Looking for Julie

by Jackie Calhoun

  They were packing up Edie’s car by three thirty. Both were quiet at first on the way home. Finally, Jennifer said, “Well, that sucked. They probably should move the date of the Birkie to the end of January.”

  “Winters are getting warmer.”

  “Climate change, I suppose.” Said wryly. “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

  Edie shot her a surprised glance. “I don’t have plans.”

  “Would you rather go out to eat or eat leftovers at my place?” Jennifer hastened to add, “You don’t have to do either, of course, but it would be nice to have company.”

  “I lean toward the leftovers.” She liked this woman, who was so friendly and open. Claire, who was anything but friendly or open, popped into her thoughts.

  “Great.”

  The sleet had turned to light snow that melted when it hit the pavement. When she parked in Jennifer’s driveway, she grabbed Jennifer’s backpack, while Jennifer carried her ski bag inside. “I’ll just throw the backpack in my room and turn up the heat. Be right back. If you need to use the facilities, there is a bathroom down the hall to the kitchen.”

  She used it before going into the kitchen. Jennifer was already there. She’d changed out of her ski pants and into jeans. Her hair curled around her ears and glowed red under the ceiling light. “Would you like something to drink? We have beer, vodka, gin and more.”

  “A beer would taste good.” She was thirsty.

  “Dark? Light?”

  She laughed. “You’re well stocked.”

  “That’s Chip’s doing. He and his friends could arrive any minute. So be prepared. They take up a lot of space and they’re noisy.”

  “Dark sounds good.”

  “This was our parents’ house. They moved to Florida and left me in charge. Chip was still married then, living in his own place.” She smiled, her face lighting up.

  “It’s a lovely house.” It was two stories with oak woodwork and wood floors.

  “It’s too big even for the two of us, but we grew up in this house and I’ve always loved it. Besides, Chip has two kids, who are often here on weekends—a girl and a boy.”

  She had wondered about Chip, who seemed to have no wife or girlfriend. “How old?”

  “Eight and ten. They’re good little skiers and hikers. They’re fun to have around.”

  “I bet.” She thought of Jamie, who was twenty. He’d been a fun little boy, too.

  “Pasta campanella and salad and bread. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful. Can I help?” she asked.

  “Nope. I just have to warm up the pasta. It’s better fresh and there’s no meat in it. Hope that’s okay.”

  “I like pasta without meat.” Edie thought she’d eat anything right now, even Claire’s stale coffee and toast. She wondered if Claire made a fresh pot for Janine. Her cell was vibrating for the second time since her arrival. She ignored it.

  She loved the pasta and said so.

  “It’s easy. I’ll send you the recipe. It’s on my computer.”

  Edie helped clean up the dishes. “I’d better go now,” she said afterward.

  “Let’s just check out the weather.” Jennifer turned on the backyard light and peered out through gathering snow. “We were just saying we needed snow. Right? We could ski tomorrow at Nine Mile if you stayed the night. The roads are probably pretty nasty by now.”

  The garage door opened and three men spilled into the kitchen. They brought in the cold and snow on their jackets. “Mike, Tom, this is Edie,” Chip said. “She writes books.”

  The two men came forward to shake Edie’s hand. “Hope you don’t mind us barging in,” one of them said to Jennifer.

  “I’m used to it.” Jennifer smiled.

  Chip took three beers out of the fridge and gave two to his friends. “It was icy at Granite. But now it’s snowing like crazy.”

  “It was icy up north, too. How are the roads?” Jennifer asked.

  “You could skate on them. The snowplows are having trouble keeping up with the snow.” Chip opened the fridge and took out two frozen pizzas. He turned and grinned. “It’s awesome, isn’t it?”

  Edie laughed. “If you mean the snow, yes.”

  He raised his beer. “Thanks to whoever sent it.”

  Jennifer smiled at Edie. “You must stay.”

  She smiled back, said, “I have to go outside and see how bad it is.” She grabbed her jacket and went out the front door. Her car already wore a thick blanket of snow—light, fluffy stuff. She stood for a moment, looking up, tasting the flakes.

  Jennifer joined her, her jacket open, her arms spread wide, her face turned upward, too, in welcome. “I can’t let you to drive off in this.”

  She looked at Jennifer, wondering how young she was. Thirties would be like robbing the cradle, but Claire had to be in her thirties. She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” She didn’t want to end up in another snowbank. “I’ll get my backpack.”

  When they went inside, Chip was building a fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of one side of the living room. They joined him and his friends and talked about everything and nothing till Edie was fighting sleep. She awoke to Jennifer’s hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ll show you your room.” Her face was rosy in the firelight.

  Edie looked around. Chip and his friends were gone. “I’m sorry.” How rude to fall asleep in the middle of everything.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. If we’re going to ski tomorrow, we better get some sleep.”

  When she climbed under the covers in one of the upstairs bedrooms, she lay awake for what seemed a long time. She heard snoring from somewhere down the hall. Outside her window, the snow fell silently. It was too late to call Lynn back, but she knew Jamie would be awake at eleven o’clock, and his earlier call might have meant another emergency.

  “Hey,” he said sleepily. “Where you been?”

  “Skiing, talking to people. I thought you’d be awake.”

  “So did I. I left a party before it was over. That’s a first.”

  “Well, you’re healing. It takes time.”

  “Did I tell you DeWitt—he’s the one who hit me with the tire iron—is out on bail? And someone broke into Sam’s apartment. The police couldn’t find any fingerprints, but I’m sure he did it.”

  Stunned, angry and fearful for Jamie and Sam, she said, “Why was he released? He’s dangerous.”

  “Somebody screwed up. I’ve got a bodyguard now. His name is Thad and he follows me around like a bloodhound. Dad is paying him.”

  “Why haven’t you told me any of this?”

  “You’ve been out of the loop. Where are you?”

  “At a friend’s house. It’s snowing like crazy, and we’re skiing again tomorrow. Keep me informed. Okay, Jamie? How is Sam?

  “She was the one who had the party. I think she thought DeWitt would crash it and we’d nail him. She couldn’t ID him, you know. That’s one of the reasons they let him go till the trial.”

  “When is the trial?”

  “Early April, I think.”

  “I want to be there.”

  “Are you staying with some sexy woman?”

  “She’s a great skier, she and her brother.”

  “She can be sexy and a great skier.”

  “Go back to sleep, Jamie. If something else happens, let me know. Okay?”

  Someone tapped on her door in the morning, wakening her. She had dropped off after talking to Jamie and felt groggy. She looked out the window. The snow had stopped, but clung in mounds on trees and bushes, looking like a Christmas card.

  After using the bathroom and dressing, she went downstairs. A few coals still burned in the fireplace as she walked in her socks through the living room to the kitchen. Chip and Jennifer sat at the long table. Jennifer got up, coffeepot in hand.

  “Ready?”

  “Am I ever!”

  Chip pulled out the chair next to him. “Sit.” He was eating a bowl of cold cereal.r />
  “Where are your friends?” she asked him.

  “They went home. They live nearby.”

  “What would you like?” Jennifer asked, handing her the cup.

  There was a bowl of scrambled eggs with chunks of bacon and a plate of toast.

  “I’ll eat what’s on the table,” she said.

  “Cereal is my dessert,” Chip said. He had a smudgy growth of beard, which made him look like a young Brad Pitt.

  “This will be enough.” She scooped out some eggs and took a piece of toast.

  “We’re arguing about where to ski today. Jennifer thinks we should stay close to home, which means Nine Mile or Granite Peak. I thought Iola would be fun.”

  Edie thought so too, but that meant driving back roads. “Hey, Nine Mile is good. I don’t have my downhill skis.” She took a bite and looked up. Jennifer was smiling at her—eyes soft, expression unguarded. She looked away quickly when she realized Edie was looking back. Edie concentrated on her food.

  Jennifer and her brother began discussing the pros and cons of downhill as compared to cross-country.

  “So what do you prefer, Edie?” Chip asked.

  “She prefers cross-country,” Jennifer told him.

  “She can’t talk for herself?” he asked.

  Edie cleared her throat. “I do like cross-country better. It’s more environmentally kind and less expensive.” In case she sounded preachy, she added, “I like downhill almost as much.”

  Jennifer rode with Edie, after Edie convinced her that it was better to take one car rather than two, even though she would have to drive Jennifer home before leaving for Point. Chip had decided to pick up his kids and ski at Granite Peak.

  The snow was blindingly beautiful against the dark hardwoods and the green of pines and spruces and firs. Even with sunglasses, Edie squinted. “Thanks for letting me stay overnight.”

  Jennifer’s eyes were hidden behind wraparound dark glasses. “I made you stay. I think you would have gone home if I hadn’t insisted.”

  “Probably. It was a fun evening, though, even if I fell asleep in the middle of it. I like your brother and his friends.”

  “Chip moved back home after his divorce last year. It’s nice to have company, but I wish he’d stayed with his wife. She and I were good friends. We’re still friends, but there is always a choice to make. I hate that, and the kids badly wanted their parents to stay together.”

  “That must be hard,” Edie said, “especially for the kids.”

  “His wife has a high-powered job. He was always spending the money. The kids love him, though, because he’s so much like a kid himself. He likes to play.”

  “Does she like to do the things he does?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t play every minute you’re not working. You have to shop and take care of the house and make sure the kids are doing their homework. It’s a good thing I never got married. I like to do my own thing too when I’m not working.”

  Jennifer switched topics before Edie could comment. “It must take a lot of self discipline to do what you do. You don’t have the constraints of the workplace.”

  “That can be a problem.” Like going down to see Claire when she should keep her butt glued to her computer chair.

  On the trails, Edie’s long strides loosened up her muscles, aching from yesterday’s ski. After a short while, she tied her Windbreaker around her waist. A hush settled over the trails, making audible their breathing and the sound of their skis moving against the fresh snow. Then a blue jay screeched overhead. In the woods, chickadees called and nuthatches muttered. Edie heard a deer snort as if in surprise. It was an incredibly beautiful scene—the pristine whiteness, the stark trees, the evergreens bending under the heavy weight of snow. She would hate for this day to end.

  Around two the women loaded their equipment and ate the lunches Jennifer had packed for them on the way back to her house.

  “Chip and I will drive to Cable. Okay?” Jennifer said before she got out of Edie’s car. “It’ll be fun sharing the Birkie with you.”

  “These two days have been fun,” Edie replied. She was reminded of Claire and how fun didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary, at least fun with Edie.

  The interstate had been cleared. Snow was piled along the edges. When she pulled into her garage, she was already thinking about the book she was writing and where the plot should go now.

  After blowing the snow off the driveway and before booting up her computer, she called Lynn.

  “Where have you been all weekend? I know you weren’t in Madison, because I was there and I saw Claire.”

  “Where else? I was skiing.”

  “With whom? Yourself?”

  “With Jennifer Gottschalk. You know her, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. She’s a tall lady. You must match strides. You didn’t answer when I called.”

  “I spent the night at her house in Wausau. The roads were really bad and we were going to ski again today. So I stayed. Her brother lives with her.”

  “Does he? They’re both giants.”

  Edie laughed. “She’s no taller than I am. What did you call about?”

  “Just to talk. Seeing Claire made me think of you and wonder how Jamie is.”

  She told Lynn about her last phone conversation with Jamie. “I’m scared for them both.” Meaning Sam and Jamie.

  “I think Julie Decker is doing therapy once a week in Madison. I heard it through the professional grapevine. Maybe you could tell Sam that.”

  “Or you could send Dr. Decker a message for her.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Julie Decker read the message twice. Dr. Lynn Chan had sent it and for a moment, Julie tried to recall who she was. The e-mail read—

  Dear Dr. Decker,

  We met at a conference in Stevens Point a couple months ago. At that time you recommended a therapist for Samantha Thompson at the clinic where you once worked in Madison. Sam has had a number of life-threatening experiences beginning the day she tried to set up an appointment with you. They are too numerous and confusing for me to explain in an e-mail. You are the only person Sam will talk to. I understand that you’re seeing clients again in Madison. Sam can be reached at the following number. I know this is an extraordinary request, but I respect the person who asked me to make it. Her name is Edie Carpenter. If you want to talk to her, she can be contacted at the following number. Thanks in advance.

  Julie phoned Edie Carpenter. She leaned back in her office chair, listening to the rings. She would be driving to Madison on Saturday for the day. She had enough to do preparing and giving lectures, grading papers, counseling students and going to meetings. How tired she was of meetings. She much preferred therapy. She’d chosen Saturdays, when she was alone in the office with the phone workers, because those were the days her ex-husband was usually in Madison, wanting to see their daughter. Besides, Julie’s partner, Peg, was either showing horses or giving lessons on most Saturdays.

  When Edie picked up, she said, “Hi. This is Julie Decker. Dr. Lynn Chan asked me to contact Samantha Thompson at your request. She did not go into details.”

  “Hi. I did ask Lynn to send you an e-mail. I’m worried about Sam. I haven’t seen her for a while, but she is my nephew’s best friend. Do you have time to hear the story?”

  “Of course.”

  Julie listened with growing horror. It was not difficult for her to believe this man, DeWitt, would assault two kids because one had angered him. She had met too many people like this—abusive husbands and boyfriends and, more rarely, women. People with anger management problems. She had only a few questions when Edie finished talking.

  “Are you sure Sammy wants to talk to me or anyone?”

  “Yes, I’m certain of it. Jamie, my nephew, said she wanted to transfer to UW-O so that she could see you.”

  Julie chuckled. “When you last talked to her, how did she sound?”

  “Worried. She’d been unable to identify DeWitt.”

  “
Thanks, Edie. I’ll call the clinic and ask them to contact her. If she wants, she can set up an appointment.”

  “Thank you.”

  Julie snapped the phone shut and swung her chair around to look out the window.

  This had been one of the snowiest winters. She’d grown up in Chicago and remembered how she’d loved the snow and the lights on Michigan Avenue. She’d liked the snow when she and Peg had lived on Murray Street in Milwaukee in that attic apartment.

  She drove every weekday from their country home to UW-Oshkosh, sometimes on snowy roads, and now she traveled on most Saturdays to Madison. Although lovely to look at, snow was one of the hazards of living in Wisconsin, like the deer that sometimes jumped in front of her car.

  She swiveled back to her desk and sent a message to the clinic in Madison, asking someone to contact Samantha Thompson. Then she pulled on her coat and headed for home in the darkening day.

  Peg was in the kitchen. Peg’s daughter, Charlie, sat in her high chair, eating Cheerios from the tray. She banged her little feet against the chair and laughed when she saw Julie. Julie’s daughter, Peggy, had met her at the door and was telling her about her day at kindergarten.

  Julie put her arms around Peg and kissed her neck. “What’s for dinner, sweetie?”

  “Spaghetti.” Peg turned her face for a kiss. They ate spaghetti at least once a week, sometimes more often, but Julie never complained when someone else did the cooking. “Ready to eat?”

  “Sure.” She would change after dinner.

  Peg gave Charlie a bowl with cut up spaghetti. Charlie dug into it with both hands and tried to shove it in her mouth.

  Peggy laughed and started to do the same thing.

  “Hey, you’re not a baby. Use your fork,” Julie said.

  Peg smiled sweetly at her. “How was your day, Doctor?”

  “Are you a real doctor, Mama?” Peggy asked.

  “I’m not the kind that listens to your chest.” Julie was tired. It had been a long day and it wasn’t over. She had to finish off a lecture.