Spring Rain (6 page)

Julia nodded her reluctant agreement. “He probably would. Why don’t you run up and visit with him for a while? Tell him your plans. He was taking a nap after he ate, but I bet he’s awake now and would love to see you. I’ll bring up some lemon meringue pie for both of you in a few minutes.”

“Lemon meringue? Your very own? Real, from scratch pie crust and not the stuff Mom uses?”

Julia cocked an eyebrow as her forkful of chicken stalled halfway to her mouth. “She cheats?”

Billy nodded solemnly. “She cheats.”

Julia clicked her tongue in disappointment. “How sad.”

The two of them grinned at each other, then looked at Leigh. She didn’t seem to notice them, let alone their teasing.

“It’s probably the package from Pop-pop,” Billy explained. “We found it when we got home from school.”

“Ah.” Julia nodded. More of Johnny Spenser would certainly explain Leigh’s distance.

“It wasn’t a very big package.” Billy slid out of his chair. “More like a giant envelope.” He eyed Leigh. “May I be excused, Mom?”

He made a face when she gave no sign of hearing.

“Go on.” Julia shooed him with her hand. “I’ll bring dessert up soon.”

Billy ran, calling over his shoulder, “Maybe Uncle Ted knows where we can get the dry ice to make the fog on the stage for our gigs. After all, he works in Atlantic City.”

“Your gigs? And what’s working in Atlantic City have to do with anything? Ted’s an accountant, not a performer.”

But he was gone. She shook her head at his retreating back. How he reminded her of Clay and Ted at that age. Clay had planned to be a football quarterback like Roger Staubach, and Ted wanted to be the next Steve Carlton and pitch in the major leagues. Now Clay was career navy, and Ted was going to die.

Julia closed her eyes against the sharp stab of pain. Sometimes, like now, a dagger of intense emotion pierced her, robbing her of everything but an overwhelming sense of failure. It was nothing like the agony when they had first learned their son was gay. Then Julia had been sure she’d die of the crushing pain.

“How did this happen?” she used to ask Will through her tears. “How did we raise a gay son? What did we do wrong?”

He’d pulled her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I don’t have any answers.” He sounded tired and overwhelmed. “I just know we don’t want to come between him and God.”

“What do you mean?” She looked into his wise, sorrow-filled eyes.

“We don’t want anything we say or do toward him to give him an excuse to ignore God and His standards by hiding behind us and our flaws.”

“You mean like, ‘Aren’t Christians supposed to be loving and kind and just look how you act? I don’t want anything to do with you or your God?’ ”

Will nodded. “Not that we don’t tell him what we think; we do. We already have. But we’re careful always to speak the truth in love.”

“The old love-the-sinner-while-hating-the-sin thing.”

“And it is a sin,” Will said. “Regardless of what society says these days. The Bible’s very clear on that in both the Old and New Testaments.”

Julia felt a great weight on her shoulders. “He knows that and ignores it.”

Will nodded. “But how many of us know something’s wrong and do it anyway? Not that that excuses him or us or anyone, of course. Wrong is always wrong. It’s just so human to act as we please and not as God asks.”

There was a lot of truth in that, Julia thought. A lot.

“Julia, he will always be welcome in our home.” Will’s voice was adamant.

Julia was startled. “Of course he will. He’s our son. We love him. But, Will, I’m dying inside.” And the ever present tears dripped from her chin onto his shirt.

She knew it wasn’t politically correct to feel that being gay was wrong. After all, it was the twenty-first century, and theoretically he couldn’t help how he was. She was supposed to accept him and everything about him, to feel pleased and proud of him.

Well, she was proud of him in so many ways. He was warm, generous, kind. He loved to help people, and nothing was too much to ask of him. No one could have been kinder to Leigh through the years or a better friend to Billy. And when Will died, Ted was there every day for months, just to check on her. He was
the one who had coaxed her to go out for her first dinner, to her first movie, on her first vacation without Will. And he’d gone to all those places with her, sometimes bringing Matt, his partner, sometimes coming alone.

But her feeling of failure never left.

“Oh, God,” she had cried into her pillow more nights than she could count. “What did we do wrong? Was I too overprotective? Did Will ignore him too much? How could You let this happen? Oh, God, give me strength!”

The blackness that often filled her as she lay sweating in the dark wasn’t just the cessation of light; it was the implosion of her heart. The weighty, piercing shards would lodge beneath her breastbone, making breathing difficult and sleep impossible. Through the years the pain had lessened until sometimes weeks passed between the nights of agony. Then had come the AIDS diagnosis, and the implosions began again.

She took a deep breath. Resolutely she put Ted and her failure from her mind for the moment. She thought of her pride in her other son. She didn’t love Clay more, but she understood him, appreciated him, agreed with him, thanked God for him. He was so much less complicated, and he loved God with his whole heart. She felt they were on the same wavelength in spite of his lengthy absences.

For a moment failure laughed at her again. If she were a better mother, surely Clay would come home more often. Why, he’d hardly been there even when Will died. It must somehow be her, or he’d like to visit if only to see Ted and old friends.

Pushing that thought aside—after all, he was coming home now—she began cleaning the table while Leigh, coming out of her trance, rose to help her. Leigh rinsed the dishes while Julia loaded the dishwasher.

Leigh. Julia smiled as she watched the young woman scrape most of her dinner into the sink to be chewed up by the garbage disposal. It wasn’t just Clay and Ted she was proud of. It was Leigh. What a wonder the girl was! Here was success, and in the best ways possible. And God had let Julia be part of it.

Eleven years ago, shortly after the boys had graduated from Seaside High, she had gone shopping at the Acme on Eighth Avenue. As she waited in the checkout line, she felt a rush of pity
for the poor, young checker as she watched the woman in front of her hand over a wad of discount coupons. The girl, a pretty thing with long chestnut hair and big brown eyes, stoically punched in all the numbers, flipping the coupons one at a time.
Tap, tap, ca-ching. Tap, tap, ca-ching.

Julia blinked as she felt a touch on her shoulder. She turned, but there was no one near. Strange. She picked up a copy of
Newsweek
and began flipping through it to pass the time. Suddenly there was a tap on her shoulder again, and again when she looked up, there was no one near her. Frowning slightly, she put the
Newsweek
back and reached for a gardening magazine. This time the tap made the back of her neck prickle.

That was when the voice spoke. Well, the voice didn’t actually speak. It more or less just filled her mind. H
ELP HER.

Feeling like a victim of
Candid Camera
, Julia shifted her eyes cautiously, looking for the jokester. No one was paying her any attention. Certainly no one else seemed to hear a disembodied voice.

H
ELP HER.

A shiver went through Julia as she tried to understand what was happening.

H
ELP HER.

“Who?” she blurted in something akin to panic.

“What?”

Julia blinked and looked at the cashier.

“Did you say something?” the cashier asked, her brown eyes curious. Her name tag read Leigh. Julia recognized her now as Leigh Spenser who had just graduated from Seaside High with the twins. She was a good friend of Ted’s. And, Julia thought with sadness, her mother was dead, and her father was in jail for a long, long time.

“Did you say something?” Leigh repeated.

“N-no,” Julia said quickly with a smile. How had her groceries all been checked already? She pulled out her checkbook and wrote a check that would get her twenty dollars change. She nodded to Leigh and hurried from the store, waiting for another tap on the shoulder at any minute or another “Help her.” But there was nothing. She began to relax. It had all been her imagination. Or maybe it was the beginning of menopause. Everyone said it did strange things to your mind.

That early July evening, she had a compulsion to walk the boards. She and Will rarely went near the boardwalk during the summer. They liked off-season walks when there was hardly anyone around but them, and the smells were surf and fresh air instead of grease for French fries and funnel cakes, spun sugar for cotton candy, or that distinctive popcorn aroma.

Will hadn’t protested her suggestion too much. He was passing time waiting for Mrs. Redmond to go into labor.

“Then the fun will begin since the baby’s breech,” he told Julia as they strolled. “Again.”

“How many is this?” Julia asked. “Six?”

“Seven. I just keep praying it’s her last. She can’t take much more.”

“Let’s get a soft ice cream,” Julia suddenly said and pulled Will across the boardwalk and through the throng until they took their place in line.

At the first tap she turned to Will and said, “What?”

He looked at her strangely and shook his head.

The second tap made her feel creepy all over.

The third tap sent her silently screaming to God.
Lord, what’s going on? Help me!

H
ELP HER
,
came the response.

Julia stilled, struck by a new and overwhelming realization.
Lord, is this You talking to me, tapping me?

H
ELP HER.

It is You!
She shivered and wrapped her goose-bumped arms around herself. She’d never experienced anything comparable to this in her life. God didn’t speak to her, Julia Wharton, not like this, in audible words. Or rather in audible impressions.

She loved God deeply, felt His presence, His love. She prayed regularly, daily, by the minute as needed, but this! This was incredible.

H
ELP HER.

“Who?” Julia said.

“What?” asked the girl behind the counter.

Julia started and stared. It was the same girl who had checked her out at the Acme. Leigh Spenser.

“Her?” Julia said.

H
ELP HER.

Julia stood transfixed, wondering what she was supposed to do for Leigh. “You work two jobs?” Julia asked, saying the first thing that came to mind.

Leigh looked at her and nodded. “What flavor?”

“I’m Mrs. Wharton, Ted and Clay’s mother.” Julia smiled. “Oh, and this is Dr. Wharton, their father.” She waved a hand at Will.

“I know,” Leigh said. “What flavor?”

“Vanilla for her,” Will said when Julia continued to stare. “Black raspberry for me.”

Leigh turned to get the cones.

A beep sounded. Will grabbed for his belt and the beeper there. He glanced at the number. “Mrs. Redmond.” He grabbed the cones and threw down some money. “Keep the change,” he called over his shoulder as he elbowed his way back into the mainstream pedestrian traffic. “Hurry up, Julia, if you want me to drop you at home.” He handed her the vanilla cone.

Julia took the cone and licked absently.
God, I can’t believe You spoke to me like that. I’ll help her, but how?

There was no voice now, but she knew, just knew, that God would show her how to help. What an adventure! What an honor! She couldn’t stop smiling.

Even now, eleven years later, the memory made her smile. Watching Leigh become such a wonderful young woman had been one of the great joys of her life.

“Let’s take dessert up to Ted’s room,” Julia suggested as she wiped off the counter.

Leigh nodded and began collecting cups and saucers, the teapot and cozy, plates and forks, sugar and cream. Julia cut generous pieces of pie, pleased at the consistency of the lemony custard. The meringue was high and light and browned just right. She smiled. Ted would love it. If he could eat it. The sores in his mouth were bothering him badly. She turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a dish of Junket. The custard would slide down easily if the pie were too much.

A car pulled into the drive.

Leigh looked at Julia. “Were you expecting David?”

Julia told herself not to blush as she shook her head.

Leigh grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands. “Maybe he decided to stop and see Ted.”

“Right,” said Julia with what she hoped was nonchalance. Dr. David Traynor was an infectious disease specialist, and Ted was his patient. The fact that he seemed as interested in Julia as her son made having him in the house difficult, uncomfortable, exciting, special.

I’m too old for this
, Julia thought, twirling the wedding ring she still wore on her right hand.
The last thing I want is someone interested in me romantically.

And you’re too old to lie to yourself, too, Julia Wharton. You’re so flattered you can hardly stand it.

Embarrassed, Julia had to acknowledge that truth. She was flattered. She just didn’t know what she was supposed to do about it. Or him.

David was a good-looking man, she had to admit. His dark hair was only slightly gray at the temples, and he carried very little extra weight about the middle. And he was tall. She liked tall men. Will had been tall. Ted and Clay were tall.

Forget tall
, she told herself.
Forget distinguished and delightful and humorous. Forget!

Instead, she remembered the first time he came to the house, ostensibly to see Ted. She’d known David for years. He and his family went to Seaside Chapel just like she and Will and the boys. She’d been friends with his late wife, Leslie. She’d grieved deeply when Leslie and their seventeen-year-old son, Adam, had been killed in a tragic accident on the Garden State Parkway several years ago. When Will died, David had been terribly kind and supportive. An old friend. A good friend.