All The Way
Chapter 35
-Herbert Osmond's Ranch
Sheriff Samuel Winslow had been true to his promise; they had not seen the last of him. Armed with threats of a grand jury, depositions, searches and subpoenas, he had tried to divide and conquer the researchers and staff before officiously returning to Utah.
The remaining camp members had been released to their homes for further recuperation, only Hallie remained, her uncle faithfully holding vigil at her bedside. Finally, the doctors firmly requested Eliot take leave, insisting he could help his niece more by tending to his own recovery. Driving Herb's roomy station wagon, Amorita, the housekeeper, drove the silent and reluctant trio to the ranch where they bathed and slipped into more comfortable clothing. Eliot remained in his room resting, while Julia changed and Herb conferred with Amorita.
Politely, the housekeeper hinted the clothing had belonged to Herb's late wife, Patrice. The gray slacks and sheer peach V-necked blouse were too revealing for her tastes, but she politely thanked the housekeeper and dressed. Looking at her reflection, Julia did not recognize the woman in peach who stared back from the mirror. All her career she worked to minimize her sexuality, striving to appear professionally neutral. Brushing the auburn locks from her face, she felt conflicted. Why did she have to choose, why couldn't she be both? Staring at the dark circles forming beneath her eyes from too many sleepless nights, she knew the answer. Sex, love and emotions meant weakness…..vulnerability. Gently, she folded the scrubs from the hospital and squared her shoulders.
Walking through the kitchen, Julia thanked Amorita for the clothing and the hot coffee before moving out on the veranda to join the master of the house. The vine covered veranda faced out on a fur covered hillside and fast moving mountain stream. The walls, colors, and decorations had a feminine touch. Julia wondered if the feminine southwest veranda and home was Patrice or Amorita's influence or a blend of both.
Herb sat sipping coffee, completely relaxed in khaki pants and a red and black plaid shirt, staring off, deep in thought, when her approach caught his attention. Moving across the soft terra cotta tiles, Julia smiled and saw his face brightened, his dark eyes roaming over every inch of her from behind round glasses. Suddenly aware of how he was looking at her, he dropped his eyes. Politely, he stood and pulled out a chair for her.
Nervously, he cleared his voice. "For a moment, you reminded me of Patrice, my late wife. I apologize if my look was forward or suggestive."
Julia reached out and squeezed his hand. "You need not apologize, Herb. I look and feel dreadful; it is I who should be thanking you for the complementary ogle."
Herb relaxed. Later after coffee, he extended his arm to Julia for a leisurely stroll around his property. The ranch was the last homestead on a small, meandering road that hugged a narrow stream up the valley. Behind the sprawling house lay the stable and paddock. Thanking him for his tour, Julia asked if she could be alone for a while. She wanted solace and privacy for the release she felt she needed. Herb, the gracious host, left her with his horses and returned to the house.
Alone, Julia lovingly caressed the gilding's forehead, deep in thought.
She had been all that Sheriff Winslow had implied, she had been incompetent and was a liar. Denis Summerlin and all the others had mysterious injuries she should have investigated further. She should have been more thorough. And Richard, she wracked her brain trying to recall all the small details that had piqued her curiosity at the beginning and that she later ignored due to his arrogant and belligerent behavior. She wondered what demons and hallucinations had Richard been fighting all along? As a physician, she had sworn an oath to heal, not harm, but yet, she had used her medical knowledge to harm, in an effort to kill Richard. What's wrong with me? I've killed before, Dave Woodward, Hoffman….all in the name of love. My love for Barnabas…..my love for…Eliot?
Curled in the protective crook of the professor's arm, feeling the warmth of his body and hearing the rumble in his chest as he spoke, candidly, sharing his insights with her.
Running her fingers through the soft fibers of the hay, she lamented. Eliot had always been honest with her, sometimes with an honesty that made her angry…such as now.
Was Eliot correct in believing Richard was after something more grandiose than Anasazi blood work and had selected her, was using her? She knew what it was like to find someone, to use them for her own gain. Barnabas Collins and his blood disorder had piqued her curiosity and ambition. At least, that was how it started, before they began their own little game of control, each jockeying to use and manipulate the other. Over time, things had changed and her emotions had gotten in the way, she had crossed the line, she had fallen in love with her patient… Barnabas Collins. Her love for Barnabas had such power, a power to make her vulnerable and weak. She had lost control of her logical self and she hated it.
And now with Richard, she had made the same mistakes all over again. Did she or had she ever loved him? Or was he merely a replacement for Barnabas? Was Richard using her, or did he love her, or was he capable of such an emotion? Why had she been so blind? Why did she let so many things, so many emotions cloud her professional judgment? Would Sheriff Winslow keep his promise, was he truly not finished with her? Was she prepared for the consequences? Was she prepared to have all her secrets exposed to everyone?
Extending the flakes of hay to the mare and gilding she watched them quietly feed. As the hay disappeared from her hands, tears welled and trailed down her cheeks, slowly her shoulders began to shake. Stepping back, she sat on a bale of hay, buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Julia wiped the tears from her cheeks and gazed into Max's large brown eyes. She was hoping the quiet afforded by Herb's sprawling ranch high in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains would give her the peace she so desperately desired.
"Oh, Daddy," She whispered, "I need your strength, your wisdom."
The glow of the burning synagogue illuminated the horror in the eyes and faces of those scurrying by them on the street. Pulling her into an alley, her father lowered his face to hers and saw her cheeks glistening with tears.
"Julia," He whispered, capturing her eyes with his. "My darling, Julia, tears won't change the world. We must be strong, we must survive."
As he stood, her eyes adoringly followed the first man she would ever love. She squared her shoulders and wiped her eyes with her sleeves.
Later, the man in the blood-stained brown shirt, with the intense blue eyes would test her bravery, her will to survive.
"Yes, Daddy, I will be strong, I will survive." Julia whispered.
~~~tbc~~~