Chapter 8

Julianna retreated to her room without being seen or heard. She crossed to the window seat but didn't reach for her diary. Instead, she sat down, leaned her head against the wall, and closed her eyes to listen to the sparrows chirping merrily while she let the conversation she'd just heard play in her mind.

She hugged her middle and tried to make sense of it all, but confusion reigned. She needed to talk to someone. Moving to sit at her computer, she flipped the switches to turn on her computer and Web cam. Moments later, she found herself saying a subdued "hello" to Michael.

"Hey," he said, turning so he could see her. "I waited for you last night."

"Sorry. I was so agitated, I spent half the night typing out my thoughts on my computer. I didn't go online. I didn't feel like talking."

"It didn't go well?"

"I tried, but I couldn't be as civil as I know my mom wanted me to be. Michael?"

"Yeah, Jule?"

"Tell me what you experienced, what you felt when your mom died. You never talk about it."

"Are you sure you wanna hear?"

"Yes. I need to know what to expect or at least what I may experience should my mom...well, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Should I be brutally honest?"

"Please."

"Okay, here goes. It's horrible, Jule. If your mom should lose her battle, it'll be one of the worst experiences of your life. You're gonna feel like shit. Probably for a very long time."

"How did you cope?" she asked, her mood darkening. "How did you survive the loss of your family?"

"I almost didn't. I got into some bad stuff after my mom and step-father died because I didn't care. I saw a lot as a kid about the way some adults handle bad situations in their lives, and I thought the way you let out your anger was by having tantrums, throwing objects, yelling at everyone around you until they did what you wanted them to do. I think I broke every vase, every glass, every dish in my grandmother's house. I yelled and screamed constantly. I didn't know what a normal tone of voice was. I had so much anger and resentment in me, Jule. I loved my mom, but she and I were not as close as I know you are to your mom. Let's just say, we had issues. Unresolved issues, unfortunately.

"My grandmother helped me, even when I didn't want to be helped. I had horrendous nightmares. My grandmother held me and stayed with me. She wouldn't let me go even when I told her I wanted to be alone. She kept telling me how much she loved me. She didn't give up on me. Neither did my dad. I didn't know it at the time, or much care, but I had a support system. They came to me because I certainly had no plans to go to any of them. I did what I wanted to do. I didn't care what they said or did unless they tried to stop me. Then I got angry. My family, and even some of my friends, saw the path I was taking, and they did everything they could, short of tying me up in my room so I couldn't leave the house to buy drugs, to help me. They encouraged me, Jule. They spent time with me, even though I hated hearing the things they had to say. They told me I could make it through the darkest period of my life. I guess, even for someone as dumb or as stubborn as me, their words began to sink in. I started to reach out more to them and not to the drugs I had been taking. I had to test what they were telling me. I had to know if they would really be there for me the way they'd said they would be. I had to have something to believe in. I'd been numb for a long time, Jule. I'd numbed myself because it was the only way I knew how to get through the day. But as time went on, I slowly let myself feel again. I hated it because I didn't like a lot of what I was feeling, but I knew it meant I was alive.

"It's not easy, Jule, and if, by some unfortunate twist of fate, you have to go through it, don't let anyone push you in your grieving. Only you know how you feel. No one else does. I learned that from a man who, believe me, knows what he's talking about."

"You sound very courageous and mature to me," she said. "I know it's been less than four years since you lost your parents. I admire you. I'm glad you're my friend, Michael."

"I'm kinda glad we hooked up, too."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Yep."

"I know you said you had a parade of fathers and uncles in your life. Did they do DNA testing on this father? Is he really your father?"

"Yes, he is. The true records were found from my birth, but we also did more testing. He is my father."

"Did you accept him right away? Did you feel any anger or resentment?"

"Nah. I could've been mad at my mother, but what good would it have done? After my mother's death, I got to know the man she claimed was my biological father but who she never let into my life. You know what I discovered? He's an okay guy. He helped me. He's the one I was talking about earlier who taught me a few things about not denying your feelings. When I first found out who my real father was, I didn't let myself think about him. I didn't know him, and finding out he was my father came at a time when I couldn't have cared less. But, over time, we managed to get to know one another, and at least we have a relationship. He's in my life, Jule, and I'm grateful and happy he is."

"My father seems sincere in wanting to help my mom. I'm so confused, Michael. I keep thinking things would be better if he just left us alone, but now...now I'm not so sure. My mom seemed really happy to see him. She asked him to stay over last night. She wants to talk more. I don't understand it. Why doesn't my mom care that he never called her? He obviously didn't think about her all these years. Is it fair that he just gets to waltz back into her life, and my life, and take over? I don't like this, and yet, I get the feeling he's not a bad guy. What should I do?"

"Just my opinion, 'kay?"

She nodded.

"I think you need to let him be there for you guys. Especially for your mom. She probably doesn't have time to feel resentment over the past, Jule. She's fighting for her life. I bet he feels pretty guilty."

"He doesn't act like it," she said, some of her unresolved anger coming through.

"Okay, so even if he doesn't feel guilty, at least he wants to help. Why would you not let him or not want him to?"

"You make me sound like a selfish brat. I hate this, Michael. But I can't help what I feel, can I?"

"Hey, you're the one who likes to analyze everything down to the last minute detail. Why do *you* think you feel that way? And you called yourself a selfish brat. I didn't."

"Sometimes I hate you, you know that?"

He laughed. "Yeah, Jule. I know. I gotta go. Catch you later?"

"Sure. Bye, Michael. Thanks."

"Anytime."

*~*

Still feeling overwhelmed, Julianna returned downstairs and saw A.J. sitting at the kitchen table, her mother's laptop in front of him.

"Good morning," he said when he saw her.

"Hi."

"Your mom is sleeping."

"I know. I just looked in her room. Did you eat?"

"Your mother and I had toast and tea. She told me where her computer was and that she wanted me to use it to check my e-mails."

She nodded and pulled a bottled water from the fridge. Positioning herself against the counter, she observed him as he worked.

"Your business must keep you very busy."

He stopped typing and turned to look at her.

"It does, but I love it. It doesn't feel like a job to me, most of the time."

"Do you have to work long hours?"

"Sometimes. It depends what we have going on. Would you like to see our Web site? I can show you what it looks like."

"Maybe some other time." Part of her felt guilty about wanting to keep her distance from him, but another part of her felt she had to in order to keep her sanity. "I have a computer in my room." She gave in to the pull to offer him an explanation. "I can see it there."

A.J. nodded. A few awkward moments passed with neither of them saying anything.

"I get the feeling you want to say something to me. Am I right, Julianna?"

"No," she said, a sudden need to leave the room enveloping her. "I'm going to see if the mail has been delivered."

She knew it was too early for the mail, but she needed space, so she stepped outside for some fresh air. She realized she didn't have to worry about her mother being alone in the house because she wasn't. Her father was there, and she knew he would help Keesha if she needed it. The thought struck her again. He would help them. They were no longer alone. Her mother had someone else in her life who seemed to care about her. Who would probably do things for her if she asked. The more she thought about A.J., the more real he became to her. For better or for worse and through no wish of her own, he was now a part of their lives, and she was going to have to get used to him. After all this time, the father she'd never wanted to know was a very real and commanding presence in her life.

She took a few minutes to walk around the block before she returned to the house. When she did, she heard A.J., in the kitchen, talking to someone. The words he spoke caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks to listen.

"I need you to work with me on this, Skye. Yes, this is part of the reason why I came to Philadelphia. No, I can't tell you who this is for, but I need you and a few others, maybe Elizabeth and Emily, to search our databases for doctors' names, hospitals, organizations, anything you can find out regarding liver transplants. I have access to my e-mail. Send me names, phones numbers, good contacts I can call. I need this information as quickly as possible. I know we have other projects going on, but I am making this a number one priority. Pass that along to anyone you recruit to help. If anyone there has questions about this or wants confirmation that I have issued this directive, tell them to call me on my cell or send me an e-mail. I'll answer them as soon as I can. I'm counting on you, Skye. I need this information ASAP. Keep in touch, okay. Thanks."

Julianna leaned against the wall in the hallway and closed her eyes. Her father had kept his promise. He'd told her mother he would call his office and he had. He had his staff gathering information for him at this very moment. He sounded so authoritative, so in control, so in charge of the situation. She never believed her father was that kind of man. From the little she knew and what she had schooled herself to believe, she'd formed a very negative opinion of him. She saw him as a weakling, a coward, a man who couldn't, or wouldn't, face up to his responsibilities. But, somehow, listening to him just now, she saw a man very different than the one she had built up in her mind. She saw a man who was not unreasonable but who expected his requests to be fulfilled. She imagined the workers in his office complying as swiftly as they could with his request, not because they feared him but because they respected him. What did that say about her? she asked herself. She knew she had shown her father little or no respect. Guilt consumed her as she realized she never planned to give him a chance. Never wanted to. She'd wanted to forget he existed. But now, now that he was following through with what he'd told her mother he would do, how could she continue to treat him as if he didn't matter to her? And yet, she knew, deep down, she was nowhere near ready to accept him as her father. And even if he managed, somehow, to help save her mother's life, she wasn't sure she would ever be able to call him "Dad."