Adela’s face suffused into a deep red. Luke’s face was carefully controlled. He said not a word, but walked up behind Adela and placed his hands on her shoulders. She erupted.
“We’ll contest this. This woman took advantage of him. She’s a cheat, a thief.”
Juli remembered the Hammonds’ party and Luke’s suspicions. It hurt that he’d spoken of them to Adela, but why not? There was no reason for him not to have spoken to Adela about anything concerning Ben.
“Adela, please. Come with me.”
Luke tried to lead her away, but she wasn’t having it. She shook his hands off of her arms.
“This was a business arrangement. This marriage was for convenience. Platonic. Luke, you told me yourself they were no more than roommates.”
“Adela, that’s enough.” Luke’s voice sounded weary.
She persisted, “This wasn’t part of the contract.”
Mr. Lawson had drawn back from her as if not wanting to be swept up into her tirade. Now, he said, “No. This is apart from the contract, but tied to the fulfillment of the contract.”
“The contract was contingent upon her not breaking the marriage vows, being unfaithful. Adulterous.” He frowned. “Do you have reason to believe that the terms of the contract were violated?”
Adela’s eyes burned. Luke moved closer to her. “Don’t do or say something you’ll regret. This is an emotional time. We’re all stressed.”
Mr. Lawson shook his head. “Luke is right. This isn’t the time, and it’s a moot point in any case. It would have been up to Ben to revoke the contract, so unless you have some reason to believe—a very solid reason—that Ben intended to revoke the contract for cause, then there is nothing further to discuss.”
Juli forced herself to speak. “I want you all to leave now. You’re discussing me and my character, as well as private matters between Ben and me. If Ben had wanted your opinion, he would’ve asked for it. He didn’t ask for mine either, but he has made his wishes plain.” Juli stood, gathering her dignity, wishing it were armor. “I need to lie down now.” She turned to Mr. Lawson, “I hope it will be okay for us to discuss this later. Perhaps in a day or so?”
“That will be fine. Call my office.”
“This isn’t over, Juli.”
“Adela, I’ll take the house key.” Juli held out her hand.
Adela looked at Luke and at Fred Lawson, as if demanding they come to her aid. She stalked over to the end table and fished inside her purse, pulling out a key ring. She twisted a key from the ring, then threw it to the floor.
Luke hustled Adela out the door. Mr. Lawson stooped to retrieve the key. He placed it on the table. “Call me,” he said, and left.
On unsteady legs, Juli crossed the room and locked the door, deadbolts and slide bolts included. She leaned there, her face against the cool metal for a minute. Her head was spinning and nausea was threatening in a mild way, but impossible to ignore. She hadn’t eaten today. Juli pushed away from the door, then jiggled the knob on the other door. Locked, too. She was tempted to collapse on the sofa, but instead pulled herself upstairs. She stripped as she went, dropping her clothing wherever it landed, and fell into bed.
She slept heavily until three a.m. Frantic, confusing dreams woke her. She got up to use the bathroom. Lightheaded and shaky, she clung to the bedpost until the room settled down. The vertical blinds at the balcony door had been left open. Moonlight lit the open area of the room and across the hall the same moonlight touched Ben’s room. She followed the light into his room. It was almost as neat and impersonal as a motel room—like a weekly rental, like its twin in the duplex on the eastern side of the house—except for the shirt hung over the back of a chair.
Juli put the shirt to her face. Ben’s scent was faint. This was his white dress shirt, the one he wore to church. She put it on. It reached partway down her thighs. She buttoned a couple of buttons somewhere in the middle and went downstairs, fuzzy-headed, thirsty.
It was the pre-dawn hours of Sunday morning. The old renters would be gone soon and the new people would arrive later in the day. It reminded her of their wedding weekend, months earlier.
Drawn by her memories, she walked out the door and down the crossover, barefoot and careful of splinters. The onshore breeze—light tonight—plucked at the shirttail, flipping the hem around her thighs and hips.
She was alone again beneath the stars.
The waves rolled up the packed sand and over her feet. Their roar was no longer a novelty, but a constant presence.
She couldn’t hate the ocean for taking Ben. The ocean did what the ocean did, as did Ben when he chose to rush to the aid of the child, as he’d admired Juli for doing a few days before.
It was as much her fault as anyone’s. No one’s.
It was just what it was.
She stood silently, head bent against the wind, hair wrapping across her face, catching in her eyes and mouth. She reached up to pull it away and found her face wet. Tears had come of their own volition, running down her cheeks, into the crease of her neck and wetting Ben’s white shirt. She fell to her knees and shared her grief with the ocean.
Chapter Twenty
Morning beach walks began and ended earlier—in the translucent dark between night and day. Sometimes the morning fog cloaked Juli, sometimes the air was clear, but few people were up and about at that hour.
Pelicans skimmed the waves for breakfast before dawn. Sand pipers ran across the wet sand leaving miniature, twiggy footprints. One or two fisherman already had their lines out before the sun rose. No one wanted to chat in the pre-dawn hours. No one looked at her with curiosity—or worse, played and laughed, oblivious to what had so recently occurred. Among the transient population, memories of local events departed with the vacationers. History restarted itself for each new set of arrivals.
Before the light was strong, she was back in the house.
During the hazy days surrounding the funeral, new renters had arrived. She didn’t want to know their names. They arrived after Ben’s death and had immediately and enthusiastically jumped into their vacation with no regard for the tragedy shaking the world.
Shaking
her
world. The only world she had.
The new tenants were on the porch a lot. Their children constantly pounded up and down the crossover, running and chasing. They shouted and had water battles using the hose intended for washing sandy feet. Disrespectful.
She stood at the front door, observing them through the glass panel, her hand on the knob, resisting the need to tell them—to instruct them—that this was a house of mourning. Her hand trembled. She stepped back and dropped the blinds, closing the slats. She went all around the main floor, closing blinds. When she was done, she sat in the dim living room with her hands folded in her lap.
The funeral was a blur. There’d been a few friendly faces at the service. She’d met a handful of people, fellow mourners. Most had kept their distance. Even given the natural stress, Luke’s parents—Ben’s aunt and uncle—were very cool towards her. Or maybe they were grief-stricken. When Luke introduced them, they didn’t touch her in any way—not a hug or a handshake—and vanished when her back was turned.
Light twinkled between the blinds where the cords cut through the slats. Ben would be disappointed. He liked light. Opening the blinds was the first thing he did every day. If he had his way they would never be closed.
She went back around, pulling the cords to open the slats.
It must be suppertime. Not that she was hungry.
She’d only ever cooked for one, until Ben. It should’ve been easy to go back to her old habits, yet how many times would she pull the egg carton out to fix Ben’s breakfast before remembering?
Her appetite had been suspended, but she knew it was temporary. The clock said one thirty-two p.m.
Only one thirty-two.
She sat again on the sofa to wait until she came up with something else to do.
Surely, this was an ironic form of hell—trying to live Ben’s life without Ben.
****
Juli called Mr. Lawson’s office on Monday morning and spoke with his administrative assistant. They scheduled an appointment for Tuesday afternoon.
Juli had a problem. Ben had paid all the bills. He hadn’t involved her in his finances. She’d expected to complete the contract, take the final payment and then go her way, so she never asked questions. Ben kept his bills current, but it wouldn’t be long before they were due again.
She could hardly believe Ben had changed his will to make her his sole heir. Someone was going to snatch it back. Maybe they should. This hadn’t been part of the bargain, but then, neither had the feelings Ben and she had come to share.
Juli had found an address book in the desk drawer and reviewed the names. Luke and Adela had contacted everyone who should be notified of Ben’s death. There were so many at the funeral service they could hardly have missed anyone.
She didn’t know most of these names, but recognized the pastor’s name. She wanted to thank him again for conducting the service. Ben would like that. Juli added his name to the list she was making.
She was in over her head.
Who might help her? If she dared ask him, Luke would be best. He was the executor and Ben had told her to go to Luke if she needed help.
Juli roamed the house most evenings, unable to settle to anything. Every creak and groan in the walls or the stairs seemed to demand attention, to warn of danger. She turned the TV volume up loud so she wouldn’t hear them.
Early one afternoon Anna knocked on the front door. Juli saw her through the glass panel. She’d skipped classes since Ben died and she felt like a truant.
Juli opened the door with a smile on her face, but it crumpled abruptly when she tried to say hello.
“Oh, my dear girl. Cry. It will help.” Anna hugged Juli and guided her over to the kitchen chair. “I’ll make us some tea, shall I?”
“I’m sorry.” She sniffled and drew a tissue from her pocket.
“Cry some more if you need to, it’s fine. Get it out of your system and then get to work.”
“Work?” Sniff. “Find a job?”
“No, no. Get to your easel. There’s nothing like putting paint to canvas to cure whatever ails you. Be it heartbreak, grief, anger—paint it out.”
She shook her head. Paint? Impossible.
Or maybe not.
She had the easel Ben had given her. She could set it up here and continue to stay inside the house.
Anna found lemon in the fridge and the sugar bowl on the counter. She carried them over to the table and went back for the kettle. “And get out of this house. Come back to class.”
Juli shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Nonsense. If you don’t want the others to ask about Ben or how you’re doing, I’ll tell them not to. But to stay away? No, you need to come back, at least for a while, so they won’t think their presence at the funeral was unappreciated.”
“It was appreciated.” Juli noted Anna’s red-rimmed eyes and remembered Anna had been Ben’s friend for many years. Anna felt grief, too. “Thank you for coming over.”
“I lost my husband years ago. I remember how it was. It’s hard to lose someone dear to you.” She reached over and patted Juli’s hand. “It takes time to learn new habits, to go from being a couple to being on your own again.”
“We weren’t married very long.”
“You cared about him and he cared about you. You two fell into being a couple as easy as pie.”
“It’s strange being alone now. Especially at night. Noises and all.” How could she be confessing this to anyone? Afraid of noises at night? Next she’d be needing a night light.
“That’s normal. Get an alarm system. Or maybe it’s fronting on the ocean that’s the problem. Between the wind and the water, any house is bound to creak. An oceanfront house needs extra care too, more than you’re accustomed to living inland.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility to manage on my own.”
“Now that does sound scary. Noises, not so much.” Anna laughed.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t even believe this is mine. Not really. What did I do to earn it? We had a business arrangement, a generous business arrangement.”
“You feel guilty?”
She nodded. “Yes. No. I do, but I’m also happy about it, and I think that’s what I feel guilty about. It sounds stupid to say it out loud.”
“It does.”
“So, I think I’ll stop.”
“Excellent.” Anna clapped. “And you’ll come back to class?”
****
Pastor Herrin knocked on the door. It was the one action she’d taken on her own, calling him and inviting him over. Juli was looking forward to his visit. He was a connection to Ben—a living, breathing piece of her wedding memory.
“Tea or coffee?”
“A glass of water would be welcome.”
“Please have a seat.”
When she returned she was surprised to see he’d taken Ben’s chair at the table by the window. She put the coaster down and set the glass of water on top of it. She hadn’t noticed before, but the table and the puzzle pieces were already dusty.
“I want you to know I appreciated your support of Ben when we married and later, too.”
“I was concerned about Ben’s plan to marry. Knowing what he was going through, it seemed too sudden a decision, but Ben opened his heart to me and I agreed to perform the service. When I met you on your wedding day and saw how you two cared about each other, my worries fell away.”
“How we cared about each other? We barely knew each other.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, I know, but I saw something special about the two of you. Was I wrong?”
“No, I don’t think so…I came to love him. I wasn’t
in
love with him.” Was that stress in her voice? Guilt? Ben had known. They hadn’t pretended with each other.
Pastor Herrin nodded. He had soft blue eyes. Kind eyes.
“People marry for love every day. Love means different things to different people. For many, it becomes confused with passion. If a marriage has a good foundation, and the spouses are honest and committed, the ‘in love’ often grows into love. Love is too precious not to value however it comes to us. Both you and Ben were two people who entered into a marriage with good will—people of good heart and intention with the capacity to love. And, in this case, it was a very special situation.”
Her face was warm and likely bright red. “Pastor, I don’t want to seem dishonest. You know this began as a business arrangement, right?”
“Yes, I understood. All the more reason to celebrate two loving hearts who supported each other during a time of great need.”
“I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t know what you said about Ben during the service. I’m sorry, it didn’t stick in my mind.”
“Juli, this is a very stressful time. Sometimes it’s enough to do our best—to get through our troubles with dignity and charity—with hope for a better day. That’s one way to think of faith. We are fortunate to be able to call upon our Savior and Lord for help. This was something dear to Ben’s heart. When I gave Ben’s eulogy, I spoke from the Books of Matthew and Romans.”
He waited, but she stayed silent, so he resumed. “When I think of Ben, I think of faith. Ben believed that, with faith, all things are possible. When I remember how he loved his church, his family, and his friends, I think of a stone that is dropped into a lake. A small stone, a pebble, that sends fluid ripples across the surface. Ripples that repeat and repeat, effortlessly, in a shared unity, until they have touched the whole lake.”
The pastor folded his hands on the table. “His faith assured him that his actions and words, even the least of them, would touch other people.”
“He had faith, but he died anyway.”
“He did. Faith also means that we bow to God’s will. Juli, Ben never prayed to live. He prayed to live well, and that when it was God’s will to take him, that he, in his physical form, would die well and go to his Savior with a glad heart.”
“You mean that he was spared pain?” She winced at the snappish sound of her voice. “I overheard people say it at the funeral—
at least he was spared the worst of the pain
.”
“I’m glad Ben was spared pain, but that’s not what I mean. I mean he died, not looking back upon his life with despair, but looking forward to being with his Savior. I know he wasn’t ready to go in the sense that he wanted to leave, but when he could’ve held back, and no one would have blamed him, he went into the ocean to save a child.”
She couldn’t resolve it in her mind. The pastor’s words sounded good and even rang true in her heart, but the idea of faith was foreign to her.
“Juli. I’d like to ask you something.” He reached out and touched the puzzle pieces. When he moved one, it left a faint outline. “Are you working this puzzle?”
She shook her head. “It was Ben’s.”
“I see. Would you like some help picking it up?”
She pushed the box over to him. He started gathering the pieces and she joined in. A stupid puzzle—why did it feel so good to have it out of the way?
Juli shook his hand warmly as he was leaving.
“It meant a lot to Ben when you attended church with him. You know you’re always welcome. I hope you’ll come and see us again.”
“Thank you. Just now, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“I understand. You are welcome to think about it under our roof.” He laughed softly. “Sometimes I do my best thinking there. If you don’t mind, I and our congregation will keep you in our prayers.”
After Pastor Herrin left, she called Luke and asked for his help. He didn’t answer so she left a message on the voicemail, “Luke, I’d appreciate it if you’d call me. I need some help figuring out Ben’s finances.”
****
Luke showed up at her door on Saturday morning. His hair was slightly ruffled by the wind. He wore a loose, casual shirt that made him look broader through the shoulders, khaki shorts and sandals.
“Juli?”
“Come in, please.” She stepped aside. “I appreciate your willingness to help. Coffee?”
“No.” Not even a hint of a smile lightened his face. He nodded toward the study. “In there? What can I help you with?”