by Greta Milán
The next photo depicted a young man standing in a forest or a park. It must have been winter, as the trees in the background were bare and looked dead in the stark light. The man was looking toward the heavens, with a smile on his face, as he ran his hand through his hair. Bastian had somehow succeeded in making him look like an angel. His skin looked matte and fair, the contours of his face regular, his hands strong but delicate. Unblemished.
She frowned and looked at Bastian. His expression betrayed nothing.
She looked at the portrait of the young man again and realized that these photographs were not just pretty pictures. They reflected everything he yearned for. This revelation was confirmed with the next photo, which featured a group of young people, probably students, sitting in a street café. Their expressions were lighthearted and carefree, emotions that Bastian had probably never experienced himself.
The next print depicted a woman leaning against a man’s back. Only the back of his head and his shoulders were visible, which emphasized the expression on her face. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were curved in a pronounced smile; she had raised a hand to protect herself from the wind blowing through her hair. It looked like this photo had been taken on a waterfront somewhere; in the background, Julie made out the blurred lines of a promenade railing and one or two human figures. The contrast between the stormy atmosphere and the warmth of the lovers was almost palpable.
“Where was this picture taken?”
“In the South of France, on the Atlantic coast.”
She looked at him, hoping he would give her more details. He began to tell her of the storm that had arisen that day. Eventually, he overcame his initial reticence and told her all about his trip.
When he had finished, she leafed through more pictures, asking when and where he’d taken them, anything that would enable her to find out more about him.
There were more photos of people, all of them attractive—not in the classic sense, as prescribed by whatever was considered fashionable, but people who glowed from within. Julie was totally captivated by his pictures and was almost disappointed when she came to the bottom of the pile.
She laid aside the penultimate photo and found herself looking directly into her own face. For a moment, she stared at it blankly. It was a picture he had taken of her at Isabelle’s opening. Once she had recovered from the shock, she examined her expression critically. Like all the other subjects, she looked relaxed and happy; none of the frustration she felt at the time was visible.
“Now you’re going to think I’m crazy,” sighed Bastian.
“Why is there a picture of me here?”
He gave her a tender smile. “You’ve known that for a long time.”
She did not dare to broach the subject of how these photos reflected what he yearned for; she thought that would be presumptuous, especially as she was still not sure of her theory.
“Because I look happy?” she asked doubtfully.
Bastian frowned. “Weren’t you?”
She snorted. “Of course not.” She turned so that she was facing him and pouted. “You had just given me the brush-off.”
“I was a touch rude, that’s true. You wouldn’t believe how much I’d like to take back the way I behaved that night.”
Julie grinned. “I forgive you.”
How could she not? After all, this portrait was in his treasure chest. Perhaps, she told herself, this was even better than an overt declaration of love.
CHAPTER 28
Bastian squeezed Julie’s hand in encouragement as they walked into her parents’ house together. She was tense as usual, but today looked to be especially challenging, which was why he had come with her.
“Bastian, lovely to see you again.” The lie passed effortlessly over her lips as Louisa gave him a smug smile. She had the same haughty air as when he first met her; it was obviously a permanent fixture. She turned to her daughter. “Hello, Julietta.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Julie and Bastian followed Louisa into a small parlor. The grandiose decor reminded Bastian of Versailles. One of the two sofas was already occupied by Jo, Maximilian, and Luke. Julie’s father was sitting on the one opposite, smiling benevolently.
“So there you are,” her father said, standing up to greet them. Luke stormed past him and hugged Julie while Bastian shook Joseph’s hand.
The sisters embraced affectionately. To Bastian’s dismay, Jo hugged him warmly as well. Julie sat down next to her father and pulled Bastian down beside her.
Louisa took her place on the only single chair and looked at them like a queen surveying her subjects. “Help yourselves,” she ordered, waving a hand over the selection of cakes set out with the coffee.
Luke, who was sitting between his parents, grabbed a chocolate cookie and shuffled back into the crook of the sofa so that his little feet were only just swinging over the front edge.
“We do have plates, Joanna,” remarked Louisa sharply, and she bent forward to pass her one with a napkin. Jo obediently passed the plate to Luke, although it was somewhat superfluous since the boy had already polished off his cookie.
Maximilian smiled sympathetically at his wife before turning to Joseph. “How are things progressing with the leisure pool?”
“We’re right on schedule,” replied Joseph.
“Vincent has been an outstanding project manager,” interjected Louisa, giving her younger daughter a look that spoke volumes. “He’s so talented.”
Bastian swallowed down his anger. He was here to support Julie, not to be unsettled by this woman.
Julie appeared to agree with him, as she laid her hand gently on his thigh. He rested his own hand possessively on hers, ignoring her mother’s obvious disapproval of his gloves.
“I have some news,” began Julie in a shaky voice. All eyes were suddenly upon her.
“What kind of news?” asked Louisa tonelessly. She clearly feared the worst.
“I intend to start studying medicine in the fall,” she announced.
Maximilian grinned. “Congratulations.”
Luke cried out, “Dr. Julie!”
Jo said, “That’s wonderful!”
Joseph relaxed visibly.
Louisa pursed her lips. “Are you serious?”
“Totally serious,” replied Julie. “I received the admission letter last week.”
Bastian could see that Louisa was struggling to maintain her composure. Their eyes met briefly, and in that moment, his suspicions were confirmed. Like him, she was an expert at hiding her feelings, but he could see quite clearly all the love, concern, and helplessness Louisa felt where her daughter was concerned.
She turned abruptly to Julie. “We’ll discuss this further at a more appropriate time, Julietta,” she announced stiffly.
“That won’t be necessary.” She sounded cheerful and relieved. Only her little finger, hidden beneath his hand and boring into his thigh, betrayed Julie’s agitation. “My mind’s made up,” she said calmly. “I’ve chosen my path, and this time, I’m going to see it through to the end.”
Louisa set her coffee cup down with a clatter. “It’s only another mad phase she’s going through,” she snorted, giving Bastian a withering look. “Have you put her up to it?”
“Julie’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions,” he shot back undeterred, giving Julie a warm smile. “Frankly, I’m delighted about her plans.”
“Are you also ready to bear the expense?” snapped Louisa. “Out of what you earn?”
“I would be if your daughter would let me.” They had never discussed it, but he assumed his response was in Julie’s best interests.
Julie set her chin defiantly. “I don’t need financial support from Bastian or from you. I’ve already taken all the necessary steps.”
“How do you intend to pay for it, Julietta?” asked her father
with a hint of concern in his voice. “That kind of degree costs money.”
“I know. That’s why I intend to continue working at the café one or two evenings during the week and on weekends. I’ve already talked it over with my boss. I’ve also built up some savings over the last few months, and I’ve applied for a student loan that I’m sure will be approved.”
“Julietta, there’s no need for you to go into debt or for you to work to pay for your studies,” said her father kindly. “We’d be happy to support you.”
“Provided you decide to do something sensible,” remarked Louisa.
“Sensible for whom?” asked Julie irritably.
Louisa sighed. “For you, of course. It would be sensible, for example, if you continued with your law degree and stayed on track instead of squandering your time on work that’s not worthy of you.” With her eyes, she indicated to her daughter that this also included Bastian. It wasn’t very subtle, but also not entirely unjustified.
The corners of Bastian’s mouth twitched in amusement. Honestly, this woman was simply unbelievable.
“I’m going to study medicine. That means a lot of hard work, I know. And that’s why I need your moral support.”
Louisa folded her arms regally. Surrounded by her family, it would be difficult for her to resist her daughter’s appeal.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Jo said abruptly. “Medicine suits you. You always could stand the sight of blood without fainting.”
“And it’s a secure career,” said Maximilian, lending his support. “Good doctors will always be in demand.”
This argument finally took the wind out of Louisa’s sails. As Maximilian and Joseph began discussing the career prospects in medicine, Bastian could feel Julie gradually relaxing. She had not understated the matter; it was perfectly clear that her family was entirely ruled by traditional notions of success.
Jo was curious what specialty Julie intended to pursue. When Julie told her that she had not yet made her final decision, a scornful snort came from Louisa’s direction, but no one was paying any attention to her by then.
Although it seemed that Julie had won this battle, she was quiet on the way home. Wanting to savor the last of the day’s sunshine, they had decided to walk back to her apartment. Bastian couldn’t get away from her parents’ house fast enough, but he enjoyed walking with her hand in hand, making the most of the mild September evening.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked gently.
“That woman drives me up the wall,” muttered Julie. “She’s never satisfied with anything.”
“She’s only concerned about you.”
“Even you’re defending her bad behavior. I honestly don’t understand you.” She heaved a sigh of frustration.
“She may have a strange way of showing it, but she clearly loves you,” replied Bastian. He had already thought so, but after observing the way Louisa had looked at her daughter when she didn’t realize he was watching, he was certain it was true.
“How do you know?” asked Julie sharply. “Is your mother like that too?”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at him expectantly.
“We’re not talking about my mother,” he said coolly.
A spark of anger flashed in her eyes. “Oh, no?” she snapped. “So tell me, what are your parents like? Do you resemble your mother or your father? Where did you grow up? What schools did you go to?”
As she bombarded him with questions, he withdrew into himself instinctively. She appeared to be so incensed that she didn’t seem to notice his distress.
“You don’t want to talk about your past?” she asked sweetly. “Fine, so how about something else? The future perhaps? Or is that also too heavy for you?”
“Stop it,” he yelled.
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she stared at him in dismay.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
He shook his head brusquely. She had nothing to apologize for. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as he could.
CHAPTER 29
Two weeks after Julie’s classes began, she stumbled into the bathroom when she got home and threw up violently. She staggered back to the sofa and closed her eyes, succumbing to her exhaustion.
It was Friday evening, a night she usually reserved exclusively for Bastian, but Felix had called him on the spur of the moment and invited him over. She had asked Isabelle to come over in the interim. She seriously considered canceling, but she hadn’t seen Isabelle since she’d started school, and she missed her.
She really shouldn’t have had that burrito at the university cafeteria—as a rule, she wasn’t particularly fond of Mexican food, but it had looked so appetizing. In hindsight, she had no idea what had compelled her to devour it so ravenously. God only knew how many hours it had been sitting on the counter, waiting for a victim.
She got up slowly to make a cup of calming tea, which she sipped gently until Isabelle arrived.
“I love the fall,” she announced as she strode energetically into Julie’s living room. Green locks of her latest experimental hairstyle peeped out from beneath her garish hat. Under her coat, she wore an orange knee-length dress with green buttons over opaque red tights. “So much color everywhere,” she cried out, holding out to Julie a mottled maple leaf that perfectly matched her outfit.
“Thank you.” Julie took it without enthusiasm and sank back on the sofa.
Isabelle looked intently down at her.
“You look dreadful,” she remarked.
Julie knew she must look pretty wiped out. She had bound her hair up in a loose knot and was wearing loose black sweatpants, a baggy cotton shirt, and her favorite old green cardigan to stave off the shaking that had overtaken her.
“A damned burrito,” she muttered. “I’ve gone and gotten another stomachache.”
“Since when do you eat Mexican?”
Julie ran a hand over her belly. “Or some kind of gastroenteritis.”
“I’ve heard there’s something going around, but frankly, you don’t look like someone with gastroenteritis.” She flopped down on the sofa next to Julie. Julie’s stomach gurgled in response.
Isabelle raised her index finger and tapped Julie on the chest.
“Ouch,” complained Julie, rubbing where it hurt.
“Your boobs have grown.”
“Nonsense.” Julie looked down anxiously. Her breasts were the same size they’d always been.
“If I know about anything, it’s the female body,” said Isabelle smugly. “I’d bet my sexy ass that it’s not a stomachache that’s troubling you.”
“What is it then?” replied Julie impatiently.
“I know you always look rosy, and your hormones have been all over the place for weeks, but hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Bastian might not be the only reason for that?”
“I’ve been under a lot of stress,” Julie insisted.
Isabelle grinned. “That’s not all, you little minx.”
Julie knew what her friend was hinting at. But she was wrong. It was impossible. She’d been on the pill for years and taken meticulous care to take them at the correct intervals.
Although she’d naturally noticed her body’s recent changes, for the sake of her own peace of mind, she had successfully ascribed them all to stress. But she could no longer deny it. Despite her nausea and agitation, she forced herself to think it through logically. When had she last had her period? When would the first symptoms normally occur? How long was she overdue?
“It’s got to be food poisoning,” she whispered. It was the only rational explanation.
“Uh-huh,” said Isabelle, getting up from the sofa.
“Where are you going?”
“Where
do you think? To the nearest pharmacy, of course.”
Julie was too shocked to reply. She stared vacantly into space as the reality gradually penetrated her consciousness.
A baby.
Good God.
Now of all times.
Just when she had finally worked out what she wanted to do for a living. She was determined to see it through, but she could no longer deny the possibility. And she had always wanted to get married before starting a family, or at least live with the father beforehand. Neither of those scenarios looked at all likely now.
On the other hand, was there ever a perfect moment? Julie’s hand was still resting on her belly. Her new knowledge made the gesture seem suddenly strange. Could there really be a child in there? A jumble of disparate emotions swirled chaotically inside her, a feeling of warmth, followed by fear and insecurity, and then pure joy.
A child meant so much responsibility. So many sacrifices. So much love.
Was she ready for it all?
She smiled.
Spot jumped up onto the sofa and crawled onto her lap without Julie really noticing. She gently stroked her cat’s soft fur and listened to her soothing purr.
Her telephone jerked her out of her trance.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetie, it’s me,” said Bastian softly.
“Hey,” she replied dreamily.
“I’m just on my way to Felix’s. I doubt I’ll be there long. Shall I grab a pizza for us afterward?”
“Pizza?” asked Julie as if she’d never heard the word before.
“You know, the Italian specialty with a dough base, tomatoes, cheese, and toppings,” he laughed. “You should try it.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“OK.”
“Hang on, maybe I will have a Hawaiian,” she said abruptly. “With ham and pineapple. A large one.” She suddenly grew animated. “Add some mushrooms and salami and onion and pepperoni and extra cheese.”