by Carrie Elks
“Do you want to talk?”
Her stomach lurched. It was the moment she’d been waiting for all week, but now it was here she was trembling with fear.
She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Richard pushed himself off the wall and headed for the living room. She trailed in his wake, her mind a myriad of thoughts and worries.
There was an open bottle of red wine on the coffee table next to two half-filled glasses. Hanna wondered if it was a good idea to drink alcohol with Richard near. He already filled her senses until she thought she would burst. How much worse would it be to face him with the false bravado that wine would give her?
“I thought this might help.” He lifted a glass and offered it to her. Hanna grasped the stem, feeling the fragility of the crystal. She wondered if it would snap if she got any tenser.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sitting opposite him. The coffee table was between them, a welcome barrier. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a sip, letting the warm, ambient fluid dance around her taste buds before swallowing.
Richard cleared his throat. “Our son is beautiful.”
She nodded again, the lump in her throat growing. “He is.”
“I’m still so fucked up over everything that’s happened, but we need to concentrate on Matty.” He was running his finger around the rim of his glass. “His happiness is the most important thing.”
“It’s all I care about,” she agreed with a small voice.
“You’re a wonderful mother, Hanna. I don’t want to take him away from you.”
She felt like she could breathe for the first time in forever.
“But I need to be with him, too,” he added, before whispering. “Now I’ve gotten to know him, I don’t want to let him go.”
“I know.” Her heart filled with love. “I want you to be with him. You’re his father, and he loves you.” It was clear to her, from the way Matty stared up at Richard adoringly. “I’ve never seen him accept anybody so fast.”
Richard drained his glass, before setting it down on the table. “But the fact remains, we live in different countries. Hell, we’re on different continents for Christ’s sake.”
There it was again; the barrier which had haunted them for twelve years, only now with added complications.
“We can make this work,” Hanna argued, unsure of who she was trying to convince. “If we’re both willing to try.”
Richard leaned forward, and for a moment she wished the coffee table would disappear.
“I’m willing to try.”
Her mouth was too dry to swallow, and she could feel her heartbeat start to race as his stare remained on her face. His eyes were dark in the ambient glow of the lamplight, but the green halo surrounding them kept her gaze captured.
“We’ll move to New York, Matty and I.” Her mouth opened before her brain engaged, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry. “I’ll find an apartment and we can share custody there.”
His eyebrows rose with surprise. “You’d do that?”
Hanna was almost as shocked as him. She slowly nodded. “Yes, I’d do that. Matty deserves to see you, not only for holidays, but in the evenings, and on weekends. I can’t think of another way.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
She gave him a small smile. “There’s no need to say anything. I’m doing this for me as much as for you two.” She leaned forward and put her glass down on the table. At the same moment, Richard reached out and captured her hand in his. She gasped at the contact, the warmth of his hand, and the roughness of his skin. It was the first time they had really touched in two years. Memories flooded her soul, until they were a constant ache in her chest.
She stared at the way his hand curled around hers, the warm hue of his skin contrasting with her own, paler flesh. Drawing in a ragged breath, she willed herself to lift up her eyes, wanting to see what emotion was behind his move.
When she finally looked at his face, she saw him staring back. His expression was tender. She knew he was grateful for her offer, and nothing more, but it didn’t stop her heart from racing as she took in his gentle smile and the shallow lines around his eyes. The years hadn’t diminished his beauty; he seemed to have grown into his looks, and the way the emotions were spilling out of her gut she knew of one undeniable fact.
She was still in love with Richard Larsen.
HANNA TRIED NOT to grimace as they walked across the tarmac, but it was a losing battle when she saw the white jet waiting for them. It was lower to the ground than she was used to, six galvanized metal steps away, and the five portholes facing her were gleaming and bright.
She turned to look at Matty, who was clinging to Richard’s neck with one arm, his other pointing at the plane.
“That?” he asked, and Hanna allowed herself to smile.
“It’s a plane. It’s going to take us up into the sky.” She reached out and touched his cheek.
“All the way to London,” Richard added.
And the frown was back again.
“You okay?” he asked, noticing the way she withdrew.
Hanna nodded her head. She would be, once they got the trip to London over with. She was afraid to see Claire and Steven, and was thinking of staying in the hotel when Richard took Matty to meet them. She knew she was a coward, but there was only one way this meeting could possibly end.
In tears.
“I’m afraid this thing is only taking us to London.” Richard tapped his hand on the jet, making a clanging, metallic sound. “We need to fly scheduled to New York.”
“How dreadful,” Hanna allowed herself to crack a smile. “I hate slumming it.”
Richard’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t you I was feeling sorry for. It was all the other passengers once we let our boy loose on the plane.”
Hanna closed her eyes and tried to picture Matty running up the aisle of first class, knocking over drinks and disturbing angry businessmen. Maybe a three-day layover in London wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
They climbed up the steps. She took Matty from Richard’s arms as he stopped to chat with the pilot, discussing the flight plan and arrival times. Walking into the main cabin, she felt herself gasp; it was so very different to the standard class she usually frequented. The bright colors of the airline had been replaced by muted cream leather and dark walnut veneer. It had a calming effect, and as she sat down in her seat, with Matty in her lap, she allowed herself to relax.
“We’ll be leaving in ten minutes, they’re doing the final check,” Richard explained, as he walked into the cabin. Matty’s head turned automatically at his father’s voice, his eyes seeking him out as he walked over to them. “Hey little guy, are you looking forward to the flight?” He looked up at Hanna. “Did you bring a bottle for his ears?”
“It’s right here.” She pointed to the table in front of them. “I’ve filled it with water.”
They were both afraid he’d inherited Hanna’s ear problems. She had trouble every time she flew, and the thought of her son going through the same sort of pain was too much to bear. They’d brought bottles and pacifiers in the hope he would be able to suck and alleviate any pressure in his canals.
“If your ears hurt, I can take him.” Richard promised, helping Hanna fit the seat-belt extension around Matty’s waist. He was too young to sit alone in a seat.
“I’m hoping they’ll be okay since it’s a shorter flight. It’s the one on Friday I need to worry about.”
Richard rubbed the top of her arm, and she felt herself stiffen. She didn’t want to let him know how much his kindness affected her.
“We’ll see. I’ll be there to help.”
It took Richard longer to get through passport control, again. Hanna used the time to change Matty’s diaper and freshen herself up, trying not to look too closely at her drawn face in the mirror as she applied a stroke of lip-gloss. When they emerged, Richard was waiting for them, his eyes as tired as Hanna’s.
“If it makes you fe
el any better, it will be my turn for the interrogation in New York.” She stopped herself from reaching out a hand to cup his cheek.
“You have an American passport,” he pointed out.
“I do, but Matty doesn’t. Not yet.”
Richard lifted his son from her arms, placing him on the handle of the trolley he was pushing. “What’s on his birth certificate?” His voice was light, but she could sense the tension behind his question.
“Just my name.” She had registered him at the Consulate in France.
“We’ll need to change that, too.” Richard frowned, looking down at Matty. “He needs to have my name there. I’ll speak to my lawyers.”
Hanna glanced up, taking in the concern on his face. This was clearly important to him. “Of course. We’ll need to sort out some sort of visa for him if we’re going to stay in New York.”
“Lisa’s already on to it. Everything should be ready for Thursday.”
Richard set up Matty’s buggy, and Hanna lifted him in gently, pulling the straps across him, tickling his legs enough to make him giggle. She hadn’t asked Richard where they were staying, or how they were getting there, but she was suddenly desperate to know.
This was London. It was her city, her playground. She was delighted to be home, if only for a few days.
“Where are we staying?” She maneuvered Matty’s buggy across the polished tile floor. Richard matched her pace, pushing the luggage trolley. It was piled high with suitcases full of clothes and toys and the usual baby paraphernalia.
“I’ve booked us a suite at the Dorchester,” Richard said. “There are two bedrooms. I’ve asked for a cot to be put in your room.”
Hanna smiled. She didn’t like the thought of their son in his own room in a strange place. It was much better to have him with her. “Thank you for arranging it.”
He stared for a moment, allowing a grin to pull at his lips. Her heart stopped beating for a moment.
“I should thank you. You’re the one uprooting everything and moving thousands of miles.”
“It’s the right thing to do.” Hanna said simply. Richard reached out and squeezed her hand, where it gripped the handle of the buggy. Her breath hitched at the unexpected gesture.
“Thank you, anyway,” he whispered. She lifted her hand and squeezed back.
They were nearly at the end of the walkway when Richard’s face dropped, his mouth falling open. He stopped walking, glancing at Hanna with concern, and she felt her heart start to race.
Something was wrong.
“I asked them not to do this.” He held her hand tightly, as if he was afraid she’d run. “I’m sorry, Hanna, I promise I’ll be with you.”
She followed his line of sight. Standing at the edge of the crowd, staring at the two of them with open mouths, were Steven and Claire. Neither looked particularly happy—or pleased to see them—but she noticed with relief their expressions softened as soon as they saw Matty. He was wriggling in his buggy, singing to himself.
All hopes of avoiding confrontation seemed futile. She allowed Richard to pull them both toward his parents, his grip on her hand never wavering. She inhaled deeply, trying to keep her breaths steady, rearranging her expression to try and hide her fear.
“Richard!” Claire ran across the last few feet, flinging her arms around him. Hanna watched as he hugged her back, before turning to Steven and shaking his hand. They all leaned down to talk to Matty.
Matty’s face crumpled, and his mouth opened to emit a loud wail. Claire and Steven jumped at the sound, stepping backwards to give him some space. Richard could feel Hanna tensed beside him, and when he looked at her face, he saw concern and agitation etched across it. He knew her well enough to understand that she wanted to comfort her son, but was afraid to upset his parents by pushing through and lifting Matty out of his pram. He squeezed her hand and leaned down, unstrapping the buckles across his son’s waist and lifting him out, murmuring comforting words as he cradled his head.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
Matty pulled his thumb between his lips, slurping on the tip. Soundless sobs made his chest hitch rhythmically, his eyes wet as he scrunched them tight. “Mama…”
Richard turned to Hanna, who reached out and cupped Matthew’s cheek, her hand reassuring as she stroked his soft skin.
Claire stood up. “Hanna.”
“Claire. How are you?” Matty grabbed Hanna’s hand and she squeezed him back.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Claire shook her head, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. “I can’t even tell you how I’m feeling right now.”
“I can. I’m pretty pissed, Hanna.” Steven interjected, causing Claire to place her hand on his shoulder. He stood up straight, his startling blue eyes cold as he stared at Hanna, shaking his head slowly. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Wait a minute…” Richard stepped forward, handing Matty to Hanna. She lifted him by his padded bottom. He wrapped his hands around her neck, chest still wracked with sobs. “Whatever happened here is between Hanna and me. I don’t need you to fight my battles.”
Claire stepped between them, her face unreadable. “There’s no fighting going on here, Richard. We just want some answers. I think we’re entitled to that.”
Behind her, Steven had the countenance of a man on the edge. He held himself too still, his face too calm. For the first time in his life, Richard could feel himself having to front up to his father. Hanna remained silent, and from the corner of his eye he could see her trembling. He wanted to reach out and pull her toward him, crush her in his arms.
“This isn’t really the time or place, Claire. I said we’d meet you at the house so we could avoid just this sort of spectacle.” Richard gestured at the crowded airport. They were being jostled every few moments by passengers trying to get past.
“I just want to speak to Hanna, okay? Not as the mother of your child, or the girl who left you, but like the daughter I used to know.” Claire wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Can we go and get a coffee or something?”
He turned to look at Hanna, who nodded quickly. Matty was staring at them all, his thumb still attached to his mouth. The tears had dried a shiny trail on his cheeks, reflecting in the harsh glare of the airport lights.
“Claire, Steven, this is Matty.” Hanna inhaled deeply before stepping forward. “Matty, this is—” She frowned and looked at Claire. “What shall I call you?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never had to think about it.” Claire stood for a moment, lips pulled down as she thought things through. “I guess my mom was a Grandma, so I’ll be the same.” She turned to look at Steven. He was staring at Matthew, his eyes scanning his hair and his face.
“There’s no doubt about it, he’s the spit of you, Richard.” He reached out a finger and tickled Matty’s chin, making him hiccup a watery giggle. “I suppose ‘Pops’ will do.”
“Matty, can you say hello to Grandma and Pops?” Hanna asked him, bouncing him in her arms.
Matty pulled his thumb from his mouth with a pop before pursing his lips. “Hi.” He waved his hand.
“Clever boy.” Richard smiled, reaching out to caress his curls. Matty grinned and clapped his hands, not afraid to blow his own trumpet.
“He’s beautiful.” Claire pulled Richard toward her, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, darling.” Richard stepped back, face flushing with embarrassment. He wasn’t sure what to say in response.
“He is beautiful,” Steven agreed. “Hanna, I apologize for my anger. You need to give me a bit of time to get over this.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize.” Her face fell. She was clasping Matty against her body like a talisman. “I know this is all my fault and I can’t tell you how hard I’m going to try to make up for it.” She looked over at Richard, her eyes catching his.
“It isn’t all your fault,” he interjected. He collapsed the buggy and put it on top of the cases, before turning to squeeze Hanna’s
shoulder. “We all fucked up somewhere along the way. I should have called you, and my mother should have told me you called…”
“Caroline knew about this?” Steven’s voice was icy. He lifted his hand and dragged it through his thick blond hair. “What the hell?”
“She told Hanna that Meredith was in a wheelchair and I’d never leave her.” Richard told his father. Despite the bustle of the airport, it was as though the five of them were suspended in a bubble. People were giving them a wide birth as they walked around them. Richard wasn’t sure if it was because of the latent anger in the air, or the way they were all holding themselves so upright it looked unnatural.
“I’d called to tell Richard about the pregnancy,” Hanna added. “She didn’t know, though, that I was pregnant, I mean.”
“It doesn’t really matter whether she knew or not. She’s an interfering—” Steven managed to catch himself in time. From the corner of his eye, Richard noticed Claire trying to bite down a smile. “Have you spoken to her about it, Richard?”
“I’m not ready to speak to her at all. When I do—if I do—then I’ll be sure to give her your regards.”
Matty squirmed in Hanna’s arms until he was facing Claire. He reached out his hand and touched her hair, making Claire laugh when he tugged. For the first time, Steven’s face softened, a half smile whispering across his lips. Richard’s breath escaped in a gust.
They walked over to a café near the exit, trying to avoid the milling passengers. Hanna and Claire walked ahead, Claire holding Matty’s outstretched hand, a smile plastered over her face. They all knew the ordeal wasn’t over yet, that the divides hadn’t been bridged, but Richard could feel himself hope that one day they would be.
If he squinted his eyes and looked into the future, there was nothing he wanted more than to be surrounded by all the people he loved.
A CRASHING SOUND coming from another room woke him up. His eyes were bleary and glued by sleep, the room dark and unfamiliar. He rubbed them a little, trying to orient himself, the strange green light of the bedside clock not helping him to work out his location.
