Whispers of Refuge Box Set

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 23

Roger wrinkled up his brow. Juliette hadn’t acted normally since their first conversation about the hotel district two weeks earlier. He studied the way she picked at her greens. He thought back as far as he could and finally decided the last time she ordered a salad at a restaurant was right after she delivered Kennedy and wanted to get back to her pre-pregnancy weight, which still remained elusive almost two decades later. “Is that really all you’re going to eat?” he asked.

Juliette frowned into her plate. “I’m going on a diet. If I work at it, I figure I can drop ten pounds by New Year’s.”

Roger put down his rib and wiped barbecue sauce off his chin. “You know you don’t need to do that. You’re gorgeous just the way you are.”

Juliette took a sip of water. “I’ve decided it’s time to take better care of my health. Live to see our grandkids grow up. That kind of thing.”

Roger smiled. “Kennedy’s just starting undergrad, Baby Cakes. She’s got eight years ahead of her and then residency. I wouldn’t say you’re quite to grandma stage yet.”

Juliette shrugged. “I just want to be around when it does finally happen.”

Roger couldn’t argue with her logic, but somewhere in the back of his mind ran the truth he had discovered twenty-two years ago: A happy wife is better than a skinny wife. He reached for another rib. “What’s Eve doing this evening?”

Juliette poked at a cherry tomato. “It’s Benjamin’s night off, so she’s home alone.”

Roger was glad she could keep track of these things. There was no way he could remember all the schedules of their hired help. Roger was so busy at the office, it had taken him two weeks just to find time to take his wife out to a nice dinner. He hoped some time alone together would help Juliette out of her empty-nest funk. “What did you do today?” he asked, his mouth full of barbecue sauce and pork.

“Little of this, little of that.” She picked at a limp spinach leaf with her fork.

He rubbed his bald spot. “Well, that’s enlightening.”

From behind her glasses, a single eyebrow shot up. “You want me to spell it out? All right. I helped Eve with the laundry, we cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the bathrooms, uprooted some of the bulbs to bring them in for winter, wiped the windows, and then after that I read a little bit from my new novel and wrote Kennedy an email. Is that specific enough for you?”

Roger gulped down his Coke. If this is what he had to look forward to with Juliette on a diet, he’d take her a hundred pounds heavier. “How’s your salad?” he asked after a minute.

“Wilted.”

“I suppose that’s the point.” Roger forced a little laugh, but Juliette’s expression remained unchanged. “You did order the wilted spinach salad, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s what they called it.”

He finished his rib and mounted a calculated assault on his coleslaw. The American-style diner had only been in Yanji for the past two years. It wasn’t anything like the cuisine they were used to back in New York, but it was nice to get a taste of home, however fabricated it turned out to be. From a 50’s-style jukebox, Elvis crooned about his baby leaving while Roger devoured his side dish. “So, you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

The denial he expected didn’t come. Juliette put her fork down by her full plate. “Life sucks right about now.”

He was so taken aback by her abrupt reply, the best response he could manage was, “What’s the matter?”

Juliette tossed her crumpled napkin on the table. “I’m bored. There’s nothing for me to do. All I’ve got is a housekeeper who won’t leave me alone and a security guard who hardly says a word.”

“Maybe you could teach Eve to play the piano.” It was meant to be a joke. Back in New York, Juliette had spent three years trying to turn her pyromaniac, NASA-astronaut-wannabe daughter into a classical pianist by the time she started first grade. Roger realized as soon as the words escaped his mouth his response was ill-timed, to say the least. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not even waiting to hear Juliette’s objections.

“Forget it.”

“No, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” It wasn’t quite “I forgive you,” but it would have to be close enough.

Roger took another swig of Coke. “Is there anything I can do to help you get through this hard time?” There. That was better. “You want me to go to the hotel district and buy you another housekeeper? One who likes to garden?”

Juliette’s face dropped. Her throat constricted visibly. Roger wiped his mouth with his napkin and closed his eyes. Nice one. Juliette still hadn’t stopped talking about getting back into brothel-rescue work. And Roger had to agree with part of her reasoning. If Juliette had some other girls around, young women she could teach and pour into day after day, she would feel sense of purpose she had been missing since the graduates left. The problem with the plan — besides the fact his life had been threatened the last time he went into the hotel district — was he was the one who had to actually go and get the girls out. And frankly, business at the office had picked up so much he couldn’t spare the time even if he wanted to.

Which he didn’t. Still, it had been callous of him to make that kind of a comment. Roger looked at his wife, her hair about as wilted as her veggies, and sighed. “Tell you what. I’m going to make you a promise, okay?” He leaned toward her. “I’ll start praying about the hotel district. I’ll ask God to give us a really clear, really definite sign if he wants us to do that kind of work again. How’s that sound?”

Juliette took a sip of water, crossed her arms, and stared out the window.

***

Eve was glad to have the house totally to herself. The Sterns hadn’t been getting along with each other lately, so Mrs. Stern hadn’t been helping her husband out at his office as much. There was only so much baking and snacking Eve could put up with in a given two-week period. Job or no job, she had certainly maxed out on sweets and tea with her fat mistress.

She would have never thought she’d regret seeing all the Secret Seminary students shipped off over the border. Ironically, when the house was full, Eve had been able to enjoy more time alone. None of this brownie-making every single day. How anyone could actually enjoy the grainy texture or bittersweet aftertaste was a complete mystery. In some ways, Eve felt sorry for Mrs. Stern. The poor woman was clueless about so many things. Eve wondered if it would be pleasant to exist in such mind-numbing ignorance.

Eve picked up the Sterns’ phone — another perk of having the house to herself. She was sick of sneaking calls in secret. “It’s me,” she breathed once he answered. “Everyone’s out. Want to come over?”

***

“You’re awfully quiet.” Roger commented. It had been the slowest dining experience in Juliette’s recent memory. “You doing okay?”

Juliette had already decided if her husband asked her that question one more time before the evening was over, she would buy herself a plane ticket and spend the next eight years in Cambridge with Kennedy. Instead, she quickened her pace as they left the restaurant. “I’m fine.” Roger’s promise to at least pray about resuming brothel work was reassuring. It was the first step in getting her way, at least.

“Got some change, lady?”

Juliette frowned. She was used to pan-handlers soliciting her when she was out by herself, but she found it even more insulting to be addressed directly when she was with her husband. She lifted her chin and walked on without glancing down.

“You gots a pretty skirt. What’s it made of?” The old man reached out and grabbed the hem of her dress. When she couldn’t free herself right away, she nudged him with the heel of her shoe.

Once they were a few paces ahead, Roger chuckled. “Did you have to kick him?”

“I didn’t kick him. I just didn’t want him touching me.”

“Baby Cakes, you kicked him.”

Juliette scowled. “I wouldn’t have had to if you did it for me.” She felt her husband tense and for a moment regretted her words. “Maybe I should go apologize.”

Roger took Juliette’s arm in his. “Just forget it. I would have probably done the same thing if I were you.” Juliette would like very much to see that, but she didn’t say anything. If Roger were more proactive, if he were willing to go back to the hotel district, for instance, she wouldn’t be in such a slump. He was just too much of a pacifist, always worried about making a loving Christian impression. Some people respond to justice and the fear of God a lot more than love and wishy-washy kindness.

Juliette thought about the ragged old man, thought about turning around to make sure he wasn’t hurt, and then sped up her pace. It was getting late.