Vow to Cherish

by Deborah Raney

  “You still have the memories, John,” she said quietly.

  He paused, thinking about her comment. “I do. We made some good memories. But I have to work so hard to conjure them up, it sometimes doesn’t seem worth it. The truth is, Ellen is a totally different person now. I feel as though my Ellen has been dead for years.”

  “Oh, John.” Julia shook her head slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease. It has totally robbed Ellen of her personality. There’s nothing left of the old Ellen—the one I loved.” His eyes were unfocused, staring into the face of the past. He tried to remember now, and the remembering was easier because Julia was there to share it.

  “Ellen was funny and smart and strong. She loved to ‘debate,’ she called it—” he chuckled as he suddenly saw Ellen’s furrowed brow, and the expression she always wore during a good argument “—but she never held a grudge.”

  His thoughts carried him to the past. “Ellen was such a good mother. We lost a baby at birth—our first—and I think Ellen treasured the other three that much more because of it. It makes me angry that she’ll never be able to see what our kids have become. We had so many plans for these years. We wanted to travel. She always wanted to go to Europe….” His voice trailed off again, remembering.

  Julia didn’t try to fill the silence.

  “I’m grateful this happened after the kids were grown and living away from home,” John said. “It would have been far worse to deal with it while they were still home. But, oh, I’d give anything if Ellen could see how happy Jana is…how much Brant likes his job…how excited Kyle is about student teaching. I think you probably understand more than anyone how the joy diminishes when you can no longer share these things with the one you love—the one with whom you gave life to your children.”

  “I do understand that, John. I would never tell my children this, but when Martin died, it was as though their lives became a little less, somehow. It’s hard to explain, but their father was so much a part of them, and even though I see him in both of the boys, it’s not the same now that he is gone. It’s like he was the standard for comparison, and now there is no standard. Does that make sense?”

  “I think so.”

  “Martin was such a strong person. He wasn’t perfect, and I’ve tried to be careful not to put him on a pedestal like so many widows do. But he had a…a presence about him—a strength. The boys don’t have it, at least not yet. I think sometimes I fault them for that. Maybe it would have been easier if we’d had girls. Maybe I wouldn’t have expected so much from Martin’s daughters.”

  “And maybe you would have expected more. One thing I’ve learned, Julia, is that it doesn’t pay to play the ‘if only’ game. It’s hard enough to get through what is, without worrying about what might have been.”

  “I know you’re right. But that’s something I’ve always found difficult. I’m too analytical, I guess. And I do play the ‘if only’ game. Oh, I lay awake those first nights torturing myself. If only I’d insisted we get new tires on the car. If only I hadn’t told him that morning to hurry home…” She paused, obviously lost in her memories of the past.

  John waited for her to come back from her reverie.

  “I was so lonely—so terribly lonely. You know, when Martin went away on a business trip—even a long one—I often thought, ‘this isn’t so bad…I think I could survive as a widow.’ But I had no idea…no idea of the loneliness, the emptiness you feel when someone you love is gone forever from your life.”

  She looked at John, her brows arched, as though a revelation had struck her. “That’s how it is with Ellen, isn’t it? She’s…she’s gone forever from your life.”

  He set his jaw and nodded.

  They barely touched their food, taking sustenance in the conversation instead. The waitress cleared their dishes away, and John paid the check. It was dark when they got in the car, and as they drove back to his house, talking of less serious things, John watched Julia’s expressions in the ebb and flow of the yellow light cast by the streetlamps they passed. With fascination, he saw her hands echo the words she spoke. He remembered now that it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her that day they’d first met in his office.

  Back at his house, Julia called the Baylors again. She relayed to John that Sam was back, and he heard her make arrangements to meet him at their house.

  When they pulled into Julia’s driveway ten minutes later, Sam wasn’t there yet, so they sat in the car and continued their conversation.

  Julia began to talk again about the dreadful day Martin had been killed. Her voice was detached, as though she were telling someone else’s story. John could see by the faraway look in her eyes that she was reliving the day in her mind—going to school to get the boys…the horror of telling her sons that their father was dead.

  “That was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I went to Andy’s class first. I’m not sure why. Isn’t that strange? I don’t remember why I went there first.” Her voice rose with emotion and questioning, and she looked up at him.

  Then her eyes glazed over again. “I remember Andy came bounding out of the classroom with a huge smile on his face—like I’d come to bring him a wonderful surprise or something. I—I don’t remember what I said, but I didn’t want to give him the news inside the school, so I made him come outside with me. Then he was sure I had a surprise for him. I must have been calm because he…he was babbling on trying to guess the surprise. He thought we had a new car. He guessed that we were going to visit his grandparents. He guessed a pony! A pony! I—I couldn’t make myself tell him to stop the guessing. And then…then I had to tell him his daddy was gone forever. I’ve never felt like such a traitor. I will never forget the look in his eyes….” Suddenly, her voice broke. She put her fist to her mouth, but the sobs came anyway. She wept bitterly, unable to speak.

  John was overcome with compassion for her. He felt the well of tears behind his eyelids, hot and threatening to spill. Spontaneously, he leaned across the seat and took Julia in his arms. Tenderly at first, then with more insistence. Almost instinctively he took her face in his hands, felt the smoothness of her damp skin against his palms. Before she could wrestle free, he realized what was happening and backed away in horror at his own unbridled emotions.

  “Oh, Julia. I am so sorry. Please, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I had no right—”

  But she was already out of the car running for the front porch. He got out of the car and ran after her. Halfway up the steps he grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him.

  He looked straight into her eyes and spoke firmly. “Julia, I was wrong. I promise you that will never happen again.”

  She was trembling. “It wasn’t just you, John. I’m guilty, too. And you’re right, it won’t happen again.”

  They heard a car approaching, and John dropped his hands from her shoulders. The car slowed and turned into the driveway behind John’s car. Sam got out and waved as the Baylors backed out of the drive. Then he ran up onto the porch.

  “Hi, Sam,” Julia said with obviously feigned cheeriness. “You know Mr. Brighton, the superintendent of schools? John, this is Sam.”

  “Sure, I remember Sam.” John extended his hand.

  Sam shook it, a questioning look on his face.

  “I rescued your mom in the parking lot at Parkside. Seems she locked every key she owns in the car.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Brian’s mom said.” Sam cocked his head, as though not quite sure he bought John’s explanation. “Well, thanks a lot for bringing Mom home. I’ve got my keys.” He waved them in the air as proof.

  John turned to Julia. “Can I give you a ride back to your car?”

  “No, thanks. You’ve done more than enough.” She winced.

  John pretended not to catch the double meaning of her words, but he cringed inside, as he waved off her thanks. “You’re sure. How will you get to work in the morning?”

 
“I can catch a ride with a coworker. She just lives a couple blocks up the road.” She motioned toward the street. “I do appreciate everything, John. Thank you. We’ll be fine now.” She dismissed him.

  “Well, okay,” he said, drawing out his words, reluctant to leave. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

  Julia

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Julia watched John pull out of the driveway while Sam unlocked the front door.

  “How was your day, Sam? Did you have a good time at the Baylor’s?” She forced her voice to steady as she followed him through the living room to the kitchen.

  She heard the teenage tenor of Sam’s voice as he answered, but when she caught him staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face, she realized she had not heard one word of his response.

  “I…I’m sorry, buddy. What did you say?”

  Sam tipped his head to one side, his bangs falling across his forehead. “Are you okay, Mom?”

  She felt her cheeks burn and was grateful she hadn’t turned the light on in the kitchen yet. “Sure. I’m fine. You…you want something to eat before you go to bed?”

  He shook his head, his bangs flopping. “Nah. We had pizza. You sure you’re all right?”

  She reached up to brush the hair out of his face. “We need to get you in for a haircut. How long has it been? I’ll call for an appointment tomorrow.”

  But Sam wouldn’t let her change the subject. “How come Mr. Brighton brought you home?” There was a note of suspicion in his tone.

  “Didn’t we tell you? I locked my keys in the car.”

  “At work? What was he doing there?”

  She turned her back to him and ran hot water over the dishrag. “He was visiting his—He has a family member there. He was visiting.” She wrung out the steaming rag and scrubbed at a stubborn, invisible stain on the countertop.

  “Oh. Well, you could have called me, you know.”

  “I tried. Nobody was home.”

  He shrugged. “Oh, sorry. I forgot we went to the park.”

  She looked pointedly at the clock. You’ve got school tomorrow. You’d better get to bed. She made excuses and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

  She rested her hands on the counter on either side of the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. How had she let that happen with John? One minute they were talking and the next she’d suddenly found herself in the warm circle of his arms. A knot settled in the pit of her stomach. What was wrong with her? How could she have let that happen?

  And Sam was no dummy. He’d obviously known something was amiss. Her stomach roiled, and for a minute she thought she might be sick.

  The wave of nausea passed, but the tears came on the next crest. Julia turned on the sink faucet full force to mask her cries. Then she slumped to the floor in front of the bathtub and sobbed till her ribs ached.

  John

  Chapter Thirty

  John drove home from Julia’s house in a daze. He tried to make sense of all that had happened, but was more confused than ever.

  One thing he knew for certain: he did not want to have to dread running into Julia the way he had after their confrontation in the library.

  When he felt sure that Sam would be asleep, he dialed her number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Julia. Hi, it’s John.”

  “Yes?” Her tone was understandably frosty.

  “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay between us. Are you all right?”

  “I think so. I’m…I’m still trying to sort things out.”

  “Me, too. But I don’t want you to worry. What happened tonight will never happen again. Okay?”

  “I trust you. We just got caught up in the emotion of the moment, that’s all. And I was as much to blame as you, John. I’m sorry. Please don’t feel guilty.”

  “Well, it’s a little late for that. I do feel very guilty. But it’s over now. Let’s go on from here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did you make arrangements for your car?”

  “It’s all taken care of, John.” There was a definite chill in her tone.

  “Oh. Good.”

  Silence.

  “Julia, would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Well, how about going jogging with me tomorrow night? Would you feel comfortable with that?”

  There was such a long silence that John wondered if they’d been disconnected. He held out an excuse. “We’re both going to be running anyway.”

  He heard her sigh on the other end of the line.

  “Julia?”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you at the park. What time?”

  “Would seven-thirty be all right?”

  “Okay. We should be done with supper by then. I’ll see you then.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Good night, John.”

  Running in the park became their habit. There they felt safe from their own emotions, and it didn’t seem improper for them to be seen together in a public place. As wonderful as it was, Calypso was still a small town. John was well aware that gossip spread faster than wildfire here, and the last thing he wanted was rumor of a scandal. They were careful to come and go alone, and to keep their distance physically.

  For a while John was elated with the headiness of their blossoming friendship. There were moments, though, when guilt bore down on him, like when he realized that his visits to Ellen were becoming more brief and less personal. He started forcing himself to stay longer each evening, and to endure Ellen’s angry outbursts more stoically than before.

  He rationalized that Julia’s friendship fortified him for the agony he faced with Ellen. The promise of Julia’s support and encouragement did help him bear the visits each evening. Knowing that in a few minutes he could pour out his anguish to Julia—or simply engage in some lighthearted chitchat—he found himself being more gentle and compassionate with Ellen.

  He had never been in better physical shape in his life. They were running three or four miles several times a week, and only the foulest weather kept them from meeting at the park those evenings at seven-thirty. Often their cooldown time stretched into an hour of walking and talking.

  Occasionally Julia expressed concern that she was spending too much time away from the boys. Still she was there each evening, waiting for him.

  One night, though, she told him—rather evasively, he thought—that she wouldn’t be there the next evening, a Friday night.

  “Oh? Why, you have a date?” John teased her in the intimate repartee they’d grown comfortable with.

  But she was serious. “Yes, John. I do.”

  He literally stopped in his tracks. He stood there, breathing hard, with his hands on his waist. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I am.” She kept running, and he had to hurry to catch up.

  “May I ask with whom?”

  “His name is Bill Morland. He works at Parkside.”

  “Oh.” John didn’t know what else to say. He knew Bill Morland. He was the assistant administrator of Parkside. He was good-looking, divorced and, quite honestly, John couldn’t stand the man.

  They jogged along in silence for almost a mile.

  Finally Julia turned to him. “Why so quiet?”

  “No reason.”

  She started in on him like a house afire. “John, you and I are just friends, remember? I would like to get married again someday. I’m finding that a little difficult to work toward when I haven’t had one date since Martin died.” Her tone had turned angry and sarcastic.

  “Well, you could do a lot better than Bill Morland.” His anger matched hers.

  “Oh, give me a break! Who did you have in mind, Your Majesty?”

  John threw up his hands. “Hey, it’s none of my business. You go out with whoever you like.” He pulled ahead of her then and sprinted back to his car.

  When he reached the car he turn
ed to see Julia gaping after him. He reached in through the open window of his car and pulled out a towel. He stood there swabbing the sweat from his face and neck, trying to cool off in more ways than one. Unsuccessful, he threw the towel to the floor of the car. He got in, revved the engine and screeched out of the parking lot. He knew he was acting like an immature, impetuous teenager, but he felt powerless to stop himself.

  At home he got into the shower and let the force of the hot water soothe his anger. He was being ridiculous. He had no claim to Julia whatsoever. His little tantrum in the park had betrayed his true feelings for her, both to himself and to Julia. He owed her an apology.

  He tried to call her all evening long, but there was no answer. At eleven o’clock he finally gave up and went to bed. But sleep eluded him and he lay awake wrestling with his conscience. When the sun streamed through his window hours later, he knew only two things: He did not want to lose Julia. And he could not have her.

  Two weeks passed and Julia didn’t show up at the park. John went jogging every evening, hoping against hope she would be there, but deeply disappointed when she wasn’t.

  One night almost three weeks after their fight, he got out of his car, and broke into a run as usual.

  She materialized at his side.

  “Well, look who’s here,” he said as casually as he could muster, trying not to give away the wild pounding of his heart.

  “Hi.”

  “Julia, I’m sorry.”

  “Hey. Forget it. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. Let’s just forget it and pick up where we left off.”