Fatherless: A Novel (31 page)

“Am I
glad to see you!” Maria appeared distraught. “I’ve been on pins and needles. How’d it go?”

“I got what I needed,” Julia replied flatly, wondering why the sudden, energetic interest in her work. “More than I wanted,
actually.”

“More than you wanted? Why, what’d he say? He won’t speak to me at all.”

Julia remembered her broken promise to call Jared from the airport.

“Oh, Sis.” She sighed while placing her bag on the kitchen floor. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot to call Jared. I had
to rush right from the Tolbert interview to the airport and start writing up the—” She halted her explanation. Maria wouldn’t
care about deadlines or journalistic dilemmas. She cared about ending her son’s silent treatment. “I’ll go in and speak to
him right after—”

“Please, Julia,” Maria pleaded. “I can’t take this another minute.”

It was then that she noticed Maria’s shoes glimmering beneath her ankle-length robe. “Don’t tell me you have a date tonight.”

Maria lowered her head, then slowly unwrapped the robe to reveal yet another new, alluring outfit. She flashed a self-conscious
grin.

“Fin?”

“I need to break up properly,” Maria explained. “I couldn’t just cut him off over the phone. That would be tacky!”

“What’s tacky,” Julia reacted, “is expecting your son to forgive and forget on cue just so you can have one last date with
his teacher without feeling guilty. If it is one last date.”

“I told you. I’m ending it with Fin.” A long pause. “But I want to do it in a way that’ll keep our options open.”

Julia pursed her lips as she reached for her travel bag.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t have time for this, Maria. Deal with Jared yourself for once. He’s your son, not mine!”

Julia ignored her sister’s pleading all the way to the bedroom, where she closed herself in to tackle her own, more pressing
crisis. If Paul Daugherty didn’t receive a feature-length story before ten o’clock she could kiss any future with RAP Syndicate
goodbye. She looked at the clock. Two hours to go, and she still hadn’t decided which draft to finalize and send.

Both versions of her feature contained select characterizations and pictures from the interview with Dr. Richert painting
him as typical of a threateningly influential subculture of people who rejected common sense and, given the chance, would
require others to do likewise. The cover photo alone, Dr. Richert standing before a wall full of breeder babies, would fan
the flame of disdain against whatever his sort wanted. But she also quoted from highly respected fiscal conservatives like
Nicole Florea and Trisha Sayers. They describe the economic burden breeders added to society when they skipped genetic prescreening
at the start of life and discouraged transitions at the end.

Both versions of the story suggested the philosophy behind the Bright Spots proposal came from an extreme, religiously motivated
bias and that it advanced environmentally irresponsible policies in the name of fiscal austerity. She even managed to protect
her journalistic integrity by including extensive quotations from the author of the Bright Spots proposal, rising political
star and key member of Franklin’s team Congressman Kevin Tolbert.

Her dilemma, still unsettled, was whether to include the photos and information Paul had sent earlier in the day. If she used
them to imply Tolbert lacked credibility with his own supporters due to recent accusations of infidelity, millions of readers,
not to mention the new owners of RAP, would admire her “take-no-prisoners” approach. It would propel her career, placing her
squarely back among the journalistic elite.

But it would also destroy Angie’s happy home.

Julia decided to give herself the essential luxury of a post-flight shower, settling her nerves and clearing her mind for
the task ahead. She heard and ignored three separate knocks on the door, the first while combing through her wet hair, another
while tying the sash of her most comfortable robe, and a third while booting up her computer.

“Go away, Maria. I don’t have time—”

“It’s me, Aunt Julia,” Jared said through the closed door. “Mom left. Can I come in?”

Julia looked at the beckoning glow of her computer screen. She needed more than a shower to resolve her daunting sense of
urgency. She needed two solid hours at the keyboard.

Easing the door open she saw the smudge of recently wiped tears on Jared’s cheeks. She raised her hand gently to his face.
“Rough day?”

“I hate her!” He entered the room.

“You don’t hate your mother, Jared.”

He walked silently toward the bed and settled himself on the edge.

“Why couldn’t you have been my mom?”

The question stunned Julia. She felt at once flattered and dismayed.

“Your mother is a beautiful person.”

He sniffed back remnants of an earlier cry. “Exactly. That’s the problem.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she continued. “I mean your mother has a sweet spirit. She has a spark for life that makes other
people like to be around her. I know I do.”

A brief pause.

“I think you do, too.”

Jared’s eyes appeared to moisten. He closed them tightly to hold back tears.

“She’s a beautiful person, but she’s not a perfect person.” Julia looked toward her computer to protect Jared’s teetering
male ego. “That same spark for life comes with a penchant for mischief.”

“I’ll say!” Jared added crossly. “And embarrassment.”

Julia hesitated. How much to say? Was Jared old enough to know? Would it help or hurt his relationship with Maria?

“Listen, Jared,” she began timidly. “How much has your mom told you about her childhood? Our childhood?”

A shrug.

“I’m not sure how much I should say. Or if you even want to know.”

He gave a nod, his curiosity piqued.

“How old are you now?”

Jared rolled his eyes and grinned. “Fourteen months till I’m a teenager.”

Julia glanced at the clock. Ninety minutes to deadline.
Another time perhaps
?
No
.

“Well, Mr. Almost Teenager, I could use a cup of hot chocolate. You?”

He nodded eagerly.

“You fix the drinks while I get dressed. Then we’ll chat.”

She took advantage of the ten minutes during which Jared boiled and stirred to rescan the second version of her story. The
alleged dirt on Kevin Tolbert made her stomach heavy. Julia willed herself to push Angie’s face out of her mind.

Detach
, she ordered herself.
Review both versions through the eyes of your readers. Not Angie. Not Paul. Not the new RAP owners. Only your readers
!

“Hot chocolate’s ready,” Jared announced while handing Julia her favorite mug. Steam overpowered a mini-mountain of whipped
cream, turning it into a sinking island of foam. Reclaiming his spot on the edge of the bed, he faced his aunt with open ears.

“I don’t have long,” Julia began, “but I think you need to know something that your mom will probably never tell you. Something
that might help you understand. Maybe even forgive.”

She started with the bits Jared already knew. That his grandfather had left them before Maria knew her dad. That his grandmother
was a strong, independent woman who never remarried. Then she eased into the important part.

“After our daddy left us your grandmother spent time with a series of boyfriends.”

“Like mom does?”

“Yes. But your grandma didn’t have a sister living with her. She made mistakes.”

What kind of mistakes
? his eyes asked.

“Two of her boyfriends moved in with her. With us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The first stayed for almost three years. He was pretty nice.” She hesitated before continuing. “The second only stayed
for a few weeks.”

Was he old enough to hear the rest? Of course he was. Eleven years old is the same age Julia had been when she discovered
what was happening.

“The second man did some bad things.”

Too vague.

“He hurt your mom.”

Jared stopped mid-sip, a confused fury rising in his eyes. “Hurt her how?”

Another delay.
What to say
?

“Hurt her in ways that can make a girl feel…” She couldn’t say the rest.

“Angry?” he inserted.

She thought for a moment. “Yes, angry. And insecure. And, well, stained.”

He didn’t understand.

“Dirty. It made your mom feel dirty.”

Realization overtook curiosity. Jared’s face assumed a courageous air, young valor eager to punish an unknown but evil adversary.

“Did he hurt you too?”

Julia wanted to say no, to explain that she was the one who put a stop to the abuse by threatening to call the police.

“He tried,” she confessed. “He exposed himself to me one night while I was getting out of the shower. It frightened me. Made
me queasy. But that was minor compared to what happened to your mom.”

Julia finished her drink in silence as Jared absorbed a revelation no son should have to receive about an abuse no girl should
have to endure.

“You OK?” she finally asked.

A single nod.

“I’ve always loved your mom, Jared. I’m just sorry I didn’t do a better job protecting her.”

“It wasn’t your job to protect her.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I still wish I had.”

“It was Grandma’s job.”

Julia quietly agreed.

“No. I’m wrong. It was Grandpa’s job.”

Julia looked in Jared’s face. It carried the indignation of a fearless soldier encountering a blatant coward.

“He wasn’t around,” Julia explained. “He couldn’t protect her.”

Jared looked away, then back at Julia. “He should have been there. Daddies are supposed to protect their children.”

She nodded to affirm the noble instinct.

“I hate him!”

“You never met him.”

“I know. But I still hate him.”

The conversation ended. Jared rose from the bed and collected Julia’s half-empty mug before walking toward the kitchen. Julia
sat reflectively, hoping she had done the right thing.

“Aunt Julia,” Jared said, looking back from the door. He dithered for a moment. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“If that man hurt Mom, you know, made her feel dirty, then why does she…” The right words didn’t come.

Julia understood without them.

“I don’t know, Jared. I don’t know.”

He exhaled through his nose, then inhaled with resolution. “I think I’ll wait up, you know, until she gets home.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Julia turned back toward her computer screen. She had time enough to reread each draft before making a final decision. The
first version felt solid despite lacking the kind of scandal appeal Paul would prefer. The second would most certainly damage
the Bright Spots proposal. But it also risked making her appear sleazy, like journalists who used tabloid-style dirt to sell
papers rather than confirmed facts to influence minds.

Julia made her decision. Her finger lingered momentarily on the
SEND
icon. Another glance at the clock. No time for additional edits.

She tapped, releasing her final version of
The Breeders
.

A version absent the dirt on Kevin Tolbert.

The alarm
went off at six thirty in the morning. Reaching toward the sound, Julia remembered the day. She had forgotten to change the
clock to a more appropriate weekend setting, perhaps eight or nine a.m. As she rolled back onto her welcoming pillow she felt
oddly rested, even refreshed. Then it hit her.

No dream!

For the first morning in months she could not recall any troubling images or night panics. It was as if a chronic toothache
had suddenly been cured.

She spent several minutes mentally piecing together the clues.

For about eight months the nightmares had become progressively more intense and frequent. She had tried ignoring them as subconscious
manifestations of insecurity, nocturnal echoes of her flailing career. Had completing a major news story finally released
her? Finally killed the internal demon?

Dr. Moreland had suggested the dreams were somehow tied to her absent father. She had recommended Julia put a face on the
man she couldn’t reach. Had the conversation with Jared pricked a hidden boil? Daddies
are
supposed to protect their daughters. Why hadn’t hers?

Or was Troy Simmons her angel? For the first time in her life a man seemed genuinely smitten
with
her rather than just aroused
by
her. Did his attention have anything to do with a night of unbroken rest? Might it bring more?

Whatever the reasons, Julia accepted the repose gratefully as she buried herself under the warmth of her blankets.

An hour later she awoke to the distant sounds of hissing and crackling. Then she inhaled the faint aroma of bacon summoning
her to the kitchen.

“Morning, Aunt Julia!” Jared beamed at her from his perch beside the stove, where he was fulfilling his burnt-food-prevention
mission.

“Good morning, Jared. What time did you go to bed?”

“About midnight,” he replied. “Mom got home around eleven. We talked for a while.”

“I’m glad.” Julia placed her slumbering tablet in front of her usual seat. “Where is she now?”

“Getting juice from the store. Should be back any minute.”

“Need help?” she offered.

“No thanks. Almost done.”

“I’m back,” Maria’s voice sang from the opening front door. “I didn’t know if you wanted grapefruit or orange juice so I got
both.” She noticed Julia. “Oh, good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning, Sis,” Julia replied. “You two seem to be doing better.”

Maria kissed her sister’s cheek. “Yes we are.” She leaned close to whisper in Julia’s ear. “I don’t know what you said to
him, but I appreciate it. You’re the best.”

Julia tilted her head toward Maria’s to accept the sentiment.

“Let’s eat,” Jared announced.

“Looks fantastic!” Maria took her seat beside Jared, across from Julia.

A sip of juice and two bites of scrambled eggs later, Julia chose to indulge her curiosity.

“So, how was the date?”

Maria scowled. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Jared forced back a smile.

“Talk about what?”

“I said I don’t want to…” Maria paused, glowering at her son. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He nodded puckishly.

“Oh, why not?” she relented. “It’s over with Fin.”

Julia looked toward an obviously pleased Jared, then back at Maria.

“So you did end it?”

Silence.

“With or without leaving options open?”

Maria’s eyes narrowed. “No options.”

Julia and Jared each took another bite while waiting for more.

“He dumped me, OK?” Maria huffed. “He said he didn’t think it was a good idea to keep seeing one another.”

“Because of Jared?” Julia asked, pleased with the finality.

“No,” Maria confessed. “Not because of Jared. Because of Beth.”

“Who’s Beth?”

“Ms. Cline,” Jared interjected. “A new sub teacher. Really pretty.”

Maria clucked while rolling her eyes, the sting of rejection apparently still tender.

“I’m sorry, Sis,” Julia consoled while containing a grin. “But I’m glad it’s over.”

“Me too!” Jared added enthusiastically.

Maria’s pout lifted. “Me too. I guess.”

Julia accepted Jared’s offer for seconds and thirds on perfectly turned bacon strips. When finished, she offered to clear
the table and wash the dishes.

“I’ve got it,” Maria insisted. “You just relax.”

Julia liked the suggestion, grabbing her still-sleeping tablet and moving toward the sofa in the adjoining room.

Julia opened and reread the story she had forwarded to Paul ten hours earlier, zeroing in on the portion containing word-for-word
quotations from Kevin Tolbert. It felt right including the comments even though she knew Paul would balk. The story hit the
mark, effectively marginalizing critics of the Youth Initiative by associating them with extreme aspects of Breederville.
And those elements did exist. Readers needed to know about them. Needed to be wary.

She even hoped her decision would salvage the possibility of continued friendship with Angie—or at least protect her and the
kids from scandal.

As she scanned the final paragraph she thought of Troy. He would hate the story, would probably become angry over the potential
harm it would cause to the Bright Spots proposal, not to mention his friend’s political prospects. But it was far less damaging
than it could have been. It was a version he might even be able to forgive.

“I nearly forgot to tell you,” Maria’s voice cut through. “Your phone started beeping with a new message alert last night
around midnight.”

Julia remembered placing her phone on the charging pad to let it recover from trip exhaustion.

“You might want to check it.” Maria handed the phone to her sister. “It could be that handsome friend of Kevin’s you told
me about.”

She tapped the screen to find a series of voice messages from a clearly troubled Paul Daugherty.

Weekend Journal
? She looked at the time. Nearly nine o’clock!

Tweaked version
? Millions of readers had already read the story while sipping their first cup of coffee. A version of the story she had never
seen!

She grabbed her tablet to open the journal. There it was, the cover story title and byline plastered over an enormous image
of baby pictures hanging on a wall.

“With Monica Garcia!” she shouted. “He didn’t!”