Nina putting Dave in danger was one thing. He was an adult; he understood the risks involved in being with her. But endangering his children was quite another.
And seeing Nina with Julia over the past two days had really opened his eyes. Especially today. Julia had taken charge and had tried to protect them all. Julia cared. While Nina had sat immobile, unable even to care for herself.
This was the last straw. He didn’t care how sick she was. On Monday, he was going to call a lawyer and begin the process of filing for a divorce.
He looked up and saw Randi rushing toward him, with Julia close behind. He stood up and held out his arms to them both.
“I’ll tell you what, David Turner,” Julia murmured. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Randi snickered, and in a moment, all three of them were laughing. He let them go and dropped back into his chair, still smiling.
“Have you heard anything?” Julia asked, taking a seat on the other side of Randi.
At the same moment, an E.R. nurse came to the waiting room door. “Mr. Turner?”
“Here,” Dave said, popping up out of his chair again.
The nurse beckoned to him. “You can come on back.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” he told Julia.
“Dad, I’m hungry,” Randi said. “Can we get something to eat?”
Dave hesitated. On one hand, they had all missed lunch. On the other, he yearned to keep both of his children close.
“I’ll take her to the cafeteria,” Julia said. “Come and find us, once you know what’s going on.”
Dave sagged. He could trust Julia. “Okay,” he said, and followed the nurse to his son.
Ritchie looked remarkably good for having spent a couple of hours inside a sand dune. Dave hugged him hard. “How are you doing, buddy?”
“Okay,” Ritchie said. “But there’s a bunch of sand in my hair.” He scratched at his hairline, his forehead crinkling.
Dave ruffled his hair. “We’ll get you cleaned up later.”
Just then, the doctor walked in. He shook hands with Dave and explained that they intended to send the boy by ambulance to a hospital in Chicago. “There’s a chance your son sustained lung damage,” he said. “He’s probably fine – he seems to be breathing well – but we want to be sure, and we don’t have the equipment here to check him out.”
“Okay,” Dave said. “How soon?”
“As soon as the ambulance gets here.”
“I want to go with him.”
The doctor nodded as if it were a foregone conclusion. “Of course.”
“And what about my wife?” At the doctor’s blank look, he elaborated, “Nina Turner. She and Ritchie came in the same ambulance.”
The doctor consulted his clipboard. “I’m not sure. Let me check on that for you.” And he scooted out through the curtain.
“Where’s Mom?” Ritchie asked.
“I don’t know, buddy. The doctor’s going to find her for us.” He returned to the boy’s bedside.
“I don’t want her to come with us,” he said.
Dave took his son’s hand – the one that didn’t have an IV stuck into it – and gave it a squeeze. “Ritchie,” he asked, “what happened?”
The boy looked at his lap. “Mommy said I couldn’t ever have Julia sleep in my room. She said it wasn’t proper.” He said proper in a singsong voice, and made a face. “I told her you said it was okay, and she said you weren’t the boss. Then I said she wasn’t the boss, either. That made her really mad, and she started calling me names. So I ran away from her.” He lifted one shoulder. “I guess I stepped in a hole. I don’t remember anything after that, until the firemen pulled me out.” Ritchie looked up at his father, scowling. “I hate her, Dad. I don’t want her to be my mom any more.”
“She’ll always be your mom,” he said, because it was true.
But Ritchie shook his head. “I don’t ever want to see her again.”
If he had been waffling at all about his decision to divorce Nina, the look on Ritchie’s face would have settled it.
The doctor poked his face around the edge of the curtain and crooked a finger at Dave. “I’ll be right back,” he told Ritchie, and followed the doctor down the hall.
They paused outside an empty cubicle. The doctor turned to face him. “Your wife has been admitted to the psychiatric ward,” he said, watching him carefully. “I gather that’s not news to you.”
“It’s not the first time, no,” Dave said.
“I spoke with her admitting physician,” the E.R. doctor said. “He thinks they can stabilize her, but it may take some time. He’d like to speak with you before you leave with your son.”
“Of course.”
“Do you want to see her?” the doctor asked.
“No,” Dave said, as a wave of exhaustion hit him. “But I’ll talk to her doctor.”
~
Not long afterward, he found Julia and Randi in the cafeteria. Randi was picking at a salad. Julia pushed a sandwich toward him as he sat down. “Here. I bought it and couldn’t eat it.”
“Thanks.” He took a bite. The bread was gummy and the cheese tasted like the plastic the sandwich had been wrapped in, but he ate it anyway.
“So what’s going on?” Julia asked as he chewed.
“Ritchie’s going to be transported to a hospital in Chicago,” he said between bites. “Just for observation, the E.R. doc said. I’m going to go with him. Can you drive Randi home? I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have to go into Chicago tomorrow anyway.”
“Of course,” she said, looking at the girl. “We’ll go home and pack up, and head in tonight.”
“What about Mom?” Randi asked him.
He tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Your mom is going to be staying here for a little while.”
Randi nodded.
“Do you want to see her?” Dave asked.
“No.”
Well, that makes it unanimous. He balled up the sandwich wrapper and stood. “I need to go.”
“We should go, too, then,” Julia said, getting to her feet. “Come on, Randi. I’ll race you to the car.”
The joke fell flat, but Randi got to her feet anyway and gave her father a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her.
She nodded. Then she looked up at him with fire in her eye. “I hate her, Dad. Ritchie could have died today, and it would have been her fault.”
“I know,” he said. “Your brother told me the same thing.” He put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “This has gone on far too long.” He looked at Julia and said, “I can’t do this any more. I’m done.”
She walked around the table and put her arms around him. “Let me know if you need me,” she said.
“Always,” he replied.
~
Julia dropped her bags in Dave’s living room, grateful that the day was almost over. She turned to Randi as the girl walked past her toward the stairs. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Julia asked.
Randi paused, backpack slung over one shoulder. “No, that’s okay.”
Julia smiled, relieved. The girl had been silent for much of the trip back to Chicago. “All right, then. I think I’m going to stay up for a while. Have a cup of tea, and maybe raid the fridge. You want anything?”
Randi dropped her backpack and walked back to give her a hug. “I love you. You’re so normal.”
Julia laughed and returned the hug. “I love you, too.” She pillowed her cheek on the top of Randi’s head for a moment. “The offer still stands.”
“No. I mean, thank you, but….” Randi pulled away. “I think I just want to go to bed.”
“You may be the first kid in history to say that,” she said with a grin. “Okay. It’s been an exhausting day. I may pass out soon myself. Goodnight, Randi.”
The girl gave her a tired smile and trudged up the stairs.
Julia waited until she heard her bedroom door close. Then she went into t
he kitchen and began heating water for tea.
While she waited for the water to boil, she found herself wandering the house. The living room was homey, and clearly lived-in: the sofa and loveseat were upholstered in a faded floral print, although the throw pillows looked brand-new, and the tables and a side chair were scuffed and scratched. The kitchen, too, looked worn, although the dishes were new.
The teakettle began to whistle. She poured water over a chamomile teabag and brought the mug with her as she continued her explorations, walking through the kitchen toward the back of the house.
She flipped on a light, and found Dave. Not in the flesh; she supposed he was still at the hospital with Ritchie. But the room she was in clearly belonged to him. The desk was swamped with papers, most of them annotated in his handwriting; shelves crammed with books lined the far wall; and a recliner sat near the window, next to a good reading lamp and a small table holding a stack of yet more books.
She perused the shelves. Most of the titles were obviously for his job; historical works abounded. But two shelves held books she remembered – dog-eared novels they had traded back and forth during the long summer days at the lake. She selected one of these old friends and was about to take a seat when she spied a photo frame in the far corner of the shelf. “Oh,” she said aloud, picking it up. It was a photo of her and Dave at the beach, taken the summer her parents died. He was in his lifeguard trunks and she was in a bikini that she could never hope to wear again.
She remembered the day. Tim, home on leave, had been fiddling with a new camera he’d bought in Japan. She and Dave had been laughing over a passage in the novel she had just plucked from the shelf. By some serendipity, Tim had captured the moment when she and Dave had turned from the book to look at each other.
Mug in one hand and book and photo in the other, she settled in the recliner. There, she set up the photo on the table, put down her mug, and opened the book.
A few minutes later, the book slipped from her hands as she nodded off.
~
Her dream felt very much like a trip into the labyrinth.
She was on the beach, alone, when she heard the same thin scream that she had heard earlier in the day. Racing toward the sound, she found herself at the base of a high sand dune – higher even than Mount Baldy – with a stone tower perched precariously at the top. Angry clouds gathered as she looked frantically for a way into the tower, for she was certain Dave and his kids were inside.
Thunder rumbled as the keening went on relentlessly. “Dave!” she cried, as she started up the hill.
A face appeared at the window: Lance, leering down at her. “I’ve got you both now!” he cried, cackling at her. “I’ve got you all!”
She screamed.
The turgid air seemed to split. A massive lightning bolt shot out of the sky and struck the tower, cracking it asunder; the dune shook with the impact. Then the remains of the tower sank into the sand, leaving not a trace behind.
“Dave!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.
“Don’t worry,” said a happy voice behind her.
She turned. The storm clouds had disappeared, and a brilliant night sky overspread the lake. An impossible number of stars glimmered above, rivaling the lights from Chicago glowing in the west. At the shoreline, a girl and a boy played together, pouring water from one pitcher to another. The children looked up, giggling, and she recognized them: Randi and Ritchie. “Don’t worry,” Randi said. “Everything’s going to be fine now. See?” She pointed east, toward the rising sun, where Dave was coming toward her with his arms outstretched.
“Hey,” he said, lifting her into his arms, and she realized she was no longer dreaming.
He had carried her as far as the living room before she shook off the last of the dream. “Put me down,” she said as they reached the foot of the stairs. “I can walk.”
“Will you?” he asked, setting her on her feet on the first stair.
In answer, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.
They came together that night, as they always should have been, and slept in each other’s arms.
~
Julia awoke with the sun. She thought of slipping quietly out of bed so as not to wake Dave, but the thought fled as soon as she looked at him. His features, relaxed in sleep, were those of the carefree teenager he had once been. She cupped his cheek gently, and he opened his eyes and smiled.
“Good morning,” she said, and leaned over to kiss him. It went on rather longer than she had meant it to, but she wasn’t about to complain.
When they came up for air, he asked, “How’s Randi? I should have checked on her last night when I came in, but someone distracted me.”
“Excuse me?” she teased. “And whose fault was that? I was asleep.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. Then he sobered. “Really, though, how is she?”
“She seemed fine. Quiet, though. She didn’t say much on the way here, and then went right to bed.”
“I’ll check on her in a little while. See if she wants to come with me to see her brother.”
“I think she’d like that,” she said. “How’s Ritchie doing?”
“Good,” he said, sighing. The careworn look was back, and she regretted asking. “They need to do some tests on him, but the doc last night seemed to think he could come home today. I guess I’ll be spending my day at the hospital.” He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “I’d meant to spend it in court with you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to come at all.”
“You never expect it,” he said. “When was the last time anyone was there for you, Jule?”
“When was the last time anyone backstopped you?” she countered.
“Yeah,” he said, still twirling her hair around his finger. “Let’s make a pact that we’ll always be there for each other.”
“Okay,” she said. “But your kids come first.”
“Okay. Kids first, and then each other.”
“Deal.” She arrested his hand and kissed his knuckles. Then she sighed. “I need to get up and get ready. I’m supposed to meet Andy and Gabby for breakfast at eight.”
He glanced at the bedside clock and stifled a groan. “It’s not fair. I want to spend the whole day here with you.”
Her heart turned over in her chest. “I wish we could,” she whispered. But she rolled out of bed. Then she stood in the middle of the room. “Um.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, clearly enjoying the view. “Um?”
“My suitcase is still downstairs,” she said. “I’d meant to sleep on the couch. Not that this wasn’t a better idea.”
“I’ll bring it up.” He bounced out of bed and threw on a robe from the back of the door. Then he wrapped both of them in it, pulling her close. “Mmm,” he said, and kissed her.
“Mmm,” she agreed, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact. “But.”
“Yeah. Suitcase.” Reluctantly, he let her go, and headed downstairs.
As they both dressed, he said, “Before you go, would you give me your lawyer’s number?”
“Andy’s?” she asked, puzzled.
“No, Elaine’s.”
She froze, her comb poised above her head, and turned to stare at him.
“I meant what I said,” he told her, fastening his belt. “I’m done. I’m not doing this any more.”
Everything’s going to be fine now. Randi’s words in her dream came back to her, and she put down her comb. “I didn’t think you’d ever….”
“I didn’t, either, to be honest. But she crossed a line when she put my son in danger.” His mouth was set in a grim line.
Hope blossomed in her chest, and for once, she let it be. “I think you’re doing the right thing,” she said. “And not just because I have a vested interest in the outcome.”
~
“I need some advice,” Julia said as she joined Andy and Gabby at their table in the crowded co
ffee house.
“That’s what you’re paying us for,” said Andy, stirring sugar into his coffee. “Shoot.”
She placed her hands on the edge of the tiny table. “During our marriage,” she said, “Lance shared some things with me about his upbringing. The details would make Twitter go crazy, but they shed some light on why he did what he did. I’m wondering how much of it to bring up.”
The lawyers exchanged a glance. “I wish you’d mentioned this a couple of months ago,” Andy said.
“I’m sorry. I probably should have. But I wasn’t ready to talk about it then.”
Andy pondered the question. “How salacious is it?”
“His mother abused him as a child,” she said quietly, mindful of the public venue. “It was pretty horrific.”
“And that made him want to rob the rich?” Gabby asked. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s complicated,” Julia said, and outlined what she knew.
“Well,” Andy said, settling back, “of course, I can’t direct the questioning. But if you were asked why you thought he did what he did, or any questions that speak to his character, I think you could gloss over the basis of his hatred for his mother by simply saying they had a difficult relationship.”
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks. There’s one other thing.” And she told them about Lance’s threat.
Outraged, Andy hissed, “Why didn’t you call me? Tampering with a witness is serious business. We could have arranged some protection for you.”
“Well,” she said, “I kind of blackmailed him back. I told him I was writing a book about his background, but I wouldn’t publish it if he’d leave me alone. My question is whether I’m leaving myself open to an attack if I testify to the other things we’ve discussed.”
Andy hunched forward. “I’m going to go and have a chat with the prosecutor. If it goes the way I think it will, you will have nothing to worry about. Although,” he said, leaning back, “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about anyway. Make no mistake, Julia. Your ex-husband is going to pay for what he’s done. My gut tells me that he won’t be in any position to make good on his threat to you for a long, long time. And my gut is almost never wrong.” He slid out of his chair. “I’ll see you both in court.” He strode quickly to the door.
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