Charlaine Harris - The Julius House

“Oh, not until you all are back,” Shelby said. “Martin wanted us to be sure everything kept on going while you were gone, and that’s what Angel and I intend to do.”

“Oh… that’s wonderful. Thank you,” I said from the bottom of my heart.

They both looked uncomfortable and glanced at each other.

“It’s our job,” Angel said, with a little shrug. A little shrug on Angel was a pretty large gesture.

I had to relax them before I left. “Now,” I said briskly, “the carpenter building the bookshelves here in the hall is supposed to come this afternoon, but he’ll get his wife to call with some excuse, about 12:30. So tell him that if he doesn’t come in to finish the job, we’ll hire someone else tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Shelby nodded. “And who will we call tomorrow? Or am I bluffing?”

“Bluffing. He’ll come in today, but he just needs prodding. He likes to go fishing.”

“So do I,” Shelby said. “I feel for him. Well, go on if you have something else you need to be doing. We’ll handle things here.”

“Thank you,” I said again, and I meant it just as much.

That evening we had scheduled another session with Aubrey. I got to St. James early, but Aubrey was already there, sitting on the steps of the church. He was watching the sun go down, a little ritual he liked to observe every now and then. I plopped down by him, glad to sit and let my brain rest for a little bit.

After our hellos, we slumped together companionably for a few minutes, thinking our separate thoughts, watching the splendor unfold to the west. Aubrey had a wonderful quality of restfulness, the inner relaxation of a man who is square with the world and its maker.

“Martin’s not early, for once,” Aubrey observed, after a while.

“No… guess he had a meeting.”

“I think he usually comes early because he doesn’t want to leave you alone with me.”

“You think so?”

“Could be,” Aubrey said neutrally.

“He knows I love him,” I said.

“He knows other people love you.”

I mulled that over.

“You’re implying that he’s extremely jealous?”

“Could be.”

“Do you like Martin?”

“I admire him. He has many fine qualities, Roe. I don’t think you’d pick a man who didn’t. He’s intelligent, strong, a leader. And he obviously loves you. But you’re going to have to stand up to him on everything, every point, not let him get the upper hand. Once he has that, he won’t be able to stop.”

“This is a surprise, Aubrey.” I watched an ant toiling across the gray concrete of the sidewalk.

“I care about you. Of course, I care about everyone in this congregation, but you’re a special person to me, and you know it. In these counseling sessions, I’ve seen how much Martin loves you and how much you love him, and I’ve seen that both of you believe in God and are trying to lead the good life. But Martin feels he is a law to himself, that he and God are each autonomous.”

We were sitting with our knees almost in our faces because the steps were so shallow. I leaned my head down on my knees, felt their hard caps and the movement of my muscles underneath, the amazing way my body worked. I was trying not to feel scared.

“You’ll perform the wedding?”

“Yes. And I’m not saying anything to you I won’t say to Martin. I just wanted to talk to you because I felt I was being prevented from doing it. And because I’ll always be fond of you.”

“Are you going to marry Emily?” I was being impertinent, but the evening and the quiet of the neighborhood around the church encouraged intimacy.

“We’re thinking about it. She hasn’t been a widow very long, and her little girl is still trying to understand her daddy’s absence.” Emily’s husband had been killed in a wreck the year before, and she’d moved to Lawrenceton because she had an aunt living here.

Emily Kaye was dull as dishwater, but of course I wasn’t going to say that to Aubrey. At least my intended was exciting.

And here he came in his Mercedes. Martin was groomed to a T even after a long day at work, his striped shirt still crisp, his suit unwrinkled. My heart gave its familiar lurch at the sight of him, and I sighed involuntarily.

“You’re really in love,” Aubrey said very quietly, as if to reassure himself.

“Yes.”

I smiled at Martin as he got out of the car and came toward us, and he didn’t look jealous or even uneasy at Aubrey and me sitting tкte-а-tкte. But he pulled me up by my hands and gave me a kiss that lasted too long and was almost ferocious.

“I’ll go unlock the office,” Aubrey murmured, and rose from the steps.

“Your friends got in today,” I told Martin.

“Shelby called me. What did you think of Angel?”

“I’ve never met anyone like her, or like Shelby, for that matter.”

“What do you mean?” We began walking down the south sidewalk to the parish hall where Aubrey’s office was, the dusk gathering around us. I could see the desk lamp shining through Aubrey’s uncurtained window.

“Well,” I said slowly and carefully, “they seem used to having very little, to needing very little.” I was uncertain how to phrase my next thought. “They’re very quick to understand your wishes and act on them, and they don’t reveal anything about themselves, about what they want. Oh, gosh, that makes them sound like a maid and a butler, and they’re anything but that. But do you see what I mean?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, and I was afraid I’d offended him.

“They’re very independent, and very capable of making quick judgment calls, Angel even faster than Shelby maybe,” Martin said finally. “But I understand you. Shelby has never been one to talk about himself, and I was sure he’d marry someone who talked nonstop, but he married Angel. She’ll tell you more about herself than Shelby will, but she isn’t any chatterer.”

“They’re going to be great help with getting the house finished,” I said carefully, when it became apparent Martin wasn’t going to volunteer any more-like, who were these people? Where had they come from, and what had they been doing there? Why were they willing to be in Lawrenceton, doing what they were doing here? “It’s a relief knowing they’re there.”

“Great, honey. I wanted you to get some quiet time before the wedding. That house was running you ragged.”

Ragged? I felt the urge to pop in the nearest women’s room and stare into the mirror, suddenly terrified I’d see crow’s feet and gray hair. Normally I am not morbidly self-conscious about my appearance, but the fittings for the wedding dress and the fuss over clothes in general for the past couple of months had made me very aware of how I looked.

“They took notes,” I told Martin absently. “I think they’ll do a great job.”

“I want you to be happy,” he said.

“I am,” I told him, surprised. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”

Then we were at the door to Aubrey’s office, and we joined hands and went in. Our last session before the wedding, and Aubrey wasn’t going to make it easy. He asked hard questions and expected honest answers. We had gone over what we expected from each other financially, emotionally, and in the matter of religion. And we had talked again about having children, with both of us unable to decide. Maybe indecision wasn’t good, but it was better than holding opposing views. Right?

The counseling sessions had opened vistas of complexities I’d never imagined, the little and big adjustments and decisions of sharing life with another adult human being. It was the “working” aspect of marriage I’d somehow missed when my friends talked about their married lives. Martin, who was more experienced by reason of his previous marriage, had mentioned Cindy in the course of the sessions more than I’d ever heard him mention her before. Especially since I’d met Cindy, I listened carefully. And this evening, Aubrey asked Martin The Big Question.