Page 130 of Cruelest Contract
Among the framed photos that used to hang on the wall in my parents’ old bedroom was one taken only a few weeks before Gabe and I were born. My mother’s bright pink maternity top was hardly able to contain her belly but the smile on her face was radiant. Eight-year-old Matthias stood at her side with a schoolboy grin that showed off his missing front teeth. Angelo, just a toddler, was grumpily nestled in the crook of my father’s arm and my father’s other arm was curled around his wife.
I’ve searched for that photo among the stored stacks of my parents’ possessions. I’ve never found it.
Another fizzy sensation jerks me back to the present. My twins are restless. Each sign from their tiny bodies only increases my longing for their father.
I miss you, Julian.
An uneasy recollection flits through my mind. Three months ago I watched from a window as Julian and his father fought on a summer morning. Though I couldn’t hear their words, I got the impression the subject of their spat had something to do with me. When Cass pulled back a fist and punched his son in the jaw, I gasped in shock. Julian stood and faced his father with blood trickling out of his mouth, his muscles coiled.
In the end, Cass walked away. Julian watched his father go with wrath written into every tense line of his posture. Then he glanced up at the window and saw I was watching. His expression shuttered, turning inscrutable. Later, he shrugged off the incident when I asked about it, as if getting punched in the middle of the yard by his father is nothing unusual.
But I know otherwise. Just like I know the shift between us began on that day.
Sometimes I try to convince myself that my imagination is working overtime. On the surface, Julian is no different. He’s endlessly concerned with my well-being. I can’t think of a single serious argument between us. Sex is more gentle ever since the pregnancy but he always makes me feel desirable. All of his promises to me have been kept.
Still, more than one reality can be true.
Julian and I don’t fight. Yet the void of unspoken words can be louder than the echoes of angry ones.
We were on the cusp of…something. A soulful, intimate connection that inspires poetry, composes music and writes the stories of history. I didn’t imagine that. Nor did I imagine how Julian is the one who subtly pulled back.
He just waited too long. I was already in love with him. Some switches can’t be turned off.
Now I’m stuck with this desperate, intense love for my husband. I’m pregnant with our twins. And he signs his letters to me as Regards, Julian.
Stifling a sigh that will surely draw attention, the nearby sound of Alice and Tye bantering back and forth vaguely penetrates my thoughts. Alice is still raving about the scenery and planning how she’ll capture it on canvas while Tye generously offers his services as a model. He says clothing can be optional. He insists his nudity renders any autumn scene more cozy and charming.
Their flirtation is cute and meaningless. Tye is incorrigible and Alice doesn’t take him seriously.
The sky is clear today and I’m told this temperature is warm for October. When I arrived at Storm’s Eye Ranch, the trees were garnished with only the color green. Now they are splashed with hues of red and orange as the end of their life cycle draws near.Autumn is so pretty here and I know it won’t last. Seasons never do. Soon enough the leaves will fall and the trees will be bare. Somehow I dread this.
Getty skulks on the perimeter of our informal gathering, silent and possibly eavesdropping as he casually flips his knife between his fingers. I assumed he was still out riding with Fort. From what I gathered by listening to earlier snatches of conversation, the two of them planned to check out some of the surveillance cameras around the ranch. I never even heard him return.
By now I’ve learned how to handle Getty and he doesn’t bother me anymore. It is unfortunate that he’s found a new temporary target in Alice. I do hope he doesn’t provoke her into inflicting The Treatment during her visit this week. I get the feeling Alice might be unprepared for his retaliation.
When he catches my eye, Getty smirks and sheaths the knife on his hip. In the background, Fort appears on horseback, crosses the meadow, and trots over to where Sonny waits with a couple of his men.
After a few words, Fort turns his horse toward the nearest stable. Sonny disappears around the back of the house and his men fan out to their regular posts. Julian has grown more strict about security, especially when he’s away. With Cass also gone this week, the men are more watchful than ever.
I’m accustomed to this feeling of being monitored but Alice isn’t. She sits up straight and eyes the menacing figures with suspicion.
“Quite the fortress,” she mutters, but when she looks at me she pastes on an enthusiastic smile. “I have to say, I do sleep more soundly here with all these layers of masculine protection.”
“I’ve got plenty of protection, beautiful,” boasts Tye. “Don’t you worry.”
“We’re not talking about the same thing,” Alice says with an eye roll. “Cecilia, will Julian be returning before I leave on Sunday?”
Tye isn’t finished butting into the conversation. “You don’t need Julian,” he insists. “You’ve got me.”
“Hush.” Alice picks up his cowboy hat and drops it over his face.
“I have no idea when Julian will be back,” I admit.
Alice knows me too well. She hears the bite in my voice and pauses. In a rare event, she appears to be at a loss for words but I don’t miss the brief tightening of anger around her mouth.
“Well,” she finally says with a strained smile, “it’s his loss if he misses out on my sparkling wit.”
“It’s not enough that you’ve inflicted it on the rest of us?” Getty says, having crept closer with no warning.
