She welcomed the chance to leave the house. To leave Nathan’s brooding; his promises that he’d talk soon. Footsteps banged down the stairs as she hung up the pile of raincoats and sweatshirts that had been flung over the banister.
“Where are we going this summer?” Max carried a rolled-up comic book. Lucas came up behind his brother. Lately they followed her like nervous toddlers.
Before answering, Juliette stuffed one last thing into her already overloaded bag: the latest issue of Allure, which touted juliette&gwynne’s all-natural mascara as an editor’s choice. Of course, the issue would have been delivered to the shop, actually three of them, but they usually lost at least two to overentitled customers who ripped out pages or even stole entire issues. Juliette’s copy was pristine and suitable for framing.
The mention in Allure would bring an avalanche of orders. Juliette should be flying high.
“April is barely over, and you’re worrying about summer?” Juliette tugged at the bag’s zipper. Each season, she bought a bigger bag, and then it became too small.
“Look at it another way,” Lucas said. “Summer is only two months from now. Dad would call it an example of the theory of relativity.”
“So are we going to Rhinebeck?” Max’s pajamas were too short in the arms. Juliette put buying new ones on her mental list.
“Guys, can we talk about this later? Are we having some sort of summer planning emergency? We always go to Rhinebeck.”
She and Gwynne alternated Saturdays in the shop, except during bridal and holiday season, when they both went in. Maybe she’d take the next few Saturdays for Gwynne.
“Is Dad coming?” Lucas tried to sound casual, but she could hear the strain. Fear, even. Why not? Nathan and Juliette passed each other in the hall like frosty college roommates putting up with each other until school let out. How could the boys not notice the tension?
“Look, I promise that we’ll talk about summer tonight, about when we’ll go to Rhinebeck, summer jobs, camp, the whole thing, okay? But later. I have to open the shop before women line the street.”
“Sure,” Lucas said. “Better go, Mom. Wrinkle emergency!”
“Dry skin alert!” Max jumped up and waved his hands as if alerting rescue personnel. Lucas picked up the theme. “Pimple crisis in Wellesley—news at eleven.”
Their jokes sounded forced, as though her sons needed to prove that everything was okay: see, we can make fun of Mom, just like usual! Juliette’s throat thickened.
“I love you both. Make Dad take you for haircuts.”
Max wrapped her in an unexpected bear hug. “I love you, Mom.”
“Love you.” Lucas leaned in and gave her an awkward pat on the back.
Juliette hugged Max back too tight and then kissed Lucas on the cheek. “Haircuts.”
• • •
Juliette opened the shop, locked the door behind her until the rest of the staff arrived, and carried her coffee back to her office. Coming in early meant she could . . . she could what? She didn’t know what she needed to do. What did you do when your life unraveled?
She took everything off her desk and piled it on the long, low cabinet to the side. The furniture polish she sprayed on the now empty desk filled the air with orange-scented chemicals. She compounded her ecoterrorism by grabbing paper towels instead of a cloth and wiped the hell out of the desk. One towel for spreading the polish. Fuck it. Another for wiping down the desk. Fuck Nathan. And then another to dry it. Fuck her.
Juliette wiped down her phone and placed it on the desk, using yet another paper towel. She lined up her stapler, her tape dispenser, and her in-and-out box, fiddling with everything until she’d achieved perfect order. Last she took the silver picture frame she’d received as a gift from Nathan’s mother the day they opened the shop.
“Family first,” Gizi had warned Juliette. “Never let your work be obscuring that.”
Be obscuring that. Nathan’s mother used sophisticated words in vaguely ungrammatical ways, but her English as a second language became a form of poetry.
Family first
Never let
Your work
Be
Obscuring
That.
The family picture was way out of date. Nathan held an infant Max as though he’d just won an Oscar. Nathan had been a wonderful father right from the start. In the beginning, when Juliette fretted about cutting Lucas’s infant fingernails, convinced she’d snip off a tip of his minute finger, Nathan did it without a word and continued quietly doing it until Juliette felt comfortable.
She scrolled through the list of good things about Nathan.
He was warm and kind. Most of the time.
He was smart.
He was interesting.
The physical side of their relationship had always been incredible, although that thought opened the door for unbearable questions.
He understood why her parents drove her crazy.
He knew how much she loved his parents.
He was Max’s and Lucas’s father.
She loved him.
She didn’t want to be without him.
Juliette replaced the frame and picked up her now sterilized phone. She looked over her orderly desk, calmed by the precision. The cleaner her workspace, the sharper her decisions—not always right, but fast. Bullet-paced decisions.
Juliette woke up her computer. She clicked into her address book and scrolled down the list until hitting F for Fitzgerald.
• • •
Juliette arrived first the following Saturday for her date with Caroline. The shabby appearance of the small Newton coffee shop calmed her. Stuffed chairs and old wood tables matched the dim lighting.
Despite the lunchtime hour, Juliette was too nervous to eat. On the phone, she’d told Caroline only that she had something important to discuss about Savannah. Reassuring Caroline that she had good intentions, while holding off on the truth, had been a tightrope of conversation. Juliette danced on the head of a lie as she intimated that she had information from her friend who’d adopted children.
Now Juliette realized that while she’d succeeded in convincing Caroline to show up, she’d not done a good job of thinking out her plan for this meeting.
Caroline walked in, looking around with a blank expression. When Juliette signaled her over, Caroline raised her hand in a tentative wave.
“Hi. Nice to see you again.” Caroline put a newspaper on the table and then pointed to Juliette’s coffee cup. “I’m going to get myself a coffee. Would you like another?”
“I’m fine.”
Juliette watched as Caroline walked away. Caroline wore no makeup. Not even the brown mascara that Juliette had promised Caroline would make her sparkle all by itself.
Is this what was wrong with her? That she thought about mascara at a time when her life was falling apart? Had Nathan found Tia because he needed a woman who wasn’t so shallow?
Caroline returned with a barely lightened coffee. “I must admit I’m quite anxious to hear why you wanted to talk—you sound nervous.”
Juliette tried to order her thoughts. How did you tell a story like this? Finally, she simply dove in and began talking. Caroline listened, taut and still, without comment, as Juliette related the history of how they all fit together. When Juliette finished, Caroline remained silent for a long, agonizing time. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded thin and reedy.
“This is insane.”
“I know it must sound that way.”
“So that’s why you sent me that invitation.” Caroline clenched the twisted napkin she held. “I suppose I was quite gullible. You must have thought me quite a fool.”
Caroline went back to silence. Juliette tried to read the undertones of her words. At this moment, Juliette didn’t know if Caroline wanted to kill her, quench her curiosity, or simply walk away in disgust. In her shoes, Juliette could never remain calm.
“Get the hell away from my family, and me!” Juliette would yell.
“What do you want? If you have anything to say, say it to my lawyer.”
“Did you mean anything you said?” Caroline asked. “When I was at your shop, were you telling the truth about having a friend who’d adopted her children?”
“That was true. I do have a friend whose kids are adopted, and she had a difficult time admitting to any moment of not loving motherhood.”
Caroline’s nod at Juliette’s answer seemed doubtful.
“What are you looking for?” Caroline asked. “Did your husband send you?”
Juliette tried to imagine Nathan sending her on a mission like this. “No. When you came to my shop, he didn’t even know about your daughter.”
“But he knows now?”
“Yes. Now he knows.”
“And he knew nothing about Savannah?”
“He knew about the pregnancy, but nothing after. At least, that’s what he told me.”
“Told you when?”
Juliette found it a bizarre relief to talk to Caroline; too many secrets knocked around Juliette’s head. One day Max would say he wanted toast, and Juliette would spill out, “You have a half sister, Max, so please, would you stop whining about toast!”
She told almost everything, censoring only the parts that made her sound crazy. Like stalking Tia and carrying Savannah’s picture everywhere she went.
“You haven’t spoken with your husband about this since you confronted him?” Caroline asked when Juliette’s torrent of words finally stopped.
“No.”
“Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
“This will sound false, disingenuous, but honestly, I’m not sure.”
“I’ve always thought when someone said ‘honestly’ in a sentence, they were lying, or at the very least, suspect. Are you?”
“Lying or suspect?” Juliette asked.
“Either.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t know what I want. But maybe I am suspect, because there are things running through my head which you may not like.”
“Such as what?”
“Such as thinking Savannah should somehow know my family. She has wonderful grandparents who’d give an arm and a leg to hold her. Nathan is their only child, and they’ve done everything possible for our sons since they were born. I think of that each time I look at her picture.”
Caroline sat so straight that there might have been rods inserted in her back. “Savannah already has wonderful grandparents who love her.”
“Of course.” Juliette realized she’d revealed too much. “Please, please don’t think I’m suggesting that I expect anything from you or your family.”
Caroline laced her fingers and brought her knotted fists to her chest. “Something drove you here. Like something drove you to have to meet Savannah and me. Either you aren’t sure what it is or you aren’t telling me the truth. Which is it?”
Juliette was sorry she’d come.
“Are you trying to get Savannah?” Caroline leaned forward like a hawk studying a hummingbird. “You and your husband?”
“God, no! Nathan would go insane if he even knew I was here.”
“Then what is it you want?”
“I . . . ” Juliette wondered what to say, what was her truth? “I love my husband,” she said.
“Love brings you here?” Caroline crossed her arms over her chest.
“No. Of course not. That sounds crazy.”
Caroline tipped her head to the side. “You want to tie yourself to her.” She spoke slowly, analyzing Juliette in a manner that made her want to run away. “What are you looking for?”
Exhaustion overcame Juliette. She had to go home. Climb into bed. “Honestly? I simply don’t know.”
CHAPTER 19
Juliette
Juliette’s heels clicked as she paced outside the restaurant, watching for Nathan’s car, each tap another impatient demand to see him arrive.
After leaving Caroline, she’d driven back to the shop and almost hidden away to keep from confessing to Gwynne that she’d met with Caroline. Disaster watcher Gwynne would be alert to all the possible problems Juliette might have wrought with her visit. Lawsuits! Restraining orders! End of marriage! Gwynne lived each day waiting for something awful to happen. Juliette swore that her friend kept a pressed black dress ready for funerals at all times.
Caroline had asked her what she wanted. Juliette hadn’t lied when she said she didn’t know. She knew it was wrong that Nathan’s daughter was out there and they didn’t know her, and yet it also drove her crazy that Nathan might get to know her.
What if Nathan had come to her when he’d found out that Tia was pregnant? Would she have opened her heart to the baby?
Juliette had picked this restaurant for its stuffy atmosphere, hoping the mahogany-lined walls and deep carpet might muffle Nathan’s expected outburst. He arrived noticeably nervous, looking hopeful and dressed for an occasion. Like perhaps this was to be their fresh start—the one for which he kept asking.
• • •
“Have you gone completely nuts?” Nathan dropped his fork on his plate, the clink enough of a disturbance to attract the attention of the diners at the next table. “You went to see the child’s mother?”
“Nathan, we can’t close our eyes to the situation.”
“There is no situation. The child has a mother and a father—and from what you’ve said, damned good ones.”
“No. Something is wrong, I can feel it.”
“A doctor and a businessman living in Dover? Money? Education? What’s their sin? Are they secret child molesters?”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
The busboy came over to clear their salad plates. The three of them played the game of civilized folk as the young man brushed crumbs from the white tablecloth.
The overly hair-gelled waiter placed a steak before Nathan and gave Juliette her salmon. She’d refused the potatoes, hoping the sacrifice would bring her luck.
If she took just one of Nathan’s steak fries, would the spell break? Would the luck fairy give a damn about one fry?
The waiter left. Juliette dug into her green beans.
“I’m sorry,” Nathan said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t joke about this.”
She would never eat potatoes again.
“It’s just that I’m confused. Hell, confused doesn’t even begin to encompass what I’m feeling.” Nathan opened his hands in a gesture that implored her to listen. “I love you. I love the boys. I love our family.”
“I know. Even as I wonder how you could, how you could do what you did, I know you love us.” Juliette cut off a piece of salmon with her fork. “I simply don’t know if I can trust you. Not if you could keep such a major thing like . . . like a child from me.” How did one even describe a relationship such as the one he’d never shared? A pregnancy? A daughter?
“I want to rebuild your trust.”
“You can start by talking about Savannah.”
“How will that help?” Nathan dipped a steak fry in a pool of ketchup. “This is about us.”
“And she is connected to us.”
“I just don’t see how.”
Again, he made his pleading hands, only this time a fry swung from one. Juliette snatched it from his hand and shoved it into her mouth.
This man was unhinging her.
“Take whatever you want.” Nathan pushed his plate toward her.
“See, see, that’s what I mean.”
“What? You wanted it, right?”
“You’re always offering the wrong thing.”
Nathan looked confused. Hurt.
Jerk.
“How did we get here?” Juliette asked.
“I brought us here.”
“Did I push you? Did I push you away?”
“Thanks for the out, but I can’t put any of this on you.”
“Then why?” Juliette shoved her plate away.
“Maybe I was just greedy.”
Juliette thought of how N
athan tore through books, and meat, and even television episodes. They’d get a DVD of some cable TV series he’d never seen, like Curb Your Enthusiasm, and then he’d make her watch two, three, four—the entire series—until it was two in the morning. Was that what he did with women? Was Tia an episode that Nathan had gobbled?
“How can I know you won’t get greedy again?”
“I’m asking for faith. I’ve never lied to you since the affair. Can you believe me when I say I know how much I hurt you?”
He knew her. He knew she wanted to believe.
“I want to be first in your heart,” Juliette said.
“Don’t you know you always are, have always been?”
“First and only. No understudy.”
“Of course.”
Juliette smiled without mirth. “Don’t look at me as though you’ve just won the war.”
“Really? We’re in battle?” he asked.
“We’re battling for our marriage. Or not. We can’t pretend the child doesn’t exist.” Juliette saw his eyes open up, appearing to have let Savannah in for a moment. “Your parents. What if they ever knew that we’d kept this from them?”
Nathan pulled the wine from the bucket next to the table and refilled his glass, the waiter rushing over as he did. Nathan held a hand out to keep him from the table.
“How can you allow a child to think her birth father didn’t want her?” Juliette held out her glass. “How can you not want her?”
“I just don’t have answers yet. This is all new to me.”
“She told you, right? That she was pregnant. So it’s not really all new.”
“Yes. But I was more worried about us than anything else.”
Juliette shook her head. “Forget then, talk about now.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
Juliette opened her purse and pulled out Savannah’s picture. She slid it across the table. “Look at her. Really look.”
Nathan took the photograph that Juliette had sealed in a pliable plastic frame. Nathan’s hand shook. He bit his lower lip.
The Comfort of Lies: A Novel Page 17
