He glanced at his reflection in the dresser mirror. He looked tired and drawn. The look of a down and out actor, he mused, and his thoughts returned to Julia.
“Sam, you bloody hypocrite,” he said, aloud. “Why are you steering that girl down this difficult road? Especially when you’re about to take the easy way out?”
He rested against the headboard and tried to assure himself that returning to Deirdre was the right decision. But his conversation with Julia dominated his every thought. He told her to follow her heart and yet here he was, set to defy his own.
He’d never be happy with Deirdre for his wife. She shared none of his interests or passions. And that’s what he needed. Someone who understood the things he loved.
“Someone more like…” He closed his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. “Julia.”
Chapter Six
Deirdre Lamont replaced the gold-toned receiver in its cradle, and stared at it as if it were to blame for the curtain of insecurity that just fell on her perfect world. What was Sam doing in Germany and what could he possible need to get away from? She hoped to announce their engagement tomorrow and he left town?
She pulled her long legs to her chest, not moving from the comfort of her bed. She rested her forehead on her knees and wrapped her arms around them as if this self-hug might assure her that everything was fine, that Sam loved her and he would go through with the engagement.
But of course he would. He said he’d be there. Still, something in his voice alarmed her, and Deirdre did not like to be alarmed. Comfort was her zone. Alarm threw the zone off balance. Didn’t she pay people keep her life in balance? How dare he.
She looked to the fourth finger of her left hand for reassurance.
“Soon, this hand will be adorned with the most beautiful diamond ring, the proof that Sam Lyons loves me,” she said as if the walls should applaud. Deirdre needed Sam, and he needed her too. Sam had to go through with the engagement. He simply had to. She worked too hard and too long to win him. He could not back out. For thirteen years she loved Sam Lyons, and now, at age twenty-six, the perfect age for her to marry, he finally vowed to be hers. The prize was won.
But tonight, the prize seemed hesitant.
Deirdre stretched like a waking cat and attempted to bristle off her worry with a laugh. She shouldn’t let that phone call upset her. She always won in the end. All her life, whatever Deirdre Lamont wanted, Deirdre received. Daddy and Mother saw to that. Give the darling child what she wants and she won’t bother anyone.
A gentle knock on her bedroom door caused her to startle and position herself in a more lady-like manner. She placed perfectly polished toes on the plush carpet and sat upright, her arms resting in her lap, her hands folded on the silky, light blue nightgown she wore. “Come in.”
“Hello darling.” Penelope “Penny” Lamont entered with the relaxed elegance of a beautiful woman who married well. Deirdre watched as her mother seemed to glide towards the canopied bed, her white, silk peignoir flowing softly behind her. Deirdre knew she was a mirror image of her mother, possessing the same shimmering silk-spun blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and porcelain skin. But the comparison stopped there. Where Penny Lamont seemed happy as London’s most beloved societal matron, Deirdre’s ambitions aimed higher. Not only would she desire society's respect and admiration, but also the world’s. And the ticket to her dream was Sam Lyons, who would one day be a brilliant, respected actor of stage and screen. She would be by his side, of course, his renowned wife, admired by all for her stunning looks, handsome husband, and philanthropic contributions to the world. Whereas Lady Diana Spencer might be the rising star of today, Deirdre Lamont was just beginning to sparkle.
Penny sat, ever so delicately, on the edge of the bed so as not to wrinkle the bed linens. She offered her daughter a reserved smile. “I put the finishing touches on the engagement announcement for the society pages, and given the word, they’re off to the printer.”
“Lovely, Mother, thank you.” Mention of the engagement forced Deirdre to think of Sam’s call. She faked a smile, hoping her mother would not discern all was not well in her world.
“You did get in touch with Sam and confirm he’ll be at the party?”
“Yes. Just before you walked in.”
“Wonderful!” Penny clasped her hands together. “How exciting it will be for me to announce your engagement tomorrow evening. I just wish your dear father could have lived to see this. He would be so thrilled to know you married Sam.”
Deirdre bit her lip. Her father would have been more thrilled if she was Sam. After all, she was supposed to have been born the boy, the Golden Son to inherit the family business on the retirement or death of her father. But, from the moment the error of her gender was announced, her father cast her aside in his financial plans, waiting and hoping for the second child, the ever-hoped for son who never arrived. In fact, no other children followed and Deirdre remained the Wrongful Heir.
“You know, Deirdre,” Penny said, as if Deirdre might ever forget how her father doted on Sam. “Sam was to inherit the company on your father’s and his father’s retirement. So, it’s only fair that Sam receive his money. I felt so sorry when his father disowned him, but what could I do?”
Deirdre smiled, but inside, her blood boiled. Did her happiness count for nothing? Why did her mother seem happier for Sam than herself? Couldn’t she see how hard she had worked to win the beloved Sam? Never mind the fact, that she was now the rightful heir to the liquidation of the business and that she brought Sam back into the fold. Without her, the prodigal son wouldn’t be returning to the inheritance nest. But never mind. She would ignore the slights as she had forever.
She should hate Sam, living in his shadow all her life. He became the son to her father that she was supposed to be. And yet, she loved Sam as much as her father did. She could never be jealous of Sam, even though he stole her father’s affections, and inherited the business by simply owning the sacred Y chromosome.
As her mother prattled on about party details, Deirdre tuned her out, remembering instead how met Sam. She was a silly teenager, her sights set on marrying into the Royal Family. But when her father introduced her to his business partner, Charles, and his tall, handsome son, Sam, she fell smitten. But, Sam simply regarded her as the pesky young family friend he was forced to be kind to. Sam finally took notice of her when, at sixteen, her beauty came into it’s own. Everyone noticed her then. Her admirers and suitors were plenty; she had the pick of the wealthiest men in the world. But she only wanted Sam.
“Deirdre?” Her mother’s voice startled her from her musings.
“I’m sorry.” She smiled as if she had not a care in the world. Practice makes perfect. “You were saying, Mother?”
“I’m thinking you’re looking a bit drawn tonight, dear.” Penny rose from the bed. “Perhaps you should turn in early. You don’t want to look puffy-eyed tomorrow. Once the media gets wind of this match, you’ll be the media’s darling, second only to Diana of course.”
“Of course.” She rose and placed a small peck on her mother’s cheek.
Penny started to leave, but turned back. “You don’t have to worry, really, darling.”
Deirdre’s eyes opened wide. Had her mother sensed that all was not right with Sam?
Penny patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll photograph well. The cameras just love you.” She turned with a sweep of her long gown and left the room.
“Of course they do,” Deirdre said to herself, and stared at the phone. “But does Sam?”
Chapter Seven
The alarm clock blare roused Julia from her dream-like state, and begrudgingly she rose, yawned and stretched. She looked over to the other bed where Kim lay motionless.
“Kim.”
“Kim!” Still no answer. Julia rose and padded over to the lifeless form and shook it. “Wake up! We’ve got to get to breakfast.”
A muffled noise emitted from under the fluffy white duvet as Kim attempted to roll
over. “I feel sick.”
Julia recoiled from the stench of vomit. “Did you get sick last night?
“Uh-huh,” Kim rolled back to face the wall. “Right into Mrs. O’Brien’s slippers.”
“Kim, what happened? Did you guys get caught coming back home?”
“Could you talk softer? My head is killing me.”
Julia lowered her voice. “You’ve got to wake up and tell me what happened. Am I in trouble too?”
Kim attempted to sit, but searing rays of morning sunlight batted her back down. “No, O’Brien doesn’t know you were there. Could you get me some water?”
“Okay, wait a minute and don’t you dare fall back to sleep.” Julia threw on her robe, and left the room. She followed a short, darkened hallway to the restroom they shared with the other guests. She filled a paper cup with water and returned to Kim.
Kim sat halfway up. “Thanks.”
“Now tell me what happened,” Julia said. “We’ve got to be on the bus by seven-thirty, so tell me as much as you can and hurry.”
“Well,” Kim said, rubbing her temple. “I think we left the bar a half hour after you, and I wasn’t feeling so good, and Bob and Chris were being loud and obnoxious. They wanted to stay even longer, but that bartender guy wouldn’t serve them anymore. By the time we got back to the hotel, they were singing, or rather, attempting to sing, and I tried to tell them to quiet down but they wouldn’t. We got to the door, and by that time, Mrs. O’Brien must have woke up, ‘cause she was at the door and she knew we were drunk.”
“Oh man. What did she say?”
“She started to reprimand us, saying that she’d have to let Mr. Mueller know what happened, but she didn’t get to finish because I started to feel really sick, and that’s when I lost it and tossed it.”
Julia didn’t know whether to laugh or be mortified.
“Bob and Chris started to laugh and I started to cry. It was horrible. O’Brien yelled at the boys to go to their rooms and she helped me into bed and that’s all I remember.”
“So you guys didn’t tell her I had been with you?”
“No, we didn’t say anything about you.”
Relief flooded Julia, but a wall of guilt hit her as well. She was equally at fault for breaking the rules. “Oh, Kim. I’m so sorry. Did Mrs. O’Brien say what might happen now?”
Kim turned and faced the wall, moaning. “I don’t remember and I don’t want to think about it.”
Julia glanced at the clock. “Kim, you’ve got to get up. I know you feel sick, but if they see you hung over, it will probably make matters worse.”
“Do you have aspirin?” Kim attempted to rise. “I think if I can get rid of this forty cannon salute booming in my head, I might be able to function.”
“Sure.” Julia rose. “I’ll get it.”
A half hour later, Kim was dressed, but sat subdued on her bed. “Do I still look as hellish as I feel?”
Julia, dressed and hungry for breakfast, tried to soothe her friend. “You look tired, but not as green.”
“Thanks.” Kim smiled for the first time that morning. “I’ve been so worried about myself, I forgot to ask if you made it home okay. I mean, I guess you did, ‘cause you’re here, but I hope that guy was nice. I’m really sorry I didn’t leave with you. Believe me, I’m sorry for lots of reasons.”
“That’s okay.” Julia returned the smile, as she remembered her walk with Sam. “He was very nice. He’s an actor. He’s up for a part in a mini-series.”
“Really? What’s his name, again?”
“Sam Lyons.”
“Lyons. Sam Lyons. It sounds a bit familiar but, hell, I couldn’t think straight now if my life depended on it. And my stomach really hurts. How in the world am I going to sing?”
A loud rap on the door startled both girls.
Julia opened the door, finding herself face to face with Mrs. O’Brien, who walked right in
“Good morning, Julia.”
“Hi.” Julia closed the door and leaned against it.
“How are you feeling?” Mrs. O’Brien walked towards Kim. With her face taut, grayish-brown hair pulled into a bun, out-of-date dark gray dress and heavy-heeled black shoes, she resembled a prison matron rather than a trip chaperone.
“I’m doing okay,” Kim lied.
Mrs. O’Brien sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “Kim. I’ve known both you and Julia since you were children. I babysat you for years while your mother worked. You and Julia practically grew up playing in my house with my Jeannie-”
As Mrs. O’Brien lectured, Julia’s own head began to pound. She could only imagine the torture sick Kim suffered as she sat and listened to Mrs. O’Brien drone on.
“Look,” Kim interrupted. “I just want to say again that I’m really, really, sorry, and it won’t happen again.”
“It is my duty, as a chaperone, to report to Mr. Mueller what occurred. And so I did.” She shook her head back and forth. “I can’t imagine my sweet Jeannie even thinking of doing something like this.”
“What did Mr. Mueller say?” Kim looked over at Julia as she spoke, worry etched into her pallid complexion.
“He’s speaking to Bob and Chris now, but asked me to relay your punishment.” Mrs. O’Brien stood tall as if reading a verdict. “You, Bob and Chris will be sent home. They’ll refund most of your money, of course.”
Silence fell. Kim’s face flushed and her eyes filled with tears.
“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Julia heard the words fly out of her mouth before she could censor them. “We’ve only been here a day.”
Mrs. O’Brien spared no sympathy, and ignored Julia. “Mr. Mueller will call your parents after breakfast, Kim. You’ll sing with the choir today and then return to Frankfurt tomorrow morning to catch a flight home.”
A sob escaped from Kim, and Julia ran to comfort her. Julia felt torn. Kim was being sent home, kicked off the tour and Julia knew that she, too, should be going home. She should confess that she had been out as well. But as much as she wanted to do the right thing, the image of her father’s disappointed face flashed before her. She couldn’t admit her guilt. She couldn’t hurt him. Julia prayed for Mrs. O’Brien to leave so she could think straight.
Prayers seemed futile, however, as Mrs. O’Brien lectured on. “What were you thinking, Kim? Getting drunk with boys? You represent our church!”
Kim sobbed harder as Julia shot imaginary darts into Mrs. O’Brien’s heart.
“I’m just so glad I raised my Jeannie-”
“Get out!” Kim shouted. “Get out. I mean it! I’m so sick of hearing about how perfect Jeannie is. I’m sorry I wanted to go have a little fun. I’m sorry I got caught and have to go home. Okay? Now get out!”
“You are a rude young woman.” Mrs. O’Brien straightened non-existent wrinkles from her skirt and headed towards the door. “I was actually feeling a bit sorry for you, but now I think Mr. Mueller made the right decision.”
“And I think I’m going to be sick again.” Kim suddenly rose and made a beeline towards Mrs. O’Brien.
Julia stifled a laugh as Mrs. O’Brien all but ran out the door. Kim followed, but slammed the door shut after Mrs. O’Brien left. She turned to face Julia, and leaned against the doorframe. She sunk to the floor and held her head in her hands.
“Oh Jules, I can’t believe I’m going home.”
Julia sat motionless on the bed. “I should be going too.”
Kim raised her head. “Oh no, Jules. You have to stay. No one knows you were with us. I’m sure Bob and Chris won’t tell. Why go home if you don’t have to? You didn’t even want to go out with us in the first place. I dragged you into the whole mess.”
“I just feel so guilty, and bad for you.”
“It’s not your fault, it really isn’t. I should have returned with you early last night like I promised. And if I hadn’t been drunk, the punishment might not have been so bad.”
“What do you think your mom will say?” Julia walked
over and helped Kim back to her feet.
“Heck if I know.” She wiped a few last tears from her cheeks. “Hell, she’ll probably be glad I threw up in O’Brien’s slippers. She never liked the woman much either, but it was cheap childcare.”
Julia handed Kim a tissue. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Kim blew her nose, and attempted a smile. “I know, Jules, I know. But hey, we still have today. Let’s make the most of this last day together, okay?”
“Let’s go to breakfast,” Julia said, although still not appeased of her own guilt. “Can you eat anything?”
Kim grabbed her purse and opened the door. “Well, if not, I’m sure I know a good pair of shoes to deposit it in. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
Sam shifted his weight on the small, wooden folding chair, one of many placed outside and around Rothenburg’s Town Hall Square. He arrived late for the concert, but found an empty seat in the back row and spotted Julia amongst the group of choir members. He felt his spirit lift as he watched her.
She loved performing, and joy became her. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed it in the dim bar or in the shallow streetlight last evening, but now Sam noted how understated, yet present, her beauty was. He sat captured as the sun played off the highlights in her long blonde hair and accentuated softness of her radiant skin. No sadness or grief marred her sweet countenance today. Sam wished she might always feel this way.
As if feeling the weight of his stare, Julia glanced his way. He offered a small wave and she grinned as she continued singing. Her smile confirmed that he made the right choice to stay in Germany. Fate dealt him the Julia card for a reason. She needed guidance to stick up to her father and go into theater. Sam would encourage her to do so. Right now that seemed far more important than a party. And if that delayed his return to England, it couldn’t be helped. He could propose to Deirdre anytime.
Sam knew the passion Julia felt on stage. To experience the high of performing and then live without it would be like, well, losing a lover. It was imperative he encourage Julia to follow her dream. She needed him to stay. He’d talk with her after the concert and then head back to London.
A Lonely Sky Page 4