The Battered Heiress Blues (26 page)

Pulling the utility ladder to the counter, I carefully climbed upward to the first cabinet. Rifling through the junk didn’t turn up the tools I needed. I started to try and reach over to the second one, but good sense invaded my decision making process and made me think better of reaching for things at that height. I decided instead, to get down and move the ladder over to the next cabinet. After dragging it across the floor, I climbed up again and started with the bottom shelf, hoping that my previous lack of organization wouldn’t hinder a good outcome. No corer. I reached blindly into the higher shelf. I felt the corner of what I thought was the peeler, but I couldn’t grip it well enough to pull it forward. I stepped on to the countertop, allowing a better view, when I heard the kitchen door open. The noise startled me. Realizing I was caught, I hugged the open shelves trying to balance my weight.

“Thank God, Gabe. Am I glad to see you? Don’t be mad. I couldn’t find the apple peeler.”

“Hi Jewels,” said the unmistakable voice with the British accent.

Clearly, I couldn’t speak. The orca whale was beached on top of the kitchen counter, trying not to fall from the shock and horror of what was about to take place. With the options of fight or flight, I only had one alternative. Maybe I could piss him off enough that he’d just leave.

“Hello pot,” I delivered in my best bitchy tone, unable to turn around and show him the glare in my eyes.

“Hello kettle,” he replied.

“Why are you here?” I asked in a more monotone voice.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” he said.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Her who?” he responded, acting dumbfounded.

“Her who? Were there more? Her who. Don’t be coy. Tricia. I mean Tricia.”

“What?”

“Did you sleep with Tricia? Is there something in the question you don’t understand? I think I’m being fairly clear.”

My feet were getting tired and my belly was hurting from pushing against the bottom shelf. Emma Grace was obviously getting aggravated with my body’s positioning as demonstrated by her quick movements.

“Yes.” His words were subdued. I could tell that he felt ashamed or at least caught.

“Yes what?” I inquired.

“Yes, I slept with Tricia,” he said exasperated.

I didn’t have a cunning bit of nasty words to toss back. I already knew the answer to the question I had asked. All the same, hearing the love of my life tell me that he shared a sacred piece of himself with a hussy like Tricia still cut me deeply. Men always say that they can separate sex from emotions and maybe that’s true, but for women, we’re typically all in. He might have sexed up Tricia to get back at me, but she was almost certainly attached to him now on an emotional level. Things were no longer neat and tidy, despite his resolve to be a player.

I had still not laid eyes on Henry. As much as I wanted to have this conversation face to face, to up the accountability factor, I was afraid to move. For all intensive purpose, I was arguing with a cabinet. The sound of the door opening again was followed by the voice of an angry friend.

“What the hell are you doing up there, Julia?” Gabe said disapprovingly.

“Relax, Gabe. She’s looking for something,” Henry interceded, with a twinge of jealousy in his tone.

“You relax. She is supposed to be on bed rest. Get down this instant,” he ordered.

“Bed rest?” said a confused Henry.

By the time Henry echoed his words, Gabe was at my side, slowly helping my foot find the next rung down on the ladder. When my feet finally hit the kitchen floor, Gabe released his hold on me.

“You need to get upstairs now. What were you thinking? You should have waited for me or John.”

“John? What’s he doing here? I thought he was in Europe,” he asked.

“My father is spending the Christmas holidays with us.”

There was no reason to delay any longer. There was no escape route that would spare me the inevitable action of turning and revealing my pregnancy. Just like I had decided months ago, I’d get it over quick and dirty.

“Could you leave us, Gabe?” I pleaded.

“Are you sure?” he replied.

“She’s sure,” said Henry intensely.

He gave my arm a light squeeze, gave Henry the evil eye, and walked into the drawing room. I slowly turned around and sat back against the ladder. The long black dress I was wearing hugged my protruding belly. The look on Henry’s face created a snapshot in my mind that would forever be engrained there. His eyebrows pulled together in the center and he scowled at me as I waited for his reaction. He said nothing, but I could see his mind racing a mile a minute.

“Let me save you the mental math, ace. The baby is yours. She was conceived at the boathouse. Remember me…the end of June?”

“Baby? Why didn’t you…?”

“Call you? I tried. Tricia answered the phone,” I said curtly.

“Tricia means nothing.”

“How sad for her,” I thought out loud.

“It’s not like that…she practically forced herself on me,” he said in his defense.

“Well, bless your heart. That must have been terrible for you. Poor Henry.”

We stood in a face off, both of us unsure of how to proceed. Henry stepped toward me, but his movement was halted by John’s entrance. I would have to thank Gabe later for tattle telling on Henry. No one man could intimidate Tru like my father. John walked over to my side and pointed in the direction of the staircase.

“Julia, go upstairs. You’ve exhausted your time limit out of bed today. The pie can wait until this evening. No arguments. Go.”

Even though I was a grown Southern woman, more stubborn than most men, I was never so glad to be sent to my room. Climbing the stairs felt like emancipation from despair and humiliation. I did wish that I could be a fly on the wall to hear my father sock it to Henry. Getting me pregnant was criminal enough, but Tricia was the icing on the cake. Henry Truman Walker…rest in peace.

When I reached my room, Gabe was lying horizontally across the end of the bed watching the news. I sat back against the pillows, assuming my usual position while he rolled back to address Henry’s arrival.

“You can’t seriously be considering taking that snake back. He’ll want the baby- not you. Isn’t Tricia proof of that?”

“Ouch.”

“Well, I don’t want to see you wasting your life on someone that doesn’t cherish you. You’re a package deal- you and Emma Grace.”

“We’re not…a package deal. He can be a father without being a lover, Gabe. Trying to fake an apathetic attitude and happiness without him will tear me up for awhile, but it will get easier. Hearts mend.”

“No they don’t. They just scar. You better get your game face on. The longing is clearly evident in your eyes. You aren’t the master of deception.”

“You’re worried about me? You better get your game face on. I’d expect the sassy Brit to join her brother by this evening. She’ll hop a plane once she hears the baby news.”

“You think she’ll…”

“Absolutely. I’d say you have five hours at the most to lose the longing in your own eyes. Good luck with that.”

“Yeah?”

Gabe shook his head like his mind was traveling in a million different directions. When I was about to give him a pep talk, his pager went off. After a quick call to the station, he was out the door and on his way to answer a domestic disturbance call on the other side of town. His parting words to me were to get some sleep. He would be back for dinner.

He’d thrown the covers over me as he left, but Emma Grace was an internal heater. I was hotter than a Southern bride in the summer. Tossing them to the side, I tried to quiet my mind and erase the events of the day. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw Henry. I finally envisioned a blank piece of white paper in hopes that thinking about nothing would make me forget everything.

The butterflies in my stomach took flight as I heard the bedroom door open. John had obviously not finished him off. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping that my acting abilities would fool him from trying to engage me in conversation. The mattress rippled with movement. I sensed someone moving toward me. An arm flew across my body and little fingers touched my face.

“Blue. Jewels. Jewels. Sleep. Sleep. Jewels sleep. Mattie sleep.”

My heart soared and my stomach calmed.

“Hi Little Man,” I said, rolling over to see his sweet smile. His hands were sandy. I could feel the grit rub my face as he touched my cheeks.

“Sleep. Sleep,” he said as he touched my eyelids.

“Yes. I will. Jewels and Mattie sleep.”

He pulled seashells from his pocket and dropped them between us. His head gently rested back on the pillows as he examined his new treasures. My lids grew heavy watching him sort them into distinct piles. I struggled against sleep. Mattie began to slow down and relax. Before drifting off myself, I saw his eyes finally succumb and close.

18

G
abe woke us for dinner. Mattie instantly became full on ready for play. He gathered his shells, jammed them into his pockets, and darted from the room.

“Any sign of Kate?” I inquired.

“Not yet,” he responded with a great deal of apprehension.

“Henry gone?”

“Good luck with that,” he replied, ever the smart ass.

“Kate hasn’t come and Henry won’t leave. What ever will we do?”

“You missed the fireworks. He and your dad had it out. He quit.”

“Who quit?” I asked, astonished at the prospect.

“John ordered him back to New York so Henry resigned his position with Spencer Industries.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m no fan of Henry Walker, but that’s pretty gutsy. He said that he would only leave if you asked him to go.”

“Goodnight then. Have a great meal. Lock the door on your way out.”

“Nice try. You can’t hide out here forever. He’s not going anywhere. If you want him gone, just tell him so. You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“Where is he?”

“Tommy is taking pity on him. They’re watching football.”

“I’m starving,” I said, hearing the rumbling coming from my stomach.

“I swear…you can eat through any emotion.”

“True. That smells delicious, though. What’s Momma Martin making?”

“Your favorites- fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and homemade buttermilk biscuits.”

“And desert.”

“Fruit,” he cautioned, knowing I’d be disappointed.

“Because I’m fat?” I asked solemnly.

“Because you’re fat.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

We made our way downstairs. Henry came into view as my foot hit the bottom step. He was in the drawing room, alone, reading John’s newspaper on the couch. I walked by him, without acknowledging his presence and proceeded into the kitchen. John looked happy helping Ms. Martin fry the chicken in the cast iron skillet. Sounds of oil popping gave cause to locate Mattie. Tommy had him in the television room watching the History Channel. The program was on the space shuttle and it seemed to capture his attention. Asking if I could help was immediately dismissed. With the last batch of chicken draining on the brown paper bags and the biscuits removed from the oven, we were all called to come into the kitchen for a casual meal.

Gabe and I were already seated when the others made their way to the table. I quickly solicited Mattie to sit by me which meant that Tommy and Henry would have to be paired across from us. John sat next to Mattie at the head of the table and Gabe’s mom mirrored him on the other end. Ms. Martin called after Henry who entered sheepishly, looking around to determine his seating options. With only two options left, he practically pushed past Tommy to take the empty chair near Ms. Martin. Sitting next to my father would have been far too risky with their earlier squabble.

Ms. Martin took the lead in ascertaining food preferences and filling plates. Gabe and I had already piled on our food while we had to wait for Henry to grace us with his presence. She prepared Mattie’s first, asking me to cut the chicken off the bone for him. I made steady progress cutting the meat into little pieces as she turned her attention to Henry.