Her days became a manageable routine, mornings at the hospital with Charles, late afternoons and evenings at home with the children. The hours in between she spent at the office, her only sanctuary. Feeling guilty that so much of the load was falling on Claire, she drove herself in a frenzy, trying to accomplish a full day’s work in a few hours. Claire finally sat her down one afternoon, told their secretary to hold their calls, and shut the office door.
“Enough,” she said. “You’re not Superwoman, nor does anyone expect you to be. The Hot Ticket campaign is moving along and only requires maintenance at the moment. Believe it or not, I can handle the rest until things settle down.”
“I just feel so guilty dumping all this on you.” Julia stared at her friend, misery wrapped around her like a cloak.
“I’m happy to be dumped on. Right now, everything’s under control. Save your strength for when I really need you. Take some time for yourself and spend the rest with the kids.”
“I’m taking them to see Charles on Monday, when they move him into a private room. I think it will be less intimidating for them.”
“Let’s hope Charles will be less intimidating.”
“Claire, for God’s sake. The man is dying. Cut him some slack.” Yet the same thought rattled around in her head.
“Honey, regardless of his physical condition, Charles has a lot to make up for in the way he’s treated you and the kids. Just keep that in mind while you’re running yourself ragged with this.” She scanned Julia’s face carefully before she spoke again. “Luke’s been calling.”
“Luke.” She drew out the syllable. God, how she missed him.
“Yes.” She grinned. “You know, the man with the sexy voice.” The grin disappeared. “He’s concerned about you, sweetie. He wants to talk to you.”
“I can’t, Claire.” Julia felt tears gather behind her eyelids. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t push away thoughts of Luke, his warmth, his tenderness, his passion. “What can I say to him? I feel so damn guilty about everything as it is. I’m afraid if I hear his voice I’ll want to dump everything and run to him. I have to think about the twins. I certainly can’t ask him to come here, in this unholy mess.”
“You can dump the guilt, Julia.” Claire made a sound of disgust. “I heard what Rombauer said about Charles’s physical condition. Nothing you did precipitated this attack. Or its aftereffects. Nothing.”
Julia looked up at her friend, pain lancing through her. “Then why do I feel like it’s my fault?”
“Probably because Charles has you conditioned to accept the fact happiness isn’t something you deserve. Call him, honey. Call Luke. He desperately wants to hear your voice for himself.”
Julia shook her head. “I can’t. I couldn’t handle it. I’ll call him when Charles is out of the hospital, my life is somewhat back on track and I can get back to making plans. You talk to him, okay? Please?”
“And what exactly shall I say?”
“Tell him I love him and I’m sorry,” she whispered and fled to the powder room.
Despite her continued fatigue and the incipient nausea that never seemed to ease, despite the ache in her heart for Luke, whom she forcibly banished from her thoughts, she somehow managed to prepare herself to be compassionate with Charles. He was ill, he was dying, and she was ready to provide whatever support he needed. From a distance. She would forget the emotional wasteland of the past eight years and do her best to give him aid and comfort. Perhaps the heart attack would make drastic changes in his personality, give him a new outlook on life.
Yeah, right. She knew that only happened in fairy tales.
Those first couple of weeks turned out to be the easiest. Charles remained in CICU and heavily sedated. Their communication consisted mainly of him squeezing her fingers whenever she placed her hand in his. Besides, what could happen in five minute visits?
When they moved him to a private room, the heavy sedatives were cut back. Charles grew more alert, and she discovered if anything, he was more irascible and domineering than ever. He criticized everything, bullied the nurses, and bemoaned his situation. Julia, of course, was the repository for his venom.
“Why do you do it?” Claire asked. “For all intents and purposes, you aren’t even married to him anymore.”
“I feel so guilty,” she cried for the hundredth time. She blew her nose. “Jesus, I’m turning into a whiner and a dishrag. Smack me, will you?”
“I would if I thought it would do any good.” Claire studied her, eyes filled with sympathy. “Julia, Luke calls every single day. The man is in torment. Please, please, please just give him one call.”
“I can’t.” Julia turned away. “If I hear his voice, I’ll lose it.”
“Honey, he’ll wait for you until this is over. You know it. All he needs is one word from you. Why are you so insistent on punishing yourself? This is not your fault.”
Maybe she didn’t deserve any happiness. She’d made such a poor choice in her hungry need for a family and stability. Now she was paying the price.
“I’ll see.”
“Charles will probably be dead in six months.” Claire’s voice was hard. Pragmatic. “Are you going to give up what appears to be the best thing ever to come into your life for some idiotic notion of wearing a hair shirt?”
“And exactly how would I explain to my children when their father was dying, I was planning my future with another man?” she snapped.
Claire threw up her hands. “I give up.”
When Julia finally brought the children to see Charles, it was emotionally exhausting for everyone. Despite her careful preparation, walking into the room and
