“Doug once said to me that we are all dying, that we die a little bit every day.”
“You’re splitting hairs, Laura, and you know it.”
Ignoring this remark, Laura asked, “Do you love him?”
“Yes, you know very well I do … as a friend. He’s always been perfectly wonderful to me, but I’m not in love with him, not as he is with me. Still, if I weren’t so ill, I’d probably give it a shot…. I mean, I’d live with him, see how it worked out….”
“Did you tell him this?” Laura asked.
“I told him I loved him, but perhaps in a different way than he loved me. And I said if I were in better health, I would be honored and flattered to be his permanent companion.”
Laura didn’t say anything. She sat back in the chair and let her eyes wander around her bedroom. Its pate apple-green walls were gentle, a cool backdrop for the heavy white cotton draperies patterned with red roses, the antique French country furniture, the big bed dressed entirely in white, and the dark green carpet.
“It is a charming room,” Claire murmured, following her friend’s gaze. “I’ve always liked it, and for as long as I can remember.”
“Most of your life and mine,” Laura whispered, and pushed down the sudden incipient tears that threatened to spill.
“Laura?”
“Yes, Claire?”
“There’s something … something I’ve never told you,” Claire began, and then suddenly stopped with abruptness. She sat staring at Laura, the dearest person in the world to her except for her daughter, and wondered how to go on.
“What is that?”
“I should have told you long ago. Perhaps my life would have been different if I had.”
“You sound very serious,” Laura remarked, returning Claire’s intense gaze. “And what do you mean when you say your life might have been different?”
“Maybe it wouldn’t have been so screwed up, and maybe I wouldn’t have been so screwed up either, so angry, so bitter and resentful….”
Laura seemed baffled. Slowly she said, “I’m not following you.”
“Do you remember how you sometimes found me here in your room, crying my heart out on that very bed, hugging a pillow?”
Laura nodded. “You never would tell me what was wrong.”
“I was crying because I was sick at heart. And I was clinging to the pillow as if I were holding on to you. My Laura. You were the only thing I had in my life that was good and decent.”
“Tell me what happened to you, Claire. Tell me what this is all about.”
“It was my father—” Claire came to a halt. She stared at Laura. Her face had turned chalk white, and she was unable to continue.
Laura rose from behind the desk and went and sat with Claire on the sofa. Taking hold of her hand, she held it tightly in hers. “Your father hurt you. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Claire could only nod.
“Oh, darling, why ever didn’t you say anything then? I could have helped you!” Laura exclaimed.
Shaking her head, Claire answered in a whisper, “How could you have helped me? You were only a little girl, younger than I. My own mother couldn’t help me.”
“Did she know?” Laura asked in a horrified voice.
“She tried to stop him!” Claire cried, anger surging through her. She endeavored to clamp down on it and continued in a calmer tone. “My mother wanted to protect me, to stop him. But he would beat her until she couldn’t stand, and then he would turn back to me. He started when I was seven, hitting me, as well as touching me, kissing me. I resisted him as long as I could … but he became more and more insistent … finally I gave in to him. I had to. It was the only way to stop him from beating my mother. It was easier just to lie there and be silent than to get her involved and see her so badly hurt. Occasionally, I would fight him off. He really had it in for me after that. He would beat me until I couldn’t move.”
“Oh, God, how terrifying for you! You must have been frightened to death most of the time.”
“I was.
“He was foul, awful. I hated him.” Claire began to weep. Tears trickled down her face as she continued. “But at least, once I gave in to him, he stopped hurting my mother.”
Laura put her arm around Claire and drew her closer, endeavoring to soothe her. “If only you’d confided in me and Grandma. We could have done something, I know we could.”
“I was afraid to tell you,” Claire gasped between her tears. “I was embarrassed. Ashamed. It was so sordid. Sometimes I thought it must be my fault. I was torn up. I didn’t know what to do. So I just concealed it, pushed it down inside, pretended it had never happened.” Claire began to sob uncontrollably, her body shaking as the dam of suppressed emotion finally burst inside her.
Laura held her closer, stroking her shoulders, saying gentle words of sympathy, giving Claire her love and compassion. Eventually, Claire managed to calm herself; gradually the tears ceased. She sat up, groped for a tissue in the pocket of her caftan, and wiped her eyes, striving for control.
Laura said, “Your father … Well, Grandma Megan once insinuated that your father was a womanizer, and that this was the reason why your mother drank. But she was wrong, wasn’t she? He was an abuser.”
“He was both, Laura. Please believe me, he was chasing after women all the time. It broke their marriage. And my mother’s heart, I’ll admit that. She found escape and solace in a bottle.”
“I’m so sorry,” Laura whispered. “I’m so terribly sorry you had to go through that alone, Claire, when you were so young. It breaks my heart to think about it.”
“I wasn’t alone, in a sense. Because I had you and Grandma Megan. And Grandpa Owen. You were my refuge. Just as this place was. Rhondda Fach was always my safe haven. I always felt secure, safe, and loved when I was here with all of you.”
“When did … when did he stop?”
“When I was fifteen I told him I was going to tell your grandfather, and ask Grandma Megan to take me to a doctor for an examination. So that she’d know I was speaking the truth. I finally realized I needed words—not fists—to stand up to him. He was scared of being exposed to the Valiants. It’s a pity I hadn’t understood that years earlier, because it would have been a weapon I could have used.”
“I think so, and I wish it had been different for you. I can’t believe I didn’t detect something was truly wrong. I know you cried a great deal, but I thought you were unhappy and worried because your mother drank such a lot of vodka.”
“I was a good little actress, wasn’t I?”
“That you were.”
“My father made me hate men, distrust them. He scarred me, and he ruined my life. I know I would have been a very different person if he hadn’t abused me. Laura, I was only seven when he started—” Claire’s voice broke, and she had to wait a moment or two before continuing. “I am sure I would have trusted Philippe, been a better wife, if not for my father’s abuse.”
Laura nodded. “I agree with you.”
Claire now explained. “Whenever Philippe had to go away on a trip, to do research, or be in quarantine for his work, I always believed he was really with another woman. Like my father had been. My father was a genuine womanizer. Anyway, I was constantly suspicious of Philippe. I was resentful and bitter as well, and I made a lot of mistakes with my husband.” Claire let out a heavy sigh and shook her head sadly. “I think that in many ways I treated Philippe unfairly. He’s not a bad man.”
“Is that why you’ve agreed to let him come and see you on Sunday? Because you know that you were also at fault in the marriage, and that he never was entirely to blame.”
“Partially. But also because Natasha is so eager for him to visit me. She longs for us to be friends. Lately I’ve come to understand that she loves her father.”
“Yes, I know that, Claire. She’s conveyed the same to me.” Laura cleared her throat and gave Claire a long, careful look. “Do you still believe Philippe had a lot of w
omen when he was married to you?”
Claire bit her lip, appeared chagrined all of a sudden. “Perhaps not. I’ve examined my life a lot in the last couple of weeks, and I realize how very damaged I was as a person. How could I possibly think straight with my history?”
“Your father’s behavior was monstrous! He’s responsible for all the mental anguish you’ve had to contend with since you were a child.” Laura sounded angry.
“That’s true. And he’s responsible for my cancer.” Claire sat up straighter and looked directly into Laura’s vivid blue eyes. “I mean that.”
“I know you do, and I tend to agree. You believe that your repression of all of this for so many years left you vulnerable to cancer.”
“His acts were reprehensible. The only way I could go on living was to bury them deep inside myself. But nevertheless, they still gnawed at me, destroyed me, turned me into an angry, distrustful woman. I was ravaged by a bitterness I couldn’t rid myself of. And at one point I was really consumed by the memories. But I managed to keep going somehow. I thought when he died I’d feel differently, feel better, but I didn’t. And the memories just ate at my innards … like a cancer.”
“It has been medically proven that mental and emotional stress, plus repression of strong emotional pain, can cause all types of illnesses in people. So I’m with you on that, Claire.”
“I feel a sense of relief at last, now that I’ve confided these things. Perhaps I might start healing … and in many ways.”
“I hope so. Didn’t you ever tell anyone about your father? Not even Philippe?”
Claire shuddered. “Oh, God, no. How could I have told anyone else except you? You’re the closest person to me, and look how long it’s taken me to speak about it to you.”
“If only you’d unburdened yourself sooner.”
“I should have.”
Laura said, “You look drained. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Thanks, that’d be nice,” Claire replied, and forced a smile.
It was true, she did feel very tired, sapped of all energy at the moment. And so Claire went and lay down on Laura’s bed, nestling herself in among the mounds of white pillows. How often she had done this as a child. Waiting for Laura, as she waited for her now, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, the scent of her perfume. Ma Griffe. Laura had worn it for years—a fresh green smell, that was the way Claire thought of it.
She had always longed to be part of the Valiants, for as far back as she could remember, part of that wonderful family and all the love that spilled out of them. Thankfully, they had taken her in, transformed her into one of theirs, and miraculously they had made her forget her father and what he did to her when she was at home. For a short while, when she was with them, she was a different person. And it was Laura who made her feel clean again, just like Laura was herself. Pure. Innocent. Untouched. A good girl.
Claire curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed and closed her eyes for a moment or two. Her thoughts ran amok in her head; but she managed to rein them in, take control of them again. She could not dwell on the past. She had to think of the present and the future. She knew she did not have much longer to live. She was dying.
She kept up the facade, going along with Laura and everyone else, agreeing that she had improved in health. It was true that she had been revitalized here at Rhondda Fach, that she had more energy all of a sudden. But she wasn’t getting better. The chemotherapy hadn’t worked. The doctors had told her that, confirmed what she already knew herself.
All of the things she had to do had been done. The only outstanding matter was the sale of the apartment in Paris. But Hercule would take care of that and transfer the money to Laura, who would put it in the trust account they had opened for Natasha. Her thoughts turned to her daughter. The miracle of her life. Her joy. Claire smiled, feeling warm inside, thinking of Natasha. She had gone out for a drive with Megan and Fenice. Actually, they had gone marketing; Natasha was planning a special dinner for tonight.
Claire took a deep breath, feeling unexpectedly dizzy. She closed her eyes once again. After a few minutes she saw her daughter’s face in her mind’s eye, so fresh, so young, a beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her. Claire was thankful Natasha had Laura to guide her, to look after her in the years ahead. I can die in peace because of my true-blue Laura.
Natasha had been very brave and courageous thus far. When Claire had told her that she had made Laura her legal guardian, there had been no problem. Natasha had said she understood. But later, from the things she had said, Claire realized there was a good rapport between the girl and her father. And so she had finally given in and said Philippe could visit. He was coming to see them the day after tomorrow. Somehow, she would get through it.
Hercule had told her that Rosa Lavillard had asked to see her. To apologize, that was the way he had put it.
Hercule believed it was important for Natasha to get to know her grandmother, and Claire wondered if he was right about that. In the end it would be up to Laura’s discretion though. After all, she was going to be in control. Just the way I wanted it, Claire thought to herself, and she pushed herself up on the bed as Laura came bustling in with the tea tray.
“Two mugs of Grandpa Owen’s famous coal miner’s tea!” she cried. “Hot and strong and sweet. And slices of chocolate cake, courtesy of Natasha. She made it this morning for you.”
“It’s my favorite,” Claire said, smiling. “And so is this tea.” As she spoke, she made an effort to get off the bed.
“Stay there, Claire,” Laura instructed, and hurried across the floor. She placed the mug of tea on the bedside table, along with a plate of cake, and then arranged the many pillows behind Claire. “There, that’s much more comfortable, isn’t it?”
“Yes, thanks, darling.” Claire took a sip of the tea and continued. “Hercule told me about Rosa’s request. Why does she want to see me?”
“She’s devastated about your illness, and she wants to come here and tell you how sorry she is that she wasn’t a good mother-in-law to you.”
“So Hercule was right. I tended not to believe him, Laura. So, she’s coming to apologize. Is that it?”
“Yes. Hercule was just repeating what I’d told him.”
“Could she come with Philippe this Sunday? I think I’d like to get them out of the way at the same time, if you know what I mean.”
“I do. And all right, I’ll arrange it, if you’re up to it on Sunday.”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll have Grandma Megan phone Rosa later.”
“They should drive up together,” Claire murmured, “that would be best.”
Laura stared at her. “You’ve certainly agreed very readily.”
Claire nodded. “I’ve had a sudden change of heart.” She smiled faintly. “I’m doing it for Natasha. That’s what this is all about really. And also for you, Laura. If I don’t get through this bout with cancer, you’ll appreciate having them around. And so will Natasha, of course. They’ll be supportive.”
“That’s exactly what Grandma Megan said to me.”
“She’s a wise woman, and she knows the way of the world. She’s certainly got everybody’s number … that’s why I believe her theory about Doug.”
“I didn’t know she had a theory,” Laura exclaimed, looking startled.
“She says she told you.”
“She never did. When did she do that? Did she say?”
“Yes, she told me she mentioned it to you when you first broke up. She said she suggested to you that there must be someone else, another woman, and that was the reason he was being so obliging about the apartment, and the other financial matters.”
“It’s true, she did say that,” Laura muttered, remembering, and went and sat on the edge of the bed. “Doug does have someone else, Claire. At least I’m pretty sure he does.”
“Did he tell you finally?”
“No. I guessed … and I guessed who it was.”
&n
bsp; “Who is she?”
“Actually, it’s Robin Knox.”
Claire was silent for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, and then she asked, “Are you sure?”
“All of the indications are there. And Robin’s fiancée broke off her engagement to him….” Laura’s voice trailed off. “in any case, we’re not married any longer, so what Doug does is his business. I gave him my blessing when we split up, and he knows I’m always there for him if he needs me. Just as he’s there for me. That’s the way we feel about each other, Claire. We’re good friends.”
“I know you are,” Claire said. “And it’s better it happened now, that you ended your marriage when you did. You’re still young enough to start a new life with another man.”
“I don’t know about that,” Laura said softly.
“You will, Laura, trust me, and in the not too distant future.”
Laura threw her an odd look but refrained from answering.
27
Rosa Lavillard sat very still in the chair near the bed, looking at Claire, wishing she were not so ill, wishing she could do something about making her feel better. But she knew she couldn’t; neither could Philippe, even though he was a brilliant doctor. Such a pity, Rosa thought. So young. She’s so young. Her heart filled with compassion, and it took all of her self-control not to start weeping for Claire.
Suddenly Claire opened her eyes, and smiled faintly at Rosa. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fade on you a moment ago.”
“Can I get you anything?” Rosa asked in a worried tone.
“No, thanks,” Claire murmured.
Taking a deep breath, Rosa said, “I was wrong, Claire, all those years ago. Very wrong to behave the way I did toward you. I should have attempted to understand you, tried to get to know you better, before I made any judgments about you.”
Claire blinked and shook her head. “Whatever your judgment was, it was more than likely correct. I was a very troubled young woman in those days.”
“I didn’t give you a chance, and that was unfair. I was being protective of Philippe. You see, I thought you wouldn’t understand the complexity of his nature, wouldn’t understand where he was coming from as the child of a Holocaust survivor.”
A Sudden Change of Heart a Sudden Change of Heart Page 27
