Chapter 14
“Ithink you’re a complete asshole.”
Julie walked by her, carrying an armful of folded towels, and put them in the trunk of her car. It was already loaded with several turquoise duffel bags, a pillow and a worn lavender comforter. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Becky.”
She never did unpack the things she brought to the loft apartment, quietly nodding when the officer explained they would be tagged as evidence and held for at least thirty days.
Shopping seemed like a better idea.
Reaching into her jacket pocket, she took out her keys before letting the warm down parka slip from her shoulders.
“This is for you.” She handed the coat to Becky.
“Don’t go.”
Tears threatened, fast and hot against her lashes. “I’m leaving,” she insisted, her voice a desperate rasp.
“Hank loves you. Hell, I love you.”
Julie opened her arms and hugged her tight. “I love you, too.” Slowly, she let her arms fall away from her friend. She climbed behind the wheel, numbly starting the engine. “I’ll call you when I get where I’m going.”
Red blotches mottled Becky’s ivory skin. “I’ll miss you.”
“Enjoy that promotion. You deserve it.”
She nodded, tears running freely down her face. “Drive safe, you stupid crazy bitch.”
“I will.”
Julie closed the door against the cold winter air and turned the key in the ignition.
With a sad smile and a wave at her best friend, she pulled away from the curb and headed toward the interstate.
Relief percolated through her mind, bringing with it the first real peace she’d experienced in what seemed like weeks.
After the incident, as she had come to refer to it, Hank had driven her to the police station in his SUV.
He seemed to understand that she needed to be left alone.
Julie was interviewed, and when she emerged she was grateful to find only Gwen waiting to take her home, a book of Sudoku puzzles in her lap.
“Hank said to tell you he loves you. He had some work to take care of in D.C.”
And she knew.
The military was Hank’s life, and it was the antithesis of hers. It was crazy to believe they could make it work.
She would be gone before he ever returned.
Moon Lake glistened silver in the morning sunshine, the Adirondack Mountains frozen in waves of purple and blue on the horizon.
Hank pushed the lawn mower over his mother’s rolling property, the noise from its engine drowning out all other sounds.
The muscles of his arms and back reveled in the exercise, while his mind enjoyed the simple monotony.
Anything to keep from thinking about Julie.
He’d gone looking for her when he got back from D.C., only to find a For Sale sign in front of her condo. The dread in his belly clawed at his insides as he drove toward Becky’s house, fearing he knew what she was going to say.
“She’s gone, Hank.”
“Where?”
Becky stood in the doorway of her bungalow, gazing at the horizon. “South. Someplace warm.” She looked at her feet, then back at him. “I told her not to go. Actually, I told her she was an asshole, but she went anyway.”
“Do you have a number for her? An address?”
“I do,” she bit her lip, “but I can’t give it to you, Hank. I’m sorry.”
He stepped backwards away from the door, down the walk, reeling from the events of the last hour. When did she leave? Why hadn’t he been here for her when she was making that decision? In his heart he believed he could have stopped her, convinced her to stay.
“Tell her I love her, Becky,” he said, his throat knotted with emotion.
“She knows.”
“Just tell her.” He pivoted on his heel and headed back to his car, not knowing where he would go or what he would do. He only knew he would go out of his mind if he couldn’t get to her, couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t touch her.
He finished mowing and released the safety bar, shutting off the engine. He pushed the mower back to the garden shed behind the house, finding his mother inside, potting up plants.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“Lawn’s done.”
“Thanks.” She scooped a handful of potting soil around the bare roots of a hosta.
Hank rolled the machine into its spot next to the wall. “I’m going to Vermont.”
“What for?”
He put his hands on his hips. “I’m going to ask Gwen for Julie’s address. What’s the worst that can happen? She won’t tell me?”
Marianne put the pot aside and picked up an empty one. “It’s about time, Hank. Give Gwen my love.”
The ringing of the doorbell set the dogs to barking as Gwen rolled the damp mass of spongy dough in cracked wheat berries. She set it in a wicker basket to proof, the final rise before baking on the stone she had heating in the oven.
She washed the flour from her hands and dried them on a fluffy red towel as she walked to the door.
A warm spring breeze blew in through the windows, carrying with it the sound of wind chimes from the front porch.
Gwen opened the heavy door to find Hank Jared standing with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Hi, Gwen.”
A warm smile lit her face as she opened the screen for him. “Hank! Come inside.” She opened her arms to him for an embrace of genuine affection. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
She walked into the kitchen, beckoning him to follow. “I was just finishing up some baking. Can I get you something to drink? I have some fresh iced tea.”
“That would be great.” It smelled like cookies as he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the island. “You can probably guess why I’m here.”
“Becky managed to hold out and not give you Julie’s address.” She reached into the refrigerator to grab the pitcher of tea. “She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it.”
“I need to see her, Gwen.”
“Yes, I know you do.” She grabbed a couple of chocolate chip cookies from the cooling rack and put them on a plate in front of him. “To be honest, I expected you to contact me sooner.”
Hank put both hands around his iced tea, looking into the glass.
“When I found out she was gone, I thought there must be some misunderstanding. She wouldn’t just leave without telling me where she was going.
So I went to Becky’s.” He looked her in the eye.
“That’s when I realized she hadn’t just left town, she’d left me. ”
Gwen looked into his deeply troubled eyes, her heart going out to him. He’d lost weight, but more than that he lost the warm glow that used to shine from his spirit.
“She’s in South Carolina.” Reaching into a tall cherry cupboard, she got herself a glass and filled it with the brew.
“After she got out of the hospital, she spent one night at Becky’s, then just packed up and drove away.
I don’t think she even set foot in her old condo, except to get her cat.
She called a woman who does estate sales and a Realtor and that was that. ”
“Can I have the address?”
She nodded, taking out a fabric address book from a drawer and copying it onto a small sheet of paper. She held it out to him.
“Be patient with her, Hank. I love her more than anyone, but running away is the only way she knows how to deal with her problems. Julie has never learned how to stay.”
“Well then, I guess I’ll have to teach her.”
“I wish you luck, my friend,” she said, smiling warmly.
Hank reached out and pulled her close for another hug. “Thank you, Gwen.”
“Take some cookies. It’s a very long drive.”
“I will.” He released her. “One more thing, as long as I’m here. Do you have any idea why your husband’s name would be associated with Admiral Barstow’s in a government computer database?”
Her eyes went wide. “David’s name?”
Hank nodded.
“I have no idea.”
Julie stood in the sunny yellow kitchen cutting slices of avocado, an orange tiger cat purring at her feet.
A vibrant plate painted with red and blue daisies was laden with salad greens, its edges chipped from age.
She added chunks of blue cheese and crumbled bits of bacon strips, haphazardly covering the pile with pieces of hard boiled egg and cold grilled chicken.
Grabbing a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade, she headed out the kitchen door and onto the screened porch, the humid air instantly covering the smooth glass with a fog of condensation.
This house had been a haven for Julie, a small painted lady with a pinky-red exterior and yellow shutters. The porch overlooked a lush garden bursting with plump vegetables, and a glorious weeping willow she imagined had been planted by the original owners.
She filled her days walking in the sun, weeding her garden, or reading on the porch.
It was only at night that the dreams of him came, sure as the moon rose into the sky.
She lay in his arms, desire a living, breathing animal with a will of its own.
Steeped in his scent, she surrendered to her lover once more, every touch marking her his, every emotion connecting their spirits.
With the sunrise and consciousness came a rededication to live without him, to keep her tears inside, to plan a future without Hank Jared. Some days, she even thought it was possible.
She sat eating her salad, swaying in a white wooden rocker, unaware that some bites had more chicken, others too much egg. She didn’t move when the doorbell rang, assuming it must be a delivery man or solicitor, and not caring to engage either one.
“Julie.”
He was standing at the corner of the house, next to the white rosebush. She stopped rocking and stared at him, shockingly handsome in khaki shorts and a fitted polo shirt. She hastily finished chewing the salad in her mouth and set the bowl aside, slowing rising.
“I couldn’t stay away.” He took a step toward her. “I tried to, but I missed you so damn much.”
Emotions came raging to the surface, choking her.
She covered her mouth with her hands. He moved more swiftly now, covering the distance that separated them, coming onto the porch, his eyes never leaving hers.
Then he was there, his arms around her, her face pressed into his neck, his scent surrounding her.
“Oh, Hank.”