Everyone had already arrived by the time Julia showed up for the weekly breakfast meeting on the first Thursday of February. Liz had ordered her usual coffee and croissant and looked wonderful in her pinstriped power suit. Her dark hair was stylishly short and utterly feminine. Julia knew her friend’s life was much easier now that the nurses’ strike had been averted. Liz’s name had turned up in the local newspaper often in the past few weeks, and she’d played no small role in the ultimate resolution.
Clare had her double-shot espresso and currant scone, and sat next to Liz at the table for four. She looked less harried now than she had when they’d first met, Julia noted; still, the recent contact with her ex had thrown her, and her resentment and anger had quickly surfaced. She seemed to be rebounding, though, and that was good for everyone involved—especially her sons. Julia didn’t mean to be judgmental or critical; Clare had reason to feel the way she did. To Clare’s credit, she’d made a gallant effort to get on with her life. She worked part-time and seemed less obsessive over the breakup of her marriage. Julia believed the group had been a good sounding board for her, and more than that, a real support.
Karen was there, too, with her multi-mix latte, a different flavor combination each week. Last week it’d been a coconut cream concoction and the aroma had made Julia nauseous. She hadn’t told them about the pregnancy yet, wanting to delay it until she knew if there’d actually be a pregnancy.
Her three friends greeted her with welcoming smiles as she joined them. She ordered herbal tea and a blueberry muffin at the counter and carried them to the table where the others waited.
“Morning,” she said, sitting next to Karen. “How’s everyone this week?”
A chorus of “goods” followed. It was almost always like this. They started off slowly, each talking a little about the week that had passed, then gradually gaining momentum. Their lives were full of commitments, family obligations and stress. Outside of Thursdays, they rarely saw one another, but that had started to change. Liz and Clare got together occasionally; they seemed to have formed a close bond. And last Sunday afternoon, they’d all attended a movie.
Liz spread strawberry preserves across half her croissant as Karen animatedly described a recent audition for a dog food commercial. Apparently, the cocker spaniel had taken an instant dislike to her and growled every time she’d attempted to say her lines. Not surprisingly, she didn’t get the part, but the way she told the story had them all laughing and offering sympathy.
“This director likes me, though,” she concluded, “and Gwen, my agent, said she’d bring up my name the next time he’s casting.” She finished with a heavy theatrical sigh. “It seems my entire career rests on ‘next time.’ It really irritates me, too, because I love dogs and until the audition they’ve always loved me. You can bet I’ll never own a cocker spaniel.”
As they continued to talk about Karen’s audition, Julia noticed that Liz had grown quiet. She wondered if her friend’s lack of enthusiasm had anything to do with the recent troubles at the hospital. But the strike had been averted. Perhaps it was that doctor she’d mentioned a couple of times. Julia had caught on right away; Liz’s offhand manner when she’d told the group about him had instantly signalled that there was more to the situation.
“Have you heard anything more from your doctor friend?” she asked.
Liz shook her head. It was obvious from the way she shifted in her chair and stared off into the distance that she didn’t want to talk about Dr. Jamison.
“Is he bothering you?” Clare demanded. Her aggressiveness on Liz’s behalf made Julia smile a little. Clare seemed ready to roll up her sleeves and do battle with Dr. Jamison.
“He’s not exactly bothering me,” Liz said, but Julia could tell she didn’t like being put in the position of defending him.
Karen leaned across the table. “You’re interested in him, aren’t you? I thought you were when you first mentioned his name, and now I’m sure of it.”
“I’m not,” Liz insisted, but she didn’t sound convincing.
“Who do you think you’re kidding?” Clare said with a deep-throated laugh. “Somehow or other, the good doctor turns up in our conversation practically every week.”
“Are you going to dinner with him? He asked you out again, didn’t he?”
“As a matter of fact, he didn’t and even if he did, the answer’s the same. Really, I’m not interested.”
“Yeah, right,” Karen said good-naturedly. She propped her elbows on the table, clearly expecting Liz to supply more details.
Liz ignored her, paying careful attention to her croissant. “He hasn’t stopped by the office in weeks, and from what I hear, he’s seeing one of the physical therapists, which is perfectly fine with me.”
“Is it?” Clare asked.
“Yes. I told you before I’m too old for him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clare scoffed. “Besides, if he’s as brilliant as you say, he’ll soon figure out what he’s missing.”
“Valentine’s Day is coming up,” Karen said, raising her finely shaped eyebrows.
“Guys, I’m serious! I doubt I’d go out with him even if he did ask.”
“You’ll know when the time comes,” Karen said confidently.
“Just be careful,” Clare inserted. “Guard your heart.” She dropped her voice on the last word, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“What about you, Clare?” Julia asked her. “How’s the situation between Mick and Alex?”
A pained look came over Clare’s face. “Mick isn’t speaking to his brother yet, but I’m sure that eventually they’ll settle this.”
“You hate seeing your boys fighting about their father, don’t you?”
Clare twisted her mouth. “Does anyone mind if we don’t talk about Michael? I was just starting to get my appetite back.”
They all grinned.
Clare relaxed, and Julia realized anew how hard her friend was struggling to keep the resentment out of her life.
“On a different subject, I’m thinking about selling the house once Alex graduates this summer,” Clare said next. “I spent all week sorting through twenty years of junk, trying to decide what to do. I want to think positive, but it’s damned difficult. When Michael and I built the house, it was with the intention of living there for the rest of our lives. That’s why the master bedroom is on the main floor. We were looking to the future and didn’t want to worry about climbing stairs when we hit our senior years.”
“Then live there,” Karen said. “No one’s saying you have to move.”
“No,” Clare agreed, “but I’m not sure I can after Alex is gone. The house represents so much of what my marriage was to me, and now it’s over. Everything I’d planned for the future is meaningless now.”
“You’ll make other plans,” Julia assured her.
“I know,” Clare said, sipping her espresso. “It just takes time.”
“Have you talked to your mother lately?” Liz asked Karen.
Karen’s reaction was immediate. She stiffened. “Not a word.”
“What about your sister?” Clare asked.
Karen shook her head.
“I thought you said Victoria called you recently.”
“She did,” Karen admitted. “That’s twice within the last month, which has to be something of a record. Generally I’m fortunate if I hear from her on my birthday.”
“Any reason she’s calling you more frequently?”
“None that I can figure out, except…”
“Yes?” Liz urged.
Again Karen shook her head. “I’m beginning to wonder if my sister’s as happy as she leads everyone to believe.”
“What makes you say that?”
“First, she hardly ever has people over. Second, I hardly ever see her and Roger together. Plus that last time she called, it sounded like she’d been crying.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“Sure I did,” Karen replied, a bit indignantly. “She said s
he’d caught a bad cold.” She rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t shock me, you know, if she’s not Ms. Perfect, after all. But it would shock Mom.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s calling you,” Clare suggested.
“Maybe.”
“What’s her husband like?” Julia asked.
“He’s a twit. He’s a lot like my mother, only he’s a man.” Karen grimaced. “I can’t imagine anyone marrying Roger.”
“Your sister loves him,” Liz reminded her.
“I know. In my humble opinion that means there’s something wrong with her.” Karen took a deep sip of her flavored drink; Julia thought it smelled like a cherry-vanilla combination. “Victoria and I were never close….”
“But she seems to be reaching out to you now,” Julia said.
“Maybe she’s hoping you’ll reach back,” Clare added.
Karen held the straw between her lips. “You think?”
Everyone nodded. There was silence for a minute or two.
“Have you heard anything from Jeff lately?” Liz asked suddenly.
“He’s out of the picture. Looks like I’m going to be dateless on Valentine’s Day. It won’t be the first time and it probably won’t be the last.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “My agent decided not to take him on. He’s got talent but no drive. He expected me to smooth the way for him, lead him by the hand. I’ve got enough trouble managing my own career. I can’t baby-sit his. Once he figured that out, we had a parting of the ways. Trust me, it’s no great loss.”
“What about the guy you were telling us about a little while ago?” Clare asked.
“What guy?”
“George Somebody.”
“I mentioned Glen?” She seemed surprised by this.
“I thought it was George,” Clare said to Liz.
Liz smiled. “Apparently not.”
“It’s Glen.”
“Tell us more,” Liz said. “We’re living vicariously through you.”
Karen grinned and flipped a long strand of brown hair over her shoulder. “Sorry, there’s nothing to tell. He’s a high-school chemistry teacher. We met briefly in a parking lot across from the school where I was subbing. He’s not my type.”
“Damn,” Liz muttered, and they all laughed.
“Just a minute,” Clare said, turning to Julia. “What about you? Everyone else has been doing all the talking. How’s your week been?”
Julia stared down at her hands. She hadn’t planned to tell her friends about the pregnancy until March, when she reached the twelve-week point, but she wanted to confide in them now, wanted it so much.
“Julia?” Liz asked, sounding concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Clare asked with a gentleness Julia hadn’t seen in her before. This show of compassion gave her a hint of what the other woman had been like before the divorce.
“You can tell us, whatever it is,” Karen insisted.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered, fighting back the desperation that always seemed to hover.
“It’s Peter, isn’t it?” Clare cried, outraged and angry now. “He’s found someone else.”
“No.” Julia shook her head, wanting to laugh because that idea was so incredibly ridiculous. “No,” she said again, sighing deeply. “I’m pregnant.”
The other three stared at her as if they weren’t sure they should believe her.
“You’re joking, right?” Karen said, looking from one to the other for a sign that she’d missed something earlier.
“I’m afraid not.” If there was a joke, it’d been on her. “In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not particularly pleased.”
“Oh, Julia,” Liz said, her eyes warm with sympathy.
“What are you going to do?” Clare asked next.
“Do,” she repeated. “What can I do? I’ll have this baby.” And resent it the rest of my life. “I keep thinking this is God’s sense of humor. Here I am trying to be so grateful, listing five blessings each and every morning—and now this? A pregnancy at age forty is one blessing I could’ve done without.”
“Hey,” Karen said, “we didn’t talk about our word this week.”
“Screw the word,” Clare said fiercely. “We have more important things to deal with right now.”
“What does Peter say?” Liz asked.
“Peter?” Julia said and laughed humorlessly, “is positively delighted.”
“Figures,” Clare groaned.
“He loves children…he’s always wanted more. I was the one who insisted we stop at two.” Her husband wasn’t the only person who was thrilled with this news, either. Julia’s mother had been overcome with excitement. “My own mother—” she threw back her head, eyes closed “—said the baby’s a blessing in disguise.”
“It’s a mother thing,” Liz said. “She’s happy about adding another grandchild to her brag book.”
“Have you told anyone else?” Karen asked.
“My mom and sister know, and my cousin Georgia.”
“How’d they react?”
“Janice laughed. She said she couldn’t help it. I’m the one who so carefully planned her life—always so organized and methodical—while Janice just kind of…improvises. And look at me now! Which is why she finds the situation hilarious.” Julia exhaled softly. “When I told Georgia, she smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in thirty minutes. Then we sat and had a good cry together.”
“That sounds like Georgia.”
Julia reached nervously for her tea. Ever since learning of the pregnancy, Georgia had made a habit of visiting the shop every afternoon. Just yesterday, she’d brought Julia a bottle of vitamins that were large enough to choke a crocodile. With the vitamins had come a lengthy lecture on proper diet and the importance of exercise. It was Georgia’s contention that Julia should get away from the shop more often; she insisted the two of them take up mall-walking. With that in mind, she’d purchased identical purple and hot-pink nylon running outfits. Julia declined, but Georgia had been relentless. Later, under pressure, Julia agreed to exercise, but only when she was feeling better.
“What about the kids?” Liz asked. “How did they react?”
“We haven’t told them yet.” Julia dreaded the thought. Her children were typical teenagers—meaning self-involved—and their entire world focused on their own needs. Peter had a blind spot when it came to his children; he sincerely believed they’d be just as delighted as he was. Julia doubted it.
“You have to adjust to it yourself first,” Liz said and patted her hand.
“What about The Wool Station? Are you going to close it while you’re on maternity leave?”
“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. So many questions remained unanswered. Peter was full of vague reassurances; he kept insisting they’d make it work.
Everyone was quiet for a while, as though they required a moment to absorb the news.
“If you need anything, you holler,” Karen said. “I don’t know much about babies, but I’ll do what I can.”
“I will, too,” Clare assured her. “You have my complete support.”
“And mine,” Liz promised.
“Thank you,” Julia whispered, grateful for these three dear friends. She had the feeling she was going to be calling upon them often in the months to come.
“Life is under no obligation to give us what we expect.”
—Margaret Mitchell
Chapter 13
CLARE CRAIG
February 4th
I can’t believe what happened yesterday. I saw Michael for the first time—outside a courtroom—since the divorce became final. Not by choice, mind you. Alex was in a soccer tournament in Fresno this weekend, and I assumed Michael wouldn’t be there. My mistake. Michael’s worked weekends for years and Fresno’s a long drive. Needless to say, I took it for granted that he wouldn’t show up.
Seeing my ex-husband was a shock. He’s thinner now than when we were together, and what he wore—k
hakis and a Gap sweatshirt—reflected the change he’s made in his life. If he’s going to live with a twenty-year-old, I guess it’s not surprising that he’d dress like one. As though he could fool anyone. It’s pathetic.
What astonished me most was the pain I felt when I saw him. And not only pain but anger and resentment. I thought I was past this! It’s disheartening to realize how far I have yet to go.
To be fair, I have to admit Michael didn’t mingle with the other parents. He stood at the far end of the field, away from everyone else. In fact, he was there a good hour before I noticed him, which happened when Alex ran off the field to talk to him. Then, and only then, did I see that the stranger near the goalpost was Michael. From that point onward, the entire tournament was ruined for me.
Alex knew how upset I was and did his best to explain once we were alone. He told me he was surprised to see Michael at the Fresno game, too. I could tell he was pleased and didn’t want to squelch his joy, but I was furious with Michael. He should have had the decency to let me know.
I’ve been depressed ever since last night. Alex isn’t here right now; he’s been gone a lot lately, busy with his job, soccer, school and friends. It wouldn’t be appropriate to discuss my feelings with him, anyway. Usually when something like this comes up, I go to Liz. I suppose it’s because she’s older and she’s been through the grief of losing her husband, but she always has a sensible perspective on things. I’ve been going to her a lot lately, relying on her too much, and I feel it’s time I dealt with these problems on my own.
I spent last night wallowing in self-pity. I was exhausted after the long drive home, but I sat in the living room until the wee hours of the morning, thinking about all the times Michael and I attended the boys’ games together. He missed some of the Saturday morning games, but for the most part we were there as a couple. I found myself crying again—all this heartache—and then I simply decided I couldn’t let one man destroy me like this.
Easier said than done.
Sometimes I wonder if this pain will ever end. Michael’s lost at least thirty pounds. So he’s looking lean and craggy (very much his age, in my opinion). But he dresses in a style better suited to one of his sons. Miranda’s obviously responsible for that. She’s probably worn him to a frazzle with all her sexual demands. Good, maybe he’ll die young and miserable. I’ve done my part to make sure he dies broke.
Thursdays At Eight Page 9
