[Winterstruck] Deleted scene - Julia and Luke

This scene with Julia and Luke is from way back when the book was first drafted and titled ‘Shattered Ivory’. It give some insight into Julia’s relationship with her mother.

Here’s the unfinished scene with warts and all.

clear shattered glass on dark background

Luke was smiling, but I'd seen that smile before. It was filled with sarcasm and often made an appearance when we talked about his parents.  

"Let's book dinner with our parents so we can share our good news--"

"No," I said quickly. 

"No? You don't want dinner or you don't want to tell your mother about our engagement?"

"I do," I said quickly back-pedalling, "it's just she's awfully busy this time of year with fundraisers--"

"Then we'll book dinner for next week."

"Next week--"

"Or the week after." [Choreography] "I know you two don't exactly get along, but consider the alternative. How is she going to react if she finds out from someone else?"

Oh. Yeah, not good. But would she be so upset as to have me arrested again? 

He continued, "And you know how my mother is. . . " 

I pictured my mother hearing the news from his. Oh god. "Okay. I'll call her."

"I'll pass you the phone." He started to shift. 

"No, that's okay. It's late. I'll call her tomorrow."

"It's never too late to call family."

"I know you feel that way, but believe me, my mother insists if the phone rings after nine PM, it's an emergency. And if it's not an emergency, she will make it one." [Add example]

"Okay, then. Tomorrow. We could go see her in the afternoon. Tell her together."

There was the distinct possibility that in Luke's presence my mother's behaviour would be perfectly normal. But there was also a really good chance she would be herself. 

"I think I'd better handle this on my own," I said, "and ease her into it. I totally appreciate your offer, it's just that my mother can be a tad unpredictable."

"Yeah, remind me not to call her after nine PM. So, tomorrow, then?"

A lump formed in my stomach. "Tomorrow."

"Good. Do you think she'll take the news better if we involve her in the planning of the ceremony?"

"What?"

"With all the charity fundraisers she plans, I'm sure she'll offer anyway, but I thought if we give her a job to do, that might smooth things over."

"I don't know. Can't we just keep the ceremony small and to ourselves?"  Giving any part of the event over to my mother was guaranteed to turn the whole thing into an overly large extravaganza covered in lace and tulle. I had no desire to be made into a spectacle and put on display. All I wanted was a sweet, happy moment between Luke and me. 

"There's no reason for it not to be."

"If we give any part of this for my mother to plan, it will all slide downhill into an avalanche with my mother riding it on a gold-plated snowboard with a tiara on her head."

"Jules--"

"Let's say we let her pick out a DJ. Seems harmless, right? But my mother won't just go through the phone book or check on referrals. No, my mother will set up weeks of appointments for us to go to each DJ's place of business, she will demand to see their résumés, she will then proceed to interrogate them with at least twenty-questions that she'll have prepared in advance covering a wide-range of topics from their childhood upbringing to the finer points of their credit history and five-year business plan-- and finally she will inspect their equipment and vehicles-- with white gloves no less-- before leaving with a prospective list of music, if not a compilation CD."

"You're kidding."

"I wish. I made the mistake of asking to invite some friends over for my thirteenth birthday. Up until this point in my life, every birthday party consisted of a formal dinner, awkward conversation, and a guest list containing only relatives I saw four times a year. When I asked about having some friends over, my mother was all too delighted to plan the party for me. The next thing I knew, embossed invitations had arrived from the printer, personally addressed to each and every member of my entire grade, and I was being dragged through a whirlwind of appointments-- dress shops, hair dressers, caterers, cake tasting, shoe shops, and violin quartets."

"No way."

"Way."

"So what happened? Did you go through with her party?"

"We were in the middle of Hudson's Bay looking at crystal unicorns to send home as thank-you gifts to all the guests, when I finally worked up the courage to tell her all I wanted was a movie night with popcorn, and hey, a cake would be nice."

 My stomach knotted up with the memory that I'd long since tried to lock away like a ship locked in the Arctic tundra, but the feelings and images of that day bubbled up like hot lava and that ship was threatening to rise up to be carried away by an oversized helium balloon. I felt warm through my cheeks and shoulder blades. 

"How did she take it?"

"Fine at first. She started spouting off plans to rent chairs and a projector screen to put in the hall she'd rented for the shindig, but then I explained I really only wanted three of my friends to come over and the hall wasn't necessary and neither was the dress nor the shoes-- and that's when her composure went up in smoke and she launched into a loud rant about wasted time and money."

"She yelled at you in the middle of Hudson's Bay?"

I tried for a wry smile. "In the glass knickknack department."

"You didn't throw something at her did you?"

"Did I what?" I felt my cheeks grow hot.

"The look in your eyes-- you look like something really bad happened after that. Like maybe you made some of those ornaments fly--"

I wished the broken ornaments had been the worst of it, that all that happened was a typical mother-daughter disagreement. But it wasn't. What I couldn't tell Luke was that I'd been so mortified and so upset, my emotions and hormones had overloaded my teenage circuits.

[Hit by memory -- black spot -- can't quite remember but something happened -- image of seeing her reflection in a mirror and her hair had turned white, her eyes black]

"Oh. No. It was just really awful with all those people looking at me, and we were asked to leave, which just threw my mother into another rant… "

[Luke seems sorry he brought it up.] "So did you get the popcorn and movie, or was it a formal family affair?"

"Actually, I didn't have a party at all that year." My chest seized with anxiety and sadness. "As punishment for wasting time and money on the party I didn't want."

"Well, that's not going to happen this time. We're getting married. There will be a party."

"Then we're not involving my mother as anything other than a guest."

"That might be difficult, knowing my own mother and her need to be involved. She'll want to insert herself into all the mother-of-the-bride traditions. And if my mother's doing it, she'll want your mother to do it too."

"Like what traditions?"

"I've heard tell of wedding party group manicures and pedicures, mothers-of-the-bride-and-groom photo shoots, and matching their dresses to the wedding colours--"

I gaped at him. 

"I can't help that I'm an only child," he said. "Or that I wasn't the daughter my mother always wanted."

"That's it. We're eloping."

He chuckled. 

"I'm serious. Let's just get married at City Hall and tell no one. Then we'll throw a party so we can eat and drink and dance. That's all we need."

"The engagement party is already booked."

"What?"

"My parents booked it for a month from now. I'm sorry. They're just so thrilled, and they say it's tradition for the grooms' parents to host the engagement party--"

"No. That's perfect. We'll get married at City Hall and then celebrate at the engagement party."

[Luke's slightly uncomfortable reaction]

"Unless you want the big wedding with all the appointments and traditions and lace and tulle."

"No. God no. I have enough to do without all those appointments."

"Luke, what kind of wedding do you want? When you proposed, you must have thought about the wedding and what that would be like. What do you want?"

"As long as you're there and I'm there, that's all that really matters."

"So you're okay with eloping?"

"Well…I am."

"But?"

"My parents won't be happy."

"Luke, we're not getting married for them. We're getting married for us."

"I know. It's just they'll be angry they missed out--"

"They'll get over it."

"Maybe. Probably. You're right. It's our time. They had their wedding, now I can have mine, and if I want to marry you on a beach somewhere, just the two of us, I should be able to do that."

"On a beach?"

"With the waves and the sunset. Cliche, isn't it?"

"No, I think it's perfect. Let's do it. When will you have some time off?"

"I think I have a couple of free days two weeks from now."

"Perfect. I'll book it off as well. You arrange the flight and the hotel. I'll go down to City Hall to get the marriage licence."

"Isn't that traditionally the groom's job?"

"Are you saying you have time to go do it?"

"Do you?"

"I'll squeeze it between appointments or go to the office late. Would you rather I book the hotel and flight?"

"Heavens, no. I love you, Jules, but you're a klutz with a computer. You'll end up with the hotel booked in Vegas and the flight to Alaska. I'd much rather you got the licence." 

"I'm not that bad." I couldn't help arguing, even if he was right.

"Yes, you are." He leaned in and kissed me. "But we love you anyway."

"We can't all be brain surgeons."

"Research oncologist."

"Same diff."

He laughed. "It's really not."

"I really don't care." I silenced any further argument by covering his lips with mine.