Their fear of the situation was palpable, and Charles, totally self-involved, did nothing to ease their panic. Julia forced herself to keep her voice and attitude cheerful and reassuring, but she was happy when they could escape to the car. Beth and Andy were deathly silent on the drive home, and not even Miranda could coax a smile from them.
She spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening at home with them. When she called Charles to tell him she wouldn’t be back until the next day, he simply growled, “Fine,” and slammed down the phone. But Julia knew the twins needed some guarantee their lives hadn’t crumbled away and left them adrift. She would have to be their anchor, their refuge, their source of comfort. But she couldn’t do it alone, and Miranda wasn’t the answer.
The next morning she called the pediatric psychologist and scheduled appointments.
Charles resented the time she spent away from him with the children and didn’t hesitate to let her know it. He dealt poorly with his situation, finding fault with everyone and everything. Julia realized one day with sudden clarity he was terrified of dying. She knew the death sentence pronounced on him paralyzed him with fear. She tried to convince him to seek professional help, to have someone more qualified than she to guide him through this, but he turned a deaf ear.
Religious support was out of the question. The last time Charles was in church was for their wedding, and then only under protest. He considered organized religion a challenge to his self-control. Rombauer recommended two therapists he deemed excellent, with extensive experience with dying patients. Charles took the slip of paper with their names, tore it into shreds, and dropped the pieces into the bedside wastebasket.
“Can they give me back my life?” He vibrated with anger. “Unless they can I’m not interested in seeing them. It’s a waste of time.”
It was obvious he was looking for an assurance that wasn’t there, a guarantee he was immortal, had been misdiagnosed and would wake up the next morning sitting at his desk reviewing a legal brief.
His partners visited in a preselected rotation, usually in the afternoon so she was spared any contact with them. Rod McGuire and Carter DeWitt were carbon copies of Charles—autocratic, dictatorial, and unmoved by the bumps and hurdles of life. The qualities making them good litigators also made them unlikable human beings. Julia was sure they blamed Charles for disrupting their perfectly oiled legal machine. Rod, especially. His longtime personal connection to Charles made him a bitter adversary. Sometimes she wondered if there wasn’t something deeper than just friendship, some event or series of events that bonded them together.
She was late leaving one morning and Rod showed up early for his visit. He stepped out of the elevator as she stood waiting for it and blocked her from moving.
“Charles could have done a lot better than you.” Venom scored every word. “I’d actually be happy for him to divorce you, but his parents are scandalized by the thought.”
“Why?” She raised her chin in defiance. “They hate me as much as you do.”
“For the same reason Charles has refused to sign the papers. The legal entanglements with the children would be enormous. You screwed him out of a lot of money, Julia, but there’s a lot more where that came from and he’s not about to let you get your claws into it.”
Her jaw dropped. “But the children. He has to provide for the children.”
“Yes, and if he could do it without providing for you he would. People in our circle don’t divorce, Julia. They swallow shit and move on. Trust me. If I could find a way to wash you out of his life, I would.”
She stepped into the elevator as the doors closed, trying to absorb everything that had been said. Her life had turned into a B movie, so absurd normal people wouldn’t believe it. She was still trying to make sense of it all when she walked out of the hospital lobby.
She brought the children on Christmas Day, bearing perfectly wrapped gifts, but it was an ordeal they were happy to be done with.
She was about as far from the holiday spirit as it was possible to get. Fortunately, Miranda took care of all the holiday things at home, to keep the twins distracted. She even put up the tree and had Andy and Beth help decorate it. She took them to see Santa Claus and chauffeured them to children’s holiday parties. It kept them occupied and gave Julia breathing room.
Her balance, however, tipped over the morning she found Rombauer waiting for her at the nurses’ station.
“Mr. Patterson is napping right now,” he began, “so I thought this would be a good time for us to chat.”
“About?”
He walked her to an alcove where a couple of chairs and a table had been placed.
“Can I get you some coffee or tea?”
“No, thank you.” She tightened her grip on her purse. “I’d prefer it if you just said what’s on your mind.”
“All right.” He dropped into the chair across from her. “It won’t be much longer before we’ve done everything for your husband we can do at a hospital. His status will change to long term care and he’ll need to be discharged.”
“Discharged?” Where was this going? “But… I mean, his condition…”
The doctor nodded. “Yes. His condition. He needs to be in a place where his medications can be monitored and he can get the kind of daily care we don’t provide here. I can recommend excellent home health care services that can help you.”
Panic surged through her, nearly choking her. “Dr. Rombauer, despite what’s happened, Charles and I have been separated for months. Our divorce is nearly final. What about his parents?”
God knew they had plenty of room and money to care for
