A Vow to Cherish (19 page)

J
ohn drove home from Julia’s house in a daze. He tried to make sense of all that had happened, but was more confused than ever.

One thing he knew for certain: he did not want to have to dread running into Julia the way he had after their confrontation in the library.

When he felt sure that Sam would be asleep, he dialed her number. She answered on the second ring.

“Julia. Hi, it’s John.”

“Yes?” Her tone was understandably frosty.

“I just wanted to make sure everything is okay between us. Are you all right?”

“I think so. I’m…I’m still trying to sort things out.”

“Me, too. But I don’t want you to worry. What happened tonight will never happen again. Okay?”

“I trust you. We just got caught up in the emotion of the moment, that’s all. And I was as much to blame as you, John. I’m sorry. Please don’t feel guilty.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that. I do feel very guilty. But it’s over now. Let’s go on from here.”

“Okay.”

“Did you make arrangements for your car?”

“It’s all taken care of, John.” There was a definite chill in her tone.

“Oh. Good.”

Silence.

“Julia, would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Well, how about going jogging with me tomorrow night? Would you feel comfortable with that?”

There was such a long silence that John wondered if they’d been disconnected. He held out an excuse. “We’re both going to be running anyway.”

He heard her sigh on the other end of the line.

“Julia?”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the park. What time?”

“Would seven-thirty be all right?”

“Okay. We should be done with supper by then. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night, John.”

Running in the park became their habit. There they felt safe from their own emotions, and it didn’t seem improper for them to be seen together in a public place. As wonderful as it was, Calypso was still a small town. John was well aware that gossip spread faster than wildfire here, and the last thing he wanted was rumor of a scandal. They were careful to come and go alone, and to keep their distance physically.

For a while John was elated with the headiness of their blossoming friendship. There were moments, though, when guilt bore down on him, like when he realized that his visits to Ellen were becoming more brief and less personal. He started forcing himself to stay longer each evening, and to endure Ellen’s angry outbursts more stoically than before.

He rationalized that Julia’s friendship fortified him for the agony he faced with Ellen. The promise of Julia’s support and encouragement did help him bear the visits each evening. Knowing that in a few minutes he could pour out his anguish to Julia—or simply engage in some lighthearted chitchat—he found himself being more gentle and compassionate with Ellen.

He had never been in better physical shape in his life. They were running three or four miles several times a week, and only the foulest weather kept them from meeting at the park those evenings at seven-thirty. Often their cooldown time stretched into an hour of walking and talking.

Occasionally Julia expressed concern that she was spending too much time away from the boys. Still she was there each evening, waiting for him.

One night, though, she told him—rather evasively, he thought—that she wouldn’t be there the next evening, a Friday night.

“Oh? Why, you have a date?” John teased her in the intimate repartee they’d grown comfortable with.

But she was serious. “Yes, John. I do.”

He literally stopped in his tracks. He stood there, breathing hard, with his hands on his waist. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am.” She kept running, and he had to hurry to catch up.

“May I ask with whom?”

“His name is Bill Morland. He works at Parkside.”

“Oh.” John didn’t know what else to say. He knew Bill Morland. He was the assistant administrator of Parkside. He was good-looking, divorced and, quite honestly, John couldn’t stand the man.

They jogged along in silence for almost a mile.

Finally Julia turned to him. “Why so quiet?”

“No reason.”

She started in on him like a house afire. “John, you and I are just friends, remember? I would like to get married again someday. I’m finding that a little difficult to work toward when I haven’t had one date since Martin died.” Her tone had turned angry and sarcastic.

“Well, you could do a lot better than Bill Morland.” His anger matched hers.

“Oh, give me a break! Who did you have in mind, Your Majesty?”

John threw up his hands. “Hey, it’s none of my business. You go out with whoever you like.” He pulled ahead of her then and sprinted back to his car.

When he reached the car he turned to see Julia gaping after him. He reached in through the open window of his car and pulled out a towel. He stood there swabbing the sweat from his face and neck, trying to cool off in more ways than one. Unsuccessful, he threw the towel to the floor of the car. He got in, revved the engine and screeched out of the parking lot. He knew he was acting like an immature, impetuous teenager, but he felt powerless to stop himself.

At home he got into the shower and let the force of the hot water soothe his anger. He was being ridiculous. He had no claim to Julia whatsoever. His little tantrum in the park had betrayed his true feelings for her, both to himself and to Julia. He owed her an apology.

He tried to call her all evening long, but there was no answer. At eleven o’clock he finally gave up and went to bed. But sleep eluded him and he lay awake wrestling with his conscience. When the sun streamed through his window hours later, he knew only two things: He did not want to lose Julia. And he could not have her.

Two weeks passed and Julia didn’t show up at the park. John went jogging every evening, hoping against hope she would be there, but deeply disappointed when she wasn’t.

One night almost three weeks after their fight, he got out of his car, and broke into a run as usual.

She materialized at his side.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said as casually as he could muster, trying not to give away the wild pounding of his heart.

“Hi.”

“Julia, I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Forget it. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. Let’s just forget it and pick up where we left off.”

“Umm…where we left off? I believe you called me ‘Your Majesty,’ and I peeled out of the parking lot like a spoiled brat.”

She laughed. “Well, then let’s start from the day before that.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, and he fought the fierce temptation to pull her into a grateful embrace. His relief at their reconciliation was boundless. A nagging knowledge ate at him: they would eventually have to deal with this again. But he pushed the thought away determined to take each day as it came. No use trying to look too far into the future.

Christmas went by more easily than it had in four years. For the first time since Ellen had moved to Parkside, John didn’t bring her home for the holiday. She had become calmer in the past few months, partly due to a new medication her doctor had prescribed. But now, any change in her routine seemed to cause her anxiety. The doctor recommended they bring Christmas to her rather than taking her home.

It was a nice Christmas, both at Parkside and back at the house on Oaklawn. The kids were all home, and Ellen’s parents were there, of course. They had visited Ellen in the afternoon, taking the gifts there to be opened, but the real celebration took place at the house. It was almost as though they were weaning themselves from Ellen. Her absence wasn’t felt quite so keenly now that everyone was accustomed to her being at Parkside and John being alone in the big house.

With Christmas over, the day of Brant and Cynthia’s wedding was fast approaching. John was grateful for all the preparation involved in getting this son of his married. It took his mind off the worries about Ellen—and off his guilt over Julia.

He had no idea that the groom’s parents had so many responsibilities. There were tuxedos to order, a rehearsal dinner to plan, gifts to buy. It was a bittersweet time. John remembered so clearly the joy he and Ellen had felt as they planned Jana’s wedding. He longed for the old Ellen in a way he hadn’t in many months—both for sharing the happiness of this occasion and for the practical help she would have been. He knew exactly nothing about wedding etiquette.

Jana was very helpful when she could find the time. If he asked for it, Julia offered wedding advice, too. But of course, her help had to be given from afar.

John and Julia had agreed it would be best not to mention their friendship to the children. Julia’s boys—because their allegiance to their father was still so fresh—might not understand John’s place in Julia’s life. John’s kids lived far enough away that there was no need to discuss it with them and risk a misunderstanding.

John felt somewhat troubled that he and Julia had this secret to keep. It seemed to degrade their friendship. But they had talked about it at length and both felt it was best this way. So they continued week after week, meeting in the park, playing therapist to each other and growing closer day by day.

One evening as they jogged in the park, they came face-to-face with Sandra Brenner. John was embarrassed. Stuttering and stammering, he introduced the two women, deftly skirting any mention of his relationship with Julia.

Sandra shook Julia’s hand warmly, and gave John a knowing smile before she jogged away.

That night when John was getting ready for bed, the phone rang.

“John, hi. It’s Sandra.”

He steeled himself. “Hi, Sandra.”

“Hey, I just want to put your mind at ease. I know you were uncomfortable introducing me to your girlfriend. I just want you to know that I understand. And I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves to have some happiness, it’s you.”

“No…Sandra, you misunderstood.” He was angry at her assumption. “Julia is a good friend, nothing more.”

A long pause. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, don’t go jumping to conclusions. That’s not fair, Sandra.”

“I’ll take your word for it. But I think Ellen would understand if—what’s her name? Julia?—if she were more than a friend. I don’t think Ellen or anyone else would judge you if you found someone else. Ellen is the same as dead, John. I admire your devotion to her, but don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Ellen is very much alive, Sandra. If you’d go visit her once in a while you might know that.”

“I—I’m sorry, John.” She sounded truly repentant. “I shouldn’t have said that. But you know what I mean. She’s not going to get any better. And, John, it’s not as though you’re going to hurt her. She won’t know. I’ve visited her recently enough to know that.”

“Well, thank you for your opinion—I think. But please don’t start any rumors, Sandra. I assure you, Julia and I are friends—nothing more.”

He slammed down the phone. It sounded so cheap to hear Julia called his “girlfriend.” Could he trust Sandra? He’d told her the truth, and he would feel awful if rumors to the contrary started going around town.

But Sandra had planted a seed in his mind.
Would
anyone judge him? Could he be justified if this friendship were more? He brushed the thoughts aside, but the seed germinated somewhere in the back of his mind.