Free Aurora 04 - The Julius House by Charlaine Harris Page A

Roe, since you’re going to be married. But I wondered if you wanted to share your feelings about why your previous marriage didn’t work out. Have we covered anything in these evenings together that rang any bells?”
    Martin looked thoughtful. His pale brown eyes focused on the wall above Aubrey’s dark head, his hands loosened the knot of his tie. “Yes,” he said quietly, after a few seconds. “There were some things we never talked about, important things. Some things I liked to keep to myself.
    I don’t like to think about the woman I love worrying about them.”
    My eyes widened. My mouth opened. Aubrey shook his head, very slightly. I subsided, but rebelliously. I would worry if I damn well chose to; I deserved the choice.

    “But,” Martin continued, “that wasn’t the way the marriage could survive. Cindy ended up not trusting me about anything. She got sadder and more distant. At the time, I felt that if she had enough faith in me, everything would be okay, and I was resentful that she didn’t have that faith.”
    “But now?” Aubrey prompted.
    “I wasn’t being fair to her,” Martin said flatly. “On the other hand, she began to do things that were calculated to gain my attention . . . flirt with other men, get involved with causes she had very little true feeling for ...”
    “And you didn’t communicate these feelings to each other?”
    “It was like we couldn’t. We’d been talking so long about things like Barrett’s grades, what time we had to be at the PTA meeting, whether we should install a sprinkler system, that we couldn’t talk about important things very effectively. Our minds would wander.”
    “And now, in your marriage to Aurora?”
    “I’ll try.” He glanced toward me finally, apologetically. “Roe, I’ll try to talk to you about the most important things. But it won’t be easy.”
    As we were leaving, Aubrey said, “I almost forgot, Roe. I was visiting a few members of the congregation who live in Peachtree Leisure Apartments yesterday. We were in that big common room in the middle, and an older lady came up to me and asked if I was the minister who was going to conduct the ceremony for your wedding.”
    “Who was she?”
    “A Mrs. Totino. You know her? She said she’d read the engagement notice in the paper. She wanted to meet you.”
    “Totino,” I repeated, trying to attach a face to the name. “Oh, I know! The Julius mother-in-law! I heard at the shower that she was still alive and living here, and I’d completely forgotten it.”
    “I never met her when I bought the house. Bubba Sewell ran back and forth with all the papers,” Martin said.
    “Is she in good health, Aubrey?” I asked.
    “She seemed pretty frail. But she was full of vinegar and certainly all there mentally. The old gentleman I was visiting says she’s the terror of the staff.”
    I pictured a salt-and-peppery little old lady who would say amusingly tart things the staff would quote to their families over supper.
    “I’ll go see her after the wedding,” I said.

Chapter Six
    LATELY I’D been feeling as if I were in one of those movies where calendar pages fly off the wall to indicate the passage of time. Events and preparations made the time blur. Only a few things stood out clearly when I thought about it later.
    The night we were riding home from the barbecue Amina’s parents held for us, out at their lake house, Martin finally told me where we were going on our honeymoon. He had asked what I wanted, and I had told him to surprise me. I had half-expected the Caymans, or perhaps a Caribbean cruise.
    “I wanted you to have a choice, so I’ve made initial preparations for two things,” he began, as the Mercedes purred down the dreadful blacktop that led to the state highway back into town. I leaned back against the seat, full of anticipation and barbecued pork.
    “We can either go to Washington for two weeks, and do the Smithsonian right.”
    I breathed out a sigh of