Authors: Linda Cassidy Lewis
“A nap sounds good,” Dave said, jumping up to follow. “Meet you later for cocktail hour.”
The sun hung low in the west as Dave walked down the hall toward the deeply shadowed main room of the cabin. Near the end of the hall, he stopped in his tracks. A figure stood at the fireplace, facing away from him.
“Tom?” There was no answer. Dave continued into the room, hitting the light switch as he passed it. Tom stood with his right hand extended toward the mantel.
“Tom,” Dave repeated, louder this time and from a distance of less than five feet. Slowly, Tom turned his face toward him, the tear tracks on his cheeks glistening. “Hey!” Dave punctuated his yell with a clap of his hands.
Tom blinked twice—and woke. He sniffed and then rubbed his eyes. “Must be an allergy,” he muttered. Then he grinned. “Hey, we sort of went into extra innings on those naps, didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” Dave said warily, “I guess we did.”
“I’m starving, man, but frozen pizza doesn't sound so good. You want to head over to the marina for dinner?”
Dave studied his brother’s face. “Are you all right, Tom?”
Tom laughed. “Sure. Why?”
“Were you sleepwalking . . . or something?”
“Huh? When?”
“Just now. When I called your name, you didn’t answer. And you aren’t sniffing because of an allergy. You were crying.”
Tom wiped at his still damp lashes. They stared at each other for several seconds, but Tom offered no explanation for what Dave had seen.
“T. J. . . . I want you to promise me you’ll schedule an appointment with a neurologist. These visions, this ghost thing could be symptoms of something physical, something serious. Will you promise?”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll do that when I go back home.”
Dave smiled and clamped a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Let’s go eat. Your treat.”
Tom was grateful that Dave left the heavy talk until after they’d eaten dinner. Now, as they drank their coffee, he began.
“Let me tell you something about Mom,” he said. “I tried hard in those last months to understand her, to excuse her for being a rotten mother. She ignored my questions about why she’d done this or that. So I gave up asking, but I started listening. After a while, I heard the flip-side of all her complaints and realized what she was really saying.”
“You mean even her complaints were double-edged?”
“I mean that when she said, ‘I guess Tom’s too busy building half the houses in Indianapolis to call me,’ she meant she was proud of your success.”
“Ha! She meant what she said.”
“She loved you, Tom. She loved us both. And I finally realized that she loved Dad—”
“Like hell.”
“Will you shut up and listen? I believe it’s true. There was something in Mom that wouldn’t let her show emotional need.”
“She had no trouble expressing her
material
needs.”
“Exactly. Don’t you see? That was a mask.”
“A mask?” Tom shook his head in disbelief. “Since when did you switch your practice from cardiology to psychology?”
Dave drank the last of his coffee. “Actually,” he said, “it was Becky who pointed that out to me.”
Tom smiled. “Well, I respect Becky’s opinion, but I have a hard time believing Mom pushed us all away because she couldn’t say she loved and needed us.”
“Do you?” Dave leveled his gaze at Tom and held it. “How’s your relationship with Julie?”
* * *
Stoically, Julie had made it through the hours of shopping, the star-spangled lunch, Eddie’s tour of Beverly Gardens Park, and dinner at Matsuhisa, but she could not face the show at the Laugh Factory. She pleaded exhaustion, Eddie commiserated, and Patricia followed Julie to her room—
their
room.
Julie walked straight to the bar, grabbed a glass and a bottle of wine, and headed to the bathroom for a long soak in the tub. Quickly, before her
shadow
could sidle in to keep her company, she locked the door behind her.
June 25
M
aybe it was Dave’s company, maybe it was also the respite from visions and dreams, but this morning Tom felt almost hopeful. He poured himself another cup of coffee from the thermos and sipped it while he watched the wisps of morning mist glide toward him to mingle with the steam from his cup.
Dave guided the boat into a cove and lowered the trolling motor. “I’ll bet you twenty bucks I beat anything you pull out of the lake today.”
“You’re on,” Tom said. “I feel lucky.”
* * *
Julie lay in bed, eyes closed, savoring the sensation of peace in the space between sleeping and waking. The effects of the wine she’d drunk last night had long since worn off, but she was floating just the same. She’d been dreaming of when Lindsay was a baby and she and Tom were so much in love.
“You’d better get ready,” Patricia said. “Eddie will be expecting us downstairs soon.”
Julie’s pink cloud dissipated, crashing her back to earth. “Eddie can wait,” she snapped.
“Well, aren’t we grumpy this morning.”
“Are we, Patricia?
We
seem to be joined at the hip lately. Why don’t you and Eddie leave me alone for ten minutes today? Could you do that?” She got out of bed and turned toward her tormentor. Tears welled in Patricia’s eyes. Julie sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I understand.”
“No, it’s not all right. I know you wanted this to be a fun trip and Eddie’s paying an arm and a leg for all this. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s just bad timing . . . this thing with Tom.”
Patricia was by her side in a second, hugging her. “Oh, but I
do
understand. You’re stressed. What you need is some sunshine. How about a trip to Malibu? Eddie knows this place—”
“Yeah, sure,” Julie said. With another sigh she turned toward the bathroom, “I’ll be ready as soon as I can.”
* * *
When Tom and Dave stepped out of the boathouse, Lindsay called out from the porch. “Hey Dad, catch anything?”
“Let’s just say I’m twenty dollars richer.” Tom laughed as Dave grumbled. He climbed the steps to the porch and hugged her. “I’m glad you came out to join us. You come alone?”
She beamed. “Eric’s inside. You must be having a good time with Uncle Dave. It’s nice to see you looking relaxed and happy again.”
“Hi, Tom,” Eric said as he stepped out the door.
“Hey, Eric.” Although it never set well with him when Lindsay’s friends called him by his first name, in Eric’s case Tom preferred it to the frightening alternative
dad
. He turned back to Lindsay. “You take the master bedroom tonight. Eric and I will take the bunks in your room.” Tom caught the amused look that passed between Lindsay and Eric, but he felt he’d asserted his parental authority without being too uncool.
Dave spoke up, avenging the fishing bet. “In other words, you two will not get up to any hanky panky under his roof. No way, no how, never, ever, over his dead body.”
Tom flashed daggers at Dave, but he didn’t really mind the laughter at his expense. He was having a good day.
“If one of you clowns wants to get the grill going,” he said, “I’ll cook lunch.”
An hour later, stomachs full, Tom and Dave sat smoking on the screened porch. Eric and Lindsay had taken the boat out on the lake, but they hadn’t gone far because Lindsay’s laughter drifted back to them in the stillness of the afternoon.
“She laughs like her mother,” Dave said. “My God, I just flashed back to the day you met Julie. Right here. About this time of year too.” He turned to Tom, his grin wide. “I’m surprised the sound’s not still echoing.”
Tom’s brow creased. “What sound?”
“The sound of you falling. The mighty Tom, felled with one look from sweet Julie.”
Tom shook his head, but he couldn’t help smiling. “I played it cool though.”
“Which was a good thing; she couldn’t have handled the full T. J. whammy.”
“Damn right.” They laughed together. Tom grew silent remembering. Knowing Julie was out of his league, he’d taken a risk that day and made a play for her anyway. But to his surprise she didn’t reject him. Until now. “
Jeezus
. Julie’s going to divorce me.”
“What she said and what she does could well be two different things. To me, that phone call seems so out of character for Julie, I have a hard time believing it was her idea.”
Tom lit a fresh cigarette from the butt of his last. “No one held a gun to her head.”
“I’m just saying, I think she’s being influenced. She’s with that overbearing friend of hers, right?”
“Patricia.”
And Eddie
.
“I only met the woman that one time, but something about her didn’t sit right with me. Seemed like she was hiding something.”
“Well, she’s not hiding anything when it comes to her dislike of me. That’s out in the open.”
“Then Patricia’s ignorant. What does Julie see in her?”
“Well, not to put a guilt trip on you, but Becky was Julie’s closest friend, and when you guys moved away, she was lonely. She hired Patricia to help her decorate the house and sort of latched on to her . . . or vice versa. Then they started working together, and now Julie’s decided she wants to sell real estate, so Patricia’s been helping her study for the exam.”
“That’s too bad.” Dave was quiet for a minute. “You know, there’s plenty of work for contractors in Florida. Real estate agents too.”
“And people in Indiana also have heart problems.”
“Well . . . maybe when Becky’s parents are gone.”
That lump was forming in his throat again. He put a hand over his eyes and swallowed hard, but the tears came anyway. Dave sat in silence until Tom got himself back under control.
“Tell me the truth, Tom. Are you sleeping with Annie?”
“I swear to God, no.”
“
Did
you?”
“No. Never. We talked a lot. I had dinner with her and breakfast once. We . . . I kissed her. Twice.”
“Kissed. That’s all?”
Tom kept his eyes on the lake. “That’s not all I
thought
about doing.”
“Yeah, well, that’s no reason for her to divorce you. I’d bet money Julie’s had those same thoughts about at least one man in the last twenty-three years. So here’s the plan—when she gets home, you confess your sins of kissing and talking and eating with the other woman and ask for Julie’s forgiveness. Then you keep on talking until you fall in love with each other again. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He’d do his best to follow Dave’s plan, but he had doubts. He’d told Dave the truth
as far as he knew
. There was still the matter of those blackouts and what he might have done during those hours he couldn’t remember.
* * *
As they stepped from the elevator, Eddie announced, “I’ve ordered brandy and coffee for us all.”
Julie held back a sigh. She’d been drowsy all day and would have preferred getting to bed early, but she followed Eddie and Patricia toward his suite. Room service arrived a moment after Julie slipped off her shoes and curled in a corner of the sofa. Patricia sat in an armchair smiling at Julie between sips of her coffee.
“You were so quiet today, Julie,” Eddie said. “I thought you might want to sit and talk tonight.” He crossed the room to the desk.
“I have a lot on my mind,” she replied. “But I haven’t had time to think anything through since we’ve been here.”
Eddie, holding a small envelope in one hand and his brandy in the other, settled beside her on the sofa. “You may not agree, Julie, but I’ve always felt that my second thoughts were never as clear as my first ones.”
“I
have
been having second thoughts . . . about the divorce.”
“Yes,” he said, “I thought you might.”
“I mean, after twenty-three—”
“After twenty-three years you deserve better than having to see these.” Eddie lifted the flap of the envelope, withdrew several photos, and handed them to her.
Julie’s heart sped up even before she glanced at the photos. By the time she comprehended what she was seeing, her body was shaking in time to that rapid beat and a low moan was rising from her throat. A song of pain. Tom. Another woman. The photos showed the woman with her legs wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back.
Slut
. The heat of Julie’s anger set her face ablaze.
She jumped to her feet, clutching the photos in a hand held out to Patricia, to Eddie. “Look at them! Just
look
at them!”
Her vision distorted with tears, she stumbled to the door.
* * *
Tom answered the cabin phone on the second ring.
“You son of a bitch!” yelled Julie. “You make me
sick
. I didn’t want to believe it was you.”
“What—”
“I saw the photos, Tom, but I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right there in public . . . where anyone could
see
you. Oh,
God
.”
Julie’s voice shook and it took him a few seconds to make out her words, but he felt the impact of them immediately.
She knows everything
. He felt as if every organ, every muscle, every bit of everything inside him was suddenly free-floating. He had no weight, no substance. Julie had cut him loose—and he was the one who’d handed her the knife.
“What pictures?”
“The ones of you and
her
. On the hood of my car.
My
car.” She broke down.
Her sobs wounded him far worse than her words had. He’d answered the wall phone in the kitchen. Now he turned his back to the table where he, Dave, Lindsay, and Eric had been playing poker and pressed his forehead against the wall.
Abracadabra
. One of his blackouts dissolved. Behind closed eyes, he saw it all, remembered it all. He and Annie in the parking lot of the Coach House.
Oh, God
. He couldn’t deny what those photos revealed. He had no defense against the truth. There was no need for more questions. He didn’t need to ask who had shown her the photos. Good old Eddie had turned out to be lousy at secret keeping, but good at picture taking.
“Julie, please, I don’t know—”
She shrieked. “You’re going to be one sorry son of a bitch.”
When the dial tone assaulted his ear, his lighter-than-air body slammed down to earth, weighing tons. Numb, he hung up the phone.