Fix You (24 page)

“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 feel 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.

His mouth was parched, and he reached out to the table next
to his bed, his hand groping for a glass of water. He came up empty.

It took Matty’s wail to echo through the wall before he
realized exactly where he was.

In London.

In a hotel.

In the middle of the night.

He sat straight up in his bed, reaching behind him to flick
the light switch on the wooden headboard. The bedside lamp glowed warm and
yellow, enough to illuminate but not startle. Everything in this room had been
planned to pamper and coddle.

There was another cry, followed by a lower voice. Hanna was
murmuring to him, maybe trying to relax him back to sleep. From the sound of
his angry riposte, Matty was having none of it.

Pulling back the covers, Richard swung his legs out of bed,
glancing down to check he was covered enough to be seen. His plaid pajama
bottoms hung from his hips, his chest bare and glowing under the glare of the
lamp.

He walked across the expensive carpet and out into the main
room, pushing the door open quietly in case Matty had already dropped back to
sleep. Hanna was pacing the wooden floor in her bare feet. The lacquer on her
nails was almost black in the half-light. Matty struggled in her arms, his
hands beating her back as she made a doomed attempt to placate him.

“Everything okay?” Richard’s voice was soft as he approached
her, but she jumped, nevertheless. Hanna looked up at him, her eyes wide,
giving him an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you up. He escaped
from the cot. It must be shallower than the one we have at home.” One of the
straps of her camisole had slipped down her shoulder revealing smooth,
alabaster skin. It looked like porcelain in the dark room.

“Is he okay?” Richard’s brow furrowed. “It must have been a
long way down.”

Hanna smiled. “He’s fine. He made it into this room before I
was even aware what was happening. I swear he has a bright future ahead of him
as an escape artist.”

As if he realized they were talking about him, Matty wailed
again, his tone taking on a desperate edge. He looked up at Richard with
red-rimmed eyes, his face screwed up in anger.