Authors: Linda Schmalz
“I just wanted to catch up on reading some scripts.” He ignored his guilt at the lie. “Imagine my absolute utter shock when I turned on the television in the evening and heard Penny passed away.”
“Yes, my shock could not possibly compare.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “I tried to call, but Lydia said I was too late?”
Deirdre shifted in her seat. “Yes, I didn’t need you by the time you actually returned a call.”
“But the minute I heard, I hurried back to London for you.”
“What I
needed
was for you to pick up the bloody phone when I called.” A hint of the anger Sam expected edged her words. “But, you didn’t.”
Sam choked back an apology. In truth, he didn’t know if he could apologize for ignoring the calls. Had he answered them, he might have returned home and missed reuniting with Julia.
He changed the subject. “Well, you seem to be holding up well, considering.”
“Spencer helped me through…everything.” She looked away.
Sam noted to thank Spencer for being there when he couldn’t. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”
“No, I certainly wasn’t.” Deirdre gazed at the fire.
They sat in silence until Deirdre spoke in a resigned voice. “The services are tomorrow. There’s a mass, the procession to the cemetery where some tributes will be said and a choir will sing. After that, a luncheon.”
“Well done,” Sam searched for words to comfort. “I’m glad I made it home for Penny’s services, at least.”
“At least.” Deirdre stood and turned as if to leave but then turned back. “By the way, you look like hell.”
“How utterly kind of you. I’ve been sick.”
“Pity.”
He reached for his cigarettes.
“Sam, have you ever loved me?”
Her words jolted him. He had asked this very question of Julia less than forty-eight hours ago. He stalled for an answer. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Are your ears plugged?” She sighed. “I asked you if you ever loved me?”
Sam looked up at her. Her eyes betrayed the weariness of a worn woman.
“Deirdre. Your mother just died. Why the devil are you asking this now?”
Her voice remained deadpan. “I’m thinking of divorcing you Sam. I’d like to know your thoughts on that.”
The statement spun him.
She
wanted a divorce? How ironic. During the first years of their marriage, though he didn’t love Deirdre, he stayed married to her out of fear of her blackballing his name amongst the acting world. Money talked then, and Deirdre possessed it. Yet, later, as Sam’s talent proved him a worthy actor in his own right, and Deirdre’s threats no longer held weight, he stuck with the marriage. No one could replace Julia in his heart and the scandal of their divorce would play out in the tabloids better than any movie he could star in. But now, the fates turned, and although Deirdre talked divorce, it occurred to him that he hadn’t the slightest clue she’d been unhappy in the marriage. Perhaps she was the greater actor?
“What’s this all about? Or are we back to you inheriting a windfall and wishing not to share?”
“How can you
joke
about this?” Deirdre’s eyes flashed with rage. “I just mentioned divorce and you joke?”
Sam sighed, confused. “I’m sorry. Blame jet lag, and a nip too much of the old cold medicine. In truth, I am a tad shocked, yes.”
“A
tad
shocked?” She laughed through threatening tears, which unnerved him. Had he ever seen her cry? “My world is crumbling around me. You know I’ve loved you forever and when I ask you for a divorce you’re simply a
tad
shocked?”
Sam ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t understand her and never would. “Again, I’m sorry but you don’t seem to be all that devastated about a divorce either. You simply asked my take on the matter as if discussing how I liked the dinner vegetables.”
“And you must realize that my mother just died and maybe I’m a little numb with grief!” She turned away. When she turned back, her tears were gone.
“Well then maybe this isn’t the best time to be discussing divorce.” Did he actually say that? In her shocked state, she was all but handing him a passport to Julia, but could he be this cruel to hold her to her promise once she could think straight?
“Deirdre. I know you’re not thinking clearly right now. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. At least you had Spencer.”
Her face turned crimson. “Spencer is not my husband! My
husband
should have been here to help me, to support me, to comfort me! Maybe if you had then-”
“Then what?” She wouldn’t divorce him? He shook his head, trying to make sense of this.
Deirdre sat on the sofa. “Just never mind, Sam. Never mind. Perhaps it’s kismet that kept you away. I see things for what they are now. And that is the reason I want a divorce, not that you even cared enough to ask.”
He reached over to stroke her back but she moved away. Her announcement and the reason behind it still confused him. Did she really mean this? A divorce would grant him carte blanche to pursue a life with Julia, if only Julia would be with him. But was Deirdre serious about leaving him or was she simply out of her mind with grief? Could he take advantage of this moment to win Julia? He shook his head. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the heel he thought he could be.
“We’ll talk about this later, Deirdre. You have too much to think about now without adding divorce to the list. Plus, we don’t want the gossipmongers and paparazzi getting wind of anything between us right now. It might overshadow your mother’s funeral.” He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.
Deirdre accepted it and dabbed her eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For consistently being you.” She sniffed and straightened her hair. “Perhaps if you lied, just a teensy lie, said you loved me even a little just now, you wouldn’t have made this choice so simple. But, you being you, Sam, you just couldn’t say, not even once in this conversation that you loved me. You’ve made my choice all the easier.”
She stood, tossed his handkerchief onto his lap and stared down at him. “I slept with Spencer. See you tomorrow at the church. I’ll be staying at Mother’s home with my aunt.”
Sam sat stunned as she quickly turned on her heel and left him there, mouth agape. He tried to call after her, but his throat churned up another brutal coughing fit. As the attack eased, his mind swirled in shock.
Deirdre slept with his best friend and now wanted a divorce? He couldn’t imagine it. Spencer was never her type. Had Sam driven her into another’s arms? Why did her words feel like arrows shooting him right in the ego? He didn’t love her, so why should he care, yet he couldn’t help wondering what he had done to finally cease her long and bitter fight to keep him.
He sat in the drawing room for a long time, thinking. He might soon be to be with Julia, but Julia didn’t wish to see him again or allow him to meet his daughter.
He lit a cigarette and inhaled lightly, the fumes setting him coughing again. He reminded himself to see the doctor. First, however, he needed to get through the next few days of Penny’s services and then talk to a lawyer about this divorce. He reminded himself to also call Larry about a script he liked, and if he won the role he coveted, he’d fly to China within weeks to start the shoot. Finally, he wanted to contact Julia again and tell her of his divorce and convince her to see him. So much to do. So much to think about - Julia, Deirdre, and the possibility of happiness.
Perhaps the call to the doctor could wait.
“Ma’am?” A soft voice beckoned Julia to wake. As she begrudgingly opened her eyes, a pretty flight attendant came into view. “We will be descending into London shortly and you’ll need to return your seat to an upright position.”
Still quite groggy, Julia thanked the woman and positioned her seat to the required angle. She checked her watch, surprised to find she slept through most of the non-stop flight from Chicago.
“Business or pleasure?” A high-pitched, squeaky voice from the seat next to her brought Julia to full consciousness. The voice belonged to an elderly, white-haired woman.
Julia ran her hands through her hair, as if that would make it more presentable. “I’m sorry, what?”
The woman’s blue eyes twinkled. “Business or pleasure? What brings you to London dear?”
Julia rested her head back against the seat. Memories of the last time she saw Sam flooded her mind. She hadn’t expected to see him in New York five years ago. Their meeting had been awkward at first, then confrontational, then heartbreaking and brutally honest. And at the end, she chose to leave him, not because she wanted to, but because it was what everything led to. She had no other choice but to deny him, and return to those whose love she could justify, John and Elizabeth’s. Theirs was a faithful love, but it couldn’t quell the ache for Sam.
“London’s just a heartbeat away,” the old woman announced as airport lights sparkled below.
“A heartbeat away,” Julia said. Tears filled her eyes as she recalled what brought her to London.
Sam might die.
Julia retrieved her luggage from the baggage claim area at Heathrow and pushed through throngs of travelers to the airport’s main doors. She spotted a waiting taxi. The driver got out and helped put her luggage in the trunk.
“Where to, love?” He was a kindly British gentleman and Julia appreciated his help with her things.
She told him the name of the private London hospital Sam was in. The call from Spencer had shocked her. She barely remembered him, having met the man only once in London many years ago. During the call Spencer re-introduced himself as Sam’s friend, and stated that Sam was very ill, wanted to see her and could she come? Julia stood speechless, holding the receiver. In the past five years, Sam tried frequently to contact her, yet she ignored his calls, and later, when she bought a computer and he somehow found her e-mail address, she blocked him from contacting there as well. She waited to see if he divorced Deirdre, but no news reports, television entertainment shows or celebrity magazines reported it. Sam still arrived arm in arm with Deirdre at televised movie premiers and charity events. Julia shrugged the hurt away, reminding herself that it mattered little whether or not Sam divorced. She could not possibly be with him without hurting her family.
Spencer explained that he could not give her more details concerning Sam’s illness but expressed great urgency that Julia make the trip. Julia’s mind said she should not go to Sam. She’d need to leave her family. Second, she’d have to explain this to John. But then Spencer reiterated Sam’s desperate plea to see her, hinting that his condition was grave. Fearing that this might be her last chance to see Sam, Julia’s heart decided what her head could not. She would go to London.
The taxi ride to hospital was short, but after Julia paid the driver and recovered her luggage, fatigue set in like a heavy blanket. Trying to ignore overwhelming jet lag, she drew a deep breath for energy and considered checking into a hotel. She brushed the thought away. She needed to see Sam now. Five years had passed since their unexpected meeting in New York when he vowed to be with her, and she denied him. Yet, over the years, she never stopped thinking about him. A flame burned eternally in her heart for Sam, and nothing would extinguish it. She imagined seeing him again at some time, but never, in her wildest dreams had she pictured it like this.
Julia straightened and walked into the hospital. She pulled her suitcases to the Patient Information Desk and set them beside her.
A slim-figured, casually attired woman sat at the computer station. She glanced over the top of her bifocals. “May I help you?” Her accent was clipped and very British.
“Yes, thank you. Can you point me in the direction of the Intensive Care Unit?”
“Do you have family in the unit?”
“Um, yes,” she lied, sensing only relatives might be allowed to see Sam. She smiled as sweetly as her tired body could muster and remembered the alias Spencer asked her to use for Sam. “Bryce Wilmington.”
The woman sat up as straight and tight as the bun in her jet-black hair. The name captured her attention. Bryce Wilmington was the character Sam played in his first BBC mini-series. He won the role while Julia was with him in London.
“Well, you need to be on the family’s approved visitor list,” the woman stated. “Your name, please?”
Julia hesitated. She knew she wasn’t on the “family” list, unless Spencer somehow found a way to add her.
“Your name?” The woman waited patiently.
“Julia Riley.”
The woman checked the list, twice. “I’m sorry, Ms. Riley, but your name isn’t on here.”
“I doubt it is,” Julia said, thinking quickly. “The family didn’t expect me. I flew in from the States quite hurriedly-”
“Well, you should have phoned the family to tell them you were arriving so they could put you on the list.” The woman stood and leaned closer to Julia, lowering her voice. “As you and I both know, Ms. Riley, we just can’t let
anybody
up to see Mr. Wilmington.” She threw a knowing glance Julia’s way.