by Sandra Field
“If you don’t marry him, what will you do?”
“Have the baby. Find a job somewhere in the States and settle down.”
“On your own.”
Julie raised her chin. “What’s wrong with that?”
“And where does the baby’s father fit into this picture?”
“I don’t know! I guess he’d visit sometimes.”
“Julie, I’ve only seen Travis as an adult that one evening here in my apartment, but I can’t imagine he’d be satisfied with so peripheral a role. He would at least demand joint custody.”
“But—”
“You’d be tied to him for the next seventeen or eighteen years. Why not marry him? There’s obviously something very powerful between you.”
“Sex,” Julie said in an unfriendly voice.
“I’d call it passion.”
“I thought you’d be on my side!”
“This is my grandchild, Julie—or had you forgotten that?”
She had. Julie buried her head in her hands. “Ever since I met Travis, I haven’t been able to think straight,” she wailed. “I had my life under control. Lots of adventure and travel, work I love, and no ties. I wish I’d never met him!”
“But you have,” Leonora said reasonably. “Travis was abandoned as a child. Do you seriously think he’ll abandon his own child?”
“Then what am I to do?”
“Marry him. I’m not saying you’ll have a peaceful, uneventful life, you’re both too strong-minded for that. Too independent. However, if you’re willing, I think you might find love with Travis. But only if you’re willing, Julie.”
Julie bit her lip. She’d come running to Leonora for sympathy and for comfort. But Leonora’s standards were far too stringent to offer anything easy or sentimental. So she, Julie, was once again being forced back on herself. “Travis is behaving abominably toward you,” she said.
“He isn’t ready yet,” Leonora said with painful truth. “And no, my suggestion that you marry him isn’t to further my own cause. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Julie pushed herself to her feet. “You’re an amazing woman, Leonora. In all this mess, one thing’s clear—I’d be delighted to have you as a mother-in-law.”
Leonora smiled, giving Julie a brief hug. “That’s very sweet of you. In my heart of hearts, I’m convinced you’re made for each other, you and Travis. That’s easy for me to say but not as easy for you to hear.”
“You’d be invited to the wedding. If there is one.”
“I’ll attend. When it happens.”
“You’re very like Travis,” Julie said darkly. “I’ll talk to you soon. ‘Bye.”
She hurried home to her apartment. When she got in the door, the phone was ringing. Picking it up as if it were something loathsome she’d found under a rock, she said, “Hello?”
“Travis here. We’re on for Sunday afternoon, three o’clock at St. Margaret’s. I’ll let Charles and Leonora know, as well as Brent and Jenessa. I talked to Bryce and he’ll fly in on Saturday.”
Her heart jouncing in her chest, Julie said, “You’re taking my consent for granted.”
“You’ll see your parents tonight. Don’t forget I want to meet them tomorrow night. You and I can go for dinner first, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
He sounded as impersonal as if he were a booking agent, she thought with a spurt of fury. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve gotten a substitute for my medical practice from Monday until Thursday. I called the clinic and they’re willing to give you three days off. So we’ll go back to the resort. I was able to get the same cottage.”
“You’re treating me like a cipher!”
There was a taut silence. “What kind of flowers do you like?”
“Anything but roses. I’ve always hated clichés.”
“This wedding will be as far from a cliché as it can get,” he said. “Let me tell you something, Julie, and then I’m going to hang up. When I thought of settling in Mexico while you took off to Thailand, I didn’t know how I was going to stand it.”
And just what did he mean by that? Abruptly Julie realized she was holding a receiver that was humming in her ear. Damn him anyway, she thought, and banged it back in its holder. Rowers, church, a best man and a honeymoon: they were nothing but window-dressing.
Yet somehow, tacitly, she seemed to have agreed to this travesty of a wedding.
She threw together a salad, then went to see her parents to tell them she was getting married. Predictably, her mother turned misty-eyed and sentimental, while her father asked some very pointed questions about Travis’s financial state. Neither thought to ask if she was happy. But as she got up to leave, her father said suspiciously, “It’s all very sudden, Julie. Is this a shotgun wedding?”
“Really, Thomas, how crude of you, of course Julie wouldn’t do anything like that,” Pearl said, and smiled at her daughter. “We haven’t asked you what you’d like for a wedding present, darling.”
Like a tidal wave and just as unstoppable, Julie was suddenly overwhelmed with rage. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. It didn’t help. White-faced, she said in a clipped voice, “You know what I’d like? I’d like you two to go to a marriage counsellor or else get a divorce. One or the other.”
“Julie!”
For once they’d spoken in unison. But not even this minor miracle could deflect Julie. “Why do you think I’ve scarcely had a boyfriend, let alone contemplated marriage? Because my parents put me off love and marriage by the time I was five. You won’t have an honest fight, will you? You’d rather make digs at each other all day long, never resolve anything, live like enemies under the same roof. Yes, I’m pregnant. Pregnant and terrified that I’ll end up like you.”
“I won’t tolerate you speaking to us like this,” Thomas snapped.
“It’s too late, Dad—I already have. And you know what?” Julie added with an incredulous laugh. “It feels great. Let me tell you something else. As a little girl, I always thought it must be my fault—that I was the reason you didn’t get along. But I’m not going to think that way anymore. You were adults. You were responsible.”
“That’s not—” Pearl sputtered.
Julie swept on. “One more thing before I leave. I want both of you to go upstairs to the attic, look in the box with all the albums in it, and take out your wedding photo. Take ten minutes to sit there and look at it. See if you recognize yourselves… I sure didn’t.” She grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening. Good night.”
She ran down the steps and marched along the sidewalk. But once she was out of sight of the prim little bungalow where she’d grown up, Julie took a detour into a small park near the elementary school. Sinking down on an empty bench, she realized her hands were trembling like leaves in the wind. She rested them on her knees, watching them impersonally, as if they didn’t belong to her. Would her parents go up to the attic? Or would they, as usual, bury her request in a barrage of mutual recrimination?
She didn’t know. Oh, Travis, she thought, staring blindly at the gravel path, what are we doing?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Promptly at six-thirty on Friday evening, Travis drew up outside Julie’s apartment. Inside, the little red-headed boy he remembered from his first visit was bicycling up and down the hallway, banging into the walls with indiscriminate enthusiasm. Travis pushed the buzzer, restlessly moving his shoulders while he waited. He’d been behaving atrociously, giving Julie orders, refusing to consult her in any of the decisions about the wedding; he couldn’t seem to help himself. He must try to apologize tonight. If she’d let him.
Once they were safely married, the ring on her finger, he’d relax. They’d have three days together beside the ocean, in the cottage with the big bed. They’d be fine.
Impatiently he pushed the buzzer again. Perhaps she’d been late from work and was still in the shower. He’d like to surprise her wet and naked, he thought, desire like an ache in his belly.
<
br /> A couple had entered the building behind him; the man held the security door open for him. “Thanks,” Travis said briefly, and took the stairs two at a time. But when he knocked on Julie’s door, there was no answer. He stood still, straining to hear any sounds through the wood.
Only silence. He knocked again, louder, visited by the unpleasant certainty that she wasn’t there. The apartment was empty.
The ache in his gut was no longer desire, but fear. He waited another few minutes before knocking again, again without a response. Then he ran downstairs. He hadn’t gone to his condo after work; maybe there was a message there for him.
Fear transformed itself into terror. She was in the early stages of pregnancy. Surely she was all right?
As he lunged for the door, the little boy said, “She went away.”
Travis turned. “Who?”
“The lady with the green eyes.”
“What do you mean, she went away?”
“After lunch she came downstairs with a suitcase and got in a red car and drove away.”
“Do you know where she went?” Travis croaked.
“I didn’t ask. My mother says it’s rude to ask people too many questions,” he said virtuously.
Wishing the boy’s mother a thousand miles away, Travis said, “Thanks for telling me.”
“She didn’t even smile at me. Perhaps she’s mad at me.”
“I don’t think she’s very happy right now,” Travis heard himself say. “She’s not mad at you.”
The boy gave him a gap-toothed grin, hauled his bicycle around in a circle and pedaled fast toward the end wall. Travis let himself out, wincing at the thunk of rubber against plaster. When he got to his condo, there was no note from Julie among his mail; but his answering machine was blinking. Steeling himself, he entered his password.
“Travis, this is Julie. I—I’m really sorry, but I can’t go through with this. The wedding, I mean. I’ve rented a car and I’m going away for a few days, please don’t try to follow me. I need to be alone to think. I just don’t know what to do, ever since I met you my life’s been out of control… I’ll be in touch sometime next week. I—goodbye.”
His first reaction was relief that she hadn’t had a miscarriage; his second, fury that she could run away. But how could he blame her for not being able to think? He hadn’t been behaving very rationally the last couple of days.
How about the last couple of months?
He poured himself a beer and stood by the window, watching one of the island ferries pull away from the dock. He had no idea where she’d gone. Even if he did, she didn’t want him following her. So was he going to placidly sit home and wait for her to phone?
It was too late to reach Bryce and tell him not to come. How was he going to face his best friend? And what was the point in having a best man if there wasn’t to be a wedding?
He knew what his third reaction was. He just didn’t want to admit it. Pain, pure and simple. Julie had turned him down. Worse, she’d run away from him.
What other choice had he given her? What room to negotiate? None. No, he’d been too busy playing the macho, masterful male.
He slathered peanut butter on a thick wedge of bread and munched it standing by the window. Comfort food, he thought. Sticks to your ribs and the roof of your mouth. He washed the sandwich down with the last of his beer, cleaned his teeth, looked up an address in the phone book and left the condo.
The woman who answered the door of an obsessively neat bungalow bore almost no resemblance to Julie. He said politely, “Mrs. Renshaw? I’m Travis Strathem, Julie’s fiancé. Is she here by any chance?”
“She’s supposed to be with you.”
“May I come in?”
The living room was tidy, bland and excruciatingly clean, as different from Julie’s warm, eclectically decorated space as it could be. Then a man walked into the room. Desiccated, thought Travis, and introduced himself. He said, sitting down without an invitation, “Julie’s run away. It’s largely my fault, I haven’t handled things well the last few days. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
“Run away?” Pearl squeaked.
“She’s pregnant,” Thomas said accusingly.
“Yes. Does she have a favorite haunt she might have gone to?”
“If she did, we wouldn’t know about it,” Pearl said, twisting her fingers in her lap. “Julie was always a very private child.”
“Nonsense, Pearl.”
“It’s not, Thomas. We were too busy arguing to pay her much attention.”
Thomas puffed up like a bantam rooster. “Must you discuss our private lives in front of a stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger. He’s the man who wants to marry Julie and he’s the father of our grandchild,” Pearl announced, then sat down hard on a puce wing chair, looking astounded at her own effrontery.
Despite the confusion of emotion in his chest, Travis was intrigued. He said intuitively, “Did Julie come to see you last night?”
Pearl looked at Thomas, who looked at Pearl. Neither seemed prepared to answer him, so Travis added carefully, “Julie’s very afraid of marriage. She seems to think that love doesn’t last. That it can’t.”
“Ridiculous,” Thomas snorted.
“We’ve ruined her life,” Pearl wailed.
Travis said forcefully, “Your daughter is the only woman I’ve ever met with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. Yes, she’s pregnant, but that isn’t why I want to marry her. She stands up for herself, she loves adventure, she’s intelligent and capable.” He broke off with an impatient gesture. “Hell, I sound like I’m writing a resume. She’s also so beautiful she cuts me to the heart.”
Pearl quavered, “Thomas, you used to tell me how beautiful I was. A long time ago.”
Thomas looked at her across the room. His voice creaking like a hinge that needed oiling, he said, “You still are, Pearl.”
As Pearl blushed like a young bride, Travis saw the first fleeting resemblance to her daughter. He had no idea what was going on, although he sensed it was cataclysmic. Before he could think what to say next, Pearl blurted, “Julie was very angry with us last night. So this afternoon, Thomas and I phoned a marriage counsellor. Our first appointment is next week.”
Julie must have been angry, Travis thought, smothering a smile. “That’s a big step,” he said in his best bedside manner.
“All this therapy stuff, don’t know what good it does,” Thomas huffed.
“We’re going to find out,” Pearl said. “Julie gave us an ultimatum, Mr. Strathem. She was really extremely angry.” And she gave a small, secret smile.
Thomas had better watch out, thought Travis with another inner quiver of amusement, and got up to leave. “So neither of you has any idea where Julie might have gone?”
“Give us your phone number, and if we hear from her we’ll contact you,” Thomas suggested.
This was a huge endorsement. Travis did so, and took his leave. His next stop, he’d already decided, was Leonora’s. He’d arrive without warning and take the risk that she wasn’t home. But when he pressed her intercom, she answered, the connection so poor he couldn’t tell if she was pleased to hear from him or not. Again, he took the stairs two at a time. He’d be in shape for his wedding, he thought wryly. If there ever was one.
“Hello, Travis,” Leonora said.
She was wearing a slim-fitting denim skirt and a white sweater, her hair pulled back with a vivid scarlet scarf. She looked both wary and pleased to see him. He walked into the living room and stood by the window, his back to the light. “Julie and I were to have been married on Sunday,” he said. “But she’s run away. Do you know where she is?”
“No. She was here yesterday afternoon. She’s very afraid of commitment. And of her own feelings.”
“She went to see her parents yesterday and read the riot act to them.” He smiled at the tall, elegant woman who was his mother. “I’d like to have been there.”
“Ste
p one, anger. Step two, forgiveness,” Leonora said.
“Are you applying that to me as well?”
“I know you’re angry with me. And rightly so.”
He said in frustration, “My mother died. I’m having trouble bringing her—you—back to life.”
“I do understand.” For a moment Leonora’s voice faltered. “I only hope it’s something you want to do.”
“You’re very direct.”
“As are you. Julie, I’m sure, would agree with me.”
“I’ve handled this fiasco of a wedding like a bull in a china shop.”
“More like a herd of elephants in a glass factory,” she said. “Did you give her an engagement ring?”
“No! It isn’t that kind of wedding.”
“What kind is it? You’re engaged to be married, aren’t you?”
“You’re making me feel like a four-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”
“You’re in love with her, you know that.”
“I lust after her and I like her,” Travis said vigorously. “I don’t call that love.”
“In your way, you’re as afraid of love as Julie is, that’s why you’ve hounded her into this wedding. But riding roughshod over her isn’t the way to win her.” Leonora hesitated. “I’m always nervous about handing out advice. But as a young woman I turned my back on the love of my children to pursue my career as a dancer. That decision came at an extraordinarily high cost, Travis. In the long run, love is all we have.”
“Do you regret being a dancer?”
“No. But if I’d been wiser, I might have been able to have dancing and my children.”
“Charles might never have allowed that.”
“Maybe,” She gave a restless shrug. “Enough of the past. If I knew where Julie was, I’d tell you.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Impulsively he added, “Do you have any videos or film clips of your dancing?” As she nodded, he went on, “I’d like to borrow them. Soon.”
“I’d be delighted to lend them to you.”
He said slowly, “You’ll never beg for my attention, will you?”