Dear Meredith (10 page)

            I am at a complete loss for words. He seems to be wrestling with some inner pain, his eyes fierce and questioning. "Why? Because I know what it feels like to be so afraid of something that you're paralysed by it," I say at last.

            He keeps quiet, and I suddenly have no trouble reading his eyes.
He's desperately afraid
, I realise. And he knows it. "What's
wrong
? What happened, Grant?" I find myself asking without thinking, seized by a desperate desire to find out what makes this maddening man tick.

            Time seems to slow down as I look up at him from my chair behind the counter, exactly like that time in the swimming pool when he had held me against his chest, his hand encircling my wrist.

            Just as I am sure he's about to tell me, his eyes get that shuttered, remote look again and my heart sinks even though I know he doesn't owe me an explanation.

            "I'm sorry, that was a really rude thing to say. Thank you for the book, Meredith, I'll read it to Ginny tonight," he says, so politely I could scream. Before I can respond, he walks over to Ginny and scoops her up in his arms, saying, "Say goodbye to Meredith, Ginny. We've got to get you to your piano lesson."

            "Bye, Meredith," she calls out gaily, hugging the book to her chest. He gives me a last look. "I'll see you at the pool tomorrow, Meredith." In spite of the completely bewildering past five minutes, my name on his lips sounds like a caress.

Chapter 11

            I float on my back, arms flung out to the sides as I feel the water lapping at the sides of my face.

            This lasts for maybe ten seconds before I start wondering if I've strayed too far from the shallow end. This sends a quick bolt of anxiety through me and I lift my neck up, trying to crane my head to the left. Instantly, I know I've lost my balance as my butt lowers further into the water, and I begin to become more vertical instead of horizontal.

            Thankfully, I feel my feet landing on the solid, reassuring tile of the pool floor even as frustration surges through me. Damn it. It happened again. I can now swim the length of the shallow end unaided, but backstroke, which Milo says is extremely relaxing and easy, is turning out to be quite a challenge.

            I think that says quite a lot about my trust issues in general.

            Grant is doing a lot better than me, now that he has gotten over his initial aversion to the water. To Milo's delight, he can now swim for several breaths underwater before surfacing for air.

            Milo thinks that's fantastic but I secretly think it's horrible, because that's probably how Brendan snuck so close to grab my leg way back then.

            Suddenly, almost as though he read my mind, Grant's head breaks throught the water right next to me. I let out a strangled yelp and react instinctively, which is to throw a punch at his grinning face.

            His head snaps to the side as I gasp in utter horror at what I just did. I also hear Milo's horrified shriek as he powers over to us.

            "
Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
I don't even dare to swim closer to Grant and just sort of flail my arms to keep me remaining where I am.

            Grant is spluttering and shaking his head, droplets of water flying everywhere as he finally finds his feet and stands up.

            "Are you okay? Grant?" Milo asks, over my repeated cries of "I'm sorry!"

            I observe with horror that his hands are covering his face and his shoulders are shaking a little, although it's hard to tell for sure because the pool water is dripping down from his hair and shoulders. "
Grant?"
Milo asks again, more urgently this time.

            He finally lifts his head up and we suddenly realise he is
laughing.
What the hell? My guilt dissipates somewhat and I venture closer, confused. Milo gives me a look which clearly says, 'Do you think his brains have been scrambled?'

            "Grant? I'm sorry," I say tentatively, as he waves a hand at us. I take that to mean he needs some time to collect himself, and I shrug at Milo. And they say women are confusing.

            Finally, he looks at me with those green eyes and says, "
Brilliant
reflexes, Meredith. Don't feel bad, it was my fault for spooking you like that. I must say, you throw one hell of a punch."

            I wince as he rubs his left cheekbone assessingly. I'm fervently glad Ginny isn't here today to witness me hit her daddy. ("At her grandma's," he explained earlier).

            "Well, if you're all right, we've come to the end of today's lesson," Milo says with a dubious look at Grant. "Grant, good work today. But I think you've learned the dangers of sneaking up on people. Meredith, work on that backstroke. You already know what to do, you just
have
to let your brain relax and trust your body, okay?"

            I nod dutifully. As I boost myself out of the pool, I feel a surge of pride that I've come so far in a matter of weeks. The water isn't exactly my favourite place to be, and I don't think it ever will, but at least it doesn't feel like it's going to suck me in and kill me anymore.

            "Meredith." I feel a prickle of awareness at the back of my neck. After yesterday's strange episode at the bookstore, I am relieved to discover that we can still chat normally.

             "I'm sorry about scaring you like that - I was an idiot. Can I make it up to you?" he asks, almost diffidently, his dark lashes spiky from the water.

            "Tell you what, let's go grab a drink. You can buy me one, and I'll buy you two to thank you for saving my life. I know a great place just down the road," I offer, and my heart gives a traitorous leap as a slow smile spreads over his face.

            "Deal."

            We have the entire place to ourselves. It's so early that even the alcoholics haven't slouched in yet and the janitor is finishing his mopping up by the pool table.

            We choose a high table towards the back of the pub and are served with two pints of ice-cold beer in short order. I don't quite know what to make of the silence between us. It's sort of comfortable, yet crackling with all the things we have yet to say and the unspoken attraction between us.

            "Are you all right?" I ask again anxiously. I think there's a bruise developing on his cheekbone.

            He laughs ruefully. "Yes, I'm fine but I'm never going to cross you again, that's for sure. But why
did
you react that way?"

            I sigh, gulp down some beer. "Well, remember me telling you guys that I almost drowned when I was younger? What I didn't tell you - because I didn't want to give Ginny nightmares - was that I had a real idiot of a classmate. His name was Brendan, and he was just this horrible bully.

            "We were swimming in the public pool, me and my best friend Laney, larking about the way kids do. All of a sudden, I feel something clamp onto my right ankle and I start sinking like a stone, and there was nothing I could do to wriggle free." I close my eyes, reliving the moment. "I don't really remember what happened next after I started drinking a lot of water. They tell me my brother Jamie pulled me to safety, and I was given CPR. I do remember the horrible pain my throat was in for the next few days, and how I couldn't seem to get the taste of chlorine out of my mouth."

            Grant's eyes have darkened, his mouth thinning in anger. "That little bastard."

            I let out a sudden giggle. "Yes, but Laney told me that his parents gave him a real hiding. There were red stripes all over his legs, so we started calling him Candy Cane Brendan."

            "Christ, I'm sorry Meredith," he says in tones of self-condemnation. "When I came out of the water like that, no wonder you freaked out. You should've hit me harder."

            I shake my head, reach out and give his hand a squeeze. "It
isn't
your fault. I know this is a fear I've got to overcome and to be honest, I can't believe I've made it this far."

            "But
how
?" he asks. I sense a desperate unhappiness in him, his true feelings unmasked for a moment as his green eyes bore into mine.

            I think for a long moment how I should answer him. I somehow know instinctively that he hasn't opened up to anyone before and that I must handle this well or risk him pulling up those shutters forever.

            "A very wise woman helped me understand that it wasn't my fear that was the problem. It was the fact that I was letting myself get crippled by it. She said I had locked myself up in prison, but I had forgotten the fact that it was a prison of my own making," I tell him gently.

            "It was then that I realised that I was limiting myself unnecessarily, because I believed I would never be able to swim again. And when that hit me, all of a sudden, all I wanted to do was prove to myself that I
could
live a full life again."

            "But what if my fear is a fear of letting
people
in again?" he says in such a low voice that I have to strain to hear him.        

            I decide to throw caution to the wind. "Do you mean Ginny's mom?"

            He nods, heaving such a deep sigh that I'm surprised the surface of his beer doesn't ripple.

            "Yes, I'm talking about Charlotte, my ex-wife, whom I found in bed with my best friend three days after our fourth anniversary." He meets my gaze and I'm stunned at the raw pain I see there. Suddenly I realise that Grant is grieving, much in the same way I have been doing since June.

            Except he has had no closure, the way I had with Mike.  His grief has been left to fester, turning into bitterness. Not all deaths are physical, I see that now. Grant continues, his words coming in a torrent now that he has finally opened up to me.

            "I was supposed to be on a camping trip with the boys, but Pete had called off sick with a really bad flu. So, for the first time since college, it would be just me, Harry and Nate. I headed off to Nate's to pick him up after kissing Charlotte goodbye. Ginny, I had dropped off at kindergarten, because they had to practice for the mid-term performance."

            He smiles a little. "She was supposed to play the part of a flower. When I'm almost at Nate's, I suddenly remember I'd left my mobile phone at home, something Charlotte would kill me for since I was about to disappear into the jungle for two nights. So I quickly swing back around."

            Grant's eyes are bleak now with the memory, his fingers convulsively gripping his beer mug. "I hear the sounds almost as soon as I get into the house. It's strange, how your mind just refuses to believe what your ears tell you to be true. I remember seeing her golden hair first, spread over the pillow. I suppose I must have made some sound, because the man in her arms suddenly turns around.

            "It is Pete.
Pete
, my best friend since grade school, someone whom I had been willing to take bullets for." He clenches his fists. "How could they betray me like that? Tell me, how can I ever trust anyone after that?"

            My heart is thumping hard as I stare at him wordlessly, horrified. I had thought Mike's death was the worst thing that could ever happen, but the thought of him cheating on me sends a vicious stab through my heart. And Grant has had to deal with this knowledge everyday for the past two years.

            No wonder he's being eaten up inside.

 "I haven't seen her since the divorce. But I cannot
forget
, and I dream about that moment when I see the both of them together almost every other night."

            He falls silent now, but his eyes seem less wild after telling me his story, and I can see a measure of relief in them as he runs a hand roughly over his intelligent, mobile face.

            "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, " I say sincerely, reaching out for him again, and his grip closes around me like a drowning man. "I haven't been in your shoes, but I've walked that same path since my husband died in June. I
do
know how it feels, the insomnia, the pain and disbelief. The dreams."

            "Your husband died? I'm sorry, Meredith," he says, startled.

            "Yes, of prostate cancer. It was Mike who signed me up for the swimming lessons and I only found out after he died, in a letter he wrote to me. That's why I went, you see. Because it was the only way anyone could have ever made me attempt to try and swim again."

            "I did wonder about that, that look on your face during those first few lessons... but then something changed. You started looking at the water like it was an opponent you had to beat. Even Milo noticed it," he recalls.

            "Yes," I say simply. "I decided I wanted to be free."

            Grant looks at me for a long while, and I meet his steady gaze. In it, I read pain, confusion, turmoil... and longing.

            "Teach me how," he says roughly.

            I sit in bed for a long time, my hands wrapped around my legs as I think about the evening.         

It hits me over and over again how much like a kindred spirit Grant is, how we are so much alike that it scares me.