****
Juli woke early on Sunday, the second day of the New Year.
She left the drapes open at night because she liked to watch the dark horizon. The stars might hang low and bright, or the moon might paint highlights on the restless ocean. In the thin line of the horizon, an anonymous vessel might be seen passing, visible by its red and white lights. It was almost hypnotic.
She was a morning person. She welcomed the early rays of sunshine allowed in by the open drapes. On this winter morning, those rays only hinted at dawn.
She shifted position to move onto her other side, resting one pillow longwise and pushed up against her side to provide some support for her belly. Baby belly. Baby bulge. Everyone had a cutesy name for it. She rested her hand on the side of her tummy, then tugged the coverlet up around her chin, determined to sleep late. But sleep had fled and the bedside clock was staring her straight in the face.
It was seven a.m. Plenty of time if she wanted to give church another try.
Leaving the draperies open provided less insulation from the winter cold. She could feel the chill air on her cheeks. She was warm and snuggly right where she was.
But her bladder was full.
She groaned, then slowly began making the adjustment, limb by limb, from the cozy land beneath the blankets, into the cold room. Ah, but here was her robe at her fingertips. Luxurious warmth, she wrapped it around her, slipping her arms into the sleeves as she crossed the room.
Business attended to, she was no longer sleepy. Second day of the New Year? It sounded right for a second trip to church. The visit had worked well last week. Sort of.
She said out loud, “I’m tired of having these arguments with myself. I always seem to lose the discussion.” Her hand was rubbing her belly. Was she talking to the baby? A little soon for that. Or, maybe not.
As before, she arrived shortly before the service began and went into the foyer, accepted a bulletin from the usher at the door and slipped into the back pew. She flipped open the hymnal to the first song, Blessed Assurance, and was pleased to recognize it from the Alan Jackson CD Ben had enjoyed so much. The small print in the hymnal said it was written by a lady named Fanny Cosby. Interesting. Juli had never heard of a songwriter named Fanny Cosby.
She was less on edge during this service than the week before. A few people had given her an extra-long look and she knew Pastor Herrin might have spotted her even though she was seated way in the back. The dark-haired woman in red—Juli was sure she’d met her when she came with Ben, but she couldn’t recall her name.
As the closing prayer was spoken, Juli gathered her coat and purse, ready to roll. Yet, when Amen was said, she didn’t jump up and scoot. It was silly behavior and made her more conspicuous. She was an adult and could answer for her choices, including choosing to be polite instead of scuttling away like some sort of lower life form.
She waited as Pastor Herrin made his way up the center aisle. He was heading for the foyer where he would shake hands with the congregation as they left. She remembered him doing that when she came with Ben. But this time, when he reached the back pew, he stopped. He reached out and took her hand.
“Thank you for coming.” He continued on.
She’d delayed too long and the crowd was gathering as they passed through the open doors to the foyer. She hesitated to push her way into the knot of people. The dark-haired woman in the red sweater stopped.
“My name’s Nancy. You won’t remember me from before, but I wanted to say hello. It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Bradshaw. Juli?”
“Yes, thank you.” She stood and walked into the aisle, into the opening Nancy had created for her by pausing. She felt comfortably anonymous again, and used the crowd as an excuse not to reach the pastor, but to continue on out the door.
One more small step. She started the car, glad to note she was more relaxed this week. Not so bad. Not bad at all. Maybe next time she’d be a little friendlier. Maybe she’d bring Ben’s Bible and try to follow along with the sermon and spend less time planning her departure.
For one crazy moment—one heart-stopping breath—she turned to her right, to the passenger seat, expecting to see Ben. She was already smiling at him, ready to laugh at her foolishness, but even before the turn of her head was complete, she knew he wasn’t there.
She felt him though, even if it was only the warm memory of him still at home in her heart.
Chapter Thirty
The rental management company rep called. “Mrs. Bradshaw? Hi, this is Marisa and I’ve got good news.”
The relationship with the management company, while pleasant, had thus far not led to chummy phone calls, so this must be very good news, at least for the management company.