If I'd Never Known Your Love (11 page)

The comparison made it impossible for her to hate him. She'd sought a focus for her anger and instead found herself weighed down by the evidence of a wasted life.

The airplane's wheels thumped into place and they began a slow, banked turn, heading north. Heading home.

Minutes later they cleared the clouds and the plane leveled. A flight attendant arrived, a smile in place. Julia declined the beverage offer and turned to face the window.

She'd imagined flying home with Evan a hundred times, picturing them holding hands, caught up in each other and oblivious to everything and everyone around them.

He would laugh when she told him about the hundreds of carpet samples awaiting him at home, and she would cry when he told her how lonely he'd been without her. They would not be able to stop looking at each other. She pictured her hand on his cheek, the feel of his breath as he touched his lips to hers, a sweet warmth spreading through her body as he whispered that he loved her.

She wouldn't have to tell him how desperately she had missed him or how hard she had worked to bring him home. He would know this as surely as he knew she would have waited for him forever.

He would gaze at pictures of Shelly and Jason with wonder and surprise at how they'd grown. She would tell him how Jason had broken his arm when he'd tumbled out of the oak tree while reattaching the bird feeder that had fallen in a storm, and how Shelly had scored the winning goal in the district soccer championship.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine him beside her, breathing the sharp, clean air of freedom and luxuriating in the comfort of flying first class.

But the reality of accompanying him to the airport that morning, of standing beside the plane as his casket was loaded into the baggage compartment, of the subtle, careful manipulations to keep curious onlookers away, was too powerful to allow her this last, small fantasy.

When they arrived in San Francisco, Evan would be the last to depart the plane. A hearse would take him the final ninety miles to Sacramento and he would spend the night in the mortuary, alone. Two days later they would say their formal goodbyes during the service Barbara had arranged at their parish church.

Everything was in place. There was nothing more for her to do, no magic wand to ease the pain or lessen the sorrow. No way to change that one moment in time when Evan had decided to risk everything to come home to her.

In another week the relatives would be gone, Shelly and Jason would be back in school, Barbara would be back at work and Julia would be doing whatever she could find to fill her day.

And Evan would be in the ground. Alone.

Holding her breath against the pain, Julia reached into her purse and removed the manila envelope the clerk at the pathologist's office had given her. She hadn't been able to bring herself to look inside at the "personal belongings" recovered with Evan—his wallet, his watch, a gift from her on their tenth anniversary, his wedding ring. They'd told her the money and credit cards were missing, but a driver's license and several photographs of her and Shelly and Jason had survived the burial.

She hugged the envelope against her chest. Slow, silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Five Months and Two Weeks Missing

The whole family pitched in to get you through your senior year. I handled the
English, my dad math, Mom made you learn way more than you needed to pass civics
and challenge German and Fred let you slide in biology until Barbara took over.

Someone in the office decided that since your records were lost, the best thing to do
was average your grades over all four years, and you wound up in the top ten percent
of the class. Dad nearly burst his buttons at our graduation.

You spent so much time at the house that year that Dad put another bed in Fred's
room so you didn't have to sleep on the couch. After being with you all day at school
and then all night at home, keeping our promise to my dad was like putting a field
mouse in front of a barn cat and telling the cat to play nice.

In January when Dad took you aside and told you that in exchange for dropping
the arson charges you were to spend the next four summers in your old neighborhood
in Detroit, tutoring disadvantaged kids, I was thrilled that you'd escaped a trial and
possible jail time. Of course summer seemed a long time off when there was a
blizzard blowing outside and we were still putting away the Christmas decorations.

Graduation was hard on me. All I could think about was that you were leaving in a
week and that

for a year you'd be at the community college twenty miles away from the farm, while I'd be at the Uni versity of
Kansas, half a state away. To say that I was unhappy was like saying a lead weight didn't float.

The day before you were supposed to leave I got up early and packed a picnic lunch
for us. I loaded it and my grandmother's old quilt in the back of the truck, and the
minute you came downstairs I grabbed your arm and hauled you out the front door.

As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, I scooted across the seat and snuggled into
your side. "Where are we headed?" you asked.

"Someplace no one will find us."

You didn't answer right away. "I don't know, Julia. The way I've been feeling lately I
don't think that's such a good idea."

"You're worried about your promise to my dad," I guessed, hoping I was right because it was what I wanted to
hear.

"Yes."

"That's over, Evan."

"How do you figure?"

"We said we wouldn't do anything while you were staying at the house. You're
leaving tomorrow. What possible harm is one day going to do?"

"He trusts me, Julia. I can't do anything to mess that up."

"And what about me?"

You pulled over to the side of the road, skidded to a stop and turned in the seat,
glaring at me. "You don't have a clue. If you did, you could never ask me such a stupid
question. Do you really not know how I feel about you? Is this some game to you?"

"I'm sorry." I wasn't, not really, but I couldn't think of anything to say. In all the
imagining and planning I'd done getting ready for this day, not once had it happened
this way. "I just want to be with you."

"And you imagine I haven't been half out of my mind lately wanting to be with you?

Are you blind?"

That did it. I was in your arms kissing you, and you were kissing me back, and I was
feeling heat and yearning in parts of me I hardly knew existed.

A car drove by and the driver honked at us. I looked up and realized it was our
neighbor, the woman my mother said didn't need a mouth to spread gossip; it oozed out
her pores.

"Where?" you asked.

"What about that sycamore with the nest of raccoons?"

"Behind the wheat field?"

"I heard Dad tell Fred that he was going to town for a meeting at the bank. And
there isn't any reason for anyone else to be out there today."

You took my hand and kissed it. I was sure I was ten seconds away from melting into
a puddle on the floor. There was no way we could get where we were going fast
enough. I wanted you and I didn't want to wait another minute.

"Are you sure about this, Julia?

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," I shouted.

Still you hesitated. "I don't have anything, any kind of protection."

"I do," I admitted sheepishly. I hadn't been sure how I was going to bring up the fact
that I had a condom in my purse, and now I didn't have to. All I knew was that I wasn't
going to spend the day with you unprepared for what I desperately wanted to happen.

"Where did you—"

"It's Fred's."

"What?"

"I was putting his laundry away and there it was. Actually, there were lots of them. I
only took me. He'll never miss it."

"It was just sitting there in his drawer, where you or your mom could find it?"

"Well, not exactly. I had to do a little looking around."

"How did you know what they were?"

"Oh, please. What do you think I am, some Barbie doll that's been left in its package
for seventeen years?"

"I know exactly what you are—all mouth. You're no more experienced at this sex
thing than I am."

I was stunned and didn't even try to hide it. "You mean you've never? Not once?"

"Does that bother you?"

"It surprises me, that's all."

"Why?"

"I guess it's because you're a guy. Look at Fred. He's two years younger than you
and—"

"You don't really believe he's doing anything where he needs all those condoms, do
you?"

"Why have them if you're not going to use them?"

"God—you're such a girl."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Someday I'll tell you about guys. Or at least, I'll try. No promises."

"Why didn't you? I mean, you must have had a hundred girls chasing you when you
lived in Detroit."

"Why would you believe that? Look around, Julia. Do you see any girls chasing me
here?" He grinned. "Present company excepted."

I laughed at that. "Are you serious? The only reason you didn't have half the girls in
the school following you around with their tongues hanging out was that I let them
know I wouldn't put up with it."

"So does all this questioning mean you'd prefer someone more experienced your
first time?"

"When I went to all the trouble to get this?" I held up the condom.

You laughed. "You realize Fred would kill you if he found out you were going
through his things."

I grinned. "Who's going to tell him?" You put your hand on the back of my neck and
brought me close for another kiss. "Sure as hell not me."

C H A P T E R 7

Abandoning her futile effort at sleep, Julia got out of bed at the first light of dawn and went outside to watch the sunrise. Six months had passed since she'd brought Evan home and it seemed like yesterday. How many more months would it take for the healing to begin? How many years? Would she live that long?

She stood on the porch and stared at the unfamiliar surroundings, at the lake, the towering pines standing like ghostly sentinels at the edge of the dew- covered grass, at the pier that disappeared into the early-morning fog covering the lake.

At home she had the mindlessness of television

to keep her company when she couldn't sleep. She had hoped books would provide the escape she was looking for, but last night she'd found it no easier to concentrate in the mountains than it had been in the city.

Cold penetrated her knit leggings. She sat on the split-log railing and brought her baggy sweatshirt over her knees. Leaning her back against the porch pillar, she tried to picture Harold and Mary vacationing here, which they told her they'd done every summer when their kids were home but could no longer find the time to do. They'd left unspoken the reason there hadn't been time.

Mary had finally talked her into coming by insisting she would be doing them a favor, even if she only stayed a couple of weeks.

The grief counselor had told her Shelly and Jason needed to get away, to be somewhere free of memories, somewhere they could just be kids again. Implied in the suggestion was a need for them to get away from her for a while. So when her mother and father had suggested Shelly and Jason spend the summer with them on the farm and they'd responded as if they'd been offered tickets to a Dixie Chicks' concert, Julia had agreed to let them go. Reluctantly.

They might require time away from her, but she could hardly bear the thought of being away from them. They'd been gone less than a week and it seemed an eternity.

She had no idea how she would make it through the summer alone.

A tree squirrel cautiously moved to the rip of a branch on the Jeffry pine at the end of the porch. It surveyed its world, spotted Julia and chattered a noisy alarm. A Steller's jay hopped to a nearby branch to see what the fuss was about. It cocked its head in Julia's direction, swooped down and landed in the middle of the lawn, looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry," Julia said."I didn't think to bring birdseed. You'll have to wait until I get back from the store this afternoon."

One by one other sounds broke the stillness—the high-pitched chirp of a chipmunk, a low whisper of wind in the tops of pine and fir trees, a pine cone bouncing off branches on its way to the forest floor. Minor intrusions into the peace and quiet and solitude she was there to experience. The cure-all everyone had insisted was what she needed for her broken heart.

What no one understood was that her heart wasn't just broken; it was empty—

something far worse. The passion that had driven her from bed every morning was gone. She drifted through her days, micro- managing the lives of two independent and self- sufficient teenagers, who vacillated between tolerance and rebellion.

She was just so sad all the time. She'd cried more in the past six months than she'd cried the entire five years Evan was missing. She didn't want to be this way. She wanted to be stronger, to go on with her life the way she absolutely knew Evan would want her to, but she couldn't pull together the pieces that would let her look at her future and not see a lifetime of aching loneliness. She'd learned how to be alone; she had no idea how to be lonely.