The Sun and Moon and Stars

Chapter XV

Julian stood in the doorway, the hazy light of late afternoon shining through around his frame. Frances barely looked up from the table, where she was setting it for supper.

Jem sat in his chair while Rebecca chewed on her blanket on the floor. Winnie scurried around in her room, her footsteps scuttling about on the upstairs floors.

"You don't have to set a place for me," Julian said, just as Frances placed a cup at his regular seat. Her hand froze midair.

Julian shuffled his feet. "I'm not here for supper. I have an order due in the morning. I need to finish it as soon as possible."

Frances smiled grimly and snatched back the cup. She kept her eyes on his boots.

"I just came in for a cup of water," he said slowly, an explanation.

"That's fine." Frances piled the extra utensils on Julian's plate and returned everything to the cupboard. She kept the cup and filled it with water from the sink. As she handed it to Julian, their fingers grazed and she shot back. The water sloshed out of the cup and dripped down Julian's fingers.

Julian frowned and watched as she backed away.

"I'm sorry," was all she could muster.

"Papa!" Winnie flew into the room and crashed into her father. Julian chuckled and pretended to stumble back from the sheer weight of the little seven-year-old.

Winnie pulled away and glanced between Frances and Julian. "Are you having supper?" she asked her father.

Julian turned to Frances. She leaned on the back of a chair and tried to focus entirely on Jem, who knelt on the chair, his little arms crossed over the table and his upper teeth working furiously on his lower lip. His big brown eyes watched the scene, but there was little understanding behind them.

Julian looked down at his daughter. "Not tonight, Winnie. I have a lot of work in the shop."

Winnie pulled away, but nodded. "Okay." She slid into her seat at the table and copied Jem's countenance.

Julian sighed and then was gone, the screen door bouncing back into the doorframe.

Frances felt like she could finally breathe. Ever since that night—it had been four days—being in the same room as Julian was torture. Every time she looked at him, she could still feel his lips pressed against hers, his hair brushing against her forehead, the strong smell of trees...she couldn't place it anymore, though. Pine? Oak? Both aromas made her head hurt and her eyes burn with shame. She could barely spend any time outside the house; she needed the sharp sent of soap and the metallic odor of Helena's bloody spittle to keep her mind focused.

"Why doesn't Papa eat with us?" Winnie asked.

"He has work to do, Winnie." Frances said in what she hoped to be a reassuring voice.

"That's not why..."

Frances paced a bowl of food in front of the little girl. "He—" she couldn't go on. There wasn't a single thing she could say that would lift Winnie's spirits, truth or lie.

"I made a pie for desert," she announced, hoping to draw a smile onto the little girl's face.

Winnie's lips curled, but only out of politeness. "I think you're upset with him and he's upset with you."

Frances didn't know what to say. She didn't want to lie, but saying the truth wouldn't help anybody. Instead, she picked up Rebecca and placed her in her high-sitting chair.