The Happiest Day

by Sandy Huth

  “I should go,” Rachel said. “I won’t bother you again.” She almost stumbled to the door but stopped and, without turning, said, “I won’t have him moved. Take care of him.”

  Peter hurriedly scribbled his contact information on a piece of paper, pressed his hand to Martine’s briefly, and smiled at the children before leaving the cottage. Rachel already sat in the car and did not speak as Peter drove back to the train station. It wasn’t until they were safely ensconced in their private car that Peter asked, “Why did you change your mind?”

  “I have so much. My job, the estate, the children…you…Martine gave herself fully to Theo. He should be where he was most loved.”

  “What about the children? What will you tell them?”

  “We’ll order a headstone and tell them that he’s buried there. They never need to know.”

  “What about the children we just saw? Will you ever tell your children about their half-brothers and sister?”

  “I don’t know. They’re too young now. I have plenty of time to figure that out.” She closed her eyes. “I’m exhausted. Would it bother you if I went to bed?”

  “Not in the least. The berth is yours. I’ll just read if the light won’t bother you.”

  She nodded and, slipping her shoes off, lay down on the narrow bed. It was barely a few minutes when Peter noticed she was already asleep. He pulled a book out of his bag and settled back, occasionally looking up and checking on her. She slept heavily for hours and he found himself drifting off, the book falling on his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he slept before jolting awake. He dimmed the light and moved quietly over to the berth, gently stroking back Rachel’s hair. He pulled back in surprise when he saw that her eyes were open and she was crying silent tears.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Come here.” He pulled her to him and stroked her back for long minutes, rocking her in his arms like a baby.

  “Peter?” she asked in a raw voice. “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything.” He kissed her tear-dampened hair.

  “Make love to me.”

  He froze, his hands stopping their movement. His first feeling was shock, followed almost immediately by arousal. The thought of holding her naked body against his again, after so many years, was extremely tempting. Thankfully, his brain was stronger than his body. “As much as it pains me to say this…no.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll hate yourself and me if we do. Tomorrow, you’ll be happy that I said no.”

  “When did you become so noble?” she asked ruefully.

  “I’m not happy about it, trust me.” He laid her gently back onto the bed. “Try to sleep.”

  She settled back into the berth. “That’s the second time you’ve refused my proposition. Some men might call you crazy.”

  He chuckled. “Sometimes I doubt my own sanity. Just like the first time, though, I’m trying to protect you from yourself.” He kissed her forehead. “Good night.”

  Her lips moved, saying “good night” silently as she drifted off to sleep, knowing that she was safe with this man.

  Chapter 27

  The next year fell into a predictable pattern. The children went to school and Rachel went to work. Holidays were muted out of respect for the loss of Theo. It was a time of healing for all of them and Rachel was relieved when she heard the children laughing during play. Only David remained quiet and introverted and Rachel suspected that this would be his personality into adulthood. He was still a sweet boy, gentle with his siblings and talented with the horses, but his easy way of interaction with others seemed to be gone.

  Peter spent most of his free time at the estate, stepping in as a father figure for the children. He was Rachel’s dearest friend, expecting nothing from her but always ready to help out where needed. Whereas he had previously dated, his social life seemed to be put on hold as he devoted his time to Rachel and her children. About ten months after their return from Europe, Rachel felt troubled enough about this to bring it up to him.

  He was spending the evening with them, helping the children with their homework while Rachel focused on work she had brought home from the office. Her new rule allowed the children to spread out around the study and do their school work while she was working in the evening, so they could all be together. She looked up from her work, rubbing her eyes tiredly, and viewed her family.

  David sat in an oversized chair, dark head bent over a book he was reading. A frown, so common to him now, marred his handsome face and his foot tapped with nervous energy. Lily was working on math and twirled one long curl with her finger while figuring fractions while she lay on her stomach on the floor. Matthew and Steven sat at a table with Peter, listening while he explained something about their science homework that even she didn’t understand. The boys were listening with rapt attention, their love of learning compounding with their admiration for Peter.

  Peter sat at the table, relaxed and smiling, as if there was no other place in the world he’d rather be. Rachel frowned. They were being unfair to him. They used him so much and were preventing him from living his own life.

  She suddenly found David’s eyes on her, speculative and somber. She knew that he realized what she was thinking and he was having the same concerns. After all, this was his father and now Peter seemed to belong to everyone. Rachel realized how unreasonable they were being towards Peter.

  She worked with a troubled mind until all of the children finished their work and left for bed after kissing and hugging both adults. Peter sighed and stretched his neck.

  “I don’t remember homework being so hard when we were in school,” he admitted. “Maybe my brain is just getting too old.”

  “I doubt that,” Rachel said. “Even still, your old brain would still be ten times better than my normal brain.”

  He grinned. “Maybe your brain is getting old, too,” he teased, standing. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Peter,” she said, halting him, “do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure. Is everything all right?” He came back towards her desk.

  “Not really. Peter…I think you’re spending too much time here.”

  His face was stunned. “What?”

  “It’s not that we don’t love having you but I’ve been thinking about this and-”

  “That was your first mistake,” he growled. “Every time you start to thinking, my gut clenches.”

  “Stop! I’m being serious. It’s not fair to you how much of your time we dominate. You have to be wanting some private time and…and…” she didn’t realize how hard this was going to be to say, “and social time with women.”

  He bit the corner of his lip as if he were trying to hold back a smile. “Rachel Julia, are you telling me you’re concerned with my love life?”

  She blushed a bright red. “You’re a very handsome man. I—”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

  “Peter, please! I just mean that I know women must be throwing themselves at you all the time and you feel so obligated to us that you can’t accept their offers…and…”

  “Are you finished?” he said with a grin. “Because I have to tell you, I am really enjoying seeing you so flustered and unsure of yourself. It’s a side of you I rarely see.”

  “I wish you’d be serious,” she muttered. “I’m trying to offer you your freedom.”

  “I didn’t realize that I didn’t have my freedom,” he said, his face serious now. “Rachel, I’m here because this is where I want to be.”

  “Really?” she asked in a husky whisper.

  “Really. I’ve had a lifetime of parties and women and meaningless conversations. You and your children are the closest thing to a family I have.” He came closer as if he meant to touch her but stopped short of her desk. Rachel wondered at the disappointment she felt. “This is where I want to be.”

  “Do you promise me that if something changes, you won’t feel
obligated to us?”

  “I promise.” He smiled a little then turned to leave. At the door, he stopped and asked, “Do you promise me that if something changes with you, you won’t let fear stand in your way?”

  “What do you mean?” Her heart fluttered a little at the look in his eyes when he turned back to look at her.

  “Rae…” he said gently. “You know what I mean. Good night, dear.”

  Things went on as usual for the next few months and the anniversary of Theo’s death passed quietly. Rachel was developing a restlessness in herself that she couldn’t pinpoint but knew that she needed, or maybe just wanted, a change. The opportunity for change came in the form of an invitation, her first since being widowed. It was to a charity ball for patrons of the arts to be held at Music Hall. She desperately wanted to go.

  “Should I?” she asked Peter. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

  “I think this is the perfect function for you to re-introduce yourself into society,” he said. “I got an invitation also, so I could escort you if you’d like.”

  “I would like that very much,” she said in relief.

  As the day approached, she felt herself becoming excited—something she had not felt in well over a year. She bought a new gown, emerald green and strapless, and had her hair done in an elegant upsweep for the night. Peter arrived in his tuxedo, taking her breath away.

  “You’re so stylish,” she said admiringly. “I’m going to have trouble keeping you to myself tonight.”

  His eyes had started glittering the moment he saw her sweeping down the steps in her gown. His look was frankly admiring and he shook his head. “No, you won’t. No one could tear me away from your side tonight.” He offered her his arm and after a quick good-bye to the children, they headed downtown.

  Peter wasn’t the only one who found Rachel stunning that evening. A bevy of unattached males buzzed around her all evening, bringing her drinks, asking for dances. Apparently word was out that Rachel Bressler was back on the market.

  As Rachel’s mood uplifted as the evening went on, Peter’s became darker. He time and time again had to relinquish her to another man and he didn’t even have the desire to respond to the multitude of women vying for his attention. He simply stood in the corner of the room, nursing a drink, his eyes becoming dark, his jaw set.

  One gentleman in particular was demanding Rachel’s companionship. Oscar Brighton, a successful banker with whom Rachel had had many business dealings, was making his interest known. As the evening went on, the other men began to fall away as they saw that Oscar was playing to win. To Peter’s dismay, he realized that Rachel was blooming under Oscar’s attention like a sunflower to the sun. She was tossing her head back and laughing at his jokes, playing with her hair, touching him on the arm when she spoke. Peter snapped when he saw Oscar guiding Rachel into a darkened hallway and she seemed all too eager to go with him.

  Slamming his drink down on the table, he strode after them and caught up with them just when Oscar’s mouth descended on Rachel’s and her arms came up to grasp his shoulders.

  Without thinking, Peter grabbed Oscar and yanked him away from Rachel.

  “What the…?” Oscar cried dazedly and Rachel gasped.

  “Peter, what are you doing?” she asked in a hushed, but outraged tone.

  “We need to talk,” he bit out, yanking her by the elbow.

  “Hey now!” Oscar blustered. “You can’t manhandle her that way!”

  “I can handle her however in the fuck want to handle her,” Peter said in a deadly tone. “And right now I’m really angry and would love to take some of my anger out on somebody. Are you volunteering?”

  Oscar took a step backwards even as he was asking, “Rachel, do you want me to get help?”

  “No, Oscar, thank you. I need to talk to Peter.”

  Neither one was quite sure who led whom into a quiet room which was thankfully unoccupied. Once inside, Rachel attacked first.

  “How dare you!” she hissed. “What gives you the right to act like such a Neanderthal?”

  “For an entire year, I have been there for you!” he exploded. “I have done everything you wanted me to do. I have devoted every moment of my spare time to you.”

  “No one asked you to,” she said in a hurt voice.

  “No one asked me,” he agreed, still very angry. “But I needed to be there. I needed to be near you. All along, I figured when you were ready, it would be me that you would turn to. But what happens? Your first night out, you let every man but me sniff around you then go off with the richest one to scratch your itch!”

  She slapped him hard on the cheek. “That is a vile thing to say.”

  “But the truth,” he said, not backing down. “God damn it Rachel! When it is finally going to be my turn?”

  Her temper flared. “You had your turn sixteen years ago. And you threw me away. You slept with your wife while you were sleeping with me and when you had to make a choice, you chose her. So, you want to know when it’s your turn? Never! You don’t get a second chance, Peter!” She whirled to leave the room but he grabbed her arm in a biting grasp.

  “You think I threw you away? I have been protecting you for the past sixteen years—Christ, even longer than that!”

  She knew she couldn’t argue with that. He had always protected her. However, she was having trouble connecting the dots between his protection and choosing his wife over her. “Sorry, I don’t quite understand. Am I supposed to thank you for dumping me for a woman you had professed to hate? How exactly were you protecting me?”

  “Rachel, she was blackmailing me.”

  He couldn’t have stunned her more. “Blackmailing you? Why?”

  He grabbed her by the upper arms. “I knew the truth and so did she.”

  Her face grew confused. “The truth about what?”

  “Are you going to make me say it? Really? Because I was willing to go to my grave with this secret to protect you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As Peter continued to stare at her, she shrugged. “I guess you’re going to have to say it, then. What secret?”

  His lips pursed in frustration. “After all this, you still won’t admit it. Fine. I know that you killed my mother and Frederick Stern.”

  It was as someone had sucked the air out of the room. Rachel stared at him, her mouth open in incredulousness. “I…I did what?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “My God, why would you think that?”

  “Oh, stop it!” he yelled, his fists clenched. “Don’t lie about it, not now. It only makes it worse. I’ve given you everything but you can’t even trust me.”

  The anger drained out of Rachel as it fully hit her of what she was being accused. The anger was immediately replaced by an overwhelming feeling of hurt. “Go away,” she said in a dangerously low voice. “Leave now.”

  “Why?” he asked, bewildered. “Let’s finally talk about it, now that it’s out in the open.”

  “Then I’ll leave.” She walked on trembling legs to the doorway and paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I can’t ever forgive you for this, Peter. Don’t ever try to see me again.”

  She called for a taxi and left the building as quickly as she could before she saw Peter again. She didn’t know quite what she would say if she did.

  She sat up half the night, still in her gown, wondering at his words. Finally, around two a.m., she checked on the children and headed out of the house, getting in her car. She had to confront him.

  She knew he’d still be up. When he answered his door, he still wore his tux, but the tie hung loose and the shirt had been pulled out of his pants. His hair was mussed as if he had run his hands through it and his eyes were bloodshot.

  “Rae…” he said between stiff lips, closing his eyes. “Are you real?”

  “As real as it gets. You may wish this was a dream before it’s all over.”

  “It’s a nightmare,” he rejoined. “A fucking nightmare.”

 
“May I come in?”

  He didn’t answer, just turned and walked away, leaving the front door open. She entered and followed him into his living room where he threw himself on his sofa, closing his eyes.

  “Peter, why would you think I killed your mother?”

  “Someone who knew the truth told me.”

  “Did you ever consider that the person was lying? Who was it?”

  “Norris.”

  It was like a punch to her gut. She gasped with the pain of it. “Norris told you I killed Helen and Frederick? When was this?”

  “The day you came back from your honeymoon.”

  “My God,” she breathed. “That son of a bitch.” She turned on her heels and walked over to the floor- to-ceiling glass windows, looking out into the darkness. “Why would he say that?”

  “Rachel, please forgive me for being obtuse but it is the middle of the night. Are you saying that he was lying?”

  “Yes, I’m saying he was lying.”

  “Do you know who killed her?”

  “Of course I do. It was Norris. That’s why I testified for him. He needed an alibi.” She turned, anger surging anew. “Damn it, Peter, how could you believe him?”

  He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I confronted him the night I came out to the estate after you returned from Europe. I told him I knew he was lying because you had been with me until five in the morning. I accused him of killing my mother and Stern. That’s when he told me that you had killed them and he was doing all of this to protect you from going to jail. He said you had killed Helen and Stern and he had helped you stage the scene.”

  “So, all of these years, you thought I killed your mother?”

  “I didn’t blame you for it. I knew how much she had hated you…I figured it was probably self-defense and you were too scared to come forward with the truth.” He looked up at her. “Blanche found out and blackmailed me into staying with her. She knew I’d do anything to protect you. The day I asked her for a divorce so I could be with you, she told me that she had stolen Norris’ journal and everything was in there. There was nothing I could do. I had to break it off with you.”