Suddenly the room was quiet except for Eva's soft, muffled sobs.
"You see?" Stephen said, his gaze circling the stunned group. "It is foolish to go on blaming yourselves. It was an accident. Maybe it was everyone's fault, or maybe it was no one's fault. It makes no difference now."
Eva stopped sobbing, and Julie reached up a trembling hand to wipe the tears from her own cheeks.
"What Stephen says is true," Albert said slowly, recovering his composure. "We have all denied our memories of the accident for much too long. And now that we're united as a family, it doesn't hurt so much to remember it. Now that we have remembered it, maybe we're all ready to forgive ourselves."
"I agree," said Michael, who was deeply shaken.
Paul said thoughtfully, "It is time to know that whatever happened that night, we must all stop hating ourselves. We are a family. If you hate yourself, you are hating one of us. And to hate one of us is to hate us all."
"I don't like this talk of hating," Julie said. "We must love one another. That's why we are all here on earth, isn't it? To love?"
Stephen walked slowly to her side, and she lifted her eyes to his. Her features had relaxed, and she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. His eyes bored into hers.
"Yes, Juliana," he said gently. "That is why we have one another. To love." And he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
Chapter 13
The air on this late August day seemed lit with sunshine, and Julie, on her way back to the farmhouse from the mailbox at the road, stuffed the few envelopes in the back pocket of her shorts and ran through the meadow toward the brook. The Andrassy family had arrived back at the farm from the mountain house two weeks ago, and she and Nonna were leaving the next day for home. Julie wanted to bid a quick farewell to the brook where she and Stephen had first had a serious conversation. It was, more than any other, the place where they had begun to reach out to each other.
The glade beside the stream was shadowed and quiet, and she was surprised when a figure detached itself from the rocks and strode toward her, resplendent in white shorts and shirt against a deep tan. Stephen caught her in his arms and kissed her on the mouth.
She laughed up at him. "There's no telling where you'll turn up!" she teased. "How did you know I would be here?"
"I didn't, but I would have made sure you got here eventually," Stephen said. "And I will keep 'turning up,' as you so charmingly put it, the rest of your life, if you will let me."
Her expression darkened as she pulled away. "Not now, Stephen," she said. "I want to remember our last day here as a day of happiness."
He dropped a kiss on the side of her neck and led her to the flat rock where they had sat before.
"This should be a day to live in our memories, and we should have time to ourselves. That is why I have brought our lunch," he said, indicating a basket.
"Stephen!" She was touched.
"You are not to do a thing. You must sit down and let me take care of this." Julie sat, and he knelt beside her, energetically beginning to removing things from the basket and setting them on a linen tablecloth that he had spread on the rock.
Julie leaned back on her hands, let her head fall back, and gazed up at the feathery branches overhead. The air was redolent with the scent of green moss, and the creek water glittered and gurgled between flat brown rocks. When she looked at Stephen, his face was spangled with green-and-gold light.
"I hope you like strawberries," he said, setting them out in a glass bowl.
"Why, yes," she replied in surprise.
"There I was in the grocery store buying the food for this picnic, and I had to stop and think, 'Does Juliana like strawberries?' I have so many things to learn about you." He smiled at her and produced two stemmed crystal glasses from the basket. A champagne bottle followed, and Stephen secured it between two rocks in the stream.
"You've thought of everything," she marveled when she saw the curried chicken salad delectably served in hollowed brioches. "Surely you didn't do all this yourself?"
"But of course I did. You see? You have much to learn about me, too." Stephen grinned at her and dipped a strawberry in powdered sugar. "Open your mouth," he commanded, and when she did, he popped the strawberry into it.
Julie's teeth bit down until the juice ran down her chin. Stephen, his eyes suddenly soulful, bent over and kissed it away. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck.
"This is very nice," he murmured lazily in her ear. "But will you look at what is happening to our champagne?"
The bottle had dislodged from its place between the rocks and was threatening to float downstream. Stephen made a wild grab for it and slid sideways until he was half in, half out of the water. Julie instinctively reached for him, lost her balance and tumbled past him to land right side up in the shallow stream, its pebbles smooth against her legs.
She laughed up at Stephen. "Care to join me?" she asked jokingly, holding out her hand. She was completely surprised when he let go of the rock on which he had a firm grip and slid down into the water beside her.
At her startled look, he only laughed. "I was already half in anyway," he offered in explanation.
"And it's a hot day," she said, because the water felt good against her skin. Then she giggled at the idea of the two of them, sitting waist deep in clear water and carrying on a perfectly normal conversation.
"If the water were deep enough, I would like to swim," Stephen said, lounging backward.
"We could wade," Julie suggested, watching minnows dart past Stephen's legs.
"What is this 'wade'?"
"It means walking in the shallow water."
"Ah. Barely getting one's feet wet."
"Yes."
"I would not care much for wading. When I do something, I must do it all the way."
"Like walking the wire," she said.
"Yes. I must do all of it and I must be the best. And I am that way in love, Juliana. When I love, I must love you completely, and it must be the best."
"Stephen, I—"
"I know. You cannot be sure yet. But I want you to know that when you are sure, I will be waiting for you."
Did she love him enough? Was love a trembling inside when a man kissed strawberry juice off your chin? Was it the sense of pleasure she felt when she saw Stephen sitting at the Andrassy dinner table, completely at ease with her family? Was it the tender longing for him that she felt when they were apart, and was it the peaceful, exhausted sense of completion she felt after their lovemaking? Was it all of these things or none of them? Would what she felt for Stephen be strong enough to endure through everything she would have to endure if she were his wife?
"Why are we sitting here?" she asked, blinking her eyes against the sudden piercing sunbeam that managed to penetrate the leaves above.
Stephen wrapped his arms around her and kissed her lingeringly on the corner of her mouth.
"Because we fell—in the water and in love. Come on, my little water nymph," and he kept his arms around her as he pulled her to a standing position. They stood holding each other for a long time, the water eddying around their ankles.
"I almost forgot," Stephen said suddenly. He released her and reached into a shirt pocket. "I have brought you something so you won't forget me and what you're supposed to be thinking about."
"I would never—" Julie began before she spotted the tiny gold star twinkling in the palm of his hand.
"Here, let me fasten it around your neck."
"Let me see it first," she breathed, her fingers capturing it as it dangled on its chain. The star had five points, one of them tipped with a diamond. The necklace was dainty and lovely and, to Julie's mind, an utterly extravagant gesture.
"I can't accept this," she said slowly.
"Of course you can." Stephen reached around her neck and clasped the chain. The chain was so long that the star dangled in the hollow between her breasts. She looked down at it and touched the diamond experimentally.
"It's beautiful."
"Remember, I told you that my destiny was to touch the stars. In asking you to share my life, I am asking you to touch the stars, too."
"I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think." She lifted her wide, dark eyes to his.
"I think we'd better get out of this water. So I won't get cold feet," Stephen said, and they smiled at his joke as Stephen climbed on the nearest rock and pulled Julie after him. She instinctively reached for the little gold star; she had a feeling that she was going to be reaching for it often in the next few months.
"What is that sticking out of your back pocket?" Stephen asked curiously.
"Oh, my gosh—it's the mail!" Julie withdrew several soggy envelopes, and Stephen grinned.
"I hope they are nothing important."
"A circular from the Lion and Lamb Grocery, something addressed to 'Box Holder,' and a postcard for Nonna." Julie spread the waterlogged mail to dry on a rock that was more sunny than most.
They ate greedily, their hands meeting as often as possible, and their lips touching, too, from time to time. Their voices were murmurs; they said things that no one else would understand, and the light in their eyes flared and sparked and danced in willing intimacy.
When it was time for them to go, Julie gathered the dry mail and Stephen folded the tablecloth. They spared one last glance for their quiet glade.
"I will always remember this spot," Stephen said fondly. "Perhaps one day we will return here with our children and show them the place where you and I first became friends."
"Maybe," Julie hedged as her fingers sought the star on the chain around her neck, but she didn't know yet. She just didn't know.
* * *
There were no sad goodbyes. Between Julie and Stephen there was only a gentle leave-taking the night before. Neither of them wanted to remember the other in sadness. They had both known too much of that in their lives already.
"You have much to think about, Juliana, while we are apart. I will be thinking of you, too, every day. When can I expect an answer, my dearest? When will you tell me if you will marry me?"
"At Christmas," Julie said, because they were all going to gather in Venice for the winter holidays. "I will let you know then."
Stephen knew not to push. He didn't want to disturb the fragile peace she had made with herself. He would wait for her with longing, but he would wait for her, and he hoped that when they met again, their meeting would be a true celebration.
Back in Venice, Julie plunged into work at the gym. Molly, her pupil with the broken leg, was still ailing. Worse, she seemed to have lost interest in gymnastics.
"See my pictures?" Molly said on the day when Julie stopped by her house to visit her. "I've taken up painting. I'm pretty good, too."
"We were at our wit's end to keep Molly occupied," Molly's mother said from the doorway of her room. "Finally, I bought her some acrylic paints, and she plunged right in."
"Your work is very good," Julie said, turning slowly so that she could take them all in. Paintings graced the walls and were propped on Molly's dresser. Some occupied the chair, and more were strung along the baseboards.
"Molly's always been a talented artist," her mother explained.
"I never had time to paint before. Guess what, Julie, I'm entering my work in the city recreation department's show. I might even win a prize!"
Molly was proud of her paintings, and Julie was happy for her. Still, it was with a feeling of foreboding that she left Molly's house. Her student hadn't mentioned gymnastics once during her whole visit, and her mother confided that Molly had a boyfriend.
At the gym Julie found herself at loose ends without Molly to coach. Working there simply wasn't fun. Her boss assigned her to a preschool class, but Julie found teaching four-year-olds how to do proper somersaults less than inspiring.
Life at home was difficult, too. Nonna had grown used to having Sam and Eric and Mickey and Tonia around. She missed them, and she expected Julie to spend more time with her to fill the lonely hours.
Julie often came home at night to find Nonna playing the local rock station at full blast on the radio. The first thing Julie did upon entering the house was turn the volume down. Nonna always turned it up again.
"I got used to it being loud when Sam and Eric played their music," Nonna explained.
Reasoning that Nonna might be hard of hearing, Julie went into her room and shut the door, which made Nonna irritable.
"Claire and I used to sit and crochet together," Nonna said petulantly when Julie emerged later. "Maybe I could teach you to crochet. Would you like to learn?"
But Julie crocheted like a person with six thumbs, and she finally gave it up. Before she had the good sense to throw in the crochet hook, Julie thought she'd go mad with the utter perverseness little loops of yarn and with the bone-shaking volume of Nonna's music as they worked. Julie would have spent more time at the gym, but there was nothing to keep her there.
Claire's name crept into the conversation at odd times. It was, "Claire used to heat the butter and the milk together when she mashed the potatoes, not throw it all in at once like you do," or "Claire used to watch the Today show with me every morning." Julie bore such gibes with outward fortitude, but inwardly she despaired. She was doing the best she could for Nonna, and it wasn't enough anymore.
Julie missed Stephen: his blue eyes, sparkling at her in the morning before the troupe set out across the meadow to practice; his feather-light touch at the back of her neck; his interest in everything about her. After living in the same house with Stephen for so long, Julie kept expecting him to round a corner or to burst laughing through the front door. At such times, the gold star between her breasts hung like a dead weight, reminding her of nothing so much as Stephen's absence. At night she wrapped her arms around herself in her loneliness, trying to relive every precious moment they'd spent together.
Stephen texted her many times a day. She texted back. They talked on the phone often. He never pressured her about marriage but confined his conversation to general topics. He told her how practice was going, and he relayed the funny things Mickey and Tonia said. He reported on Claire's efforts to redecorate the living room. Stephen was her link to the family she loved.
Before they hung up, Stephen would always say, "I love you, my Juliana," and she would reply with a heartfelt, "I love you, too." Yet nothing was resolved.
Julie went for long walks in the neighborhood after dark, pondering the inevitable question, What kind of life would we have together?
Stephen was undoubtedly good husband material. He had proven himself to be kind, caring and considerate. He was good with children. He could provide well for her. He liked her family and, in fact, considered himself a member of it.
But he walked the wire.
What good would it do to have a kind, caring, considerate, loving husband who loved their children and provided for all of them if he could fall from the wire at any time and die? It was a harsh question to ask herself. But it had to be asked.
She asked it over and over and over again.
Paul called Nonna one evening, and Nonna responded with more animation than Julie had seen her display since they left the farm.
"Mickey lost a front tooth? And Eric has a girlfriend? What is her name?"
This went on for half an hour before Nonna handed the telephone to Julie and wandered pensively to her bedroom, looking as though she'd lost her best friend.
"Paul?"
"Julie! How's my favorite cousin?"
"Fair to middling," Julie said.
"That's not good enough. Say, what's happened to you and Nonna? You both sound a little down."
"I've had bad news, Paul. My gymnast, the one who was Olympic material, has decided to give up gymnastics."
"Bummer. What happened?"
"She's become more interested in art and boys, not necessarily in that order. Without Molly, I'm going to be very bored."
"That's a shame."
&
nbsp; "I know." Julie sighed.
"Julie, how's Nonna?"
Julie glanced to see if Nonna's bedroom door was closed. It was.
"She seems sad since we got back from the farm. It's lonely in the house with me gone all day."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. There's no reason for you to feel that you have to be the only one to take care of Nonna, Julie. You need to make a life for yourself, and Claire and I want to help. We enjoyed having Nonna here this summer—she was great company for Claire. And Claire's an R.N., so she can manage Nonna's medication and doctor appointments. If she wants to, Nonna can come and live with us."
"Live with you?"
"Sure. We have lots of room, and once the performing troupe leaves, it's going to be much too quiet around this big house."
"Have you spoken to Nonna about this?"
"I wanted to check with you first to make sure I wouldn't be stepping on your toes."
"Why no, I—"
"And another thing, Julie. If Nonna were with us, it would leave you free to marry Stephen. It's an open secret within the family that you love each other."
"There are other considerations, Paul," Julie said, feeling faintly embarrassed, though she didn't know why.
"Yeah, but the guy's crazy about you. You're crazy about him. Nothing else is as important as those two facts."
"I'd live in fear for him," Julie said faintly.
"You managed all right at Tallulah Gorge. After that, everything's got to be easy. Hey, listen, kid. Did your big cousin Paul ever give you bad advice?"
Julie smiled into the phone. "Once you told me no one would ever know if we ate two big packages of Mallomars cookies. And they found out because I was sick to my stomach all night."
Paul laughed heartily. Then he became serious.
Touch the Stars Page 16
