The Battered Heiress Blues

17





Tommy didn’t take the news of John’s illness very well. I woke to find him sitting across the room in my recliner. His face was solemn and distant. Though further along than me in mending fences with our father, he had born the brunt of his hostility over the years, never fully understanding why he was so unlovable. A sibling can’t fill the void that a parent leaves behind. I did the best I could.

“You’re up early,” I commented, interrupting his thoughts.

“Can you believe it? After all these years, we only have six months with him?”

“Maybe more.”

“Unlikely.”

“You’ve never been the pessimist Tommy; don’t start now.”

“I’m being a realist, Julia.”

“That’s my role. You’re the pie in the sky, everything’s coming up roses, and God has a purpose type. Step off my territory.”

Holding out my hand, I motioned for Tommy to come over. He lay down next to me, holding my hand as we always had as children, when we’d lie on our backs, staring up at the night sky. Gabe knocked on the door and slowly opened it to see if I was awake. We had made plans the night before to get cracking on wrapping the presents, with Christmas only one day away.

“Who forgot to tell me about the meeting?” he joked as he entered.

“Come here. Lay down. We have some news.”

“That’s never good,” he chuckled nervously, wondering what predicament I’d gotten myself into.

“This isn’t good,” I answered.

He walked to the empty space in the bed, next to me, and threw himself against the pillows. I held my free hand out to him, which he immediately grabbed, interlocking his fingers in mine.

“Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

“You can’t fix this,” Tommy replied.

“Let’s have it then.”

Tommy didn’t respond. The news was too recently given for him to be emotionally able to speak it out loud. I had more time to adjust and cleared my throat to announce what my brother wasn’t able to.

“My father is dying. He has pancreatic cancer. He came here to have his last Christmas and make amends with Tommy and me. He’s having surgery next week. The doctors give him six months to a year. I’ve asked him to move in after the procedure.”

Sorry is the only word that Gabe could produce. The three of us lay there silently, watching my old comforting friend, the fan, turn circles above our heads. Mattie burst through the door and nestled his way between Gabe and me. Within minutes, John walked by, giving the four of us a very odd look, as we filled the entire bed. No one knew what to say. Finally, Gabe broke the silence.

“Those gifts aren’t going to wrap themselves.”

“I know. I know. Mattie, Tommy and Grandma are going to take you for some ice cream, okay?”

Mattie bolted from the room and Tommy quickly followed after him.

“You open the packages Gabe and I’ll wrap.”

“Deal.”

He pulled my lard self up into a seated position and began tearing through the packing tape, box by box, placing each item on the bed in a neat assembly line formation. He enjoyed looking through the presents I had bought online, making little comments after opening each one and guessing who they were for. He probably wondered if a few of the gifts I’d purchased for Tommy were actually his. They weren’t. Gabe’s gift was in the FedEx pouch from the lawyer. I left it on the kitchen table with hopes of giving it to him this evening. He had no idea what was in store for him.

The morning and afternoon passed with only a short break to eat lunch. Cold pizza was on the menu, which seemed to awaken the alien within. Emma Grace was moving across my belly as if she were trying to claw her way out. Gabe loved to watch her hands climbing from one side to the other. She was becoming as impatient as me. We both wanted her out.

Tommy and Ms. Martin entertained Mattie for most of the day. After returning from their errands, they headed over to the cottage to allow Mattie to reacquaint himself with some of his most loved toys. They’d been spending so much time at the main house that the cottage had been all but deserted. My father was napping since the house was quiet, except for the soft lull of carols that piped through the intercom system. I’d talked Gabe into running into town to buy some candy canes for the tree. The edible factor was missing from the tall Frasier Fir. I had fond memories of Tommy and me swiping candy canes as we passed through the drawing room, back in the day. Nana never seemed to mind.

Gabe had moved all the presents under the tree. They filled the far corner of the room, leaving only a small path for Mattie to get up close and personal with his favorite ornaments. I made my way through the drawing room and into the kitchen to get busy accomplishing my other task for the day.

Much to the family’s dismay, I had decided to try my hand at my mom’s homemade apple pie recipe. After the expected arguments regarding my being out of bed, they agreed to allow me to sit at the table with my feet elevated while peeling and coring the apples. Gabe’s mom premeasured the wet and dry ingredients for me and Tommy moved the kitchen table underneath the island before heading to the cottage. Every last detail of my cooking had been well planned out, except one. The apple corer was nowhere to be found.

Searching the bottom cabinets of the kitchen yielded no results. Knowing it had to be somewhere, I decided to look through the upper cabinets instead of waiting for help. No one was home except John and he was sleeping. The coast was clear. Time was not on my side, though; Gabe was expected home soon. The market was fifteen minutes away and he had already been gone just shy of an hour.

Pulling the utility ladder to the counter, I carefully climbed upward to the first cabinet. Rifling through the junk didn’t turn up the tools I needed. I started to try and reach over to the second one, but good sense invaded my decision making process and made me think better of reaching for things at that height. I decided instead, to get down and move the ladder over to the next cabinet. After dragging it across the floor, I climbed up again and started with the bottom shelf, hoping that my previous lack of organization wouldn’t hinder a good outcome. No corer. I reached blindly into the higher shelf. I felt the corner of what I thought was the peeler, but I couldn’t grip it well enough to pull it forward. I stepped on to the countertop, allowing a better view, when I heard the kitchen door open. The noise startled me. Realizing I was caught, I hugged the open shelves trying to balance my weight.

“Thank God, Gabe. Am I glad to see you? Don’t be mad. I couldn’t find the apple peeler.”

“Hi Jewels,” said the unmistakable voice with the British accent.

Clearly, I couldn’t speak. The orca whale was beached on top of the kitchen counter, trying not to fall from the shock and horror of what was about to take place. With the options of fight or flight, I only had one alternative. Maybe I could piss him off enough that he’d just leave.

“Hello pot,” I delivered in my best bitchy tone, unable to turn around and show him the glare in my eyes.

“Hello kettle,” he replied.

“Why are you here?” I asked in a more monotone voice.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” he said.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Her who?” he responded, acting dumbfounded.

“Her who? Were there more? Her who. Don’t be coy. Tricia. I mean Tricia.”

“What?”

“Did you sleep with Tricia? Is there something in the question you don’t understand? I think I’m being fairly clear.”

My feet were getting tired and my belly was hurting from pushing against the bottom shelf. Emma Grace was obviously getting aggravated with my body’s positioning as demonstrated by her quick movements.

“Yes.” His words were subdued. I could tell that he felt ashamed or at least caught.

“Yes what?” I inquired.

“Yes, I slept with Tricia,” he said exasperated.

I didn’t have a cunning bit of nasty words to toss back. I already knew the answer to the question I had asked. All the same, hearing the love of my life tell me that he shared a sacred piece of himself with a hussy like Tricia still cut me deeply. Men always say that they can separate sex from emotions and maybe that’s true, but for women, we’re typically all in. He might have sexed up Tricia to get back at me, but she was almost certainly attached to him now on an emotional level. Things were no longer neat and tidy, despite his resolve to be a player.

I had still not laid eyes on Henry. As much as I wanted to have this conversation face to face, to up the accountability factor, I was afraid to move. For all intensive purpose, I was arguing with a cabinet. The sound of the door opening again was followed by the voice of an angry friend.

“What the hell are you doing up there, Julia?” Gabe said disapprovingly.

“Relax, Gabe. She’s looking for something,” Henry interceded, with a twinge of jealousy in his tone.

“You relax. She is supposed to be on bed rest. Get down this instant,” he ordered.

“Bed rest?” said a confused Henry.

By the time Henry echoed his words, Gabe was at my side, slowly helping my foot find the next rung down on the ladder. When my feet finally hit the kitchen floor, Gabe released his hold on me.

“You need to get upstairs now. What were you thinking? You should have waited for me or John.”

“John? What’s he doing here? I thought he was in Europe,” he asked.

“My father is spending the Christmas holidays with us.”

There was no reason to delay any longer. There was no escape route that would spare me the inevitable action of turning and revealing my pregnancy. Just like I had decided months ago, I’d get it over quick and dirty.

“Could you leave us, Gabe?” I pleaded.

“Are you sure?” he replied.

“She’s sure,” said Henry intensely.

He gave my arm a light squeeze, gave Henry the evil eye, and walked into the drawing room. I slowly turned around and sat back against the ladder. The long black dress I was wearing hugged my protruding belly. The look on Henry’s face created a snapshot in my mind that would forever be engrained there. His eyebrows pulled together in the center and he scowled at me as I waited for his reaction. He said nothing, but I could see his mind racing a mile a minute.

“Let me save you the mental math, ace. The baby is yours. She was conceived at the boathouse. Remember me…the end of June?”

“Baby? Why didn’t you…?”

“Call you? I tried. Tricia answered the phone,” I said curtly.

“Tricia means nothing.”

“How sad for her,” I thought out loud.

“It’s not like that…she practically forced herself on me,” he said in his defense.

“Well, bless your heart. That must have been terrible for you. Poor Henry.”

We stood in a face off, both of us unsure of how to proceed. Henry stepped toward me, but his movement was halted by John’s entrance. I would have to thank Gabe later for tattle telling on Henry. No one man could intimidate Tru like my father. John walked over to my side and pointed in the direction of the staircase.

“Julia, go upstairs. You’ve exhausted your time limit out of bed today. The pie can wait until this evening. No arguments. Go.”

Even though I was a grown Southern woman, more stubborn than most men, I was never so glad to be sent to my room. Climbing the stairs felt like emancipation from despair and humiliation. I did wish that I could be a fly on the wall to hear my father sock it to Henry. Getting me pregnant was criminal enough, but Tricia was the icing on the cake. Henry Truman Walker…rest in peace.

When I reached my room, Gabe was lying horizontally across the end of the bed watching the news. I sat back against the pillows, assuming my usual position while he rolled back to address Henry’s arrival.

“You can’t seriously be considering taking that snake back. He’ll want the baby- not you. Isn’t Tricia proof of that?”

“Ouch.”

“Well, I don’t want to see you wasting your life on someone that doesn’t cherish you. You’re a package deal- you and Emma Grace.”

“We’re not…a package deal. He can be a father without being a lover, Gabe. Trying to fake an apathetic attitude and happiness without him will tear me up for awhile, but it will get easier. Hearts mend.”

“No they don’t. They just scar. You better get your game face on. The longing is clearly evident in your eyes. You aren’t the master of deception.”

“You’re worried about me? You better get your game face on. I’d expect the sassy Brit to join her brother by this evening. She’ll hop a plane once she hears the baby news.”

“You think she’ll…”

“Absolutely. I’d say you have five hours at the most to lose the longing in your own eyes. Good luck with that.”

“Yeah?”

Gabe shook his head like his mind was traveling in a million different directions. When I was about to give him a pep talk, his pager went off. After a quick call to the station, he was out the door and on his way to answer a domestic disturbance call on the other side of town. His parting words to me were to get some sleep. He would be back for dinner.

He’d thrown the covers over me as he left, but Emma Grace was an internal heater. I was hotter than a Southern bride in the summer. Tossing them to the side, I tried to quiet my mind and erase the events of the day. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw Henry. I finally envisioned a blank piece of white paper in hopes that thinking about nothing would make me forget everything.

The butterflies in my stomach took flight as I heard the bedroom door open. John had obviously not finished him off. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping that my acting abilities would fool him from trying to engage me in conversation. The mattress rippled with movement. I sensed someone moving toward me. An arm flew across my body and little fingers touched my face.

“Blue. Jewels. Jewels. Sleep. Sleep. Jewels sleep. Mattie sleep.”

My heart soared and my stomach calmed.

“Hi Little Man,” I said, rolling over to see his sweet smile. His hands were sandy. I could feel the grit rub my face as he touched my cheeks.

“Sleep. Sleep,” he said as he touched my eyelids.

“Yes. I will. Jewels and Mattie sleep.”

He pulled seashells from his pocket and dropped them between us. His head gently rested back on the pillows as he examined his new treasures. My lids grew heavy watching him sort them into distinct piles. I struggled against sleep. Mattie began to slow down and relax. Before drifting off myself, I saw his eyes finally succumb and close.