Safe Harbour (30 page)

“Nothing happened,” she said, with eyes that only stared, and a heart that had been gouged out with a single letter. They had done it together. He and Andrea. It had taken them a year, but they had finally killed her. Ophélie turned to look at Pip as though she couldn't see her. As though she was blind suddenly. The robot had returned, and it was utterly, totally broken, with sparks shooting everywhere, a system that had misfired and was self-destroying as Pip watched. “I'm going to bed now” was all she said to Pip, and then turned off the lights and lay there, staring into space. Pip would have screamed if she had dared, but she was afraid to make things even worse. She ran to her father's den then and dialed the phone. She was crying when he answered. He couldn't understand her at first, and he sounded unusually happy.

“Something happened… there's something wrong with my mother.” Matt came sharply to earth as he listened. He had never heard Pip sound like that, not even close. She was panicked, and he could hear the tremor in her voice.

“Is she hurt? Tell me quickly, Pip. Do you need to call 911?”

“I don't know. I think she's gone crazy. She won't tell me.” She described everything that had happened, and he asked to speak to her mother. But when she went back to her mother's room, the door was locked and she wouldn't answer. Pip was crying harder when she came back to speak to him on the phone. He didn't like the sound of any of it, but he was afraid to make matters worse by calling the police and having them break down the door. He told Pip to go back and knock again, and tell her he was on the phone.

Pip knocked for a long time, and she could finally hear a sound in the room. It sounded as though something had fallen down, like a lamp or a table, and then slowly she opened the door. She looked like she'd been crying, and still was, but she didn't look as crazed as she had half an hour before.

Pip looked at her in despair, and touched her hand as though to make sure she was real, and spoke in a shaking voice. “Matt's on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him I'm tired,” she said, looking down at her now-only child, as though seeing her for the first time. “I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry …” She finally understood what she was doing to her child, it was what they had done to her. “Tell him I can't talk right now. I'll call him tomorrow.”

“He says if you don't talk to him, he's coming in.” Ophélie wanted to tell her that she shouldn't have called him, but she knew Pip had no one else to call.

Ophélie didn't say another word, she walked back into her bedroom and picked up the phone. It was dark, but Pip could see the lamp she'd knocked over on the floor. It was the noise she had heard. She had stumbled in the dark.

“Hello.” It sounded like a voice from the dead, and Matt was as worried as Pip had been.

“Ophélie, what's happening? Pip is scared to death. Do you want me to come in?” She knew he would, all she had to do was ask, but she didn't want him or anyone else. Not even Pip. Not yet. Not right now. Or maybe ever. She had never felt so alone in her life, not even on the day he died.

“I'm all right,” she said unconvincingly. “Don't come in.”

“Tell me what happened.” He was firm, and strong.

“I can't.” It was the voice of a waif. “Not now.”

“I want you to tell me what's wrong.” She shook her head, and he could hear her sob. He was worried sick. “I'm coming in.”

“Please don't. I want to be alone.” She sounded saner again. She was coming in and out of some kind of hysteria, or panic, and he had no idea what it was.

“You can't do this to Pip.”

“I know…I know… I'm sorry …” She couldn't stop crying.

“I want to come in, but I don't want to intrude on you. I wish I knew what the hell is happening.”

“I can't talk about it now.”

“Do you think you can pull yourself together?” It sounded like she had snapped, and at that distance, he couldn't assess how bad it was. It sounded pretty bad to him. And he had no idea what had caused it. Maybe the holiday. Maybe she couldn't stand the reality of her double loss. What he didn't know was that it was now a treble loss, she had lost not only Ted and Chad, but all her illusions about their marriage as well. It was almost more than she could bear.

“I don't know,” she said in answer to his question.

“Do you want me to get help?” He was still thinking of calling 911. He thought of calling Andrea, she was closer, but a sixth sense he didn't quite trust told him not to call anyone.

“No, don't call. I'll be all right. I just need time.”

“Do you have anything you can take to calm down?” Although he didn't like that idea either. He didn't want her sedated and alone with Pip. That would be upsetting for her too.

“I don't need anything to calm down. I'm dead. They killed me.” She was crying harder again.

“Who killed you?”

“I don't want to talk about it. Ted is gone.”

“I know he is. I know …” It was worse than he thought, and for a minute he wondered if she was drunk.

“I mean really gone. Forever. And so is our marriage. I'm not even sure it ever was.” Andrea's reassurances meant nothing now.

“I understand,” he said, mostly to calm her down.

“No, you don't. And neither did I. I found a letter.”

“From Ted?” He sounded shocked. “Like a suicide note?” He suddenly wondered if he had killed himself and Chad. It would have explained how she sounded. Not much else would.

“A homicide note.” Ophélie was not making sense. But clearly, something terrible had happened.

“Ophélie, do you think you can get through the night?”

“Do I have a choice?” She sounded dead.

“No, you don't, not with Pip there. The only choice you have is whether I come into town or not.” But for once, he didn't want to leave the beach. He wanted to explain it to her, but not now. It had to wait.

“I can get through the night.” What difference did it make now? Nothing did, from her perspective.

“I want you and Pip to come out tomorrow.” It was what they had planned, and now more than ever, he wanted her there, or he would come in.

“I don't think I can.” She was being honest with him. She couldn't imagine driving to Safe Harbour. And he didn't like the idea either. She was in no condition to drive.

“If you're not up to it, I'll drive in. I'll call you in the morning. And I'll call you in an hour to see how you are. Maybe you should sleep alone tonight, if you're too upset. It sounds like you need some time to yourself, and this might be hard on Pip.” It already was.

“I'll ask her what she wants. You don't have to call me back. I'll be fine.”

“I'm not convinced yet,” he said, sounding strained, he was worried about both of them. “Let me talk to Pip.” She called Pip to the phone, and Pip took it in the den. Matt told her to call him if anything happened, and if things got too bad, to call 911.

“She looks a little better,” Pip reported, and when she went back to see her mother, Ophélie had turned the lights on in her room. She still looked deathly pale, but she was trying to reassure Pip.

“I'm sorry. I just…I think I got scared.” It was all she could say to explain what had happened to her. She was not going to tell her the story. Ever. Or that Andrea's baby was her half brother.

“Me too,” Pip said quietly, and crawled onto her mother's bed and into her arms. She felt icy cold, and Pip gently put a blanket on her to keep her warm. “Do you want anything, Mom?” She brought her a glass of water, and Ophélie took a sip, just to please the child. She felt terrible that she had frightened her so badly. She had nearly lost her mind, and had for a while.

“I'm okay. Why don't you sleep here tonight?” Ophélie took her clothes off and put her nightgown on, and Pip came back in her pajamas with the dog. They lay holding each other for a long time, and then Matt called. Pip assured him that everything was all right, and she sounded better, so he had to assume they were. It sounded as though it had been a rotten night for both of them. And before he hung up, he assured Pip that one way or another, he would see her the next day. And for the first time that night, Matt told Pip he loved her. He knew she needed to hear it, and he needed to say it to her.

Pip snuggled up to her mother then, and neither of them slept for a long time. Pip kept glancing up to check on her mother, and when they finally fell asleep, they slept with the lights on that night, to keep the demons away.

Matt's Thanksgiving had been at the opposite end of the spectrum from theirs. He had been prepared to ignore it, as he always did, or had for the past six years. He worked on Pip's portrait, and was pleased with the results. And then made himself a tuna fish sandwich. He liked doing everything he could to prove to himself it wasn't Thanksgiving Day. Even a turkey sandwich by coincidence would have been an affront. And he was washing the plate he'd eaten the sandwich on when he heard a knock at the door. He couldn't imagine who it was. He was expecting no one, and his neighbors never bothered him. It had to be a mistake. He thought of ignoring it, but the knock was persistent. So he finally strode to the door and pulled it open, and stared at the unfamiliar face. There was a tall young man standing there with brown eyes and dark hair, and he had a beard. The odd thing was that the face wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him. He realized with consternation that he had seen that face, in the mirror, years before. The experience was entirely surreal. It was like looking at himself. He had even had a beard at the same age. It was like looking at the ghost of Christmas past. And then the man spoke, and Matt felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Dad?” It was Robert. The boy who had been twelve the last time he saw him. His only son. Risen from the ashes of his life. Matt said not a word, but pulled him close to him and held him so tight he could hardly breathe. He had no idea how he had found him, or why he was there. Matt was just grateful he was.

“Oh my God,” Matt said, loosening his grip on him, unable to believe it had finally happened. He had always believed they would see each other again one day. He didn't know how or when, but he had always sensed that they would. “What are you doing here?”

“I go to Stanford. I've been looking for you for months. I lost your address, and Mom said she didn't have it.”

“She said what?” They were still standing in the doorway, and Matt waved him in with a puzzled expression. “Sit down.” He waved him at the weathered leather couch, and Robert sat down and smiled. He was as pleased as his father. He had promised himself he would find him, and he had.

“She said she lost track of you when you stopped writing,” Robert said quietly.

“She sends me a Christmas card every year. She knows where I am.” Robert looked at him strangely, and Matt suddenly felt sick.

“She said she hadn't heard from you in years.”

“I wrote to both of you for four years after you stopped writing, you and Vanessa,” Matt said, looking stricken.

“We didn't stop writing, you did.” Robert looked shocked.

“No, I didn't. Your mother said you didn't want me in your lives anymore, you only wanted Hamish. I'd been writing to you for three years by then, with no response. Eventually, she asked me if I'd let him adopt you, and I wouldn't. You're my children, and you always will be. But after three years of silence from you, I finally gave up. It's been another three years since then. But your mother and I always stayed in touch. She said you were both happier without me in your life, you and Vanessa, and wanted it that way. So I let you be.”

It took the entire afternoon to piece all of it together, but it was obvious what had happened, once each told the other their part of the story. It was obvious that Sally had withheld his letters, and told them he'd stopped writing. She had told Matt that his children no longer wanted contact with him. She had seen to it that Hamish replaced him, and possibly even lied to her new husband about it. She had cleverly and maliciously cut Matt out of their lives, she thought, forever, and cheated him of his children, and them of their father, for six years. It had been cleverly done, almost brilliantly, and had succeeded for the past six years. Robert said he had been looking for him since September, and finally found him three days before. It had been his Thanksgiving gift to himself to drive over and surprise him. His only fear was that Matt would refuse to see him. He had never understood why his father had abandoned them, and was afraid that he wouldn't want to see him now. He had never expected the reception he got or the story he had just heard. They both cried when they realized what had happened, and they embraced each other again and again as they sat beside each other on the couch. It was dark outside by the time all the mysteries were solved. And Robert showed him a picture of Vanessa, who was a beautiful, blond sixteen-year-old girl. They called her a few minutes later, Robert knew where she was, and for her it was three in the afternoon.

“I have a surprise for you,” Robert said mysteriously, overwhelmed by what he was about to do, and there were tears in Matt's eyes, as they held hands. “I've got a lot to tell you, and we'll talk about it later. I'll explain everything. But there's someone here who wants to say hello to you.”

“Hi, Nessie,” Matt said gently, and for an instant, there was silence on the other end of the phone, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Dad?” She still sounded like a little girl to him. She sounded just as she always had, only a little more grown up. And in a minute she was crying too. “Where are you? I don't understand. How did Robert find you?…I was always so scared you had died and no one knew. Mom never knew anything. She said you just disappeared off the face of the earth.” But not as far as she would have liked. What a vicious thing to do. And all the while, she'd been cashing his support checks and sending Christmas cards.

“We'll talk about it sometime. I didn't go anywhere. I thought you did. Robert will explain later, and so will I. I just wanted to tell you I love you… I've wanted to tell you that for the last six years. It looks like Mom played a little game with all of us. I wrote to you guys for three years and never got any answers.” He at least wanted her to know that.