The Comfort of Lies (34 page)

“I guess I’m beginning to.”

“And do you believe that I will never leave you?”

“I do.”

“Give me your hands,” Bobby said.

Tia held them out. He sandwiched them between his, and ran his thumb over her knuckles. His thick hands engulfed hers. “I love you.” This was the first time he’d said these words. “We can have a life together. You can redo my place however you like.”

Tia imagined living in Bobby’s large apartment with that broad ocean view, sliding across that glossy oak floor to make coffee in the morning, and seeing pure blue morning light instead of the ancient man across the side yard coughing and spitting into his handkerchief.

“We can be a family,” Bobby said. “I know it’s too soon for a ring. But we’re getting there, aren’t we? We can go all the way. We’ll get your girl back. I swear. I will work my damnedest to make sure you see her.”

And there it was. The last opportunity for Tia to tell Bobby about seeing Savannah and Nathan.

She took a roll and ripped it in two, and then in half again.

“Would you like wine or champagne?” Bobby asked. “To celebrate?”

“Celebrate?”

“Your job!” He reached over, took a piece of her fluffy white roll, and popped it in his mouth. “Your job. Us. Honor.”

Savannah.
She needed to tell him. Her name was Savannah.

CHAPTER 32

Juliette

Juliette and Nathan watched the Flag Day Parade from the curb, the equivalent of front row seats, smack at the corner of Rhinebeck’s largest intersection: Main Street and East Market. Juliette’s parents sat in folding stadium chairs, a container of lemonade on her father’s lap, paper cups on her mother’s. She assumed that water bottles were hidden in her mother’s large straw bag.

Juliette hugged her knees while she watched Nathan grin and pump his fist as Max jumped on and off his skateboard. Having Juliette and Nathan in the same place had lifted Max into a state of giddiness, and he was acting like a kid again. No matter how often Juliette reminded him that his father was just visiting, Max jumped around as though he were Roo and Juliette were his gently scolding mother, Kanga.

Juliette wished she could fly back in time to when she read A. A. Milne’s
Winnie the Pooh
to her sons, to when she and Nathan tucked in their boys each night and did that wonderfully cozy mommy-daddy thing where they simply gazed because the sight of their sons satisfied them.

Max was the easy one. Last night, when Juliette tried to talk to Lucas about Nathan’s impending visit, he asked Juliette to leave him
alone and shut up about the visit already. Who cared if
he
was coming? But once Nathan arrived, Lucas seemed to relax a bit more each minute.

Her mother’s words echoed. Perhaps nobody better than Nathan waited for Juliette. Certainly there was no one else who shared Max and Lucas, no one who’d want to die at bad news about the boys. The teenage years terrified her. Car crashes, drugs, pregnant girlfriends. She imagined the worst. Only Nathan could share that emergency room state of mind.

An antique fire truck came down the street, followed by a flag-festooned dump truck carrying a bright red Elmo.

A little girl wearing a Brownie uniform marched by, her mouth set in a grave line. She waved two pinwheels and gave a tiny hop-skip every few feet, reminding Juliette of her own turn in the parade. Years ago, Juliette had been chosen to carry the flag. She’d practiced for weeks, wearing a path up and down the driveway.

On that parade day, after blocks of marching in anticipation, when Juliette finally arrived where her parents sat, instead of searching for her they were talking to friends, her father with his arm hooked around her mother. Squeezing her eyes shut for one moment, she’d sent them thought waves.
Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!

Finally, her father had looked up, chucked his chin at her, and grinned. Then her mother clapped, her hands held up high, but it hadn’t been enough for Juliette; she’d wanted them to be watching for her, not catching sight of her by chance.

Nathan touched her knee with his. “Thanks for letting me come.” He looked as though she’d given him the moon and stars.

Her mother had warned her not to love Nathan so obviously.
Don’t dote on him so,
she’d said.
Otherwise, he won’t dote on you
.

Now, feeling his desperate want—see,
he’s
doting, Mom—she wanted nothing more than normal.
Their
normal. Before this mess. When they did things like eat dinner, read the paper, and all the adult versions of side-by-side play.

“The boys missed you,” she said. “They’re not used to being here without you. They don’t like it.”

“There’s no one to play basketball with them,” Nathan said.

“My father took them fishing,” Juliette said. Nathan appeared haggard. She wondered if his lack of sleep was from worry or something else. Like late nights.

“Your father fishes?” Nathan’s laugh lines crinkled. “Gordon? I didn’t think he even knew what sports were.”

Juliette shrugged. Nathan loved taking little jabs at her father. Perhaps the similarities between them—professors—forced Nathan to put down her father to bring himself up. An alpha thing.

“My mother says it’s good for his heart.” Juliette shaded her eyes and looked for the boys. She noticed Lucas pulling himself taller and puffing out his chest as the cheerleading contingent approached. What sort of lessons about women would her sons learn from Nathan? It frightened her that living apart could sour their outlook on love.

Before Nathan had left, the boys had worshipped their father. Now Lucas tracked him in wary circles, and Max offered the soft underside of his belly like a puppy begging for pats and approval.

“How about I take you out for a fancy dinner tonight?” he asked Juliette. “Just you and I.” Nathan tapped his fingers on the curb. Nathan and Max both had thick peasant hands. Lucas had the same long, articulated artist’s fingers that Juliette inherited from her father.

“You just arrived,” Juliette said. “We shouldn’t leave the boys.”

They hadn’t spoken about where he would sleep. Her parents had spare bedrooms galore, but she wanted him in her bed. What she didn’t want, however, was having that longing. Desire for Nathan weakened her.

“Then I’ll take everyone to dinner.” Nathan’s shoulder touched hers for a fleeting moment. “Unless you’d rather it just be us and the boys.”

“Let’s stay home. You can bring dinner in. That’s what I think the boys would like. We’ll be together without pressure.”

“How about later? After dinner, will we have any time alone?” Nathan started to take her hand, pulling back at the last moment, leaving her with just a brush of his flesh against hers.

“We’ll see.” She turned back to the parade before she could follow her craving to touch Nathan’s cheek. Old men marched by carrying rifles on their shoulders, wearing uniforms that hung over their hollow chests and strained across their stomachs.

It went by fast, a life.

 • • • 

Juliette wondered if they should have gone out, she and Nathan. Palpable expectations from everyone hung too heavy. She thought she’d scream if her father worked any harder to show that he was having fun, and even harder to ensure the boys saw it:
Look how heartily I am welcoming back your father!

Jolliness wasn’t part of her mother’s character, but she had charm, and tonight she used it to the maximum. She wrapped everyone in dry jokes after manipulating the seating so that Juliette and Nathan sat side by side. The dining room was suffused with the surfeit of candles her mother lit, the roses she’d crammed into too many vases, and the crackling tension of the boys’ hope.

Nathan pressed his leg against Juliette’s—probably what her mother had hoped for when she’d shoved them together. He didn’t remove it, and she didn’t pull away.

“This is great food, Dad.” Max heaped another portion of crispy orange beef onto his plate. “And I love this spinner, Mamie. We should get one at home.” He whirled the lazy Susan in the middle of the table into dizzying circles until Nathan stopped it with his hand.

“Just what we need,” he said. “More perpetual motion to drive us crazy.”

“This
is
great food,” Juliette said. “I wish there had been Chinese food in town when I was little.” She didn’t give a damn about the food, but she wanted to wash away the coziness of Nathan’s “us” reference before Max and Lucas settled into thinking,
Ah, Dad’s home
.

Nathan, her father, her mother, the kids—everyone wanted to weave her into a nice, tight fait accompli. Still, it was a relief to see her
sons acting normal. Lucas crumpled a straw wrapper and spitballed it at Max, who flicked rice back at him. Max wasn’t trying to be the perfect child. Lucas’s mouth had loosened.

“Enough, guys,” Nathan said. “Mamie doesn’t want you decorating her place in your food. If you’re finished eating, we can clear the table.”

“No!” Max brought his arm protectively around his plate. “I’m still starving.”

“Yeah. You look like you’re starving,” Lucas said.

“Be nice, Lucas. Here, try some of this.” Nathan ladled a heaping portion of shrimp in lobster sauce on Lucas’s plate.

A dwindling amount of Chinese comfort food covered the lazy Susan. Nathan had bought enough to feed three families, but they’d eaten as though they were ten instead of six. Even her mother nibbled at a piece of General Tso’s chicken.

 • • • 

Juliette and Nathan finally climbed the staircase to the second floor well past midnight.

The rest of the family had gone to bed hours before, obvious in their conspiracy to give them privacy. Lucas left the family room especially early, pretending he’d rather read than watch TV, giving a theatrical yawn after saying good night at nine. He’d held up an old copy of
Jaws
he’d found in his grandfather’s study, as though his parents required proof of his intent.

Nevertheless, Juliette remained reading on the couch for hours; at least, she appeared to be reading. In truth, she held a book and turned pages, but little registered. Instead she weighed pros and cons until she thought perhaps she’d go mad. She strained toward her husband emotionally, wanting nothing more than the safety of the private island made by a husband and a wife.

She wanted to hold that comforting cup of coffee.

Now they were alone behind the bedroom door. Juliette leaned against it as though keeping something out.

“You okay?” Nathan asked.

“Not really.”

“We okay?”

“Haven’t a clue,” she said. “Can we leave it alone? Just for now.”

“I’m not sure if I can.” Nathan put a hand on either side of Juliette, resting his palms flat against the door. “I need to talk to you, Jules. There’s so much to say.”

“Yes. I know.” However, if they talked, they’d probably never get to this. She rested her head on his chest. Or this. She touched him. “I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

That was the thing about making love with your husband. You could just damned well touch him. You didn’t need to wear lipstick or weigh the pros and cons.

He led her to the bed. She held him back for a moment while she threw off the antique patchwork quilt.

They fell down on the soft white cotton sheets. Juliette breathed him in.

“Let’s take our clothes off,” he whispered.

“No. Wait.” Decisions and choices flew through her in too-rapid succession. One second she wanted him more than breath, and then the next moment, she wasn’t ready to feel him without a barrier.

His desire was too apparent, and she felt too brutally hyperaware of everything.

“How was seeing her?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Either. Both.”

“We already spoke about it.” Her shoulder muffled his words.

“Yes. Right. But I don’t really know what happened.”

He struggled up and rolled off Juliette. “What happened to leaving it alone?” The moment the words were out, he forced a smile. “Sorry.”

Juliette remained flat on her back. The ceiling was perfect. Not one crack. Not a single water stain. “I thought I could, but I was wrong.”

Nathan looked good to her. She hated that.

He moved to embrace her.

“Don’t.”

“I don’t love her, Jules. I don’t know if I even like her anymore.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t sound offended. You haven’t earned that.”

“You’re right. It’s just that I hate that you think so little of me.” He lay on his side next to her. He put a hand on her chin, trying to turn her to face him, but she remained in place, staring at the flawless ceiling.

She couldn’t tell whether he was lying or telling the truth, but other than giving him a lie detector test, she didn’t know how to determine the answer. She’d read that you could tell by the eyes. Something about the person looking up to retrieve information versus looking down to tell a lie, but she couldn’t remember; it might have been the other way around.

“What about Savannah?” Juliette wouldn’t cry no matter what he said. She promised herself that if she didn’t cry, she could eat pancakes dripping with maple syrup for breakfast. She’d get her father to make them. Max would like that. She’d melt butter and heat the syrup. Put them in her mother’s tiny flowered pitchers.

“She’s quite a kid.”

“What does that mean, ‘quite a kid’? How?”

He fell back. Now both of them stared at the ceiling. “She’s an honest little girl. She was scared. She thought maybe we were coming to take her away. It must have been horrible for her. It was for me.”

“Why did you go together?”

“Honestly, Jules? I’m not even sure. First Caroline went to see Tia—don’t ask me why, I haven’t a clue—then Tia went nutty and called me right after. She said she didn’t trust Caroline’s motives and that we had to make sure Savannah was safe with her.”

Juliette snorted. “Sure. I believe that.”

Nathan rolled over on his side. He put a hand on her hip. “What do you think? Why do you think Caroline met with Tia?”