Summer Shadows (22 page)

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

She grew uncomfortable. “So, back to the kitchen,” she said, with forced brightness.

He nodded and scanned the room, then flipped a few pages of the magazine and showed her a ‘before’ picture of an old kitchen. It was done in 1970s avocado, gray, and a dull mustard trim. “How’s this?”

He laughed out loud at the expression on Julia’s face.

28

W
ednesday, they had lunch in a small diner that the Wildes recommended. Robert insisted on picking up the bill. Julia objected, and the playful debate raged on until Amelia and Ron both demanded that they knock it off and play nice.

Back at the house, the children played outside while Robert and Julia painted the living room and dining room a sunshine yellow with a white trim.

After a while, Ron came in to help. They put the living room back together, keeping the furniture well away from the wet walls, and cleared out the office. Then Robert decided that they could move the refrigerator out of the kitchen so they could clean the tiled, and he and Ron began discussing logistics.

“While you guys are at it,” Julia said. “I’ll order dinner. Any requests?”

“Chinese!” Amelia shouted.

“Chinese is good,” Robert said.

Julia went to find her cell phone and Amelia followed her, suggesting a local delivery place. After the order was placed, they began to set up the porch for a picnic dinner.

Outside, the sky turned pink and teal as the sun made its slow decline. It was quiet, except for the noise of the crickets and Mrs. Jurta’s dogs barking in the distance.

Amelia sat by the edge of the blanket, her legs folded underneath her, and her hands on her knees. She nodded towards Mrs. Jurta’s house. “They always get really excited when we start to bring out the bowls.”

Julia asked if Amelia missed working with the dogs.

The little girl answered quickly, “Oh, they love me. They bark so loud when I come in, and none of them ever tried to nip at me, like they do the others.”

“They must like you best, then.”

“Mrs. Jurta says that when they do nip, it’s just because they are excited, not because they don’t like you. I think they do like me best. Mrs. Jurta says it’s because I’m the smallest, but Annie says that it’s because I like to sing and dogs like music.”

Julia finished setting up the picnic, then, because the air was so nice, sat on the stairs next to Amelia and asked, “Who is Annie?”

Amelia smiled at her. “She’s the vet. She’s nice. She always gives me candy, even though I’m not supposed to have it because of my teeth, but I never get cavities. Do you get cavities?”

“Sometimes. I stopped drinking soda and that helped a lot.”

While Amelia thought about that, Julia leaned against the railing and relaxed. She was tired, and her stomach ached with hunger. A beautiful breeze stirred the warm air, playing with her hair and soothing her.

She closed her eyes and thought of Ryan. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the memory, though still painful, had lost its sharp sting. She wondered whether Robert had anything to do with that, and the idea brought a hot flush to her face.

“I did get a cavity once,” Amelia said, her tone heavy with the confession.

Julia turned to look at her. “Oh, did you?”

She nodded, without meeting Julia’s eyes. “Yes. I had forgotten.”

“It’s easy to forget these things.”

“It was a baby tooth, so they didn’t have to drill. They just waited for it to fall out.” There was a pause, then, “I lied.”

Julia kept her voice level. “I see.”

Amelia shifted closer to Julia and mimicked her pose, and they sat like that for a few minutes. Behind them, they heard the boys laughing and, beyond them, Dana and Jack were talking loudly in the bathroom, where Dana was giving her brother a bath. In a few minutes, Julia knew, the quiet on the porch would be traded for laughter and chatter. She relished the peace.

After a bit, the little girl spoke again.

“I’m not a liar.” Her voice trembled. “I just… Well…”

Julia waited quietly.

“It sounds better when I make it up,” she admitted. “Sometimes it makes people mad when I tell them the truth.”

“The truth can hurt,” Julia agreed. She couldn’t resist asking, “Who would get mad at you, anyway?”

“Mom. She’s really busy, and sometimes she doesn’t have time for the whole story. So I make one up.”

“And what does your dad think about it?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“No?”

“No, he’s busy, too,” she explained. “Sometimes Mom wants me to tell him things that’ll make him sad.”

“So you tell him something else instead.”

Amelia lowered her head and nodded. “And then I started telling stories about other things. So that people wouldn’t worry, you know? Dad worries a lot. I worry about him, too. I’m the only one who looks after him now, now that Mom’s gone. He’s all alone except for me.”

Julia put an arm around her and drew her in close. “It’s hard to be in the middle, isn’t it?” She squeezed. “You’re a good girl, Amelia.”

Amelia swallowed hard. “But I lied. I lied to you and to Dad and to… Well, almost everyone. That’s not good.”

“No, maybe it isn’t. But I forgive you, and you can make up for it by telling the truth from now on.”

“What about Dad?”

“The next time your mom tells you to pass on a message, just ask her politely to tell him herself. She’s a big girl.”

Amelia’s voice would have melted the cruelest heart. “Why does Mom do that?”

“I don’t know, Amelia. When people are hurt, sometimes they react by trying to hurt other people. It’s not right, but sometimes it’s the only way they know how to help the pain.”

“Like when my cat scratches because we picked him up wrong?”

Julia nodded. “Sure, like that. Your cat knows it’s the wrong thing to do, but it’s the only way he can tell you that he doesn’t like something. Now, you don’t hate your cat because he does that sometimes, do you?”

“No. I mean, sometimes I get mad, but not for long.”

“And even though he may hurt your feelings, you get over it, and still love and take care of your cat, right?”

“Right.”

“Because you’re a big girl and you know better.”

“Yes. Sometimes, though, I have to tell him to stop when he does it to other people.”

“Exactly! With people it’s the same. Your mother shouldn’t hurt your father and vice-versa. But your father is a big boy now, and even though his feelings get hurt, he knows that your mother is just hurting, too. Eventually both of them will be all right. But you have to let them do this themselves. It’s the only way they’ll get better.”

“I don’t like it when my dad is sad.”

“I know. But he has to walk through this. He’ll be stronger because of it. Besides that, he has a secret weapon that your mother doesn’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“You, of course. He’s got you.”

Amelia shook her head. “I don’t think I’m very much help sometimes,” she said sadly. “I get in the way. Dad’s always having to find people to look after me, and sometimes he has to cancel things with the boys just because he needs to stay home. I heard Bill tell him once that he needs to get out more, but Dad told him no because I needed him. Dad says he likes to hang out with me, and that he’d rather be with me than anyone else in the world, but, well, I don’t know… What if he was just trying to make me feel good?”

“Amelia, does your dad lie?”

“Never!” The answer was swift and shocked.

“Then why don’t you believe him now?”

Amelia had no answer. When Robert came out and sat on the steps to wait for the food, she curled up against him, and the three of them watched the gathering dusk together.

29

L
ater that evening, Julia was alone in the dining room. It had turned out very nicely, and she wanted a clear idea of how she wanted things arranged before they started bringing the furniture back in. The kids were in bed, worn out from the past three days, and she sat on the dusty floor with her sketch pad, a cup of coffee, and her glasses.

There wasn’t room for much: the table, chairs, and maybe the narrow sideboard on one wall. She liked the sideboard, but it was in desperate need of refinishing and she doubted she’d have time to do anything about it.

She sketched out the furniture arrangements using Dana’s colored pencils. Julia wasn’t an artist, but as she drew, she grew excited. Her drawing became less what should be and more what could be. She drew the wooden table, imagining it polished to a bright shine with a blue and white runner down the middle. She put a vase with daisies and yellow carnations on the table. On the sideboard was another runner with more flowers in a big old pitcher and cabinetry underneath to hold dishes, cutlery, and glasses. On the light yellow walls, she hung three decorative China plates in a pyramid. There were three long windows in the room, so she dressed them in bamboo shades under light translucent green curtains that ended just short of the floor.

Julia stopped and looked at the sketch. It was cozy and warm, just right for a growing family. She imagined holidays in that room: Halloween, with a huge punch bowl and paper bats hanging from the ceiling fan; and Thanksgiving, with the two doors into the living room open, and the table extended to fit everyone. On Christmas morning, the sideboard would be loaded with pastries, garlands, and decorations, and the living room doors would be open again so that people could eat and open presents at the same time…

She berated herself. What was she thinking? They would be long gone by then, decorating the Springfield house as Amanda would have, so that the kids would have continuity. Someone else would have this house – they would probably repaint the room and maybe even knock down a wall.

Julia got up, put away the pencils, and left the sketch pad on the kitchen table. She made herself a cup of tea and pulled out
Picturesque in Death
. She read to the point where Daphne, supposedly alone in the mansion, began to be unnerved by noises that heralded the approach of the murderer.

Julia heard a knock at the door.

Her nerves nearly got the better of her. It was all she could do not to answer it with a kitchen knife in her hand.

She got to the side entry and hesitated. There was no window and no peep hole. She made a mental note to get one installed.

While she was thinking, there was another knock. Ron called to her from the top of the stairs.

“Do you want me to get it for you?” he asked.

She was about to reassure him when they both heard the voice calling through the door: “Julia? Are you there?”

It was Robert. Julia opened it and was relieved when the shaft of light fell across his friendly face. He stepped in quickly, shutting the screen door behind him.

“Don’t want to let the bugs in,” he said. He jerked his head towards the door. “You might want to consider getting a peep hole for that door. I didn’t realize until now how vulnerable that is.”

Julia was pleased that he’d thought of that, and then remembered that he was a policeman. It was probably just instinct, she decided.

Suddenly, the entryway seemed small and Robert seemed a little too close. Julia took a step back and stumbled over the bottom step of the stairway. She grabbed the banister, but not before Robert caught her arm and pulled her up.

“Easy does it,” he said. “It’s dark in here.”

His hands remained on her elbows.

Embarrassed, she brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, partially to cover her face with her hand for a moment, and partially to shrug his hands off. “Honest, Officer, I haven’t been drinking.”

“I see,” he said playfully, and she could see that he was trying to ease the awkwardness of the moment. “You wouldn’t want to walk a straight line for me, would you, miss?”

“I would, if you would just stop moving it for a moment.”

He laughed and she felt relieved. She led him into the kitchen, where the light was. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” he said. “I left Amelia asleep on the couch and I don’t want to leave her for too long.”

“Well, then, what can I do for you? Did you forget something?”

“My phone - have you seen it anywhere?”

She hadn’t, and a check of the counters revealed nothing. He looked worried, and Julia suspected that their cell phones were the only ones in the house. He couldn’t risk missing a call, not when it could be an emergency.

Ron came in, tying his robe across his pajamas although it was another warm night. He volunteered to look around in the living room and Robert checked the stack of things in the dining room. But it wasn’t there either.

“I probably dropped it outside somewhere,” Robert said, running his hand through his hair.

“Is it on ringer?” Julia asked.

He couldn’t remember, so Julia called it. All three stood still, listening.

“I think I hear something,” Ron said. He was in the hallway, looking back and forth. “Call it again.”

She did, and she and Robert went to stand next to him. This time, they heard it as well, a distant humming sound.

Ron found it in the bathroom, under a towel on the sink. Robert looked relieved, and Julia found herself volunteering to walk him out.

“Want to make sure I get there safe?” he asked, grinning.

Julia said, “You never know who might be lurking around these parts.”

Robert held the door open for her and they stepped out into the warm darkness.

Ron waited at the top of the stairs. It took several minutes for Julia to return. When she did, she slipped in quietly, and leaned against the closed door, silent and thoughtful.

After a moment, she sighed dreamily and moved towards the kitchen, catching sight of Ron.

“Did Officer Wilde get home all right?” he asked, almost too innocently.

“Yes, he did,” Julia said. “Thank you for waiting up for me, but you’d better get to bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

She gave him a distracted kiss, and he went to bed reluctantly, curious what - if anything - was going on between Wilde and his aunt.