Seeing Julia (14 page)

As the hours go by, Reid sleeps more deeply in my arms, although I remain fearful of waking him, so I vacillate between the idea of putting him down in his crib or continuing to rock him. But my arms begin to ache from holding him in the same position for so long and at half past seven in the morning, I gently slide him into his crib, hold my breath while he snuggles into his mattress, and tuck him in with his favorite blanket.

Then, sheer exhaustion comes over me. I lean against the crib railing for support and close my eyes. I turn at the sound of Lianne in the doorway. She’s already dressed and insists on going to pick up the prescription for Reid to be there as soon as the pharmacy opens. I’m too tired to argue with her. I follow her out to my car, press money and my keys into her hands.

“Coffee. A latte would be great if you can find anything open.”

I wave at her from the driveway, turn, and get a glimpse of myself in the underdressed attire of pajama pants, the red camisole, a castoff cardigan, and wild hair. I almost laugh at the spectacle reflecting back at me from the living room window as I trek back towards the house. I have this sexy clown combination look going on, a cross between a yoga instructor and a Victoria’s secret model.

“Where’s Lianne off to this early in the morning?” Jake Winston’s now familiar southern drawl comes out of nowhere.

And, there he is, walking up the side of my house from the beach side, carrying two grande-size coffee cups, one in each hand.

“Reid has an ear infection. We were up.” I smother a yawn. “We were up half the night with him. She’s off to get his antibiotic. He’s sleeping now.”

“You should have called me.”

“I don’t know your number.” I give him a rueful smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“I should have called. I
do
have the number.” Jake looks contrite. “Merry Christmas. I brought you a latte. I got a new espresso machine and had to try it out.” He hands me a paper coffee cup with a lid. I sip at it, trying to appear casual about my attire and wild hair.

“Santa brought you an espresso machine? You must have been a very good boy.”

“Self-gifted I’m afraid.”

I laugh at his admission and invite him inside. “Self-gifting is the best kind of gift,” I tease. “Well, before I met Evan I thought that. He was the best at giving gifts I’d ever witnessed.” I set down the latte and pull my hair back into a ponytail, feeling self-conscious in front of this man I barely know.

“I should have called,” he says again.

“It’s fine. It’s no problem. I’m thinking Reid will sleep another couple of hours. Lianne will be back soon enough.” I fail at hiding another yawn.

“Why don’t I listen for Reid, while you try and get some sleep, since you were up half the night? My timetable is screwed up with London. I’m wide awake. I’ll listen for him.”

“Maybe just a half hour, until Lianne gets back?” I can barely keep my eyes open as extreme fatigue overtakes me again. “Thanks.”

I climb the stairs and fall across the bed. I really should get dressed. I think about putting on jeans and a sweater, but that’s as far it gets.
Nobody should be that good-looking
goes this errant thought in my head as I allow myself to think only pleasant thoughts about Jake Winston and his Christmas morning latte gift.

≈ ≈

Sleep. Sleep proves to be another Christmas gift. I awaken hours later and glance at the clock and linger with the thought I’ve slept a full five hours, something I haven’t been able to do in weeks.

“Well, I see you got your way about staying in bed all day on Christmas, anyway.” Kimberley stands in the doorway with a benevolent smile holding Reid. She sweeps into the room and sits down next to me on the bed. I take the baby from her and kiss him on each cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby. Has Aunt Kimberley been taking care of you?” I glance at her over Reid’s head of golden-blonde curls.

“He’s better. The antibiotics are already working their magic. He’s had a nap, three bottles, eaten three times so there have been three outfits and four diaper changes.” She grimaces at this last part and I laugh.

“You’ve been taking care of him?” I ask in surprise. “Where’s Lianne?”

“Well, Jake insisted she take the day off.” She looks at me with purpose. “Apparently, she has a cousin in Manhattan, so he arranged a car service, and off she went. I just got here an hour ago, so most of the stuff I mentioned, Jake actually did.”

“What?” My mind races. “I’ve been sleeping and Jake Winston has been taking care of my sick baby because he thoughtfully remembered it was Christmas and gave my nanny the day off? I am so … out of it. Selfish. Self-absorbed. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kimberley grabs my hand. “Everything’s fine. He’s making dinner. They’re watching football. Stephanie ran out to get more wine and a dessert.”

“Who’s all here?” I hold my breath afraid of her answer.

“Just the inner circle. Christian, Steph, Gregoire, Jake, Reid, you and me.”

“That’s the inner circle these days?”

“Yep. Why don’t you take a shower? Then, put on some jeans to go with this.” She hands me a gift wrapped in silver paper with a bright red bow. She gives me a sly look and escapes my bedroom.

“We said one gift, Kimmy.”

“It’s hardly a gift,” she says from the hallway. “Wait ‘til you see what Gregoire got me.” I hear her lyrical laugh and actually smile to myself.
Oh my God. Kimberley’s getting married.

≈ ≈

Thirty minutes later, I descend the stairs with a modicum of trepidation and this butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach and this strange pervasive joy.
What is wrong with me?
The timbre of Jake Winston’s southern accent as he talks excitedly about some football play assails me even before I race past the great room and glimpse the three of them—Jake, Christian and Gregoire—engrossed with the flat screen television.

I slip into the kitchen hoping to stay unseen and give myself a few more minutes to gain composure. I’m still a little freaked out I slept for so long, forgot to appropriately reward my nanny with the day off, basically allowed a virtual stranger to take care of my son who could serve as a heart defibrillator should I require one, and continue to wrestle with these cascading emotions of joy and sadness with the intuitive belief my best friend is getting married. Mommy guilt, widow guilt, this bizarre awareness of Jake Winston, and my self-absorption in combating the mixed feelings of happiness for Kimberley and sadness for me, all follow me into the kitchen.

Kimberley hands me a glass of champagne and fingers my silky silver blouse. “You look awesome.”

“Well, that’s a start. Thank you, Kimmy. Now, show me the rock.”

She whips out her left hand and there is the most exquisite sapphire I’ve ever seen. But a sapphire isn’t really our girl, Kimmy; I steal a covert look at her and note the tinge of panic beneath her excitement. She’s looking almost terrified, even as she says, “He did the whole on-bended-knee thing, I can’t live without you will you marry me and I got this to match your amazing eyes speech, spoken first in French and then in English, so I could confirm what he was really asking me.”

“Nothing wrong with a guy who loves white chocolate,” I say.

“No, there’s not,” Kimberley says with a wan smile.

“Did we talk dates?” Stephanie asks.

“Please. I just got engaged, a first for me, a big first. Let’s not rush things.”

“Can you believe it? Our Kimberley’s getting married. Gregoire’s already talking about this summer. Believe me, you’ve got to get going if you’re getting married here,” Stephanie says.

The most experienced bridal planner among us goes on about securing the right location in Manhattan and setting the date and making arrangements preferably by Monday, if possible.

I look over at Kimberley and confirm she’s fading fast from the thrill of showing off her engagement ring and seems less certain about belaying back down this treacherous mountain of wedding bliss after the exhilaration of the climb. The uncertainty and doubt she was expressing just a mere twenty-hours ago seems to reverberate from her. She’s not her usual self, a precious hope diamond on display that everyone wants to see. I sense her uncertainty and half expect her to race across the room, search her purse for those business cards she collected yesterday, and place a frantic call to my psychiatrist or the toll booth guy for instant validation that she’s available and always willing. Kimberley, the free spirit, doesn’t like to be pinned down by anyone, unless it’s sexual foreplay of some kind. I half-smile at this image and discover Kimberley glaring back at me.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine, absolutely fine,” Kimberley says.

Steph and I exchange uneasy looks at her use of the code word, absolutely.

Jake comes in, interrupting a moment that needs disruption and I watch my two best friends immediately respond to his captivating charm. The guy is obviously used to getting everything he wants. He’s busy asking them for pots and pans and whisks and spatulas and making himself right at home in my kitchen, while my two best friends are tripping over themselves to help him out. This is amusing in and of itself, since neither one of them spends any time near a stove. Apparently, he’s putting together some kind of pasta dish and grilling prime rib. I’m just watching this little scenario unfold with my family as they fawn over him.

Christian and Gregoire drift in; and the champagne and congratulations start to flow. The more celebratory the scene gets, the more outside of myself I feel. No longer exhausted, I just feel this vast emptiness ebb from me.

The baby monitor crackles with Reid’s familiar first stirrings from sleep. I grab a baby bottle and slip away from this surreal scene, seeking solace again with my baby. After changing him, I sink into the rocking chair. His little hands reach up toward my face and I playfully touch his fingers while he takes the bottle. The rhythm of rocking back and forth brings serenity. The clamor of hushed laughter and banter from downstairs fades away. I let my mind flow, grateful for the oblivion of nothingness. There’s no sadness, no tears, just my baby and me.

The ringing of someone’s cell phone pulls me away from my dreamlike state. Jake’s voice drifts to me from down the hallway.

“Savannah? How are you?” His voice sounds stilted and it doesn’t take long to discern what must being said on the other end. “I know. It’s just … the timing’s bad. How’s your family? Okay, I’m sorry. No. I’ll pay for it. I don’t want to put your parents out.” There’s a long pause. “I’m not in London. I decided…to come back to Amagansett. Check on the boat. Christian and Stephanie have been staying at the house. I’m at Evan’s. It seemed like the place I needed to be. Christian and Stephanie are here and his brother Gregoire, her friend Kimberley. She’s coping better than she was before … at the funeral, I mean. It’s not like that. She was Evan’s wife. He was my best friend. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just. I didn’t say that. Well, if I did, I’m sorry. Of course, I do. I do love you, Savannah. I just can’t … marry you right now. Jesus, we can’t have this conversation on the phone. I know. Would you rather I’d just not shown up at the church and leave you standing there? I did what I had to do. I’m sorry.” There’s another long pause. “I’m leaving for London in the next few days. I’ll call you. . . I’ll call you. I said I would and I will. Soon.”

The hallway grows quiet. I feel this swirling sensation of inner turmoil at hearing this one-sided conversation, something I wasn’t supposed to hear. A strange emotion I cannot name courses through me. I’m paralyzed with indecision. Should I stay here for a while longer with Reid or go? My baby sighs in his sleep. I get up and put him down in his crib and spend the next few minutes gazing at Reid. With newfound resolve, I manage to chase away most of the conflicting emotions racing through my mind over what I just heard and block out almost every little snippet I’ve inadvertently been privy to, except two. Jake told her he loved her. And, he’s going to call her. That much I do recall.

I put my index finger to my lips and lay it across my sleeping baby’s forehead. Then turn, intent on leaving Reid’s room and heading downstairs and there’s Jake, watching me from the doorway. I have no idea how long he’s been standing there. It’s been a long ten minutes since his call ended.

“Everything okay?” I say as I slip past him through the open doorway, hearing his footsteps right behind me.

“No,” he says in this low voice. “I’m sure you heard me.”

I stop and turn back to him. “Little hard not to. The house is big.” I extend my arms around like Vanna White. “But not that big.” I return his intense gaze, determined to wait him out, whatever it is he wants to say.

“I think it was better when she wasn’t speaking to me. Now, she’s just plain mad. Pissed. Pissed I’m not in London. Pissed, I forgot to call her on Christmas, which I did. She’s definitely pissed I called off the wedding.” He grimaces. “You know, just beyond mad,” he says in this forlorn southern drawl.

A very sad cowboy indeed. “
Not used to being in trouble, I take it?” His head whips up, he looks astonished I’ve called him out on this and he slowly smiles.