by Susan Wiggs
“Hell, yes, you deserved to know,” he said. “But it wasn’t the job of your kid to tell you.”
She inhaled sharply. “I can’t disagree with that,” she conceded. “It was your father’s job, but he said nothing. Do your brother and sister know?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Listen, Dad swore to me that they were just friends. He said she was going through some stuff and needed a friend.”
“And you believed him.”
“It was Dad.”
“Did he explain that the boy you saw was his?”
Mason flashed on the photo he’d found in the cottage in Cancale. “I figured it out later, I guess. Mom, I’m sorry. What he did sucks. I don’t know how long it went on. Dad claimed he would never see her again, and the issue never came up between us. I wanted to trust him. You guys seemed to... The two of you... I thought everything went back to normal.”
She sat in silence. Her eyes were calm and unreadable as she gazed out the window. “Normal,” she said, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I scarcely remember what normal feels like.”
“What did Celeste Gauthier want?”
She pursed her lips and faced him again. “The Paris apartment. I said she could have it. I’ll certainly never use it again.”
“That’s more than generous of you.”
“It’s not generous. Your father made no provision for her or the boy. I suppose he’s a young man by now. And Lord knows, he didn’t ask to be fathered by a married man.”
Trevor Bellamy had a lot to answer for. But how did you get answers from a dead guy? You didn’t, Mason conceded. They could be as angry as they wanted at him, but the anger had nowhere to go.
“I’m not here because of Celeste Gauthier,” he said at length. “And I’m not here because of Dad and anything he did or failed to do. None of that matters now, because it would be pointless to let it matter.” He resisted the urge to stare down at his hands, and instead held her gaze with his. “I’m here because of you.”
She gave another quiet gasp of surprise. “Why now?”
“Because your fall down the stairs wasn’t an accident. You made it happen.”
Her face didn’t change, but her eyes did, flaring with momentary panic. “Don’t be absurd, Mason.”
“I agree, it does sound absurd, saying aloud that my mother tried to kill herself.” There. He’d spoken the words. Just be honest, Faith had urged him. Speak your truth.
“Then why would you even suggest such a thing?”
“Because that’s what happened, and I didn’t drive all the way up here to debate the matter with you. I’m worried, and I’m here to help.”
Her cheeks turned flame red. “Faith told you this.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to fire her immediately. I won’t have an alarmist and a liar working for me.”
“You’re not going to fire her. She’s the best thing that’s happened to us since your accident.”
“To us? Do I detect a Freudian slip?”
He was not even going to address that. “Listen, Mom, firing Faith is not going to solve anything. How about you take a second and quit thinking about yourself and the shitty hand you’ve been dealt, and start thinking of others. The woman’s trying her best. She’s doing a great job compared to the ones before her.”
“She’s intrusive. She doesn’t know her place. And she jumps to wild conclusions.”
“You just don’t like her because she stands up to your bullying.” He got up, paced back and forth, raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come here to talk about Faith,” he said. “I want to talk about you.”
“Well, I don’t. I’m sick of myself.”
“Mom, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t. I’ll be fine. Go back to the city. Go back to Regina.”
“No can do. I’ve decided to make a big change. I’m setting up an office in Avalon. I’ll be living at Adam’s place above the boathouse.”
“And how charming to have you nearby, pointing out all my shortcomings and flaws,” she said. “How did I get so lucky?”
He ignored that. “I don’t intend to leave until I know you’re safe.”
“Fine. I’m safe.”
“I need to feel sure there won’t be another suicide attempt.”
She sniffed. “You’re being overly dramatic.”
“You’re minimizing and being avoidant.” Speak your truth. “Mom, we haven’t had an honest conversation since that summer. After finding out about Celeste, I didn’t know how to talk to you. Not about things that mattered. We’d discuss school and politics and social issues and the weather, but we didn’t ever connect again. So I can tell when someone’s avoiding an issue.”
“And you think I didn’t notice this? You were a stranger when you came home that summer. I thought it was PTSD—it was, of course, but that wasn’t the only thing that was bothering you.”
Practically from the moment he’d stepped off the plane, she’d had him in the most aggressive therapies she could find—trauma-focused cognitive therapy, medication, group therapy, something involving eye movement, which he couldn’t even remember anymore. His first days and weeks back in the United States had been crammed with appointments. He remembered thinking at one point that he wished his mother would stop rushing him from place to place and simply hug him, but it never happened. And in all the talk therapy, the writing and visualization exercises they’d put him through, he had never once mentioned what he’d seen at his father’s apartment.
“I remember missing how close we used to be before that summer,” his mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t understand why you pulled away. And now I do.”
The pain in her voice touched him deeply. “I’m sorry I acted like a stranger. I didn’t want you to figure out there was something I wasn’t telling you, something that had nothing to do with the bombing.”
“I hate that his secret ruined us,” she said. “Collateral damage.”
Mason was surprised to see that his hands were shaking. His chest felt expansive, his limbs slack with relief. He’d held these things in for years, and it was a relief to finally let everything out. “So here we are years later, and the secret is gone. And that, I suppose, is my long-winded way of telling you that I plan to stick around and learn to talk to you again.”
She regarded him with an expression he’d never seen on her face before—shock and emotion and a glimmer of happiness. “Who are you, and what have you done with my son?”
“Now who’s being dramatic?”
“Mason, I truly appreciate your concern, but it’s really not necessary. I don’t need a keeper.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be here?”
“You’ve never lived in a town with fewer than ten million people. You’re going to go stir-crazy within seventy-two hours, you mark my words.” She glared at him. “What about Regina?”
She’d be furious. “She’ll understand.”
“What do you plan to do with yourself all day, every day?”
“The same thing I do in the city. Go to work, make deals. Only instead of going back to my apartment, I’ll come home to you. I can commute to the city occasionally if I need to.”
“That’s no life for a man like you.”
“That’s exactly the life I intend having.”
“Until...?”
“Until I know you’re all right.”
“I will never be all right.”
“Bullshit. People live with disabilities. It’s not what any of us would have chosen, but it’s what we’ve got, and you damned well are going to be all right.” He held her gaze with his. “You tried to kill yourself, Mom. It scares the hell out of me. And...I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were in s
uch pain that you didn’t want to live anymore.”
She was silent for a long time. “You’re wrong about me. Faith is an alarmist. I promise to be more careful in the future. There won’t be another incident.”
He wondered if he would ever get a straight answer out of his mother. “I need more than a promise. I need to know.”
“I used to believe there were no guarantees in life, but that’s not so,” she said, speaking softly but with steady conviction. “The guarantee is that it will end. So what really matters is how it’s spent. I would give all the years I have left of my life if I could have my mobility back. Jesus, if I could just put my own damned olive in my own damned martini, I’d be grateful, but I can’t even do that.”
Although she spoke with dispassion, he heard a tremor in her voice. “Mom, let me stay. You can’t fix your own martini, but I sure as hell can.”
Her effort to smile broke his heart. “Have I ever told you how much I hate this? How useless I feel, being such a burden on everyone?”
Okay, this was not reassuring. “You’re not a burden. You give so much to the people around you. Faith was telling me on the way up here how great you’ve been with her girls. I mean, piano lessons? Seriously?”
“The child is rather bright. I’ve been able to teach her a lot, just by explaining things to her.”
“Now you’re talking. The accident sucks. The fact that Dad cheated sucks. But we’re in the here and now, Mom. And you’re still you.”
She was crying now. “I caused it,” she said, speaking so softly he could barely hear.
“Caused what?” He couldn’t fathom what she was talking about. Had she caused the fall down the stairs? Or was she talking about her husband’s affair?
“The avalanche,” she said.
“Oh, come on—”
“It’s true. Your father and I both knew the safety rules for avalanche zones. We’d been doing it all our lives. But we—I...yes, I was careless that day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The day he died. We had an argument. It was about something stupid—aren’t they always? He got mad and skied away from me, straight across a runout zone where there was already some loose snow. Instead of waiting—you know you’re supposed to stay off the face of the hill until your partner has gone ahead—I took off after him. I could tell the snow was unstable, but I was so determined to get in the last word that I ignored the warning signs. I yelled at him like the worst kind of nag. And that was when it happened. That was when the whole mountain came down on us.”
Holy shit. Mason had no idea what to say to that. No wonder she felt guilty. Instead of speaking, he put his hands on hers and wished like hell she could feel his touch.
She stared down at their joined hands. “So there you have it. I know how to be safe in an avalanche zone, but we argued and I violated the rules and the entire thing was my fault. Then I found out he’d cheated on me, fathered a child, and I wondered why we’d never fought about that. And then I realized all of our arguments were about that, and I just didn’t realize it.”
The expression on her face tore Mason apart. “Mom,” he said. “I’m sorry you were in such pain that you wanted to die. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m here now, and I’m staying for as long as you need me. Maybe forever.”
* * *
Faith headed to the kitchen for her morning coffee. She was surprised to hear Ruby up and talking to someone.
“To tell you the truth,” she was saying with crisp authority, “Cocoa Puffs are the bomb. The very essence of crunch, with chocolate. But I can’t do any of the good cereals anymore. My mom won’t let me. The added sugar sets my numbers off the charts, so I have to stick with no sugar added.”
Faith walked into the kitchen to find her younger daughter and Mason Bellamy solemnly contemplating the cereal selection lined up at the breakfast bar. She felt instantly self-conscious in her discount-store nightshirt commemorating the Avalon Hornets’ regional pennant win in the bush league. She was wearing flip-flops that had seen better days. And couldn’t she have taken ten seconds to comb her hair?
“Good to know,” Mason said, offering her a wave. He wore jeans with a black T-shirt and a blazer, looking casually elegant. His appearance made her feel even scruffier. Had she at least brushed her teeth? Yes. Yes, she had. At least she thought she had. This man had a unique way of causing her brain cells to die, one by one.
“Hi, Mom.” Ruby climbed down off the bar stool and gave her a hug. “Did you know Mason is moving in? He’s taking over the apartment above the boathouse. It’s okay with Adam, ’cause Adam is training to be a smoke jumper.”
Faith had thought he’d be more resistant. “That was fast.”
“I can work fast when I know what has to be done.”
“Same here,” said Ruby. And with that, she took out her test kit. With a minimum of fuss, she stuck her finger, placed a drop of blood on a test strip and recorded the level on her chart. Then she primed her insulin pen and injected herself. “There. Thirty more minutes, and I get to eat.”
“Hey, you’re pretty slick with that stuff,” said Mason.
“My daughter, the pincushion,” said Faith.
“I used to freak out when I first started, but it’s okay now.”
“Impressive,” said Mason.
To Faith’s surprise, Alice came through the doorway with her morning aide. She usually didn’t make an appearance until later. She offered a general nod of good morning to everyone, but her attention stayed fixed on Ruby. “Let me be certain I understand this correctly. You have no problem with blood and needles and stabbing yourself with sharp objects, and yet you claim to be afraid of dogs, water and the third grade.”
Ruby admitted this with a sheepish nod, then went about putting her school lunch together.
“You forgot heights, the dark and cursive writing,” Cara added, coming into the kitchen. “Oh, and those little cotton balls stuck down inside pill bottles. She’s afraid of those, too.”
“Odd, how could I forget that?”
Mason looked from his mother to Ruby to Cara. “There’s a saying my mother used to tell me,” he said to Ruby. “‘Fear makes the wolf bigger.’ Do you know what that means?”
She nodded, studying the floor. “I guess.”
“I have a very smart mother,” he added. “We both do.”
Okay, thought Faith. He believed she was smart. At least he wasn’t focused on Faith. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her disreputable nightgown.
“Are the Avalon Hornets a local outfit?” he asked her suddenly.
Shoot, he’d noticed. “Bush-league baseball team. They’re based right here in town.”
“Can we go to a game sometime?” Ruby asked. “I like baseball games. Especially the popcorn and hot dogs.”
“We’ll see,” Faith said.
“You always say ‘we’ll see’ and hope I’ll forget I asked,” Ruby pointed out. She turned to Alice. “Will you come to a baseball game?”
Alice looked startled. Then she said, “Why, yes. I might enjoy that.”
“Cool.” Ruby went around the end of the counter and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Faith’s heart swelled with love for her daughter in that moment. Ruby’s natural affection was such a beautiful gift. Even Alice at her crankiest was unable to resist it.
Cara slathered a piece of bread with peanut butter. “Thank God it’s the last day of school,” she said, cutting off a bite and giving it to Alice. Then Ruby put the tall coffee mug on Alice’s tray and angled the straw just right.
Mason looked even more astonished at the girls’ familiarity with his mother.
“I thought you liked school,” said Faith.
“I do, but I’m getting picky. If I had to sit through one more lecture in
American Studies, my head would explode.”
“I’d like to see that,” Ruby said softly.
Faith turned to Alice. “We have the rehab place at ten today.”
“It’s on my calendar.”
“The rehab place?” asked Mason.
“I’m getting more training with my driving skills,” said Alice.
“Cool. Mind if I join you?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“I’d like to.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” She took another bite of Cara’s toast.
“I just got here. It’s going to take a few days to find office space in town and get set up.”
“Grab your stuff, Rubes,” said Cara. “Donno is waiting.”
“I haven’t had my breakfast,” Ruby protested. She stuffed her lunch in her backpack, then peeled and ate a banana, dipping it into a cup of plain yogurt. “Two minutes,” she mumbled around the mouthful of banana. “That’s all I need. Two minutes.”
“It’s rude to keep the guy waiting. He’s got better things to do than wait around for us.”
Faith was glad for the end of school, too. No more mornings of bickering and rushing around. “Be good,” she said, giving each girl a quick hug.
Alice went with the aide to get ready for the rehab center. Faith folded her arms across the front of the old nightgown, vowing to be more presentable at breakfast from now on. “Welcome to mornings at the lake,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Probably not as peaceful as a typical morning at your place in the city.”
“Right. I do find inner peace by checking email.”
“Your mother has never shown up so early for breakfast before. Having you here... Maybe it motivated her.”
“Sure. She’s thrilled to pieces. Can’t you tell?”
Faith poured two cups of coffee and slid one across the counter to him. Something very strange happened to her whenever he was around. She felt a powerful and undeniable attraction. It was stupid, of course. He was unavailable in multiple ways—emotionally, physically, socioeconomically. But he was so doggone good-looking. So nice. And funny. And smart.
