Julia tensed. “No. He’s very sick.”
“Oh?”
“He’s dying.”
“Dying?”
“It wasn’t a heart attack. It’s lung cancer.”
John whistled low. “Man. I’m sorry.”
Julia tried not to let on that tears streamed down her cheeks. “I need to ask you a huge favor.”
“Okay.” He turned hesitant. “Just don’t cry, Jules. You know how that kills me.”
His kindness only made her request harder. “I know, but this is difficult. Sam doesn’t want to die in England. He wants to come back to the States. With me.”
Silence.
“John?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right? What does that mean?”
“He’s very sick, John. He’s only been given six months.”
“And?”
Julia gripped the receiver as if she could draw strength from it. “I’ve never asked anything of you.”
Silence again.
“He’s dying.” Julia fought for the right words. “He wants to spend his remaining time near me.”
“Did you tell him about Elizabeth?” Anger edged his words.
“Yes, he knows” she said, tugging at a loose thread attached to the duvet.
“And now, because he’s dying, he suddenly wants to come here and destroy my life and my family?”
“No, it’s not like that. He’s sick!”
“He’s a bastard, dying or not!”
“John, please!” Julia clenched and unclenched the comforter. “He’ll be in Willowbrook, not our house. He’s not well enough to be up and about. I’ll visit him there.”
“So you have this all worked out already? Your dying ex-lover is coming to town and I have no say in the matter?”
Julia tried to keep calm. “You have every right to be mad.”
“Thank you for permission!”
Julia paused. John had never been this angry with her, but she couldn’t blame him.
“John, please listen to me. He’s not my lover. You know that.” But you don’t know about New York, she thought, recalling how she denied Sam’s advances that evening and wished she hadn’t. “We’re not lovers.”
“In your hearts, you are.”
Julia nearly dropped the phone. All these years she tried to keep her feelings about Sam buried. How had John known her true longings when she denied them to herself?
“I love you, John.”
“You’ve never loved me like you loved him.”
Julia couldn’t refute his words. She let him have his say.
“In the back of my mind, I’ve always known, Jules. But I swept the suspicion under the rug ‘cause Sam seemed out of your life. But he was always on your mind, and now you want to bring him here and rub my face in it?”
“I don’t want it to feel like that for you.”
“Then leave him in England.”
“I can’t.” She couldn’t say much more without completely breaking down. All her life, she strived not to hurt anyone and now she had to choose between hurting John, who deserved only her love, or alienating Sam and her own feelings.
John didn’t wait for an answer. “How could you do this to me?”
“I’m sorry.” She whispered into the phone, as she swiped at tears, realizing she hadn’t cried this much in years.
“You’re putting me in a God-awful position, Jules. My job is to protect you and my family. I should have stopped you from going to London. Why would I let the guy who hurt you back in your life?”
“I let him back in.” Julia would not allow John to take any blame. “Being here, I’ve had a chance to sort things out and get some answers. Sam never meant to hurt me the summer we met. He came back for me but found out I married. He married Deirdre Lamont only to get money to pay off debts.”
“What a fine and upstanding guy.” John’s sarcasm oozed through the receiver. “And to think, I married you because I love you.”
“I’m just saying that he’s not awful.”
“He’s an ass. The bottom line is he wants my wife.”
Julia sighed. “That’s not going to happen, honestly.”
“How’s this for brutal honesty? I’m sorry he’s sick but I can’t just accept all this without selfishly wishing that he might not actually make it six months.”
Julia cringed. John never spoke an unkind word about anybody, ever. But his hurt ran deep, and she was the cause. John had turned into someone she didn’t recognize. Had she driven him to this?
“I deserved that, I suppose.” She closed her eyes wishing for something to say to make this horrible situation better.
“The thing about this,” John continued, a hint of resignation lacing his anger. “Is that I know you’re going to do this no matter what I say, and this is simply your way of telling me.”
“I know-”
“And what pisses me off, Jules, what cuts me to the quick, is that as much as I hate this, as much as I detest Sam Lyons…. I still love you. Damn it.”
Julia cried into the phone. “I know. She fought to catch her breath. “Thank you. Thank you.”
A long minute passed in silence. Finally, John sighed. “When will you be coming home?”
Julia wiped her tears. “As soon as we can.”
“See you then.” The phone went dead.
Julia replaced the receiver and laid her head on the pillow. Exhausted, she cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Fifty-Five
“Looks like a nicer day today.” Deirdre opened the vertical blinds in Sam’s hospital room, folded her arms across her chest and stared out at the brilliant London morning. “The rain finally stopped.”
Sam sat up in bed, propped by several pillows. He studied her as she looked out the window. She appeared refreshed today, much better than when she and Spencer left last night. The two of them had remained by Sam’s side before, during and after his diagnosis. Sam heartened to hear they finally went home for rest when Julia arrived.
But this morning seemed brighter, not only in forecast, but in his attitude. Sam buoyed knowing he’d soon be with Julia, and this thought alone kept him from thinking about his troubles.
Deirdre turned from the window and offered a smile almost as cheery as her bright chartreuse skirt and jacket. But the sadness in her eyes spoke louder than her attempts at outward cheer.
“Has Julia left?” She walked to his bedside table and arranged the vase of wildflowers she brought.
“She’s at a hotel.”
“The doctor said you’re now strong enough to leave anytime.” She turned from the flowers. “I’ve been looking into a visiting nurse service. Are you sure you won’t try the chemotherapy again, darling?”
Sam chuckled. “You make it sound as if I’m simply refusing the caviar plate.”
Deirdre’s face fell, all pretense of cheer faded. “Look. Would you rather I sit here and cry? I don’t want you to surrender to this so easily. Why won’t you try something?”
“Treatment wouldn’t be a cure. It’ll only prolong the inevitable and leave me ill and weak. I’d rather live a happy six months than a hellish twelve.”
Deirdre held his hand. “I see.” She sighed. “Then I shall arrange for your things to be brought to my home from McTeel Manor. Barnabas can’t possibly care for you as old as he is. And Spencer won’t mind. He’d do anything for you. And we’ll get the best nursing care available… when the time comes. Whatever you want.”
Sam withdrew his hand and motioned to a nearby chair. “Bring that chair near and sit by me. I have something to say.”
Deirdre glanced at the chair, but sat on the edge of the bed instead. “Please, Sam. I really can’t bear any more bad news. This news that you’re now terribly ill is devastating enough.”
“Deirdre, you’re going to have to admit that I’m more than ‘terribly ill’. Terribly ill hints at the chance for recovery. I have none.”
Deirdre spoke as if he were a child. �
��Not with that attitude.”
Sam took a laborious deep breath. “Deirdre, I don’t plan to die in England.”
Deirdre’s eyes flew open. “Just where do you plan to go?”
“I’m going to the States.”
She didn’t speak.
“Say something.” Sam reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“I never should have let Julia see you. I knew she was important to you at one time, and you’re ill, so I thought ‘What could it hurt? I thought it would please you to see her again. I thought I was being compassionate. Ha! Had I known she came here to take you away-” Deirdre’s eyes flashed.
Sam straightened to a more comfortable position. “But you have Spencer. What on earth do you need a sickly man like me hanging about?”
“You’re more to me than some sickly man and you know it.” She looked away. “And technically, you’re still my husband.”
“You must understand how I feel about Julia.”
“And why can’t you understand how I feel?” Deirdre said. “If you leave then I’ve truly lost you.” Tears filled her eyes. “Who am I without you, Sam?”
Sam felt a lump rise in his throat. “Why, you’re Deirdre Lamont, the most beautiful and famous socialite the world has ever known. You’re a step below royalty.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she sighed. “My entire life has been about you, Sam. Wanting you. Scheming to win you. Winning and losing you. Loving you. I tried so hard, and through it all, you still loved Julia.”
“You love Spencer.”
“Yes, I love Spencer. And he loves me.”
“Then you know how I feel about Julia.” Sam stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry if that hurts, but you can’t have it all.”
She continued, waving away his words. “You want to go to Julia.” She laughed through her tears. “Julia, that thorn, forever in my side.”
Sam remained calm. Time loomed short and he possessed no desire to waste any of it in anger. “Deirdre, this wasn’t Julia’s idea, it was mine.”
Deirdre reached for a tissue. “Don’t defend her. I want to be the good person here and I want you to be happy, but I can’t help feel betrayed that you’ll leave Spencer and me. We’re your friends. We stood by you all this time. You belong here.”
Sam allowed himself a half-smile. Deirdre always excelled at playing the guilt card. “Yes, you’ve been very helpful when I needed it.” Sam recalled the many times she sat by his side when chemotherapy left him drained and weak. Spencer pitched in when Deirdre couldn’t. Yet despite their loyalty, Sam knew he could not miss this one last chance to be with Julia.
“I’m sorry, Deirdre, I am.” He thought back on the past five years. “We should have divorced after your mother died, as we planned. Why did we spend all this time worrying about convention? We wasted so much time unhappy simply because we worried what the damn press would write?”
Deirdre smiled. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Sam. Despite my feelings for Spencer, I still like thinking of you as mine. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Completely wrong choice of words there, love.”
Deirdre looked horrified. “Oh goodness Sam, I didn’t mean-”
They both stared at each other and then laughed. Sam realized it felt good to laugh. As the laughter subsided, Deirdre spoke, her voice sincere and quiet. “Please don’t leave me. This will hurt Spencer as well. And what about Barnabas?”
Ah, Sam smirked. Emotional blackmail. Behind the tears and the tissues, the real Deirdre remained. “Well, if you need someone to take care of, Barnabas is your man.”
Deirdre rolled her eyes. “You’re heartless. I’m begging you to stay, and you’re joking?”
“Dying men are forgiven their humor.”
God, he hated himself. He really shouldn’t be cracking jokes while she poured her heart out. Yet, he lacked the answer she wanted.
He leaned toward her. “I’m not doing this to hurt you. I could have left you anytime, but I didn’t. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“It did. But what does it all mean now?”
“I think,” he reached for her hand. “That you and I must finally end this charade and say goodbye.”
“I can’t.” She buried her head against his chest and cried. “I can’t say goodbye to you. My darling Sam.”
“Then I’ll say it for us.” He gently lifted her from his chest and stared into those beautiful eyes he once despised. “We’ve had our run, Deirdre. And it was the rockiest, most disturbed run ever. But it’s done. You must go to Spencer, and I, to Julia. And should we meet again, I’m sure it won’t be with angel wings on.”
Deirdre laughed through her tears. “Sam-”
He put a finger to her lips. “Shush. Just quiet now. I know you can’t say goodbye and you don’t need to. Just stand up and walk away.”
“I-”
“Go. It’s easiest this way.”
Deirdre leaned over and softly kissed him. Slowly she stood and did as he asked.
Sam watched as she backed out of his room, her gaze steadfast. She paused a moment at the door, and then disappeared.
Sam gave in to his tears.
He knew he’d never see her again.
Chapter Fifty-Six
A short time later, Spencer knocked on Sam’s door and peered in. Sam sat in a chair by the window and dressed in street clothes. He stared outside, his face somber.
“May I come in?” Spencer said, unsure as to whether Sam heard his knock.
Sam turned and motioned him in. “Of course you can. I hoped I’d see you before I left.”
Spencer walked to where Sam sat, and sat against the bed’s edge, hands in his trouser pockets. “You’re all ready to go, I see?”
“Yes, I’ll be leaving the hospital and all these fond memories a bit later today. I’m going home to pack my things.”
He studied Sam. “You’re looking much better.” The color had returned to Sam’s thin face, and his eyes hinted of happiness.
Spencer reached into his coat pocket but came up empty handed. “Blasted. I tried to smuggle you in some whiskey, but Dee must have found and confiscated the bottle when I removed my coat earlier.”
Sam laughed. “That’s all right. I appreciate the thought.”
Spencer grinned. He looked down at his shoes, not knowing what to say next. Goodbyes were never his strong suit. “Dee is utterly devastated about you leaving with Julia.”
“So I hear,” Sam pushed aside an untouched lunch tray. “I doubt you’ll try to talk me out of it however.”
“I wouldn’t dare. I know you too well.” Spencer laughed. “But I had to give the pretense of an attempt for her sake, you well know.”
Sam nodded and grinned. “I know.”
An awkward silence fell, as Spencer fumbled for the right words. “Dee isn’t the only one who is going to miss you, old friend.” He looked away as color rose in his cheeks.
“Oh, you’ll find another pawn to smash at tennis.” Sam said, but looked out the window.
Spencer pulled up another chair and sat across from Sam. “Dee and I will look after Barnabas.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to leave you with all this, but I must go.”
“Can I do anything else? Steal some narcotics for you perhaps?”
Sam laughed and coughed. “Your company is good enough.”
“Do you need help packing anything?” Spencer glanced around the pristine room.
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, eh?” Sam winked.
“Good lord, man. You know I’m not thinking like that.”
“I’m doing you a huge favor, you know,” Sam said, his mood jovial. “Leaving this way and all. You’ll finally have Deirdre all to yourself. No more sick Sam for her to dote on.”
Spencer fought back the lump in his throat. “I’d rather have her in love with you again than have you ill.” He stared at his folded hands as his voice cracked. “You’re my friend, Sam. Always have been, even when I ha
ted you for marrying Dee when you didn’t love her.”
“And you really do love her, Spence, don’t you?”
Spencer looked up. “Yes, I do.”
“I’m glad. For both of you.” He rested his head back on the chair pillow. “Tell me something.”
“Anything.”
“How is it that you can love her so easily and I couldn’t love her at all?”
Spencer thought back in time for several minutes before answering. His love for Deirdre existed from the moment he laid eyes on her at secondary school. They’d been all of twelve. He smiled, remembering her, shy and quiet, with no promise of the beauty she would one day become. Spencer fell the moment his adolescent eyes spotted the long-legged blonde with the perfect ponytail and pink-rimmed glasses. Friends spoke of her family as being rich as sin, but money mattered not to him.
“Love is there or it isn’t, I guess,” Spencer finally answered. “Under all that pretentiousness Dee is just the girl I fell in love with long ago. When I met her, she kept mostly to herself, with the exception of a few random friendships that didn’t seem to last. But alas for me, she set her sights on you, Sam. At that moment, I accepted my fate. I knew Deirdre Lamont could never go for me, the lanky, tennis player from the wrong side of society. But I kept hoping that one day she’d be mine.”
“And now she is,” Sam said.
“I understand her, I guess.” Spencer smiled. “I’ve loved her for forever it seems.”
“As I have loved Julia.” Sam’s voice faded. “Which is why I must be with her now.”
“I know.”
Sam reached over to the nightstand and retrieved two thick, white envelopes. “This first envelope contains instructions for my burial.”
Spencer swallowed hard. “I see.”
Sam took a deep breath. “I don’t want any enormous public event. I want everything very private. After my death, I’ll be flown back to England and buried in the county of Hertfordshire. The church I’ve chosen for a small service and more details are explained in the letter.”
“Hertfordshire is a bit far from the home base, Sam.”
“Bravo, my good man! Now you’re getting it. Yes, the place I’ve selected to lie is very small and lovely.” He handed Spencer the second envelope, this one much thicker than the first. “That’s my will.”
A Lonely Sky Page 27