Julia can't shake the feeling that Richard is about to do something reckless.
He hugged Tommy a little too tightly, kissed her longer than usual. Hell, that he kissed her in the crowded train station was unusual in and of itself. She wants so badly to believe him when he promises to meet her in three days, but Richard is terrible at hiding things from her. He's too insistent on this holiday. Too keen to get them all away from the house. As the seconds tick by in the station she tallies it all up in her head trying to come up with an answer that doesn't make her sick to her stomach.
Julia knows a thing or two about being lied to. She remembers finding the enlistment papers in Freddie's dresser when she was putting his shirts away. Through the bedroom window she heard him tossing the ball around with dad in the backyard. Later, when she caught him sneaking a cigarette in the garage she confronted him about it. Didn't he know what that would do to dad? He put an easy arm around her shoulder with a megawatt grin, blew smoke into her curls - told her she worried too much.
Promise me you'll come back?
But no amount of smooth talk and sibling banter can rid her of the heaviness in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down. Years pass before they get the telegram she's known they would receive since he left.
Dad has been lying to her all her life, so it's rather ironic that she can still trust him when it matters. The worst lie he ever told to her came just after her fourteenth birthday.
Your mom is going to be fine, I promise. She's just a little tired these days is all.
She remembers mom, so small and fragile in her bed, the bones of her wrists jutting out sharply. Some nights when she heard dad drinking downstairs she and Freddie would sneak into their parents' room and watch her sleep.
When she died dad was inconsolable. Julia realized then that he believed the lies he told her, and that made her pity him deeply. She laid out his suit for the funeral, pressed Fred's tie, called her aunt in Chicago, and made coffee for all of the mourners after the service.
Call it intuition, but she knew when she tearfully told Douglas the news about Freddie's death that he would leave her. He held her a little too stiffly, made assurances to her that were too ardent, too fictional.
Oh, Jules, that's awful. At least we've got each other, right? Your dad will be fine in a few months. You'll see.
They were supposed to get married that summer, but he kept putting off making the announcement. Dad's drinking was out of control. One night she called Douglas up desperate because dad was missing. On the other end of the line his voice was so cold and distant.
Let him sleep it off somewhere.
She could have sworn she heard a woman's voice on the other end.
Julia spent the night driving to every speakeasy in town until she found her father, passed out and bleeding from a gash on his forehead. It took every ounce of strength she had to lever him into the car, cursing and crying all the while. That was the last straw. The next evening she couldn't speak for the bile that rose in her throat as Douglas explained to her that he couldn't be responsible for his own children and Paul as a father in-law. He didn't have the decency to be honest and tell her that he had fallen in love with someone else. That only became clear a month later when his engagement notice was printed in the paper.
It's this sad legacy of falsehoods and disappointments that make Julia attuned to the odd behaviour of her husband. Richard is the only man she's known who is utterly incapable of lying outright. His lies are caught out by the way he holds his head, the wringing of his hands, the twitching of his upper lip. His lies are lies of omission; the things he won't say, but she knows linger just under the surface.
The last few weeks have been blissfully free of that gnawing doubt that plagues her. Richard returned home, Gillian relinquished her claim over Tommy once and for all, Dad cut back on his drinking again, and slowly but surely she'd begun a courtship with her new husband. Their marriage was conceived out of necessity with little time for contemplation or celebration, but the steadiness of his hand on hers to reminds her that they have the rest of their lives to learn to trust each other, and to fall back in love. It's not easy, but somewhere in Richard's green eye she glimpses the promise of future happiness that drew her to him from the start.
As the weeks passed since his return he seemed eager to share more with her than ever before. They've spent a lot of time talking since their wedding day, about their separate lives before, and about their future life together. Sometimes they both end up in tears. Sometimes she gets angry. Sometimes he makes bad jokes, and sometimes she kisses him silly.
Her curiosity about Emma and the farm in Plover had been piqued since the day he returned dad's coat. He'd made it sound simple and beautiful, so when Richard suggested a trip to Wisconsin while they hung the wash on the line she was delighted. It made a lot of sense; both Harrow siblings had new spouses to introduce, and now there was a new baby to meet.
I was thinking… next week? Could you get the time off?
Looking back on the conversation she wonders what she missed.
She glances at the clock hanging on the brick wall of the station and feels increasingly more uneasy as the minutes pass. It's been close to an hour since Richard dropped them off. The train should be arriving any minute. Tommy sits between her and Pop on a hard wooden bench preoccupied with his chocolate and swinging his legs.
"You keep doing that and we won't have any tickets left." Dad gives her hands a pointed look. She's been unconsciously folding and unfolding the sleeper tickets and dining car vouchers.
"Tommy, that was a lot of chocolate. Why don't you take a drink of water?" She points over to the fountain on the far wall and gives him an encouraging smile. As always he obeys quickly.
"Was Richard acting… strangely just now?" It feels odd voicing this thought to dad, so she stares at the clock on the wall while she says it.
Dad huffs. "He's always strange."
"That's not what I meant. Do you think he's coming back?"
She desperately wants dad to say something to erase her suspicions, but instead he says, "Maybe."
"Maybe?" She says this louder than she means too, so she lowers her voice to an angry whisper, "What do you mean, maybe?" Now he is the one avoiding her gaze.
"He's a man, Julia. And your husband. Let him be."
He says more but his words are lost by the sudden arrival of the train. The hiss and clank of iron drown him out and make her feel cold and nauseous. Tommy returns excitedly, yelling and pointing to the platform.
"Dad, I have to go." He looks at her with disapproval and surprise, but she continues on, glancing at the schedule painted on the wall behind them. "Take the tickets and go on ahead with Tommy. There's another train leaving at six o'clock. I'll only be a few hours behind."
She gives Tommy a quick hug, and dad a pleading look, and perhaps in the moment he recognizes all that she's sacrificed for him without complaint. He sighs and mutters to himself for a moment before nodding to her and steering the boy towards their waiting car.
She leaves the station with her suitcase banging against her leg, and her heart banging against her ribs. A cab is a luxury she can't really afford, but she hails one anyway, praying in the back seat and counting out the fare with shaky hands.
Richard, don't do anything stupid. Please.