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“Does Scott have a girlfriend?”
“He was dating a woman in his office, but they broke up right before Mom got sick.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rachel sighed. “My family is like a Dickensian novel, Julia. No, it’s worse. We’re a twisted mix of Arthur Miller and John Steinbeck, with a bit of Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy thrown in.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Yes, because I have the feeling there are elements of Thomas Hardy lurking below the surface. And you know how much I hate him. Mind-fucking bastard.”
Julia thought about this and hoped for her friend’s sake that the Hardy novel approximating the Rachel Clark experience was more Mayor of Cast-erbridge than Tess of the D’Urbervilles or, God forbid, Jude the Obscure.
(Unfortunately, Julia did not pause to consider which Hardy novel best described her own experiences…)
“With Mom gone, everything is in upheaval. Dad is talking about retiring and selling the house. He wants to move to Philadelphia to be closer to me and to Scott. When he asked Gabriel if he minded if he sold the house, Gabriel flipped out and wandered off into the woods. We didn’t see him again for hours.”
Julia inhaled sharply and began to fidget with her messenger bag.
Rachel was too busy placing her teacup on the card table and walking to the bathroom to notice, but something she said had upset Julia deeply. By the time Rachel returned, Julia had calmed herself through no little effort and was adding hot water to the teapot.
Rachel fixed her friend with a concerned look. “What did Gabriel say that bothered you so much when you were dancing with him? And by the way, my Spanish is rusty but Besame Mucho is a pretty hot song! Did you even listen to the lyrics?”
Julia focused her attention on her tea and tried very hard not to hyperventilate. She knew she was going to have to lie to Rachel, and it was not a decision she took lightly. “All we talked about is the fact that he knew I was a virgin.”
“Bastard! Why the hell does he do things like that?” Rachel shook her head. “You just wait, I’ll get him. He has these photos in his bedroom, and I’m going to…”
“Don’t bother. It’s true. Why should I try to hide it?” She bit her lip.
“I just can’t figure out how he knew. It’s not as if I bring it up in polite conversation: Good afternoon, Professor Emerson. My name is Miss Mitchell, and I’m a virgin from Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania. Pleased to meet you. ”
Rachel waved her hand dismissively. “Think about it. He’s never exactly been in want of female companionship. I’m sure you seem different to him; you were probably the only girl at the club, apart from me, who wasn’t in heat.”
Julia looked disgusted, and rightly so, but didn’t comment.
“When you came off the dance floor you looked as if you’d seen a ghost. Like how I imagined you would have looked the night you saw Si — ”
“Please, Rachel. Don’t. I can’t talk about that night. I can’t even think about it.”
“I could run him over with my car for what he did to you. I still might do that. Is he in Philadelphia? Give me his address.”
“Please,” Julia begged, hugging her arms protectively across her chest.
Rachel pulled her friend into a warm embrace. “Don’t you worry. You’re going to be happy someday. You’re going to fall in love with a beautiful boy, and he’s going to love you back so much it will hurt. And you’re going to get married and have a baby girl and live happily ever after. In New England, I think. At least, that’s the story I’d write for you, if I could.”
“I hope your story comes true. I’d like to believe something like that is possible, even for me. Otherwise, I just don’t know…”
Rachel smiled. “You, of all people, deserve a happy ending. Despite everything that happened to you, you aren’t bitter. You aren’t cold. You’ve just retreated a little and been shy, and that’s okay. If I were a fairy godmother, I would give you your heart’s desire in an instant. And I would wipe away your tears and tel you not to cry. I wish Gabriel had taken a page from your book, Miss Julia. He could have learned a thing or two from you about how to deal with heartbreak.”
Rachel released her friend, looking at her closely before she spoke again.
“I know that it’s a lot to ask, but will you look out for Gabriel?”
Julia leaned over the teapot on purpose, refilling their cups so that Rachel couldn’t see her face. “Gabriel has nothing but contempt for me.
He’s merely tolerating me for your sake.”
“That’s not true. Believe me, that is simply not true. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He can be…cold. But apart from his biological parents, I don’t think he’s ever hated anyone, other than himself. Not even Scott during their worst fight.”
Julia shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything, really. Just keep your eyes open.
And if you see him…starting to act strangely, or if he’s in trouble, I want you to call me. Day or night.”
Julia wore an incredulous expression.
“I’m serious, Julia. With Mom gone, I’m worried that his darkness is going to return. And I can’t lose him again. Sometimes I feel as if he’s standing on the edge of a very high cliff, and the slightest movement, the slightest breath of wind, will push him over the edge. I can’t let that happen.”
Julia’s eyebrows knitted together, and she nodded. “Al I can do, I will do.”
Rachel closed her eyes and exhaled. “I feel so much better knowing that you’re around. You can be his guardian angel.” She laughed softly. “Maybe some of your good luck will rub off on him.”
“I have nothing but bad luck, and you, of all people, should know it.”
“You’ve met Paul. He sounds nice.”
Julia smiled.
Rachel was pleased by her friend’s smile. “Paul doesn’t seem to be the type who’d mind if you were a — you know. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
Julia laughed. “You can say it, Rachel — it’s not a curse word. And no, I don’t think Paul would mind that I’m a virgin. But we don’t talk about such things.”
Shortly thereafter, Rachel hugged Julia good-bye and climbed into a cab so that she could return to her brother’s apartment.
“When I final y work through the monumental pile of issues that I have to deal with, I’m planning a wedding. And I’m expecting you to be my maid of honor.”
Julia felt tears form at the corners of her eyes. “Of course. Just name the date. And I’ll help you plan it too, if you need some help.”
Rachel blew her a kiss out the open window. “I was dreading this trip, but I’m so happy I came. At least two broken pieces of my life are coming back together. And if Gabriel gives you any shit, any shit at all, you call me, and I’ll hop a plane!”
With Rachel’s departure, Julia and Gabriel were forced to part company with their solid and secure St. Lucy. But in true saint-like fashion, she had accomplished all of her tasks before she returned home, and she had planted seeds that would soon blossom, in unexpected ways.
Chapter 11
Late Tuesday afternoon, Julia and Paul sat in the Bloor Street Starbucks enjoying their respective coffee drinks, curled up together on a purple velvet loveseat and talking. They were sitting close but not too close. Close enough that Paul could admire her beauty, far enough away that Julia could watch his large, kind eyes and not feel overly-nervous. Or crowded.
“Do you like Nine Inch Nails?” she asked, cupping her coffee in two hands.
Paul was taken aback by her question. “Uh, no. No, I don’t.” He shrugged. “Trent Reznor twists my head around. Unless he’s singing backup for Tori Amos. Why, do you?”
Julia shivered. “Absolutely not.”
He pulled a cd out of his briefcase and handed it to her. “I like this kind of stuff. Music I can write my dissertation to.”
“I’ve never heard of Hem before,” she mused, turning the jewel case over in her hand.
“They have a song I think you’ll like. It’s called Half Acre. They used to play it on an insurance ad on television, so you might have heard it before.
It’s beautiful. And no one yells at you or screams or tells you he wants to fu — ” Paul stopped suddenly and reddened. He was trying very hard to watch his language around her but having only marginal success.
She tried to hand the cd back to him, but he refused. “I bought it for you. Rabbit Songs for the Rabbit.”
“Thanks, but I can’t.”
He seemed offended. And hurt. “Why not?”
“I just can’t. But thank you anyway.”
Paul looked down at Julia’s new messenger bag, resting at her feet.
He squinted.
“You accepted a nice briefcase from someone. Early Christmas present from a boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she admitted uncomfortably. “My best friend’s mother wanted me to have the briefcase. She passed away recently.”
