Matt's Thanksgiving had been at the opposite end of the spectrum from theirs. He had been prepared to ignore it, as he always did, or had for the past six years. He worked on Pip's portrait, and was pleased with the results. And then made himself a tuna fish sandwich. He liked doing everything he could to prove to himself it wasn't Thanksgiving Day. Even a turkey sandwich by coincidence would have been an affront. And he was washing the plate he'd eaten the sandwich on when he heard a knock at the door. He couldn't imagine who it was. He was expecting no one, and his neighbors never bothered him. It had to be a mistake. He thought of ignoring it, but the knock was persistent. So he finally strode to the door and pulled it open, and stared at the unfamiliar face. There was a tall young man standing there with brown eyes and dark hair, and he had a beard. The odd thing was that the face wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him. He realized with consternation that he had seen that face, in the mirror, years before. The experience was entirely surreal. It was like looking at himself. He had even had a beard at the same age. It was like looking at the ghost of Christmas past. And then the man spoke, and Matt felt a lump rise in his throat.
“Dad?” It was Robert. The boy who had been twelve the last time he saw him. His only son. Risen from the ashes of his life. Matt said not a word, but pulled him close to him and held him so tight he could hardly breathe. He had no idea how he had found him, or why he was there. Matt was just grateful he was.
“Oh my God,” Matt said, loosening his grip on him, unable to believe it had finally happened. He had always believed they would see each other again one day. He didn't know how or when, but he had always sensed that they would. “What are you doing here?”
“I go to Stanford. I've been looking for you for months. I lost your address, and Mom said she didn't have it.”
“She said what?” They were still standing in the doorway, and Matt waved him in with a puzzled expression. “Sit down.” He waved him at the weathered leather couch, and Robert sat down and smiled. He was as pleased as his father. He had promised himself he would find him, and he had.
“She said she lost track of you when you stopped writing,” Robert said quietly.
“She sends me a Christmas card every year. She knows where I am.” Robert looked at him strangely, and Matt suddenly felt sick.
“She said she hadn't heard from you in years.”
“I wrote to both of you for four years after you stopped writing, you and Vanessa,” Matt said, looking stricken.
“We didn't stop writing, you did.” Robert looked shocked.
“No, I didn't. Your mother said you didn't want me in your lives anymore, you only wanted Hamish. I'd been writing to you for three years by then, with no response. Eventually, she asked me if I'd let him adopt you, and I wouldn't. You're my children, and you always will be. But after three years of silence from you, I finally gave up. It's been another three years since then. But your mother and I always stayed in touch. She said you were both happier without me in your life, you and Vanessa, and wanted it that way. So I let you be.”
It took the entire afternoon to piece all of it together, but it was obvious what had happened, once each told the other their part of the story. It was obvious that Sally had withheld his letters, and told them he'd stopped writing. She had told Matt that his children no longer wanted contact with him. She had seen to it that Hamish replaced him, and possibly even lied to her new husband about it. She had cleverly and maliciously cut Matt out of their lives, she thought, forever, and cheated him of his children, and them of their father, for six years. It had been cleverly done, almost brilliantly, and had succeeded for the past six years. Robert said he had been looking for him since September, and finally found him three days before. It had been his Thanksgiving gift to himself to drive over and surprise him. His only fear was that Matt would refuse to see him. He had never understood why his father had abandoned them, and was afraid that he wouldn't want to see him now. He had never expected the reception he got or the story he had just heard. They both cried when they realized what had happened, and they embraced each other again and again as they sat beside each other on the couch. It was dark outside by the time all the mysteries were solved. And Robert showed him a picture of Vanessa, who was a beautiful, blond sixteen-year-old girl. They called her a few minutes later, Robert knew where she was, and for her it was three in the afternoon.
“I have a surprise for you,” Robert said mysteriously, overwhelmed by what he was about to do, and there were tears in Matt's eyes, as they held hands. “I've got a lot to tell you, and we'll talk about it later. I'll explain everything. But there's someone here who wants to say hello to you.”
“Hi, Nessie,” Matt said gently, and for an instant, there was silence on the other end of the phone, as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Dad?” She still sounded like a little girl to him. She sounded just as she always had, only a little more grown up. And in a minute she was crying too. “Where are you? I don't understand. How did Robert find you?…I was always so scared you had died and no one knew. Mom never knew anything. She said you just disappeared off the face of the earth.” But not as far as she would have liked. What a vicious thing to do. And all the while, she'd been cashing his support checks and sending Christmas cards.
“We'll talk about it sometime. I didn't go anywhere. I thought you did. Robert will explain later, and so will I. I just wanted to tell you I love you… I've wanted to tell you that for the last six years. It looks like Mom played a little game with all of us. I wrote to you guys for three years and never got any answers.” He at least wanted her to know that.
“We never got your letters,” she said, sounding confused. It was a lot for any of them to absorb. A heinous crime had been committed by the mother they trusted, and the woman he had once loved.
“I know. Don't say anything to your mother. I'll talk to her about it myself. I'm just glad to talk to you. I want to see you,” he said hungrily. “I'll come over soon. Maybe we can all spend Christmas together.”
“Wow! That would be so cool.” She still sounded like an American kid, and a slightly older version of Pip. He wanted Pip and Ophélie to meet them too.
“I'll call you in a few days. We have a lot of catching up to do. You look gorgeous in the picture Robert showed me. You've got Mom's hair.” But fortunately not her heart. Or her twisted mind. He couldn't believe that the woman he had loved and been married to had cheated him out of his own children for six years. He couldn't think of anything worse. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had gone through her head. He had a lot to say to her, but he wanted to cool off first, or he knew he wouldn't even be coherent. He was going to call Hamish too. He assumed he'd been part of her plot, but Robert didn't seem to think he was, and still insisted he was a nice guy. At least he'd been decent to them. But what Sally had done was unforgivable. And he knew he never would.
He and Vanessa talked for a few more minutes and then she talked to Robert, and he tried to explain as much as he knew. It sounded incredible to them too, but Robert believed his father. He could see in his eyes that it was the truth, and he could also see what it had cost him. There was a depth of pain that Matt hadn't been able to hide in years, even from his son now. Seeing that, and knowing what had happened put Robert's relationship with his mother on the line, which was hard for him too.
Matt and Robert talked for hours and were still talking when Pip called about her mother. Robert listened intently to the exchange.
“What was that all about?” he asked, wanting to know everything about him now, including who his friends were and what his life was like.
“A widow and her daughter. Apparently, some-thing's wrong.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” Robert asked with a smile as Matt shook his head.
“No, she's not. We're just friends. She's had a tough time. Her husband and son died last year.”
“That's too bad. Do you have a girlfriend?” Robert asked with a grin. He was so happy just bein
g there, he wanted to soak it all in. Matt had given him a sandwich and a glass of wine by then, but Robert was too excited to eat or drink.
“No, I don't have a girlfriend.” Matt laughed. “Or a wife. I'm a recluse.”
“And you still paint.” He saw the portraits of himself and his sister, and then stared at the one of Pip. “Who's that?”
“The little girl on the phone.”
“She looks like Nessie,” Robert said, looking intently at the painting. There was something mesmerizing about her eyes, and touching about her smile.
“Yes, she does. I painted that as a surprise for her mother, for her birthday next week.”
“It's good. Are you sure her mother's not your girlfriend?” There was something about the way he talked about her that made Robert suspicious.
“Absolutely sure. Now what about you? Do you have a wife or a girlfriend?” Robert laughed in answer and told him about his current love, his classes at Stanford, his friends, his passions, and his life. They had six years to cover, and cruised through midnight as they sat talking for most of the night. It was four A.M. when Robert fell into Matt's bed, and Matt slept on the couch. Robert hadn't intended to spend the night, but couldn't bring himself to leave.
And when he woke up in the morning, they started talking again. Matt cooked him bacon and eggs, and at ten o'clock Robert said he had to go, but he promised to come back the following week. He had plans for the weekend. Matt said he'd come down to see him at Stanford during the week.
“You'll never get rid of me now,” Matt warned, looking happier than he had in years. And so did Robert.
“I never wanted to, Dad,” he said gently. “I thought you'd forgotten us. The only way that I could explain it to myself was I thought you had died. I didn't think you'd stop writing for any other reason. I knew you wouldn't just walk away, no matter what. But I just had to know for sure.” He had used all kinds of ingenious means to find him, and his efforts had finally borne fruit.
“Thank God you found me. I was going to contact you and Nessie in a few years, and find out if you'd had a change of heart, and wanted to see me again. I hadn't given up, I was just waiting.” And there was the whole issue of what to say to Sally. But more importantly, what could she possibly say to him to explain what she had done? And what could she say to her children? She had deprived them of their father, and lied to all of them. It seemed an unforgivable sin, not only in Matt's eyes, but in her son's. She had a lot of reckoning to do. And justifiably, they would never trust her again.
Robert left reluctantly, finally, at ten-thirty on Friday morning. It had been the best Thanksgiving of Matt's life, and he couldn't wait to tell Ophélie and Pip. But he had to see what had happened to Ophélie first, and how she was. He dialed their number only seconds after Robert left. Matt felt like a new man, or the man he had once been. He was a man with children again. There was no feeling like it in the world. And he knew Ophélie and Pip would be happy for him.
Pip answered the phone on the second ring. She sounded serious, but not upset, and reported to him in an undertone that her mom seemed okay, or at least better than the night before. And then she went to tell Ophélie Matt was on the phone and wanted to talk to her.
“How are you?” he asked calmly when she came to the phone.
“I don't know. Numb, I think.” She didn't offer more.
“You had a hell of a night. Are you coming out?”
“I'm not sure.” She sounded indecisive and still shaken. But he was fully prepared to come into town if she wanted, it would have been harder the night before, with Robert there. But he would have, if necessary, and even brought his son with him. He could hardly wait to tell Ophélie and Pip what had happened.
“Do you want me to come in? It might do you good to come out here. We can take a walk on the beach. Whatever you prefer.”
She hesitated as she thought about it, and she had to admit, the idea appealed to her. She wanted to get out of the house, and away from everything that reminded her of him. She wasn't even sure yet what she was going to tell Matt. The whole thing was degrading, so shameful and humiliating. Ted had betrayed her, with her best friend. It had been the cruelest of all tricks, and Andrea had even been prepared to use Chad to destroy her. Ophélie knew it was a blow she would never recover from, nor forgive. And she knew Matt would understand that too. He had the same feelings about loyalty that she did.
“I'll come out,” she said softly. “I don't know if I want to talk. I just want to be there, and breathe.” She felt as though she couldn't breathe in the house, as though her lungs and her chest and her ribs had been crushed.
“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'll be here. Drive carefully. I'll make lunch.”
“I'm not sure I can eat.”
“That's all right,” he said gently. “Pip will. I have peanut butter.” And pictures of his children to show them. Robert had left all the pictures he had in his wallet. They were the best gifts Matt had had in years. He felt as though someone had returned his soul. The soul his ex-wife had tried to destroy. But she never could. And for him, the healing had already begun. He couldn't wait to go down to Stanford to see him again the following week.
It took Ophélie longer than usual to dress and drive over. She felt as though she was moving under water, and it was noon before he heard them drive up. Things were worse than he thought, or maybe they just looked worse. Pip looked solemn, and Ophélie was visibly shaken and pale. She didn't even look as though she'd combed her hair. It was exactly the way she had looked when Ted first died. It was a familiar sight to Pip, who ran to Matt and threw her arms around him. She clung to him like a drowning child.
“It's okay, Pip… it's okay… everything's fine.” She clung to him for a long time, and then walked into the house with the dog. He looked at Ophélie then, and saw her eyes. She didn't move. She just stood there, without saying a word. And he walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulders, and together, they walked inside. He had put the portrait away, and Pip was looking around, wondering where it was, with a shy smile. Their eyes met conspiratorially, and he nodded, as though to tell her that it was all in good order, and done.
He made sandwiches for all three of them, and Ophélie never said a word all through lunch. And then sensing that she was ready to talk to him, he suggested to Pip that she take Mousse for a walk on the beach. She understood, and a minute later, she put on her jacket and they left. Matt didn't say anything. He just handed Ophélie a cup of tea.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry I was such a mess last night. It was a rotten thing to do to Pip. I felt like Ted had died all over again.” He had figured out that much, he just didn't know why it had happened.
“Was it the holiday?” She shook her head. She didn't know what to say to him, but she knew now that she wanted to share it with him. She walked over to where she had left her handbag, pulled out An-drea's letter, and handed it to him. He hesitated, holding it, wanting to ask her if she was sure she wanted him to read it, but he could see that she was. She sat down across from him at the table, with her head in her hands, as he began to read. It didn't take him long.
And when he had finished, he looked at her, and said not a word. Her eyes were bottomless pools of pain, and now he knew why. He reached out and took her hand, and they sat that way for a long time. As she had, he had figured out that the letter was from Andrea, and the baby was Ted's. It wasn't hard to figure out. But a great deal harder to live with, and understand. The cruelty of the timing was excruciating, that she should find out now after his death, and to learn that Andrea had used Chad to coerce Ted, if he even needed to be coerced.
It took Matt a long time to speak. “You don't know what he would have done. The letter makes it pretty clear that he hadn't made up his mind.” It was small consolation now. He had still had the affair with her best friend, and fathered her child.
“That's what she said,” Ophélie said, feeling wooden again
. Her whole body felt like it was made of lead.
“You talked to her?” He looked stunned.
“I went to see her. I told her I never wanted to lay eyes on her again, and I don't. I never will. She's dead to me now, just like Ted and Chad. And I guess our marriage was dead too. I just didn't want to see it, just like he didn't want to know that Chad was sick. I had denial too. We were all stupid and blind, each in our own way.”
“You loved him. That's allowed. And in spite of this, he probably loved you too.”
“I'll never know now.” That was the worst of it. The letter had robbed her of the belief that Ted had loved her. It was a cruel trick.
“You have to believe he did. A man doesn't spend twenty years with a woman if he doesn't love her. He may have been flawed, but I'm sure he loved you, Ophélie. In spite of this.”
“He might have left me for her.” Although, knowing Ted, she wasn't sure, not even because he had loved her, but he didn't love anyone that much. Except himself. He might have left Andrea with his baby, and done nothing for her. It would have been possible for him. But it still did not mean that he had loved his wife. Perhaps he had loved neither of them, that was entirely possible too. “He had another affair years ago,” she told Matt in a stifled voice. She had forgiven him. She would have forgiven him anything. Until now. And this time they could not fix it, or talk about it, or explain. She had to live with it this time, all by herself. There would be no repairing it this time. The fabric of their entire life together had been torn to shreds in a single night, with one letter, and a betrayal by a friend. Damage beyond repair. “He had the affair when Chad first got sick. I think he hated me for that. That was his revenge. Or his escape. Or the only way he could cope. He did it while I was in France with Pip. I don't think he cared about the woman. But it nearly killed me. It was a lot happening at once. But he stopped seeing her. I forgave him. I always did. I forgave him everything. All I ever wanted was to love him and be his wife.” And all he had ever loved was himself. Matt could see it clearly, but didn't say a word to her. She had to come to her own conclusions and be able to live with them. Matt didn't want to wound her any more than she was. And the damage to her was so great, he didn't want to hurt her more. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Ophélie or Pip.
Safe Harbour Page 24
