Seasons of the Fool

by Lynne Cantwell

  Lance, on the other hand, felt the need to be the life of the party that night. The more he drank, the louder and more vulgar he got. Every time Julia tried to get him to tone it down, he called her a bitch and told her to shut the hell up. And when she got up to go inside for something, Lance leaned over to Dave and said, in a voice loud enough to wake the dead, “She’s a nice piece of ass, huh? Brainless, but a looker. Wish you had a piece of that, don’t you?”

  “Get the hell out of my house,” Nina had screamed at him, waking the baby.

  He hadn’t seen Julia again until her grandmother’s funeral. Nina had been too ill to go, and Lance had been out of town – or anyway, that was Julia’s official story. Dave remembered sitting in the pew with his arm around her shoulders, thinking that Mrs. Morton was his last link to her, and wondering, now that she was gone, whether he would ever see Julia again.

  And he hadn’t. Not until she had moved out here last fall.

  He dismissed the possibility that Lance’s troubles could affect him. That was her fear and anxiety talking – nothing more. And if she was this upset now, she was going to need support to get through the trial. He intended to be there for her.

  He put on his coat and went outside to shovel out his car. When he saw Ron drive away, he planted his shovel in a snowbank and walked down the street to see her.

  ~

  Julia stiffened at the knock on her door. She was pretty sure she knew who it was, and she didn’t want to see him right now. But she didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t as if she could pretend to be out.

  Wiping her eyes on her shirt sleeve, she went to let him in.

  “What happened?” he said at once, and slipped his arms around her.

  She hugged him back and stepped away, gesturing toward the letter on the sofa. He picked it up and read it. “This is good news. Isn’t it?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. The hearing is basically a formality. There’s no reason for the judge not to grant the divorce.” She took in a breath. “And then I’ll be Julia Morton again.”

  “But you’re upset,” he said, not quite understanding.

  “Relieved,” she explained. “Not upset, exactly. Relieved.”

  He nodded. “I can come with you to the hearing,” he offered.

  She waved him off with a shaky chuckle. “No! That would be…weird. No. Thanks for the offer, but I need to go by myself.” Go and face Lance one last time, and hope I never have to see him again.

  Dave nodded again, and then stepped toward her. It was all she could do not to fall into his arms. “Look, Dave,” she said, holding up her hands. “I meant what I said last night. We can’t do this. Maybe someday,” she said, softening a little at the stricken look on his face, “but not now.”

  “When?” he said.

  When your kids are grown. When Lance is safely in jail. “I don’t know,” she said.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he said, “All right. I guess I’ve waited this long.”

  She couldn’t look at him. “Um. Do you want something to eat? I’m sure everything in the fridge survived – the house was like a meat locker when I got here.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s okay. I should go home.” He paused. “Can I take you to dinner tonight? To celebrate your good news.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking at him sidelong. “I can’t. I made plans with Ron.”

  “Ron,” he said. “Ron Gorski. You spent last night with me, and tonight you’re having dinner with Ron Gorski.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t know what to think.” And he let himself out.

  She covered her eyes with one hand and wondered how much worse this day could get.

  ~

  At 6:55 p.m., Ron Gorski parked his truck in the driveway of the Morton cottage, hemming in Julia’s car, and strode up the walk to her front door.

  Elsie tsked, shaking her head. “What is wrong with that child?”

  “What’s happening now?” Thea asked, coming to stand beside her at the window.

  “That workman is back,” Elsie said. “And he doesn’t look like he’s here to fix anything.”

  The two women watched as Julia got into Ron’s truck. He backed out almost recklessly and revved the truck’s motor a little too loudly as they pulled away.

  “I thought we were on track,” Thea said. “Didn’t she stay with David last night? Why is she going out with this person tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” Elsie said, crossing her arms. She walked to her loom and picked up the shuttle. Almost violently, she shoved it through the warp strands and pulled the beater toward her.

  “That won’t help, dear,” Thea said, seizing the shuttle and taking it gently from Elsie’s hand. “Delicate movements, or you could ruin the design. And you don’t want that. Not when we’re so close.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the window.

  Elsie lowered her chin to her chest, nodding. “Of course. You’re right, dearest. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You were upset,” Thea said, slipping an arm around Elsie and pulling her head to her breast.

  “He’s no good for her,” Elsie said with a sigh as Thea stroked her hair.

  “I know.”

  “It’s going to end badly. I just know it.” She pulled away from Thea. “What are we going to do?”

  Thea drew in a breath. “Well, we can’t do anything tonight. But if we can get her into the labyrinth again, this may all sort itself out.”

  “Now?” Elsie said. “You want to send her into the labyrinth in February? She’ll freeze in there!”

  “I know there’s a risk. But what choice do we have?”

  Elsie looked at her weaving and shuddered. “What choice does she have?” she said bitterly. “All right. But let’s try to wait ‘til it’s at least a little warmer.”

  Thea glanced toward the window again. “Let’s hope for an early spring.”

  ~

  But spring was slow in coming.

  With less editing work coming in, Julia found she had more time to work on her own writing. This was both a blessing and a curse. The whole point of moving into the cottage, after all, was to have the time and the solitude to write. But the going was slow and painful. Her characters seemed to insist that she plumb the depths of her own emotions – all the anger, bitterness, betrayal and hurt lurking in the dark corners of her own soul. Her work demanded that she deal with all of the stuff she would rather gloss over.

  Her therapist would probably have said her characters were a reflection of her psychological state, and that deep inside, she was crying out for healing. The woman would probably also say that working through her troubled feelings by writing could be a major step toward her recovery.

  Yeah, well, she can go take a hike. I’m not paying her for her advice any more, and I wish she’d get out of my head.

  Julia sighed and stared out the window, trying to figure out a way to justify her characters’ actions without making them all about her.

  The other problem with the lack of a steady income was that she was finding herself increasingly beholden to Ron to take her out to dinner. He wasn’t the most congenial of dinner companions, but she couldn’t afford to pass up free food.

  Oh, he was nice enough. Polite. Always held doors open for her, always pushed in her chair and helped her on with her coat. He actually brought her flowers on Valentine’s Day, even though they had only been seeing each other for a week or so. But a sparkling conversationalist he was not. He had no interest in the arts; he knew nothing about what she did for a living, and didn’t appear to have any interest in learning about it. Any jokes she made, particularly if they involved wordplay, went straight over his head.

  And there was something a little off about the guy. He sometimes looked almost predatory when he regarded her across the restaurant table. And she was a little troubled by his interest in guns. He collected them – for their firep
ower, not for any aesthetic reasons – and he spent a lot of time at the shooting range when he wasn’t either working or with her.

  So far, she had managed to avoid sleeping with him. But tonight marked almost three weeks since their first date, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him off much longer.

  Tonight, she could plead her need for an early bedtime, for she needed to be in Chicago the next day for the divorce hearing. But past that – especially once he realized she was legally available – she didn’t think she would be able to keep him out of her bedroom.

  He picked her up at seven. “I thought we’d go to our place,” he said as he walked her out to the truck. His breath made little puffs of frost in the air.

  Our place was the mediocre Mexican restaurant in Long Beach. Julia, who had frequented Rick Bayless’s restaurants in Chicago, considered our place to be not much better than Taco Bell. But the margaritas were decent, and he was paying, so she nodded.

  He had a plateful of something smothered in cheese. She opted for her usual, the chicken and shrimp fajitas, and immediately asked for a box so she could take half of it home for lunch the next day. As they ate, he talked about the gun show that was coming up in South Bend the following weekend; he’d been after her for a week or so to come with him, but she kept putting him off, saying she had to work.

  Now, he said, “I’m going to have to insist that you come with me on Saturday.”

  She shot him a look. “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because you need to have a gun.”

  She blinked. “I do? What makes you say that?”

  “Well,” he said, sitting back in his chair with his knees splayed, “you’re all alone in that cottage. There’s no telling when some crazy person might get a wild hair up his ass and decide to break in and rape you.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I wasn’t aware that was a problem in my neighborhood,” she said lightly. “In fact, I’ve always thought it was really safe.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” he said, with an odd, almost avid, expression.

  “Thanks for the offer,” she said, “but I really do have to work all weekend. I’m on deadline to finish editing that big five-hundred-page report, remember? I’m going to need every spare hour between now and then to get it done. I probably shouldn’t even have come out with you tonight.”

  “You’ve got all day tomorrow and Friday,” he pointed out.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t,” she said, putting a note of apology into her voice. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a few days now. I need to go out of town tomorrow and I’ll probably be gone until late Friday.” The massive report was a fabrication, but at least this much was true; after the hearing, Elaine was taking her to lunch, and she had dinner plans with some friends she hadn’t seen in months. She meant to spend Friday at the house in Evanston, sorting through whatever Lance hadn’t either sold off or taken with him, and deciding whether there was anything she still wanted to keep. She expected it to be a draining exercise, and was prepared to stay all weekend if she had to.

  Ron’s brows lowered at this news. “Where are you going?”

  “Out of town,” she repeated.

  “Where out of town?”

  None of your business, mister. “Why?”

  Clearly, he wasn’t used to anybody pushing back. His mouth compressed into a line, and he began to redden. “Because I want to know, that’s why,” he said.

  “I have some business to attend to in Chicago,” she said. His manner began to frighten her; she realized that she was several miles from home, and while she had her winter coat, she wasn’t exactly dressed for a hike in subfreezing temperatures.

  “I don’t think you should go,” he said.

  “It’s not up for debate.” Now she was getting angry. Who did he think he was, telling her what she could and couldn’t do?

  His expression hardened. “I don’t care. You’re not going.”

  She put down her fork, lest she be tempted to stab him in the eye with it. “I am, in fact, going. And you are going to take me home. Right. Now.” She gave him as level a gaze as she could manage, while anger and fear tussled over the contents of her stomach.

  His face turned beet red. “I’ll take you home, all right. But you’re not going anywhere tomorrow. Not without me.” He waved down the waitress with a peremptory jerk of one hand.

  She slammed down her napkin, grabbed her purse, and left for the ladies’ room – where she promptly threw up her dinner in the toilet. Still locked in the stall, she leaned her head against the gaudy ceramic tile and thought about how she was going to get herself out of this.

  There was no bus service and no taxi service. She supposed she could call the police and ask them to escort her home, but that was no guarantee that she would be able to get to Chicago in the morning; she was pretty sure Ron was capable of disabling her SUV, and they wouldn’t post a cop at her place all night.

  For that matter, she wasn’t sure she trusted him to take her home. He might take her to his place instead, wherever that was. She had never been to his place – he always picked her up and drove her home. Clearly, she didn’t know him well enough.

  Clearly, she didn’t know him at all. Where did he get off, telling her where she could go and when?

  She pulled out her phone, weighing it in her hand. Dave was in Chicago, as far as she knew; she hadn’t spoken to him since he’d walked out of her place the day after the big snow. Even if he were here in Michiana, it would be beyond awkward for her to call him.

  That left her other neighbors. Mr. Starek had once told her he couldn’t drive after dark any longer. That left Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie.

  She dialed their home number and prayed one of them would pick up.

  “Hello?” Ms. Elsie said.

  “Oh, thank God.” Relief washed over her.

  “Julia, dear, is that you? Where are you?” Ms. Elsie sounded worried.

  “I’m at Hacienda,” she said. “I went out to dinner with Ron….”

  “Yes, we saw you leave with him,” the older woman put in.

  “And he’s said some kind of disturbing things to me, and I wondered whether one of you could come and pick me up,” she said, realizing as she said it that her story sounded pretty lame.

  That didn’t seem to bother Ms. Elsie. “We’ll be right there,” she said. “Where are you right now?”

  “I’m in the ladies’ room.”

  “Stay put. We’ll come in and get you. Goodbye, dear.”

  “Goodbye,” she said, but Ms. Elsie had already hung up.

  As she waited, she puttered around the restroom – washing her hands, checking her makeup and hair as if she still cared how she looked – and thought about Ms. Elsie’s response. It was almost as if she had been expecting Julia to call. But why? Did she and Ms. Thea know something about Ron that she didn’t? Maybe they’d had some dealings with him before. But then why hadn’t they said anything to her?

  Dave had trusted him. But Dave was one of the deep, dark topics she was trying to avoid thinking about.

  It felt as if it took forever for her rescuers to arrive, while she hung around in the ladies’ room and tried to look unobtrusive when other patrons came and went. But it was probably only ten or fifteen minutes before Ms. Elsie strode in through the door. “Julia,” she said, and hugged her tightly. “It’s all right now. Thea’s gone to have a word with Ron, and then we’ll leave.” She pulled away to look at Julia’s face. “What did he say to you?”

  “He said he wasn’t going to let me go to Chicago tomorrow.”

  “Wasn’t going to let you?” Ms. Elsie said, surprised. “As if he owned you?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly how it sounded to me.” Julia nodded emphatically. “But I have to go. Tomorrow’s my divorce hearing. I have to be there.”

  “Of course you do,” Ms. Elsie said.

  “I didn’t want to tell him why I was going,” she went on. “I don’t know why. But something to
ld me it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “I’m glad you listened to your gut,” Ms. Elsie told her. “You don’t have to justify your movements to anyone.”

  Ms. Thea poked her head in through the door. “Let’s go.” And the three of them walked out to the older women’s car, with Julia averting her gaze from the table where she and Ron had sat.

  She crawled into the back of the women’s tiny two-door car, and Ms. Thea drove them sedately home.

  No one spoke until they pulled up in front of Julia’s cottage. Then she said, “Thank you so much for coming to get me. Maybe it was crazy, but Ron was acting so strangely that I just didn’t trust him to bring me home.”

  Ms. Elsie turned in her seat. “Always trust your gut, Julia,” she said. “It will never steer you wrong.”

  “Julia,” Ms. Thea asked, “what if you drove to Chicago tonight? Would you have somewhere to stay?”

  Julia looked at her in surprise. “You think I should?”

  “I think Elsie and I would feel better if you did,” she said.

  She pondered her options. “I suppose I could stay with Elaine.”

  “Why don’t you call her right now and see?” Ms. Thea said.

  “I’m not packed yet, but it won’t take long,” Julia said as she punched up Elaine’s number. “Hi, Elaine, it’s me. Fine, fine. Listen, what if I drove in tonight and stayed with you and Greg? The hearing starts kind of early, and if I leave now, I won’t have to deal with rush-hour traffic in the morning…. Great! Thanks a million. See you guys in a couple of hours.” She ended the call and turned to the older women. “She thinks it’s a great idea.”

  Both Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie looked relieved. “Of course, it is,” said Ms. Elsie. “Now go on in and pack your things and get going.”

  “And don’t worry about anything here,” Ms. Thea said. “If Ron shows up in the morning, we’ll take care of him.”

  Ms. Elsie nodded. “Have a safe trip, dear, and let us know how it all turns out.” She hoisted herself out of the car so Julia could get out.

  Julia gave her a hug. “I will. And thanks again for picking me up. I think leaving now is a good idea, too. I didn’t realize until you suggested it how much I just want to get all of this over with.”