A Vow to Cherish (16 page)

John ran into Julia in the park again just a week later. As before, they fell into easy conversation, jogging to the end of the path, then claiming a park bench and talking until the sun disappeared behind the trees and he could find no excuse to stay longer.

He discovered that he and Julia shared many of the same values and philosophies, yet there was an edge to their conversation that gave it an excitement he couldn’t quite explain. Though he tried to push the comparison from his mind, it reminded him of the stimulating exchanges he and Ellen had always enjoyed. He didn’t want to compare Julia to Ellen. It seemed disloyal to Ellen—and unfair to Julia. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.

It was becoming an effort to keep their conversations centered on Julia’s life. He walked a precarious tightrope in order not to reveal too much about his situation. He hadn’t told her about Ellen. He talked about his grown children, but he didn’t mention his marital status.

He told himself that he was keeping Ellen a “secret” because he didn’t want Julia’s sympathy…and because he didn’t want to burden her already heavy heart with
his
woes. He didn’t want her to pity him, as did virtually every other person in his life.

That was part of what drew him to Julia—she didn’t know he was deserving of pity.

But in the early-morning hours, in that unsettled sleep just before awakening, he admitted the truth to himself. He was a liar. He was deceiving Julia as surely as if he looked squarely into her beautiful eyes and told her a bald-faced lie.

T
he administration offices of Parkside Manor were in the east wing of the sprawling complex. The inside wall of the director’s office was actually a huge window that overlooked the residents’ lounge and offered a view of the two hallways that forked from the lounge. The accounting offices and the employee entrance, however, were at the back of the building. This was partly a matter of convenience but mostly a matter of security. Every entrance accessible to the residents of Parkside was locked at all times and equipped with a sophisticated alarm system.

On a chill November evening, in her small but nicely appointed office, Julia Sinclair sat at her computer working on the month-end billing. In spite of the overtime she was putting in this month, she was enjoying her new job immensely. But more than that, she was loving her new life in the suburbs. The small-town friendliness that had endeared Calypso to her from the beginning was exemplified by the people who worked in her office. They had made her feel at home here, and it was nice to look forward to work each day. It had been a good decision to move away from Chicago.

Julia felt settled in the house she’d bought, though she was looking forward to doing some redecorating when she had time—and when money wasn’t so tight. To her relief, the boys finally seemed to be feeling they fit in at school and in the neighborhood. She, too, was making friends here. And yet, Chicago was close enough that they could drive in for a visit with old friends and still come home to Calypso the same day.

Home.
This really did feel like home now.

With a sigh of contentment, she closed the file she was working on, shut down her computer and locked up.

It was almost dark outside and she switched on the car lights as she backed out of her parking space. Turning the car toward the exit, she eased past the front of the building.

She watched a man open the door to the front entrance, juggling a large vase of flowers. As he turned to slip through the door, she recognized his face. It was John Brighton.

“Hmm…that’s strange,” she murmured to herself. “He must have family here.” It was odd he’d never mentioned it. They’d talked about her work at Parkside often enough that she thought he would have mentioned it if he knew someone who lived here. She shrugged it off. He was probably visiting a family member of a school-district employee.

But she thought about it again as she fixed leftovers for the boys. She wondered about it throughout the evening, then puzzled over her own curiosity. Why did she care so much?

The next morning while going over some billing statements, she impulsively called up “Brighton” on the computer.

The screen flickered as it ran the search. Then there it was.
Brighton, Ellen. Room E147. Bill to John Brighton, 245 West Oaklawn, Calypso, Illinois.
That was strange. John was paying the bills. It must be his mother or grandmother. That made it stranger still that he hadn’t mentioned it to her before.

Julia hadn’t admitted, even to herself, how interested she was in John Brighton. But their warm conversations had given her hope that someday she might be able to feel about another man the way she’d felt about Martin.

More than two years after Martin’s death, she was just beginning to come to terms with her grief. It still hurt to be alone, and it was an incredible burden to be both mother and father to their boys. But she was starting to be able to look back on the memories with fondness. In fact, they became a comfort to her rather than a torment. Lately she’d begun to reflect on marriage in general and had concluded that it was a wonderful institution, one she would like to enter into again if the right man ever came along.

After her encounter with John in the park, she’d entertained hopes that he might call to ask her out. She felt as though she may be ready to date again.

Feeling embarrassingly coy, she had purposely gone jogging in the park where they’d run into each other, hoping to see John again. When that didn’t happen, she reminded herself that she really didn’t know much about him at all. She knew he had children because he mentioned them often. Knowing Julia was a widow, he surely would have said something if he, too, had been widowed, so she assumed he was divorced. The fact that he never mentioned his children’s mother sent up danger signals, but she didn’t wish to pry into something he wasn’t comfortable talking about.

Julia fretted over her discovery all morning, and over her lunch hour she made a rash decision. Feeling guilty and a little ridiculous, she left the office area and headed down the corridor toward room E147. She didn’t have any idea what she would do when she got there, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

As an accountant at Parkside, Julia rarely had contact with the residents or their families. She knew the people in the institution served only as names and numbers on a computer printout. In fact, on the rare occasions she had to walk through the wings of the complex where the residents lived, she was always startled to realize that this was her place of employment. The atmosphere of the accounting department was much like any other office Julia had worked for—very practical and professional. Not at all a reflection of the human drama that played out every day on the other side of these walls.

The door to Ellen Brighton’s room was ajar, and Julia could see at first glance that it was a cheery, sunny room. There were vases of flowers on an antique table in front of the window, and the upholstered furniture and botanical prints on the wall gave the room a stylish, yet homey look.

At first, Julia didn’t see anyone in the room. Then, just as she was about to turn and walk back down the hall, the door to the room’s private bath creaked open, and a woman with curly, pale auburn hair shuffled out slowly. Julia watched her from the doorway. When the woman turned and sat down in a chair by the window, Julia almost gasped aloud. The noon sunlight illuminated her face, and Julia saw that she was beautiful. She couldn’t have been much older than Julia herself. Though she wore no makeup or jewelry, there was a faded elegance about her that was incongruous with this place where she lived. The woman stared out the window, and even from a distance Julia could see the haunted look in her eyes. She was unmistakably a patient here, unmistakably demented. But beautiful in spite of her insanity. What a sad story this must be.

Momentarily, she forgot that the woman had a connection to John Brighton. Julia was caught up in the novelty of the woman’s youth and beauty in a place like this. She toyed with the idea of going into the room and speaking with her. But what would she say? She had no business here. She felt mildly ashamed of herself. Her curiosity was gratuitous, bordering on obsessive.

She turned quickly and hurried back to the office. She finished her lunch and got back to work but couldn’t keep her mind on the figures before her. Maybe Ellen Brighton was John’s sister. But a sister would probably have been married, and few women her age kept their maiden names.

Impetuously, she called up the Brighton file once again and accessed more information.

Brighton, Ellen…Bill to John Brighton…Occupation: Superintendent of Schools…Relationship to patient: Husband.

Husband?
Julia felt as though she’d been struck. John was married!

But why should she have assumed otherwise? She broke into a cold sweat, her stomach roiling. What a fool she had been. She’d imagined he was flirting with her. And—how humiliating—she had flirted back. She flushed with embarrassment at the very thought of her shameless coyness with him. How could she ever face him again?

But
he
hadn’t been right in this either. Why hadn’t he admitted that he had a wife? A wife who lived at Julia’s very place of employment! He had every opportunity to mention it. What was he trying to pull?

“Hang on, Jul,” she chided herself. “It’s not like he ever asked you out or anything. You probably just imagined the flirting. You’re the one who made a fool of yourself. He didn’t owe you his life story.” She suddenly felt a horrifying sense of disloyalty to Martin.

She dropped her head to her desk. She was so confused.

She stewed over her discovery all afternoon, and when she got home that night, she was preoccupied and snappish with the boys.

A week passed, and finally, gradually, the obsession, the embarrassment lessened. In its place was a vague sense of disappointment. She had to admit, she’d had hopes for John Brighton.

“Okay, so life goes on. Get over it, Jul. It’s no big deal.”

The Calypso Public Library was quieter than usual on a Sunday night in February two hours before closing time. An older couple browsed the stacks, and in the study carrels several high school students did last-minute homework.

Julia had come to the library out of boredom. Even after all this time, it was still hard to get through the weekends. Martin had worked long hours, and they barely saw each other during the week, so they had relished their time together during the weekend. She still missed him terribly, but never as much as when Friday night rolled around.

She was looking through the new fiction, trying to find a good novel to read. She loved to read, but lately it seemed every book she started wound up depressing her. She needed something light and funny. She’d rejected a dozen books already on the basis of the jacket flaps’ synopses. Too much death, too much loss, too much angst. Maybe a good mystery…no, too scary to read in the house alone. Even when Martin was alive, she had not read a mystery unless he was sitting in bed beside her. Silly…

The elevator across from the shelves where Julia stood came to a squeaking, grinding halt and the doors slid open.

Julia froze as John Brighton stepped out of the elevator, his head bent over the sheaf of papers in his hand. Before Julia could turn away, he looked up and spotted her.

“Julia! Hello!”

She hesitated. “Hello.”

“Sunday night at the library, huh?”

She gave a halfhearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.” She didn’t know how to be with him. How to let him know that his secret was out.

He seemed not to notice her coldness.

“I’m doing a little last-minute research.” He waved the papers with his explanation. “We’re still trying to get the school-bond issue passed. I was hoping to find, somewhere in all the city’s archives, a surefire way to convince the community to vote in favor of it.” He motioned to the elevator. “There’s some amazing history stored in that basement. I could have spent all evening down there. Did you know that Calypso’s first school was in the old Lutheran church?”

She was having trouble being friendly, but he seemed oblivious. He went on, enthusiastically explaining his ideas for the public forum the school board had scheduled for the following week.

John’s eyes sparked with passion as he spoke about the school-bond issue, and somewhere along the way, he won her over and she forgot about her discovery about Ellen Brighton. She found herself listening to him with increasing interest. Being a newcomer to the community, she was in the dark about some of the politics that had preceded this controversial election. It was all rather fascinating.

Before she knew what was happening, John had steered her to a comfortable lounge area in the corner of the nonfiction section, and they fell deep in conversation as though they were old friends.

Finally, he stopped talking. An awkward wedge of silence slipped between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m probably boring you to tears. It’s just that I’m so wrapped up in this thing right now, it’s all I can think about.”

“Oh, no…it’s interesting…really. Especially since I don’t know very much about Calypso. I feel like a very well-informed voter now.” She smiled. “I guess I’d better get down to city hall and register to vote now, huh?”

John burst out laughing. “You mean I just sat here and wasted my two-hour lecture on somebody who can’t even vote?”

“Hey, don’t you worry. By election day I’ll be a bona fide registered Calypso voter.”

There was an easier silence between them now. Julia’s reservations about John had vanished in his presence.

He turned in his chair and leaned closer to her. “How is Andy doing these days? I remember he was struggling the last time we talked.”

The genuine concern on his face warmed her. “Things are getting better. We’re not home free yet, by any means, but we’re making progress. His teacher told me you talked to her. I really appreciate that, John. You went above and beyond the call of duty, if I can use an old cliché.”

He waved her thanks away. “Hey, it was no big deal. Like I told you, anything that affects the kids is part of my job.”

“You love kids, don’t you?”

He shrugged and flashed a self-effacing smile. “I have ever since I started teaching. I know it sounds crazy, but I didn’t decide to go into teaching because of my love for children. That came later. I was an only child, so I didn’t know anything about kids. Teaching seemed to be a noble thing to do. My father…”

He paused and looked at his lap, brushing at an invisible wrinkle in his pants leg. “My father was a lawyer who chose his profession for the money it would bring in. I guess teaching was my way of rebelling against him. He ended up dying before I got my degree, so it didn’t matter anyway.”