Fox River (39 page)

Alice leaped out at me. She was walking beside her father, reluctantly holding back the way a prisoner must on his way to the hangman’s noose. Ian was saying something to her and shaking a finger. My heart sank.

I tried to think what I could do. Ian was so easily provoked that if I tried to interfere again, he might do something terrible to our child. There was no one close by who might interfere for me, certainly none of our staff, who depended on him for their daily bread. The neighbors wouldn’t involve themselves in a domestic argument, and besides, the men might well agree with Ian. I was alone and unable to defend my daughter.

Patches was saddled and waiting outside the stable. Ian appeared to have said everything he planned to, because the moment they arrived, he lifted Alice off the ground and dropped her on the tiny sidesaddle he’d bought for the pony. She proceeded to launch herself into his arms before he could retreat. I could see her face clearly, and she was sobbing.

I put a fist to my mouth to stifle a cry. The glasses wavered. When I put them back to my eyes, I saw Alice in the saddle once more. Again she tried to remove herself, but this time Ian held her in place. I saw his mouth moving and could well imagine what he was saying. She shrank back, but the moment he stepped away, she tried to dismount again.

Ian turned and shouted something, probably to one of the stableboys. He held Alice in place as she squirmed to get down, but to my relief, he didn’t hit her. Minutes seemed to pass as he held her there. Then the boy arrived carrying something under his arm. He passed it to Ian. As I watched in horror, Ian took what looked like leather cord and began to bind his daughter to the saddle while she pitched and fought him, sobbing all the while.

I felt physically ill. My stomach heaved, and I swallowed bile. Ian stepped away, and although Alice struggled, she could not remove herself from the pony’s back. Then, as I watched, he began to lead her around the yard. And when he had finished, and as she continued to scream, he tied Patches to a tree and left my terrified daughter to battle her fears alone.

D
uring the weeks of her blindness, Julia had waited for people to come to her. When she awoke this morning, she knew that this, too, had to change. She was blind. Although the doctors were convinced she would see again, she had no reason to believe them. Each tiny revelation had given her hope she was finding her way toward the light. But this morning, when she opened her eyes and the world was as dark as the end of time, she realized she couldn’t put her life on hold. She had used the fact that she couldn’t see as an excuse not to act.

There was no relevant connection.

She showered and dressed before anyone else arose. By the time Jake had gotten up to make coffee, she was ready to go.

“You’re up early,” he said. “And you look like you’re going somewhere.”

“I’m going to Millcreek.”

“You need a ride.” It wasn’t a question.

“Do you mind?”

“Shall I bring my coffee and paper?”

“I’d be grateful if you’d stay while I talk to Bard.”

He must have heard how much she hated to ask, because his tone was thoughtful. “You know, Julia, nobody minds helping you. Least of all your mother and me. I used to wish you needed me more. I like feeling needed.”

“I’m glad you’ll be there with me. There’s no one I could want more.”

“Let me put the coffee in a travel cup and we’ll go. Would you like some first?”

“No, I’ll do this without, thanks.”

The ride was short and silent. Julia expected to find Bard home, but she knew she was taking a chance. She hadn’t wanted to announce her visit. For once Bard could be the one caught off guard.

At Millcreek, Jake helped her to the door and she used her key. From inside she heard Bard’s voice coming from the direction of the dining room and Mrs. Taylor’s deferential tones. He breakfasted early, and at the end of his meal he usually gave Mrs. Taylor a list of things to do that day. Julia had rarely eaten with him, hoping, she realized now, to escape a similar fate.

She wondered if, like the fictitious Louisa Sebastian, she had accommodated herself to Bard’s whims to keep peace. Louisa from fear, Julia from guilt and gratitude.

“If you’ll get me to the door of the dining room, I can do the rest,” she told Jake in a soft voice.

“I’ll be out on the porch waiting for you. Will Mrs. Taylor help you to the door?”

He had assumed, quite logically, that Bard wouldn’t be in the mood. “I’m sure she will. Or I’ll find my way. I can visualize the layout of this room.”

“I’ll be waiting. Take all the time you need.”

She let him lead her through the room, memorizing the steps and turns as he did. When he stopped, she dropped his arm.

“Hello, Bard.”

Bard was obviously surprised. “Julia?”

She heard Jake’s footsteps departing, then the sound of the front door.

“Was that Jake?” Bard sounded closer now. He was coming to greet her.

“He brought me over. He’s going to wait outside.”

“Why? Have him come in. I’ll get Mrs. Taylor to make him breakfast. He can join us.”

“I don’t think so. This isn’t a social call.”

His tone dropped several degrees. “No?”

“I’m sorry, did you think I’d come back?”

“So? And now you’re here to deliver the bad news?”

“I’m here to ask a question.”

“You’ve heard of the telephone, I’ll bet.”

He resorted to sarcasm to get control of a conversation. She knew that, but she didn’t retreat. “I prefer standing in front of you, even though I can’t see you.”

“I guess I don’t have to offer you breakfast, then.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. Why have you lied all these years about the reason we didn’t have a child together?”

She could almost hear him picking through possible answers, but the one he chose caught her off guard. “I’m glad you know. Does that surprise you?”

“Surprise, yes. Do I believe you?” She didn’t answer her own question.

“Let’s go in the living room and discuss this.”

She didn’t move. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d had a vasectomy?”

“I know you’re angry. I don’t blame you. I—”

“I want an explanation. Not an interpretation of my feelings. Just give me the facts.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. She waited, refusing to break the silence as she had so often during their marriage.

When he spoke, his voice was an echo of its robust self. “When Callie was two, I realized I didn’t want any more children. I was losing sleep over it, worrying every time we had sex, even though we were using birth control, so I decided to do something about it.”

“Just like that? Without discussion?”

“There wasn’t any room for discussion. At the time there was nothing you could have said to change my mind. I didn’t like being a father. I didn’t like the mess, the noise, the time. I sure didn’t want to double all that with another baby, even if the next one was mine. So I had the procedure when I was out of town. I was going to tell you.”

“Well, that was considerate. Did you just forget to mention it?”

“I regretted it later. I was too impulsive. You should have had some say. I know that now.”

She didn’t trust herself to respond.

“How did you figure this out?” he asked.

She kept her voice level. “The internist I saw at Gandy Willson was concerned about my irregular periods and wondered why I wasn’t on the pill. I told him there’d been no reason for birth control.
I
meant because we’d hoped to have a baby, but
he
thought I meant your vasectomy. His name is Forrester. Does that ring a bell? He saw you last year for a urinary infection, when your own doctor was out of town. He remembered the vasectomy because you were convinced it was the cause of the infection and you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Bard’s tone changed. “As bad as this sounds, I did feel justified.”

“I’d like to know why.”

“I knew you were in love with another man. The chances you’d want my baby were slim to none. If you ever
really
did, I figured I could try to have it reversed.”

“And if that didn’t work? You’d have a test and claim the mumps or something else had left you sterile?”

“It was stupid. I admit it, but maybe I got tired of being the man you married to give your daughter a last name. Maybe I didn’t see any reason to tell you the truth. You didn’t want my baby anyway.”

“If you’d told me you didn’t want another child, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. But you kept the vasectomy a secret because you wanted me to think it was my problem.”

“I made a mistake.”

“That’s your idea of an apology?”

“Don’t be so self-righteous! I married you, didn’t I? I’ve never liked kids, but I took responsibility for somebody else’s little bastard so we could have a life together.”

The words seemed to have power well beyond syllables and enunciation. One moment there had been a marriage, of sorts. The next it was over.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said immediately.

The words could not be called back.

He touched her arm, trying to make amends. “I married you because you were the wife I wanted, Julia.”

“I have suspected for more years than I can say—” she cleared her throat and took a deep breath “—that a large part of my attraction for you was Ashbourne. When Maisy died and it became mine, it would have been yours, as well. But I never realized how easy my pregnancy made everything for you.”

“I imagine it looks that way, but—”

“I had the property, the name, the background. I was acceptable in every way, and I needed you. Except for somebody else’s little bastard, it was a perfect situation, wasn’t it?”

“I married you because I wanted you to be my wife.”

“You married me because you’re a coldhearted son of a bitch who saw an opportunity and grabbed it! You were every bit as emotional about me as you are about a prime property that comes your way. A piece of land like Ashbourne, for instance. And you’ve been even less emotional about Callie.”

She turned to go, but he put a hand on her shoulder. “We fit in every way. And we were good together, the way I knew we’d be. Maybe we didn’t love each other at first, but I do love you now. I’ll do whatever it takes to get through this. I’ll see your therapist with you, if that’s what you want. I’ll spend more time with Callie. If you’ll just move back and let me take care of you, we can work this out. But we’ll never work it out with you living at Ashbourne. You’ve got to come home if we’re going to make a go of this.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He sounded perplexed.

“Why do I have to come home?”

“So we’ll have more time—”

“So you can control me,” she corrected him. “So I won’t be influenced against you, right? So I won’t be tempted to do things you don’t approve of.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. I made one terrible mistake in the past weeks, Bard. I didn’t tell Christian that Callie is his daughter. Well, he found out anyway. And coming back to Millcreek isn’t going to turn back the hands of time. Nothing is the way it was. To be honest, I’m not even sure I
know
how it was. But I do know this. You say you love me, but even if it’s true, love’s nothing compared to making the past come right. You’re not ready to commit yourself to that, and I don’t think you ever will be.”

“You’re saying this is final? You’d give up nine years of marriage because of one lie?”

“Our whole marriage has been a lie.”

“How convenient, Julia. You needed a husband to give your baby a name. I played the part. Now you don’t need a husband anymore, because the baby’s real father is back on the scene. Enter Christian Carver. Exit Lombard Warwick.”

She searched her heart and knew she was telling the truth when she said, “Christian could go back to prison this morning and my decision wouldn’t be any different. Our marriage was over before it started. It just took nine years and the loss of my eyesight for me to see that clearly.”

Maisy knew about Julia’s trip to Millcreek that morning, but neither she nor Jake knew any details. She had watched Julia all day, pale and strained but otherwise herself. Now Callie was in bed and Julia was sitting on the porch, despite evening temperatures that had dropped into the low fifties.

“You’re going to freeze,” Maisy said, coming out with a granny square afghan from her needlework phase. She saw that Clover had chewed a hole in one block and thought it was probably an improvement. “I don’t suppose I can get you to come inside?”

“You’re sweet, but I’m okay. Fall’s really here, isn’t it? Are the leaves falling?”

“Faster than I’d like. Jake’s building a fire in the fireplace. If you’d like to hear another chapter, we could sit in there when you’re ready.”

“I’m looking forward to the next chapter.”

“Are you?”

“I want to see if Louisa has what it takes to leave Ian.”

“I won’t give it away.”

“It’s one thing, isn’t it, when a man mistreats a woman? Another entirely when he mistreats a child.”

“Women and children have been possessions for too many centuries. Attitudes change slowly.”

“Have they changed in your lifetime?”

Maisy joined her on the swing. “Not fast enough.”