Safe Harbour (32 page)

“Why not? You know how much I care about you and Pip.” Or maybe she didn't. He had only just begun to realize it himself, and he knew it now as he looked at her. He had never cared about anyone as much in his life, except his kids. Which reminded him of what he hadn't told her yet. “Something happened to me yesterday,” he said softly, still holding her hand. “Although I unearthed a terrible betrayal too. I had a visitor yesterday, for Thanksgiving. It's the first real Thanksgiving I've had in years.”

“Who was it?” She tried to emerge from her misery to listen to him.

“My son.” He told her what had happened then as her eyes grew wide.

“I can't believe she did that to you, and her own kids. Didn't she think they'd ever find out?” She looked horrified. They had both been betrayed horrifyingly by people they had trusted and loved. It was the worst kind of betrayal of all. And she wasn't sure which was worse. It was a close match.

“Apparently not. She must have thought they'd forget me, or assume I was dead. They nearly did forget me. Robert and Vanessa both said they thought I was dead. He tried to find me, to be sure. And was amazed to find me very much alive. He's a great kid. I want you and Pip to meet him soon. Maybe we could spend Christmas together,” he said hopefully. He was already making plans.

“No more Bah Humbug?” she said with a smile, and he laughed.

“Not this year. And I'm going to fly over to see Vanessa in Auckland very soon.”

“How wonderful for you, Matt,” she said, squeezing his hand, and with that, Pip walked in, and smiled when she saw them holding hands. She took it to mean something other than it did, but was pleased.

“Can I come back yet?” she asked, as Mousse bounded in and got sand all over Matt's living room, but he insisted he didn't mind.

“I was just going to suggest to your mom that we go for a walk on the beach. Do you want to come?”

“Do I have to?” she asked, installing herself on the couch, looking tired. “I'm cold.”

“That's fine. We won't be long.” He looked at Ophélie then, and she nodded. She wanted to go for a walk too.

They put on their coats and went outside, and he put an arm around her and pulled her close. She suddenly seemed even smaller and so frail. They walked down the beach, and she leaned against him, as though for support. He was the only friend she had left, the only person she still trusted, and knew she could. She no longer knew what to believe about her marriage or her late husband. She no longer knew what to think or believe about anyone, but him. And she was so distressed over all that had happened, and what it meant, that they walked all the way down the beach together, with his arm tightly around her, and said not a word. It was enough just being with him.

22

M
ATT WENT TO SEE HIS SON THE
M
ONDAY AFTER
Thanksgiving, and stopped in to see Pip and Ophélie on the way home. Pip had just come home from school, and Ophélie had taken the day off from work. She was too upset to think. And she felt as though her whole life had changed. She had made a decision that morning to get rid of Ted's clothes. It was her way of throwing him out of the house, and punishing him posthumously for what he'd done. It was the only revenge she had left, but she also knew it would be good for her. She had to move on. She couldn't hang on forever to a man who had betrayed her and fathered another woman's child. She knew now that she was hanging on to her illusions and a lifetime of dreams. It was time to wake up, no matter how alone it made her feel.

She told Matt when Pip went to her room to do her homework, and he was afraid to say too much. He didn't want to tell her that he thought her late husband was a sonofabitch. It didn't seem fair. She had to come to those conclusions herself. And it was hard to let go now in death, after she had been willing to forgive him so much in life. She had been willing to tolerate almost anything from him. But Matt was pleased to see her making different decisions now, and silently approved.

And while he was there, he made a date with her for her birthday the following week. And as always, he included Pip. He always did. And always had, right from the first. After all, he and Pip had been friends first, as she often pointed out, which made him smile. It was true.

But he had picked a slightly more grown-up restaurant than usual for her birthday night. He wanted to take her somewhere special. She deserved a reward for all the misery Ted and Andrea had just put her through. And she told him that she'd had a letter from Andrea, which had been delivered by messenger that afternoon. It was a letter of abject apology, in which Andrea told her that she didn't expect to be forgiven, but wanted her to know how much she had loved her, and how sorry she was. For Ophélie, it was too late, and she said as much to Matt.

“I suppose that makes me an awful person. But I just can't. I never want to see or hear from her again.”

“That sounds reasonable to me.” He told Ophélie he was planning to call Sally that night, if she would talk to him.

“It sounds like we're both settling our accounts,” she said sadly.

“Maybe it's time.” He had been thinking all day about what he was going to say to his ex-wife. What did you say to someone who had stolen your children and six years of your life, not to mention the marriage and life she had destroyed before that? There was no restitution possible for that. Ophélie knew it too.

They talked for so long that Ophélie invited him to stay for dinner with her and Pip. He accepted, and helped her cook. And as soon as dinner was over, he left. But they had a date for her birthday the following week. Pip could hardly wait.

And he called Ophélie late that night, after he had called Sally. He sounded drained.

“What did she say?”

“She tried to lie about it,” he said, sounding amazed. “But she couldn't. I know too much now. So she just cried. For about an hour. She told me she was doing it for the children, that she thought it would be better for them to feel part of one family with Hamish, and to hell with me, I guess. I became dispensable. She decided to play God. There wasn't much she could say to clean it up, nothing in fact. I'm going to fly over and see Vanessa after your birthday next week. I'll only be there for a few days. And she said she'd send her over for Christmas if I like. I said I would. I'll have both of my kids with me.” He sounded deeply moved, and she was pleased for him. “I'm thinking of renting a house in Tahoe, to take them skiing. Maybe you and Pip would like to come. Can she ski?”

“She loves it.”

“What about you?” He sounded hopeful.

“I ski, but I'm not great. I hate the chair lifts. I'm afraid of heights.”

“We can ride them together. I'm not a fabulous skier either. I just thought it would be fun. I hope you and Pip will come.” He sounded sincere, but Ophélie was concerned.

“Won't your kids object to having strangers with them after not seeing you for so long? I don't want to intrude.” She was always cautious about his feelings, as he was with hers, unlike the people they'd been married to, who had been selfish and self-serving in the extreme.

“I'll ask them, but I can't imagine they'd mind, especially after they meet you and Pip. I told Robert about both of you the other day.” And he almost slipped and said he'd seen Pip's portrait, which was Pip's big birthday surprise for her.

And then Matt inquired if she was going out with the outreach team, as usual, the following night, and she said she was.

“You've had a tough few days. Why don't you give yourself some time off?” Like forever, he wished. He still hated her doing it, but she refused to listen to him.

“They'll be shorthanded if I don't go. And it will take my mind off of things.” They both knew that she now had a far deeper wound to heal, the loss not only of her son and husband, but now of her marriage and best friend as well. It compounded everything, and made it all seem much worse. But she seemed to be holding up, and Matt was relieved. The only thing he didn't like was that she was going out with the outreach team, particularly when she was distracted and tired, and more likely to get hurt.

But all went well. She had an uneventful night, as she told Matt when he called to check on her on Wednesday, and it was another quiet night when she went out with them on Thursday. They had come across several camps of kids and young people, some of them still decently dressed from when they left home, which tugged at her heart. And a camp of clean-cut-looking men, all of whom said they were employed but wound up homeless anyway. There were a lot of heart-wrenching stories on the streets. And Saturday was her birthday, which turned out even better than planned. It was everything Pip had dreamed. They celebrated at the house before they went out to dinner, and Pip was so excited she couldn't sit still. She and Matt went out to his car to get the portrait. Pip made Ophélie close her eyes, and then with a kiss and a flourish, she handed it to her. And Ophélie gasped. And then cried.

“Oh my God… it's so beautiful …Pip!… Matt…” She kept holding it and staring at it. It was a beautiful portrait, and he had captured not only her elfin face, but also her spirit. Each time Ophélie looked at it, she cried. And she hated to leave it when they went out to dinner. She could hardly wait to hang it up. Her reaction was everything Matt had hoped, and she didn't stop thanking him for it all night.

They had a lovely time at dinner, and he had arranged a birthday cake for her at the restaurant. It was a perfect birthday, and Pip was yawning when they got home. It had been a big night for her too. She had waited months for the presentation of the portrait, and her excitement and anticipation had worn her out. Ophélie was still holding it when Pip kissed her mother and Matt and went up to bed, and he was thrilled to see how happy Ophélie was with the gift.

“I don't know how I can ever thank you. It's the most beautiful present I've ever had.” It was truly a gift of love, not only from Pip, but from Matt.

“You're an amazing woman,” he said gently, as he sat next to her on the couch. And an honorable one, he knew, which had come to mean a great deal to him, particularly in light of what Sally had done to him, and what he now knew had been done to Ophélie. She was very rare, and so was he. But the people they had loved had also been unusually cruel.

“You're always so good to me and Pip,” she said gratefully, as he looked down at her and took her hand. He wanted her to trust him, and he thought she did, but he didn't know how much. And what he wanted to say to her was going to require a great deal of trust.

“You deserve to have people be good to you, Ophélie. And so does Pip.” He felt as though they were part of his family, and he was the only family she and Pip still had. It seemed as though all else had been lost.

And as he looked at her, he leaned toward her gently, and kissed her on the mouth. She was the first woman he had kissed in years, and she hadn't been touched by a man since her husband died. They were two fragile, cautious beings, like stars, floating gently through the skies. Ophélie was startled, she hadn't expected him to kiss her, but much to his relief, she didn't resist or pull back. She just seemed to hang there in the moment with him, and when he stopped, they were both out of breath. He had been afraid she would be angry at him, and he was immensely relieved that she was not, but she looked scared, as he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

“What are we doing, Matt? Is this crazy?” More than anything, she needed to feel safe. And she no longer did, anywhere in her life, except with him. And he felt safe with her too.

“I don't think it is,” he reassured her. “I've felt this way about you for a long time. Longer than I knew. I was just afraid to frighten you away if I said anything. You've been so badly hurt.”

“So have you,” she whispered, touching his face with a gentle hand, and thinking how pleased Pip would be. The thought of it made her smile, and she said as much to him.

“I'm in love with her too. I can't wait for you both to meet my kids.”

“Neither can I,” she said, sounding happy, and he kissed her again.

“Happy birthday, my darling,” he said, as he kissed her, and when he left that night, she thought that, without a doubt, it had been the best birthday of her life.

23

T
HE
T
UESDAY AFTER HER BIRTHDAY
, O
PHÉLIE WAS OUT
with the outreach team, and Bob reminded her that she was being careless while they were checking what they called “cribs,” the boxes and structures people were sleeping in. They walked up to them, checked if people were inside and awake, and asked what they needed, but they needed to be vigilant while they did it, to avoid surprises. She had been dreamy eyed, and more than once turned her back on groups of young men who approached them. People on the streets were always curious about who they were, where they came from, and what they were doing. But being alert and cautious was vital to the team. The rules of the jungle applied at all times, no matter how friendly people appeared. For the most part, the homeless they encountered were gentle and kind, and grateful for whatever they got. But threaded among them were the inevitable dissidents, the troublemakers, and the predators who preyed on them, and wantonly took the little they had. It was painful to realize that for everything the outreach team distributed, a third or even half of it would be stolen by someone else. It was a world in which the honor code was survival, and little else. Ophélie knew that, as the others did. And all you could do, in helping them, was give it your best shot, and hope it made a difference.

“Hey, Opie! Watch your back, girlfriend. What's up?” Bob asked her with a look of concern as they headed back to the van after their second stop. He wanted to make her aware of it, so no one got hurt. The safety of the entire team rested on each one of them. And although they were casual at times, and joked with each other, and even those they helped, they still had to keep their wits about them and remain aware of the players. They had to anticipate the worst in order to prevent it happening to them. There were the inevitable stories of cops and volunteers and social workers who'd been killed on the streets, usually doing something they shouldn't have done, like going out to work on the streets alone. They knew better, but there was always the temptation to believe that they were exempt and couldn't be touched. Safety, for all of them, lay in being, and staying, alert.