“Time to step into traffic,” she said, and though she couldn’t force a smile, couldn’t in fact imagine ever smiling again, she was okay. She wouldn’t think about what if; that would destroy her. She’d think only about Alice and how to protect her.
“Hire a detective,” she said to Ellie. “Go through Azelle’s records back to second grade. Somewhere, sometime, this son of a bitch hit someone or sold drugs or drove drunk. Find it. We don’t have to prove he’s a murderer, just an unfit parent.”
It was just past five o’clock when they got home, but it felt like the middle of the night. Clouds darkened the sky. An inch of snow frosted everything—the lawn, the roof, the porch railing. The house seemed to glow amidst all that whiteness.
Ellie parked close to the house. Neither of them made a move to get out of the car.
“I’m not going to tell her,” Julia finally said, staring straight ahead.
Ellie sighed. “How will you ever tell her? She hates it when you leave to make breakfast.”
Julia couldn’t go there. Not to the imagining it place.
No leave Girl, Jewlee.
She opened the car door and stepped out into the falling snow, barely feeling the cold.
She walked up the steps, going from snow to wet wood, and opened the front door. The light and warmth hit her first. Then she saw Alice, curled up in Max’s lap. At Julia’s entrance, she looked up and grinned.
“Jewlee!” she squealed, sliding out of Max’s arms and running for Julia.
She picked the little girl up, held her tightly. “Hey, little one.” She tried to smile. Hopefully it didn’t look as brittle as it felt.
Alice frowned up at her. “Sad?”
“Happy to be home,” Julia said.
Relief shone in Alice’s eyes. She hugged Julia again and kissed her neck.
Ellie came up behind them and smoothed Alice’s hair. “Hey girlie-girl.”
“Hi LEllie,” she said in a muffled, happy voice.
Max was standing now. Firelight backlit him; the brightness made his face appear shadowed. “Julia?” he said. There was no mistaking the concern in his voice.
It almost undid her. She sidestepped his touch, trying to make it look like an accident, but she saw that he wasn’t fooled. Of course he wasn’t. She didn’t know much about Max, but she knew this: he recognized heartache, understood its taste and feel and texture. And he saw it now on her face. There was no way for her to hide it, not with Alice in her arms and George Azelle’s envelope in her coat pocket.
If Max touched her now, she’d cry, and she didn’t want that. God knew, she would need strength for what was to come.
“He wants her back.”
The sad understanding in Max’s eyes was almost more than she could bear. He moved slowly toward her. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he said, “I’ll wait up for you.”
“But—”
“It doesn’t matter when. Come over when you can. You’ll need me.”
She couldn’t deny that.
“I’ll wait up for you,” he said again; this time he didn’t wait for a response. He said good-bye to each of them and left.
Silence swept in behind him.
“Max bye-bye,” Alice said. “No Jewlee leave?”
Julia swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears. She clung fiercely to Alice. “I won’t leave you, Alice,” she said, praying it would be true.
For the rest of the evening Julia moved in a fog. Alice seemed to sense that something was wrong. She shadowed Julia even more closely than usual.
By nine o’clock they were both exhausted. Julia gave the little girl a bath, braided her hair, and tucked her into bed. Snuggling in close on the narrow mattress, she tried to read a bedtime story, but the words kept blurring before her eyes.
“Jewlee sad?” Alice said repeatedly, her small face scrunched into a frown.
“I’m fine,” Julia said, closing the book and kissing the girl good-night. “I love you,” she whispered against the soft baby-scented cheek.
“Stay,” Alice murmured, her eyes heavy.
“No. It’s nighttime. Alice sleeps now.”
Alice nodded and popped her thumb in her mouth.
Julia stared down at the girl.
My girl.
An ache blossomed in her chest. She turned away from the bed and went downstairs.
Ellie sat at the kitchen table, reading through a stack of papers. The dogs lay on the floor beside her, uncharacteristically docile. “The court said—”
Julia lifted a hand as if to ward off a blow. “I can’t talk about it right now. I need some … time. Will you watch her?”
“Of course.”
Julia went to the kitchen, grabbed the car keys and her purse. Every step seemed to jostle her bones. It felt as if she were held together with old Scotch tape. “Good-bye. I’ll be back soon.”
Outside, she drew in a deep, shaky breath. The night smelled of wet wood and new snow and the coming night. It wasn’t until she was almost to the car that she realized she’d forgotten her coat.
Freezing, she drove to Max’s house. The heat came on just as she turned into his driveway.