by Vanished
“I certainly hope so. By the way, I'm going to Washington next week. Would you like to come?”
“To see your friends again?” He had important friends in the War Department, and he loved going to Washington to see them. He nodded. “About some important business I'm doing. And then I have an appointment with the German ambassador, about a project in Berlin.”
“You sound as though you'll be very busy.”
“I will, but you're more than welcome to come with me.” But she knew perfectly well that he would have no time for her there, and despite his invitation, she would only be a burden. And she had so much to do before Christmas.
“I'd really love to stay here and get organized. Would you be upset if I didn't come?”
“Of course not, my dear. It's up to you. I'll be back very quickly.”
“Maybe after the New Year,” she suggested, wondering if she was failing him, or if he'd be angry at her not going. She was always afraid of doing the wrong thing, or hurting someone, or letting him down, or not being wherever, or not doing something she should be. But where should she be? With Malcolm in Washington, or here with Teddy? Those decisions had become difficult for her over the last nine years, because if you made the wrong choice, it could cost you all you had. She had learned that lesson and paid for it dearly. “Is that all right?” she asked nervously.
“It's fine.' He was quick to reassure her. He kissed her good-bye then, and a little while later, she went upstairs to dress. And later that morning, as promised, she went out with Teddy. Miss Griffin had attempted to accompany her, but for once Marielle had been firm and told her that she and Teddy wanted to be alone for the morning. He was thrilled with what she said, and Miss Griffin was so outraged that, as Marielle and Teddy made their way downstairs, they heard the nursery door bang smartly behind them. Teddy only laughed, and Marielle smiled as she put his coat on, and Brigitte stopped to chat with them for a minute, on her way upstairs to see Malcolm.
“Are you going somewhere exciting this morning, Theodore?” She said it with her very slight German accent, and her eyes exchanged a warm smile with Marielle. Marielle had always felt that the two of them might have been friends, had circumstances been different. But Malcolm would never have tolerated Marielle befriending his employees.
“We're going to the park,” Teddy said proudly, glancing at Marielle with the full measure of his affection. And then, noticing the blue dress his father's secretary had on, he executed a little bow that brought a smile to Brigitte's lips. “I like your dress, Briggy. You look very pretty.”
The young German woman laughed, and blushed faintly. “Perhaps you will tell me that again in another twenty years, young man, yes?” Teddy looked a little baffled by the suggestion, as both women smiled. “Never mind, thank you very much. I think you look very handsome too. Is that a new coat?” It was the navy blue English coat with matching cap which Miss Griffin had ordered for him, and which he hated.
“No.” He shook his head matter-of-factly. “It's my old one.” And then he looked up at his mother. She had her fur coat on, and they were both ready.
“All set?” She smiled down at him and he nodded, and then stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Brigitte's cheek, noticing the faint musk of her perfume.
“Have a good time, Theodore.” She waved, as he left, hand in hand with his mother, and he turned back once for a last wave at Brigitte.
It was freezing outside, as it had been the day before, and she decided to have Patrick drive them up Fifth Avenue, to bring them closer to the boat pond. Teddy chatted all along, and as they walked into Central Park from Fifth, Marielle was telling him about Paris when she lived there. Malcolm loved telling him about his trips to Berlin, and she knew that Miss Griffin was always rhapsodizing to him about England.
“One day we'll go on a trip to Europe, on a big ship, like the Normandie,” and then she told him all about that, as he listened to her wide-eyed.
“Will Daddy come too?” The idea of a trip on a ship really thrilled him.
“Of course. We'll all go.” She loved going on trips with him. She hated leaving him behind, which was one of the reasons why she didn't like traveling with Malcolm and was relieved that he seldom asked her,
Teddy looked thoughtful as they walked along hand in hand, the wind bitter cold on their faces. His nose was red and her eyes watered but they were well bundled up in coats and hats and scarves and mittens. “Maybe Daddy will be too busy,” he said with regret, and Marielle tried to reassure him.
“No, I'm sure hell come if we take a trip like that.” She tried to sound lighthearted as she said it. But he, was right, Malcolm was always busy, especially lately.
“Maybe we could meet him in Berlin, if he's too busy to come with us,” Teddy said with a matter-of-fact air. He was so bright. He noticed everything. Even that Malcolm did a lot of business with the Germans. It was why Brigitte was so useful to him, and probably why she had lasted for six years in his office. She was incredibly efficient, as well as nice, and his dealings with Germany seemed to have tripled over the years of their marriage.
“Maybe we could go to London too,” Teddy added out of kindness to Miss Griffin. “And we could see Big Ben, and the Tower of London …and Buckingham Palace …and the King!” He seemed very impressed by everything Miss Griffin had told him and Marielle smiled as they walked along and finally reached the boat pond. But there was a thin layer of ice on it today, and she felt a shiver run through her. Marielle pulled the child close to her, as though something evil waited for them there, and pulled him away from it very quickly.
“There's no one here today. Let's go see the Carousel.” But she was very pale in the chill wind as she said it.
“I wanted to see the boats.” He looked so disappointed.
“There are none.” She was looking frightened, but he was too young to know it. “Come on …let's go;”
“Can we walk on the ice?” he asked, fascinated by the thin crust that lay across most of the boat pond, but she pulled him away even harder. “Never, ever do that, Teddy, do you hear me?” He nodded, startled by the vehemence of her reaction. It was then that she looked across the ice, and thought she saw him. It seemed impossible this time, as though her mind were playing tricks on her again. Maybe she was finally going mad. Maybe coming here today, to the pond, with its thin veil of ice on it, had been too much for her. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though to clear her vision, and then opened them again, very quickly.
“We're going home.” Her voice was a croak of terror as her eyes darted between Teddy and the man she thought she saw across the lake, as though she were still not sure of what she was seeing.
“Now?” Teddy looked as though he might cry. “We just got here. I don't want to go home. Can't we go to the Carousel?”
'I'm sorry …well go for a drive …the zoo …tea …maybe the skaters …” anything to get away from here. As she stood there, her whole body began shaking. But as she tried to lead the child away, the man she had seen ran as fast as he could around the lake, coming toward them. And as he reached her, his black hair was disheveled, his eyes looked wild, and she saw with dismay that she knew she hadn't been mistaken. As Teddy saw the look on his mother's face, he was suddenly frightened. His mother had always instilled in him a vague terror about strangers, and this one looked particularly dreadful. He was tall and disheveled and he seemed to swoop down on them breathlessly, and without warning, he grabbed both of Marielle's shoulders in his hands, looked her in the eye, and then stared down at Teddy. But at least she knew now she wasn't mad. She hadn't dreamed him. It was Charles, and then she remembered how close the boat pond was to the Delauney mansion. He had had a long drunken, sleepless night himself, and had come out for some air to sober up before a meeting with his father's lawyers.
“What are you doing here?” He looked at her, and then at the boy. “And who is that?” There was something of Andre in his face, and yet he was so different. There was something alm
ost angelic about this child's face, it was a face you wanted to kiss, with eyes that made you want to laugh the moment you saw him.
“This is Teddy,” she said quietly, her voice still shaking.
“Teddy who?” He stared at her accusingly, and she suspected instantly that he was not entirely sober. “This is Teddy Patterson.” She straightened her chin and looked Charles in the eye. He couldn't do this to her, couldn't make her feel guilty again, couldn't ruin her life … or could he? …”My son.” Teddy held tightly to her hand wondering who the man was. He thought he looked pretty scary.
“You didn't tell me that yesterday. You only told me about Malcolm.” His eyes bore into hers so hard it was almost painful to meet his gaze, but nonetheless she met it. She was braver than Malcolm thought. But Charles had always known that.
“It didn't seem the time or place to tell you.”
“Why not?” He was accusing her again. He was angry at her. “Why didn't you tell me?” She knew his anger too well. It was the same anger which, nine years before, had almost killed her.
“It seemed unfair to tell you about him yesterday.”
“And now?” His eyes were furious and his face was right next to hers, as Teddy watched in terror. In a minute, he was going to scream, if he could, if only to protect her. “Is it unfair?” Charles asked again, this time louder, seeming very drunk now. But she was calm, and in total control. She had Teddy with her, and she was not going to let Charles hurt them. No matter what had happened in the past, he no longer scared her. She could not let him.
“I don't think we should discuss this now.” She pulled Teddy closer to her, and gently touched his face so he wouldn't be afraid. But it only seemed to make Charles more angry. He was still such a striking-looking man, and she still felt weak in the knees when she looked at him, but he seemed so out of control now.
“Why do you have a child?” He shouted at her as she tried not to flinch, so she wouldn't frighten Teddy. “What do I have?”
“I don't know …your battles in Spain …your beliefs …your friends …your writing …if you have nothing else, perhaps that's a choice you made.” She was desperate not to discuss it in front of Teddy, but she was afraid just to walk away and make Charles even more angry. She held tightly to the child's hand, trying to give him courage with her pressure.
“That's a choice you made, seven years ago when you left me,” Charles shot at her. “You made that choice for me. We could have had more children.”
“We have to go now.” She began to cry as she said the words and Teddy stared at them, wondering what it all meant as she spoke to Charles again, this time more softly. “What kind of life could we have had? You hated me, and you were right then, I hated myself too …maybe I always will …but Charles, I couldn't have stood it. I couldn't have looked you in the eye, knowing how you felt about me.” She had told him all that seven years ago, before she left Europe.
“I told you I wanted you back,” he said stubbornly.
“It was too late then.” She took a breath and wiped her eyes, forgetting Teddy for an instant. “I think you'd always have blamed me, just as I blamed myself.”
She had still loved him in some ways, but she could never have stayed with him, not after what happened.
Charles looked down at Teddy then, as though he still could not believe he even existed. He was a beautiful child, in some ways, even more beautiful than Andre. And then Charles looked at Marielle again, wanting desperately to hurt her. “You don't deserve this,” he raised his voice to her, and for an insane moment, he wanted to slap her. Why had she married again? Why did she have this child? Why in God's name had she left him? But they both knew why, and perhaps it could never have been any different. “You don't deserve him,” he said with the cruelty she still remembered. It was the other side of their great love, the side that had battered her before she left him.
“Perhaps not.”
“You shouldn't have left me.”
“I had no choice. If I'd stayed, it would have killed me.” And he knew that was true too. They had both gone more than a little crazy. She with attempted suicides, he with his wild attack on her the night it happened. But they had both been so mortally wounded by what had happened.
“Perhaps we would all have been better off dead. …” There were tears in his eyes now too, as Teddy drew even closer to his mother.
“That's a terrible thing to say.'
“For you, maybe …you have a life now … a husband … a child. And why should you? Why should you, dammit, when I still wake up every day thinking of him …and of you …wishing I had died with him. Do you ever think of him? Do you ever remember … or is it all forgotten?” But as he said the words, fury suddenly raged in her eyes. Fury born of years of pain and anguish, about which Charles knew nothing.
“How dare you? There isn't a day that I don't remember, that I don't think about him …that I don't see his face if I close my eyes … or even yours. …” Just as she had seen them the night before as she lay sleepless, remembering, fighting herself not to call him. “But nothing is going to bring him back, no matter how badly we destroy our lives now, or each other. He's gone …he's at peace …perhaps it's time for us to be at peace too.”
“I will never be at peace without you.” He raged at her, looking young again, and this time she smiled at him, and shook her head. In some ways, despite the fact that he was older, he seemed even more childish. He hadn't gone on, hadn't grown, hadn't healed, he had just stayed there, doing the same crazy things he had done as a boy, playing the expatriate, fighting other people's wars, and in some ways, hiding from being a grown-up.
“That's a stupid thing to say. You don't even know who I am now. Or maybe even who I was then. Maybe it would have all died a normal death anyway, if things had been different.” She looked down at Teddy then, and smiled at him, and pulled him close beside her. “Teddy, this is an old friend. His name is Charles, and sometimes he acts a little crazy, but he's a nice man. Would you like to say hello?” Teddy shook his head firmly and hid in the folds of her fur coat. They had spoken much too freely, but at four, a lot of it had missed him. The tone hadn't, the anger, the passion, but the history was too complicated for him to follow.
“I'm sorry if I frightened him.” He looked briefly remorseful, but still like a madman. He hadn't shaved since the day before, and everything about him looked wild and woolly.
“You should be. And for what? Can you really hold this against me?” He looked at her and then at the boy long and hard, and when he looked back at her, the look in his eyes hadn't mellowed. Instead he frightened her more, and he seemed even drunker. For the first time in a long time, she knew real terror. It reminded her of the bad times when Charles had become a stranger.
“He should be mine. By all rights … he should be.” He was staring hard at Teddy, hidden in her coat, and Marielle looked at Charles firmly.
“But he isn't yours, Charles.”
“What right did you have to move on … to do this … to have a child without me?” As he said the words, his fury seemed to be growing.
“You agreed to the divorce, I had every right.” She refused to be bullied.
“You said that if I didn't, it would kill you.”
“It nearly did.” And they both knew she meant it.
“I'd rather you were dead than have this child without me.” His eyes were like daggers into her heart as he said it, and she shrunk back from him, frightened and disgusted, wondering how she had ever loved him, reminded of how irrational he could be, and why she had left him.
“Charles, stop it.” He reached out and grabbed her arm then, and Teddy let out a small shriek and jumped behind her. “You're frightening the child. It's not fair. Stop it!”
“I don't give a damn. He's mine … by all rights, he should be.”
“Stop!” She spat the word at him, no longer afraid of him or anyone as she wrenched her arm free. She was not going to watch her life fall around her. �
�He's not yours, and neither am I …and Andre wasn't ours either. No one belongs to anyone else in this world. We all belong to God, and we're here on loan to each other …and when the loan is up, it's over …and it's terrible …and it hurts like hell …and sometimes it comes much too soon …but we didn't own him …you didn't own me, or I you …and I don't own Teddy.”
“You love him, don't you?”
“Of course I do.”
“And he loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you have that, and I have nothing?”
“Maybe because I'm lucky. Or maybe because Malcolm felt sorry for me … or maybe just because that's the way it is, or I'm willing to pay a price you aren't.”
“And what price is that? What price did you pay to marry him?” She had married a man she didn't love and who didn't love her and she knew it. It was not as easy as one might have thought. But it was also something Charles would never even have considered doing for a moment. “What exactly did you give up when you married him?”
Hope …love …tenderness …the kind of love and passion they had once shared …the kind of love that she knew existed. “Everybody gives up something when they get married.” Out of loyalty to Malcolm, she would never have told Charles the truth. “Perhaps I gave up the past.”
“I'm deeply impressed by your sacrifice,” he said scornfully, glaring at her through the booze.
“I'm deeply impressed by your behavior. You're as bad as ever.” He had upset Teddy and her, and they had resolved nothing. There was nothing to resolve anymore. It was over. “There's no reason to do this to me, or yourself. What do you think you're going to accomplish?” But he was staring at Teddy again, and the way he looked at him made her nervous. He was like that when he drank. It had happened in the old days too, he would drink too much and stay drunk all night and the next morning, and finally go more than a little crazy. He had destroyed an entire hotel room once, and a bar, and a restaurant, and nearly killed two men … and her, but only once. Only once …but she knew what he was capable of. It was hard to forget it.
