The first afternoon when Andy and Beth came home from school, Miranda swept them into the kitchen where Julia explained over cookies and milk what their routine was now going to be and the importance of being quiet. She thanked God for the size of the house, the distance of the family room from the den where Charles was set up, and the intelligence of her seven-year-olds who seemed to absorb everything without too many questions. She also blessed Dr. Grenfeld, the therapist working with Julia to help the children adjust to this drastic alteration in their lives.
One week dragged heavily into the next and now it was April. She and Claire sat in the family room, the late afternoon sunlight slanting in through the big picture window. Julia’s pregnancy bump was growing, although certainly not as much as with the twins. She insisted on at least doing desk work from home, so for weeks Claire brought her projects to work on. It kept her mind occupied, distracting her from the disaster of her situation.
“You’re exhausted,” Claire said.
“I’m fine.” Julia pushed her hair back from her face. She’d cut it shorter, something else for Charles to express his displeasure about, but it made it much easier to care for.
“No, you’re not.” Claire grimaced. “You’ve got to let Miranda take up more of the slack.”
“She’s already doing a lot. Anyway, Charles won’t even let her in the room.”
“What a total shit he is.” Claire twisted her lips in an expression of distaste. If you’d come to me about this Brad and I would have helped you. We’d never have let you agree to this.”
Tears burned in Julia’s eyes. “I could never ask you to do that. We’re talking about a fortune here. Money they all have and we don’t.”
“Honey, Brad’s a well-paid engineer and we have resources. We’d gladly do whatever it takes. Then or now.”
Julia reached over and grasped her friend’s hand. “Thank you. Knowing that helps more than I can tell you, but this is my mess and I have to live with it.”
“I want you to promise me that once Charles is gone we’ll reevaluate the situation. Please.”
Would she have the courage to do it then? Right now she just wanted to get past her two immediate crises—Charles and the baby.
“We’ll see.” She lifted her tea and took a sip.
“He’s determined to make your life as much of a living hell as possible,” Claire pointed out in a caustic voice.
“The weaker he gets, the more fearful of death he becomes. This is just his way of expressing it.”
“You’re making excuses for him.”
Julia knew that, but it helped her deal with his demands and unreasoning rages. The months were dragging interminably, a leaden weight stretching every minute into hours.
Claire leaned forward, an earnest look on her face. “Just remember, it won’t do either the twins or this new baby any good if you’re out of the picture too.”
“I know, I know. I wish he’d leave Miranda alone. That woman is a saint.”
“No sainthood here.” Miranda walked out onto the patio carrying a fresh pitcher of iced tea. “Only the devil has thoughts like the ones running around in my head.”
“He must be in mine, too,” Claire laughed.
“I’m sorry he yells at you.” She took Miranda’s hand and squeezed it. “Maybe you should just stay out of the den.”
“And let him yell at you?” Miranda sniffed. “Don’t make no never mind to me.” Miranda waved a hand. “I just close my ears and my mouth when I walk into that room. You just need to keep the twins away from him.”
“If only his rages didn’t carry through the house.”
Just last night the children, frightened by Charles’s latest outburst, had huddled against Julia, bravely swallowing tears.
“Let’s close the family room door when they’re in there,” Miranda suggested. “They can have supper in there, too. They’ll like playing picnic. Then you can take them upstairs, supervise their baths, and read to them.”
“That ought to work,” Claire agreed. “Do it, Julia. Whatever you have to in order to get them—and yourself—through this.”
* * * *
April turned into May. The twins celebrated their eighth birthday, a subdued celebration, under the circumstances. Charles still clung to life, well past the doctor’s predictions, although it was obvious any day could be his last. Julia was barely hanging on to her sanity.
“He’s stopped calling.” Claire made the announcement when she dropped by the house one afternoon.
“Who?” Julia wrinkled her forehead. She sat in the family room with her feet up, fanning herself. She’d gone to the store and the heat of the Texas summer had undone her in the few moments she was exposed to it.
“Who do you think? Mr. Sexy Voice.”
“Luke?” The thought of him was like the painful stabbing of a sword. She’d lost track of the nights she’d lain awake in her bed, longing to feel his hands on her just one more time. His mouth on hers. His cock inside her. As his child grew within her, the longings became even more acute. “I thought he stopped ages ago.”
“He’s persistent, the asshole. But I think he finally got the message.”
“He’s not an asshole,” Julia protested.
Claire just smiled.
“He needs to get on with his life.” She felt such sadness at the thought of him in a solitary existence, waiting for something that could never happen. “All I’d bring him is a mess.”
“Don’t you think that’s his choice to make?” She leaned closer to Julia. “You know, despite Charles’s diabolical plan, there’s nothing to prevent you from calling him when this is finally over. With Luke beside you, anything is possible. And at least then it’s his choice to make.”
Julia shook her head vehemently. “No, I can’t. And please
