Reviving Jules

by Peggy Trotter

  Did she hear voices? Where was she? Again she heaved, yet nothing came but clear liquid and she coughed before collapsing into the coolness of the grass. Hands were on her. Who could be here? Darrell was dead.

  She floated and found herself inside a familiar vehicle. Leather seats, clean floor mats. Rhett’s truck. Oh, the wave of nausea overtook her, and she lurched from the seat. She couldn’t soil Rhett’s interior. Leather seats, burgundy. Why couldn’t she think straight? She heard her name echo from somewhere and large hands pushed her back into the truck. Was it Rhett? Or Hannah? Or Darrell? No, Darrell was dead.

  “Jules. Jules.”

  Rhett’s voice. A small bucket appeared in her lap and she stared at the bottom where a small circle occupied the center of the plastic bottom. Hands engulfed her chin and brought up her face. Blue eyes. Rhett.

  “Listen to me, Jules. It’s okay. Do you understand? Jules, can you hear me?” He wiped her mouth with something soft.

  His voice echoed as through a long tunnel. Was this real or could she be dreaming? “I’ll mess up your truck.”

  Was that her voice? She sounded so strange. A seatbelt crossed her then a blanket.

  “Hold the container, Jules.” She gripped the plastic ice cream bucket as he placed it back in her lap. “Now, sit still. We’re taking you home. It’s going to be all right. Close your eyes.”

  She did and heard him command Andi to hurry and climb in the back. The doors shut. Where was Hannah? Were they leaving her? The movement of the truck and the snugness of the belt sent her dry heaving into the pail. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed. A napkin was thrust into her hand, and she wiped her face, keeping her head above the opening of the bucket. Darrell. Was. Dead.

  She groaned. Could it be true? Perhaps she’d dreamt it all? Dear God, please let it be a nightmare.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Darrell was dead. A nightmare. Or was it a daymare? What did one call a bad dream in the day? The movement of the vehicle stopped, and she glanced up to see Rhett opening her door. It was Rhett. He was here. After unbuckling her belt, he wrapped her in the blanket and carried her through the garage to his house. She stared at the white ceiling as her head bounced along, noting the garage door openers. This wasn’t her home. Why were they here? He weaved his way down the hall until they reached a large bedroom. He carefully laid her down and covered her up. She shivered.

  “Daddy? Why is Jules in your bed?”

  “Andi, darlin’, she’s sick. I need you to go watch a movie, or play, and be very quiet. Jules needs some rest now.”

  “Okay.”

  The bed eased beneath her as Rhett disappeared from view. She closed her eyes. Why did it seem so cold in here? A warm, wet cloth touched her forehead. She blinked. Rhett must have returned. He wiped her face and brushed back the stray hairs.

  “He’s dead. He’s dead.” A moan echoed through the room. Who’d made such a mournful groan? Oh, it was her own voice. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?”

  More blankets piled on her. Her skin turned absolutely glacial.

  “Yes, Jules. Close your eyes. You need to sleep.”

  Her teeth chattered. Sleep. Yes, blissful sleep. She closed her eyes and pulled the comforter over her head and shivered. God, please. Let me sleep.

  * * *

  She woke with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed. The room was dark. Her eyes searched the area for some evidence of her location. Then, realization washed over her. She located small red digits. Two-fifty a.m. Rhett’s bed. Rhett’s house.

  Darrell. Was. Dead.

  A sob rolled up her throat and escaped. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but the door creaked open. A figure moved through the door, bringing in a dim slant of light.

  “It’s me, Jules.” Rhett settled on the edge of the bed and took her in his arms. He held her like a little child as broken sobs tore from her. Her body relaxed as her grief subsided. The brightening glow at the window indicating dawn approached. Her eyes grew heavy, and Rhett tucked her under the blankets and sat holding her hand. She tried to stay awake, but her treasonous lids slid shut.

  The bright sun behind the curtains woke Jules the second time. She squinted at the light and tears wet her cheeks. Throwing back the covers, she located a tissue box on the bedside table and seized one to mop the moisture away and then buried her face in her hands. Oh, the awful truth of the day before resonated in painful waves. Her ex-husband, whom she’d been married to for twenty years, was gone. How and why, she wasn’t quite sure.

  Talking to Hannah on the phone reverberated through her skull like some hellish horror movie. She couldn’t remember details. Glancing around, she caught sight of a door and, figuring it to be the bathroom, she stood and walked towards it.

  She looked into the mirror. Her face appeared blotched and pale, her eyelids swollen. She rested her temple against her cold reflection. Her life would never be the same. Oh, Hannah. She had to talk to Hannah.

  She walked to the door of the bedroom and scanned up and down the hall. Tiptoeing, she listened for sounds of anyone in the house. Rhett appeared from the left.

  “You’re up.”

  She nodded. Just seeing him made tears gather in her eyes.

  “I’m really sorry, Jules.” He came to her and Jules hung her head. She didn’t want to cry again. His hands massaged her shoulder muscles. Why did he have to be so kind and comforting?

  “I need to call Hannah.” She sniffed.

  “All right.”

  “I’m not sure”—she paused as she collected herself—“I can talk.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  She blotted her face with another tissue, her head bowed. He put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the living room before getting the cordless phone. She sat for a moment just holding the receiver. “What time is it?”

  “It’s eleven-thirty.” His voice sounded soft and calm.

  She nodded, put the phone on speaker and dialed. It buzzed until an answering machine picked up. The beep went off, but Jules continued to stare at it as tears rushed to her eyes. Rhett gently took the receiver from her hand and left a brief message with a return number before he clicked off.

  “Thank you.” She sat back against the cushioned couch. Her gaze trailed to the large picture window where the blind was drawn. The sun shone, birds sang, flowers bloomed. It seemed a normal day. But it wasn’t.

  They sat for the longest spell, neither speaking. Finally, Jules broke the silence.

  “Where’s Andi?”

  “She’s at school.”

  Jules turned her head and studied him for the first time since she’d entered the living room. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  He shrugged. “I took the day off.”

  She dropped her eyes. “Because of me. I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw him shake his head. “You’re not a bother.”

  “My um…” She swallowed around the huge lump in her throat. “My ex-husband was killed in a car accident.”

  Tears slid down her face, and she swiped at them.

  He nodded, staring at the floor at his feet. “I talked briefly to Hannah yesterday.”

  “You did? When? What did she say?” She sought his face.

  “Not much. She sounded upset, yet worried for you. I told her I’d take care of you. That was about it.”

  She let her gaze fall from his. Poor Hannah. Sweet little Hannah. She’d lost her father. Fresh tears burned her eyes. The phone rang. Rhett glanced at the caller ID before answering and pressing the speaker button.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?” The word came in a horrible croak.

  The line grew silent for a moment until a male voice came on.

  “This is Jason. Listen, Han can’t talk much right now.”

  Jules pressed her knuckles to her lips as tears coursed down her face. She needed to be there for Hannah. Thank God for Jason. She opened her mouth to
speak but only a sob came. She sought Rhett’s face, and he carried the conversation.

  “Hey, this is Rhett. I spoke with Hannah yesterday. Jules is here, she can hear you, but she can’t speak. She’s still pretty upset. I think she’d like to hear exactly what happened.”

  Jason explained how the couple, after the birth of their baby, had taken a belated honeymoon trip. On their way back at one of the mountainous sections of the interstate, a semi lost control, which forced their vehicle off the side of the road and into a deep gulch. Both of them were killed the instant their car reached the bottom.

  Rhett asked about funeral arrangements, found a pad of paper, and wrote down the information. He finished the call by assuring Jason that Jules would call Hannah as soon as she could. Once he hung up, Rhett grabbed the tissue box on the end table and sat on the couch next to Jules.

  He handed the box to her as she tried to stem the flow of tears. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Soda?”

  He gave a small grin. She shook her head.

  “You probably ought to at least drink some water. You’ll become dehydrated.” He stood up, left without another word, and returned with a glassful. She took a sip and set it on a coaster.

  “I probably should go home,” she murmured.

  “Jules, I think it’s best if you stay here awhile.”

  She folded her tissue. He was right. To have him near, even though it shamed her to admit it, offered great relief. “I need to take a shower and change into some clean clothes.”

  He nodded. “Okay, I’ll pick up Andi soon, so I’ll take you to your place and give you an hour or so before I return to pick you up. How does that sound?”

  Powerless, she nodded. She simply had no energy to refuse his offer. For now, she’d lean into the comforting couch and let him be there for her.

  * * *

  The next two days were a blur. She floated through her stay at Rhett’s house even though it smacked peculiar. But it brought a sense of solace. Andi stayed with a friend while Rhett drove her to Nashville. He wouldn’t permit her going alone.

  Then the funeral, and Hannah crying. Many family members, friends, and acquaintances put in appearances. Horrible. An unending cry fest. And the whole time, Jules kept nagging herself to get over it. He was, after all, her ex-husband. She shouldn’t be this upset. But she was. She’d never asked for this divorce and, in a way, she still had some love for him.

  It was a double funeral. They were buried together under the same headstone. Jules’ heart turned to marble. Rhett gathered her to him as they stood at the edge of the crowd. And just as there were family, friends, and acquaintances of hers and Darrell’s, there were also family, friends, and acquaintances of the new wife. The dead wife. Amanda.

  And the baby. Jillian Amanda Noble, Amanda and Darrell’s baby. So small she had no idea her parents were gone for good. Two months old and an orphan. Hannah and Jason tended the tiny thing, and a knife sliced Jules’ emotions. Never was she so thankful for dark glasses and Rhett’s tall body to shield her.

  She avoided the funeral dinner. She and Rhett went to Hannah’s and waited for everyone to return. So many people knew Amanda, and of course, Darrell, she just didn’t think she could stomach it.

  The door opened and Jules’ mother, Iva, entered with Woodard, Jules stepfather, close behind. She set her expensive leather purse on the dining room table and sauntered toward the couch. Woodard’s stiff posture and stern face resembled a life-size cutout of himself.

  “Several people asked after you, Jules. Some very dear friends.” Iva brushed an invisible speck of dust from her black designer dress. She looked ready to hit the red carpet.

  Jules cringed.

  Her mother sniffed. “But you had run off. As usual.”

  “We thought it best to skip the dinner,” Rhett supplied.

  Iva’s head came up. “Now, you are who?”

  “Mom, I hardly…”

  Rhett stood and held out his hand to Iva. “Rhett Carsen. I’m a friend and neighbor of Jules.

  The woman’s sharp eyes perused him. Then laying a limp, gloved hand in his palm, she continued. “Hmmm. And what do you do?”

  “I’m an architect.”

  Iva’s brows rose and she nodded. “Profitable work. And are you originally from Nashville?”

  Jules stood. “Excuse me, I need a glass of water.”

  She quickened her step when Rhett answered Mother’s question, only to be given another. Once in the kitchen, she pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. If Rhett hadn’t been trapped in the living room, she’d consider jumping in her car and driving around until Hannah showed up. The back door opened, and her sister, Liza, trailed by Joe, her husband, came in.

  “Ah, here’s where she’s hiding.”

  Jules took a swallow of water to avoid a hateful retort.

  “I just don’t see how you can keep turning tail on important events. This was your husband for twenty years, Jules. The least you could do is show up at the funeral dinner.”

  Jules shot a glance at Joe who gave a comforting shrug, and Jules spun on her heel to return to the living room. Liza and Joe followed.

  “Oh, Liza, did you know Jules’ friend is an architect?”

  Liza flashed a wide smile and scurried to the couch next to him. “Really? How interesting.”

  Iva settled into one of the wooden dining chairs beside Woodard. “It’s important to align yourself with powerful people, Jules. You remember I’ve always said that.”

  Jules groaned to herself, wishing the day was over.

  “And how long have you known my little sister?” Liza stepped right in where Jules’ mother had left off.

  Rhett crossed his arms and leaned back into the cushions. “A few months, I guess.”

  Bless his heart, he was in for the long haul. Jules flicked her gaze from her mother’s condescending glance, to her stepfather’s rigid face, to Liza’s animated features. Ugh. It was almost worse than the funeral. She backed up to the kitchen door and disappeared through, hating that she abandoned Rhett to Liza’s police interrogation. With a quivering breath, she slipped outside and scooted around to the small backyard. She hugged herself beneath a spindly redbud and pressed her shoes together.

  A car motor made her turn, and Hannah and Jason pulled into the drive. Jules shivered in the warmth of the day. The back door shut behind her, and she clenched her arms, hoping for a friendly presence. She sighed with relief when Rhett rounded the corner. He grinned when he saw her.

  “Hiding are we?”

  “Absolutely. And I’m not ashamed to say so.”

  He nodded and pressed his hands into his pockets. “Can’t imagine why. Charming family.”

  A snort burst from her, and she covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  He rattled the change in his pocket. “Well, you’ll be relieved to hear that Liza will cater our wedding.”

  Jules’ eyes widened as she gaped at him. “What?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rhett laughed. “Just joking. We didn’t actually talk about the caterers.”

  Jules shut her eyes with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. Really. I knew it’d be tough to face them. It always is. But bringing you into the melee probably wasn’t fair.”

  He gestured toward the house with his thumb. “Is that your father?”

  Jules groaned. “No, stepfather. My mother climbed the husband corporate ladder till she snagged a bank president. He’s Mr. Personality, isn’t he?”

  “He could be worse, I guess. At least he hasn’t asked any questions.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose. He hasn’t said ten words to me my entire life. My real father couldn’t come. He drives a truck, and he lives with his girlfriend in Florida. Dad was Mom’s second husband.”

  “I see. And Liza?”

  “She’s my half-sister. Her dad was Mom’s first husband.”

  Rhett grunted. “Good times, huh?”

&nbs
p; Jules rubbed her face. “Not even. You know, if they could only be slightly comforting, I could put up with the rest.”

  He leaned against the tree and seemed to rethink the decision as the trunk bowed. “How old were you when your folks split?”

  Jules took a deep breath. “Fourteen. I always promised myself I’d have a better relationship with my own daughter.”

  He nodded. “And you do.”

  With a tremulous smile, she agreed. “Yes. God blessed me with a wonderful relationship with Hannah.”

  She ran her hands up and down her upper arms. “I guess I’d better put in a re-appearance. Hannah’s here now, so hopefully that will diffuse some of the nosy questions.”

  He turned and walked beside her to the house. They went in and eased into the dining/living area. Hannah and Jason were nowhere to be seen. Jules sat on a dining room chair opposite her mother.

  Iva rattled her fingernails on the table. “Hannah needs to purchase a better home. The screen’s torn on the front door.”

  “I thought her husband had a good job. What’s he do, Jules?” Liza asked.

  Irritation snaked through Jules. The sound of the back bedroom door saved her from answering.

  Hannah and Jason entered with a car seat and diaper bag. Hannah’s first glance landed on Jules. An apology lit her eyes, as well as a plea for understanding. Jules averted her gaze, careful to convey nothing. The room filled with hushed greetings and hugs. Jules rose, tears pricking, and embraced Hannah. The never-ending supply of tears. Hannah shifted to her grandmother and aunt, while Jules moved to hug Jason who still held the car seat.

  “Look at that sweet face.” Liza cooed at the reclining baby. “Here let me take her.”

  “We missed you, Mom,” Hannah said as she laid her bundles on the dining room table.

  Jules’s throat squeezed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t.”

  Hannah pulled a tight smile and patted her protruding belly. “It’s okay.”

  “Well the food tasted good, for a church carry-in,” Liza observed, patting and bouncing the baby.