The Art of Saying Goodbye - Ellyn Bache [11]
Bill shifts in the doorway and seems to be struggling to hold his ground. “You’ve been seeing Doug a couple of years now.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Three. Why?”
“I was just wondering if you had— Do you have any plans in the works?”
Bill sounds so uncomfortable that instead of getting angry, for an instant Julianne is pulled out of herself and laughs. “How did we get on to the subject of Doug?”
“It’s been almost ten years since you and I separated,” he says. “The boys are pretty much grown.”
The laughter retreats from her throat. “I’m aware of that.”
“You know how much I admire you for sticking with them all these years. Going to school. Working. When I heard you and Doug were serious—”
“You heard we were serious? Where? From Toby?”
Bill shrugs. “I just want you to know that if you decided to make an announcement, I wouldn’t object.”
As if she needs his permission! As if he himself hadn’t moved on years ago, married Joyce, had another child, lived his life!
“Well, thank you.” She senses that he doesn’t in the least detect the note of sarcasm in her voice.
Now he’s studying the newly sanded hardwood entryway so intently that Julianne thinks he’s about to criticize the finish. “You’ve worked for Peter a long time,” he says to the floor. “You do pretty much the same thing every day.” Determinedly, he lifts his eyes to meet Julianne’s. “You’re good at it. Peter says you’re a treasure. But aren’t you bored?”
“Bored? No. Of course not.”
What’s he saying? That her job is so dull that when something dramatic and unexpected happens, as it did with Paisley, she behaves unprofessionally? Not so!
“Besides, you were the one who got me the job,” she tells him.
“Yes, but that was six years ago. The idea was that you’d keep it while you were deciding what to do with your nurse-practitioner credentials, and then you’d move on.”
True enough. Peter Dunn was Bill’s colleague, a respected foot surgeon. He’d understand if she left once she’d made a career decision. The offer had seemed so generous, on both Bill’s part and Peter’s, that she’d accepted.
“It’s just that I never thought you’d stay there this long,” Bill says.
“Neither did I. But I didn’t count on Will”—their oldest—“needing tutoring in calculus, or Joe going through that grumbly, throwing-things-around phase after he didn’t make the golf team at school. All that took up a lot of time and energy. I wasn’t thinking about looking for other jobs.” She cocks her head coyly, hoping to hide her irritation at needing to explain herself at all. “I guess I got hooked on foot ailments. What can I tell you?”
Bill doesn’t respond right away. More than any other man she knows, Bill has mastered the art of speaking softly and in a level tone, no matter what. He has become a man who can pull his mask off after surgery and tell the anxious family, “Well, we didn’t get it all, but I think with chemo and radiation he might do well.” Not be fine. Not recover. Just do well. The family wouldn’t hear bad news. They would hear the soft voice, the mellifluous tone, the air of quiet authority. Nine times out of ten, they wouldn’t ask questions. They would never sue.
And Bill was a genuinely good surgeon. So why did Julianne so resent the demeanor that keeps him out of trouble?
He draws a long, resigned breath. “I know what a job the boys were. But that was years ago. They’re all right now. Toby’s no trouble, is he?”
“No.” The ache behind her eyes is beginning to feel like a hangover. “I think I’m going to turn in, Bill,” she says. “You look tired yourself.”
“Yes. Busy week.” He turns to go, then swivels back. “Will you think about it, Jules? About how you really feel about the job?”
“Sure.” He’s the only one who’s ever called her Jules. She hates it. She feels like he’s issuing a warning, or maybe a command.
“Thanks for taking Toby to dinner,” she calls when he finally heads down the walk. “See you next week.”
He nods, always the gentleman, but she’s trembling when she closes the door. She wants to be free of him. Has she ever