Seasons of the Fool

by Lynne Cantwell

  He laughed, too. Then he took the dishtowel from her, dried his hands, and pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve missed you,” he said in her hair.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  He tilted her face up to his and kissed her, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth. After a moment, she pulled away and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. He sighed and let her go. “I think Randi’s on to us,” he said as he handed the dishtowel back to her and plunged his hands into the sink again.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “She thinks I should marry you.”

  “Did you explain to her that you’re already married?” she said, teasing.

  “I did point that out.” He handed her a bowl.

  She wrapped the towel around it as she eyed him sidelong. “So what was that at lunch, when she asked whether I was ‘her’?”

  He sighed. “Nina went off on me one night, right after the last time I saw you. The kids were in the room at the time. I guess Randi remembered it.” He laughed shortly. “Although I don’t know why that would surprise me. It was a fairly memorable night, after all. After that little discussion, Nina tried to kill herself.”

  Julia froze. “Oh, Dave.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “She’s been in and out of the hospital since then. There’s been one other suicide attempt.” He let out a breath as he glanced over at her. “So yeah, it’s been pretty rockin’ and rollin’ at our house. Even more so than usual.”

  She put down the towel and slid her arms about his waist. “I am so sorry,” she said.

  He clung to her. “Not your fault,” he said. “Not anybody’s fault. The meds work for a while, but then she quits taking them.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, and for once, he let them fall. It felt so good to let his guard down. “I just keep trying to hold it all together. Give the kids as much of a normal life as I can. But I’ve taken so much time off from work this year…I’m afraid they’re going to fire me, Jule. If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do.” He let her go and pulled up his shirt to wipe his face.

  “You’ll do what you have to do,” she said. “Just like you’ve been doing all along.”

  “I’m just so tired.”

  “I know.” She stroked his arm.

  “But I can’t just leave her. I married her in sickness and in health.”

  Julia’s hand paused for a moment. Then she resumed her stroking. “I know,” she whispered. “That damned honor of yours is part of why I love you.”

  He pulled her against him and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, too. God, could this be any more of a mess?”

  She kissed him swiftly and picked up the dishtowel again. “Don’t tempt Fate, mister. I haven’t testified against Lance yet.” She sighed. “And then there’s Ron.” And she told him about the handyman breaking in.

  The dishes were forgotten. “My God, Jule,” he said as he pulled her against him again. He had seen the broken window pane, but the kids hadn’t given him a chance to ask about it. “Are you all right?”

  She snorted a laugh. “More or less. Writing is great therapy, as it turns out.”

  He shook his head against her hair. “I should never have sent him over here. I’m so sorry.”

  She pulled back to look at him. “Stop, okay? It’s not your fault. It’s not even my fault for going out with him. It’s not anybody’s fault but his.”

  He searched her face. “You believe that, don’t you?” he said wonderingly.

  Her lips quirked up. “Most of the time.” She drew in a breath and pulled away. “Anyway, life goes on. Lance’s trial starts on the fourth. So I’ll be in town next Friday to meet with Andy to prepare for my testimony.”

  “You’re not going to drive back that night, are you?” he asked, turning back to the dishes.

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest. I guess I could stay with Elaine.”

  “Stay with me. With us,” he amended, glancing toward the loft, where the kids were still making a racket. “We’ve got a guest room. And it would be crazy for you to drive all the way out to Elaine’s.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of taking the South Shore in,” she said.

  “Then it’s even dumber to go out to Elaine’s afterward,” he said. “You can take the L to our house, and I can drive you home the next day.”

  “Or I could take the South Shore home.”

  “Sure,” he said, to humor her.

  She eyed him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. She probably does, at that. Then she gave him a slow smile and said, “All right. I’m sold. And thank you. Um.” She paused. “Nina won’t be there, will she?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “I expect she’ll be in the hospital for some time to come.”

  ~

  Julia held it together until Dave and the kids left. Then, her arms wrapped around her middle, she sat on the couch and let the tears flow.

  He’s never going to leave her.

  She knew him. She might know him better than she knew herself. Once he took a moral stance, that was it. There would be no going back, no changing his mind. He might love her – and she didn’t think he would have lied to her about that – but he wasn’t going to leave Nina for her.

  Ever since her divorce became final, she had been building up a lovely fantasy in her head, about how Dave would figure out some justification for getting a divorce, and then the two of them would have the life they should have had. He would teach, and she would write, and everything would be blissful and perfect.

  Well, she was a novelist, after all. She had a lot of practice at making up stories, and at making farfetched situations seem plausible. And her perfect scenario had certainly seemed plausible to her. She had simply failed to take his stubborn streak into account.

  She hadn’t taken his kids into account, either. And she knew, now that she had seen them all together, that if he ever did leave his wife, he and the kids would be a package deal. As unstable as he said she was, he would never let her have custody.

  Her happily-ever-after ending was crumbling before her eyes.

  It didn’t mean she couldn’t have a relationship with him. But she was tired – dead tired – of being the third corner of a triangle. She wanted all of him. And it wasn’t going to happen.

  He’s not going to leave her.

  She needed time to adjust to this new reality.

  And she was pretty sure a week wouldn’t be enough time. For a moment, she considered canceling her appointment with Andy. Or rescheduling it for a date midweek, so that Dave wouldn’t be free to drive her home the next day. Or she could invent some pretext for staying with Elaine, after all. Or she could just take the train home Friday night as she had originally planned.

  One thing was certain: as fragile as her composure was right now, the last thing she ought to be doing was spending a night under the same roof with Dave and his kids.

  ~

  Elsie looked up as Thea, her eyes aglow, came in the front door. “Progress?” Elsie asked hopefully.

  “Progress,” Thea confirmed. “David brought his children over to meet her.”

  Elsie’s face lit up. “Oh, my. That does sound encouraging.” She glanced at her weaving, and then bent to look at it more carefully. “We’re not in the clear yet, though.”

  “I know,” said Thea. “I’ve seen the same signs. But we have reason to hope, dear. I’m sure of it.”

  Elsie looked again at her weaving. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “What I’m seeing is a knot that may never be untangled.”

  ~

  In the end, Julia chose not to reschedule her prep session with her lawyer. It didn’t seem fair to ask everyone in his office to rearrange their calendars just so she could avoid seeing Dave again.

  She managed to dodge him for most of the weekend, relying on the excuse that she had a ton of work to do on her next novel. He was clearly disappointed, but he couldn’t very well confront her with the kid
s watching.

  At some point, she knew, they would have to have it out. But not yet. She couldn’t do it yet.

  Between the emotional upheaval over Dave and her trepidation about the upcoming trial, she slept badly all week. Thursday night was the worst – she slept only in fits and starts, and finally gave up when the sky began to lighten. As she was up so early, she decided to catch an earlier train to Chicago and kill time at a tea house near Andy’s office in the Loop.

  She picked up a copy of the Tribune with her tea and scone, but lost her appetite when she saw the front page with a big article about Lance’s trial splashed across it. The Trib’s team of reporters had ferreted out most of the details of the scam he had run right under her nose. The report included quotes from some of his victims, who talked about how Lance had cheated them out of their life savings. He had hoodwinked so many people, including her. Although she doubted his victims would consider her a kindred spirit.

  The article also said that due to the highly technical nature of the fraud that Lance had perpetrated on his victims, the trial might last into August.

  That was the first thing she asked Andy when she saw him. “Is this true?” she asked, practically shoving the paper at him. “Is the trial liable to take all summer?”

  “I’ve already seen it,” he said, handing the paper back to her. “And yes, that’s what we’re hearing.”

  “So when will I be called to testify?”

  “We don’t know,” Andy conceded. “I’ve got a call in to the staff at the S.E.C. to find out, but so far they haven’t returned my call.”

  “And I don’t suppose Lance’s lawyer is talking, either,” she said.

  “He’s been a little more forthcoming. But a lot of it hinges on how long the government takes to present its case. It’s possible you may have to testify on two separate days.”

  “Terrific,” she said. “I was really hoping to be able to put all this behind me. I almost feel as if I’m still married to Lance, the way my name keeps coming up tied to his.” She flicked the newspaper with one finger. “And I feel like my hands are tied financially, too.”

  “I understand,” Andy said, as an attractive Hispanic woman entered the room. “Ah, Gabby, you’re just in time. Julia, this is my associate Gabriela Reyes. She’ll be assisting us with the prep.”

  Gabby Reyes took Julia’s hand with a wide smile. “It’s an honor to meet you. I loved your novel.”

  “Thank you,” Julia said, feeling inordinately pleased.

  “I meant to congratulate you on it,” Andy said. “Thanks for reminding me, Gabby. I hear it’s selling quite well.”

  “Thank you,” she said again. “Yes, it is. I’ve been very lucky.”

  “And I understand some of the characters in your book bear a resemblance to some of the characters in this case,” he said.

  Julia looked back and forth between the attorneys. “I might have used people I know as a springboard for my imagination,” she said slowly. “But my book is a work of fiction. I didn’t write it to tell my side of the story, or anything like that.”

  “Of course not,” Andy said. “I’m not suggesting you did. But I anticipate that the government will ask you a number of questions about it. So I’d like to spend some time today exploring that possible line of questioning, if it’s okay with you.”

  “Sure,” said Julia. “Of course.”

  The next two hours were among the most uncomfortable of Julia’s life – right up there with the night she and Lance had traded barbs about their respective affairs. Gabby had outlined every scene in her novel that bore even a passing resemblance to her marriage, and Andy questioned her relentlessly about what she was thinking when she wrote each one.

  “I wasn’t necessarily thinking,” she told him, over and over.

  Finally he said, “I’m not trying to be mean or difficult, Julia.”

  “I realize that,” she said.

  “So you need to work with me,” he went on. “The prosecutor is going to want to know your thought process when you chose to portray this scene in this particular way. And he’s going to ask you questions that are a lot tougher than the ones I’m asking you right now.”

  She threw up her hands. “I don’t know how to answer the questions you’re asking me,” she said. “So much of what I do when I’m writing is subconscious.” She stared off into space for a moment, searching for an analogy. “Do either of you run?”

  “I’m a runner,” Gabby said, looking up from her notes. “I finished a half marathon for the first time ever last fall.”

  Julia smiled at her. “Congratulations. That’s great,” she said. “That’s perfect, in fact. So you’ve experienced a runner’s high.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Gabby said. Her whole face lit up. “I love it when that happens. It’s the best thing ever.” She looked at Andy and explained, “It’s when you’re in the zone. When everything’s clicking and you feel like you can run for miles. Everything’s effortless – your form, your stride, everything. You don’t have to…” – she looked at Julia before faltering to a stop – “think about anything.”

  Julia nodded as she finished. “That’s exactly it. When I’m writing and the work is going well, I get into the zone. The story comes to me effortlessly – like I’m just the pipeline for a narrative that’s coming from somewhere else, filtering through me, and finding its way out the tips of my fingers onto the page. Or, well, the computer screen.” She smiled. “I do some plotting, but the scenes take shape based on what comes out of this mysterious fount in my head. The process is subconscious.

  “Now, I get that you’re seeing certain things in my book that seem to correspond to certain points in the narrative you’ve come up with – or the one the government has come up with – to explain how Lance did what he did. But I didn’t deliberately pattern my story after my own life. Anything in my narrative that reminds you of Lance’s scam is purely coincidental.” She sat back, folding her hands before her on the table.

  As she spoke, Andy had sprawled back in his chair, regarding her narrowly. Now he straightened and said, “All right.” He picked up his pen and tapped it several times on the legal pad before him on the table. “Let’s try it this way. You keep referring to ‘my narrative’ and ‘the government’s narrative.’ Why don’t you explain to me your narrative about what Lance did? And then we can go from there.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t really know how Lance did what he did,” she said. “The charges against him were news to me. Everything I know, I’ve learned from the news.”

  Andy shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I want to know what you knew.”

  “I….”

  “When did you begin to notice that things didn’t add up?”

  She thought back. “It was about seven years ago,” she said slowly. “We had bought the house in Evanston a few years before, and suddenly it wasn’t grand enough for Lance. It’s a five-bedroom house,” she explained. “Huge eat-in kitchen, formal dining room, sunroom, and a big backyard.”

  “Just for the two of you?” Gabby asked.

  “Yeah,” Julia said. “Lance didn’t want children. His own childhood wasn’t particularly happy, and he didn’t feel qualified to parent anyone else.”

  “Did you want kids?” Gabby asked.

  Julia looked at her folded hands. “I suppose I did,” she admitted, and looked up. “But I wasn’t like some women who feel like they need to bear a child in order to feel complete, or whatever. I was okay with whatever Lance wanted.” At Gabby’s look of disbelief, she said, “I’m sure that sounds kind of crazy. Look. When I met Lance, I had just lost my parents in a plane crash.”

  “I’m sorry,” the lawyers each murmured.

  She barely paused to acknowledge their sympathy. “I was a freshman in college. I was floundering, to be honest. And he just seemed to…shine. Has either of you ever met him?”

  “I have,” Andy said. “He’s quite a charismatic fellow.”<
br />
  “Exactly,” said Julia. “He’s got this aura about him.” Her hands described a globe in the air before her. “It’s more than just a salesman’s confidence. It’s like he’s an irresistible flame. And I was the moth.” Her mouth quirked up on one side. “Or if you’d rather get poetic about it, he was the light in my darkest hour.” She shook her head. “He loved it. He loved the fact that I was attracted to him. And I loved the fact that he lit up my life. So anything Lance wanted, he got. He didn’t want kids, so we didn’t have any. He didn’t want it to look like his wife needed to work in order to support his lifestyle, so I stayed home. He wanted to remodel our new house, so we did. He wanted the European vacations and the flashy cars and the Gold Coast condo, so we had all that stuff.” She shrugged. “I had no idea where the money was coming from. He handled all of it.”

  “Did he ever tell you about his famous clients?” Andy asked. “Any stories about well-known people or particularly difficult clients?”

  “Occasionally,” she said. “I knew he was managing investments for a couple of the Bears. There was some rock star he used to complain about. But I was under the impression that they were all clients of the legal side of the business. I had no inkling that he was running some supposedly amazing investment opportunity on the side.”

  “In retrospect,” Andy asked, “when it all came down, did everything start to make sense to you?”

  Julia shrugged. “Sure. But hindsight is always 20-20.”

  “What did you do instead of working?” Gabby asked.

  “Ran the household,” she said. “Worked out at the gym. Party planning – we entertained a fair amount. And I’m embarrassed to admit how much time I spent shopping. Toward the end, I was taking writing classes at StoryStudio.” She cut a sidelong look at them both. “And I was seeing someone.”

  Neither attorney reacted to her admission. “Did Lance know him?” was all Andy said.

  “No. I met him in a writing workshop.”

  “And Lance was also seeing someone.”

  “Several someones, actually. One after the other, for most of our marriage.” Her lip curled at the memory. “That’s why he wanted the condo. He told me when he bought it that it was to give his clients a place to stay when they were in town, but he admitted later that he’d wanted to set his girlfriends up in style.”