Читать книгу Small-Town Girl - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 12

THE NIGHT BEFORE SCHOOL started, Julie and Russell had their first visitor who wasn’t family.

The moving truck with their furnishings had arrived four days earlier, and the hours since then had been a tangle of unpacking and sorting, arranging and rearranging. Ben had spent most of that first week with his grandparents. Tonight, though, he was reading in his room. Julie had made an effort to set up his furnishings as similarly as possible to how they’d been in Vancouver. Though Ben didn’t seem to care much.

He hadn’t complained about anything to do with the move. Nor did he appear unduly concerned about his fast-approaching first day at a different school.

“I’ll get the door,” Julie told Russell, leaving him standing at the back window, holding a sheet of fabric she’d been pinning for new curtains.

The window treatments were for show more than necessity. Julie couldn’t imagine wanting to shut out the view of sparkling lake, with green pastures and woods beyond. In Vancouver, they’d enjoyed a peek-a-boo view of the ocean. But here, the lake literally lapped at their backyard.

See? You’ve found something about this house that you like.

Walking down the hall, Julie smoothed her shirt, her hair. Stopping at the mirror by the front entrance, she checked her lipstick, then she opened the door.

“Hello?”

The woman on the welcome mat—an attractive, disheveled, smiling redhead—looked surprised to see her.

“Oh. You must be Julie.” She stepped forward, offering a wicker basket full of cookies. “I’m Heather Sweeney—an old friend of Russell’s. Just wanted to welcome your family to town.” Her gaze dropped to the pincushion in Julie’s left hand. “But you’re busy. Perhaps another time….”

“Now is fine. We were just measuring for draperies. Please come in. I’m sure Russell will appreciate the break.” She glanced at the basket in her hands, the still-warm, aromatic cookies. “How lovely of you.”

“Basic chocolate chip. Can’t really miss with those.”

“Julie? Do I have to keep holding this?” Russell’s voice traveled from the back of the house.

“No. We have company. Come and say hello.” She swiveled at the sound of his footsteps in the hall.

“Heather!” Seeing their visitor, Russell broke out in a smile, the kind that still made Julie’s toes curl. The kind she hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“I thought it might be nice to have a chance to chat before the mayhem of the first day of school,” Heather said.

Julie stepped to the side as the two friends hugged. Heather, shorter than Julie, had to stand on her toes. In Russell’s arms she closed her eyes briefly. To Julie, it seemed she deliberately took a deep breath, as if to inhale Russell’s very essence.

Silly thought.

“Let’s have a drink on the deck,” she invited. “It’s a splendid evening.”

“Good idea. I take it you two introduced yourselves?” With a hand on each of their backs, Russell led them down the hall, to the kitchen. Julie set the cookies on the counter. “We’ll have them for lunch tomorrow,” she said.

After taking orders, Russell poured a glass of pinot gris for Julie, a lager for himself and juice for Heather. They sat out on the cedar decking in padded aluminum chairs that Julie hadn’t yet had time to wipe down.

“I’m sorry for the dust.” She brushed off her own seat with her hand before sitting. “We’ve been concentrating on the inside.”

Heather wasn’t perturbed. Of course her denim shorts would wash easily.

“You must have been working hard,” she said. “The inside looks amazing. You have a talent for decorating. But then, that’s what you are, isn’t it? An interior designer?”

“Julie studied interior design in London, before she got her master’s in journalism from UBC.”

“Wow. Maybe I could have you over sometime. Get some pointers. I’d feed you dinner in exchange.”

The woman had a very friendly smile. Her light-blue eyes seemed incapable of hiding even the smallest of uncharitable thoughts.

“I’d be happy to,” Julie said, not entirely honestly. “But tell me how you two know each other.”

Their glances met and they both smiled.

“We went to school together,” Russell said. “Although I was two grades ahead.”

Heather paused to sip from her glass. “Then Russ went to university in Vancouver. We didn’t see much of him after that.”

“Heather earned her education degree in Saskatoon,” Russell told Julie. Turning back to Heather, he said, “Mom passed on the news about your wedding.” His smile faded. “And the accident.”

“That was no accident.”

“No, I guess not.” Again he made an explanation in an aside to Julie. “Heather’s husband was an officer with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. A couple of years ago, he stopped a guy on the highway. The crazy idiot pulled out a gun….”

“Oh, no.” Julie’s stomach lurched at the picture her mind all too vividly provided. Immediately her feelings toward her guest softened. “How tragic. I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, it was terrible.” Heather’s open face made it clear she was still dealing with the loss. “The man responsible turned the gun on himself right after. Somehow that made it worse for me. If he hadn’t wanted to live, anyway, why did he have to take Nick?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know this kind of thinking is pointless.”

“It’s difficult not to focus on how easily a situation could have resulted in a different outcome,” Russell said. “All it takes is a second to change your life forever.”

Julie thought about Ben and the morning of April 30. If the phone had rung two minutes later, they would have been out the door; she wouldn’t even have heard it….

“Life deals some hard blows,” Heather agreed. “I was so sorry to hear about Ben’s accident. How’s he doing?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

Russell’s and Julie’s answers collided in the quiet evening air.

“He’s getting stronger every day,” Russell elaborated. “The doctors warned us it might take some time before he fully recovers.”

To Julie, Russell sounded totally confident that one day Ben would be completely well. Yet the doctors hadn’t provided any guarantees.

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Heather said. “I know your parents were terribly worried. I can only imagine how hard it must have been on the two of you.”

Julie stared out at the lake, which lay framed between two spruce trees growing at either end of their spacious backyard. The water had turned navy in the fading light. A new chill in the air sent goose bumps over her arms.

Russell finally responded to Heather’s comment. “It’s been a tough few months.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him—I promise,” Heather said.

Julie blinked, feeling as if she’d missed a couple of steps in this conversation. After a few seconds of silence, she acknowledged the obvious. Heather had already referred to the craziness of the first day of school. Russell had mentioned her education degree.

“You’re a teacher.”

Heather glanced at Russell, then back to Julie. “Grade four.”

“Ben’s in grade four.”

“Yes. He’ll be in my class this year. I’m looking forward to meeting him.” She smiled at Russell. “And to working with you.”

“After all these years,” Russell said. “Who would have thought?”

THE KING-SIZE BED JULIE and Russell had shared in Vancouver dwarfed the small bedroom in this new home of theirs. Julie sat on one corner of the mattress, brushing her hair and listening to the creaks of an unfamiliar house.

Often she’d heard Russell complain about the never-ending noise of traffic and sirens in the city. But she found the quiet of this town much more oppressive. According to Russell, the birds would wake them at dawn. But right now, at just past eleven, she felt as if she and Russell were the only ones in this town still awake.

Ben had fallen asleep hours ago, with clean clothes for tomorrow laid out on the chair in front of his desk and a new backpack, filled with supplies she’d purchased in Vancouver, sitting on the floor next to his shoes.

Julie stopped brushing her hair and closed her eyes. The picture came, as it always did…

A size-three Converse running shoe, flying through the air, laces untied…

To replace the ruined pair, she’d bought Ben Boarders. He’d been so pleased. Apparently they were all the rage at his old school. Would they be here, too? She hoped so. She wanted badly for him to blend in and be happy. What concerned her most, of course, was his performance in the classroom. Just how slow was Ben now? Would he fit into the average of his class? Or somewhere below?

What if he couldn’t even maintain his grade level?

She’d give him a few weeks, she decided, then talk to his teacher. Heather Sweeney was certainly approachable enough. Her friendship with Russell would make her even more eager to help.

Russell came into the room from the washroom, face and neck damp. He pulled his white T-shirt over his head, balled it up and tossed it into the wicker basket just two feet from where Julie sat.

“Nice that Ben had a chance to meet his teacher before the big day tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes. I suppose I’ll get used to people dropping in unannounced around here.”

Russell had his jeans unzipped. He paused and stared at her.

“Sorry. That was churlish. I do appreciate that she took the time to stop in. I guess I just wish I’d had a chance…to tidy up a little first.” That was a lie. The condition of the house hadn’t bothered her. She wished she could have brushed her hair, freshened her makeup, put on a decent pair of sandals, instead of padding around in her bare feet. With chipped nail polish, no less.

Not that Heather Sweeney had been perfectly groomed. But the other woman had the kind of looks that benefited from being untamed. Fresh and outdoorsy.

Stealing a glance at her husband, who had stripped to his white boxers and was climbing into his side of the bed, she thought of another adjective.

Sexy.

Yes, Heather Sweeney, in her denim shorts and pink tank top had definitely been that.

Julie exchanged her brush for the novel she was currently reading. Once settled under the covers, she adjusted her pillows and looked across to her right.

“Were you good friends?”

Russell lowered a sheaf of papers to his chest—lesson plans for the upcoming week. His dark eyeglasses slid down his nose a quarter of an inch. “With Heather, you mean?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She opened her book, trying to remember which chapter she’d finished with last night. After she’d found it, she realized Russell still hadn’t answered her question. She glanced back at him.

He was staring out the window, his gaze thoughtful.

Actually, he’d seemed unsettled, in a quiet sort of way, ever since Heather left.

“She’s an old girlfriend, right?”

Russell sighed. He removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. “Yeah.”

Julie tossed her book aside. Leaning on her side, head propped up by her bent arm, she asked, “Were the two of you serious?”

“For a while. I took her to my grade-twelve grad.”

“Was that the end of it?”

“More or less. We’d planned on attending different universities, in different provinces, so it didn’t make sense to make promises to each other we’d probably be unable to keep. After all, we were young.”

The ending sounded a bit too pat. “And you never dated again?”

“Well, we saw each other occasionally at holidays—Christmas and summer.” He paused for effect. Raised his eyebrows. “Then I met this new girl in the UBC library….”

He’d met her.

For the first time since the accident, Julie felt her husband focus in on her as if he was seeing Julie his wife, not Julie the mother of his son. His eyes lingered on her face, then dipped to the neckline of her silk chemise.

Russell set his papers gently on the floor, then edged closer to her. His move made her nervous. It had been a long time. Too long. But who felt like making love when their child’s life hung in the balance?

Even as she had the thought, Julie recognized it as an excuse. Making love could have been a comfort. For both of them. And Russell had initiated a few overtures. But she’d been too stressed….

She willed her body to relax. That Russell was gentle helped. First he stroked her hair. She felt the muscles in her neck relax a fraction.

“My beautiful Julie.”

They kissed tentatively, like strangers who were trying to get to know each other again. In a way, Julie realized, that was exactly what they were. Four long months had elapsed since they’d last been intimate.

Russell slipped one hand between her and the bed, drawing her nearer. Inside his embrace, Julie tensed again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied, angry with herself. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his chest. Inhaling, she thought of Heather and that brief second when Russell’s arms had encircled the woman. What had been going on in their minds in that moment? What had Heather felt? And what about Russell?

With her husband’s hands on her body, Julie wondered about the past love affair, and suffered again the unfamiliar bite of jealousy. Why had Russell never mentioned this woman? Did that mean she hadn’t been very important to him? Or maybe the very opposite.

With her mind distracted, her body began to react and respond of its own accord. She moved beneath Russell’s touch now and reached out to him, as well. Soon the old heat and ache were rekindled.

She needed this. It had been so long. So long…

“Russell, you don’t by any chance have a condom, do you?”

“What?”

“I haven’t been taking my birth control pills. Not since…”

In the past, she had a morning routine. Vitamin C, iron and birth control. All with her morning glass of grapefruit juice. But after Ben’s accident, she just couldn’t. To worry about her vitamin levels when her son was in such a serious state had seemed selfish. And sex had been the last priority on her mind.

“Oh, Julie…” He groaned, pressing his body to hers, so she could feel the hard length of him. “Of course I don’t have a condom. We haven’t used them in years.”

“Maybe you could run out—” She cut off her sentence as soon as she remembered where they were. No such thing as a twenty-four-hour drugstore in Chatsworth, Saskatchewan. And even if there were…the clerk would probably know Russell by name. How could anyone buy a package of condoms at midnight from someone who knew their name?

She felt Russell’s hand on her hip. His fingers glided over the silk of her chemise, down the outer side of her thigh. Then he touched bare skin and traveled upward, finding her silk bikini briefs, already wet.

“We could improvise,” he suggested, his breath hot in her ear.

He was still pressed up against her, still obviously ready. Desperate, in fact.

It had been a long time since she’d seen her husband this way. She thought, maddeningly, of Heather again. Had his libido been revved by the sight of her shapely legs in her short denim cutoffs? Or the lush cleavage beneath that thin tank top?

Stop it! she ordered herself.

Russell had slipped her chemise from her shoulders. Now he kissed a trail from her breasts to her navel. And lower. Finally, her mind turned blessedly blank. Julie fell back on her pillow, breathing out a constrained moan at the sweetness of this pleasure.

“Yes,” she told her husband as he showed her precisely how inventive he could be. “Oh, yes, Russell, yes.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Russell and Ben walked to school together.

“Good luck!” In her black leather mules, Julie stepped out the front door. A cool breeze nipped through her thin cotton blouse, and she hugged her arms around her ribs.

Despite the chill, a translucent blue sky indicated that perfect Indian-summer day lay ahead. The birds Russell had promised chattered around her. A couple of doors down, two little girls dashed outside and raced in the direction of the elementary school.

Behind them strolled Russell and Ben, side by side on the road. Julie stood watching her son and her husband become smaller and smaller, smelling the fermenting raspberries on the bush under the living room window. No one had bothered to pick them this summer and they were rotting on the branches.

Eventually Russell and Ben turned right, as had the girls, disappearing from her sight. This morning Julie had awakened feeling better. Not quite happy, but a little more relaxed. Now anxiety gripped her again as she fretted over the challenges facing Ben today. How would the other kids react to his presence in their classroom? Would he be teased? Ignored? Bullied?

Her stomach constricted over the juice and toast she’d had for breakfast. If only there were something she could do to help Ben with this transition. But there wasn’t. Unable to stand the worry, she focused on planning her day. Someone from the phone company had called earlier to let her know a serviceman would be arriving later that afternoon to set up Internet access. And Ben and Russell would be home for lunch. The very idea was a novelty. In Vancouver, coming home for the noon meal had been impossible—for all of them. Here, apparently, everyone did it.

As for the morning, she needed to organize the spare bedroom, which had been designated as her office. Before that, though, were breakfast dishes to wash, beds to make.

Thinking of all the tasks she had to accomplish gave Julie an illusion of control, and that calmed her. She went inside and started with her and Russell’s room. As she pulled the sheet taut, she recalled last night and how they had tried so hard to please each other.

How was it that a man and woman could kiss and touch each other in the most intimate ways and still feel so distant? She suspected the problem was with her. She still loved Russell, although she wondered if she knew him as well as she’d once thought. Quitting his job, moving to Chatsworth—she never would have guessed these things would make him happy.

She’d believed he wanted the same things she did. But apparently not. No wonder making love wasn’t as easy as it had once been, birth control issues aside. A huge distance seemed to span between them, even when they were right next to each other.

Hopefully things would get easier over time. They’d definitely taken a step in the right direction last night. Although she still suspected she had Heather Sweeney to thank for that.

As before, the idea hurt, and Julie tried again to chase it from her mind. She was probably all wrong about Heather. After all, Russell had never mentioned her….

Julie moved on to Ben’s room—a disaster as usual. She snapped the bed linens into place and fluffed his pillow.

Usually she took pleasure in these easy, domestic tasks. She liked keeping order in their house—craved order, actually. But today she felt out of sorts, lonely…empty. Partway down the stairs with a load of laundry she realized this was the first time she’d been in this house by herself.

This house. It didn’t feel like a home, even though they’d filled it with their furniture and belongings. Despite her best efforts, the rooms somehow felt wrong.

And the place was so quiet.

Julie set the dial on the washer to permanent press. She added a scoop of detergent, then went back upstairs. Unwashed dishes from the morning’s French toast and grapefruit cluttered the counter. The boxes of office supplies she’d meant to unpack lined the hall to the bedroom.

Despite the chores requiring her attention, she grabbed her purse from the hook by the door, as well as her black cardigan. She couldn’t stand the atmosphere in here any longer. She had to get out.

Julie followed the same route her son and husband had walked that morning. Critically she assessed the homes of her neighbors, before turning right. The brown brick elementary school sat stoically on the left. The school yard stretched around it, deserted, waiting for recess.

She wished she could peek into Ben’s classroom to see how he was doing. Her husband, she was certain, would have charmed his entire grade-five class by now. Oh, maybe there’d be one or two holdouts. But not for long.

She walked up another block to Main Street. The little café on the corner seemed an obvious destination, although it made no attempt to lure customers.

Perhaps because customers wanting something to eat or drink had no choice but it.

Trying hard not to think of her neighborhood coffee shop in Vancouver—of the hand-painted wall murals, the rich, fragrant coffee aroma that hit the second she opened the door, the friendly staff who all knew her name—Julie stepped inside the café.

Beige was her first impression. Tired was her second. Not one thought had been given to decor in this utilitarian room, where the air hung thick with the odor of frying bacon and freshly made toast. The booths by the front windows were occupied—a farmer and his wife in one, a young mother and her toddler in another. A short counter with a half-dozen bar stools divided the dining area from the kitchen. To the right were another couple of booths and tables for four. Beyond those were what appeared to be video games.

Julie perched on the edge of one vinyl-covered stool. Eventually a gray-haired woman—probably in her early fifties—emerged from the kitchen, coffeepot in hand. Without a word, she put a cup in front of Julie and poured.

No sense even asking if they had espresso, Julie decided.