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Julie Ann followed Gray into the beach house. He had refused to let her carry anything, insisting that she go right upstairs and lie down. She reclined on the sofa while he unpacked groceries and clothes, sitting up only when he set a glass of milk on the table in front of her.
“There’s more where that came from,” he told her as she finished the last sip.
“You mean you brought a cow with us?”
He laughed. “How about something to eat?”
“I don’t think so.” She lay back down again.
“You know, if you can make jokes, you can also smile.” Gray sat on the edge of the sofa, facing her. He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.
She wondered how long it had been since she’d had anything to smile about. Even though life had always been a serious proposition, somehow she had managed to look on the bright side. If there was no bright side, she had been able to look forward to a time when things would be better. In the last months there had been no bright side and no real hope for the future. The very best she could expect would be a clean escape from Granger Junction with her baby. That thought, as sad as it was, was the only thing that had kept her going.
But it couldn’t make her smile.
Gray continued to stroke her hair. “I know it’s been rough, sweetheart, but it’s been rough for me, too.”
If he knew how rough life had been for her, then he was as sadistic as his father for making her endure it. Julie Ann didn’t want to believe that Gray knew what she’d endured, but it was hard to believe otherwise. He was the son of the man who had tormented her. He had grown up in that house. How could he not know what his father was capable of?
She tested him. “If you know how rough it’s been, Gray, then you can’t really want me to continue living with your parents.”
“This isn’t the best time to talk about that. Let’s take it easy for a few days before we make any plans.”
Julie Ann closed her eyes, trying to shut him out. She felt Gray get up and move away, and she fell asleep soon after. She awoke to find a simple dinner of cheese and fruit on the table in front of her. Gray was nowhere to be seen.
She forced herself to eat a few bites of cheese and a handful of grapes. No matter how she felt, she knew she had a baby to nourish. When Gray didn’t reappear, she walked through the house looking for him. She finally spotted him through the front bedroom window. He was down at the beach, sitting on the sand.
What was he thinking? Was he sorry he’d trapped himself into spending time alone with her? Was he wondering how he was going to broach the subject of a divorce?
She had resisted Judge Sheridan’s prediction as long as she could, but slowly she had come to believe it was true. She wasn’t sure Gray had told his father as much, but she imagined divorce was on Gray’s mind. What better solution for their mutual unhappiness? He had felt a responsibility for her and for her baby, both of which he had fulfilled by marrying her. Once the baby was born, he could pay her off with an adequate divorce settlement and raise the child himself.
But she wasn’t going to let him. She loved the child inside her with a passion she had only, until now, reserved for the child’s father. If she couldn’t have Gray, she would have his baby. She would find a way to give her child everything it needed, but most of all, she would give it all the love that no one else had ever wanted.
In the meantime, she had two more months of pregnancy.
Listlessly she brushed her hair, noting that Gray had carefully unpacked her suitcase and laid her clothes in the dresser drawers. She wondered why he was trying so hard to take care of her now. Was he trying to soften the coming blow?
She changed into a new cotton maternity dress that Gray’s mother had bought for her. Julie Ann suspected the dress was Mrs. Sheridan’s way of saying she was sorry for her husband’s behavior. It hadn’t helped, but it was nice to have something pretty to wear tonight. Perhaps Gray wouldn’t look past the cheerful blue print to the woman beneath.
“Don’t you look nice.” Gray stood when he saw her coming down the beach toward him.
Julie Ann tried to smile. She’d almost forgotten how. “Thanks. Sorry I fell asleep.”
“That’s why we’re here. We both need some rest.” He held out his hand. “Do you feel up to taking a walk?”
She slipped her hand inside his, schooling herself to remember that it meant nothing. “A short one.”
They went to bed early, and Gray held her close as he slept, the way he had on their wedding night. Julie Ann lay stiffly in his arms, not wanting to accept the loving gesture as anything more than a ruse, but unable to make herself move away. He hadn’t made love to her, but he had rubbed her back and caressed her swollen belly, delighting in their child’s answering kicks. If she hadn’t spent months being reminded that Gray had only married her because he’d had to, she might have been convinced he cared about her.
She woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon frying and the sensation that something was squeezing her abdomen. When she opened her eyes in mute pain, Gray was standing in the doorway, a spatula in one hand. “One egg or two, sweetheart?”
The affectionate nickname was too much for her. She had survived his father’s brutality and Gray’s apparent indifference to it, but in spite of the lecture she had given herself the night before, she realized she couldn’t survive Gray’s kindness. If she reached out for it only to have it withdrawn again, she might go mad. She was close to madness now.
“Stop pretending!” She threw the covers off and swung her legs to the side of the bed, wincing as she did so.
“What are you talking about?”
“Stop pretending you care. I know you don’t.”
His temper ignited as quickly as hers had. He threw the spatula to the floor and strode to her side, wrapping long fingers around one arm to haul her out of bed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She faced him, forgetting for a moment about the pain squeezing deep inside her. “I’ll make it through the next months if you just stop trying to act like a loving husband. I know the truth, and I can live with it—as long as you stop trying to make me love you again!”
“Have you gone crazy?”
“Just about!” She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp, but his fingers tightened.
“You want me to treat you badly, Julie Ann? Am I getting this straight?”
“I want you to leave me alone! You’ve done a great job of it the last few months. Just remember what you did then and do more of it!”
His fingers tightened, and then his hand dropped to his side. “Fine,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I’ll leave you alone. See how you like it. If it pleases you, then maybe we can make it permanent.” He turned on one heel and strode from the room. She stood motionless until she heard the sound of his car starting. By the time she got to the living room window, he was gone.
She collapsed on the sofa, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was glad he was gone, but what had she done? What if she was wrong and he really had been trying to make their marriage work? What if she was letting Judge Sheridan poison all the good feelings between them?
She reminded herself that Gray had left her with his parents, refusing to respond to her pleas. And hadn’t his last words been the ones she had been expecting? His desire for a divorce had surfaced at the first opportunity.
The squeezing in her abdomen began again, this time radiating farther, washing pain up her spine and between her legs. She lay down until it subsided. She had become accustomed to pain during the course of her pregnancy, and although this was different, she was too upset to worry. She cried until there were no more tears left, then went to take a shower.
The sky was turning dark by the time she got out. Black clouds rolled in, masking the sun in ominous layers. She tried to ignore them just as she ignored the cramps that seemed to be coming at irregular intervals, but the clouds, like the cramps, refused to go away.
B
y noon she could no longer pretend that neither existed. Rain traced spidery designs across the large windows overlooking Granger Inlet. She began to time the cramps, although the results meant nothing to her. She was still two months from her delivery date, and, assuming that she had plenty of time to find out about the actual birthing process, she had asked few questions of the intimidating doctor who had been caring for her.
A crack of thunder sent her into the back bedroom to close the curtains and lie on the bed, swallowing the bitter taste of fear. The storm and the pain would soon end, Gray would come back, and she would be safe.
The next crack of thunder coincided with a pain that almost ripped her in two. She cried out, so frightened she could hardly breathe. Something was terribly wrong. She could no longer pretend this was a natural part of her pregnancy. This was not just another symptom to report to the doctor at her next visit. The baby was coming, and if she didn’t try to get help, she would be giving birth to it alone. With great difficulty she made it into the living room to stare at the telephone.
She couldn’t think of one person who would care if she lived or died. She was totally alone, with no one to call, and yet she had to call someone. This was one time she could not manage by herself.
She was rummaging for the telephone book to find the number of the closest hospital when lightning struck nearby. The lights went off, then came on again, but she was sobbing by the time she found the number she needed.
There was no dial tone when she picked up the receiver. In the grip of another contraction, she stared at the telephone. Her only link with the world beyond Granger Inlet had been severed.
Between pain and fear she could hardly breathe. She stumbled back into the bedroom, easing herself down to the mattress to stare blindly at the ceiling. The storm was directly overhead. Surely it would pass; surely the telephone would be fixed soon; surely Gray would come back when he realized how frightened she would be.
She dug her fingernails into the mattress as each contraction tore through her. She had stopped timing them, but she knew they were closer together, as close together as the bursts of thunder shaking the house. She felt the warm trickle of fluid down her leg with the next contraction, and when it had finished, she turned on the bedside lamp to see the bloodstain on the sheets beneath her.
Frantically she pushed herself out of bed to try the telephone again. The line was still dead, but from the living room she could see that the storm was at a lull. Dark clouds still hovered over the horizon, but the sky above the beach house was lighter, and the rain was slowing down.
Her choices were few. She could stay in the house and pray for Gray’s return, or she could venture out into the storm, hike the quarter of a mile to the nearest neighbor and beg them for help. In the end her concern for the child she carried outweighed her terror.
She covered herself with a thin plastic poncho and stepped out on the porch. The steps were slick with rain, and she held onto the railing for support as she inched her way down. Halfway to the bottom she was overtaken by another searing contraction. She sat on a step, the rain running down her neck to soak her blouse as she sat and waited for the pain to pass. Whimpering, she stood before it had ended completely and descended the rest of the stairs.
Afraid to go near the water, she chose the longer overland route to the bayside cottage that housed the closest neighbor. She stumbled along the path that wound its way through thickets of oleander and palmetto scrub. The horizon glittered with slashes of lightning, and she covered her face with her hands as thunder shattered the air around her. Once she tripped over a root, falling to one knee in a pool of rainwater. She forced herself upright, forced herself to stumble on, even though she was seized with yet another contraction.
She felt as if she’d been walking for hours when the cottage came in sight. There was no car in front of it, no welcoming light inside. She had known the cottage might not be inhabited yet for the summer, but the proof was beyond bearing. She sobbed as she made her way up the path, banging on the door with all the strength she had left.
But there was no one at home.
The next cottage was equally far away and equally as empty. She collapsed on the front porch, sheltered at last from the rain. The pain was as much a part of her now as her arms or legs. It ruled her completely, leaving no room for thought. Primitive intuition told her that she couldn’t hold off the birth much longer. With trembling hands she slipped off her poncho and blood-soaked pants and folded them beneath her. Lightning illuminated the place where she lay, and the rain that blew in through the thickly planted foliage cooled her fevered skin.
She gave one final gasp as her body began the job of bringing her baby into the world. Then she began to scream.