Future Perfect

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Liz snuck a glance at her friend. Jule was smiling back at the man as if they had some kind of a secret. Hmmm.

  “It’s only a first draft,” Web added. “But there’s a lot there that I’m proud of.”

  “He read it to you yet?” Liz asked Juliana.

  She shook her head in exaggerated disappointment. “No. And he says he’s not going to.” She sighed. “I guess I don’t rate first drafts.”

  “Oh, come on,” Webster said. “No one reads my first drafts.”

  Alicia stepped out onto the porch, dressed in her long, black overcoat, and matching hat. “I’m off then,” she announced. “Hello, dear,” she added as she saw Liz. “How are you? Getting close, isn’t it?”

  “Not close enough,” Liz said darkly. “The doctor’s still giving me another week. I’ve entered the final phase of pregnancy—the loss of hope phase. I’m convinced it’s just never going to end. I’m going to be pregnant forever.”

  “I had a friend once,” Alicia said. “She was four weeks overdue. That was forty years ago, back before they started inducing labor.”

  “Cheer me up, why don’t you,” Liz groaned, shaking her head. “It’s time to change this unpleasant subject. Where are you going, Al?”

  As soon as she asked, she figured it out. Alicia was clearing out to give these two—the two who only had eyes for each other—a chance at some privacy.

  “A friend of mine just went into the hospital, down in Manhattan,” Alicia said. “I’m going to visit her and some other friends in the city.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Liz said. “This is the friend who was so long overdue. After forty years, she’s finally going to have the baby!”

  Juliana gave a strangled laugh. “Oh, ouch! Don’t make me laugh, Liz!”

  “Sorry!”

  “I’ll see you at the end of the week,” Alicia said, kissing Juliana. She winked at Webster, ruffled Liz’s golden curls and went down the stairs.

  Liz waited until Alicia was out of earshot, then leaned forward. “Jule, you know I adore Alicia, but every time she leaves, I always feel like, ‘All right! Mom and Dad are away, let’s have a party!’ You know what I mean?”

  Juliana smiled. “That’s because you never went through a truly rebellious phase.”

  “Only because my parents were great,” Liz countered. “How could I be rebellious when whatever I did was perfectly okay with my parents—short of death and dismemberment of course.”

  “Liz really does have tremendous parents,” Juliana told Webster.

  “And five perfect brothers and sisters,” Liz said. She grinned. “And then there was me and Batman.”

  “Batman?” Webster frowned.

  “Kurt,” Juliana explained.

  “You know, the dark knight,” Liz said. “Even as a child, that boy was not normal. He was always brooding.”

  “Kurt?” Webster said. “Happy, friendly Kurt? Brooding?”

  “Yeah. But mom and dad still loved him,” Liz said. Inside the house, the telephone rang.

  “You want me to get it?” Webster asked.

  Juliana nodded. “If it’s for me, can you bring me the cordless phone?”

  “I am your slave.”

  Liz could tell his words weren’t entirely in jest. She watched him smile at Juliana and touch her face gently before he went inside.

  “This guy is crazy about you,” she whispered to her friend. “It’s so sweet.”

  Juliana blushed.

  Webster appeared in the doorway. “Jule, it’s the Edgewoods,” he said. “They’ve got a family emergency in Ohio, and since Horace won’t fly, they were hoping to stay here.” He paused. “Tonight.”

  Juliana stared up at Webster. His face was expressionless, but she knew he wanted her to say, no, they couldn’t come. He’d asked her out to dinner tonight to a fancy restaurant in Stockbridge. If the Edgewoods were coming, they wouldn’t be able to go. Add on top of that, with Alicia out of town, they’d been looking forward to having the entire house to themselves.

  “What kind of emergency?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Edgewood’s mother died,” he said.

  Juliana swore softly. “How can I turn them down?” she said. “I’m sorry, Web. Can we go out tomorrow night?”

  He nodded, smiling. “I’ll tell ’em we’ll be waiting for them. But you’re not cooking dinner. You’re still not up to that.”

  He turned away, but then turned back, coming out onto the porch. “ ’Scuse me, Liz.” He put his two large hands over the blond woman’s ears. “I may go into severe withdrawal if you can’t manage to sneak down to my room tonight,” he said to Juliana, then let go of Liz.

  “I keep my promises,” Juliana said, and Webster nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  “What promises?” Liz asked as soon as Webster was gone.

  “I promised Web … some time alone, just the two of us, when he finished his book,” Juliana said tactfully.

  Liz grinned. “I remember when Sam broke a rib in that celebrity rodeo,” she said. “We had to make love real slowly and carefully. It was great.”

  “Liz!” Juliana laughed, then grabbed her side.

  “It was!”

  “What was?” Webster asked, coming back onto the porch.

  “Nothing!” Both Liz and Juliana said it at the same time, and Juliana’s cheeks turned pink.

  “Now that’s an admission of guilt if I ever heard one.” Webster stretched his long legs out in front of him lazily as he sat on the bench. “Who are you guys talking about?”

  “Actually, we were talking about Sam,” Liz said, with a grin at Juliana. “He’s got a charity concert somewhere near Springfield tomorrow night. It’s at Holyoke, I think. Or one of those colleges up there.”

  “Do you have someone coming to stay with you?” Juliana asked.

  Liz shrugged. “Mom and Dad are right in town if I need ’em. Besides, Sam’ll be back that night. Late, but he’ll be back.” She smiled. “To tell you the truth, I’m hoping that his being out of town will tempt fate, and I’ll actually go into labor. At this point, I just want to have this baby.”

  Juliana glanced up to find Webster’s eyes on her. One more week, she thought suddenly. He was leaving in one more week. Maybe he’d stay longer, finish up another draft of his book.

  No, that was ridiculous, she realized. He couldn’t just stick around forever. But before he left, she was going to set a date for her to visit him in Boston. And maybe this winter, he could come up and go skiing.

  She smiled. If she had that to look forward to, his leaving would be okay. Yeah, it was going to be okay.…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Juliana sat at the kitchen table, waiting for her coffee cake to bake.

  “Okay,” Webster said, breezing into the room. “The Edgewoods are all set. I did everything but tuck ’em in.”

  “They looked exhausted,” Juliana said. “Poor Mrs. Edgewood. I feel badly for her.”

  “Can I help you with anything?” he asked, gently massaging her shoulders.

  She smiled up at him. “You can sit down and help me wait for this cake to finish baking. The Edgewoods want to leave the house by five, and they told me not to bother getting up. So I thought I’d bake a coffee cake tonight and leave it out for them. I’ll also set the timer on the coffee maker.” Her smile turned slightly wicked. “That means you and I can stay in bed, guilt free.”

  “Guilt free.” Webster nodded, sitting across from her and taking her hand. “I like that.”

  Juliana’s hair was shining, and the dark circles of pain that had remained under her eyes for days had finally vanished. Webster smiled, remembering how she’d stayed in his room—in his bed—for the past week, just letting herself rest and heal, letting him take care of her.

  Every night, he’d slept with her in his arms. They hadn’t made love, but it didn’t matter. It was enough to hold her, to be next to her.

  “Have you heard anything about a storm coming?
” Juliana asked, standing up and opening the oven door, checking on the cake. Another five minutes, she thought.

  Webster shook his head. “No. Why?”

  “Mr. Edgewood told me there’s supposed to be a storm coming in tomorrow, heading down from Canada. That’s why they want to get on the road so early. It’s supposed to hit Ohio pretty hard. He said they were predicting fourteen inches of snow.”

  “If we get anything, it’ll probably just be rain,” Webster said. “It’s too early for any major snow, isn’t it?” He laughed. “God almighty, wouldn’t that be a pain in the neck? Our big chance for some time alone, and we get snowed in with the Edgewoods.”

  Careful of her ribs, Juliana sat down on his lap. She put her hands up around his neck and played with the hair that curled over his collar, kissing him softly on the lips. “Are you going to make love to me tonight?” she asked, looking into his deep-blue eyes.

  He kissed her, and she could taste a hint of fire. “That depends,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel … all right,” Juliana said. She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “I’d like to feel better.”

  Webster laughed—that soft, dangerous, sexy sound that she loved. He kissed her again, and his kiss held promises of things to come.

  Juliana looked into his eyes again. There were times like this that she loved him so much she seemed to lose all sense of balance. If she weren’t holding on to him, she’d probably fall right over.

  “Thank you for not making a fuss about missing our dinner date,” she said softly. “It means a lot to me to be able to help the Edgewoods. I love you,” she added, her voice even softer.

  He gave her another kiss, one so sweet and soft and slow that time seemed to stand still around them. But time wasn’t standing still, and that coffee cake was going to burn unless it came out of the oven.

  Gently slipping out of Web’s arms, Juliana stood up, crossing to the oven. She peeked inside, then turned off the heat and grabbed the oven mitts. She carefully set the pan down on the cooling rack, then closed the oven door.

  “That’s it,” she said. “Just let me check to make sure I set the timer for the coffee maker …”

  “Juliana, will you marry me?”

  She turned around, staring at him. She must have misunderstood. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Webster stood up, and Juliana felt her head tilt back as she looked up at him. Sweet heavens, sometimes she forgot exactly how tall this man was.

  “I wanted to ask you after we got back from dinner,” he said, his eyes intent. But then a smile softened his face. “I kind of pictured us sitting in the front parlor in front of the fireplace, wearing fancy clothes. I wanted it to be perfect, but I also wanted to ask you tonight. So here we are, wearing our jeans, in the kitchen, with the Edgewoods upstairs. It may not be the most romantic setting, but God, Jule, I love you, and I can’t wait another minute to ask you. I want to marry you. Say you’ll marry me.”

  Marry me.

  Juliana laughed, very faintly.

  Marry me.

  His words seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen.

  Marry me.

  He was standing there, waiting for her to say something.

  Marry me.

  “Um,” Juliana heard herself say.

  Webster laughed. “Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but it’s a start.”

  “Webster,” she said, and her voice sounded weak to her own ears. She cleared her throat and leaned back against the kitchen counter for support. “I’m sorry, but … no.”

  It was not the answer he wanted, and his smile disappeared. “What?” Now he was the one hoping he’d misunderstood.

  “No,” Juliana repeated softly. “Thank you, but … no.”

  Webster stared at her, confused and shaken. The tone of her voice had been so very definite, so absolute. She didn’t want to marry him. “Why not?” Somehow he managed to keep his voice sounding calm.

  Juliana was looking down at her feet. When she looked up at him, he saw she was as unhappy about this as he was. “Webster, I thought you knew,” she said slowly. “I don’t want to get married. I like my life the way it is. I like being independent—I don’t have to answer to anyone. Marriage would change all that.”

  She really didn’t want to marry him. Really, truly, absolutely, she didn’t want to marry him, and she had a bevy of excuses lined up and ready to explain why.

  “There’s just no room in my life for marriage,” she said.

  Something snapped. Getting mad wasn’t going to help, Webster tried to tell himself. But he couldn’t keep the words from coming out. “You mean, there’s no room in your life for me,” he said. “Jesus, Juliana, you just said that you loved me—”

  “I do love you,” she protested.

  “Yeah, just not enough,” Webster said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

  “That’s not fair,” she said, her voice shaking. “Did you really think I’d be willing to just give up this place, my life? Did you really think I’d just throw it all away? Damn it, Webster, I’m happy living here.”

  “So instead, you’re going to throw away what we have between us,” he said angrily.

  “We can still see each other,” Juliana objected. “I can come to Boston to visit, you can come out here and write a few weeks each year—”

  “A few weeks,” Webster’s voice was getting louder. “I don’t want a few lousy weeks. I want every second, every minute. I want day and night, Juliana. I want it enough to be the one to make all the concessions. I’ll move out here, I’ll come to you, we can do it your way.”

  “Webster, I don’t want to get married,” Juliana said. “Not to you, not to anyone. I just don’t want to!”

  He was silent then. She could see the muscles working in his jaw.

  “Well, I do,” he finally said. “And I don’t want to do this halfway. I’m not interested in a long-distance, part-time relationship. I want it all—or I want nothing.”

  He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

  Juliana lay in her own bed for the first night in close to a week. She didn’t sleep. Her eyes were wide open, staring out through the skylight into the night sky.

  She wished desperately that she had been able to make Webster understand. She’d planned out her life, and it all worked out very nicely for her without a husband. She was content here, with things exactly as they stood. And how many people could say that they were really, honestly content?

  So why did she feel so unhappy?

  And why did she miss Webster so much?

  He’s only downstairs, she told herself, trying to dismiss it. She’d see him tomorrow.

  Except he was going to leave, and she’d never see him again. All or nothing, he’d said.

  All or nothing.

  Both prospects scared her to death.

  If Alicia were here, she would recommend something she called “the rocking chair test.” “Pretend that you’re one hundred years old,” Alicia would say, “and you’re sitting out on your front porch in a rocking chair. Now think back on your life. What was it like? Do you have any regrets?”

  Juliana thought about spending the next seventy years without Webster, and she almost couldn’t breathe. It would be awful. She would learn to live without him; that much she knew. But memories of his face, his smile, the soft light in his eyes—those memories would haunt her throughout the years.

  And, yes, when she was one hundred years old, she certainly would regret having let him go.

  Now she closed her eyes, imagining herself sitting in that chair, and suddenly Webster was there, sitting beside her. His hair was a thick shock of white, and his face was lined, but his eyes were still the color of the sky, and his smile could still make her heart beat faster.

  She imagined a life married to him. She could picture him spending his days writing as she tended to the guests. She saw him sitting across from her at the dining table
, dressed in his Victorian suit, a dark lock of curls falling dashingly over his forehead. She could hear his voice and the voices of her guests calling her “Mrs. Donovan.” She could picture him up here in her apartment—their apartment—every night. Watching movies, working out, making love.…

  Winter, spring, summer and autumn, he’d be there all year long. She could picture them out in the yard, building a snowman with the … children? She could imagine them with children, Juliana realized with a start.

  She smiled, picturing sweet-faced babies and toddlers with curly black hair and deep-blue eyes.

  She could imagine her love for Webster growing stronger as the years went on. She could imagine standing by his side, his arm around her, her arm around him.

  She could imagine a happiness unlike any she’d ever known. And it would be happiness, not merely contentment.

  All or nothing, he’d said.

  Heaven help her, Juliana thought. She was going to marry him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The morning sky was overcast with heavy gray clouds. Juliana paused outside of Webster’s door, but there was no sound from within. Slowly, she turned the knob, pushed the door open, and peeked inside.

  The shades were drawn, and the room was dim. Webster lay fast asleep in the middle of his bed, one arm thrown up over his forehead. The blankets were a rumpled mess around him, as if he’d been tossing and turning.

  Juliana quietly backed out into the hall and closed the door. She’d let him sleep. She was feeling well enough to run out and pick up a load of firewood downtown, and she wanted to check in on Liz.

  She smiled. If Webster was still asleep when she got back, she’d wake him up.

  Webster stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. God almighty, he was hungover. This was what he got for staying in a house where all they had to drink was brandy. A hangover from drinking too much brandy was much nastier than a good, clean beer hangover. Well, maybe not, but it sure seemed that way right now.

  Slowly he rinsed his face and brushed his teeth, and then went downstairs in search of coffee. He found a pot on the warmer and poured himself a cup.