Appointment at Christmas Bay

by Chase, Diane

  Most of the ground floor was devoted to staff offices, and some classes still met on the upper floors until a new structure was complete. A staircase rose up in the entry and divided two hallways. Downstairs to the left, Dr. Cabot and a few others officed. Juliette went right past Students Affairs to a small conference room.

  The door was unlocked, and the room reeked of mildew. An assortment of chairs surrounded a long, school-grade table, and tall, crank-styled windows overlooked a faculty parking lot. She flicked on the fluorescent light and settled near the window with her things.

  The words she wanted to say weren’t on paper; they dwelled in her heart and so far proved inadequate with the people she loved. How much more would they fail against the academic team? Even so, she dredged up hope. Who knew. The meeting might initiate a new direction with a feasible timetable.

  Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Dr. Cabot’s cackle rang out. Shortly, her advisor strode into the room followed by Dr. Avery Owen and Dr. Bill. Holding a few folders, she brushed her gray bob behind her ear.

  “Juliette Prescott, we’ve been waiting for you in my office.” She plopped her papers at the opposite end of the table and nodded to either side for the men to take their places.

  Juliette bug-eyed the three. “Oh, I thought…I’m sorry.” Dr. Cabot didn’t like explanations. She put her trembling hands in her lap.

  Dr. Owen’s roving eyes finally settled on hers, and he smiled. “I told Kim you’d be in here.”

  “Avery, can it.” Dr. Cabot settled back with her arms crossed and said, “Juliette, as you know, I have class in an hour, and Bill needs to get back to bed.”

  Wearing a wrinkled, plaid shirt and his balding, brown hair on end, Dr. Bill shook his head. “Prepare? Hasn’t a quarter of a century been long enough to memorize a few fish lessons?”

  The advisor removed her black-rimmed glasses, and glared at him. “Is that all, Bill?”

  Dr. Owen cleared his throat loudly. “Now, now. Let’s listen to the lovely girl’s presentation. It’s so good to see you, my dear.”

  “Avery, let me direct this meeting, please.” Dr. Cabot waved an index finger in the air. “This morning we’re straightening this out once and for all, Juliette. No one here has time for whims. The committee’s devoted enough time to narrowing your doctoral thesis. I can’t imagine what’s come up in a few short weeks to warrant a change.” She threw both hands out and nodded the direction of each man like they were suddenly best friends. “This flip-flop reminds me of what’s-his-name.”

  “Peter Jackson,” said Dr. Bill, his eyes pinned on the table.

  “Yes. That kid never got it together.” Dr. Cabot openly shivered in her chair. “Have you considered the expense of prolonging your education or how trolling for topics taxes the staff?”

  Juliette bit her lip. Had Dr. Cabot asked a question or made a statement?

  The woman leaned her elbows on the table. “I’ll take that perplexed look as a no. In any case, we’re here. Go ahead. I’m curious.”

  Juliette gulped and passed them each a page of notes in case she got tongue-tied, which was now. “How did prophecies in the Bible influence the Italian Renaissance?” she managed to squeak out. Suddenly nervous, she unrolled the ceiling with dog hair and dust stuck to the tape and anchored it with her purse and the notebook.

  Dr. Bill laughed. “Ah, I see you’ve gone deeeepp with your research.”

  Dr. Cabot put down the page of notes. “Really, Juliette. This reads like a freshman paper at a seminary.”

  Dr. Owen pinched his cheeks, stretching his wrinkled skin between his fingers and whispered something like, “I see you’ve gotten some sun.”

  Juliette frowned at the old geezer. A decade past retirement, he no doubt came this morning because he liked coeds. She ignored his leer and the frowns of the other two and concentrated on the beauty of the ceiling.

  “It’s a prophecy,” she said, too restless to sit down.

  “I think we’ve all been on that tour bus,” Dr. Cabot snapped. “Bill?”

  Dr. Bill shrugged at the patchwork masterpiece. “I’m lost. I mean, what are you trying to accomplish?” He slapped his hands on the table and seemed to stop short of another comment.

  “Don’t hold back,” Dr. Cabot interjected. “Let’s get this finalized once and for all.”

  He eyed Juliette. “She’s going to fry you if I don’t.” He ignored the advisor’s sneer, stood up, and sighed at the artwork. “No matter what you’re thinking with this, it’s been done.”

  Juliette’s heart thundered. “I’m just beginning to uncover relevant material, but it’s there.” He shook his head but she dared to go on. She pointed to one of five sibyls who alternated between the prophets. “Of course, we know about Virgil’s eclogue where the sibyl from Cumaea foretells the birth of the boy in a golden age, a prophecy of Christ—”

  “Juliette,” Dr. Cabot began.

  “I’m not suggesting it as a focus.” She held Dr. Cabot’s glare.

  “Then what are you suggesting?” Dr. Bill asked as he sat down.

  “I’m asking for more time, your approval to submit a formal proposal this fall.”

  Dr. Cabot pushed her glasses atop her head. “And sabotage a solid study of textiles?”

  “I agree. Bad idea, Juliette. The rest of the committee won’t sanction it either,” Dr. Bill said.

  “You know we can authorize a request like this if it’s warranted,” Dr. Cabot said without looking at him.

  He shook his head. “That’s not the point, Kim. You don’t chuck a viable topic midstream. Finish what you started and get on with your career. That’s my advice.”

  Dr. Owen pouted and turned to Kim. “What say you, madam? The girl’s done a smashing job ‘til now. Can’t we trust her?”

  Dr. Cabot waved her open palm. “Oddly enough, Avery, I agree with you. Bill, if she’s got the time and money, why not give her the green light.” She passed Juliette a stern look. “For me, the decision rides purely on your academic history and performance in the department, not on the flight of fancy you haphazardly submitted today.” She glanced at either man. “Do each of you agree to an extension for an unknown or at least unsubstantiated subject?”

  “Well put.” Dr. Bill chuckled. “I’m really on your side, Juliette. But that ceiling, a few words from a Virgil eclogue, a page of vague notes?” He shook his head. “I’ll swing with Kim, but you’re making a mistake. Avery, what’s your vote?”

  Dr. Owen winked. “She’s got my vote anytime.”

  Dr. Cabot screeched her chair back, and the men jumped up with her. “Sounds like your extension is granted, Juliette. I’ll expect your Summary of the Problem before you present your formal proposal to the committee.” She batted her eyes. “When would that be?”

  “November.” The word slipped out ahead of any thought. “Thanks.”

  After a few cordial words, the two professors piled out the door behind Dr. Cabot. Numb, Juliette sat down and listened to their voices fade down the hallway.

  They’d acquiesced, not given their blessing. Was the extra time they granted a victory? In the quiet room, their warnings replayed in her thoughts and taunted her frail confidence. How would she ever translate matters of her heart and new faith into a dissertation that pleased these sharks? And yet, she understood. Once upon a time, she swam with them.

  She hurried in the drizzle and sat a few minutes in the car. If Harry was free for lunch, she could hang out in town a couple of hours. She tried his cell phone and got his voicemail. Rather than leave a message, she called the office.

  “Graham, Hamilton & Smith,” a receptionist chirped.

  “Yes, Harry Oppenheim, please.”

  A prolonged silence followed. “One moment.”

  After a few minutes of classical music, a different woman came on the line and asked more curtly, “You were holding for Mr. Oppenheim?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s no longer employed here. I’m sorry we
’re unable to provide further information. Are you a client?” She didn’t sound familiar.

  What? “No.” Juliette hung up without waiting for a reply.

  The effects of caffeine overload, a short night, and harrowing meeting collided with the news. Trembling with disbelief, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the source.

  She parked in front of the townhouse and knocked even though she had a key in the car. He opened the door not looking at all surprised to see her.

  “When were you going to tell me, Harry?” She stood a few feet back from the door, not sure whether she felt furious or sad.

  He eyed his tennis shoes. “You’re going to pounce right off the bat? No sympathy or questions about life at the firm? Why don’t you come inside.” He stepped back inside the townhouse, and Juliette followed.

  “It’s Ameropolix, isn’t it? This is about going to work for them.”

  “I see you got the press release.”

  Juliette’s heart thundered in fury. “How long were you planning to keep this a secret?”

  He laughed sardonically. “Probably until you could handle a decent conversation. Keith’s a bipolar idiot, insisting I represent Ameropolix one minute and yanking it away the next. We got into it Monday afternoon, and he fired me.” His eyes flamed at hers. She didn’t know who he was anymore. She could barely listen as he continued. “Thank goodness or I’d have been hemmed into that contract until December. Anyway, Brad Barrington’s been my only sanity.”

  “But he’s Keith’s client.”

  “And as such, he had the prerogative to choose representation. Me.”

  Juliette slipped off her engagement ring and held it out. Harry crossed his arms.

  “Take it,” she said. When he threw up his palm, she strolled to the coffee table and dropped in on the newspaper. “Goodbye, Harry.”

  She was almost to the car when the townhouse door slammed shut and shattered the quietness of the neighborhood. She had no regret, no uncertainty. In fact, she felt a strange peace for the first time all summer even if it didn’t take the pain away.

  About a mile from the townhouse, Juliette pulled into a strip center parking lot. The rain picked up and smattered the windshield, about as many tears as her heart wanted to cry. She draped her hands over the steering wheel, and her sobs rang out, painful and deep. After a while, she wiped her face with a hand sanitizer cloth and headed to the freeway. By then, the rain fell in blinding torrents, and the southbound traffic slowed to a crawl on the other side of downtown.

  Numb, almost in a trance, she proceeded slowly, tears spilling down her cheeks and nausea gripping her gut. She hadn’t gone far when the phone rang. It was Lexi.

  “Aunt Peggy wanted me to call you,” she said. “Dad got on an earlier flight, and he’ll be here at four.”

  Juliette sobered up. “Okay, girl. I’m just leaving town. Is it raining there?”

  “Pouring,” Lexi said dramatically.

  “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  Depending on the traffic and weather, the drive could take longer than usual, but she should arrive well ahead of Eric. She flipped through the CDs and not up to praise music, chose a sermon on marriage. She heard bits and pieces before, but this time the message lodged deep in her broken heart.

  God’s kingdom has rules and order, the woman said in so many words. From there, she outlined the roles of Godly men and women, quoting scriptures that at some point were worth writing down.

  She played the CD twice on the way home and let the words push back a total breakdown. By the time she turned on 19th Street, Juliette felt strong enough to bid Lexi goodbye. An unfamiliar car was parked in front of the house. She pulled back to the garage and dashed to the backdoor. The voices of Asher, Peggy, Lexi, and a man weren’t a surprise. They were all in the living room.

  Eric Lin looked a lot like he had on the videoconference, maybe taller than she expected. Dressed in tan slacks and a black dress shirt, he extended his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” He put his arm around Lexi when she went to his side. “We appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  “Dad, that’s the kind of dog I want.” Lexi snatched Skipper and held her for inspection. “See?”

  “Yes, she’s a good-looking little pooch.” Eric stroked the dog’s wiry hair. “Juliette, we’ll need to be leaving, I’m afraid. Lexi and I have a dinner engagement with someone in Houston.”

  Lexi looked up at him. “We do? With who?”

  He ran his fingers through the length of her ponytail. “Who would you want it to be?”

  She scrunched her nose as she thought about it. “Mom?”

  Her father nodded and hugged her to his side. She bent her head to the floor and gasped like she might cry. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s load your bags in the car.”

  Asher jumped up from the sofa. “Let me help you, Eric.”

  The two men disappeared, and she, Lexi, and Peggy strolled to the front porch.

  Juliette wrapped her arms around the bony girl. “We’ve got a jillion pictures. I’ll send those, and you send some from Europe.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you, kid.”

  “I know. Me too.” Lexi stepped back. “Are you okay? Did something happen at your meeting?”

  “I’m fine. Now, listen, you email me all the time.” Juliette placed her index finger on the kid’s dripping nose.

  Lexi sniffed. “Everyday?”

  “If you want.” Juliette hugged her one more time. “Tell your mama ‘hi’ for me.”

  “I will.”

  Asher and Eric trotted from the car and up the porch steps. They exchanged their goodbyes, including a long one from Lexi to Skipper.

  “Bye, princess,” she said teary-eyed.

  “Bye, bye,” Asher said smiling.

  Lexi busted his arm. In a few minutes, she and her father ran for the car and pulled away.

  Peggy dabbed her cheeks with her apron. “Kind of reminds me of when the boys moved.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Asher studied the porch planks. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t,” Juliette said.

  They hugged her and hurried home in the slacking rain. She cradled the dog in her arms. For the first time in weeks, the little thing didn’t wiggle to get down.

  “Well, it’s over, girl,” she said turning back to the door. “All of it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Juliette tried to sleep on the library sofa, but a dream about suffocating in outer space woke her at one point, and at others verses she read in Philippians before lying down swirled with her worry. Her restlessness finally won out, and she peered out the open plantation shutters at the waning daylight.

  So, the sun hadn’t set on the awful day of her un-engagement and Lexi’s departure. The double sorrow reached further than any she remembered and sickened her head to toe. Her ring finger felt the phantom sensation of the beautiful diamond. She looked at the outline of the pale line against her slight tan. How could she possibly survive this?

  Before she drifted off, she’d found some comfort in Philippians. She gathered the open Bible into her lap and skimmed for the part that she’d liked. It was 2:14. With Skipper snug under her arm, she drank in the words.

  “Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life—in order that I may boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor for nothing.”

  It seemed to be for her, that she did not run or labor for nothing. Was that a way of saying not to waste time? She slipped the ribbon place holder over the page and decided to study it later. Unfortunately, she’d already wasted time, a lot of it.

  The backyard captured the pastel shades of the setting sun. Juliette gazed out the window and worried how it’d be at nightfall. Being alone in the house, worse, alone with her disappointment
s sounded like pure agony.

  What was she suppose to do, start over? Maybe that worked with the dissertation, but she was close to thirty-years-old. A loud cry purged the fear of ending up alone.

  “Oh, Harry. Why!”

  This morning, his smooth face twisted with shock and pain. She tried to keep his features in her mind’s eye, but the image was fading. Blackness took its place like someone pulled the plug. And something said she’d never get over this.

  Grief, like some kind of monster, blotted out every thought, overtook every nerve and shook her with terror. Her whole body racked with sobs so loud the dog jumped off the sofa and paced the room. She gasped with congestion and fought to get the words out.

  “Oh, Lord…please help me...hold on to my sanity.”

  ****

  Later that evening, Juliette camped out in her parents’ bedroom, a place with solid history on its walls. Behind the bed, various family portraits hung along with a collection of scrimshaws, a giant mirror trimmed in local seashells, and dozens of other whatnots that reminded her she was somebody before she met Harry.

  While the TV played decorating shows and old movies, she slept fitfully, let the dog outside about 4 a.m., and woke at eleven the next morning with a wicked headache and dry mouth. She managed to get down a few bits of toast, slept some more, ordered a pizza for dinner, ate one slice, and drank a half-liter of Diet Pepsi. That night she made the mistake of trying to sleep in Gwyneth’s old room and later moved to her own bed.

  Friday likewise came and went. Saturday morning, she finally washed her hair and dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Her parents, who’d been strangely silent, were due in tomorrow afternoon. If they didn’t call first, she’d break the bad news about the engagement when they arrived, provided they did.

  At the top of the stairs, she paused. All beds but Lexi’s were unmade, clothes hung on doorknobs, and the bathroom could use a good wipe down. Maybe she’d clean a bit later.

  In the kitchen, she ate a few bites of a hasty peanut butter and jelly sandwich until a few tears forced her to drop the rest atop a stack of dishes in the sink. With Skipper shadowing her every move, she returned upstairs to the master bedroom. That day also passed in a hypnotic blur on the sofa watching television and dozing on and off.