“And the man you had an affair with?” Andy asked. “Where was he living?”
“In a lousy efficiency near Logan Square,” she said. “I was supporting him with money I’d inherited from my grandparents. When that ran out, the relationship was over.” She tried not to sound bitter.
“What’s his name?” asked Gabby.
“Jesse Vaughn.”
“And where is he now?”
“No idea. And I have no desire to know.”
“Fair enough.” Andy made a note on his legal pad and sat back. “What about right now? Are you seeing anyone?”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Is that germane?”
Andy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just trying to make sure we don’t get surprised.”
Julia weighed her answer for a moment. Finally, she said, “No. I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
~
It got easier after lunch. Andy and Gabby counseled her on what to wear on the stand, how to behave, and what to say if she didn’t know the answer to a question. “It’s okay to say you don’t know,” Andy said, “and, in fact, it’s far preferable to making some off-the-cuff response that gives the other side an opening.”
“Okay.”
“It’s possible that we could get you in and out in one day,” Andy went on. “That’s certainly what I’ll be pushing for. But there’s a good possibility that you may be called to testify on separate days, and those days could be months apart. This case has a lot of technical aspects to it, as you know. The prosecution is going to have to explain to the jury its theory of how your ex-husband cooked his books. It’s a fairly convoluted setup, as I understand it, and it’s going to take some time for them to lay it all out for the jurors.”
“Right,” she said, and sighed. “Leave it to Lance to complicate everything.”
Andy gave her a sympathetic smile.
“How soon do you think I’ll be called?” she asked.
Andy glanced at Gabby, who sat up straighter. “We expect that jury selection will take about a week,” she said. “We’re anticipating that the prosecution will either call you within the first couple of days, or they’ll wait until just before they’re ready to rest their case.”
“So either a couple of weeks from now, or a month or more,” she said.
“Right. And we’ll be pushing for the later date. That’s our best strategy to avoid your having to show up on separate days.”
She sighed. “Okay. I guess that makes sense.”
“It’s not going to be as bad as you think,” Andy said. “If the prosecution starts asking you a bunch of questions about your book, use the analogy to a runner’s high that you told us earlier. I thought that worked really well.”
Gabby nodded. “I agree. People can relate to it.”
They wrapped up shortly thereafter, with Gabby promising she would call as soon as they got their hands on the witness list.
Andy walked her out to the lobby. As they shook hands, Julia noticed Andy looking past her shoulder to the waiting area. She turned, and her stomach hit the floor; Dave was approaching them.
“I didn’t expect you to be here,” she said.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said. He held out his hand to Andy. “David Turner.”
“Andy Kessler.” The men shook hands as Andy looked a question at Julia.
“Dave is a very old friend,” she said quickly, stressing the word friend. “We’ve known each other since we were children. He’s been kind enough to invite me to stay overnight with him and his family.”
“A good friend to have,” Andy said. “Nice to meet you, David. Julia, we’ll be in touch.” He shook her hand and went back inside.
She sucked in a breath and looked askance at Dave. He shrugged, and she rolled her eyes at him. Then he took her by the elbow. “Come on. We need to get the kids. They’re all fired up to see you.”
“I really do need to get home tonight,” she said, stepping back a pace.
“Bullshit,” he said, so harshly that she froze. He softened his tone. “Look. I know we need to talk, but I don’t want to do it here.” He glanced at his phone. “We’ve got about half an hour before I need to pick up the kids from Angie. Let’s take a walk.” With one hand on the small of her back, he steered her out the brass-and-glass double doors and onto the street.
It was late afternoon; the streets were clogged with commuters and the sidewalks were already in shadow. She and Dave strolled the few blocks to Millennium Park, stopping far enough from the Bean to avoid the throngs of tourists admiring their reflections in its curved surface.
“You stole my line, you know,” she said lightly. At his questioning look, she said, “It’s the woman who’s supposed to say, ‘We need to talk.’”
He spread his hands and grinned sheepishly. “What can I say?”
Julia’s eyes traveled over his face, as if she were etching it into her memory. “So,” she said.
“So,” he said, and paused. “I think I know why I got the cold shoulder from you last weekend.”
“I didn’t give you the cold shoulder!”
“Yeah, you did. And I don’t blame you.” His eyes pleaded with her for understanding. “I’ve put you in an awful situation. I’m sorry.”
“You’re the one in an awful situation,” she said quietly. “I’m just collateral damage.”
He winced at that.
“You’re not going to leave her, are you?” She said it quickly, afraid that if she considered her words, she would never get them out at all.
His silence told her everything she needed to know.
“I have a train to catch,” she said.
“Julia,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her arm.
“Look, Dave,” she said, “I’m not interested in being your mistress.” He winced again, but she refused to mince words. “Don’t give me that look. That’s what it’s called. I ought to know by now.” Her tone was bitter, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m done with subterfuge. I’ve seen what happens when a marriage ends, and I don’t wish it on anyone. Especially you.” Her voice caught, but she plowed on. “And I don’t want to be the reason that your marriage fails.”
“You’re not,” he said. “It’s already failing.”
“But I don’t want your divorce on my conscience,” she said. “I love you, Dave, and I want to be with you. But I’m not going to go behind anybody’s back to do it.” She took a step back. “No more living in the shadows for me. I’m done.”
He nodded, looking at the sidewalk. “Okay,” he said, although whether in acquiescence or simply in acknowledgement, she couldn’t tell.
After a pause, he looked up. “Will you stay with us tonight anyway? I told the kids you were coming over, and I hate to disappoint them. They really were excited about seeing you. I wasn’t kidding about that.” He grinned endearingly. “Randi wants you to sleep in her room. And Ritchie’s still talking how you didn’t yell at him for blowing on his soup.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “They’re great kids.”
“So you’re coming?” he asked hopefully.
She waited a beat before asking, “How’s Nina?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “There’s nothing new to say. The doctor says she needs to cooperate before he’ll consider letting her come home.”
“‘Cooperate’?”
“Take her meds as prescribed,” he elaborated. “She’s been pretending to swallow them, and then flushing them down the toilet.”
“Resourceful.”
“Yeah,” he said with a grunt. After another moment, he said, “Honestly, Jule, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
She wanted to touch him, to comfort him. But she held back, afraid that any sympathetic gesture she made now would result in a capitulation, and the stance she had so carefully struck a few moments past would collapse as if she’d never said a word. Instead, she said, “When you figure it out, please let me know.”
She wavered. Maybe it will be okay. Since I’ve staked out my position and he seems to have accepted it. She refused to think about how easily he’d agreed to her terms. And I’d hate to disappoint the kids. “I didn’t bring any pajamas,” she said.
His smile melted her heart. “I’ll loan you a t-shirt.”
~
She needn’t have worried that Dave would try to weaken her resolve. The kids didn’t give them a chance to be alone. They clamored for her attention as soon as they got in the car, chattering all the way home about their day, and dragging her from room to room so she could see all their treasures.
Dave fixed hamburgers and opened a bag of salad, and scooped out ice cream for dessert. Julia shooed them all out of the kitchen after dinner so she could clean up. “It’s the least I can do to earn my keep,” she told him. “Go and spend time with your kids.”
Gratefully, he did.
She watched their nightly routine with interest: homework, baths, story time, lights out. There was a definite underlying structure to the chaos, and for all the stress Dave was under, Julia could tell this was one of his favorite parts of the day.
The kids argued over who got custody of Julia for the night. When the discussion became too heated, Dave flipped a coin. Randi won, and Dave promised a pouting Ritchie that next time Julia stayed over, it would be his turn. Julia agreed, but wondered to herself whether Dave was simply placating his son, or indulging in wishful thinking that there would be a next time.
Randi refused to go to sleep until Julia joined her, which suited Julia just fine for a number of reasons.
“Sleep tight,” Dave said, as he tucked Randi in. “We need to get an early start tomorrow. Julia needs to get home, and we’ve got lots to do at the cottage to get the place ready for summer.” He kissed his daughter’s forehead and headed for the door.
“Dad,” Randi said. “You didn’t tuck Julia in.”
“I’m perfectly capable of tucking myself in,” she said quickly.
“Dad!” Randi said.
Dave gave Randi a long look. Then he knelt beside Julia where she lay on the floor and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sleep tight,” he said, his voice low.
“You, too,” she whispered.
He flipped off the light and closed the door on his way out.
By the light of the bedside clock, Randi propped herself up on her elbows and stage whispered, “He likes you.”
She smiled. “I like him, too.”
“But he’s married to Mom,” she said.
Julia nodded in the near-darkness. “I know. It’s okay.”
~
Julia started awake at the knock on the door. “Up and at ‘em, ladies!” Dave called from the other side.
“Go away,” Randi mumbled. It sounded to Julia like she had pulled a pillow over her head.
Whether undaunted or oblivious to his daughter’s reaction, Dave continued his wake-up call. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, starting with a good breakfast!”
Julia squinted at the window, where pinkish-orange light was barely filtering through the space between the closed drapes. “Is he always this chipper in the morning?” she groaned.
“Yes,” Randi said, her disgust plain.
“Points against him, then,” she said, and yawned.
“I mean, no!” Randi scrambled upright. “Not all the time. Only when we have to get out the door really early. Honest!”
Julia raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Nice save.” She slithered out of her borrowed sleeping bag and rubbed an aching hip. Sometime during the night, the air mattress under her bag had lost a fair bit of its loft.
When she came downstairs a few minutes later – dressed in the same suit and silk blouse she had worn to the lawyer’s office the day before – she caught the unmistakable aroma of pancakes. She followed her nose to the kitchen, where Dave presided over a hot griddle. He grinned at her and motioned her to the table, where Ritchie already sat. The boy was still in his pajamas and his hair was mussed. She was struck by his resemblance to Dave at that age. “Good morning,” she said, and gave him a hug.
“Don’t forget,” he said, hugging her back. “Next time you stay over, you get to sleep in my room. Daddy already said.”
“I’ll remember.” She took a seat. “What’s for breakfast, anyway, that you raced down here without even getting dressed first?”
His face lit up. “Pancakes! They’re my favorite!”
Julia leaned over and said, “Mine, too.”
“That’s why I made them,” Dave said, depositing the first plateful on the table in front of them. “Eat up. Plenty more where those came from.”
Randi entered as Ritchie lunged for the plate. “Guests first!” Randi told him, and he subsided with a scowl.
“You two go ahead,” Julia said, getting up to start a pot of coffee. “I’ll eat with the cook.”
Randi nodded sagely and reached for the plate.
As Julia had expected, the kids wolfed their breakfasts and were gone inside of ten minutes. “Perfect timing,” Dave said, as he brought the last of the pancakes to the table. He leaned down to kiss her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you, too,” she said. “What’s with this early bird business? What time did you get up, anyway?”
“Actually, I’m not sure I slept,” he admitted.
She realized he often appeared tired. “How long has this been going on?”
He shrugged. “Months. Years. I’ve lost track. Syrup?” He held out the bottle.
She wrapped her hand around his on the bottle’s handle. “You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “Something is gonna have to give.”
“I know.” He set the syrup down and took her hand. “I know. I have a lot to think about.”
“So do I,” she said. He’s not going to leave her. She slipped her hand from his and turned her attention to her breakfast.
~
For Julia, the drive to Michiana with her parents had always been a subdued affair. Her folks would sit together in the front seat, chatting occasionally in low voices, while she sat in the back by herself, reading or dozing or staring out the window.
Traveling with Dave’s clan was much noisier. The sound system played a medley of Disney tunes while the kids chattered over it. Julia loved listening to the easy give-and-take between Dave and his children. She wondered where he had learned it. It hadn’t been at home; he, too, had been an only child.
She remembered now, out of the blue, that his parents had wanted him to be a doctor. “How come you didn’t go to med school?” she asked him when there was a five-second lull in the wall of sound.
“I sucked at science,” he said. “Didn’t I tell you? I flunked out of chemistry my sophomore year of college. And my biology grades weren’t much better. But by then, I’d discovered that I liked history better, anyway.” He glanced back at the kids. “Maybe Randi will be the doctor of the family.”
“No way,” she said. “I’m gonna be a dancer.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Ritchie?” she asked.
He barely glanced up from his video game. “A dad,” he said.
Dave seemed to glow. But he said, “Buddy, what kind of job do you want to have?”
“I want one where I can play video games all day,” Ritchie said, grinning.
“There are jobs like that,” Julia said. “Or you could be a designer, and make up your own games.”
“How cool would that be?” Dave said.
“It would be okay,” said Ritchie. “Mostly, I just like to play ‘em.”
“The point is,” said Dave, “you guys can be anything you want to be. Anything you set your mind to having, you can have it.” He glanced at Julia as he spoke. She wondered whether she had actually heard a note of determination in his voice, or whether she had imagi
ned it.
As they approached the train station where she had left her car, she realized she was holding her breath. Dave had barely brought his SUV to a stop before she had the door open. “Thanks for everything,” she said, waving. “See you later.” And she nearly ran for her own car.
In an instant, all of it had become too much for her – the kids’ noise, the discussion with Dave, the longing looks he kept giving her, and the strain of reining in her own feelings for him. She longed to close the door of her own little house and shut out the world for a while.
But it was not to be.
Not thirty minutes after she arrived home, as she was stepping out of the shower and putting on a sweatshirt and jeans, someone knocked on her door. She groaned. Was Dave here again already? Or maybe one of the other neighbors had seen her drive up and wanted to tell her everything she had missed in the past twenty-four hours.
For a moment, she contemplated ignoring the door until whoever it was got tired of knocking and went away. But then the knocking began again. Except that this was more of a thudding. And as soon as that registered, she knew exactly who it was.
Rolling her eyes, she walked rapidly to the front door and threw it open. “What do you want?” she demanded of her ex-husband.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Lance said, and opened the screen door himself.
He wore dress slacks and a sport coat – even in college, he’d never worn jeans – and as he pushed past her, she caught a whiff of his signature French cologne. She wondered idly how long it would be before he had to start using a knockoff version. She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure anything you have to say to me should be transmitted through our respective lawyers,” she said.
“Come on, Jules. Don’t be like that.” He glanced around. “Yep, this place is exactly the way I remembered it.”
“‘Dark and moldy,’ I believe, was your exact description.” She left the door open and faced him, arms crossed.
“All I said was that a skylight would do wonders,” he said. “And cutting down some of these trees would really open the place up.” He gave her a disarming grin.
Seasons of the Fool Page 12
