose bumps broke out on her arms. "It's cold in here. Can we turn up the heat?"
"It's as high as it will go." Max offered her a sweater. "I brought this for you to put on. The cold front the weatherman predicted for tomorrow got here about an hour ago."
Julie slipped her arms into the sweater. It was too small to reach across her stomach. Looking down she asked, "Was I ever small enough to wear this?"
"You were." Max offered her his hand. "And you will be again, very soon."
A small but persistent pain traveled from the small of Julie's back to the center of her stomach and lingered there. A flush of heat had driven her goose bumps away. "I may not need this sweater after all."
Outside a howling wind whistled through the oak trees and prowled like a hungry predator around the eaves of the house. "Keep it on," Max instructed. "It's like an icebox in the hall."
A strong gust of roaring wind blasted the windows with prodigious force, rattling the panes and rushing in around minute cracks. Julie pulled the sweater closer around her. "That storm sounds fierce."
The lights dimmed and then blinked back to brightness. Max took Julie's arm. "Let me help you."
As she scrambled to her feet a dull ache moved across the small of Julie's back and refused to go away. Standing aggravated it something fierce. She put both hands there and pressed down. False labor, she decided. But it was as exasperating as the real thing. Julie lay down on the bed, pushed a pillow behind her back and sighed with relief. "Will you bring me a tray? The chicken soup I didn't eat at noon will be fine."
When Max was gone Julie snuggled down under the covers and tried to find a comfortable position. The cramp in her stomach conspired with the ache in her back to make that impossible. To make matters worse a niggling little thread of fear had begun to weave its way through the fabric of her self-assurance. Was it possible that she could be in labor? Of course not; it was not time.
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