Thursdays At Eight (23 page)

“As far as I know,” Karen said. “I tried to call her this week, but she hung up on me.”

“Could it have been her husband who answered the phone?”

“No, it was Victoria, and as soon as she heard my voice she slammed down the receiver.”

“How sad,” Liz said sympathetically. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm worried about her, naturally, but my fears are for Bryce, too,” Karen said. “Every time Roger unleashes his anger on my sister, he's telling his son it's all right to hit someone smaller and weaker.” She frowned darkly. “Mother said Victoria denied everything.”

Liz had hoped that Karen's mother would be a catalyst in
this situation. Realizing she had the love and support of her family might lend Victoria the courage to reach out for help.

“If she doesn't call you or your mother, who can she call?” Clare asked.

Karen lowered her gaze. “I don't know, but I refuse to give up. I'm stopping by her place this afternoon. She won't have any choice but to talk to me then.”

“Good!”

“How did Alex's graduation go this weekend?” Liz asked Clare.

A moment's hesitation was followed by, “Good.”

From the flat way she spoke, Liz knew something was wrong. So did the others, because everyone stopped to look at Clare.

“What?” Clare demanded.

“You'd better tell us what happened,” Liz said. She hadn't noticed earlier that her friend was troubled, but she saw it now. Clare had looked tired and stressed ever since she'd started work at the dealership; today she also seemed distracted.

“Nothing's wrong.”

“You might fool some of the people some of the time, but you can't fool us,” Karen said, leaning forward, elbows on the tabletop. “Tell us what's going on.”

A hint of a smile turned up Clare's mouth.

“We're waiting,” Julia said, crossing her arms as though to say she'd sit there all day if necessary.

Clare exhaled noisily. “Michael insisted on attending the graduation.”

Liz frowned. “He's been hospitalized all week.”

“I know. Alex said he wanted him at the ceremony, if possible, and then Michael said he wasn't going to let his son down.”

“How'd he get there?”

“Taxi.” Clare drank the last of her espresso, but clung
tightly to the small cup. “He wouldn't ask me because we'd had an argument.”

“About the graduation?” Julia asked.

“No, the dealership. He's constantly checking up on me and it was driving me nuts. I talk to him nearly every day, but I haven't seen him since we had lunch together at the end of April.” She paused and dragged in a deep breath. “Alex didn't say that Michael was going—he couldn't. He was afraid that Mick wouldn't show up if he learned his father planned to be there. He was probably right, too.”

“How come you saw each other?” Julia asked.

“Assigned seating. Each family was allowed three tickets, and all three of ours were together.”

“Oh, dear,” Karen whispered.

“Michael looks dreadful, just dreadful. Mick was shocked… So was I. At first, he tried to pretend Michael wasn't there. I knew the medical procedure hadn't gone well, but I had no idea how badly he's doing. Later I glanced over and I could tell Mick was having a hard time seeing his father again, especially in this condition.”

“How bad is he?” Liz asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Bad. Really bad. He's down over fifty pounds now and…and his skin is this sickly yellow color.” Clare pinched her lips together. “He's dying… He told me he was, but I don't think I actually believed it. I guess I couldn't bring myself to accept it.”

“Now there's no denying it, is there?” Julia reached across the table and placed her hand on her friend's.

Liz placed her hand on top of Julia's and Karen set her own hand over all of theirs.

“I don't know how he endured the two-hour ceremony. He was so weak he could barely sit up.”

“I wonder if Mick understood how ill his father is?”

Clare's eyes teared. “I think he knew more than I realized. Alex must have said something.”

“It's so hard.” Liz knew this from experience. Unlike her husband, her father had died a lingering death. “Even when you're prepared for a death, you're not really.”

“Did they talk?” Karen asked.

“Not at first.” Clare dug in her purse for a tissue. “It was as if they were invisible to each other. Then the graduates entered the auditorium and everyone stood as ‘Pomp and Circumstance' was played. Mick and I stood and…and Michael tried to.”

“He fell?”

“No…Mick caught him and helped him back into his chair. The next thing I knew, they were both weeping and clinging to each other.” Tears rolled down Clare's face. She half-sobbed, half-laughed as she said, “It was quite a display for the rest of the audience. Some of them were crying, too.”

“Is Michael back in the hospital now?” Liz asked quietly.

Clare didn't answer immediately. “He's with us.”

“With you?” Karen repeated.

“He can't go back to the rental house. At this point he's incapable of living on his own. So…he's living with the boys and me.” She bit her lip hard, leaving tooth marks. “He's come home to die.”

JULIA MURCHISON

July 4th

List of Blessings

1. Sleeping in on a holiday.
   
2. America the Beautiful.
   
3. Fireworks.
   
4. Family barbecues, especially when Peter does the cooking.
   
5. Georgia, who helps me laugh at myself and at the curve life's thrown me.
   

I
slept in late this morning, and while Peter and the kids are out picking up some last-minute supplies for the barbecue, I'm taking an hour for myself. After a long soak in the tub, I decided to write in my journal.

The last time I did that was a week ago. I can hardly believe seven days have passed. Usually I write every morning, but my
body seems to require more sleep lately and when the alarm rings, I just can't drag myself out of bed. Peter feels that if I'm in need of extra sleep, I should take it. I do, but then the morning's one mad rush and my day's completely off-kilter.

This pregnancy is completely different from my previous two. At first I assumed it was because I'm fourteen years older, and my body knows it. I suspect there's more to it, though; the fact that I'm forty explains some of the differences but not all of them. However, Dr. Fisk keeps telling me that every pregnancy is unique. Maybe this is just going to be a more difficult baby. That's certainly been the case so far!

At least my fears that there's something wrong with the baby have been calmed now that all the test results are in. I thank God we're going to have a healthy child. It was a real worry, although both Peter and I pretended not to be concerned, something we each did for the other's sake. I know how relieved I was with the good news and I could tell he was, too.

Today is going to be fun. Georgia and Maurice are coming over for a barbecue. The kids get a real kick out of my cousin, and she thinks they're fabulous. Georgia can be outrageous but these last few months I've been more grateful than ever for her friendship and emotional support.

Throughout this pregnancy, she's cried with me and laughed with me. When I was down in the dumps about being forty and wearing maternity clothes, she put on a smock and stuffed a pillow in her waistband just so I wouldn't feel foolish. You gotta love a cousin like that!

After the barbecue, we're all heading over to the pier to watch the fireworks. Adam and Zoe will probably meet up with their friends before then, and everyone will rendezvous back at the house at ten-thirty for banana splits, a family Fourth of July tradition.

Today, I refuse to worry. I refuse to give one minute's thought to the lack of day care arrangements for this unborn child. I refuse to feel upset about Adam and Zoe's selfishness. I will not, under any circumstances, weigh myself.

On the other hand, I will laugh and enjoy my family. I will eat whatever I want this afternoon and refuse to feel guilty for doing so. Also, I'm going to find an excuse to let others wait on me. I intend to sit with my feet up and enjoy the sunshine, appreciate my family and salute my country.

That's quite a manifesto for one day, but I plan to do everything within my power to make it happen.

 

“Don't
you
look comfortable.” Georgia stood, hands on her hips in front of the lounge chair.

Shading her eyes, Julia glanced up. She smiled, revelling in the late-morning sunshine.

“I am in hog heaven.” Julia rarely had an opportunity to indulge herself like this—to actually lie in the sun and do nothing. It was an interlude she cherished all the more for its brevity. Everything for the barbecue was in the refrigerator, including three different salads. For the first time in her married life, she was about to serve deli-made potato salad to her family.

Adam was sure to complain about that and he could go right ahead. If he wanted to peel potatoes for an hour, then more power to him!

“Where's Maurice?”

“He's smoking a cigar with Peter.”

Julia swung her legs off the cushion. “Not in my house, they aren't.”

“Hold up,” Georgia said, giggling. “They're out front chatting with one of the neighbors.”

“You should've said so earlier.”

“And missed seeing you move so fast? That was an impressive feat.”

“Especially in my condition.” Julia rested her hands against her abdomen and admired Georgia's slim waist. Her cousin wore white slacks and a red, white and blue T-shirt with gold embroidered stars across the yoke. With her huge star-framed sunglasses and California beach tan, the effect was stunning.

“What do you mean, your condition? You've never looked better.”

Julia rolled her eyes.

“None of that, either.” Georgia wagged her finger at Julia. “It's true.”

Every woman wants to believe she's beautiful while pregnant, Julia thought, but if ever there was a delusion, this was it. Her appearance was something Julia had avoided thinking about, along with day care, baby supplies…and just about everything else.

All her life, she'd been the organized one, the list-maker, the planner. This pregnancy had completely thrown her. She had two months to prepare everyone for the impact this baby would have on their lives. So far, all she'd done was buy a crib.

But she'd promised herself she wouldn't think about any of this today. Fortunately, Zoe provided a distraction.

“Mom, should I bring out the cheese dip?” she called from the house.

“Not yet,” Julia called back.

“I'm hungry,” Adam muttered, coming onto the patio and slumping into the chair next to Julia.

“So what else is new?” She twisted around. “All right, all right, you can bring out the goodies.”

Adam rushed into the house to help his sister.

Georgia took the lounge chair he'd abandoned. “This is the life.” She lay back with a long sigh and smiled into the sun.

“What's this?” Adam demanded, holding a plastic-coated nut-crusted cheese ball.

“What does it look like?”

“What happened to the one you always make?”

“I didn't make it this year.”

“But—”

“Adam” Georgia inserted, “your mother's pregnant and she doesn't need to be standing on her feet all day cooking for the rest of us.”

“Everything doesn't have to change because my mother was dumb enough to get pregnant,” Adam exploded. “Nothing's the same anymore, and I hate it. She used to be a real person and now all she is…is pregnant.” He pitched the cheese ball at the lawn and stormed back into the house.

“What got into him?” Georgia asked, frowning as she removed her sunglasses.

Julia shrugged. “He's sixteen, has his driver's license and doesn't have his own car the way most of his friends do.”

“Now, just a minute here,” Georgia drew herself to a sitting position. “Who said it was the parents' responsibility to provide their children with their own personal vehicles?” Her words echoed Peter's outburst of a few months ago. Correct though he was, his comments hadn't done a thing to change the kids' attitudes.

“It isn't that,” Zoe said, walking onto the patio. “Adam's upset because he would've had a car if it wasn't for…” She angled her head toward Julia's abdomen.

“There was no guarantee of that,” Julia argued. She'd heard all this countless times. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Like what?” Zoe asked.

“What about names for the baby?” Georgia suggested
cheerfully. “Personally, I think babies should always be named after someone, like a favorite cousin,” she said. “That would mean George or—”

“The baby's all anyone wants to talk about,” Zoe cried. “It's the baby this and the baby that. If Mom's sick of Adam wanting his own car, then I can be sick of this baby.” She raced back into the house and slammed the sliding glass door so hard it bounced and slid partway open again.

“My goodness, what's
with
those two?”

“The joys of sharing and family life,” Julia said. But she wouldn't let either one of them ruin her stress-free, worry-free holiday. “I'm ignoring them both and suggest you do likewise.”

Georgia didn't say anything for a moment. “Are you running a fever?” she finally asked. “Are you unwell?”

“Me? What makes you say that?”

Georgia hesitated. “Being able to ignore this stuff doesn't sound like you.”

“Well, it is for today.” Julia settled back in the lounger and closed her eyes. That was when she felt a sudden, inexplicable pain. She froze for a moment, then placed her hands on her stomach. It wasn't the onset of labor; that she would have recognized.

“Something's wrong.” She choked out the words, holding her abdomen tightly, nearly blinded by pain.

“Julia, what is it?”

Julia heard her cousin but couldn't answer. Suddenly she felt liquid gush from between her legs. At first she assumed her water had broken, then she saw the blood and nearly fainted.

“Blood…oh my God, there's blood everywhere!” Georgia ran toward the house screaming, her voice filled with panic. “Call 911! Someone do something.”

Peter was at her side almost immediately, his face pale. “Honey, it's all right. Help's on the way.”

“What's happening?” Julia cried, clinging to his arms. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know… We need to get you to the hospital.”

“It's the baby…the baby's in trouble.” The panic was rising in Julia. She saw it reflected in the face of her cousin who stood next to her sobbing, hand over her mouth. Peter looked wild-eyed as he tried to comfort her. Zoe was off to one side, crying all by herself.

The next few minutes were a blur until Julia heard the sound of the emergency siren. The paramedics, directed by Adam, came through the gate into the backyard. Two young men lifted Julia from the lounger and placed her on a stretcher.

“Mom, Mom…” Zoe, weeping and nearly hysterical, grabbed her hand. “What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong.”

“I don't know, honey, I don't know.”

“Everything's going to be all right,” Peter assured them both, but his words rang false.

The paramedics carried the stretcher toward the waiting ambulance. The blood continued to gush from between her legs. So much blood. Such intense pain and a fear so paralyzing Julia could barely think.

“I'll bring the children to the hospital.”

Was that Georgia? Julia could no longer tell. Peter climbed into the ambulance with her. One of the paramedics wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm and shouted out a series of numbers to the driver. The siren blared.

“Everything will be fine in a few minutes,” Peter told her, holding tightly on to her fingers.

She clutched his hand hard, but she could feel herself weakening. “Call Liz,” she pleaded, certain she was about to pass
out. As the hospital administrator, Liz could ensure that Peter and the children would be kept informed of her condition.

“Liz?”

“Kenyon,” Julia whispered, fighting off unconsciousness. “Thursdays at eight.”

“The breakfast group friend.”

“Yes…yes.” Her eyes remained closed. She felt lightheaded, dizzy. Unreal. She had to make a determined effort to hold on to consciousness. Yet she felt almost euphoric and couldn't understand why.

The next time she opened her eyes, she realized she was at the hospital. There was a brilliant light suspended above her. Although it took a tremendous effort, she tried to lever herself up on one elbow to see who was in the room. An IV bottle hampered her progress. The nurse who stood beside her pressed a gentle hand to Julia's shoulder.

“Mrs. Murchison…”

“My husband, I want my husband.”

“You'll see him soon, okay?”

Julia couldn't imagine where Peter would be. She needed him. She wanted him with her.

“What's happening to my baby?” she asked a moment later. It was difficult to think clearly with everyone about her moving in slow motion.

A sympathetic nurse clasped her hand. “We're doing everything we can to look after your health and that of your baby.”

A man she couldn't see said something Julia didn't understand.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Julia hated it when people didn't identify themselves.

“Dr. Lowell. You're at Willow Grove Memorial Hospital. Your placenta has ripped away from the uterus. We've called
in Dr. Fisk and as soon as she arrives we'll be taking the baby by Caesarian section.”

“It's too early.” She wasn't quite seven months pregnant.

“Don't you worry, we have one of the finest preemie doctors in the state.”

“Dr. Jamison?” Julia asked, remembering what Liz had told her about Sean Jamison.

“Yes. He's already on his way.”

Relief washed over her, and she relaxed. Liz had repeatedly lauded Sean Jamison's qualifications; she obviously held his medical skills in high regard. “Good.”

“I'm going to give you something that'll make you feel sleepy now,” the nurse told her.

“All right…but please tell my husband everything's going to be fine. Can you do that for me? He's very worried and I want him to know I'm okay.”

“I'll tell him right away.” The nurse patted her hand. “Everything
will
be fine.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick and a bit slurred. Julia sincerely hoped the nurse knew what she was talking about.