by Cindy Bokma
“For old women,” he scoffed. “That’s a silly thing for a young woman to be doing . . . you should be out shopping . . . going to the gym . . .”
Will was in his room and I was downstairs. It was strange to sit down and not worry about a knock on the door, the police coming to arrest me for taking Will. It was liberating. I felt protected and safe, feelings I had not experienced since living with my parents in Ohio, which was so long ago. When a sliver of doubt crawled into my brain, I thought of a stop sign and closed my eyes, willing the fears and nerves to leave.
Without worrying about my emails being traced, I sent a message to Camille and one to David, explaining my absence for the past several months. To Camille, I admitted the abuse and described the fear for our safety. To David, I gave an abbreviated version; I worried that he would somehow feel like it was his fault. At the wedding I told him about Aunt Priscilla, and he was sad and upset that he hadn’t been there for me after our parents died. He dealt with the loss in his own way.
Claire provided an odd kind of comfort, she was looking after Leo. He didn’t need me. He had seen Will here. The thought of him in town still scared me, stealthily watching our son, knowing my exact moves. But now he was sunken into a shadow of his former self and he could not hurt me again.
I put the needles and yarn in my knitting basket and went to grab something warm from the hall closet. I wrapped an old wool sweater around my shoulders and went outside to do a little weeding in the garden. Simple things like comfort and freedom, these brought me great joy.
I walked into the office with my arms full of proofs that I had taken home to edit. Clem nodded hello and smiled. She sat at her desk, working on the database for the New England listings that needed updating. So far we had twenty new listings and were trying to persuade a couple of the places to put advertisements in the back of the guide.
An artist worked on portraits of some of the newer Bed & Breakfasts and we talked about turning the pictures into a calendar to sell at local gift shops. Watching the books come together was exciting. Soon the first edition for the New Year would be out, and then we would be working on the next project; a recipe book created from the most requested meals at the inns. My job was fun and I liked coming into work every morning. What a difference a year makes. Last year this time, I could have never conceived that this would be my life.
Clem took a pencil from behind her ear and smiled warmly. “How is that sick relative you went to visit? Are you ever going to talk about it? You are such a secretive person, Grace. Really. Like a closed book.” Her voice was light, almost teasing.
“Oh, right. I know I’m not an over sharer.” I dropped the proofs on my desk and carefully placed my purse in the bottom drawer. I waited a while before answering her. “It was my husband, actually,” I said slowly and deliberately. “It’s the last time I’ll ever see him. He’s dying. I don’t particularly want to talk about it.”
Clem looked up at me and tilted her head. “You can always talk to me, you know. If you want, I do give good advice. That’s the one thing about getting older is gathering wisdom.”
I pressed my lips together and paused. “Terminal cancer. He has a few days left.”
She frowned and looked me over with sad eyes. “I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t know it was so serious.” She pushed out her chair then walked over to me, enveloping me in a big hug, her costume jewelry pendant clanking against my head. She smelled like lilac perfume and her polyester shirt was silky against my hair.
“Is there anything I can do?” Clem asked, her big eyes searching my face.
“I’m fine, but thanks.” I gave her a small, tight smile.
She shook her head. “I don’t know everything, but it seems like you’ve been through an awful lot, dear. Losing your parents, now your husband, being a single mother . . .”
“I need to keep busy. That's what helps me. How about those new ads for the book? Anything else I need to work on?”
I artfully changed the tone of the conversation. I didn’t want to get into my life story with Leo. I never wanted to talk about him again.
Vincent’s curly black hair ruffled slightly in the breeze. We were out for a morning in his boat; rusty and old like he warned. The plan was to take Will fishing, but at the last minute, a classmate invited him to the clam flats, leaving Vincent and I alone. Our last “date” was the three of us, going for a walking tour of Cape Ann on a Sunday afternoon. I was hesitant to let Will go anywhere without me, or where I couldn’t see him. I started allowing him to have play dates at friend’s houses which was a big step for me.
I bought him a cell phone and instructed him to use it to call me anytime. I knew I wouldn’t be there to watch over him every second of every day. It was normal for children to have play dates and go places with their friends. Though my stomach was a ball of worry, I let him go knowing he would be in good hands. I got to know his friend’s parents and little by little I grew more comfortable.
Vincent arrived early Saturday before the sun had fully risen in the morning sky.
“Sorry,” I apologized as I ushered him inside and into the kitchen, “it’s only me today. Will got a last minute invite from a friend.”
“Ummm, did you just say Will?” Vincent’s eyebrows narrowed and his head cocked to the side.
I froze. How could I be so careless? “Oh, yeah. Will. It’s his middle name . . .” My mind spun and whirled. Caught in a lie. I panicked. “I don’t know why I called him that.” I ducked as Vincent took a step toward me, instinctively covering my face with my hands.
“It’s okay,” he said softly.
I dropped my hands, blood rushed to my face and pounded in my ears.
Refusing to look at Vincent for fear I’d see concern, or worse, pity, I busied myself, wrapping sandwiches for the cooler and placing apples and chips in the container.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He took a step toward me.
“I know.” I still had my back to him and kept packing and repacking the food, my hands shook and my brain worked overtime, worrying and wondering what he must think of me. First I messed up on my own son’s name, and then I flinched when he approached me. It was obvious I was hiding something, wasn’t it?
I turned halfway around and stared down at the floor as he gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I was concerned when you left. I thought we had a connection and then the next thing I know, you’re gone.”
“I had to go,” I whispered.
“I’ve had my heart broken before and don’t want it to happen again. I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”
Completely turning, I now faced him. He dropped his hand from my shoulder and I immediately noticed the absence of warmth in that spot.
His black eyes bore into me and I hesitated, trying to find the words that would assure him I was here to stay, I had no intention of breaking anyone’s heart. I swallowed, licked my lips, and tried to speak slowly. I mulled over the words I wanted to use before I opened my mouth. I didn’t want to blurt out my life story. No matter how comfortable I was with Vincent and how attracted I was, I couldn’t talk about all the things that brought me here. I needed to give him the abbreviated version. How could I be honest and open yet keep certain things from him? Would I ever be able to trust anyone with my past?
“Vincent, my husband was a terribly controlling person. It was bad... I had to leave.”
I kept it vague but truthful.
He stared at me. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Are you, I mean, will you try to make things work?”
“I’m never going back,” I said.
“Are you sure? Because I’d underst—”
“I am not going anywhere, all right? I love it here. Ethan is happy and that’s all I care about.”
He studied my face, his expression serious. “I want you to be able to talk to me about anything but I also need to know if this connection we have is real? Or are you going to leave me?” He placed a hand
to his chest. “This is hard for me to talk about.”
If he only knew the truth and how I would never leave my happiness here to be with Leo. I almost smiled. My instinct was to be irritated with Vincent’s questions but I remembered how his wife broke his heart, he was protecting himself. He was vulnerable in this moment.
I took a hard swallow and shook my head. “He has an inoperable brain tumor. He’s dying, any day now.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“There are things I want to tell you, but it’s a long story and I need time. So for now, can we hang out and enjoy each other’s company?”
He pulled me to him and hugged me hard. Burying my face in his soft shirt, I took in the smell of fabric softener and soap. When we broke from our embrace, I turned back to packing our lunch, my heart beating a little harder and my face flushed.
I placed the lid on the cooler and went to the hall closet to grab my scarf and jacket. When he saw the knitted scarf I wound around my neck, he grinned.
“I had one like that once. Handmade by my grandmother. She loved to knit. I never saw her without her knitting basket. I wore it all the time until I lost it, out fishing.” His face lit up at the memory.
I thought of Leo’s words. Knitting is for old women. How embarrassing. Don’t tell anyone that’s your hobby.
“I made this.” I grinned tentatively. “I love to . . . I mean . . . well, knitting is one of my hobbies. I took it up years ago.” I lifted my shoulders and bashfully looked down at the wooden floor. “I enjoy it.”
“Maybe someday you can make me something.” His smile was genuine.
Not many people were out in their boats when we reached the harbor. The water gently licked the rocks along the wharf; I faintly saw the lighthouse from where we sat in the boat. The sky was slightly illuminated as the sun began to rise. The air was foggy and dreamlike. When he offered me coffee out of his thermos, I eagerly took it in my hands and sipped the hot drink.
We sat in silence, watching the sun.
“Ready?” he asked, handing me a fishing pole.
I shook my head. “Can I let you do the work and I can sit and lounge?”
“Are you kidding me? Don’t you want to try?”
“All right, all right, show me what to do.”
He had to walk me through the steps and finally I was able to cast the line and watch it fall gracefully into the water where it would remain without a nibble.
“I’ve caught haddock and cod here before,” Vincent said.
“Whales?”
“I haven’t caught many, but I’ve seen them.”
I laughed.
“We can take a whale watching trip someday. I bet Ethan would like that.”
I nodded. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Vincent. He made me giddy and nervous, like a teenager with a crush, but safe and secure at the same time. If he was anymore laid back he would be laying down. I couldn’t imagine the woman who left him, she must have been crazy. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of father Vincent would make. Around Will, he was comfortable and caring as if he was his own son.
I dreamed of having more children but never wanted another one with Leo. I wanted a little girl. I wanted to get married and live in my home with the thicket of flowers and plants in the backyard. I wanted to learn how to can peaches, make jam, knit baby blankets and sweaters, and sit by the fireplace with my husband every night. I longed to give Will a safe and happy home like what my parents gave me.
It was hard to believe that at one point I wanted to be a famous actress, adored by millions. That desire was a million miles away.
I turned my attention back to Vincent.
“Sometimes I go bird watching. Dorky, but true. Have you ever been?” he asked.
“Can’t say I have.”
“Yeah, blue herons, egrets, ibises. I’ve seen them all around here. I started bird watching when I was growing up. I love it. Peaceful.”
“Do you know anything about Hollywood? Movies? Celebrities?” I asked suddenly.
He shook his head and gave me a questioning look. “No, why?”
“Are you interested in anything like that?”
“Not at all. Should I be?”
“Ever read magazines, like People? US Weekly? Page through the tabloids when you’re in line at the grocery store? Visit the gossip blogs?”
“Do you want me to read that kind of thing? Is that what you like?”
“I’m trying to see where your interests lie.”
“Not celebrity gossip or Hollywood stuff. I read historical novels. I like to fish and I like to be outside. I like building and working with wood. Sometimes I do crossword puzzles, I’ve been known to do a jigsaw puzzle or two. Boring, right?” He shrugged.
“You do?”
“Do what?”
“Like crossword puzzles? Because I do. I do them all the time.” I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.
Vincent Donovan, where have you been all my life? I wanted to yell. I wanted to reach over and kiss him in the rickety, rusty old fishing boat.
Suddenly, I started laughing and couldn’t stop. I was laughing so hard that for five whole minutes Vincent watched me, not sure whether to call the hospital or bring me home. He shook his head slowly, a smile inching across his face, his dark currant eyes crinkling up at the corners and his curly black hair ruffling in the breeze that came off the water.
“Oh,” I gasped. “Oh Vincent, I’m sorry. I’m just so, so happy right now.”
He stood up in the boat, straddling the sides with his denim clad legs, and bent over, rocking the boat, and gently kissed my lips, prompting the fishing pole to fall out of my hands and into the water.
“I heard you were out with Vincent all day on Saturday,” Clem said first thing Monday morning. I hadn’t even taken off my coat and mittens and she was grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t see you Sunday at church, but Anne said you looked happy and you were with Vincent.”
I rolled my eyes playfully.
She waited for my reply, her violet eyes focused on me, wanting a juicy bone of gossip thrown her way.
“He is wonderful.” I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down, flicking my computer to life. “I don’t kiss and tell though, Clem.”
“All right. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I can spot a couple in love fifty miles away. And what does your son think of Vincent?”
“He likes him. I’m sure you know we all went out to dinner on Sunday.”
She nodded. “Judy Sussman saw the three of you getting ice cream.”
I put my head in my hands and groaned. I had to be careful or else the entire town would know my deepest, darkest secrets. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I'd never be ready.
My thoughts floated to Leo now and then. Sick in bed, hollowed out, and skeletal getting sicker by the day. Claire called twice giving me updates on his condition which was grim.
“The end has been near for months now,” she said sadly. “I wish he’d just go. I can’t stand to see him in pain.”
She was calling more to make sure I wasn’t going to come to California. Claire wanted to keep tabs on me, make certain I was not going to fight her for Leo’s money. I had no plans to do any such thing. He told me I would be left a handsome sum and Will would be taken care of which was more important than anything else.
I was living my life exactly as I wanted to and didn’t want anything to change. Vincent and I were seeing each other daily, Will was thriving in school, my work was going well, I had money in the bank, and a house, what more did I need? I began to see a therapist to work through some emotional issues from what I went through with Leo.
The last thing I wanted was to allow my deep feelings of anxiety and fear to impact the budding relationship with Vincent. I had a lot of baggage, it would take time to understand that Vincent was not Leo and he wouldn’t hurt me. I wanted to make the right choices with Will, give him the kind of childhood I had, with security and love.<
br />
“Claire,” I finally told her, “I’m not coming when he dies. We’ve said our goodbyes. You will never see me again.”
“I can’t trust you.” She hissed, her ever-present hard candy clinking against the enamel of her teeth. “You took his son away, how can I believe a word you say? So what, you came out here to see him and make amends. Whatever! You know, the media will be crawling all over when he passes away. Everyone will want to talk to you. Mark my words, Delia. Your face will be everywhere. People are going to want to hear the dirt on Leo. It’s going to be your moment.”
I could hardly imagine Leo’s death would be my moment to shine, but Claire was convinced that I would steal her thunder. The suffering lover versus the separated wife. His unselfish paramour who was there through thick and thin. For her, nursing Leo through his final days was a small sacrifice that would result in a lifetime of designer clothes, first-class trips, and plastic surgery. I didn’t want any of it.
As I listened to her rant and rave, my mind started to wander. It was such an incredible relief to know that I didn’t have to worry about Leo hiring someone to kidnap Will or sending the police to arrest me.
I chuckled as I considered that my biggest problem at the moment was a hysterical gold digger. Time would prove that I didn’t want anything from Leo or her. I gently said goodbye and hit the END button on my phone. I was done with that life.
I didn’t tell Vincent about Leo. For now, he was left in the dark about the identity of my ex-husband. I was not going to lie, but I wasn’t going to volunteer information either.
We spoke little of Leo, Will and I. We mentioned him in passing and discussed what happened during the week we were in California.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” he asked, his big eyes filling with tears.
I nodded and pulled him into a bear hug.
The sadness came and went. Sometimes he would ask about Leo, other days he would not bring up his name at all. He was content to go fishing on Saturday mornings or over to Vincent’s house in the evenings. He helped Will with his homework; the two of them were inseparable.