by Lynn, Sophia
Marnie looked at him hard. There was no trace of deception or insincerity to him. "As what?" she asked, and she wondered if she saw him flinch.
"It wouldn't be as my daughter," he said. "She would have the best of everything, she would be given the finest education. She could become my ward, a distant cousin. Something like that. It happens often enough."
Marnie was enough of a reader and history fan to know about arrangements like that. Her stomach was growing colder and colder, and she pulled her hand away from him. "And what would I be?"
Philip looked at her, and just then, she couldn't read his expression at all.
"We could be together," he said. "Not at the palace, of course. Some subtly and some care would be required, especially after I get married."
“"Get married …? Oh my god, are you actually asking me what I think you're asking me?"
He flinched ever so slightly, but it was enough for her to figure out that she had hit the nail on the head.
"My parents have been putting pressure on me to marry," he said. "The reason why I'm in New York is because I couldn't deal with it. Then I saw you, and found out about Victoria, and now everything's been turned upside down. If I marry, I will have all of the power and money to do exactly what I want, and Marnie, what I want is to give the world to you and to Victoria."
"By keeping us in a little house off in the country somewhere," Marnie shot back. "By making us your dirty little secret …"
Philip looked shocked. "Marnie … I would never consider you my dirty little secret. This isn't what this is all about at all …"
She was suddenly so angry that she could have spit at him. "Oh? Really, Prince Philip? Why don't you tell me what you would call it, hmm? What did your historians call it when women like me loved men like you?"
Damn, damn, damn. She hadn't meant to use that word. She hadn't meant to reveal that much of herself, but the damage was done. There was no coming back from it, so she only bulldozed on.
"I don't think you understand what I'm offering or what you're turning down," Philip said, a darkness stealing over his face. "I can give you both so much, and you are turning it away over something incredibly petty, something that shouldn't matter even a little bit …"
"Do you know what it's like, raising a girl?" Marnie asked, her voice strident.
Philip looked momentarily confused. "What do you mean?"
"The world is terrifying for girls, Philip. It doesn't matter how smart or kind or clever you are. People look at girls, and sooner than you want to believe, they realize that they are only good for one thing."
"She's five!" Philip exclaimed, and Marnie offered him a hard grin.
"Ever hear your cousins talk? What about your mother? Believe me when I say that the pressure for girls to grow up fast is right there, and it isn't even all that difficult to see.
"Every day, I fight with the world to protect Victoria, to make sure that she understands that she is worth so much more. So much more than what the assholes on the subway want from her or what her boss might imply some day."
Philip looked grief-stricken at her words, but she continued. This was something he had to hear. He had to understand this.
"You would know this if you were with me, raising her. I understand that you didn't know. What I'm not convinced of is whether it would have made a difference."
"Marnie, you're not being fair."
"Fair is being open with the people who care about you and who you care about," she said, her voice a little bit gentler. "Fair is recognizing those who love you and support you."
There was a pause, and when she continued, her voice was softer, sadder. "What is it going to be like when you do get married?" she asked. "I know you are going to. You care too much about your family not to, and about your country as well. When that happens, you will have a woman in your life who stands by your side. You'll have children with her. After that, what do I tell Victoria when she asks why we are always lesser than your other family? What do I tell myself?"
Philip reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. There was no anger in that gesture, nothing but weariness and pain.
"I wouldn't let that happen," he said, but Marnie shook her head.
"Don't you see, Philip? You're planning for it. You want to put us out in some remote location where you can have us whenever you like. It might be a very beautiful prison, but it is still a prison."
She could see the moment when the truth of her words struck Philip. He could see how it would go, and to his credit, he looked uncomfortable. Marnie, for her part, had never felt so tired in her life.
"I want to give Victoria the very best," he said. "You too."
For some reason, the thought of that made her smile a little. "That's the problem with you, Philip," she said gently. "You never thought all that much of yourself either. The best is yourself. It's not what your money can buy, and it's not all the classes you can make sure she attends or what spas I get to go to. It's you. That's all we want, and that's the one thing that you can't give."
Philip was silent for a very long time. He sat in the dimness of the room as if he were a man turned to stone. Marnie was outwardly calm, but underneath her cool exterior was a welter of emotions, anger, grief and more, that could not be quiet, would not be quiet.
"I see," he said. "I understand."
When he stood, Marnie felt as if her heart was ripping in two, tearing like heavy paper. She kept herself from reaching for him, because she couldn't stand to do so and be rebuffed. His offer was made from the heart, but if that was all he could give them, she wouldn't have him. She knew where it would lead, to an empty life and one that would make her grow small and bitter.
She looked up at him. For a moment, his hand hovered next to her hair, as if he wanted to touch her one last time. For the second time in her life, she realized that he would never touch her again. She had been wrong the first time, but she wouldn't be wrong the second time.
"I'm sorry, Marnie. Tell Victoria that I am sorry as well."
She wanted to tell him that he should tell Victoria himself, but she couldn't stand the idea. If she, an adult woman, felt as if her world was rocking back and forth on its moorings, how would a tiny child deal with it? She couldn't do that to her daughter.
He got up, and left.
Suddenly, Marnie was alone in her apartment. It should have been a familiar feeling, but somehow, over the last few weeks, she had become unused to it. There was an echoing silence where once she had had Philip to fill it, and even when they were simply resting after a long day out, there was the feeling of someone else in the world, someone else who cared.
It wasn't real, she tried to tell herself. It was just temporary. He was playing daddy and husband. He wasn't really going to stay.
That was what she tried to tell herself but somewhere else in her mind was the rock-hard understanding that he was being completely real. She shook her head, trying to shake it away. She was no one's mistress, and she refused to let anyone consider Victoria Philip's bastard.
Marnie knew that she had to be strong, both for her own sake and for that of her daughter. She had been for so long before Philip showed up, but now it felt impossible. Since she had been a single mother, she had worked up an image of herself as a stone fortress, impregnable and powerful enough to protect her daughter from every possible ill or menace. Now she felt as fragile as glass.
I need to be strong, she thought to herself over and over again, but somehow, her heart didn't want to listen. She started to cry, and the best she could do was to keep it quiet so that her child wouldn't hear and worry.
*
On the cab ride back to his hotel, Philip started out numb. He felt as if everything he was seeing and feeling was removed. Everything was distant and strange, and a part of him was convinced that the past hour or so was nothing more than a particularly bad dream. He hadn't talked with Marnie. She hadn't told him that he was essentially makin
g her his whore. He could still see the most lovely woman in the world and the daughter that they had made together.
It wasn't until he was in the hotel room with the door behind him that he started to feel something, and underneath that numbness was rage. It wasn't rage directed at Marnie or even himself. It was a rage at the world for being the way it was, and for forcing people into the roles that never suited them. He was going to lose Marnie a second time, and for the same damned reason, and suddenly the fury of that broke him apart.
Before he knew what he was doing, there was a lamp in his hands and he flung it straight across the room where it smashed into the fireplace. Then a ceramic bowl followed it, and then a chair.
By the time Philip was done, the room was trashed, but there was a calmness in him. He realized now that the anger was merely hiding something much different, and at the bottom of it all was grief.
The anger made sense, but the grief was something he had to live with. It didn't matter how or why, but he had lost. He had lost Marnie, and he had lost Victoria. Less than a month after discovering the family that he had never even known that he wanted, he was losing them, and the pain that that caused was so intense he wasn't even sure that he would survive it.
Tears burned at his eyes, and he swiped them away angrily. Marnie, in one gloriously unguarded moment, had said that she loved him. Fool that he was, he hadn't said it back to her. Now Philip wondered if it would have made a difference. If she knew that he suffered at the idea of being together but legally apart as well, would she have changed her mind?
Philip knew it didn't matter.
One of the things that he had always respected about Marnie was the fact that she was incredibly decisive. She knew her own mind, and she knew what she could and could not stand. If she could not stand the arrangement that he had proposed, she would not agree to it, no matter how much she loved him.
Finally, Philip collapsed on a small armchair, the last bit of undamaged furniture in his room. With a nearly careless gesture, he dialed his mother.
"Philip! You got the message! What are you doing? What's happening there—?"
"I'm fine, mother," he said hollowly. "I'm coming home. I'm getting married. I am done with this."
To his surprise, his mother didn't crow over her victory like his father might have done. Instead, there was a silence at the end of the line as she considered what must have changed to make him sound like that.
"It will be for the best, you will see," she said. "Ever since you were born, I have known that you have a grand destiny in front of you. Now that you are willing to submit to it, there is no end to the good you can do."
He knew what she was talking about. Navarra was a wealthy country, one that had a great deal of influence throughout the world. Both at home and abroad, there were many different social goods he could do.
When he thought about doing good and taking care of things, however, what he thought of was a dark-haired girl with black eyes, glancing up at him as he looked down at the paints. He thought about her solemnly taking his hand and making sure that he knew how to draw. Then he saw her flying towards him, her hands full of paint and her eyes full of laughter.
That was the good he wanted to do. With Victoria and Marnie gone, however, it felt like there was nothing else worth his time. He knew that wasn't true. He had a life before them, and he would have a life after.
He just wasn't sure that it was a life worth having.
CHAPTER SIX
The next day Marnie woke up to a deep throbbing in her head and a feeling as if her heart had been ripped to pieces and then put back together. For one happy moment, she thought she was sick and wondered if Philip would lie down with her a little longer. Then she woke up a little more and wished that she hadn't.
The problem with being a mother, she thought, was that life wouldn't ever really pause for her pain.
Even if she felt as if she wanted to lie down and never wake up again, she still had to go rouse Victoria from a dead sleep and get her ready for school. She had to cook breakfast, check her emails from her editor, and look into the summer programs that were being offered in the district. When she saw that they offered ballet and a few art classes, she winced. They would be adequate, and regardless Victoria would love them, but from an adult's perspective, she knew that they would be nowhere near as good as what Philip could provide.
Now that she had slept, Marnie realized that she wasn't angry anymore, not really. She could have tried to hang on to the rage, because at least it was better than feeling sad, but she knew it wasn't real anymore. She wasn't angry at Philip for not being the man or the relationship she needed, but she was sad about it. She was in pain, and she had to remember that that was what it really was. Otherwise, she risked it turning into a dark spot inside her, one that could grow to poison everything else around it.
"Mama, mama, look."
She looked down from making eggs to see Victoria holding up a picture. With a sinking heart, Marnie saw that it showed three figures, one tall, one medium sized, and one small. All three had dark, dark hair that Victoria had obviously created from pressing very hard on her black crayon, and while two of the figures had black eyes, the medium one had blue eyes like her own.
"It's a present for Philip," Victoria declared. "I made it for him so he can see how important he is."
She had done the same thing for Cassie and some of their other family friends, but she had never drawn them with herself and Marnie before. Any hope that Marnie had had about simply letting things go away on their own withered.
"Victoria, will you go sit down please? I'm just finishing up breakfast."
Victoria frowned. "I wasn't done showing you my picture yet," she protested.
"Victoria, now," Marnie said sternly.
With a wounded look, Victoria went to sit at the table, but the picture was left pointed next to her on the table. It was clear that she wished to tell her mother more about the picture, but Marnie didn't think that she could deal with that.
It's just like a Band-Aid, she thought. It is way better to simply rip it off, cry it out, and then get back to business …
"Victoria, that is a very nice picture, but I have to tell you something," she said as she brought their plates to the table.
Victoria, who had always been exquisitely sensitive when it came to her mother's feelings, began to look anxious before anything had even been said.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"Philip is a very good friend of ours, but … but he won't be coming around for a while, okay?"
To Marnie's dismay, Victoria's dark eyes went wide. "Why?" she asked, her voice as high as a wounded bird's. "Why? What did I do?"
Marnie gasped as if someone had punched her in the throat. "Nothing! Nothing, sweetie, I swear to you! This isn't a punishment or anything like that, I promise! You did nothing wrong!"
"If I didn't do anything wrong, why did he leave?" Victoria demanded.
Marnie bit her lip. She could feel the world shifting underneath her. Victoria was young, but she wasn't too young to simply let some traumas go. Her heart ached for her daughter needing to learn this lesson so soon.
"He left because adults sometimes need to leave, sweetheart," she said as gently as she could. "It's just something that happens …"
"Does Philip not like us anymore?" she asked in a small voice, and Marnie reached over and hugged her small daughter tight.
"No, sweetie, I promise, he likes us very much. He just … can't be around anymore."
Marnie wasn't sure what it was that finally broke through to her daughter, but after that, great fat tears started to roll down Victoria's face. She sobbed soundlessly and laid her forehead down on the table. All Marnie could do was comfort her daughter as she seemed to cry out far more tears than her small body could hold.
Throughout Victoria's grief, Marnie's own heart was crying as well. Finally, though, she had to draw back, and even Vict
oria's tears dried up, though she still looked red-eyed and pale when her mother stood up.
"It's okay to feel sad when someone leaves," Marnie said. "Even if it's only for a little while or if you are going to see them again. But we still have things to do and work, okay? Go on and get ready for school."
For a moment, Victoria looked as if she would simply continue sitting at the table, but then with a tiny nod, she stood up to get dressed. While she was teeth-grindingly slow, she did manage to get ready for the group that would walk her to school.
She's tough, she'll be fine, Marnie thought. So will I.
Or at least, that was what she thought until the school called.
*
At the hospital later that day, the doctor explained it to her, but despite his kind words, Marnie could only think that her daughter had sickened with grief.
"Well, children can be both incredibly tough and unbelievably delicate at the same time," he said. "If she had an emotional upset, illness that was held at bay could definitely get a foothold."
"But she'll be all right, right?" asked Marnie. "I mean, she'll heal up? I can take her home?"
The fact that the doctor didn't tell her yes right away made her nerves dance.
"We'd like to keep her overnight for observation. We'll see how things look in the morning."
With that, the doctor was called away, and Marnie was left alone in the hospital hallway. They had given Victoria a sedative to help her rest and heal, and Marnie went in to sit next to her. Her beloved beautiful daughter looked so pale and still that it felt as if her own heart had stopped.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry …"
She held her daughter's hand with one hand, while with the other she sent a text.
Please. Come.
*
Philip arrived at the hospital in less than half an hour, an impressive feat given the fact that he was at the airport. When the text came, he had had his pilot dock the plane again, and called for a cab that got him to the hospital as quickly as it was possible to cut through Manhattan.