“Jace and I will be there, too.”
“You’d better be.”
“Front row, I promise.” She flashed him a smile, then her face fell serious. “I owe you so much, Scotty.”
“Nah, I’m just a sucker for love.”
“You’re a wonderful friend, you know?”
He shrugged. “If you say so, gal. See you in a week.”
She went to her parents, taking a seat in between them and turning first to her father.
“I’ve asked Cassie to watch you like a hawk,” she told him. “I want you to take it easy.”
Her mother laughed. “With Roberta as his nurse, there’s nothing to fear.”
“That’s little comfort, Mother,” Julianna said over her shoulder. “You ignored every order she gave.”
“True,” her mother said proudly.
Returning to her father, Julianna said, “I’m glad you decided not to sell the bank. I don’t think you’re ready to let it go.”
“No reason to sell it,” he said as he looked toward Fletcher, who was standing across the patio with Virginia. “Not when I’ve got Valentine to operate it for me.”
“We’re going to start traveling,” her mother said, “as soon as your father is completely well, and our first trip will be to Ambrose Point.”
“We’ll have your room ready.”
“I hear the restaurants are very good.”
“The ocean is . . .” Julianna stopped, knowing that she and her mother were only stirring up small talk to delay the inevitable. “Oh, Mother, we could sit here all day doing this.”
“Then why don’t we?” Her mother snatched a cloth napkin and dabbed her eyes.
“Because . . .” Julianna looked at Jace, standing at the edge of the patio holding Mari.
Where thou goest, I will follow.
She put one arm around her mother and the other around her father, then drew both into a tight embrace. None of them said a word, but then they really didn’t need to.
Julianna knew, sometimes love doesn’t need words to make itself known.
This time of year, Ambrose Point was beautiful in its desertion, the saffron beaches quiet and clean, knowing only the touch of the tide. The lighthouse towered above the shore, its beacon competing with the moon in brightness as it brought light to a raven sky.
The bungalow welcomed them home, feeling safe and warm. Tucker had removed the boards, then he and his sister swept the plank floors and dusted the furniture, freshened the bedding and placed a crib in the sunniest bedroom.
I always knew I’d be back.
Julianna stood in the parlor, hugging herself as she looked around the familiar room. She could hear Jace in Mari’s bedroom, trying to get her to sleep, reading to her from his collection of newspaper clippings that saluted Babe Ruth.
Oh, it felt right, it felt good to be back in this house. She went to the front window and looked toward the ocean, knowing that now, at last, the tide had come in for her and Jace.
The overhead light switched off, and she knew he was in the room. He came up behind her and slipped his hands around her waist, his face nuzzling her hair. She relaxed against him and closed her eyes, anticipating the reunion they had saved until tonight. Waiting had been hard, but they knew there was only one place worthy of such expression.
She sighed and trembled as he kissed her neck and shoulders, his hands pushing her collar away from her skin. She turned in his arms so their lips could meet. With great abandon, they kissed and caressed before the sea, until Julianna pulled away, breathless, and said, “It’s been so long.”
“You’re telling that to me? Former inmate 12904?”
He swept her up into his arms and carried her to their room, her hair fanning across the pillow when he laid her on the bed. His name tumbled from her lips as he began a slow and savory quest to rediscover her silken skin. United, they moved like reeds dancing in the wind, absorbed by a passion that was too big to be contained, one that nearly drove them mad and rocked the room around them.
It left them both dazed, and Julianna heard nothing but the pounding of her heart. She concentrated on it, letting it be the beacon that led her from the haze and back to the room, where Jace rested atop her, his breathing slowing to its normal rhythm.
“I love you,” he whispered as her hands lightly stroked his back.
“I love you, too,” she said, a warm flash suddenly racing through her. It was that golden shooting star shimmering across her nerves—something she couldn’t name but had felt once before after making love with Jace.
“I know what it is,” she said suddenly, thinking out loud.
“Hmm?” He lifted his face from her neck.
She cupped his face in her hands. “You just got me pregnant.”
“Yeah?” He smiled into her eyes, the same disarming smile that had changed her life almost two years ago. “Good,” he said, taking a deep breath and moving to her side. “Mari will need someone to boss around.”
She raised his hand and played with the gold wedding band he wore. “You told me once—right before you turned yourself in—that there would be a better time for us.”
“I always believed that.”
Listening to the waves, they drifted into a peaceful sleep, knowing that the better time was upon them.
Julianna was on the beach early the next morning. Night and day were still surrendering to one another, the sky was a stunning tapestry of topaz and burgundy.
She watched the water roll toward her.
The screen door slammed behind her. She knew without looking that Jace was coming to join her. And when he did, when he took his place beside her, she finally felt it. The tide, swirling about their ankles.
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.”
“Shakespeare?”
“Robert Browning.”
A serene smile crossed her face as he pulled her back against his chest.
“You seem happy,” he said, resting his chin atop her head. “The tide is in.”
She turned away from the water and found Jace’s eyes.
EPILOGUE
1963
Julianna settled into the wooden Adirondack chair and lifted her face to the May sunlight. She was fifty today. Fifty, and the change of life was upon her. Would she turn back time if she could? No, for to chisel her age would be to diminish her life. She wouldn’t exchange a hundred hot flashes if it meant giving up one pleasant memory.
The deck she sat on was part of the original house in Ambrose Point. They had built on, out and up, turning it into a magnificent seaside home that was ever protected by the lighthouse that still oversaw the coast.
Virginia lounged beside her, a Hawaiian-print sarong covering her legs and a wide-brimmed hat shading her face. “How does it feel to be fifty? Is your eyesight worse today than it was yesterday?”
Julianna pushed her sunglasses back on her head, where they rested on her golden-brown pageboy. “In some ways, I see better at fifty than I did at twenty. The benefits of experience, you know? By the way, you’re too sweet to fly in for my party.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Besides, at forty-nine, I get around better than you do, so it’s much easier for me to travel,” Virginia said with a wink. “Truthfully, sweets, being fifty only means that you’re twice as fabulous as you were at twenty-five. And honestly, wouldn’t you rather be fifty and happy with where you are than be twenty-five . . . and pregnant?”
Julianna laughed. “Ah, the wisdom of maturity.”
Virginia grabbed for her hat as the wind tried to snatch it from her head. “Oh, I thought I had life all figured out back when we were doing Blair Burkett, but now I know there is one major pitfall to being a spring chicken.”
“What’s that?”
“Spring chickens can’t fly.”
Again, Julianna laughed. “I don’t think chickens can fly at all, can they?”
“My point, sweets, i
s that only a bird who has done some living and loving knows what to do with her wings.”
“Amen,” Julianna said, raising her glass of iced tea and inviting Virginia to join her in a toast. “And speaking of flying, you came so far to be with me today. It means more than you know, Virginia.”
As she spoke, Julianna’s mind returned to 1938, when Blair Burkett went national and the show was relocated to New York City. The sponsor’s advertising agency took over the scriptwriting, forcing a break in the compatible team of Julianna and Virginia. At first, Virginia balked at their parting of ways, but Julianna had been ready, her heart being pulled toward a cause that had so influenced her life.
That same year, the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis was established, and its first fundraiser was the March of Dimes. It seemed as though everyone sent a dime to Washington, the collective effort raising millions of dollars to help battle polio. Julianna led the drive in Ambrose Point then established efforts up the coast, eventually overseeing an entire region of chapters.
Blair Burkett didn’t make the transition from radio to television, but Virginia did, moving to Hollywood, where she exploded as a comedic actress. Virginia Valentine—Vee Vee to the fans who loved her—starred in her own sitcom, her career managed by her forever-loyal Fletchie, who had left the bank and followed his wife across the country. They lived on the Santa Monica coast and had one son—Sonny Fletch, they called him—who was brighthaired and fiery like Virginia. He skipped school to go surfing, drove a Woodie, and adored his vivacious mother.
Virginia cupped her hand against the wind and lit a cigarette. “I saw the roses when I came through the house,” she said. “Can’t imagine who sent them.”
“Scotty,” Julianna said fondly, wishing he had made the party. “Fifty roses for fifty years.”
“I remember the first rose he ever gave you,” Virginia said. “It was the night Blair debuted.”
“How different life was back then,” Julianna recalled. Though she wondered where the time had gone, she was glad that it had, glad that she was where she was now instead of where she had been then. Again, she wished Scotty was here for the party, but obligations kept him in New York City. He had been there for twenty years, always making music in concert halls and recording studios, his style adapting to current trends. He had finally found the girl who craved his lifestyle and married her right after he returned from World War II.
“Oh, these balloons!” Julianna’s mother fretted as she stepped through the sliding glass door and onto the deck. “They simply won’t cooperate, thanks to the sea breeze.” She went to the table in the middle of the deck, the one she was setting up for Julianna’s birthday party. In her mid-seventies, she was still sprightly, still worried that her parties wouldn’t be up to par.
“You can’t tame the wind,” Julianna said to her mother.
Hands on hips, her mother watched the tablecloth whip up and over the plates on the table. “You’d think I would realize that by now.” She sighed as she took a seat next to Virginia. “I’ve only been living here for what—twenty years now?”
“Exactly.” Julianna smiled, recalling the day her parents closed on a quaint house not far from this one. The bank sold and her father finally retired in full. They had come to Ambrose Point, where he and Jace began weekly golf games. Her father had stopped calling his son-in-law McAllister, had appointed himself editor of Jace’s rough manuscripts, had cried the hardest the stormy morning Jace’s plane left for Germany and the horrors of war with Hitler.
And in turn, Jace cried the night her father’s war with cancer came to an end, five years ago this past February. Julianna knew her mother must still think about him every day and find herself missing the growls that sometimes came from the old bear. Yet, she told Julianna that she believed his spirit watched her, wanting her to be happy as she lived out her days in the house they had shared. She seemed content to putter about in her patio garden and visit with Julianna, watch her favorite television shows, and meet other widows for cards and gossip.
Julianna thought of her father, too, and all that had blossomed since the days at Dreamland. Reformed father and adult daughter, confidants and good friends. She truly missed him, along with the others who had left them throughout the years. Jimmy Mac and Chester, Tucker Moll, and . . .
Julianna bit her lip to push back the tears.
Cassie, her dear Cassie, who had moved to Heaven not quite one year ago today. Julianna gazed at the sky, vivid blue, so like the sky that had beckoned Cassie the day she died.
Sweet friend . . .
She had been a radio preacher for years, then traveled to tent revivals and camp meetings throughout the South, a missionary in her own land until her heart grew too tired. They brought her to Ambrose Point, where Julianna and her mother took turns caring for the woman who had cared for them, through sickness and childbirth, bad dreams and broken hearts.
She passed on in her sleep, but what she left them would never slumber. It was the memory of her faith, her powerful faith that uplifted hearts even when death opened the door to another dimension. For it was Cassie who taught them Heaven was full of riches, wonders that went beyond the grasp of the human mind. Death, she believed, was a temporary separation, and Heaven was only a prayer away, a place where loved ones waited and reunions were planned.
Oh, the sustaining power of such a faith! It was what allowed Julianna to rise every morning, to walk with a happy heart, to enjoy those who remained in her presence.
She got up from her chair and went to the edge of the deck. Looking down at the beach, she began to count her blessings, starting with Mari, who sat on a flowered beach towel in the warm sand, a transistor radio resting between her and her husband. Now twenty-seven, she was very Jackie Kennedy with her brunette flip and slender frame. The polio left her unaffected, but it had touched her heart forever; she was in her third year of pre-med when Jonas Salk discovered the life-saving polio vaccine. Today, Mari was nearing the end of medical school, hoping to research a cure for childhood leukemia.
Julianna moved farther down the beach, smiling with great contentment as her eyes rested upon her sons running through the surf and tossing an orange Frisbee between them. John and Daniel both carried their father’s dark good looks. John was twenty-five and had been born nine months to the day she and Jace returned to Ambrose Point. Daniel was three years younger. Neither was married yet, but both had heard the calling of the sea. Like Jace and the fathers who went before him, they wore the colors of the Navy, drawn to the temperamental waters.
Now she went to Meredith, kneeling in the wet sand, digging for small shells that she would use to make a necklace. With her long dark hair blowing in the wind, she so resembled the grandmother whose name she carried. At seventeen, she was their free spirit, passionate for civil rights and rock and roll.
And last, she smiled on little Cassandria, or Sandy for short. She had been the biggest surprise, the greatest joy, of Julianna’s mid-life and the golden child of Cassie, for whom she was named. Now six, Sandy was sweet and dreamy, Julianna’s pixie-sprite who twirled in the surf, white dress billowing in the wind and hair flowing like ribbons of honey.
Julianna’s eyes swept the beach, gathering them all into her heart. For a girl who once believed her life would be childless, she and Jace had not done too badly.
He joined her at the railing, leaning down and planting a kiss upon her neck.
“Happy birthday, young lady,” he whispered as his arms encircled her waist.
She leaned against him but tilted her head so that she could see his smile. He was salt and pepper now, and forever the beautiful man she had loved at first sight.
They had been back in Ambrose Point for twenty-six years. After that first night, their story had found its way out, proving to be phenomenal just as her father predicted. Most people treated them as an enchanting legend, while others considered them a strange curiosity. In time, the buzz settled and their life became their own,
their only celebrity attributed to Jace’s books, of which there were many. All were bestsellers, and one was made into a movie, its screenplay scripted from the first book he wrote after returning from war, where the intensity of his daily dramas weaved its way into his writing.
His eyes were on the ocean now. “We’ve been together so long, Julianna, but sometimes I’m still amazed that we’re here. A bank robber and a banker’s daughter. Who’d have believed it?”
“I guess our young hearts believed it,” she recalled. “Somehow, they made sense of everything.”
“The heart has its own rules and reasons, that’s for sure,” he said. “It’s always kind of reminded me of the ocean.”
“It’s a lot like the ocean,” she said. “Serenity, rage, and everything in between—it has the same feelings.” Enjoying the sun on her face, she breathed in the salty air. “And if it listens to the reason that drives it, whatever it is, it’ll head for the right shore.”
He rested his chin on the crown of her head. “The tide comes in.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, looking at the beach, eyes falling where she had stood so many mornings ago, when the sky was the color of jewels and wine. She had been watching the water like Meredith and Isabel, two women lonely for and missing what had once made their lives complete.
Jace had come to her that morning, joining her as the tide washed in upon the shore. She had looked away from the water, turning to find his eyes.
And she had never watched the water again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Donna Gentry Morton lives in the foothills of the North Georgia Mountains, a proud resident of the rural community of “Ducktown,” which is close enough to Atlanta to enjoy it, and far enough away to ignore it. Widowed from the love of her life, John, she strives to carry on as he would want her to, which includes enjoying time with their two sons and other close-knit family, her supportive circle of gal pals, and her menagerie of pets. She often writes with two parrots sitting on her shoulders.
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