A Father for Philip (19 page)

It was shady as it had been before, and
moss-filled still, with feathery ferns hanging over the sides, creating the
most secure and private of places. Eleanor stood in the center of it for a
moment, her eyes tightly shut, filling her mind with the memory of sent, of
sound, and then she dropped to her knees in the thick mattress of moss. “Oh,
David,” she whispered. “I never forgot. How could you have so forgotten for so
many years?” A stray breeze whispered through the branches with a ghostly,
derisive chuckle.

Eleanor leapt up and ran from under the
tree, letting her feet follow the path which led to the forestry road. She soon
saw the camper. Curiosity overcame her as she peeked in the door, which hung
open. If she wanted to talk to David she might as well wait in comfort for his
return. She stepped inside the compact little home, noting the three burner
stove, the tiny oven below, the small fridge, and the neatly made bunk which
jutted out over the cab of the truck. There was a window under that bunk which
gave view through the windshield of the road beyond, and one more window on
either side. Through the window on her right, a beam of sunlight glanced in,
picking up a reflection, flashing it in her eyes. Eleanor turned to see what
was so bright, and was struck by the beauty of a gold filigree picture frame.
She plucked it from its crooked perch above the stove, and stood staring for a
long moment while she felt as if all life drained from her.

With shaking hands she replaced the
picture exactly as she had found it and stumbled from the camper, back into the
woods, and ran home.

Grant was waiting for her. Eleanor saw
his car pull in to the farmyard above before he had seen her coming. She
composed herself as best she could and walked sedately, her head held high,
toward him.

“Well,” he said heavily, “I’m ready… Are
you ready to agree to marry me?”

“No. I will not marry you. I’m sorry,
Grant, but I already told you that.”

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Oh,
don’t worry, I’m not going to argue with you, it’s just that you look like
you’ve had a shock. Did you learn something about your husband’s past?”

“As a matter of fact,” she said, “yes. I
did.”

“Are you going back to him?” he asked.

“No, Grant. I’m going to divorce David.
For desertion.”

Eleanor refused to expand on her
previous two statements. She would not marry him. She would not remain married
to David. She did, however, agree to dine with Grant that night; a farewell
dinner, she called it, and though he accepted outwardly, she could tell by the
exultant expression in his eyes, he was thinking of it as a celebration dinner.
Of course, being Grant, he would only see her decision to divorce David as an
opportunity for himself. She agreed because she wasn’t sure she could stay away
from David, though she hadn’t quite decided if she wanted to go after him with
the axe he’d told her Philip used, or with her heart in her hands.

Philip dragged ‘Jeff’ into the house
with him that afternoon when school was finished. Eleanor heard them coming in
and steeled herself to meet David. “Come on, Jeff. Let’s ask her. I bet she’d
like a night off cooking.” Then catching sight of his mother, he said rapidly,
“Mom! We got the fireplace ready to light today an’ the roof and floors an’
everything’s are finished an’ the glass is in the windows and we’re going to
cook hotdogs over the fire tonight for our dinner. Can I go Mom, and will you
come too?”

Oh, no! she cried inside. Not tonight!
Why tonight of all nights? How can I disappoint him with what I have to tell him
looming so close on the horizon? I have to go, and I have to keep up a good
pretense of happiness for him. I can do it. I must do it!

 “Thank you, sweetie, I’d love to
have you cook my dinner over that new fireplace. I did have other plans, but
I’ll go up to the big house and put them off until tomorrow. Would you like me
to bring the popcorn and the long handled popper, as my contribution?”

“Oh, Mom! Sure!” Philip gave her a big
hug, his skinny little arms digging into her waist. Over her head she saw David
give her a grateful look. “Hurry! Hurry!” Philip yelled, darting from her to
the doorway. “I’m starving and we have to see if the chimney smokes before we
can start cooking. Jeff went into town today and bought the wieners and buns
and marshmallows and chocolate and Graham wafers for s’mores.”

“That certainly sounds like a feast,”
she said.

“Tell you what, son,” David said. “We’ll
go on ahead and get the fire started and leave your mother to come soon she
can. Then, if it smokes she won’t get it in her eyes.”

“Okay,” replied Philip, and bounded off,
the pup following close behind him.

“David… Wait,” Eleanor spoke urgently as
he made to go after Philip. “I have to tell you. I’m… I’m sorry. I’m going to
go into town on Monday and see a lawyer… To start divorce proceedings.”

David’s face turned a deathly shade of
gray. He opened his mouth but no words came. He closed his lids over almost
black eyes for a moment and swallowed. Eleanor watched his reaction with
growing horror. “The date,” he said in a strained voice, opening his eyes to
look at her, “The one you have to postpone… With Grant?”

She nodded. “But not what—” It was
pointless to go on. David had bolted off into the late afternoon glare and for
a long moment Eleanor watched his moving silhouette until he finally
disappeared into the trees.

Numbly, she called Grant, explained the
situation, listened apathetically to his arguments, accepted his grudging
agreement to put off their date until the following day, and called her
babysitter to cancel.

Later, walking toward the woods with the
setting sun behind her casting long black knives of shadow across the meadow,
Eleanor recalled the look on David’s face when she’d told him of her plans.
Never had she seen a human being become so old, so ill, in such a short space
of time. He had been grave, clearly worried, before she spoke, but after her
words had tumbled out, he had looked like death.

But why? Why should he look like that at
the thought of losing her when she had seen that picture in his camper? She had
been haunted by the memory of it all day. The beautiful woman, with her
enormous dark eyes, eyes full of deep, eternal sadness and wisdom, as if she
faced a certain and terrible future—a future without David? If so, why? No. It
made more sense to think perhaps she faced no future at all, as if she’d been
given a death sentence before that picture was taken. If she’d died, that would
explain why he’d come back. Long, curling black hair hung over her shoulder to
mingle with the equally dark hair of the lovely little girl in her arms. The
child was the image of her mother, with eyes just as dark, but gleaming with
life, happiness, in stark contrast to what the woman’s eyes revealed. But, even
if the woman was dead, what of the child? How could David have left her? Why,
when he had that portrait signed ‘with deepest love from Manuela and Juanita’,
had he come back to her, to plain ordinary Eleanor, whom he had chosen to
forget for all those years?

Could it be that the woman had somehow
found out about her and her son and sent David away? As Eleanor’s feet beat an
unerring path to David, her heart, her mind, were doing the same, for he was
part of her, even while she could not accept what he had done. He had been
right not take the risk of telling her the reason for his long absence. Knowing
how she felt about the years she had spent alone, he must’ve known, too, that
the knowledge he’d spent them in another woman’s arms, another woman’s home and
life, would destroy her faith in herself. It had. Where did I go wrong? she
asked herself. Where did I fail him? Was I too young? Was it the fact that I
was too ill with Philip to go with him? Was it that he knew how I hated having
to leave my father? What?

As the tortured thoughts whipped
back-and-forth through her mind, Eleanor had been walking steadily along the
forest path, and found herself once more in the clearing. Philip waited
impatiently outside the cabin.

“Mom! What took you so long? Hurry up!”
he called excitedly. “The chimney draws like it should and Jeff says that
because it’s crooked. I made it crooked, Mom ’cause I was too short to reach up
and get all the rocks in just the right place and before Jeff noticed, the
mortar was dry. Oh good. You remembered the popcorn. Come and look at my
horseshoe.” He dragged her to the doorway and pointed up at the lintel, where
on a big nail, hung a horseshoe. “It’s mine, Mom. My very own. Jeff and Si gave
it to me for my birthday.” He paused for breath, and then went on, “Did you
know that me and Jeff are going to live in the cabin for as many summers as I
like? Oh I forgot, Jeff says we have to ask you first, Mom. Can I, Mom, please?
Can I?” His trusting eyes searched hers for the answer and then he added, “I’ll
be close to home, Mom, and I promise to come and visit you every day.”

“I don’t see why not, honey,” she said
with what she hoped was a smile. “If you want to, you certainly may.”

David appeared in the doorway of a small
room at the far end of the cabin. He approached the other two with a travesty
of a smile on his face. “I see you made it,” he observed unnecessarily,
relieving her of the popcorn popper and the bag of kernels. His eyes were bleak
and dark. “I’m glad… For Philip’s sake.” One hand touched her elbow lightly,
but burning nevertheless. She jerked it away. “Come look around, Eleanor.”

The interior of the cabin was lit by the
glow of the fire and the small amount of daylight admitted by the two tiny
windows. Against one wall stood a handmade table, its top of pine boards, its
legs of tapered timbers, plain and sanded to a smooth finish. There were three
chairs made of poles with braided cedar bark woven into seats. Three bowls made
from maple burls lay on the table, polished to a high shine, which caught the
firelight and threw it softly against the wall and reflected in the window.

The dim doorway from which David had
emerged showed the end of a large, heavy-framed bed of what must be polished
yellow cedar and Eleanor forced her eyes to flick past that and come to rest on
the fireplace, which was a small replica of the one in her cottage.

“Pretty good, huh, Mom?” Philip asked
with loud excitement. She didn’t have the heart to remind him to used his
‘indoor” voice. “See my bunk?” And he ran to the narrow, deep bunk built from
the same wood as the other one, against the wall right next to the fireplace.
“This is where I’ll sleep on those cold winter nights when the wind screams
down from the Yukon and the wolves howl around outside looking for a way in.
But they won’t get me because I’ll be warm and snug in my bed by the fire and
Jeff will be warm and snug in his bed with his sweet lady and when the fire
burns low it will be my job to throw more wood on it.” He sucked in a great
gulp of air and would surely have gone on breaking his mother’s heart had
‘Jeff’ not intervened.

“Phil,” David said, and his quiet voice
seemed to fill the empty corners of the cabin. “That was only a game of pretend
that we played. There are no wolves around here. Why not show your mother the
spit where we’re going to cook the bear steaks and moose roasts and hot dogs?”

After the hot dogs in lieu of moose
roast had been devoured, Philip squatted in front of the fire, his face glowing
red as he vigorously shook the corn popper and listened enthralled to the
clatter of kernels bursting against the lid. Steam rose from the small pan of
butter melting near the coals and when the sound of popping had ceased, Philip
turned to the adults, his face the epitome of bliss. “Think it’s done?” he
asked, and at Eleanor’s nod, carefully carried the popper to the table where
David poured its contents into the three bowls.

Eleanor picked up the pan of butter and
stood holding it while Philip placed the bowls, one by one, in front of each
chair. “One for Papa Bear, one for Mama Bear and one for Boy Bear.”

Tears burned suddenly in Eleanor’s eyes.
She blinked them away, but not before her sharp eyed little son had noticed.
“What’s the matter, Mom?”

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes
and smiled at him. “Just a little smoke from the fire.”

“Aw, Mom… I bet you were going to cry
cause I said ‘Boy Bear’ not ‘Baby Bear.’ What we need is a baby so you won’t
mind me being a boy.”

Eleanor couldn’t prevent her glance
flying to David’s. The knowledge that the possibility existed stood stark in
his eyes as she knew it did in hers, although until this moment of tacit
communication, neither had admitted even to themselves that it was there. “I
don’t mind having a boy, not a baby,” Eleanor said hurriedly, her voice
sounding unnaturally high. “What I think we need right now is Goldilocks. My
popcorn porridge is too hot.”

Over Philip’s giggles, David spoke
quietly and Eleanor’s ear. “I’m sure that could be arranged. Probably at the
hotel. He does have pretty gold curls.”

The bitterness in his tone was too much for
Eleanor. She wheeled and ran out of the cabin, tears streaming down her face,
sobs choking her as she headed for home. David caught her the edge of the
clearing.

“Eleanor! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come
back. Let’s not ruin his housewarming party for him.”

She buried her face in her hands, trying
to regain control. She trembled violently as he held her shoulders, pulling her
tight against his chest. At last she raised her head. “I’m all right,” she said
dully. “I’m ready to go back now.”

They sat in the firelight in the warm
little cabin, on the slates of the raised hearth, ate sticky s’mores with
scorched marshmallows and sang silly songs for an hour, accompanied by Eleanor
on the guitar which David produced. When Philip was yawning too much to
continue singing, Eleanor put the guitar up on the table. “Come on, Boy Bear.
Time to go home and get you into bed.”

“Can I sleep here, Mom? It’s warm
enough.”

David looked directly at Eleanor for the
first time since he had brought her back. His eyes begged.

“How about tomorrow night, Phil?” she
suggested. “I have to go out and Cindy can’t come. I had her booked for
tonight, but I canceled, and tomorrow she sitting for the Peters.” Eleanor
turned to David to explain, “Cindy Exley is my regular babysitter… So if you wouldn’t
mind…?”

His words, calm and quiet, belied the
expression of his face. “I don’t mind Eleanor. I’ll walk you and Philip home.”

~ * ~

The next night Eleanor tried to be good
company for Grant. He ordered champagne and raised his glass in a toast. “To your
freedom,” he said.

She tried to laugh at his jokes, with an
effort made her arms and legs go through the motions of dancing. She made a
brave attempt to put some animation into her voice, but she know it was all for
nothing. “I’ll take you home,” said Grant. “I can see you’re really not with me
tonight.”

At the door to her house, when she
turned to say thank you to him and he lifted her face to kiss her, Eleanor
turned aside so his lips met her ear. “Goodbye, Grant. I’m sorry.”

“Goodbye? Oh, no. Not that easily,
Ellie. Goodnight, maybe, but I am going to go with you to visit that lawyer on
Monday… Just to be sure that you really go.”

“I’ll go, Grant. But it doesn’t change
anything where my feelings for you are concerned. I’m sorry.” she repeated, and
slipped inside, closing the door on him.

Eleanor, planning to sleep late on
Sunday to make the day seem as short as possible, was surprised to look at her
clock and see if it only five-sixteen when Philip’s cold hands touched her.
“Mom?” he said plaintively. “Mom, wake up! Jeff’s sick. He got up a little
while ago and went to the camper for some medicine and when he didn’t come back
I went to look for him and he’s lying on the floor. He won’t sit up or talk or
nothing! Will you come?”