“No problem,” Jack said, sitting next to her. “You said on the phone you had something important to talk about.”
The urge to make small talk first was powerful, but Frieda knew that it was kinder to get straight to the point. “Yes,” she said, looking down at her hands crossed on her lap. “I can’t spend time with you, Jack, not like we have been. It upsets Bella.”
After a moment Jack said, “I see. Did she talk to you about us?”
“Yes.” Frieda turned to look at Jack. “She . . . She was very agitated. She said that I was betraying her father. She said that I was abandoning her. I tried to convince her otherwise, but . . . I’m sorry, Jack. I feel I don’t have a choice about this.”
“You always have a choice, Frieda,” Jack said quietly.
“No. Not always.” Not, she thought, when it comes to your child.
“Maybe it would help if Bella met me,” Jack suggested. “She could see for herself that I’m not a creep.”
Maybe, Frieda thought. But it’s too late now. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said. “Really.”
Jack sighed. “Well, I can’t say that I’m not disappointed. Tell me, Frieda, did you enjoy the time we’ve spent together this summer?”
“Yes,” she said honestly. “Very much.”
“As did I. I felt—I feel—that we connect pretty well. Things seem so easy between us. Natural.”
“Yes,” Frieda said. “I know.”
“Being really comfortable with someone is rare. It should be treasured.”
Frieda felt a trickle of annoyance. If Jack thought he could wear down her resistance by pointing out the truth about them he was simply wrong. Because there was another truth; there was the truth about mother and daughter. “I know,” she said a bit testily. “But this is something I have to do, for Bella’s sake.”
Jack shook his head. “Frieda, you can’t sacrifice your own happiness for that of your daughter and expect to be of much help to her in the end.”
“What do you know about being a parent?” Frieda replied angrily. “Losing my daughter, my own flesh and blood, is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The worst. I can’t, I won’t, risk losing another child. Nothing matters more than the mother-child bond. Nothing!”
Suddenly all energy drained from Frieda and she became terribly aware that she and Jack were not alone. An elderly woman on the bench to the left was frowning at her. A young mother holding her baby against her chest was openly staring. Frieda heard a giggle from behind and was sure it was meant at her expense. Even the seagull strutting nearby seemed to turn its beady critical eye in her direction. She had never felt so embarrassed.
And when she saw the look of anguish on Jack’s face her heart contracted. “God, Jack,” she said quietly, “I’m so sorry. I should never have said what I did about your not knowing what’s it like to be a parent. I should never have raised my voice, made a scene. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”
“I believe that you’re sorry,” Jack said after a moment. “I know you’re not a cruel person. And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Your relationship with your daughter is none of my business. I guess hearing words I had hoped never to hear from you got to me.”
Frieda put her hand to her forehead. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”
“I should be going.” Jack rose from the bench and gently, for just a moment, put his hand on her shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Frieda.”
Frieda did not look up at Jack; she did not watch him walk back to his car. The young woman with the baby suddenly sat next to her. “You okay?” she asked.
Frieda shook her head. “Not really,” she said hoarsely, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But I will be.” Frieda rose from the bench and headed toward where she had parked her own car. When she had first come home to Yorktide for the summer she had told her mother she felt responsible for Bella’s recent emotional withdrawal. Maybe now, Frieda thought, unlocking the door of her car, she could really begin to make amends. Maybe now she could really let Bella know that her mother was available for her whenever and wherever and however Bella needed her to be. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 44
“Thanks so much for your help, Ruby.” Michael shuddered. “That wound was looking pretty nasty. Wound care has never been my strong point.”
“No worries,” Ruby told her colleague. “I’ve never been able to handle vomiting. I mean, I don’t let the patient see that I’m weak at the knees, but . . .”
Michael laughed. “Next time you have a patient who feels there’s a Technicolor yawn coming on, call me.”
“I will,” Ruby promised. She continued on her rounds, and though her patients were terribly important, there was one even more important matter on her mind at the moment—the conversation she had had with George over a midmorning coffee. Well, it hadn’t really been a conversation. George had talked and Ruby had listened.
“I was thinking,” he had said, “that we should take a trip to Quebec City next year or the one after that, depending on our schedules and how the dollar is performing. I can’t imagine why I’ve never been. It’s like Europe without the airfare.”
And while George went on enthusiastically about all they might do and see in Quebec—“we could visit the Parc Jeanne D’Arc”; “we could catch a play or a concert at the Grand Theatre”; “I doubt we could afford to stay at the Château Frontenac, but we could certainly pay it a visit”—Ruby had nodded politely and made vague sounds of interest, all the while wondering if George was really talking about a honeymoon. By imagining their future was he presuming that she would accept his proposal? Or was she being unfair in thinking that George respected her so little that he would suppose he knew her thoughts before she did? Yes, Ruby thought, now as she walked along the third-floor corridor. I was probably being unfair, unfair and unkind.
In the end Ruby had managed to avoid committing to the idea of Quebec, much as she had managed to avoid giving George an answer to his proposal. But there was a tricky thing about avoidance. Most often it couldn’t go on forever. At some point you had to face the troubling situation or have the awkward conversation or give an important answer to an important question asked of you by the person you loved. And then you had to accept the consequences.
Ruby turned into Room 314, in which a seven-year-old boy named Terence was currently the sole occupant. He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by a few books, a plush dog, and a big metal dump truck.
“Hello, Terrence,” Ruby said brightly as she went about checking his IV lines.
“Hi.” The boy’s voice was thin and Ruby thought she saw his lower lip quiver.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what?” Ruby asked gently. “What are you afraid of?”
“Of something bad happening to me.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen,” Ruby said robustly. “The doctor who is going to perform your operation is a very, very good doctor and an even better surgeon. Plus,” she added with a smile, “she’s a super nice lady with two kids of her own. She’ll fix you up right as rain and before you know it you’ll be back home asking for all your favorite treats.”
“I like mac ’n’ cheese,” the little boy said, eyes wide. “The kind my mom makes.”
“Then she’ll make you mac ’n’ cheese,” Ruby said. “I’m sure of it.”
Terence’s face grew brighter. “And I like chocolate chip cookies.”
“I’m sure your mom will let you have all the cookies you need to help you get better.”
Terence smiled, put the plush dog in the back of the dump truck, and began to push it around the bed. Ruby finished her chores on his behalf and left him feeling, she hoped, a bit more cheerful than she had found him. She hated falsehoods as a rule and, as everyone who knew her was aware, she was a terrible liar, but sometimes, when she thought it was important that someone in a difficult situation hear som
ething he needed to hear, she could pull off a comforting deception. Like, Ruby thought, stepping aside to let an aide guiding a bed move past her, all those times she had lied to or kept things from her daughter in an effort to shield her from a full knowledge of her father’s less than sterling character.
And now, Ruby thought as she continued on down the hall, I’m deceiving Frieda again by keeping George’s proposal a secret from her. But why? The knowledge can’t hurt her, so is it because I’m afraid she’s going to push me to accept?
“Ruby. I’m glad I ran into you.” It was one of the younger nurses on staff and, if not one of the best, definitely one of the most dedicated.
“Hello, Daria,” Ruby said with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I just want to thank you for catching my mistake the other day,” she said with a bit of a nervous laugh.
“But you already thanked me.”
“I know, but . . . Well, you could have been all . . .” Daria blushed. “But you weren’t. You were nice. You didn’t humiliate me. You made me feel like I’m part of the team.”
“You are part of the team,” Ruby assured her. “A smart and enthusiastic member. And we all make mistakes, even old hands like me.”
Daria laughed. “I doubt you ever make a mistake! But thanks again.”
The young woman moved off and Ruby continued in the direction of the nurses’ station. The thanks from Michael and Daria embarrassed her, not because she felt she didn’t deserve the recognition—everyone deserved recognition for a job well done—but because it highlighted the marked contrast between her professional and personal character.
Ruby took a seat at one of the computers. If my colleagues only knew what a coward and a weakling I really am, she thought, they might think twice before offering me their thanks and appreciation.
Chapter 45
That’s Dad, Frieda thought. She didn’t know how she knew who was at the other end of the line, but she did. “Hi, Dad,” she said into the receiver.
“How did you know it was me?” Steve Hitchens asked with a bit of a laugh.
“I just did. What’s up?”
“Is this an okay time to talk?”
“As good a time as any.”
“You sound upset. Did something happen?”
“No,” Frieda lied. Her father didn’t need to know what she had done for Bella’s sake. No one did. “Everything’s fine. But Dad? I’d like some answers. What really prompted you to call me now, fifteen months after the accident? And please don’t tell me again that the spirit moved you.”
“All right,” her father said after a moment. “I owe you the truth. I had a heart attack a few months back. Nothing too serious, but it shook me up. I guess I’ve started to realize the importance of making amends, because life’s not going to go on forever. Yeah,” he added quickly, “it’s still all about me. I admit that. I’m reaching out to you now because I need something. But I’m also reaching out because I’m genuinely sorry for being a jerk. I’m not an evil guy, Frieda. I’m just a highly inadequate guy and I’m genuinely sorry for that.”
The results are the same, Frieda thought. But no. That was being unfair. He had said that he was sorry. “Have you told Mom?” she asked. “About the heart attack?”
“No,” her father replied promptly. “I didn’t want to worry her.”
Frieda frowned. Did he really think her mother still cared enough about her ex-husband to worry about his health? What arrogance! But that was a knee-jerk reaction. Maybe she did still care enough about Steve Hitchens to be worried about his health. Either way, it wasn’t for Frieda to assume.
“Do me a favor,” her father went on, “and don’t tell your mother I was sick.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” Frieda told him. “I’m not really comfortable with keeping secrets from Mom.” Although, she thought, I do it often enough.
Steve sighed. “Say what you need to say. Just don’t let her get the idea I’m at death’s door. I’ve put her through enough trouble already.”
“All right,” Frieda agreed.
“Hey, I was thinking about something the other day. Do you remember the time you and I went canoeing on Great Pond in Cape Elizabeth? You were eight, I think, or maybe nine.”
Frieda suddenly did remember, if vaguely, but she could have sworn it had been Phil who had been with her. The past was so malleable; it simply couldn’t be trusted to live on into the present in any reliable form. “Yes,” she told her father. “Sort of.”
“That storm came up out of nowhere. I was terrified we were going to capsize.”
“Weren’t we wearing life jackets?” Frieda asked. Would it be like her father, she wondered, to forget about something so important to his child’s safety? She didn’t know the answer to that.
“Of course,” he told her, “but they’re not foolproof. And while I was a wreck you were as calm as the proverbial cucumber.”
“Really?”
“Really. Either you had faith in my ability to get us safely to shore or, more likely, you were too young to realize the possible dangers we faced.”
“All children have faith in their parents,” Frieda said automatically. Until, she added silently, they don’t.
Her father laughed. “Be that as it may, I was very happy I managed to bring us back to your mother in one piece.”
“Why didn’t Mom go with us?” Frieda asked.
It was a moment before her father replied. “It was meant to be a father and daughter excursion,” he said. “Just the two of us.”
Frieda swallowed hard. Just the two of us. “I’d better go,” she said. “I’m a bit behind on a project and—”
“Of course,” Steve said promptly. “And Frieda? Thanks again for talking.”
“Bye, Dad.”
Frieda replaced the receiver. Something had suddenly become crystal clear. The second time she had spoken with her father this summer he had said he hoped she could acknowledge that he existed. The words and the meaning behind them had puzzled her until now. The truth was that her father had come close to death and had realized the sanctity of this wonderful but temporary life. He had realized that he had made some bad decisions, decisions that had hurt the two people he loved most. Decisions that might have hurt him as well, because it was rare that a wrongdoer wasn’t as damaged by his actions as were his victims.
Frieda walked over to the sink and looked through the window at the yard beyond. Her mother’s roses were in full bloom and for a brief moment Frieda imagined her father bending over them to inhale their sweet scent. Steve Hitchens had told her that his reaching out to her this summer was all about his own needs, but that wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t selfish of him to want to make peace, even if absolving himself of guilt was part of his motive. It was deeply human. And that, Frieda decided, was something she could respect.
Chapter 46
“Look at the amazing detail on this silver pie server. I wonder how many people in this day and age appreciate workmanship like this.”
“Mmm,” Ruby said. She and Phil were browsing through their favorite antique mall on Route 1, but her mind was miles away.
“Out with it.”
“Out with what?” Ruby asked, looking up at her friend.
“Something’s up,” Phil said, “and don’t lie and say everything’s fine. I can tell when you’re lying. Heck, anyone can; you’re a terrible liar. And don’t say you’re worried about Frieda and Bella, because I know you are, but this is something else. You didn’t even notice the gorgeous milk glass vase back there, the one with the fluted edges.”
Ruby managed a smile. “How well you know me, Phil. Okay, a few weeks back, before Frieda and Bella came to stay with me for the summer, George asked me to marry him. And I haven’t yet given him an answer.”
Phil’s eyes widened. “This is huge,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“Because I’ve been so . . . so conflicted.”
“That’
s exactly when you should talk to an old friend,” Phil pointed out, “someone who can bring some perspective to bear on a difficult situation. Friendship One-Oh-One.”
“I know,” Ruby admitted. “I do know.”
“I’ll tell you what this is about,” Phil said. “You’re being sexist. George is not Steve, Ruby. Don’t paint every man with the same brush. You do my sex a disservice if you consider us all just a bunch of jerks out for what we can get for free.”
“I’m not being sexist, Phil,” Ruby protested. “That’s not what’s going on.”
“Then what is going on?” Phil asked.
Ruby absentmindedly picked up a truly awful china statuette of a poodle with a pale-blue bow around its neck. “Fear,” she said. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?” Phil demanded. “Of what the future will bring? Because a lot of other things might happen aside from George’s leaving you. Like, he could stay with you and make you a very happy woman. It’s no good being afraid of the future, Ruby. It’s no way to live. Trust me on this one. I spent a good few months after Tony’s passing convinced I was going to find out that I, too, was sick and dying. You remember how frozen with fear I was. You were there. It wasn’t easy to let go of that fear and accept that what was going to happen—good or bad—was going to happen no matter how I felt about it.”
“You’re a stronger person than I am, Phil,” Ruby said, returning the poodle to its place on the shelf. “You always were.”
“That’s nonsense, Ruby. Come on, let’s get out of here. You haven’t been able to pay proper attention to anything, not even that hilariously bad portrait of George Washington.”
Obediently Ruby followed Phil out to the parking lot. Before she slid into the front passenger seat of his car, she looked at her friend over the roof and said, “Was it a mistake asking Frieda and Bella here for the summer?”
“I thought we were talking about you and George.”
We still are, in a way, Ruby thought. “Just tell me what you think. I mean, things seemed to be going well for Frieda, at least as far as her friendship with Jack was concerned, but I’m pretty sure they haven’t seen each other in days. I know something must have happened between them, but Frieda won’t say anything. I suspect it had to do with Bella. I know Bella’s not happy about her mother’s friendship with Jack and, honestly, I can understand why. But I don’t want my daughter to miss out on a chance of happiness. Not after all she’s been through.”
Home for the Summer Page 18
