Chapter 13
Thirty minutes later, Julia was on her way, and at no point in those thirty minutes did she waver, though the pressure was fierce. Her father kept saying that he hadn’t meant to cause a stir; Molly kept saying that Julia really could share her room; Zoe kept saying—albeit for Julia’s ears alone—that she wanted Julia, not George, in her house.
All the hovering made Julia more determined than ever to find her own place. If having survived the accident meant that she had been chosen to restructure her life, she couldn’t think of a better step than declaring her independence. She packed up her new clothes, plus a bagful of Zoe’s things. She packed up her camera equipment and printer. She was actually driving away when she stopped, backed up to the barn, and ran in for the pocketbook that the divers had recovered. The leather had dried to a motley tan and was nowhere near as soft as it had been, but there were things inside that she wanted.
More to the point, there were things inside that she didn’t want others to see. Tossing the bag into the SUV, she closed the hatch, slid in behind the wheel, and left the farmhouse behind.
And still she didn’t waver. She actually felt free—and, yes, that brought twinges of guilt. She loved Zoe. She loved her father. Lord knew, she loved Molly. Loving herself—respecting her own needs— was something important and new.
Heading first for the harbor, she parked at the end of the pier, walked down the dock, saw that Noah wasn’t on his boat, and returned to her car. A short while later, she drove up Main Street, turned left on Spruce, and cruised slowly past one fisherman’s cottage after another until she spotted his blue truck. Pulling in behind it, she was barely out of the car when Lucas loped up and escorted her down the short walk. Passing bushes still redolent with lilacs, though the blooms were fading, she gave a hearty knock on the weathered frame.
Noah opened the door—and for the first time, remembering how Molly had gone on about heads together, hands held, and Noah not having been with anyone for a while, Julia did waver. He seemed taller than before, perhaps a fact of the darkness behind him. He wore jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. She saw broad shoulders and firm biceps.
High on one of those biceps was a ropy tattoo. Glimpsing it, she felt a deep burning inside, something she hadn’t felt in a while—not for Monte, nor for anyone else. She thought of herself as attractive, not sexy—probably because Monte thought of her as attractive, not sexy. If he found her sexy, the reasoning went, he wouldn’t have strayed.
Noah smiled through the screen and glanced at Lucas. “What’d I say? He knows beauty. How’re you doin’?”
“Not bad,” she said. “Actually, not great. I have a huge favor to ask. I know this is a major imposition on my part. It’s truly taking advantage of the fact that you and I just happened to be on the Amelia Celeste at the same time, and after the kindness you showed me earlier, I feel guilty asking for anything, but it’s like, when the problem arose, I could only think of one answer. Of course, I couldn’t tell Zoe and Molly and my dad what it was—”
“Your dad’s here?”
She nodded. “Showed up a little while ago, right out of the blue, and suddenly there’s all this family at Zoe’s, and I really want none of it. I packed up my things and drove away—just like that. I know it’s something I need to do, but I’m not used to acting on impulse, so now I’m in a bind, which is why I’m here on your doorstep. Please feel free to say no. This is the first place I’ve stopped, and if you’re uncomfortable with this, I’m sure there are other options—”
Shhhh, said the finger he put against his lips.
She stopped talking.
“Are you looking for a place to stay?” he asked.
Apologetically, she nodded.
“Want my hill house?”
She took a quick breath. “Desperately.”
“It’s yours.”
She exhaled in relief. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I won’t be going there, not with the boy coming tomorrow.”
“I know it’s where you keep your computer. Tell me when you want to use it, and I’ll take off for however long. It’s just such a perfect location, so quiet and out of the way. I need to think. I’ll be able to do it there. I have a cell phone, so I won’t rack up a bill on your line. And I’m neat. No mess. I’ll take good care of the place.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Truly?” she asked.
He nodded and smiled. “There’s no one I’d rather have in my bed.”
Julia laughed in delight. Yes, she heard Molly warning her about the way it looked and what people were saying, but she figured Noah knew of the talk. If he wasn’t bothered, she wasn’t either.
“Thanks,” she said, grinning still. She started to turn, paused, looked at Lucas and then at Noah again. “Um, maybe you can remind me how to get there?”
Noah did one better. He led the way in the truck. He stopped en route at the island store for food basics—which, against Julia’s protests, he insisted on paying for but, as he saw it, she was doing him a favor. At a time when he felt the loss of his father, the challenge of his son, and an acute need to do something to justify his having been spared death himself, she was there. Helping her felt right.
Besides, he liked her. She was different from the other women he knew. She had a mind of her own and could argue with him quite effectively, but she didn’t pretend to have all the answers. That was refreshing, after Sandi.
She was also married, which made her safe. He didn’t have to worry about impressing her, didn’t have to worry about whether she liked the island, whether she would want to stay, whether she could possibly survive without culture and comfort. He didn’t have to apologize for being early to bed and early to rise. He didn’t have to dress up.
Since she was married, nothing could happen. Sure, people talked. But the ones he cared about knew how he felt about carrying on with married women. He didn’t do it.
Lucas, of course, was totally smitten, but Lucas was a dog. What did he know?
Julia Bechtel was a friend. That made it okay for Noah to loan her the hill house and outfit it with food. He felt good doing it, actually felt terrific doing it. From the minute he opened the door and brought in the first of her things, the place felt warmer. The fact that she seemed to love the house made him feel even better.
She hadn’t brought much with her. They emptied her car in no time, had the food put away, her clothes hung, her printer hooked up to his computer so that she could print and email pictures to her heart’s delight. Overriding her protests, he even installed her photo-editing software, so that she could play and experiment. Then, since it was only four, he led her through the woods surrounding the house, over barely discernible trails and along crumbling stone walls, to spots that he knew—the ruins of an old cellar, an assembly of thick birches with peeling white bark, a boulder with a view. When they returned, it was nearly six, so he uncorked a Chardonnay and sliced French bread, while she washed red grapes and warmed a wedge of Brie. They took it all out to the bedroom deck, sat on lounge chairs, and enjoyed the serenity.
Noah didn’t know whether it was the wine, the most pleasant social experience he’d had in years, or simply the fact that with Ian due in sixteen hours, he couldn’t procrastinate any longer, but when he finally returned to his parents’ house, he was motivated. No matter that dusk approached. For the first time since he had left for the mainland with his father that fateful Tuesday, he raised the shades, opened the windows, and aired out the house. He stripped both his bed and Hutch’s, and washed the sheets. He made room in his closet for Ian’s things, put his own things in Hutch’s room, put Hutch’s things in boxes so quickly that he couldn’t dwell on the loss. Deeming half of the food in the refrigerator to be either moldy or spoiled, he tossed it out, wiped down the shelves in preparation for fresh food the next morning. He scrubbed the bathroom. He washed the towels, then his own clothes. He replaced a bulb that had blown out in one of the li
ving room lamps. He cleaned ashes from the woodstove.
By the time he was done, it was nearly midnight, and he was tired. But he had a sense of accomplishment. The house was clean and smelled fresh. It wouldn’t embarrass him in front of Ian. Lying on newly washed sheets in his parents’ bed—now his own—with the familiar tang of salt air filtering in through the screen and skimming his body, he felt more human than he had in days.
He thought of his parents then, and the years they had slept in this room, in this bed. They had been happy together. He remembered shared glances and brief touches, nothing obvious, but enough to suggest an intimate meeting of minds. He truly did find solace thinking of them together again.
On that reassuring note, he fell into a sound sleep. He didn’t even wake at the usual predawn hour that lobstering demanded, but slept through until eight when, startled, he jumped out of bed into a rush of last-minute chores, raced to the store and back, filled the fridge and the cupboard, mowed the lawn, gave Lucas a bath.
With everything done, he thought of Julia at his hill house, totally accepting—even admiring—of him. Buoyed, he whistled for Lucas, climbed into the truck, and set off to meet Ian in Portland.
Julia slept late, in part because that was what vacations were for, but more likely because she had been so late going to bed the night before. One thing had followed the next—a short call to Zoe telling her where she was staying, a similar message left for Monte, a certain amount of unpacking, lots of trips up and down the stairs, poking around, familiarizing herself with what was where and how to use it all, and then going out on the deck to see the play of moon and stars between a shifting veil of clouds. By the time she had washed up, set her wedding band on the bathroom counter, and pulled back that simple white bedspread, she was flush with adrenaline as she relived the events of the day, swinging from disbelief to pride, to excitement, to fear.
Moreover, slipping between Noah’s sheets, she was acutely aware of… slipping between Noah’s sheets. That thought was a lovely distraction from the rest, though no more calming.
Eventually, it struck her as she lay in that bed that she had never, ever lived alone. She had gone straight from her family home to a dormitory with two roommates, and from there to life with Monte. Yes, he took business trips, but she didn’t call being left behind living alone. This was living alone. For as long as she stayed, there would be no one else using the bed, no one else using the bathroom, no one else drinking coffee from the first pot of the day.
For now, that felt right. It felt like the kind of new experience she was meant to have after the accident. For the long run? She didn’t know. And that raised the dilemma of what to do with her future, which was truly what kept her awake until three in the morning.
She fell asleep with no solution in sight, and bolted up once to the vision of a purple bow bursting out of fog. Short of breath and shaking, she was a minute realizing where she was and quite a few more before she calmed. But sleep did return.
When she awoke next, it was after nine and the bedroom was bright. Beyond the windows, a filmy haze made something mystical of the blues and greens that would have otherwise delineated sky, sea, and woods. Propped on all those pillows that she had admired the Thursday before, she let herself float in the haze awhile—so mesmerized that she didn’t hear a car approach at the front of the house. Nor, apparently, did she hear the first sound of the doorbell. It was only when the ring came in a series of short, urgent trills that she realized someone had come.
Assuming it was Noah, she slipped on a robe and ran up the stairs. She was startled to open the door and find a visibly guarded Molly— which should have brought back the angst of the previous day, but didn’t. Feeling instant pleasure, Julia broke into a smile.
“Molly!” she said, catching the girl’s hand. “You have to see this.” Drawing her into the house, she pulled her down the stairs and onto the deck. “Isn’t this the best view?”
Molly looked at it awhile before turning to Julia. “It’s really nice,” she said quietly. “So’s the house. Zoe said it’s Noah’s.”
“Yes.” Julia put both hands on Molly’s shoulders. “Okay. You just showed up here unannounced. Was he here?”
“No.”
“Do you see any evidence that he was here?”
“You’re not wearing your wedding band.”
“I never wear it at night. You know that. Try again. Any evidence he was here?”
“I haven’t looked.”
“Trust me,” Julia said gently but firmly. “He wasn’t. He doesn’t live here, which is the only reason I can. It’s the perfect place for me. Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Molly answered, losing all semblance of composure. She seemed completely rattled. “Everything’s always been the same, and suddenly it isn’t. You’re here and Dad’s there, and now Grampa’s here and Gram is there. Of all the people in my life, I thought my family was the most together. What’s wrong with Daddy? Doesn’t he know you’re the best woman he could ever have?”
Julia was touched. Inside her, a raw little spot scabbed over. Wrapping her arms around Molly, she held her—until Molly drew back, wanting an answer. “Doesn’t he? What is he looking for?”
“Adulation? Adventure? Novelty? Risk? I don’t know, Molly. All I know is that I’m really angry at him right now.” It had been one thing when Julia was the only one hurt by his affairs. But Molly had been hurt now, too. That changed things.
“I called him this morning,” Molly said. “It’s the first time we’ve talked since that night, but I wanted him to know how upset you are. He says there’s nothing going on with that woman.”
Molly might believe that, but Julia couldn’t.
“He says she was an old friend whose husband had locked her out of the house. She may be. I didn’t see them doing anything. I told him you were staying alone here, so if he wanted to come, you’d have privacy.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did, and he said he might.”
Julia was appalled. “But I don’t want him here. This is my time, my place, and it’s my business. You had no right suggesting he come.”
“He’s my father—”
“You’re grown, Molly. You may spend a few more vacations at home, but then you’re out in your own place with your own friends. I’m the one who’ll be with your father. I’m the one who has to decide what I want.”
“He swore nothing happened,” Molly insisted.
“This time?” Julia asked. “Or the one before that, or the one before that?”
“Can’t you forgive him?”
“The issue isn’t so much forgiveness as trust. But there’s so much more going on here, Molly. This isn’t only about my marriage. What I said last night, about filling everyone else’s needs? I meant that. And I’m not blaming your father or your grandparents or you. I could have refused. But you all needed me, and I wanted to be needed. There’s a pleasure in that, too.”
“But not anymore. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying that I’ve been defining myself in terms of other people— Monte’s wife, Molly’s mother, Janet’s daughter. I don’t have an identity of my own.”
“Do you need one?”
“I think so.”
“Suddenly? Now? Because of the accident?”
Julia settled against the rail, turning her back on the view. “Most of the people who died were younger than me. They had so much ahead of them. So here I am, spared. For what? Why? There has to be a purpose, something that goes beyond what I’ve done so far in my life. And it’s not an activist thing—like I’m supposed to try to change the world. It has to do with me. With making me a whole person.”
“I think you’re a whole person,” Molly said.
“Well, I don’t. So maybe that’s what’s missing in my life. Maybe I don’t value myself enough.” The words were familiar. It took her a minute to realize that she had heard them in therapy years before.
At the time, she hadn’t paid them much heed. Change was painful. The devil she knew was better than the one she did not.
And now?
“Come back to Zoe’s?” Molly asked pleadingly.
Julia looked around. “This is a good place for me right now. You can visit whenever you want.”
“Can I stay here?”
Hel-lo, Julia nearly cried. After all her talk about needing space?
Slipping an elbow through her daughter’s, she guided her up the stairs. “I want you at Zoe’s.”
“I want you there, too,” Molly said, and launched in with, “What is going on between Grandpa and Gram? And what’s with Grandpa and Zoe? They had zero to say to each other. I mean, really impolite. I wanted to make them blueberry-stuffed French toast, but Zoe insisted on cooking, and she wouldn’t even sit and eat with us, just kept busy at the stove. Grandpa went back and forth between me and the Wall Street Journal. I think I’ll call Gram.”
“Margaret Marie, do not do that. Let your grandparents work out their own problems. Do you hear?”
It was good advice, if only Julia could have followed it. Not your business, Julia told herself. Can’t carry everyone else’s baggage when you’re trying to carry your own, she argued.
But her mother was her mother, a woman whose husband of forty-odd years had not only walked out on her, but had taken refuge in the home of the other woman, the one with whom he’d once had an affair. Julia would have had to be made of stone not to feel for her.
Moreover, she was haunted by what Zoe had said about mother and daughter being alike. Julia didn’t want to think of herself as opting out when the going got rough.
She called Janet at work. To her credit, Janet came on right away, but that was the extent of her concession.
“Yes, Julia,” she said in a businesslike tone.
Julia felt the familiar stomach-jumping. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You know Dad’s here with me.”
“Well, if that’s where he’s gone, that’s where he’s gone.”
The Summer I Dared: A Novel Page 22