Gwynneth Ever After

by Linda Poitevin

  “If talking doesn’t work…”

  “Yes?”

  “I can punch him in the nose for you.”

  Chapter 39

  The day did eventually end, but it took a very long time to do so. While the phone had stayed silent for the remainder of the afternoon, Gwyn’s nerves had jangled unmercifully at the thought of the looming conversation.

  Throughout the day she found herself inventing and discarding a hundred different reasons she wouldn’t be able to call Gareth once the kids were tucked into bed. Even if she’d managed to find one plausible enough to suit her, she had no choice but to talk to him. He’d been quite serious in his last message about not giving up. She wouldn’t put it past him to show up on her doorstep if she continued to ignore him - a situation that would just compound the whole mess.

  Saying what she had to say by phone would be hard enough; having to do so in person crippled her breathing just to think about it.

  And so, when she had turned out the last bedroom light, fetched the last glass of water, and kissed the last cheek, she returned to the kitchen to deal with the inevitable.

  She found Gareth’s cousin’s phone number still scrawled across the refrigerator whiteboard, and, before she could reconsider yet again, she punched the digits into the phone.

  Gareth answered on the first ring.

  Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut and sat down on the floor with her back against the fridge. “It’s me,” she said.

  “I was getting ready to come over there.”

  “I thought you might be.”

  “You don’t want me to.”

  “No.”

  “Gwyn – ”

  “You lied to me.”

  There. It was out. A single, tidy little phrase that encompassed it all: truth, accusation, and unbearable hurt.

  Starkly underlined by Gareth’s ragged, indrawn breath.

  “I never meant to hurt you, Gwyn, I swear. I wanted to tell you - you have no idea how much I wanted to tell you – ”

  She imagined him running an impatient hand through his hair the way he did when he was frustrated or upset. Then she wiped the familiarity of the thought from her mind.

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I couldn’t. I’d made a promise – ” Gareth broke off with a curse. “I need to start at the beginning for you to understand. Will you listen?”

  No, she wanted to say, because it wouldn’t matter to the final outcome. To what she knew she needed to do for the sake of her kids.

  “Yes,” she said, because she wasn’t yet ready.

  And she did listen. She listened, and heard the pain of what he had been through during the years without his daughter, and even understood his reasons for having kept Amy – that entire part of his life – a secret from her.

  When he was done, she let herself absorb his words for a moment, wondering if they might somehow make a difference. They didn’t. His explanation may have alleviated the hurt and betrayal, but it didn’t change the certainty she’d been right all along. She should never, ever have opened up herself – or her children - to the possibility of this kind of hurt in the first place. And she would never do so again.

  “Are you serious?” Gareth asked hoarsely when she told him as much.

  Gwyn closed her eyes against a prickle of tears. “I’m serious. I do understand why you didn’t tell me about Amy, really I do. But it’s not about that.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “Me. I can’t – I don’t – ”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t trust anyone.” Bracing her elbow on her upraised knee, she dropped her forehead into her hand. “Especially me. I knew something wasn’t right – I knew there was something you weren’t telling me. Damn it, Gareth, I knew better all along than to get involved with you.”

  “It seems to me that we’re more than just involved.”

  She bit her lip. “Fine. Then I knew better than to fall in love with you.”

  “But you did.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I fell in love with you.”

  “Gareth, don’t. Please.”

  “I will apologize a hundred thousand times for hurting you, Gwyn,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “but not for that. Never for that.”

  She steeled her heart against the frustration in his voice. “Then I’ll apologize for it,” she said, “because I’m the one who knew we should never have gone as far as we did. I could have stopped it and saved us both – saved us all – a lot of pain.”

  “Damn it, Gwyn, there doesn’t have to be this much pain. I’m not Jack. I’m not running out on anyone.”

  “Maybe not now, but you and I both know that there are no guarantees in life, Gareth. Who’s to say we wouldn’t split up somewhere down the road? In a year, or two, or ten?”

  Gareth’s snarl of impatience came clearly through the phone line. “Even if we did – and understand I’m following your line of thought here, not mine – I would never just drop out of their lives the way he did.”

  “You wouldn’t have to. They’d still be hurt - and I would still be responsible.”

  Chapter 40

  “So what now?” Sandy asked when Gwyn finished telling her the tale on the phone the next morning.

  Gwyn sat back in her office chair, resting her head against the padded leather. “Now I get on with life. I get up in the morning and make breakfast, I take the kids to school, I get caught up on all the work I’ve let slide…”

  And I wait for a very, very long time for the pain to go away.

  “Do you think he’ll just let it go like this?”

  “Maybe not right away, but eventually he’ll have no choice. My mind is made up, Sandy. I’m doing the right thing.”

  “Are you?”

  Gwyn lifted her glasses up slightly and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Was that the start of a headache? After two sleepless nights and counting, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her friend sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, I think you’re doing the right thing – I know I’d certainly do the same in your shoes, but – ah, hell, Gwyn, you don’t need me second-guessing you on this, do you?”

  “Not really.”

  “As long as you’re sure you’ll be able to hold out against him. He seems pretty persistent.”

  “I’m sure.” Most of the time, anyway. As long as she remained clearly focused on how this was best not just for her, but for the kids too, her determination stayed pretty steady. In weaker moments, however…

  She shored up her resolve for the hundredth time that morning and continued, “He has to leave eventually. He has his work, his life. All I have to do is hold out long enough and – ”

  “Theoretically,” Sandy’s dry voice interrupted.

  Gwyn sighed. “Theoretically,” she agreed.

  “This isn’t going to be easy, Gwyn. You know that.”

  “I know. I also know I have no choice. I can’t put the kids through a second family break-up.”

  “You didn’t put them through the first. Jack did.”

  “Whatever. I can still make damned certain there isn’t another.”

  “Who’s to say there’d be another? You and Gareth might – ”

  The phone beeped in Gwyn’s ear, signaling another call waiting. Only too happy to cut the conversation short, she said, “Sorry, Sand – I have to go. I have another call coming in.”

  “What if it’s him?”

  “Then I’ll make polite conversation about the weather and tell him to have a nice day,” Gwyn lied, thinking it far more likely she’d hang up out of sheer panic. “It’s probably just a client anyway.”

  “Call me later?”

  “Of course.” She held the receiver button down for an instant, prepared herself the best she could for the possibility it might be Gareth after all, then answered with her professional daytime,
“Gwyn Jacobs Architecture and Design.”

  “Ms. Jacobs? It’s Nicole at the school. Can you come over here? I’m afraid we have a situation.”

  Chapter 41

  “Holy shit, it’s like running a gauntlet out there!” Sandy panted, slamming the door shut behind her and looking more frazzled than usual. She clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled a face at a giggling Maggie. “Forget Auntie Sandy said that, okay, Magpie? Hey, how about putting my purse in the kitchen for me?”

  Still giggling, Maggie ran to do as she was bid, and Sandy turned to envelop Gwyn in a hug.

  “You poor thing,” she said. “On top of everything else…”

  Gwyn gave a quick squeeze back but felt no need to remain in the embrace. She was too damned angry to need Sandy’s – or anyone’s - sympathy. She pulled away, calling out a reminder to Nicholas as she did, “Away from the windows, Nicky.”

  Her son obediently bobbed his head back down from where he’d been sneaking a peek through the blinds at the gathered paparazzi. He returned to his Lego-building.

  “How did they find out?” Sandy asked, trailing after her into the kitchen.

  “Katie did some bragging on the playground last week. One of the lunch monitors apparently overheard her and, when the news came out about Gareth this weekend, decided to make a few extra bucks.” Gwyn held up a hand to forestall her friend’s wrath. “She’s already been suspended.”

  Undeterred, Sandy growled, “She should be fired. Or drawn and quartered!”

  “That could still be arranged.” Digging into one of her kitchen drawers, she located the Aylmer community telephone book and slammed it onto the counter. “Anyway, when the kids went out at recess, the paparazzi were waiting. They scared the living daylights out of poor Maggie.”

  “And they should be – ” Sandy shot a sideways look at the avidly listening poor Maggie and finished, “Well, never mind. You get my drift. What about Nicholas and Katie?”

  “Katie’s on a field trip for the day, thank heavens. The teachers will keep her inside the school until I pick her up. And Nicholas – ” Her fist closed spasmodically on a page in the phonebook, tearing it from its binding.

  Sandy looked alarmed. “Are you okay?”

  Gwyn made herself release the paper. She smoothed it out again as best she could, then continued turning the pages.

  “I’m fine,” she said, “but one of the photographers is probably limping. Nicky laid into him and landed a half-dozen good kicks on the shin before the teachers pulled him off and got him inside.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Nich’las was pertecting me,” Maggie said proudly.

  “I’m sure he was,” Sandy told her, admiration for her “nephew” ringing in her voice. Quiet concern underlined her next question, however. “They were close enough for him to kick one of them?”

  “They were close enough to be talking to both of them on the playground at recess. That’s been dealt with, too.” Gwyn realized she’d passed what she was looking for. She swore and flipped backwards through the pages.

  “Maggie,” said Sandy, “Why don’t you go and help Nicholas with the Lego and I’ll make us all some popcorn – would you like that?”

  “’kay,” Maggie said agreeably. “Can we have hot chocolate too?”

  “Of course.”

  Maggie trotted off to join her brother. Sandy took the phonebook away from Gwyn.

  “Take a deep breath and tell me what you’re looking for,” she said. “I’ll find it for you.”

  Gwyn took the suggested deep breath, then another. And then she began to shake. “Damn it to hell and back, Sandy, those – those – ”

  She gritted her teeth against the uncharacteristic language that threatened to spill over, and filled her lungs for a third time. “Maggie was in hysterics. They wouldn’t stop taking pictures even while she was crying. Half the playground was in an uproar.”

  With no similar compunctions regarding language, Sandy quite succinctly described what Gwyn herself thought of the paparazzi lying in wait outside her front door. When she had finished, she remained silent for a moment, then asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m calling the cops. That’s the number I was trying to find, by the way. Non-emergency.”

  Her friend flipped to the front of the book and located the listing within the first few pages. She took a green highlighter from the drawer and drew a line over the number. “Have you considered calling – ”

  “No.”

  “But he might be able to – ”

  “No. Apart from the fact that it would give those leeches another reason to hang around my front door, I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.” Gwyn took the book from Sandy and lifted the cordless phone from its base. “I used to manage just fine before Gareth arrived in our lives, remember? I’m sure I still can.”

  “Would that be me or you you’re trying to convince?”

  Gwyn declined to answer and headed instead for the hallway. “I’m going to call from upstairs where the kids can’t hear. Do you mind watching them for me?”

  Sandy’s raised voice followed her out of the kitchen. “He’d want to know about this, Gwyn. There’s such a thing as too independent sometimes, you know!”

  ***

  Gareth prowled the perimeter of Sean’s living room, his mind and heart so hopelessly enmeshed that he could no longer sort raw emotion from rational thought. Not the best state in which to attempt solving a problem that seemed insurmountable in the first place.

  He stopped at the balcony doors and scowled across the river. He should just go over there and – what? Try to talk to her through her front door? Because he was fairly certain that’s what he’d be doing. She’d already stopped taking or returning his calls, so his chances of getting inside her house seemed nothing short of impossible.

  Which left him at the same point he’d been when she’d hung up on him last night: exactly nowhere.

  Bloody hell, there had to be something he could do. Some way to get through to her, make her listen, make her give him – them - another chance.

  He resumed his pacing.

  “Keep that up and you’ll wear a hole through my carpet,” Sean’s voice observed from the kitchen doorway.

  Gareth shot him a black look. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  His cousin held out a glass to him. “That wasn’t the point.”

  Gareth took the glass and sniffed suspiciously at its contents. He raised an eyebrow. “Whiskey? It’s a little early in the day, don’t you think?”

  Sean lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “You looked like you could use it. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to be driving anywhere soon.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you?” Gareth handed the glass back to him. “Thanks, but no thanks. My head is messed up enough as it is.”

  Resting his shoulder against the wall, one hand tucked into his jeans pocket, Sean swirled the glass in slow, thoughtful circles.

  Gareth heaved a pained, exaggerated sigh. “What?”

  “Maybe she just needs a little time. This was an awful lot to be hit with, after all.”

  “Finding out about Amy, you mean?”

  Sean nodded. “And the whole secret thing. That had to have hurt.”

  “It did,” Gareth said grimly. “But Amy’s not the problem.”

  “What, then?”

  “Jack.”

  “Her son?”

  “Her ex. She’s determined not to put the kids at risk of another break-up.”

  “So much so that she’s causing the break-up herself?”

  “Something about it being better to do so now, before the kids get more involved, because there are no guarantees that we’d make it as a couple.”

  Sean frowned, mulling over the information, then grunted. “Damned if that doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, “in a twisted-logic kind of way.”

  Gareth laughed, a short, humorless bark of sound, and resumed his trek a
round the apartment. “Tell me about it. I’m still trying to figure out an argument.” He glanced over his shoulder as the phone rang. “Unless that’s Amy, I’m not in.”

  Stopping at the balcony doors again, he listened to his cousin answer the phone and ask who was calling, then gave a start of surprise when Sean tapped him on the shoulder with the instrument.

  He turned. “Amy?” he asked.

  Sean shook his head.

  “I told you – ”

  “It’s someone named Sandra Masters. She says she’s a friend of Gwyn’s and it’s urgent.”

  Chapter 42

  Gwyn peeled off her coat and unwound the scarf from her neck. She dropped them onto the hall bench with a huge sigh of relief and not a trace of guilt about violating her own put it away rule. Glancing into the living room, she saw Nicholas and Maggie cuddled up on the couch to listen to their favorite audiobook. Katie’s excited voice drifted down the hall from the kitchen where she’d run to tell Sandy about their brush with fame. As if the camera flashes in the school yard and the police escort home had all been just one big adventure.

  Heaving a sigh, she stooped to undo her boots. The creak of a floorboard heralded her friend’s approach down the hallway.

  “Well, mission accomplished.” Gwyn flashed a sideways smile at Sandy, working to untie a knot that had formed in one lace. “The cops were great. I can’t do anything about those creeps hanging around in the street, but they’ve been read the riot act about coming anywhere near the kids again, and now I know how to go about laying a complaint if I need to.”

  Boots removed, she straightened up again. In the kitchen, Katie’s voice reached a high note of excitement and Gwyn shook her head wryly. Oh, to be seven again.

  Wait. Katie’s voice was continuing? Why?

  She strained to eavesdrop on her eldest daughter for a moment. Yes, she was definitely telling the story. To someone on the phone?

  Sandy cleared her throat. And looked unbelievably guilty.

  “Sand? What’s going on?”

  “I was worried!” Sandy burst out. “You, the kids – you don’t need this paparazzi crap, Gwyn!”