Meant to Be
It must have been a Saturday, for the couple was in no rush. Having been abstaining from lovemaking now for six weeks, as per Dr. Tash's orders, they had each gradually come to more easily curb their sexual urges. However, each of them was still quite … romantically active, in their dreams. As a matter of fact, Julia had risen that morning, after having had a lovely, highly charged, dream of making love with William, who, in reality, still slumbered in their bed next to her. As she walked to the bathroom, she removed her nightgown, savoring the feel of the fresh air on her bare skin, and prepared for the day.
As William drifted awake, her humming in the bathroom seemed to flow over him like waves gently lapping at the shore. The sound made him happy. He rolled over onto his other side and tucked her pillow under his head to join with his, thus lifting his field of vision higher, enabling him to see across their hotel bedroom. It was a breezy, sunny day in the middle of October, and the smell of fall was in the air. He would enjoy sleeping-in.
Still humming, Julia walked over to her vanity, pausing to inspect her own naked body in the mirror. She didn't notice that her husband watched on from his vantage point in their bed. Her humming stopped as her inner dialogue began, "Well, little one, you sure are getting quite big," she thought, as she turned sideways and placed her hand over her six-month old fetus. A sigh escaped announcing her concern, as her mind considered her image; she was, "far from attractive," she thought. Even her breasts seemed to be losing their beauty, becoming so swollen … but the texture and color weren't right – too hard, and made ugly with blatant blue veins catching the eye, and the nipples were enlarged and darker. The whole picture made her cringe with distaste. She slipped into a pair of her "humungous" bloomers and sat down to brush out her hair. "Perhaps it is for the best that Isaac advised us to refrain from making love," she figured … for she wasn't sure she would have been able to bear the pain of seeing, in William's eyes, his aversive reaction to her body in this state.
Propped up on the pillows, the sight of his lover, his wife, his soul-mate, naked – and pregnant with HIS child – had stirred William, touched him, deeply and profoundly. He remembered no other time in his life that his heart soared so pleasantly – warmed, and thus made light, with joy, and love, and a sense of gratitude. She was so exquisitely beautiful. He was not sure he would ever be able to take his eyes off of her. As Julia sat and began to brush her hair, he said a prayer in his head, thanking the Lord for his – for their – good fortune.
After his prayer, admiring the way the early-morning light tinted her reddish-golden curls, he thought, "She is so generous, giving so much of herself to have my child…" Now, William knew rationally, that Julia was not only going through with this pregnancy for him, she clearly wanted their child too, but his biological inability to do what she was doing rendered him eternally grateful to her, in a way that he would never be able to express. He couldn't possibly love her more… He was glad he had thought to buy her flowers yesterday, and she had wanted chocolate cake earlier in the day, he remembered affectionately, prompting him to run to the bakery in the middle of the workday to bring her the scrumptious treat in the morgue. He sighed as he thought, "I would do anything to make her happy, to make her more comfortable... anything."
William sat up in their bed, drawing the attention of his wife to his reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met and Julia felt a familiar jolt of tightening in her womb as she thought, "My God, he is gorgeous." She had found that her libido was even stronger now that she was pregnant, figuring that somehow the stretching of her muscles and the increase in her blood flow intensified the sensations. Her dream earlier, as was commonly the case these days, had been quite magnificent. She had often wondered if such experiences were dangerous, possibly triggering a pre-mature arrival of the baby, but she had decided not to worry about it, since she seemed to have no control over such dreams anyway.
"Come here," William said, his voice scratchy and dry.
Oh, how her womb flipped over with excitement in response. "This is not a good idea," she thought. She swallowed, attempting to push away her lustful urges and hoping to be able to speak without sounding aroused. She responded, "William, uh, perhaps it is best if I don't…" Still looking in the mirror, she saw his disappointment and a pang of regret ran through her. She offered an explanation, "It's just that you look so … beautiful William, and I …"
"Julia, come here and let me tell my wife how much I love her, and wish my child a good morning," he argued. (He was not feeling aroused, but the emotions he was feeling were incredibly strong – and all he knew was he wanted her closer and he wanted to make her feel good). "It will be alright, I um … I am completely aware of what we are not to do," he added, thus convincing her. She placed the brush down and stood…
"Take those off, hmm?" he requested, his eyes down on her bloomers. (He wanted to feel their baby, maybe even listen to its heartbeat, and he didn't want the clumsy bloomers in the way. Besides, he loved the feel of her silky skin as it slid over his).
She gave him a scolding look, for she was feeling much too … sexual, and she mistakenly thought he was too.
Fortunately, her teasing had worked to help him see that she was fighting against her desire to make love, and that she didn't know he wasn't. Yet, every instinct he had told him that if he told her he was not aroused, it would hurt her feelings. He sighed as he tried to find a way to explain. "Julia, come over here and lay with me … We'll just cuddle together for a while. It will be fine," he encouraged.
She bargained, demanding he take off his pajama top if she were to remove her bloomers – explaining that she wanted to feel his skin on hers, and then they each removed said garments and she tucked in next to him under the sheets.
The cozy feeling was exquisite as they lie together appreciating the experience of being close, the softness of skin, the smells, the warmth, the sound of breath and voice in one's ear – so intimate, so special. As they spooned together, William placed his hand on her belly. She guided him to the right place, and with her hand over his, they waited, anticipating the confirmation, the touch, the thrill. Bump, it came against his hand from within – maybe a foot kicking, maybe an elbow. The resulting smiles could not be any bigger. A surge of heat, total bliss, flooded through each of them. He kissed her ear, her neck. Julia pressed his hand harder into her belly as she rolled onto her back and their eyes met once again. Experience had taught her that the baby would often shift positions after she moved, and she was hoping he would be able to feel it. Her eyes held his, somehow telling him to focus. She was right, the baby hurled and kicked and rolled. As she watched his eyes dilate and sparkle, she gave into the urge to laugh – but it was a laugh of pure joy and delight. She loved him so.
Satisfied, William propped himself up on an elbow and brought his hand up to play with her curls. "I hope our child gets your hair …" he said.
"Oh William, and your eyes. I so hope the baby has your beautiful, warm, chocolate eyes!" Julia declared, looking into his eyes as she said it.
Letting go of a lock in order to stroke her cheek with his thumb, William replied, "Julia, I find your eyes to be quite beautiful … They are very, well … magnetic. And they have this enticing dark ring around the outer edge, and they are so big… Mmm, very lovely."
Julia reached up to touch, to caress, his shoulder as she said, "I have always thought my eyes looked a bit like Susana's… You must have gotten your mother's eyes I guess – As Harry's are blue too, hmm?" William nodded. Talk of his family seemed to always sadden him so. Julia sensed the dampening of his mood right away. She changed the subject, "William, according to Mendelian genetics, which, if I remember correctly you read about one summer at the beach …" She giggled at the thought of anyone else in the world choosing such a book for their leisurely reading. She wasn't sure he understood why she found it funny, or surprising. She decided to push on without explaining, "Well, didn't Mendel say that brown eyes are dominant, and since we know Harry had blue eyes … well wouldn't you have the recessive gene as well as the dominant one. I mean, isn't there a 50/50 chance that our child will have brown eyes and a 50/50 chance it will have blue ones?"
"Mm-hmm," he replied, adding, "If you made a pi square with our genes, your two recessive ones and, for me one dominant and one recessive, well, the result would be 50/50, yes." Her distraction having worked, and now gotten him excited about considering other factors as well, he reasoned aloud, "It is probably similar with the hair color because Harry was blond, before the grey. But I think, unfortunately, there is less chance for our baby to have such beautiful curls…" he continued as he twirled and twisted one of her curls, "I believe they are recessive, and no one in my family had curly hair, so …" When his eyes reconnected with Julia's, he realized he did not have her full attention. She seemed to be struggling with a decision. "What is it Julia?" he asked.
She squirmed under him as she tried to decide whether to bring up the subject of gender. She thought it might be uncomfortable. Her eyes glanced down at her bulging belly and then back to his. She sighed, she was going to share her thoughts, "I don't really want to admit it, but … uh, I hope the baby is a boy." She took a deep breath and held his eye – she wanted to see his reaction.
William instinctively tried to close up, for he did prefer a boy, and yet he felt uneasy about disclosing so. He knew it was unreasonable – that he would love a girl with all of his heart, surely as much as he would a boy. "Oh," he replied quickly. "Why?" he asked as he drew back a little, increasing the distance between them.
Wanting to feel on even ground with him, Julia slid out from under him and rolled on her side to prop herself up on an elbow as well. She believed she had seen it – his preference, and she did not want to make him feel bad about it. Her hand glided to his chest, then up to reach behind his neck so she could scratch her nails softly across the back of his scalp, then tenderly trace the outline of his ear. "I think, William, it is what you want… And I want, more than anything in the world, to give you what you want," she offered.
"Julia, I would love a little girl. I would love her with everything I have," he said.
Reassuringly she answered, "I know William. I know you would, and I am convinced that you will be completely happy if our baby is a girl, but, well … didn't the papers report that you, "saw your future son" back at the turn of the century, when you took a trip in the time machine?" Her thumb found his lips and traced them.
William dropped his eyes and watched as his hand slid along her naked body, from her ribcage, down the curve into her waist, and then back up the steep slope of her hip. As she lay in this position on her side, he could feel her hip bone. Once again, he placed his hand over the fetus inside of her. Sincerity was in his voice when he said, "It doesn't make any sense …" wrinkling one side of his mouth, and then lifting his eyes back to meet hers as he continued, "Sometimes, well …"
She thought he looked so … vulnerable, as he pushed himself to explain. It was endearing.
"Sometimes I think this was all," he paused, taking a quick glance at her, seeming concerned, before he finished, "meant to be." Suddenly needing to sound rational, he hurried to add, "Now I know that it was Dr. Roberts whispering in my ear when I was deceived into thinking I saw the future… And he probably was the one who chose to "make" my imaginary child into a boy, but, well, there was another time besides that one, and it was a boy then too."
"Another time?" she asked.
"Mm." he answered, nodding his head while his big, beautiful eyes stayed glued to hers, wide and open, and so hopeful, hopeful that she would understand. "It was just a fantasy I had … but it felt so magical and forceful, so significant, at the time…"
"When?" she interrupted.
He shifted, trying to feel more comfortable, and said, "At the conclusion of the case with the fake dinosaur bone – when you and I were talking in my office and I told you of my lifelong dream of excavating fossils in the Alberta badlands, and how it had been crushed by our discoveries of the corruption of those in the field."
"Oh yes," Julia replied, "I do remember that." The baby shifted again, drawing its parents' attention, and provoking them to share a smile. Their hearts were full of awe. Then Julia's stomach growled – loudly. She giggled and said, "I am starving. I guess there is no denying it."
He sat up and offered her a hand. "Shall we eat then, doctor?" he suggested.
"That would be lovely, detective," she responded, suggesting, "I will order us some breakfast while you clean up?"
"Good," he answered as they rose from the bed, and then he added, "Perhaps afterwards I can read to you about these matters from my journal. We haven't done that for a long time…"
"Oh William, that would be delightful," she replied excitedly, stepping in close to him and cupping his cheek with her hand. She kissed his lips and then quickly moved down to kiss his neck. It was the morning stubble on his face that did it – shattered her self-control. The feeling of it scratching against her cheek sparked memories of the hundreds and hundreds of mornings when, along with that very same sensation, she had heard his rapid, demanding, hot breath in her ear, and felt his weight pinning her to the mattress, as she would writhe and erupt underneath him from his touch so very deep inside her. Oh, how she wanted to hear him moan in her ear.
He heard her breath surge out of her nostrils, warming his skin, felt her grow heavier against his chest and drop, betraying what was happening inside of her swimming head and her somersaulting womb. "Julia," he said. He cleared his throat and reminded, "Weren't you going to order us some breakfast?" A moment later, he heard her swallow and then exhale a deep, strained breath, and he waited … for her to pull away.
Turning her head away from the temptation of his neck, she replied, her voice breathy with lust, sounding dazed, "Yes…" she said, and then stepped back, her eyes stuck on his bare, and enticing, chest. She sighed and pushed back another step, taking a quick peek at him and then forcing herself to ask, with her eyes now on the door, "Do you want pancakes or eggs?"
"Eggs and bacon sounds great. Thanks," he answered nonchalantly as he turned and headed for the bathroom.
Over breakfast they talked of names for the baby. It was a new topic – one they had subconsciously avoided in the past, probably because it seemed to require an emotional commitment – to the belief that the child would survive, and in Julia's case, that was much less certain than for the average mother-to-be. A while back, they had decided to live as if both the baby and Julia would come out of this fine, but the fact that they breached the subject of names this morning signified a deeper acceptance of that belief. Not directly returning to the conversation they had had in bed about the baby being a boy or a girl, Julia brought up boy's names first, suggesting the name, 'William Jr.' Her heart surged with glee as William placed his fork to the side of his plate and leaned forward towards her, with his eyes twinkling and bright, and asked, "Do you think you could stand it, living with two Williams?"
She replied, "I don't think life could be more perfect."
William went back for a bite of his eggs, thinking about any possibilities they might have overlooked, "Of course," he thought, "Julia's father…" He took a sip of tea and then asked, "Perhaps we should consider 'Lionel' if we have a son?"
She smiled and took his hand. "You are very sweet William, but I do believe we have already decided," she said.
"Then William Jr. it is," he declared. "And if the baby is a girl … Would you like Julia Jr.?" he asked.
She scowled at him a little. "Now William, I know we have a modern marriage, and I am all for breaking traditions, but that just doesn't seem like a trend I want to start," she explained.
He nodded and suggested her mother's name.
"Perhaps," she answered. Pondering, she paused, and then suggested, "William, how about 'Susana?' It is a lovely name, and …"
So quickly his eyes darted away and he dropped his chin, at first, surprising her, for she had expected him to like the proposed name, but then she realized he had become choked-up. Julia sighed and then lifted a foot under the table to find his calf and rub it, calling him to share with her. When he lifted his eyes she felt her breath catch. She was always taken with the look of him when his eyes filled with tears, becoming so flooded, his long, thick lashes holding back the flow against gravity. She knew when he blinked the torrents would come. Deep in her marrow she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him – to kiss his tears and his sadness away, and yet, she waited for him, aspiring to give him control.
The blink came, and he rushed to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand. Knowing he didn't need to explain, that Julia already knew, he told her, "She will never see her niece, or her nephew … She will never know of our love for each other, of our child. She was so saddened by my grief and pain at the news of her impending dying, and I… I just wish she could have known how happy I became…" He rubbed a thumb under his eye to whisk away another tear adding, "I think it would have made her happy … to know."
Yes," Julia replied, her voice low and contemplative, "Yes, I'm sure it would have." Julia's thoughts turned to the similar heartache he must feel about his mother, who would also never know about his life, would never take joy in the intense, wonderful things that had happened to him, would never be able to feel the power of comforting him through the suffering of pain and loss … Then her own mother's voice, her presence, appeared in Julia's mind, prompting her to tear-up as well. "It somehow hurts even more when you can't share the good things that happen, even worse than being without them during the bad, hmm?" she asked, connecting with him. He nodded. He took a big breath, lifting his chest, and then exhaled, trying to send away the pain.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Julia changed the subject, "So, whether the baby is a boy or a girl, we have a name – and we are prepared for the second child as well … I mean, at least if the second child is a different gender than the first..."
William rested his chin in his hand, he was listening. "If not …" he started to say…
"Well, if we have two boys, then we could name the second boy Lionel," she concluded.
A mischievous smile curled onto William's face, immediately warming her heart. "And if we have two girls or a boy and a girl, well then I propose we name the dog Lionel," William declared, moving to duck from her thrown napkin.
"Always with the dog William!" she squeaked. "I think, that if we have two girls, it would be much more apropos to name the dog 'William Jr.," she hurried to say before falling into laughter at his feigned insulted look.
After breakfast, William suggested that, since it was such a beautiful day, they go for a walk in the park. Julia's sigh indicated her worry about the exercise being overly demanding on her pregnant body, so William suggested that they take a cab and go to the same spot where they first kissed. They could bring a blanket, and he would give her a foot massage and read to her from his journal. Finding his plans irresistible, she agreed. On their way out, the detective told the doorman where they would be in case they were needed.
Lying on the picnic blanket together, Julia in her lusciously pampered stocking feet, William propped himself up on an elbow and found the page. He read:
I have never told anyone before, but it is no wonder that I told her. She understands me, seems to know me somehow, to care about me… and can be trusted not to think poorly of me. If I had to say, I believe she thought my childhood dream of being a fossil hunter was anything but boring or fanciful. Even with me in a state of disillusionment with the professionals in the field of paleontology, she was nothing but encouraging.
Perhaps that is why it happened… So far, such premonitions have only occurred in my dreams, or have been hinted at in a medium's words or a circus fortuneteller's cards – I have not allowed myself such conscious fantasies, but it was her in my vision – and we had a son! The feeling was uncanny, a sensation beyond me just showing myself what I truly wanted. It went past my heart, seemed to delve deeply into my soul. It was as if the wind whispered its secret to me – it was meant to be.
The magic and awe of what he had just read triggered in him a need to be more rational, not to allow himself to be swayed by the illogical. He closed the journal and added, "Of course, this was before you told me that your abortion had left you sterile, so it would not be quite as far-fetched for me to think we would have children." He took one of her curls in his fingers and then touched her face, turning her, persuading her to look into his eyes. "At the time, I remember being much more compelled by my having seen you as my wife, the mother of my child, than I was with having seen that I had a child. It felt like a dream come true," he said. He continued, slightly shaking his head with disbelief, "A dream, or a wish, and yet somehow much more than that, that had stirred within me from the very first time we met." He wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, showing her that he knew it was not reasonable, and thus was subject to doubt.
She slid over closer to him, wanting to be under him. She spoke softly, tempting him to lean down closer to her as she said, "You really have quite a way with words William. It is almost poetic. Don't minimize the power of your words to convey the mystery and enchantment of the experience." She wished he would kiss her, finding herself becoming aroused again. She reached up and traced his lips, and her womb flipped over with excitement when she saw him look around, for she knew he was checking to see if anyone would see them kiss. Oh, and then he kissed her – a slow, warm kiss. He broke off the kiss and reached under her to pull out his journal.
Whispering, magnifying the intimacy, he said, "But, as you know, by the time I climbed into Professor Harm's time machine, I knew you were the one for me, the only one, and I knew that I had lost you forever. I even knew that if by some miracle, I would ever be able to get you back, that we would not have children unless we adopted, and yet, under the influence of electric shocks inducing a seizure, and Dr. Roberts whispering whatever came to his mind in my ear, what I came away with was that in my future, there was you, and we had a son… Looking at it now, it seems impossible – just wild coincidence, and yet it doesn't feel that way. It feels like it was real, that what we have today was foretold." William leafed through the pages, looking for what he had written at the time…
From behind them, Julia heard someone park a bicycle, and then she saw the constable's large figure come into view. "William," she said as she pushed against his shoulder, "Constable Jackson…"
William rolled over to face the constable and sat up. "Constable Jackson, what have you?" he asked.
They headed to the crime scene together. Julia went back to the morgue with the ambulance after giving William her preliminary thoughts. She would not need to perform the post-mortem until Monday. William had to do some investigating and would meet her back at the hotel later.
Julia entered the suite exhausted, "particularly for a Saturday," she thought. As she put away the picnic blanket, her mind fondly replayed memories of the way William had watched out for her at the crime scene, helping her up after she had squatted next to the body, and helping her into the ambulance, carrying her medical bag and handing it up to her once she had taken a seat. He did not behave this way even as recently as last month. Of course, she was much more able then. Now she found so many things difficult, resulting in her feeling vulnerable, helpless, and at times unreasonably worried that he would leave her, or even worse, as she had always feared, he would die. She fought so hard not to let such feeling s run away with her. Even when they were surging, she tried to fake her sense of security. She worried about over-burdening William – she knew it was her imagination, but she worried she would scare him away. She went into the bedroom to put away William's journal.
In his drawer, never having noticed it before, she saw a little brown book – but what particularly caught her attention was the bullet stuck in the book. Instantly, she recognized the book as hers – An Explanation of the Poetry of Lord George Gordon Byron and Percy Blythe Shelley. Her mind bolted off in multiple directions: "Why did he have her book? … How did the book get shot – Was he nearly killed!? ... When did I have this book last? …" Marveling at the wedging of the bullet in the top portion of the book, and opening it, with her eyes following the movement of the bullet riding along with the cover, she found herself drawn to the prose marked by the point of the bullet, the words it did not quite pass through. It felt as if the bullet had been guided by fate's hand, and thus the words carried a message from destiny.
She read the poem out loud to the empty room:
Love's Philosophy
The fountains mingle with the river, See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle-
Why not I with thine?
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;-
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
Emotions swelled within her. The poem captured a pining, a suffering, and a wishing that seemed so familiar. She read it again. Putting the tiny book down on her vanity, she could hardly wait to ask William about it.
She looked around their suite, entertaining thoughts of how happy they have been here. In only a few weeks, she would be stopping work at the morgue – and they would be packing up. Their beautiful house, complete with all of William's innovative and novel ideas, would be waiting for them. Adding on another servant's apartment had slowed up the progress a little bit. Shaking her head at the memory of the abundant arguments she and William had had about servants, she hoped that the last one was the final one. It had been a doozy, but he had remembered something she had said years ago that helped them get to the heart of the matter. The sound of his voice as he first repeated her words played in her head, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy." She sighed and then counted her lucky stars to have him in her life, as her husband, and soon to be, the father of her child.
Deciding to take a shower, she undressed, once again finding her eyes drawn to her reflection, and once again, feeling uneasy about what she saw in the mirror. It raised such contradiction within her – she loved the large, round bulge in the front of her – the miracle it represented… Julia took a moment to thank science for coming up with ways to make their child possible. But, being pregnant rendered her body so unsexy, so unappealing … And the timing of such a state was awful, for she never felt it was more essential than now to keep William interested. Not to mention her own remarkable state of constant … readiness.
Not surprisingly, she found herself becoming intolerably aroused in the shower, spurred on by her brain's interminable flow of amorous memories, one after the other. At first, it was the memory of feeling William's unshaven cheek against hers this morning, prompting her to grow week in the knees all over again, right now in the shower. Then she remembered their honeymoon in New York, and his eternal teasing of her, seeming to cast a spell over her as they played with their reflection in the window. She chuckled to herself remembering how disappointed William had been that they did not get the beautiful view he had been promised. She heard it, William's intoxicating voice in her head, "This is the most magnificent view I have ever seen. Look at how beautiful you are Julia." And then she remembered the agony of desire he put her through, the sight of his hands on her as she watched in the window reflection, and the feel of him pressed solidly against her, rigid and honed-in on what he wanted, what he would take. Her nostrils flared, her hot breath mingling with the steam in the shower, announcing her urgency, oh, and how she melted so with the memory, she wondered if she might not be washed and swirled away down in the drain. Weakened, buckling, she fell forward into the cold wall of the shower, stimulating another memory of having him lose control, roughly and abruptly turning her around and then pounding into her with all his might, desperate and demanding. She was so dizzy, swimming with lust. "This is crazy," she thought as she fought to pull herself back to reality.
As she dried off, her mind still pestered her with yearning. She remembered William standing before her, wearing just his tie – Suddenly her body reacted to the memory, surging into an arch as her womb tightened and flipped with a deep ache for him. "Oh," she said aloud as the air burst out of her and she remembered the feeling of having him back her up into the wall, and lift her up, and whisper such breathtaking words in her ear, about how he had loved her since the first moment he had seen her, how he had known since then that she was the one for him, right before he breached her, filled her, sending her over the edge.
She heard his key in the door and she worked to shake-off the spinning, weak, desperate feelings within her. "I'm just getting out of the shower William," she called out, impressing herself with her ability to sound in control of her senses.
"Good," she heard him reply. He had bought her a few things, some more roses, pink this time, intending to convince her he would be perfectly happy with a girl, and one of her favorite treats she hadn't had for a while – peanut brittle. He also had a bottle of wine. He took a moment to put the flowers in a vase, and lay the other gifts out on the side-table by the couch, before he would join her in the bedroom.
She had hurried to throw on a dress, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about having William see her naked and with her figure so unshapely. "How did it go?" she asked with her voice loud to reach the other room, as she stepped into her big, unsightly bloomers and then took a seat at the vanity to brush out her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he walked to the bedroom door, stopping and leaning against the door frame and then talking her through the various clues he had learned about the murder case.
Once he had finished, he paused and watched the sight of her brushing her hair. He let it bloom and build in his heart, only needing to wait to feel it grow warm inside his chest– his love for her.
"The park was lovely earlier William. What a wonderful idea," she declared as she placed the brush down and began to braid her hair. She saw it, out on her periphery, he shifted his balance, started to approach her. Her body reacted, heat and a hypnotic humming along with the floating waves. She lectured herself, "Really now Julia, get a hold of yourself." She remembered the one, tender kiss they had shared as they lay on the blanket … and then the memories of the first thrilling time, in the same place, flooded through her. "My God," she thought, "I knew back then that our love would be powerful, but I really had no idea…"
"What's this?" he asked as he lifted the book with the bullet in it from her vanity.
"Oh … I found it when I put your journal away. It seems to have quite a story to tell, hmm?" she replied.
"Indeed," he answered. "Perhaps it is also best told with the journal?" he pondered aloud. He went to his dresser and fished out the journal once more. "Shall we?" he invited.
Julia stood and stepped in close to him, fiddling with his tie flirtatiously and suggested, "That sounds lovely detective, but perhaps without the tie."
He lifted an eyebrow scoldingly at her and said, "Doctor, why are you always after my tie?"
Julia's eyes were focused down on her work undoing his tie as she answered, "I must say detective, one of my biggest thrills comes from having my ever-so-buttoned-down husband …" she leaned forward and found his ear and whispered, "lose some of his buttons and come undone."
Her giggle tickled him, lit him up, and he took her in his arms, pulling her close enough that she had to stop her advancement in removing his suit. "I brought you some gifts doctor," he said in her ear, "Come see." He took her by the hand and led her into the living room, helping her to take a seat on the couch, and then placing his journal down on a nearby table. He held her eye as he unbuttoned his vest and then removed it along with his jacket, laying them over the back of a chair. She watched, feeling knots twist and tighten between her legs, as he pulled his tie from around his neck and undid the top two buttons. His eyes drifted to the side-table as he found the end of his sleeve to remove his cuff-link, a gift of hers, "Do you like the flowers?" he asked.
With every ounce of will she had, she forced herself to take her eyes off of him and look at the flowers instead. "They are beautiful, William," she declared. "Pink …"
He sat next to her and explained, "A gesture of welcoming from my heart, for what may be, our little girl." She smiled and then caught sight of the scrumptious treat on the table next to the roses, "Peanut-brittle!" she exclaimed.
"Mm," he answered.
"And wine!" she added excitedly.
"Yes," William answered, offering her a slight bow. "I thought it might be more like our first picnic … Since we got called away earlier."
"How delightful," she said, "Will you be having some?" She watched as he struggled slightly with the question, and then gave her a smile.
"Well, although I can think of no excuse, no scientific experiment to run, no major celebration … I will, in memory of our first kiss," he answered. He got up, returned with the glasses, poured the wine, and then handed her a glass, and they shared a clink. Lifting his journal from the table, he sat next to her and said, "So milady, you were wondering about your book – on poetry I believe."
Looking up at him through her lashes as she took a sip of her wine, trying hard to control her glee and pepper it with her sense of intrigue, she replied, as casually as possible, "Yes – Byron and Shelley, is it not?"
"Yes," he answered with a nod to her. He turned his attention to his journal and worked to find the page. Upon finding it he looked back at her and said, "Perhaps some context is in order…"
"Please," she smiled. She was already truly having a wonderful time.
William turned to better face her, pulling a bent knee up between them and resting an elbow over the back of the couch. "Do you remember citing a passage of Shelley's from the book aloud, um at the time, while you were performing an autopsy? Do you remember who you quoted Shelley to?" he asked, leaning towards her, seeming to pull her in.
Earlier, when she had first found the book, she did not, but now, with the way he had asked the question, it came to her. Her face lit up with recognition, "Yes," she exclaimed, "I do. I cited, "To a Skylark" … to …" Her eyes sparkled as they held his and finished, "To your brother, Jasper." She shifted her position, moving in closer to him and asked, "Did you take it then?"
Scratching his head nervously, he then answered, "No … No, I took it later. I had come back to the morgue … um, I was hoping to talk to you before I left for Vancouver." William sighed and continued, "I had broken things off with Mrs. Jones, and I wanted to renew our relationship…" William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth and paused. "I doubted you would want to though …" he took a deep breath, "I thought you were seeing Reginald Poundset … I saw you had scheduled a meeting with him in Stouffeville … That was where you were – with him. It's why you weren't in the morgue." William reached over and took her chin in his fingers and gave her a brief smile before he pushed on. He dropped his eyes away and said, "I was devastated really." Quickly his eyes lifted and met hers as he admitted, "Jealous… Then I saw the book, and I remembered how jealous I had felt when you and Jasper seemed to hit it off so well. It was eating me up inside. I felt so inadequate. I thought that I might read the book, knowing you loved it so much. Maybe it would help me win you back, or perhaps I just wanted to feel closer to you and it seemed to be the only way I could. I tucked it in my vest pocket, and then I hurried off to the train."
"Was that where it was, in your vest pocket, when it … encountered the bullet?" she rushed to ask. He nodded, and then she knew – knew that he had almost died.
William opened his journal to the page and read:
I know I will love her forever, and yet, I do not have her heart, perhaps I never will. Enigmatic, for I have lost my heart to her, and yet, it is she who has saved it. Ironic, that if not for my love for Julia, if not for her book over my heart – stopping the bullet, my heart would beat no more, but still, it is that very love, the impossibleness of it, the loss of it, the void left by its absence that has sapped my life, that causes my heart to wither away. Sometimes I wonder how I could possibly be so wrong…why she doesn't feel it too. I thought she did. Inevitable, somehow destined, I am certain I am meant to be with her, like gravity, it tugs at me, relentlessly, calling me to yield to its power. I must ask her, once more, to take my heart, to hold it, and keep it, for it is hers. As Jasper said, I must, "make it right," or at least do everything in my power to try.
Still holding the page, he lifted his chin, looking for her thoughts. Her mouth was agape and her eyes wide. He said, "Overly romantic, I know, but it had seemed so prophetic, your book in my pocket – stopping the bullet…"
"Yes, I see," she replied. "It's uncanny isn't it?" she asked. "Quite powerful, almost like a sign," she said, receiving his nod… "William, did you ever notice what poem the bullet stopped at?" she urged.
He cleared his throat and nodded, saying, "Yes. I found it to be quite touching… I haven't read it for some time, but I remember feeling the poem captured the constant motion and fluidity of what I felt was our love, as well as its inevitableness, and also the pain I felt being apart from you."
Julia made an effort to get up off of the couch, but finding it difficult, she asked him to go get the book from off of her vanity. She read it to him. Afterwards, she repeated some poignant lines, "All things by a law divine - In another's being mingle- Why not I with thine?" She closed the little book and excitedly said, "It is as if the poem told you to ask me again, don't you think?"
Sounding skeptical, he said, "Perhaps."
She snuggled in close to him and said, "Well, I'm glad you did."
"As am I," he replied. He wrapped his arm around her and she rested her head on his chest.
A few moments later, she lifted her head with curiosity in her eyes and asked, "William, how did you find me – at the balloon?"
He took a deep breath; he had been hoping to avoid disclosing his undignified actions. Embarrassed, he dropped his chin, looking away from her, and his neck began to turn red as he answered, "I, uh … I had realized that I didn't know anything about Mr. Poundset… And I … I guess I wanted to size up my competition." He risked a glance at her, unbeknownst to him, melting her heart. He went on, "Before I left for the west coast, I asked George to look into his background…"
She gave him a squeeze and teased, "Oh, I see, using your connections as a detective to check up on me, hmm?" She was rewarded with his little wrinkled-up-corner-of-his-mouth expression, admitting to the undeniable. "You know William, your showing up at my hot-air balloon, professing your love for me as such… It was very romantic…" she said, then she kissed him and added, "My God, I love you William Murdoch."
"Are you sure?" he asked playfully, "It's not just my love-trinkets that have won your heart?"
Julia's eyes grew wide with excitement as she declared, "Peanut-brittle. I forgot!" She turned to reach over to the side-table and gathered up the tempting delicacy. She broke off a piece for him and then one for her. "Delicious!" she whispered, as if it was their secret.
As they indulged on the peanut-brittle, William asked Julia if she remembered the case with the deadly peanut paste. "Of course," she replied, "It triggered my interest in food allergies. A woman was living her life as a man – a Victor something or other, and she became a member of the Inspector and George's Masonic Lodge." She crunched off another bite of their treat and said, "Fortunately, neither of us is allergic to peanuts," she added, clearly enjoying his "trinket." A giggle pierced the air between them, coming from Julia, and then it blossomed into outright laughter. Covering her mouth, she explained through the jolly bursts, "You should have seen your face, William. It was terribly funny …"
He raised an eyebrow, warning her not to wallow in the memory of his shock and discomfort; he knew exactly where she was going.
Nearly buckling over with laughter, her hand now attempting to shield their baby from the power of its spasms, she declared, "You really thought I was a man. When I asked you for a light … If you had had a match, you would have let me strike it for my cigarette! Honestly, I will never forget the look on your face when you figured out it was me… You were absolutely confounded…" The contagiousness of her laughter caught him, and William began to chuckle as well, as she finished, "It was priceless." Their eyes teared-up and they struggled to catch their breath. She cupped her hand to his cheek and declared her love for him once more. Then she asked, looking at his journal, "Now, I wager that would be quite an interesting entry..."
To her surprise, William blushed, piquing her curiosity even more. "I don't know Julia…" he started to argue.
"Oh William, I so want to hear it," she begged. She wondered to herself, "What could possibly embarrass him so much about this?"
Needing to clear his throat, he said, "I think it would be best if I read it to you at another time – after the baby is born."
"What could my having the baby possibly have to do with it?" she asked, clearly puzzled.
William swallowed and cleared his throat again, "Well, um … Dr. Tash recommended …"
"William! You were aroused by my dressing as a man?!" she asked incredulously. He couldn't possibly turn a redder color. She had guessed right! Shaking her head from side to side, she insisted, her voice rising into a squeak, "William?!"
He rubbed his forehead, as he often did when he was stressed. "Let's just say that the thought of you in trousers – appearing to all the world as a man – when I knew that under that suit there was a curvy, supple, lusciously beautiful woman … The sneaky secret of it..." he said, pausing to lean close to her and confide, "It drove me wild. I couldn't get the recurring thoughts and images out of mind for months."
Julia leaned back and took a good hard look at him, prompting him to swallow with uneasiness again. "Oh, we will have to remember this in the future," she stated. "Do you think I could fit in your trousers William?" she asked.
He glanced down at her enlarged belly and then back up into her eyes, answering, "Certainly not right now." She pouted. "She is so beautiful," he thought. "Come here," he requested, shifting to offer her his lap, which she happily climbed into, wrapping her arms around his neck and then peppering his face and neck with soft, playful kisses. He took her in his arms and then lowered them down into a prone position, tucking her safely between himself and the back of the couch, having learned from the time, not so long ago, when she nearly fell off of the couch. She rested her head on the bicep of his arm and reached up to undo a few more of the buttons on his shirt. "Careful," he warned, and she smiled and then stopped. He slid his hand down to her belly and encouraged, "I think all of that laughter was quite enough shaking for our little William Jr. or Susana, hmm?"
"That sounds wise," she granted.
After a time, William remembered, "Julia, I just realized that there was another hot-air balloon, not just after the time your book saved my life, but in my imagining of the future with the Dr. Harm's Time Machine too. My 1912-self demonstrated convection and density to our son – using a miniaturized hot-air balloon. Now, there would have been no way for Dr. Roberts to know the significance of hot-air balloons to me – to us!"
"True," she acknowledged, "But it could be coincidence, could it not?" she countered.
In the end, they agreed there would never be any PROOF that their love was meant to be. It would always have to be, "just a feeling," an awesome, magical, wonderful and delightful feeling.