Maia had encouraged Ben. Maia believed everything Ben did or said was wonderful. That was Maia.
Adela was different. The instant Ben told her he was planning to marry—who? A girl who’d been working a party—when had they met? Five days before—and the marriage was going to take place when? In three days—no wonder Adela had freaked. Even Ben stopped taking her calls.
He half-suspected Ben had arranged a hasty marriage to forestall Adela. For every good-natured bone in Ben’s body, Adela was, well, the opposite. She wasn’t mean, but her temper drove her way beyond good judgment.
Luke rinsed his plate and fork under the kitchen faucet and left them in the sink for Esther.
In the end, what it came down to was his duty to his cousin and friend. Even to Adela. It would be best for all concerned if he, Luke, confronted Juli privately and let her know he was watching.
Chapter Eight
When renters used their side of the front porch it was easy to hear them through the tall wooden divider. Today, all was quiet.
Juli had her sketchbook, pencils, sharpener and eraser laid out like surgical instruments on the white plastic patio table. While these instruments weren’t as sharp, they were scary. She reminded herself it wasn’t about success or failure.
This wasn’t a commitment.
She started with the medium pencil and played around sketching shapes and shading them. Juli was bent over the sketchbook in her lap and didn’t hear the renter coming up the crossover until she was at the house. Juli looked up. The woman stopped, first tugging at the hem of her knit tank top, then brushing sand from her arms.
“Hi, there. Name’s Emily. Husband’s James. I’m sure you’ve seen him coming and going.”
“Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Juli. My husband’s name is Ben.” She laid the sketchbook on the table and stood up.
Emily leaned against the railing. “Just you and your hubby? No kids?”
“Just us.” She remembered Ben’s warning not to let on they weren’t renters.
“I hope my crew aren’t bothering you.”
“Not at all. We hardly hear anyone.”
She laughed. “Lucky you. I could use some quiet. Are you an artist? What a great place to come and capture nature. I won’t bother you. Creative people need their space, I know.”
Children’s voices rose, distantly from inside the house, perhaps in teasing or in anger. Hard to tell.
Emily said, “Better go. See you around.”
“Bye,” she waved.
Juli watched Emily vanish from view as she entered her side of the porch.
She’d maintained the image of being a renter without actually having to lie. The renter had taken her for a creative type.
She had to laugh. Two weeks ago this woman, or someone like her, could have been checking out at Juli’s register, griping about the price of food, the lack of brands she wanted, the poor quality of the help, whatever. If Juli said the wrong thing, the woman might have complained to the store manager—all because she was in a mood, or mad at her husband or kids, and gotten Juli written up.
Here she saw Juli as a fellow vacationer who could afford one of these houses on the oceanfront for a week, and one stupid sketch pad and pencil made her a creative type who must have her space respected.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps coming up from the parking area below the house. That stairway led up to the crossover where it met the front porch. She leaned over the railing to see who was visiting and her good mood evaporated.
She and Luke were going to clash. She could feel it in her bones.
“Ben here?” He joined her on the porch.
Not even a hello? She bristled. “He’s at his doctor’s appointment.”
“By himself?” After a long stare, Luke turned toward the beach and put his hands on the porch railing. His three-quarter profile was classic with a strong forehead and chin, and high cheekbones. Handsome. In a hard way.
The innate artist in her admired his bone structure and polished appearance. The worker in her scorned his long-fingered, uncalloused hands. His gray dress slacks and shiny shoes looked out of place in this world of sand and sea oats.
She asked, “What’s your problem?”
He shrugged as if shaking off something unwelcome.
“Don’t pretend. Spit it out.”
“I wasn’t going to pretend. I don’t mind speaking the truth. Can you say the same?”
“What does that mean?”
He faced her, his demeanor proclaiming cool as he leaned back against the railing and let his hands hang from his pockets. He even slouched elegantly, but he couldn’t hide the tension that started in his clenched jaws and seemed to run the length of his body.
He glanced past her to the sketchbook. She flipped the book over to a blank page.
“My concern is Ben. He met you two weeks ago and here you are. I don’t know how you managed it, but I won’t let you take advantage of him. He’s vulnerable.”
“He’s a grown man and can make his own decisions.”
“A grown man who found out barely a month ago he’s terminally ill.”
Ben hadn’t actually told her when he’d found out. Had he married her on the rebound? Instead of a bad love affair, he was rebounding from dreadful news? Yes.
“I can tell you I have no ulterior motives and this is a business arrangement—of Ben’s design, not mine—but you won’t believe me. It’s me you have a problem with.” She waited, but he didn’t speak. “I’m not one of you. I’m a waitress. A cashier. A night-stocker. I never even graduated high school. But guess what? Ben likes me and wants to spend his last months with me.”
“You think it’s about pedigree? Well, I’ve got news for you. We aren’t blue bloods either. But we’re also not thieves.”
Heat rushed up her chest, her neck, and flooded her face. “You need to explain that.” She clenched her fists.
“Do I?” He pushed away from the railing and moved closer. “Maybe I should explain to the police instead. Items were taken from the coatroom. I saw you with your friend going through the jackets and coats.”
She remembered Frankie being in the coatroom when she was about to leave. Other than that she had no idea what he was talking about. Had the act of getting her backpack looked suspicious to him? What an arrogant jerk.
“I don’t owe you explanations. This arrangement is between Ben and me. When Ben is gone, you’ll never see me again. In fact, you don’t have to see me now. You can turn around and go. Leave me alone.”
“Remember what I said. I won’t let you hurt Ben—not without consequences.”
Luke left. She went to the divider and squinted through a crack in the boards. No one there to overhear, thank goodness.
Did Frankie steal something from the country club? He’d looked uncomfortable when she entered the coatroom. Not just uncomfortable, sneaky. She didn’t know if he’d stolen anything, but wouldn't be surprised if he had.
Ben came home. He smiled, but his eyes were sad.
“You look tired,” Juli said.
“I am. I’m going up to take a nap.”
“What did the doctor say?” Did she want to know? No, but she should ask.
He hung his keys on the wooden hanger by the door. “No change. He’s happy with how I’m doing, considering. He says you’re good medicine for me.”
She responded with a polite laugh. Her presence wasn’t some fast-acting miracle cure. Ben was hearing what he wanted to hear.
Should she mention Luke? It might seem odd to Ben if she didn’t and Luke did. “Luke dropped by while you were gone. He didn’t stay.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” She’d told him so that was done. “I think I’ll run some errands while you’re resting?”
“Have fun.”
Two weeks since she’d been proposed to, and a week married, Juli borrowed the car and drove back to Morehead City. She didn’t trust this deal with Ben. Whether too good to be true, or
too weird to work, she didn’t trust the arrangement to go as well as he thought it would.
In fact, given Luke’s animosity and knowing the sentiment was likely shared by the rest of the family, Juli decided the marriage and a prenup might truly be the best way to ensure the contract terms would be honored—as Ben had suggested.
Regardless, when Ben was gone she’d need her own place again. Her apartment wasn’t fancy, but it was affordable. It was locked up tight, too, all of the locks, including the ones she’d added to the door on the ground floor out of her own pocket.
The stairs were steep, narrow and dark, but she liked the second floor because it was harder to break into. Not impossible, just less convenient. She had nothing worth stealing, but her stuff still meant something to her. She’d only taken a few things to Ben’s house, mostly clothing and personal items, half-expecting to bounce right back here instead of actually saying ‘I do’ with Ben.
“Hey, Jules.”
Frankie had crept up quietly. It annoyed her. All the locks in the world didn’t work if you were careless about using them.
“Hey, yourself.”
Frankie lived on the first floor, front left unit.
“Where’ve you been?”
“With a friend. A sick friend. I’ll be away for a while longer.”
“Sam was rabid over how you left. I tried to smooth it over, but it didn’t work. Maybe give him a little time.” Frankie fidgeted, hands in pockets, hands on hips, leaning into the door frame, shifting his feet….
“I don’t plan to work for Sammy again.”
“I went by Singer’s looking for you.”
She grabbed her backpack from the corner and set it on the counter. “What did they say?”
“That you’d quit.”
“I asked to take leave. They refused.”
“Asked for leave so you could take care of a sick friend? Must be a really good friend.” He leaned against the counter and toyed with one of the backpack straps.
Juli shrugged and dropped a bag of clothing next to the backpack.
Frankie moved in closer. “Seems kind of out of nowhere. You never mentioned a good friend like that. Must be one with money, huh?”
She wanted to say, ‘not your business,’ but knew it would only feed his curiosity, so she deflected with, “Did you steal anything during the Hammond’s party?”
Frankie slapped the countertop. “Nice. Very nice. Why would you say that?”
“Just something I heard.” She grabbed a paper bag from under the sink and popped it open. She threw in a sweat jacket and an old pair of sneakers. Morning jogs on the beach sounded like the height of luxury.
“From the police?”
“What?”
“You all but accused me of stealing.”
“Oh. Well, you said you didn’t.” She grabbed the milk from the fridge. It was out of date so she poured it down the sink drain.
“Who asked? The police?”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“No one special. Someone mentioned something got stolen and I remembered how you acted when I came into the coatroom. If you didn’t, you didn’t. Forget it.” She set the bag by the front door.
“I’ll help you carry your stuff down.” He reached for the backpack.
“No, thanks, I’m not leaving yet. I’d like to be alone. I have some things to take care of.”
He cracked his knuckles. “Sure. No problem. I’ll carry a load down on my way out.”
“No, thanks. I can handle it.”
Frankie was dissatisfied and pouted. “What? Now, I’m a thief? I’m not good enough to touch your bags?” He nudged his shoe against one of the bags on the floor.
“Not what I said, Frankie.” She wasn’t going to miss him. On the other hand he would likely still be living here when she returned. No need to make enemies. “I appreciate the offer, Frankie, but no thanks. I’ll keep in touch.”
****
Ben was holding a piece of paper when she entered the room. In a low, serious voice, he asked, “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Guilt flared. What was it? Frankie? Keeping her apartment?
Her stomach twisted. Was their deal over already? “What do you mean?”
Ben waved the GED pamphlet. “Is this yours?”
The flush sweeping her body felt like it could’ve rivaled the apocalyptic sunset.
“It is yours, isn’t it?” He laid the pamphlet on the counter next to the books she’d purchased. He rushed to her and touched her arms. “You aren’t going to faint are you? Do you need to sit down? I was teasing. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She breathed deeply. “It's embarrassing.”
He pulled her down onto the sofa. “Why are you embarrassed? I don’t know how it happened that you didn’t get a high school diploma, but I can help.”
“No.”
“I want to help you. Do you need to take classes? How does it work?”
“I can take classes or study on my own and then I take a test.”
“The pamphlet says you can study online.”
“I haven’t really used computers. I don’t have one and I’m not….”
“Come with me.” He grabbed her hand, excited. “This way.”
Like an eager kid, he led her to his study and insisted she sit at his desk.
“Watch,” he said.
That was the first of the lessons. It became part of their routine.
Ben enjoyed giving—giving to people in general, but especially giving to her.
Briefly, she was annoyed. Juli didn’t want to be anyone’s project, but then she realized it wasn’t about her wants. This was what Ben needed to do for Ben. Good deeds. Something to leave behind.
If he needed a beneficiary of his good works or someone to be his project, then she could receive it gracefully. The benefit to her was unmistakable and satisfying to him.
****
During their first two weeks of marriage they became more comfortable with each other. She marveled Ben had picked them as a good match so quickly and she hoped it would last. She wasn’t drawn to him physically, but neither was she repelled. They touched and held hands. One hand over another, helping to guide a mouse, could feel intimate, and it did—friend intimate. A close friend.
Once or twice she gave Ben an opening to discuss his illness more fully, but he turned away as if not recognizing her interest. She was torn about pressing the issue. She was afraid he’d invite her to go with him to the doctor’s office. Riding with him, even sitting in the waiting room while he met with his doctor, was okay, but as his wife, they might expect her to go with him to the examination room—way beyond the level of intimacy she expected to share in a platonic relationship.
But it was only the second week.
Almost every evening they walked toward the sunset, usually hand in hand. People nodded and smiled at them. Juli liked that and the feel of his hand in hers, or his arm around her shoulders, gave her a strange sort of satisfaction.
Most nights, Ben went to bed early and her restlessness returned. Juli would stand at the porch rail like a figurehead on the prow of a ship, but restless, watching the night. She was in her twenties. There was life out there in the world. Now that she had the luxury of rest and free time, she was lonely, especially in the quiet of the evening.
In Emerald Isle proper there was little night life to speak of, certainly none anywhere near this strip of sand where she and Ben lived. When the sun went down, and the families came in from their beach activities, all was peaceful. She was alone and adrift, or would’ve been adrift, except she was anchored here, moored for the time being at Sea Green Glory. She consoled herself that her feelings were natural given the circumstances, but she acknowledged they were also ungrateful.
It was important to remember this was business, a contractual arrangement, despite the wedding ceremony. Almost all of the benefits in this bargain fell to her. In good faith, she coul
d do better by Ben.
In fact, she cared about Ben, but within limits. And the limit was friendship.
Juli vowed to withhold deep emotions from their relationship. She would do her best to make this a worthwhile deal for both of them, but to allow too deep an attachment to grow for a man who was soon to die, would be foolish.
Chapter Nine
Juli put off dinner at Luke’s as long as she could. Finally, Ben insisted.
“I want you to get to know each other better.”
She resolved to make the best of it. “Where are we going?”
“He invited us to his home.”
“We were going to a restaurant.”
“He changed his mind.”
She kept her back turned, pretending to look out of the window, so he wouldn’t see her face. “What should I wear?”
Ben seemed to seriously consider her question. “You look wonderful in everything.”
She huffed. “Please.”
“Leave your hair long. I like it. If you don’t mind, that is.”
Juli remembered his kind words while dressing to go. She was foolish to be so apprehensive. It was only dinner.
She reached up and touched her hair, self-conscious, but smiling. Maia had convinced her to get it trimmed and add highlights. It still hung below her shoulders, but was much more flattering.
Juli wore a lightweight skirt with a scarf-like pattern and a solid red knit top, her clearance items. She checked herself in the mirror and was happy with the purchases. She tossed her head, pleased with how her new haircut fell back into place, cascading neatly over her shoulders. Juli agreed with Ben—she liked her new look.
Luke lived on the sound side of the island.
Ben drove. He asked, “Are you nervous?”
Juli stopped her fingers mid-tap and stretched them out on the arm rest. “Yes.”
“It’ll be fine. Luke is a great guy. We’ve been close all of our lives.”
The late afternoon light picked out the silver in Ben’s hair. She hadn’t noticed it before. “You’re both bachelors?” She laughed. “Or were, I guess.”
“I’ll tell you about Deb sometime. We were college sweethearts and our marriage was over almost before it began. I had a hard time of it when she died.”
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