“Hi, Matt,” she said easily, and offered him a chair and a martini. She remembered that he had always loved them, although he no longer drank them. But this time he accepted.
She made one for herself too, and sat down on the couch across from him, and the first few minutes were inevitably awkward, but the martinis helped them. And predictably, it didn't take long for either of them to feel the chemistry between them. Or she did, what Matt felt was subtly different. He couldn't identify the differences yet, but he knew that somehow, at the core of his feelings for her, there had been subtle mutations, and he was relieved.
“Why didn't you ever remarry?” she asked, playing with her olives.
“You cured me,” he said with a smile, admiring her legs. They were as good as they always had been, and the short skirt gave him an impressive view of them. “I've been living like a hermit for the past ten years. I'm a recluse…an artist …” He made light of it, and had no desire to make her feel guilty. It was his life now, and he was comfortable with it. In fact, he had come to prefer it to the life they'd led.
“Why do you do that to yourself?” she said, looking concerned.
“Actually, it suits me. I've done what I wanted to in the world. I've proven everything I want to prove. I live on a beach and I paint… and talk to stray children, and dogs.” He smiled to himself, thinking of Pip, and thought of Ophélie suddenly, who in her own way, was far more beautiful than this woman. They were infinitely different in every possible way.
“You need a life, Matt,” Sally said gently. “Do you ever think of going back to New York?” She had been thinking of it. She had never liked Auckland, or New Zealand. And now she was free, to do whatever she wanted.
“Never. Not for a minute,” he said honestly. “Been there. Done that.” Thinking of Ophélie, even for a minute, had somehow helped him return to his senses and maintain distance from her.
“What about Paris or London?”
“Maybe. When I get tired of being a beach bum. I'm not there yet. When I do, maybe I'll move to Europe. But now that Robert will be here for the next four years, I'm more motivated to stay.” And Vanessa had told him she wanted to go to UCLA in two years, or maybe even Berkeley. He wasn't moving anywhere for the moment. He wanted to be near his children. He had been cheated out of them for long enough, now he wanted to soak up every moment he could with them.
“I'm surprised you're not bored with all that, Matt. The life of a recluse. You were pretty jazzy in the old days.” And the art director of the biggest ad agency in New York, with a lot of powerful, important clients. He and Sally had chartered planes and houses and yachts to entertain them. But he no longer had a hunger for it, hadn't in a decade.
“I guess I grew up at some point. It happens to some of us.”
“You don't look a day older.” She tried another tack, since the others weren't working. She couldn't see herself living in a beach shack with him, that really would have killed her.
“Well, I feel it. But thank you, you don't either.” In fact, she looked better than ever, and a little more weight suited her and gave her a slightly more voluptuous figure. She had always been too skinny in the old days, although he had liked it. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked with interest.
“I don't know. I'm trying to figure that out. It's all so fresh.” She hardly looked like a grieving widow, and wasn't. She looked more like a liberated felon. Unlike Ophélie, who had been ravaged by the death of her husband. The contrasts between the two women were enormous. “I've been thinking about New York,” she said, and then looked at him shyly. “I know it's a crazy idea, but I've been wondering if …” Her eyes looked deep into his, and she didn't finish. She didn't need to. He knew her. And that was the issue. He knew her.
“If I'd like to go with you, and try it for a while, see where things go…if we could put it all back together, turn back the clock and fall in love all over again… God, that would be an idea, wouldn't it? …” He filled in for her, looking pensive, and she was nodding. He had understood her. He always had. Better than she knew. “The trouble is… that's all I wanted for ten years. Not overtly. I didn't torture myself daily, you were married to Hamish, there was no hope for us… and now you're not, he's gone… and the funny thing is, Sally…I realize now that I couldn't do it. You're beautiful, just as beautiful as you always were, and with another couple of martinis, I'd fall into bed with you and figure I'd died and gone to Heaven…but then what? You're still you, and I'm me… and all the reasons it blew to smithereens before are still there and always would be…I probably bore you. And the truth is, much as I love you and maybe always will, I don't want to be with you anymore. The cost is too high to me. I want to be with a woman who loves me. I'm not sure you ever did. Love isn't just an object, a purchase, a sale, it's an exchange, a trade, a gift you give and receive…I want the gift next time…I want to get it, and give it …” He felt remarkably at peace as he said it to her. He had had the chance he wanted for ten years, and found that he didn't really want it. It was an incredible feeling of liberation, and at the same time of loss…of disappointment, victory, and freedom.
“You always were such a romantic,” she said, sounding slightly irritated. Things weren't going the way she wanted.
“And you weren't,” he said, smiling. “Maybe that's the problem. I believe in all that romantic drivel. You want to get on with it. Bury one guy, and exhume another. Not to mention what you did with our kids. The trouble is you damn near killed me, and my spirit is floating out there somewhere, it's free now… and I think it likes it that way…”
“You always were a little crazy.” She laughed. But he had never been as sane in his life, and he knew it. “What about an affair?” She was playing let's make a deal now and he felt sorry for her.
“That would be foolish, and confusing. Don't you think? Then what? I'd like nothing more than to go to bed with you. But that's when all the trouble starts. I care. You don't. Someone else comes along. I get tossed on my head out a window. It's not exactly my favorite form of transportation. Sleeping with you is a dangerous sport, for me at least. And I have a healthy respect for my own pain threshold. I don't think I could do it. In fact, I know I couldn't.”
“So now what?” She looked frustrated and angry as she poured herself another martini. Her third now. He had left his first one unfinished. He had outgrown those too. It didn't taste as good as it used to.
“Now we do what you said we would. We declare ourselves friends, wish each other luck, say good-bye, and go on about our business. You go to New York, have a good time, find a new husband, move to Paris or London or Palm Beach, bring up your kids, and I'll see you at Robert and Vanessa's weddings.” It was all he wanted both for her and from her. And nothing more.
“And what about you, Matt?” she spat at him. “You rot at the beach forever?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I grow like a strong old tree, put down roots, and enjoy my life with the people who sit under it and don't want to shake the tree every ten minutes, or chop it down. Sometimes a quiet life is a good thing.” The concept was entirely foreign to her. She loved excitement. No matter what she had to do to create it.
“You're not old enough to think that way. You're only forty-seven, for chrissake. Hamish was fifty-two and he acted half your age.”
“And now he's dead. So maybe that wasn't such a hot idea either. Maybe somewhere in the middle works. But whatever the case, your path and mine have gone in different directions forever. I would drive you insane, and you would kill me. Not a pretty picture.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Maybe. But that's not the issue. If I were in love with you, I would drop everything and follow you to the ends of the earth forever. You know me. Romantic fool, all that stuff you think is so incredibly stupid. But I'd do it. The trouble is, I'm not in love with you. I thought I was. But I guess I got off the train somewhere along the way, and didn't know it. I love our kids, and our memories, and some
crazy, young lost ancient part of me will forever love you. But I don't love you enough to try again, Sally, or to follow you forever.” And with that, he stood up, bent down, and kissed the top of her head, and she didn't move as she watched him walk to the door and open it. She didn't try to stop him. She knew better. He meant every word he said. He always did, always had, always would. And as he stood there, he took one last look at her before he left her life forever.
“Bye, Sally,” he said, feeling better than he had in years. “Good luck.”
“I hate you,” she said, feeling drunk, as the door closed.
And for Matt, the spell was broken at last. It was finally over.
25
MATT HAD DINNER WITH PIP AND OPHÉLIE AT THEIR house, to exchange presents with them the night before Christmas Eve. They had decorated the tree, and Ophélie had insisted on cooking a goose for him, because it was a French tradition. Pip hated it and was going to eat a hamburger, but Ophélie had wanted to have a nice Christmas with him, and she had never seen him look better.
They had both been busy and had hardly talked in the past week. He had never mentioned to her that he had seen Sally, and he wasn't sure yet if he would. What had happened between them still seemed private to him, and he wasn't ready yet to share it with her. But there was no question, it had liberated him, and although Ophélie didn't know what had happened, she could sense it. And as always, he was extraordinarily gentle and loving with her.
They were planning to exchange gifts that night, but Pip couldn't wait until after dinner. She insisted on giving hers to him, and wanted him to open it immediately, when he threatened to save it till Christmas.
“No! Now!” She hopped up and down and clapped her hands, watching him excitedly as he tore off the paper, and as soon as he saw what it was, he burst into laughter. They were a man-sized pair of giant yellow, fluffy Big Bird slippers, and they fit him.
“I love them!” he said, hugging her. He put them on and kept them on through dinner. “They're perfect. Now we can all wear them in Tahoe. You and your mom have to bring Grover and Elmo.” Pip promised to do that, and then was overwhelmed when he gave her the beautiful bicycle he had gotten for her. She rode through the dining room and living room, nearly knocked over the tree, and then took it outside to ride it down the block while her mother finished cooking dinner.
“What about you?” he asked Ophélie, as they each sipped a glass of white wine. “Are you ready for a present?” He knew his would be a double-edged sword, and there was a chance it might upset her, but in the long run he thought she would be pleased. “Do you have a minute?” She nodded and they sat down, while Pip was still outside trying out her new bike. And Matt was glad to have a moment alone with her mother. He handed her the wrapped gift, and she couldn't imagine what it was. It was in a large flat box and didn't rattle.
“What is it?” she asked, looking touched before she even saw it.
“You'll see.” She tore off the paper and opened the box. It was bubble-wrapped and flat, and she made her way cautiously through the wrappings, and then as the last bit of paper came away, she gasped, and her eyes filled with tears instantly. She put a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. It was Chad, and it looked just like him. He had made a portrait of him to match the one he had done of Pip for her birthday. She opened her eyes and looked at him then, and then sank against his chest, crying.
“Oh my God, Matt… thank you… thank you…” She looked at the portrait again. It was like seeing her son again, as he smiled at her. It made her realize yet again how much she missed him, and at the same time it put balm on the pain. It was perfect. “How did you do it?” It looked exactly like Chad, even the smile was exactly him.
Matt pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. It was the framed photograph of Chad he had taken from her living room when he first thought of it. “I apologize. I'm a kleptomaniac.” She laughed when she saw it.
“You know, I looked for that. I couldn't figure out where it went. I thought Pip had taken it, and I didn't want to upset her by asking. I thought she was hiding it in her room, or a drawer… but I spent weeks looking for it.” She set it back on the table in the living room from where he'd taken it to do the portrait. “Matt, how can I ever thank you?”
“You don't have to. I love you. And I want you to be happy.” He was about to say more, as Pip flew through the door, with Mousse barking behind her. He had been running along beside her.
“I love my bike!” she shouted, as she crashed past a table in the front hall, and narrowly missed another one, and then came to a screeching halt in front of them as she put the brakes on. It was a very grown-up bike, and it was obvious that she loved it. And then Ophélie showed her the portrait of Chad, and Pip grew silent.
“Wow…it looks just like him …” She looked at her mother, and the two of them held hands and stared at it for a long time. All three of them had tears in their eyes. It was a tender moment, and then Ophélie smelled disaster brewing in the kitchen. The goose was not only cooked, but nearly burning.
“Yuk!” Pip said as Ophélie served it.
They had a delicious dinner and a wonderful evening, and Ophélie waited to give Matt her gift until Pip went up to bed. It was special, and important to her, and she hoped he'd like it. And his face, when he opened it, was as moved as hers had been when she saw the portrait. It was an old Breguet watch of her fa-ther's, from the fifties. It was a handsome piece, and she had no one to give it to now. No husband, no son, no brother. She had been saving it for Chad, and she wanted Matt to have it. He put it on reverently, and was as pleased and touched as she was with Chad's portrait.
“I don't know what to say,” he said, as he looked at the beautiful timepiece and then kissed her. “I love you, Ophélie,” he said quietly. What they shared was everything he wanted it to be, not like what he had shared with Sally. This was quiet and powerful and real, two good people slowly and solidly bonding to each other. He would have done almost anything for her, and she knew it. And for Pip as well. She was a good woman, a great woman even, and he felt incredibly lucky. He felt totally safe when he was with her, as she did with him. Nothing could touch them within the circle of the powerful force that they shared.
“I love you too, Matt… Merry Christmas,” she whispered, and then kissed him. And in the kiss was everything she felt for him, and all the passion she'd been resisting.
And when he left that night, he was wearing her fa-ther's watch, she lay in bed looking at Chad's portrait with a smile on her face, and the red bike was propped against Pip's bed, where she had left it. It truly was the magic of Christmas.
The “real” Christmas Eve that Pip and Ophélie shared was far more difficult, and inevitably painful. Despite all their efforts to make it otherwise, it wound up being less about who was there than who wasn't. Andrea's absence was felt, and the continuing absence of Ted and Chad was like an ongoing bad joke that never seemed to end. Halfway through the day, Ophélie wanted to throw up her hands and scream “Okay, enough! You can come out now!” But they didn't and never would again. And along with their absence, she felt overwhelmed by the realization that the memories she had once cherished of their marriage had been irretrievably tainted by what had happened with Andrea, and her baby.
It was a difficult day, and they were both glad to see it end. They climbed into Ophélie's bed that night, and the only thing that cheered them was that they were going to Tahoe to see Matt and his family the next morning. And as promised, Pip packed their Grover and Elmo slippers. By ten o'clock, she was sound asleep in her mother's arms, and Ophélie lay awake for a long time, holding her little girl close to her.
The holidays had been better than they had been the year before, mostly because they were getting used to it, the reality that half their family was gone. But in some ways, it was harder too, because they were beginning to realize that it was never going to change. Life as they had known and cherished it in their family was gone for good. Thing
s might be happy again one day, but they would never, ever be the same. And Ophélie, and even Pip, understood that.
It had helped them both hearing frequently from Matt. Ophélie had heard nothing from Andrea, and had no desire to. Andrea was out of their life forever. Pip had talked about her once, saw her mother's face, and never mentioned her again. The message from Ophélie was loud and clear. Andrea no longer existed in their world.
And as she lay in bed, thinking about it all, Ophélie's thoughts drifted first to Ted and Chad, and then to Matt. She loved the portrait he had done, and the way he was with Pip. His kindness to them had been without measure ever since they'd met. And she could feel herself falling in love with him, and ever more attracted to him, but she didn't know what she wanted to do. She wasn't sure she was ready for another man in her life, and didn't know if she ever would be. Not only because she had been in love with Ted, but also because since Thanksgiving, she had lost all faith in what love could mean between two people. It meant sorrow and disappointment and betrayal to her now, and loss of everything you once believed and trusted. She didn't want to go through that again, with anyone, no matter how lovely and kind Matt seemed. He was human, and human beings did terrible things to each other, most often in the guise and the name of love. Asking anyone to believe in that again, and risk everything seemed almost too much to her. She was no longer sure, and knew she could never trust anyone as she once had, not even Matt. He deserved better than that, particularly after what he'd gone through with Sally.
But she and Pip were both in good spirits when they left the next day. She had brought chains with her in case they ran into snow on the way. But the roads were clear all the way to Truckee, and with his directions, she made her way easily to Squaw Valley. He had rented a spectacular house, with two extra bedrooms for her and Pip. And three more for him and his kids.
Vanessa and Robert were out skiing when they arrived, and Matt was waiting for them in the living room with a roaring fire, hot chocolate, and a plate of sandwiches for both of them. It was an elegant and luxurious house, and he was wearing black ski pants and a heavy gray sweater, and looked as handsome and rugged as ever. He was a good-looking man, and Ophélie felt instantly drawn to him. He appealed to her enormously, but she was still afraid to do anything about it. It still wasn't too late to turn back, although she knew it would disappoint him immensely. But disappointment might be better for both of them than eventual despair and destruction. The risks of allowing herself to abandon herself to him seemed dangerously high to her, yet at the same time doing so appealed to her immensely. She was in constant conflict about him, and all the while, she felt ever closer to him. She could no longer imagine her life without him. And in spite of her fears, she knew she loved him.
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