“Yes, of course, your car collided with her bike. It’s a miracle she wasn’t hurt.”
He gave an unpleasant laugh. “Correction, Mother. She was hurt twenty-five-thousand dollars’ worth.”
Anne snatched up the papers and skimmed them again.
“She signed the settlement offer,” he pointed out. “A check’s already been issued to her in the amount stated.”
Anne knew that wasn’t possible. Yet there was Julie’s signature, plain as day.
Roy focused his gaze on the kitchen wall. “I pressured her at first, believing it was best to deal with the incident quickly rather than have her come back and bite me later. She repeatedly refused, and after a while I started to trust her.
“I finally decided she wasn’t a gold digger. She had me convinced that money didn’t mean a thing to her—and now this.”
“Roy, I don’t think—”
“You’re holding the evidence in your hand,” he countered, his voice raised in anger.
Only he wasn’t really angry, Anne realized; he was hurt and disillusioned and growing more so by the minute. Oh, this was dreadful. It was as if God had broken a promise. Anne had felt so sure that Julie was the woman she’d been praying for all these years and now this…this betrayal.
“All along, Julie was holding out for more money.” He rubbed his eyes as if he was exhausted. “I forgot about the settlement when we started dating.” He expelled a shaky breath. “Then she declined to move in with me, and that was the end of our fine romance. Except that I remembered we hadn’t settled her so-called accident and I contacted her again.”
Anne didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue his story.
“She wouldn’t talk to me about it.”
Anne silently applauded; perhaps everything wasn’t lost, after all.
“The thing is, Mother, I thought she was different, that I could trust her.”
Anne reached across the table and patted his hand.
“Then she proved I can’t.”
“Roy, let’s not be hasty here. Yes, it looks bad, but let’s face it—if Julie was interested in your money, she would’ve moved in with you. Don’t make the mistake of judging her too harshly.”
“Harshly?” he snapped. “It isn’t just about the money. I went over to her place to see her, to talk to her. I hoped we could find a way to compromise…. All I wanted was for the two of us to be together.”
Anne bit her lower lip, afraid of what he’d say next.
“I told her if she didn’t want to move in with me, I’d be willing to set her up in her own apartment.”
After a moment, Anne managed to speak. “She wasn’t interested in that, either, I take it.”
“Not at all.”
Anne smiled to herself. Perhaps, just perhaps, Julie was everything she’d hoped for. Surely God wouldn’t be so cruel as to send another Aimee into Roy’s life.
“I reminded her that I wasn’t offering marriage, but she could have the next-best thing. I made it clear that this was my final offer. If she said no, I was walking out that door once and for all.”
“She was willing to accept that?”
He hung his head. “Apparently so. Then I brought up the settlement. I told her I wasn’t upping the ante. If she was going to get anything out of me, she’d better sign.”
“You left the papers with her?”
“Yes,” he said bitterly. “I had my attorney contact her. This afternoon I got the signed papers by messenger, with the attorney’s notice that the check had been mailed.”
Roy looked so disheartened Anne ached once again to take him in her arms the way she had when he was small. He’d come to her for solace, but there was nothing she could do or say to ease this pain. Julie hadn’t turned out to be the woman Anne had hoped, after all.
“She has her money, then?”
He nodded. “It’s what she always wanted. Twenty-five thousand—no strings. I’ll say one thing for her,” he muttered cynically. “She was good.”
Anne’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “Live and learn,” she said under her breath.
“She came in right after Aimee that afternoon,” Roy said, speaking almost to himself.
Anne leaned closer, certain she’d misunderstood. “Aimee was five years ago.”
“No, Aimee was three days ago.”
Anne thought her heart had stopped beating. She needed a couple of minutes to calm herself before she asked, “Aimee came to see you? Recently?”
Roy’s gaze darted to hers. “I didn’t mean to say anything—I shouldn’t have. I apologize, Mom, for bringing up unpleasant memories.”
“Tell me,” Anne insisted.
Roy tilted back his chair, staring at the ceiling. “She stopped by the office, unannounced and unwelcome.”
“Whatever for?”
“Why does Aimee do anything?” Roy said sarcastically. “She wanted something.”
“What?”
Roy shook his head as if to say he still didn’t really believe it. “She came with some ridiculous story about my father loving me and wanting to see me again.”
“I know Burton’s tried to contact you,” Anne said.
“Who told you that?”
She didn’t want to get his assistant in trouble, but Ms. Johnson had volunteered the information. “It wouldn’t do you any harm to talk to him, you know.”
“I don’t have anything to say to the man,” Roy said bluntly.
Anne felt herself go rigid. “It’s been five years since you last talked to your father. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it’s time you two called a truce.” As difficult as it was, she gave Aimee credit for supporting Burton’s desire to make peace with his son.
“We don’t have anything in common.”
“He’s your father.”
“He betrayed us both.”
Anne didn’t have a response to that. She wasn’t in any position to defend Burton, and wouldn’t. “At least Aimee tried to help.”
Roy snickered. “Don’t go painting her in any chivalrous light. She had her own agenda. She always has. I should’ve recognized it at the time, but fool that I am, I took her at face value.”
“What do you mean?”
Roy looked away, as if he’d said more than he intended. “I called Dad.”
“Oh, Roy, I’m so glad you did.” Part of that was a lie, but for Roy’s sake she was grateful. A son, no matter what his age, needed his father.
He shook his head. “The conversation didn’t go well, but I did learn an important piece of information.”
Anne waited for him to explain.
“Aimee wants something big and expensive for Christmas, and Dad told her if he was going to plunk down thousands of dollars, she could do something for him.”
“I see.”
“He got what he wanted,” Roy murmured. “I phoned him, just like she knew I would.”
Aimee’s manipulativeness had left Roy deeply cynical toward women; Julie’s actions, unfortunately, had only confirmed that cynicism.
“How is your father?” Anne asked despite herself.
“You honestly care?” Roy’s eyes were skeptical. “The man betrayed you, cheated you, and now you’re concerned about his well-being? Don’t be, Mother. Dad is getting exactly what he deserves.”
“And what’s that?”
He laughed. “Aimee. She’s spending money faster than he can earn it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He cast her a doubting look.
Anne grinned. “Okay, that’s not entirely true. But I really don’t harbor any ill will toward your father. I’ve gotten on with my life. After the divorce, I felt used up and old, but now…” She got to her feet, still talking, and poured them each a coffee. “Well, the thing is, I found a whole new part of myself. I believe that our world was created with a sense of order. For every loss, there’s a gain. Sometimes we’re so blinded by the loss that we don’t see the gain
, don’t recognize the gift.” She paused, handing him his cup. “There’s a wonderful gift for you in Aimee’s betrayal, and one day you’ll discover it.”
Roy gazed at her with puzzlement and what seemed to be renewed respect. “You’re a better person than I’ll ever be.”
Anne hated to ask again, but she was curious about her ex-husband. “Is your father…well?”
“What you really mean is, does he have any regrets?” Roy supplied for her.
There was some truth in that. “I don’t think your father would admit any regrets to you, would he?”
Roy agreed. “Not in so many words, but it was easy enough to read between the lines.”
Anne held her breath. So often she’d speculated about Burton and his new life. “Other than financially, is everything as it should be?”
“I don’t think so. My guess is that Dad’s having trouble keeping up with Aimee, uh, physically. Now that he’s in his sixties, his work pace is taking its toll. He didn’t sound happy.”
“How did he sound?”
“Tired, exasperated, overworked.”
“I thought your father would’ve retired by now.”
“He can’t,” Roy said, “not with the speed at which Aimee is spending his money, and that’s only the half of it.”
“What do you mean?”
Roy shrugged and she thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to tell her. “It also seems that Aimee’s taken a liking to some of his clients—men who are seeking comfort after their divorces.”
Anne was shocked. “Your father actually told you that?”
“Not exactly, but close.” He shook his head in disgust. “She spouted all these platitudes about loving my father and building a bridge between us, and it was all lies.” A muscle leaped in the side of his jaw. “She came with a purpose, which she advanced with her lies. She wanted something from me, just the same as Julie did.”
Obviously, it was Julie who was on his mind. “No matter what papers Julie signed,” Anne said, “I still don’t think she’s anything like Aimee.”
“I’ve been fooled before, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”
“I know.” It broke her heart to admit that. “I wish I wasn’t leaving you over Christmas.”
He frowned, and then smiled. “Do you honestly think it bothers me? Christmas doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“But, Roy, it should.” Her heart ached for her only child. Nothing had worked out as she’d hoped. Her prayers, like so many before, had gone unanswered. Roy would be alone on Christmas Day.
Twenty-Three
Three days before Christmas, Julie knew this was destined to be the worst one of her life. She was already dealing with the loss of her mother and now she’d lost Roy, too.
Even her twin sister’s call hadn’t raised her spirits. Julie ended the conversation and then wandered into the living room, where her father sat watching the evening news.
One look at her, and Dean grabbed the remote control and muted the volume. “That bad?”
“I feel just awful.”
“Because of Fletcher?”
Slumping into the chair next to him, Julie nodded. “I don’t know what happened. I went to see him on Wednesday afternoon, and it was as if he’d shut me out of his life.” Julie still didn’t understand it. He’d been so cold and defensive; nothing she said had reached him. And their second meeting, a day later, was even worse.
“Is it the settlement money?”
She shrugged. She’d never intended to accept a dime of that settlement, but Roy had angered her so much she’d agreed to his terms out of pure frustration. He seemed to believe all women were greedy for money and power.
“I was tired of fighting with him,” she said in a subdued voice.
“I know. Fletcher’s gone far in the business world by the sheer strength of his determination.”
“Only in this instance, he’s wrong.”
“I know, Kitten.”
Her last angry exchange with Roy lingered in her mind. Furious, she’d signed those stupid papers. It was what he’d expected, what he’d demanded she do—and so she had. But oh, how she regretted it. She hated to end their relationship on such a negative note, but what choice did she have? Roy had cast her from his life as if she meant nothing.
“I don’t know if he’s capable of love,” she murmured, hoping her father had some consolation to offer.
“Every human has the capacity to love,” he said with such confidence that her heart surged with hope. “But a person’s ability to love is only equal to his or her openness in receiving it.”
Julie valued her father’s wisdom. He was right; nothing she could say or do at this point had the potential to reach Roy. He had certain beliefs about her and about all women, and he’d made certain assumptions as a result.
“I’d like one last opportunity to talk to him,” she said. Not because she expected to change his mind. That seemed doubtful. All she wanted was an opportunity to undo the damage they’d inflicted on each other.
Her father seemed to weigh her words. “Do you think seeing him again is wise?”
“I…don’t know. Probably not,” she said, but the need still burned within her. “I just feel so bad about the way we ended everything….”
“Fletcher’s been out of the office for a few days, but he’s back now.”
“It’s almost Christmas and…in the spirit of the holidays I thought…”
“You thought he might listen?”
“At least long enough to understand my reasons.”
“Do you want to do this for you or for Fletcher?” her father asked.
The question was a valid one. Julie mulled it over, then answered as honestly as she could. “I don’t know. I guess it’s for me. I don’t feel right leaving things the way they are. I can’t imagine he’ll see me, but I have to try.”
“Then write him a letter.”
“A letter,” Julie repeated. “I doubt he’d read it.”
“Does that matter?” her father asked. “You’ll have said what you feel is necessary. Then you can let him go.”
“True,” she admitted, the idea taking shape. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how much had been left unsaid.
“Whether Fletcher reads it or not is up to him,” her father said. “When feelings run this strong, sometimes letters are the best form of communication. There’s less room for misunderstanding or argument.”
Julie immediately felt relieved. Writing Roy, explaining her thoughts and emotions, was a solution she hadn’t considered before. She might never learn if he’d read her letter, but she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d done everything she could. If he responded, good; that would mean there was still a chance. If, as she expected, she never heard from him again, she could find peace in the knowledge that she’d tried.
“Oh, Dad, I don’t think I appreciate you nearly enough.”
Dean merely grinned and picked up the television remote.
Composing the letter took all evening. Julie read it over repeatedly before she was satisfied. In the first paragraph, she thanked Roy for the good times they’d shared, for opening his home and his life to her for even this short while.
That had been the easy part of the letter. More difficult was discussing his utter rejection of her. Then she related her father’s observation, telling Roy he could only trust her as much as he allowed himself to trust. In the last third of the letter, she apologized for her own angry response to his lack of faith.
It was midnight when she finished. Although she’d had trouble sleeping since their breakup, she experienced no such difficulty that night. Once again, she marveled at her father’s wisdom. It really didn’t matter whether Roy ever read her letter. In the process of articulating her reactions she’d found the peace she sought.
The next morning, the last day of school before winter break, Julie took the letter with her, planning to drop it off at the post office. School e
nded at noon, but after she’d had a festive lunch with the other teachers and straightened up her classroom, it was nearly three. If she posted the letter as she’d originally intended, he might not receive it until after Christmas. She had no idea what his Christmas plans were; maybe he’d already left for a Caribbean cruise or a country inn in Vermont, she thought whimsically. At one time, she’d hoped to invite him and his mother to join her and her father. She hadn’t even had a chance to broach the subject.
Nor had she spoken to his mother since Saturday. Anne hadn’t called her, and Julie didn’t feel comfortable putting his mother in the middle of this awkward situation.
Although it meant facing Jason, the guard at the entrance, she decided to deliver the letter personally.
Julie felt his gaze on her the moment she pulled into the parking lot. His eyes didn’t leave her until she’d parked in an empty slot and then climbed out of her car. Julie half expected the security guard to block the entrance. But Jason sat at his desk, one hand on the phone, obviously ready to call for reinforcements.
He got warily to his feet when she walked in, but remained solidly behind his desk, as if it afforded him protection.
“Stay away from me,” Jason warned.
Startled, Julie glanced over her shoulder. No one else was there. She couldn’t imagine why the burly guard would be afraid of her.
“I don’t know what you did to me, lady, but I don’t want a repeat of it, understand?”
“Jason,” she said in her most conciliatory voice, “what in heaven’s name are you talking about?”
“You know.” He gestured theatrically. “Just stay right where you are. You’re not allowed in this building.”
Actually she’d expected that. “Not to worry, I don’t have any intention of storming into Mr. Fletcher’s office. I have a letter for him.” She advanced slowly toward Jason’s desk, not wanting to intimidate him any more than she already had, although how she’d done that was a mystery.
He backed away until he bumped into the wall behind him.
“All I ask is that you give Mr. Fletcher this letter,” she said, careful to enunciate every word. “You don’t need to deliver it yourself,” she assured him, in case it was the prospect of an encounter with Roy that had unsettled him. “I’m sure Ms. Johnson will be more than happy to see that Mr. Fletcher receives it.”
Angels at Christmas Page 18
