Chapter 58

Michel yawned and opened his eyes.

Mon Dieu, what a headache. Is this a hangover? It’ s been so long since I’ve had one, I’ve forgotten. How much did I have to drink anyway? Not enough to kill me, apparently—damn it.

He stared at the ceiling. Something was wrong. It looked strange. It took a full minute for him to realize why.

It’s blue. My ceiling’s not blue. It’s white.

Without sitting up, he looked around the room. The furniture was in the wrong places.

This isn’t my room.

Pushing back the coverlet was too much of an effort. He lost his balance, nearly toppling as both arms flailed, a hand striking something soft and yielding.

“What the hell…?” Michel rolled over and froze as he saw who lay next to him. Julie? Signeur Dieu dans le ciel! I’m in bed with Julie. What have I done? And what’s Luc going to do when he finds out?

Awakened by his movement, she stirred and yawned. “Oh, you’re awake. Good.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He began a stumbling flurry of apologies. “Whatever I did…I didn’t mean to do it. I was drunk. God, did I hurt you?”

“Relax.” She smiled, patting his shoulder. “You collapsed in the hall, went into shock and Luc brought you in here because Clarice didn’t want you in your room.”

“My darling wife.” His lip curled. “Her concern touches me.”

He winced as he sat up. Pulling back the covers, he looked at his right leg. There was a large quarter-shaped bruise on his thigh.

“Did Luc give me an injection?”

She nodded.

“He never could give a decent shot.” He touched the bruise gingerly. There was a knot inside it.

Staggering slightly, he attempted to stand, but as Julie tried to steady him, he waved her away.

“Don’t. I can manage. Where are my clothes?” My clothes. Dieu, I’m in my underwear. In horror, he looked down at the bikini-like brief, the same style Luc wore. Michel clutched at the sheet, pressing it against his crotch. “Oh, God.”

Silently, Julie slid off the bed, found his slacks, and handed them to him. Dropping the sheet, Michel took the trousers from her. Balancing perilously on one foot, he pulled them on.

“I guess,” he said as he zipped his fly, wishing she’d look anywhere except directly at him. “There nothing I can say at this point that won’t be incredibly embarrassing for either of us.”

“Oh, Michel.” It was the tone a mother would use with a charmingly naughty child. She put her arms around him and hugged him.

Michel relaxed slightly.

“Are you going to be all right now?”

“I imagine so,” he assured her. “I’ll go to my own room and finish sleeping next to my overly-concerned wife, and in the morning, I’ll be fine.” Scooping his boots off the floor, Michel aimed himself at the door, attempting to walk a straight line.

Julie opened the door.

Luc was sitting on the floor opposite the door, the decanter from the study in his hand. Setting it down, he got to his feet a little unsteadily as Michel came out.

Neither spoke.

Luc watched as his brother, clutching his boots to his chest, made his wavering way down the hall and disappeared into his bedroom. Once the door was shut, he stalked into his own room, slamming the door.

“We’re going to talk, Julie.”

“Not now, Luc. I’ve very tired, and you appear to be very drunk.” She inhaled deeply.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I didn’t spend three hours sitting in front of this door to be turned away because you’re tired. As for my being drunk, if you’ve taken care of one tonight, you can take care of two.” He’d apparently rehearsed this speech in his mind because he stopped, seemed to waver slightly, and finished, “Besides, I’m not that far gone. We’re going to finish this. Now.”

“It is finished, Luc.” The gaze she turned on him was so steady and unemotional he was shocked. “I had a lot of time to think while I waited for Michel to wake up, and I’ve decided what I’m doing to do.”

“You’ve decided? Well, I may have a few things to decide, too.”

“No. You don’t,” she replied. “Not a damned thing. I’m leaving you. I’m taking Merry and I’m going and I’m not waiting until the baby’s born to get a divorce.”

“Julie, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” she flung at him. “We’re finished, Luc, but we were never really begun, were we?”

“Julie…” I can’t let her leave. Not because of Clarice. Not because of that jealous bitch.

“Don’t say anything. You’ll just make it worse.”

She sounded so tired, as if even her soul was weary. Even in his anger, Luc felt a stab of worry.

“I’m not letting you walk out of here and take my child away.” He recovered from his shock, anger setting in.

He took a step toward her, towering over her. Julie backed away. He thought he saw fear on her face.

“I’ll fight you, Julie.” It sounded childish, a threat a bully would make. “I’ll get custody. My son stays at San Souci.”

“Do you really think there’s a judge in this parish who’d award you custody after he hears what you’ve done? I don’t think so.”

“Damn it, Julie, I love you.”

“I doubt that…you don’t know what love is.”

He forced his voice to be quieter, trying to hide the panic in it. “Please. Let’s talk it over.”

He reached out, trying to take her hand. All he succeeded in doing was catching her wrist.

“We can’t,” she said, looking pointedly at the way his fingers grasped her forearm. “Not now. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

Julie pulled away and stepped back, out of reach of those fingers. She was well aware how tightly they could squeeze.

“In fact, at this moment, I don’t even want to be near you.” She turned to the veranda door. “I’m going outside.”

“Julie, don’t go out there!”

* * *

Clarice had left the micro-refrigerator open. Luckily, the syringe container wasn’t on the counter. Michel stared thoughtfully at the box of syringes before he carefully closed the little fridge and went back into the bedroom.

Clarice was asleep, a misshapen lump in the bed. She hadn’t awakened when he came in, nor when he went into the bathroom. Michel studied her in disgust.

Just one injection. That’s all it’d take. A single pinprick and it’d be all over for you, Clarice…you and that bastard you’re carrying. And no one would ever know.

He found himself wanting to do exactly that. For a moment he actually struggled not to go back into the bathroom and take one of the syringes and actually do it.

Settling himself in the chair by the table, he sat in the dark, watching his sleeping wife. I’d better not get too near her or I might be tempted to get rid of my scruples long enough to kill her.