Gaining Visibility (26 page)

“I'm not twelve anymore, Vitale.” She tapped her chest. “I decide who goes with me to the doctor, and it's none of your concern. I needed a woman, and Julietta was the perfect companion. She knew exactly what to say to make me feel better.”

“But if the outcome had been different, you would have wished for family.”

“The outcome wasn't different.” She glared hard at him, her mouth opening and closing. It opened again and she sucked in a deep breath. When she blew it out, her eyes softened. “I'm not Luciana. None of us are, and neither is Julietta. But if you continue this quest to try to save everyone because you couldn't save Luciana, you're going to drive yourself crazy. And you're going to push Julietta away for good.”

“That's not what I'm doing.”

He thrust his finger toward her face and she grabbed it and held on. “It's exactly what you're doing. It's fine to take care of the people you love when they need it, but a strong woman doesn't want to be treated like one of your fragile pieces of art. She wants you to recognize that strength and admire that about her. Don't make her feel like you want some kind of dependent weakling—unless that
is
who you want. But I don't think it is, and I know you well.”

“I want Julietta,” he answered simply. But the small piece he'd carved for her and tucked away in the large package . . . had it been the wrong thing to do? Would she think he saw her as weak? God, this was all so frustrating! He was a master at body language and reading people's faces. E-mails—and the lack of them—gave him no clue. He needed to
see
her.

One thing he knew for certain, though—Julietta's words echoed in his brain. “And she does not need to be fixed.”

Adrianna rolled her eyes and laughed. “Your favorite new word. But, no, you're right. She does not need to be fixed. And neither do you.” She put her arms around his waist and squeezed. “Even with all your faults—your quick temper, your stubbornness, your conceit.” She swatted his rear. “You're still the most perfect brother a girl could be blessed with and tonight, you will come to our house for dinner. You need to be with family also during this celebration.”

He cupped his hand behind Adrianna's head and gave her a kiss on the forehead, thankful to have his family to turn to.

Perhaps someday in the not-too-distant future, this forced separation would be over, and he would have the opportunity to find out if his sister's perception of Julietta was accurate. There was still so much about the woman that he wanted to learn.

That day could not come soon enough.

* * *

The conversation with Camille kept Julia preoccupied and jittery, making the day drag on and on. Having Camille as a partner had worked out so perfectly. Thoughts of losing her and what it would mean to the business made Julia's head throb. She tried to busy herself with projects that kept her out of the office, but each time she returned, Camille loomed large in her sight along with Hettie in her thoughts, reminders of voids or soon-to-be voids in her life.

By 5:00, all she wanted was to go home, which made her feel guilty, and added to her mental self-flagellation. She tried to think of some jokes she could tell Hettie to cover up the fact she really didn't want to be at the hospital.

She stopped in the hospital gift shop and picked up a
Cosmo
. If all else failed, she would read her mother-in-law a sexy story. That had been one of Hettie's favorite pastimes in the nursing home.

Frank's face lit up when she entered the room. “Hey. How was your day?” He closed the book he'd been reading.

“Tiring.” She left it at that.

Hettie was propped on her side with the aid of some bolster pillows. The bedsores on the back of her left arm looked some improved, but the sight of them still made Julia wince.

“Well, I'll have dinner ready when you get home.” Frank leaned over the bed and gave Hettie a good-bye peck. “See you at eight, Mom.”

Julia plopped into the chair he'd vacated by the bed, a little disconcerted at the routine they'd settled into.

Frank had breakfast ready each morning when she got out of bed. They both went to the hospital for the 8:00 visit; then she went on to work while he went home and took care of things around the house. She ate her brownbag lunch at the hospital from 12:00 to 1:00; Frank stayed from 1:00 to 2:00. He came back from 4:00 to 5:00; she came after work, staying from 5:00 to 6:00. Dinner was usually waiting for her when she got home. They ate and then returned to the hospital together for the last visitation.

The schedule left her exhausted and moody—like perpetual PMS.

She sat for a while in the quiet, listening to Hettie's breathing, counting the number of breaths in one minute. Fewer than yesterday. The muscles in the back of her neck tightened at the implication. She started talking about everything that came to mind, anything to keep her from thinking about the fact that Hettie was going to be gone soon. She was too weary to shoulder that right now, too.

She talked in a stream, sharing about Camille's pregnancy, confident the secret would never leave that room. She described the sculpture that had arrived in vivid detail, hoping Hettie was picturing it in her mind. She vented some frustration by turning the subject to Frank and the living arrangement they had going on, confessing that it probably should be bothering her more than it did.

She didn't take the time to analyze why it was working—only that it was, for the time being.

“You've picked a helluva time to leave me,” she whispered to Hettie when the chime rang the end to the visiting hour.

The sound was just a rattle from Hettie's lungs, but to Julia, it sounded like a chuckle.

* * *

True to his word, Frank had dinner on the table when she got home. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, fried okra, and Blackhawk Bakery rolls.

Her favorites.

She picked around at her food, although it was all delicious. She could tell Frank was disappointed she didn't show more enthusiasm, but she refused to put on an act for his benefit.

He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “You seem really tired tonight.”

“Yeah, it's been a long day.” She took a sip. The dry red brought back memories of evenings with Vitale. She closed her eyes and let the memory infuse her as she swallowed.

When she opened her eyes, Frank was staring at her, an open look of desire on his face. She cut her eyes away quickly, not wanting to see that look.

“Jules.” He leaned toward her, his voice was soft, his tone husky.

She knew that tone well.
So help me, if he makes one seductive move, I'll throw his ass out of here tonight.
She brought her eyes back up to meet his, letting them flash her warning.

He leaned back in his chair, his face tightened with strain. “Um, why don't you stay home tonight?”

She would've bet money that was not what he'd been prepared to say, but at least he'd taken her warning seriously.

“You've been hitting it pretty hard. You need some time to relax. Mom would, um, will, understand.”

That was perceptive of him. She did need some time at home to just do nothing. It seemed like forever since she'd done nothing.

“I think you're right,” she finally agreed. “I'm worn out, and I think I'll stay home tonight.”

Frank nodded, followed by an awkward moment of silence that hung like a curtain in the air. “Hey, Earl Stone called today.” The look on his face showed his relief that he'd thought of a conversation starter.

Earl was an old friend from high school, now a Paducah policeman. “How's he doing?” She frowned, trying to remember how long it had been since she'd done something with the Stones. “I need to give them a call. He and Martha were so kind to me right after our divorce. They invited me to their house and out to do things with them.”

Frank shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“He'd heard about Mom.” Frank didn't respond to her comment. “Wanted to see how she was. We got to talking about the time he and Sully Winters and I got arrested for cutting cane on Henry Wortham's land to make fishing poles.”

Frank's guffaw jolted a laugh out of Julia. It was unexpected, but it felt good to have a break from the intensity for a while.

He went on, telling the story, which she knew by heart. She let him tell it, though, and it led to another, which led to another.

They reminisced about high school high jinks through the rest of supper, while they cleaned up the kitchen, and up until the time Frank left to return to the hospital.

The light conversation took the edge off—not completely, but some. She changed into her swimsuit, poured herself another glass of wine, and relaxed in the hot tub on the back deck for a while.

The combination of the wine and the pounding hot jets of water soon relieved the tension in her back and shoulders. She got out and went upstairs to her computer with the intention of sending a quick e-mail to Vitale to let him know the sculpture had arrived safely.

She started to type.

A ping indicated a new e-mail had come in. She brought up her in-box. A message from Vitale had just arrived! He was online.

She hit Show and opened his message.

Not surprised by the information, she felt the smug smile break across her face. The interior decorating forum she frequented had been abuzz about Villa de Luca ever since she raved about the new catalog she'd “discovered” online.

She didn't take the time to read the rest but hurried to reply so she could catch him before he got off.

It was in the early hours of the morning in Italy.

Ping.
A reply from him.

Oh! Her fingers flew to type another reply.

Send and wait. While she waited, she went back to the original message.

The
ping
had her scrambling to open the new message.

That brought a chuckle. If Angelina was asking how she was, it was probably with the secret hope that she'd been hit by a train.

Another
ping.

Her heart stuttered at his words. He couldn't honestly still be expecting her to return when this was over, so why continue with the cajoling? Her fingers hovered over the keys, waiting for her brain to send the command to type what she was thinking. But sitting there, within the fantasy again, felt so good after such a trying day.

A sharp rap at her door startled her. “Jules?”

“It's open,” she called.

The grim look on Frank's face shouted the news before his voice caught up. “The doctor says we need to call Melissa. Tonight. Now.”

“Oh.” The wind rushed out of her on that one word. The screen blurred to the point she couldn't see what she was typing.

She hit send and didn't wait for a reply.

C
HAPTER
24

E
ach time he awoke during the remainder of the night, Vitale's thoughts sprang to Julietta, wondering what she was going through at that moment. Had Hettie left them during the hours since their last e-mail? Most of the time, a shadow of sadness would descend on him. Not a
true
sadness because he didn't know Hettie personally, so he experienced no acute sense of loss. But a sadness filtered through his Julietta's pain.

At other times, a different emotion would absorb his rest and leave him punching the pillow that flattened under the weight of his head, which constantly flipped from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position. One that would relax him back to sleep and take away the image of his Julietta seeking consolation in the arms of another man.

Perhaps her ex-husband who must be there with her.
Frank has just told me,
she wrote.

Vitale did not believe any attraction for Frank remained within her. But it did not take attraction to seek solace in someone's arms—or bed—when you were grieving.

He knew that firsthand.

He was glad, at last, to greet the dawn with purpose, even if that purpose was to check for the message he hoped Julietta had not had to post.

Nothing from her, and for a moment he was relieved, but then he thought of the anguish she must be going through, and the early sun cast the shadow upon him once more.

Which was worse—having the loved one snatched away by a galloping tide that allowed no time for good-bye, or watching them drift away slowly on a tide that stole them inch by inch?

He prepared some breakfast and took it out to the patio to enjoy in the cool of the morning. A breeze shimmied through the leaves of the small tree nearest him. The sound always reminded him of an intimate whisper, and he always attributed it to Luciana speaking to him now in the only way she could.

“Yes, my love, I hear you.” He sipped his
caffe latte.
“I'm glad you have come to visit this morning. I have a favor to ask.” The leaves stirred in response. “The woman I spoke with you about—Julietta. Someone she loves will be making her way to your home very soon. Would you go to meet her when she arrives? I know how frightening it must be—taking that first step into a world unknown, and I cannot but think your warm smile would help vanquish her fear. Her name is Hettie Berkwith.” He said the strange name slowly. It didn't roll off the tongue easily. “And . . .” He paused, but there was no need for pretense. Luciana had always seen through him, like Julietta. “Perhaps you could put in a good word for me with her? Her opinion matters a great deal to Julietta.”

A warm breeze touched his cheek in reply.

Satisfied, he finished his
caffe latte
in silence.

With a more cheerful heart than the one he woke up with, he took his dishes back to the kitchen and made one more stop at the computer to check his e-mail.

Still no word from Julietta.

On his way to the studio, a burst of stronger wind whipped about him. He stopped and closed his eye until it passed, wondering if perhaps it was the rush of a spirit to greet a new friend.

* * *

“I can't get over how good she looks.” Melissa repeated the words she'd murmured several times since she'd arrived at the hospital. “I keep expecting her to open her eyes and ask me when I'm going to quit sticking my finger in that socket.”

Julia smiled at the reference to the ongoing feud between Melissa and her grandmother concerning Melissa's short, spiky hairstyle.

“From what I'm hearing about the winters in Alaska, Gram”—Melissa pulled Hettie's hand to rest against her cheek—“I may want to let it grow back out.”

“Or move to Hawaii,” Frank quipped. His arm tightened around Melissa's shoulder and he kissed her temple.

The bone structure of the two faces side by side was strikingly similar, and regardless of Hettie's opinion, Julia thought the blond fringe encircling Melissa's face gave her a soft, angelic appearance. Dark brows and lashes emphasized the translucent green irises. As she had so often before, she marveled she and Frank had produced such a beautiful child who had grown into such a breathtaking young woman.

That their daughter made it back to Paducah in time to say good-bye to her grandmother put Julia in a mood of peaceful gratitude and made her wonder if Hettie had enough of a foothold in heaven already to be pulling some strings. For once, the difference in time zones had worked in their favor. Melissa had gotten on a flight from Anchorage to LA where she spent the night. A morning flight from Los Angeles to Nashville had meshed seamlessly with a commuter flight from Nashville to Paducah, and there the four of them were, together at last.

The hospital staff had suspended the visitation hours for them, so they were at liberty to come and go from Hettie's room as need be.

As alarming as it should've been, even the labored rattle from Hettie's lungs rang as a welcomed relief, proof that life still hovered, however precariously.

Melissa's gaze drifted down the length of the figure in the bed. The concerned crease between her eyebrows softened. “She doesn't seem to be in any pain.”

“No,” Julia agreed. “I don't think she's hurting. Her breathing's too peaceful. I think she's drifting into a deep sleep.”

Like it had done all afternoon, the conversation shifted back and forth from Hettie to catching up on tidbits in their lives. “I think she'd be pleased you're moving back to Paducah, Dad, and back into the house.”

“Yeah, it feels right to me, too,” Frank said. “I think whoever said ‘You can't go home again' was wrong. Home feels pretty good.”

Melissa smiled wryly and shook her head as her eyes darted from Frank to Julia and back. “I was blown away when you told me you were staying with Mom at our house. I would've bet my last three paychecks that would never happen.”

“Let that be a lesson to you, young lady.” Frank wagged his finger in her face. “Never bet against the home team.”

Melissa arched an eyebrow. “Especially when
you're
pitching, huh?”

Frank gave a quick nod. “You know it.”

Melissa turned to her mom, obviously expecting a remark, and Julia bit back a retort about it being Frank's last inning. No use breaking the peace for a cheap shot. But it wouldn't be right to give Melissa any hopes their broken family was mended either. “He can pitch it till he's blue in the face,” she said, sending the banter in a different direction. “I'll just keep shoveling it out.”

Melissa laughed and made a mark in the air with her finger. “Score one for Mom.”

“Actually”—Julia nodded toward the sleeping figure in the bed—“I'll give that point to Hettie. She would've come out with it first.”

“Yeah, but you've been around her so long you've picked up a lot of her sassiness, Mom. Even more than the last time I was home.” Melissa eyed Julia thoughtfully. “I mean, look at your hair. When did you change it?”

The comment took Julia by surprise. She pulled the top strands through her fingers and shook her head so it fell back into place. “I woke up one morning in Italy with this wild idea I wanted a change.”

She had to force the memory of the specific morning and the true impetus for the change from her mind before her facial expression gave her away. “A young woman in Lerici did it while I was there, and Darlene's been able to copy the cut and match the color.”

“Well, you look beautiful. Doesn't she, Dad?” Melissa nudged Frank for an answer.

“Yeah, she looks fantastic.”

Melissa laid Hettie's hand gently on the bed and moved restlessly over to the window. “I can see the river from up here.” Her wistful tone was punctuated with a sigh. “Besides y'all and my friends, that's one of the things I miss most about this place. I miss sitting at the river on summer nights and picnics at Kentucky Lake. I would never have admitted it to Grandpa, but I even miss that old bass boat he used to take me fishing in.”

“All part of growing up, Issy.” Frank used the nickname he'd pinned on the child at birth. “Figuring out the things most important to us.”

Julia caught the brief, sidelong glance he cast her way.

Melissa spun from the window, eyes wide with expression darting around the room. “Do you think Grandpa's here? Waiting for her?”

“I hope so.” Frank's eyes shifted from his mother's face again to settle on Julia's. “They had a lot of happy years together. I'm sure he's anxious to be with her again.”

Julia picked up on the subtle message, though she tried to ignore it. She hoped Melissa did the same. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes from misting up as a memory washed over her. “The night he died, she told him to walk slow and she'd catch up to him soon.”

Melissa moved back to the bed, and they stood quietly for a long moment, each lost in personal reminiscence.

Recognition broke slowly as Julia realized she was listening for a sound that wasn't forthcoming.

And never would be again.

Her eyes moved slowly up to meet Frank's . . . Melissa's . . . back to Frank's.

A sharp breath shuddered his chest, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as if in slow motion.

“I think she just caught up,” he said.