Possessions (77 page)

He nodded. “She was always so proud of those.”

“And you left them behind. With everything else. You made yourself into another person . . .?”

He shrugged. “It's not hard, you know. A social security card, a driver's license, a job . . . anyone can get them. And Vancouver was big enough; I could be anonymous.”

“I didn't mean that,” Katherine said. “I was thinking of
inside
 . . .”

“It takes longer.” He shrugged again. “You shed bits of yourself, and it hurts, but you do it. You begin to live a different kind of life and after a while you think of yourself as a different person. If you do it enough, you wake up one day and you know you can't go back to your other life. It's too late.”

Katherine stared at him.
Which one of us is he talking about?

The bottle was empty. Katherine had made another pot of coffee and absently Craig filled both mugs, glancing at the clock as if they were a normal couple wondering if there was time for one more cup before leaving for work. “My God, it's two thirty. I'm keeping you up.”

It was so absurd that they looked at each other and laughed, a soft laugh: the first they had shared. Memories rushed in on Katherine, overwhelming her with images, words, laughter, hope . . . the brilliant light of nostalgic love that burned away the bad times, leaving only the good ones.

She forced herself to stand up and walk away from the table, away from that warm spell. “If you'd told me all this . . . years ago . . .”

“Why? For a while I wanted to, but then I realized that I wanted even more to get away from it, not to be forced to think about Craig Hayward ever again. Why should I tell you about him when I was happy as Craig Fraser? We were both happy; we had a full life together; how would a long confession have helped us?”

“It would have let me share part of your life.”

“A part I hated and wanted to forget.”

“But you never forgot it! You just kept it from me. And then you kept our finances, and other things—”

“You hardly made a point of asking,” he said coldly. “You enjoyed the way we lived without asking if we really had the money to pay for it, or where it came from—”

“I know.” Katherine's face was burning. “I've thought about that. You're right; I should have asked; I should have known what was happening. But that was what you wanted, Craig; someone who wouldn't question your decisions; someone who wouldn't ask questions at all.”

He shook his head.
“You
wanted someone who wouldn't burden you with answers.”

They were silent. “Well,” he said with a short laugh. “An impasse.”

“It always was,” Katherine responded. “But I should have insisted. I've learned that. Then we would have been two grownup people instead of a husband shielding a little-girl wife.”

Craig leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. Then he smiled, almost wistfully. “Do you know, Katherine, I'm not sure it would have made a damn bit of difference what you did or how you behaved. I don't think I could have told you. I never was able to show my weaknesses to people I love.”

Slowly, Katherine walked back to the table and stood beside him. Almost fearfully, she put out her hand and touched his. “That's the first time you ever told me a simple truth about yourself,” she said.

“But it's not true anymore.” He grasped her hand. “I've had sixteen months to think about it; I know what I did to you, to both of us, and I won't let it happen again. I've changed, Katherine; everything will be different now.” He stood and faced her, still holding her hand. “We have a lot invested in each other: ten years, ten wonderful years, and the children—we can't just throw it all away.”

“But that's what you did when you left.” Confused by the tenderness she felt, Katherine eased her hand away and stepped back until she was standing against the counter. “You turned your back on all of us.”

He shook his head. “I did the best I could. It was a lousy solution, but I never really turned my back. I sent you money; I tried to come to you in December. And I thought about us—how we could both change, and start again . . . Katherine, listen to me. I love you. There was a time when we had so much together, we did so much for each other—you haven't forgotten that.”

“No,” she replied. Studying his face, she thought he
had
changed. He was stronger, more open and direct, without having lost the gentleness she had loved. And he looked so much like Todd she found herself wanting to comfort him.

“I'm asking for another chance,” he said. “For the children, for the years and energy we've invested in each other, for the good things we did for each other. We can build something together that we could have had from the beginning, if I hadn't been such a fool, and if you'd been more involved . . .”

Katherine was dizzy under the hammer blows of his reasons. And the question came to her—why not? He'd learned, he'd changed, he was her husband, he was Jennifer's and Todd's father—and surely this tenderness she felt was more than pity . . . wasn't it just as likely a revival of memories, and a renewal of the love she had felt, or the first step back to it?

Watching her intently, Craig said again, “Another chance. To make up to you and the children for what I did—”

“Craig,” Katherine said faintly. “Give me a minute to catch my breath. You're piling everything on—”

“I'm fighting for my life!” he said. “Can't you see that?”

“No,” she answered as another memory returned. “I thought I did. I believed you. But—all this talk about change—even now you aren't being honest with me.”

“What does that mean? After I went through that whole story—tore myself apart over it—told you about everything—”

“Except Elissa.”

He stiffened. His shoulders drew together; his face became smooth and blank, as if he were a deaf person pushing through
a crowded street. Finally he said, “What are you talking about?”

“Craig!” Katherine cried.
“Don't run away!”

Another minute went by. Stiffly, he shook his head, looking past her. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, Craig.” She moved in front of him to force him to look at her, but he turned his head. They stood that way as the silent moments passed, Craig's features rigid and stubbornly defensive. Poor, frightened Craig, Katherine thought. And with that, the same feeling swept through her that had lifted and carried her along when she left Derek in Ghirardelli Square. She was free.

She knew all the stories, now; all the evasions. She knew she had played a part in them, but she also knew that she had learned enough, grown up enough, to leave that passive child-wife behind forever. But Craig still created his evasions, weaving them into a screen of lies and silences that shut out reality whenever he could not face it. And he would never change.

“I spent a day with Elissa, in Calgary,” she told him. Drooping with fatigue, she did not even try to soften it. “I liked her; we liked each other. She's still in love with you. Your carving of the turtle with the little boy is still on the table in front of the couch. All the mementoes of your times together are still there. Her little boy had a hard time when you left. He missed you. Probably as much as Todd and Jennifer did.”

Craig's shoulders slumped. He sat down again, turning his coffee mug around in his hands. “She promised me she'd never call you.”

“She kept her promise. She never called any of us. Ross found her.”

Dully, Craig echoed her words. “‘Ross found her. She never called any of us.
Any of us.'”
His head came up; he looked at her accusingly. “You've lined up with them.”

“This isn't a war,” Katherine shot back. “They're my family. And yours, if you'd let them be.”

He shook his head. “I can't be part of them.”

“But you don't know what's happened; there have been so many changes—”

“I don't want to know! Can't you understand? I've cut them out of my life; I don't want to know anything about them! I got over them! It took years, but I got over feeling sick from
missing them, mostly because I had you to love me and help me make a new family. Katherine, you're all I want—you and the children—”

“And Elissa.”

“My God, can't you let go? You
have
changed. Not just your hair and the way you walk and hold yourself—you've gotten hard. You used to be soft and loving and grateful, but that's all gone.”

“Is it?”

“You act like you don't want anyone to care for you; you don't need anyone . . .”

I need Ross.

“Hank gave me your message; he told me you were waiting for me. What did that mean?”

“I had to talk to you.”

“To finish our marriage. Right? That was how Ross put it.”

“To finish with the past. I wasn't really sure about our marriage.” Katherine hesitated. “Craig,” she said softly. “When you left us, why didn't you go to Elissa?”

He shook his head.

“Because you love her. That's right, isn't it? You couldn't go to her because you couldn't tell her what you'd done.” He sat still, and Katherine sighed. “Earlier tonight you said you didn't have to talk about your family, you didn't even think about them as long as you had me. That wasn't true. You never stopped thinking about them, you had to talk about them, and so you went to Elissa. And after a while, you fell in love with her. Why can't you face that?”

“I love you,” he said. “I came back because you told Hank you were waiting for me.
I'm asking for help.
I keep running away from things—I just did it again, didn't I, trying to deny Elissa? You were leaning toward me—I saw it in your face—until I . . . ran away again. Katherine, I want to repair some of the damage I've done, but I can't do it alone. Don't make me do it alone. Stay with me; help me.”

“I can't. I'm sorry, Craig.” Katherine felt her tears again. He wasn't evil or cruel or even bad; he was a good man too easily overwhelmed by events. He was a man she no longer loved. “We'll do everything we can to help you. Whatever you need, we'll give you—”

“You're speaking for the family?”

“Yes.”

“You mean you're choosing Ross.”

“I mean I can't go with you; I can't live with you.”

Craig pushed back his chair and stood up. “Just a minute.” Katherine watched him close the door of the bathroom behind him. Her muscles ached, her head ached, and she walked through the living room to the front door, opening it to feel the cool, damp air on her face. The sky had grown light; she looked at her watch. Six o'clock. We talked more in the last six hours, she thought, than in all the years of our marriage.

Craig came out of the bathroom and stood beside her. “And the children?” he asked.

“They love you. Wherever you are, they'll come to you, as often as possible, and spend time with you—”

“Visits.”

After a moment, she said, “A lot of children do that, these days.”

“But they'd be visiting. I wanted to live with them again.”

She felt a tug of impatience. “You'll see a lot more of them than you have in the past year and a half.”

“Right,” he said. “You're right. I deserved that.” He went to the door of the bedroom. “I'll just take a quick look goodbye. I won't wake them—I'm not ready to talk to them—I have to figure out what to say. But when I've decided where I'll be, and when I'm settled, you'll let them come?”

“As often as possible.”

He nodded. “Yes, you said that.” He stood in the doorway, as he had hours before. “They curl up in their sleep. I remember that. But they're growing so fast. Jenny is going to be as beautiful as her mother. And Todd . . . Todd looks like me, doesn't he?”

Distantly, a foghorn sounded. “Dad!” Todd shouted. “Dad!” Katherine saw Craig bend down and take in his arms the pajama'd form that flung itself at him.

“Daddy?”
Jennifer asked. Her voice was clouded with sleep and doubt. Instead of dashing to him as Todd had done, she appeared in the doorway, frowning, reaching out to touch Craig's arm, testing its solidity.

“Hello, dear Jenny,” Craig said softly.

Wordlessly, she put up both arms. Craig knelt and held his children, his eyes meeting Katherine's over their tousled heads,
accusing her. They love me, his eyes said. And you want to keep us apart.

“Where's your suitcase?” asked Todd as they sat on the couch. “Where are you going to put everything? We'll have to move, now, won't we, Mom? Are we going back to Canada?”

Jennifer looked at her mother and then at her father. “You're not staying,” she said flatly.

“He is too!” Todd cried. “You are, aren't you, Dad?”

“No,” Craig said. “I'd like to but I can't. Your mother—”

Katherine caught her breath. Don't run away from it, she begged silently. Don't blame it all on me. Face it, Craig.
Please.

“Why aren't you?” Todd demanded.

“Are you going to get a divorce?” Jennifer asked.

“We haven't talked about it.” Craig's skin was tight over his face, like a mask; his mouth worked. And then a long sigh broke from him. “But, you see, I left all of you—which was a terrible thing to do—and then I stayed away too long. And your mother and I changed. People do change, you know,” he said, looking directly at Katherine. “We really aren't the same people we were. It's nobody's fault, but it happened. So that's what we're going to do. Get a divorce.”

“Shit,” muttered Todd, and no one scolded him.

After a moment, Jennifer asked, “Why did you go away?”