The next Monday, Jules detected a commotion coming from the backyard. It sounded like a high pitched motor. From the bedroom, she meandered down the hall and gazed out the glass doors. Andi stood at the window with her nose pressed against the pane, her hands on either side of her face. Beyond her, Rhett swung a weed eater through the overgrown grass at the border of the yard. Jules slid the door open
“What, may I ask, is your father doing?” Jules made a mock demand with a smile.
Andi grinned, her almond shaped eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s weed-wackin’. Haven’t you ever seen a weed trimmer before?”
She parked her fists on her tiny hips, and tilted her head to the side like she was the adult.
“Your dad is spoiling me. First he mowed my yard and now this.”
His lithe form moved easily in knee shorts and a royal-blue Duke tank. He caught her staring and waved. She raised her hand. Awkward. Jeebers. Was she fourteen? She rolled her eyes.
CHAPTER NINE
Andi eyed the inside of the house. “Can I have a cool drink?”
“May I have a cool drink, and of course, you may.”
The words barely slipped from Jules’ mouth before the five-year-old shot through the door. She had no option but to close it and face her. The child stood pigeon-toed in the center of the living room, looking all around.
“Huh come you don’t have no furniture?” She shrugged, turning her palms skyward.
Hmm…terrible English…tricky question. Jules had hoped to avoid this subject by bringing Andi a drink to the porch. She sighed. The answer to that question proved tricky enough to explain to herself, let alone a curious child with little understanding of stress.
“I’ve not had a chance to get any, I guess.” She bit her lip. It wasn’t exactly true.
“Didn’t you have none in your old house you coulda brought?”
Double negative on that one. Jules nibbled her nail. Bring the couch on which she’d read Charlotte’s Web to Hannah? Where she’d snuggled her husband and watched the evening news?
Her mind recalled the red cherry dining set faithfully ensconced with tablecloths to avoid any dings or scratches. She could make an extensive list of expensive furniture she’d coddled from the world. The huge glassed hutch, the grand piano. Many precious possessions had filled that four bedroom brick, all carefully chosen, meticulously cleaned, and artfully displayed. She chose instead to correct Andi’s English. Much safer.
“Didn’t I have ‘any?’ We don’t say, ‘didn’t you have none.’”
Andi tilted her noggin with curiosity. “Anyway, it’s Daddy’s birthday on Sunday.”
Ah, successful side sweep. “Really?”
The pixie bobbed her head. “Yep. He’s old. He’s gonna be thirty-five.” The child snickered behind her hand.
Jules’ eyes whipped to the glass door, where beyond, he trimmed around the small yard. Only thirty-five? Why, he was just a pup. Now Jules angled her head to the side. What made him seem older? Perhaps the haunted sadness lingering on his face? Mentally Jules shook herself, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, and focused on the child, who still chattered.
“…so will ya?” Andi blinked up at her with large almond-shaped eyes, dark as night.
“I…” Goodness. What had she asked? “Will I…what?”
Andi thrust her little fists on her hips once more and scowled. “Come and eat cake?”
Jules’ eyes grew large. Oh, dear. “No, honey, I don’t think so.”
She cleared her throat and watched disappointment fill the child’s face as her small body sagged. Jules stomach tightened. She handed a bottle of water to the question-filled imp.
“I’m sure your Dad has a big party planned with close family and friends, so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything he’d…planned.” Hadn’t she already said that word?
Andi set, or more accurately, plopped, the water bottle on the floor before snapping up and crossing her arms tightly. She shook her head in denial. “Nuh-uh. We’re gonna go to see Grammy and Gramps on a plane. But not till next week. Daddy said it was just me ’n him. And I getta make him a cake all by myself.”
Jules jumped on this opportunity. “See. Your dad just wants it to be you and him.”
The child tore off to the glass doors. “I’ll go ask.”
Jules’s eyes widened and she rushed over to watch Andi, on nimble feet, come abreast of her father. He reached down and turned off the engine. Jules backed away until she could just peek at them around the door facing, as if that would somehow hide her. Rhett looked toward the house, and Jules shrank away, almost positive he couldn’t detect her. To her horror, he nodded. Surely not.
Andi was back at the slider, and Jules darted down the hall to pretend she hadn’t witnessed the whole interaction. The door closed, and she waited for Andi to call her name before entering the living room. She took a deep breath. More than likely, there was no backing down.
“He said, yes. I told ya. You can help make the cake.” Andi hopped up and down, clapping her hands. “Can you come, huh? Can you, can you?”
Good gravy. What a mess. Jules swallowed a lump.
“Of course.” Her voice squeaked with false gaiety. The bottle stood on the floor with a pool of water around it. So much for a cool drink.
* * *
After the Carsens left, she went to sit on the back porch. The yard looked nicer and cleaner with the shaggy weeds gone. Almost homey. Thirty-five. She shook her head. Not that it mattered.
Leaning against the peeling wood siding, she closed her eyes and savored the sun’s warmth on her face. Her reality was totally different now. She felt old. Used up, done. Her chance at being happily married had disappeared like money on Black Friday. She’d never visualized her life like this. Just her. Alone. She took a deep breath and tears threatened. Suck it up. This was how it was. And how it was going to be.
So Rhett’s age made absolutely no difference. Or any other man’s for that matter. There was no plan to change anything, ever. And though she understood it was for the best, sadness choked her and loneliness robbed her breath. She was on her own now. Forever. A tear dripped from her lashes.
* * *
5:02. Heavy, sleep sigh. Tuesday. Work. Blah. She rose and got a move on, but didn’t like it one bit. She should call Hannah. Find out how she was doing. After the diner closed, she’d go and check her email. It’d be the first time since she’d left the city. No doubt there’d be plenty in her inbox. Jules towel dried her hair. She supposed she should also turn on her electricity. Eventually, it would get so hot she’d need air-conditioning. Plus, it’d help to have a real refrigerator, not a cooler. Nah, it could wait till next week. The emails would be taxing enough.
The day passed, and Jules met a few extra locals. Some people actually had more original names than Bob, Bill or Dan. She was even becoming fond of the greasy antique cash register. Wow, so unexpected. Sherry brightened her day with her sweet smile. Sally, well, Sally was just grouchy. Marsha took her aside and told Jules she was doing well and planned to keep her around. At that news, Jules toggled whether to be pleased or extremely depressed. But work kept her mind busy and made time pass. She finished her shift and hiked past the tall church and on to the library.
Inside, she selected a computer with a mediocre amount of privacy and logged on. Seven hundred, forty-eight new emails. Some from advertisements, most from friends. She recognized several co-workers from the school, and people from her church and neighborhood. They probably all said the same thing, like some pathetic form letter. Dear Jules, where are you, what happened to you, why did you quit your job, we’re so worried about you, why don’t you call, can we see you, etc., and etc., and so on. Bleck, ad nauseam.
She considered deleting the lot. Sighing, she clicked the first one. Yep, just as she expected. Impatient, she clicked the next. Yep. Pretty much the same. Okay. Jules clicked the ‘compose’ button. She’d write her own form letter, and she’d forward it to
everyone, including the drug store who emailed her coupons practically every day for medication. Dear friends, I’m fine, working at a new job—not about to describe it—in a new city, really enjoying it, blah ,blah, blah. Send. Delete and more delete. Well, took care of that.
Squishing down guilt, she logged off and walked toward the glass door. A sign caught her eye. It was a simple computer-generated eight and a half by eleven paper bordered by pictures of books on all sides. “Wanted: a volunteer reader for our library school on Monday mornings.” Huh, interesting.
The thought of interacting with children again in a teaching setting made her stop and ponder the sign. She twisted a lock of hair, yet shook her head. It was too soon. Jules shoved it to the back of her mind. First things first. Somehow, she had to get out of this birthday thing. Andi will be so disappointed. But it all seemed so…uncomfortable. Pushing the door open, she inhaled the fresh air outside the block building. Sure, Rhett had smiled and assured her it was all right before they’d left in the truck. But it was just a little too strange.
* * *
Jules worked on Wednesday, walked home—the extended version past the church—grabbed a book from the library, and spent the evening engrossed in the spy novel long into the night. 5:02 a.m. faithfully pulled her from sleep on Thursday morning, Friday, Saturday, and finally, on Sunday. She blinked at the red digital numbers and jolted awake, remembering she’d done nothing to cancel the so-called birthday celebration. She had no gift. No plan. Nada. Groaning, she rolled over.
She did the usual reluctant morning thing, jumped in the jeep, and sped off to Princeton. Hopefully, she thought as she purchased a set of charcoal pencils, eraser and sketch pad, she’d return this stuff, including the blue gift bag and big shiny bow. If not, well, at least she had something to give at the “party.”
For some reason, the morning turned melancholy. She found herself welling up with tears that she had to blink away several times. Maybe it was the whole birthday thing. It brought back happy memories of celebrating a loved-one’s special event. Visions of making Hannah’s birthday cakes from scratch flooded her brain. How pitiful they’d looked.
But Hannah always insisted they were “beautiful.” Hmmf. A few tears rolled down her face. Hannah, so optimistic, even as a child. This reminiscing also reminded Jules of the obvious. She was alone. Solo. Hannah was all grown up, married, and having one of her own. And Darrel was happily married to someone else. Reality had skewered off center.
Perhaps the waterworks also gripped her because of the fact it was Sunday, which had always been special, too. Hardly a Sunday had passed that she wasn’t sitting in her specific spot in her particular pew. Now, this day magnified how out of whack her life had become.
The hours crawled on sloth toes, but lunchtime arrived. Deciding each meal was like climbing Mt. Everest. With no refrigerator, it proved difficult to keep an interesting supply of food. A readymade salad was just the thing, and in no time Jules had selected one at the store. She buzzed back home, armed with her plastic container and an envelope of dressing.
She hadn’t returned for more than ten minutes when she caught sight of Andi at the glass doors. The child grinned in wild glee. Rhett, dressed in blue jeans and a red polo, stepped up behind her, looking, Jules thought, less enthused. She slid the door open and blocked Andi from bounding into her house. Stepping out onto the porch, Jules quickly shut the slider.
“Hi,” she began, mostly to Rhett. If she had the conversation about missing this birthday shindig with Rhett, perhaps she’d avoid disappointing a certain little girl. But Andi would have none of that.
“Jules. Jules. We got a red velvet cake. Just like the rabbit.” Andi squealed and danced in excitement, making her black polka dot dress flair.
“Yes, wonderful.” For Andi’s benefit, she forced some enthusiasm. Then she shifted her gaze to Rhett’s blue ones. Please understand, her eyes begged. “You really don’t have to include me. Seriously, I realize it’s you and Andi’s day. And that’s the way it should be.”
A heavy shadow darkened his chin. He did look tired. Or was it relief? His head dropped to glance at Andi, who face appeared definitely cloudy.
“Yeah…I’m thinking that’s not a possibility.” He drew the word out, facing the charmingly pouty face of his child. He smiled, a really show-stopping smile, slightly crooked. “Andi has been looking forward to this for several days now, and really, it’s pretty much all I’ve heard.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and struck a relaxed pose. “She somehow thinks you bake better than I.” Again the grin. Dimple for free.
Jules swallowed. “I…”
Andi jumped up and down, pulling on her hand. “Please Jules, we’ll be all alone without you.”
All alone. Solo. Oh, boy. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and her throat clenched. She could hardly think as she gasped for a breath of air. Blinking the tears away, she caught Rhett staring at her. His cheeks hollowed, and the grin slid from his face. She planted her gaze on the grass. Loneliness, face to face.
Jules bent to Andi’s height. “Red velvet, huh? You’re sure it’s not a Velveteen cake?”
Andi grinned, delighted with the pun. She shook her head vigorously. “Uh-huh. But Daddy’s grillin’ a cow.” Andi slapped her leg at her silly joke and gave a laugh, mostly fake. “Steaks are cow, Jules.”
Jules’ lips twitched. “Okay, then. I’ll be down after I eat, and we’ll start the cake.”
Andi’s face puckered and she turned to her dad. “No, Jules, there’s cow for you too. Tell her to come, Daddy.”
Rhett’s smile reappeared. “I am grilling steaks, homegrown. And I’m not bragging here, or anything, but they’ll stand up to any steakhouse beef. Besides, we’re throwing on a couple of baked potatoes and we’d planned on you eating with us.”
Jules gulped. What happened to just birthday cake? Simple cake. A little frosting. A little candle. Done deal. Now a whole meal and dessert?
Jules plastered a fake smile across her face. “Steak? How can I turn away seared cow?”
And although the entire lunch thing made her a little nervous, she couldn’t help but notice the warmth that stole over her. At least she wouldn’t be eating alone. No, not alone.
CHAPTER TEN
Jules took the tour of the Carsen house first thing, yanked around by an excited five-year-old. Oh, their house was grand. The entry door and surrounding windows boasted the original stained glass, splashing color about the space. Round floor-to-ceiling pillars greeted them in the entry foyer. Andi’s eyes snapped with excitement as she paraded Jules to her princess-themed room, complete with a life-sized castle wall mural and soft pink netting draped around her canopied bed.
The huge kitchen contained new antique-white distressed cabinets and an enormous island in the middle, with large bar area with four stools on one side and a dishwasher and warmer on the other. Two pillars, similar to the entryway, rested on each end of the counter and stretched to the ceiling. Granite covered every surface. A commercial-sized stove and oven hood gleamed in the sunlight streaming in the oversized windows. The place shone like a glossy magazine picture of exquisite homes, and Rhett sheepishly admitted to renovating the place himself.
Oddly enough, nothing hung on the walls. It seemed as if they’d just moved in. The furniture mixed in an assortment of eclectic leftovers. Much like her home, minus a nice kitchen and furnishings. A house of survival. Where something wasn’t quite as it should be.
Rhett excused himself to begin the grilling process while Andi literally pulled Jules into the sunroom. The area was rounded and covered in windows on two wall sections. The sun flooded in, filtered through the UV glass, revealing the pool area, hot tub, and patio. Rhett fiddled with the grill outside before disappearing from sight. Andi tugged.
“I need to show you something.” Her voice dropped, catching Jules’ attention. “Come ’mere.”
The room held a comfortable wicker couch, softly padded, and a
matching wicker chair, also covered, facing outside. A wicker coffee table and side tables filled the rest of the space. Over by the wall leading back into the kitchen stood a glass dining set with four chairs. It was the first room with a complete appearance, as if the furniture had been carefully selected. Andi directed her to one of the side tables, let go of her hand, and pulled open a drawer. Inside, Jules could see a photo frame. Andi carefully removed it.
“This is my mother.” Her voice lowered to a hush, and her gaze darted to the patio.
Holey-comoly. Jules’ breath caught. Verboten—forbidden. The word snaked through Jules’ brain, but Andi’s deep dark eyes pleaded. Reluctantly, she took the photo. Wrong or right, Jules felt a strong urge to see this woman. It was a close up, softly shaded. The woman’s head tilted to the side, chin elevated in an insolent pose reminiscent of a runway model. The beautifully sculpted face glowered from the frame.
Her mouth was parted, almost seductively, drawing one’s eye to notice the strong chin and jaw. Jules squinted, studying the exotic, almond-shaped eyes, dark as night. Andi’s eyes. But here, a divergence. Andi’s were filled with childish joy, these were distant, hard.
Her luxurious hair flowed in dark waves behind her. She wore a single-strapped Mediterranean blue blouse, exposing a slender shoulder. The color contrasted against the woman’s dark, olive skin tone that neared perfection. The woman was absolutely gorgeous. Jules swallowed.
“She’s pretty, huh?” Andi whispered.
Jules could do nothing but nod. Hearing the back door close in the kitchen, Andi snatched the photo, dropped it in the drawer, and took off toward her father. Jules stepped forward and pressed the compartment closed with her knee. What an incredibly stunning woman. How Rhett must miss her. Her pondering ceased as Andi, eyebrows drawn in disapproval, reappeared at the door and beckoned her to follow.
Reviving Jules Page 7
