Safe Harbour

by Danielle Steel

  “Where are you going?” Amy asked responsibly for once, as she saw Pip walk off the deck onto the sand, and Pip turned to look at her innocently.

  “Just on the beach with Mousse.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “No, I'll be fine. Thanks,” Pip said, and Amy went back to her call, feeling that she'd done her duty to Ophélie. And a moment later, both child and dog were bounding down the beach.

  She had run for a long time when she saw him finally. He was in the same place, sitting on the folding stool, working at his easel. He heard Mousse barking in the distance, and turned to look at her. He had missed her the day before, surprisingly, and was relieved to see her small brown face smiling up at him.

  “Hello,” she said, as though greeting an old friend.

  “Hi there. How are you and Mousse?”

  “We're fine. I would have come sooner, but I was afraid you wouldn't be here if I came too early.”

  “I've been here since ten o'clock.” Like Pip, he had been afraid they'd miss each other. He had been looking forward to the meeting just as much as she, although neither of them had in fact promised to be there. They just wanted to be, which was the best way.

  “You added another boat,” Pip commented, examining the painting carefully. “I like it. It's pretty.” It was a little red fishing boat in the distance, near the sunset, and it added punch to the painting. She liked it instinctively and he was pleased. “How do you imagine them so well?” she asked admiringly as Mousse disappeared in the sandgrass on the dune.

  “I've seen a lot of boats.” He smiled warmly at her. She liked him. Very much, in fact, and there was no question in her mind that he was her friend. “I have a little sailboat I keep in the lagoon. I'll have to show it to you sometime.” It was small and old, but he cherished it. It was an old wooden boat he went out in alone whenever he could. He had loved sailing since he was Pip's age. “What did you do yesterday?” He liked hearing about her, and looking at her. More than ever, he wanted to do a sketch of her, but he loved talking to her too, which was rare for him.

  “My godmother came to visit, with her baby. He's three months old. His name is William and he's really cute. She lets me carry him, and he giggles a lot. He doesn't have a father,” she said, looking matter-of-fact.

  “That's too bad,” Matthew said carefully, taking a break from his work and enjoying her. “How did that happen?”

  “She's not married. She got him from a bank or something. I don't know. It sounds complicated. My mom says it's not important. He just doesn't have one, that's all.”

  He got the drift of it better than she had and was intrigued. It sounded very modern to him. He still believed in traditional marriages, and mothers and fathers, although he was well aware that life didn't always work out that way. But it was generally a good place to start. He wondered again what had happened to Pip's father, if anything, but he didn't get the feeling she was living with him, and he was afraid to ask. He didn't want to upset her unnecessarily, or pry. Their budding friendship seemed to rely on a certain amount of discretion and delicacy, which was both her nature and his.

  “Do you want to draw today?” he asked, watching her. She was like a little elf hopping around the beach. She seemed so light and lithe, sometimes her feet barely touched the sand.

  “Yes, please,” she said, ever polite, and with that, he held a sketch pad and pencil out to her.

  “What are you going to draw today? Mousse again? Now that you know how to do the hind legs, it should be easier,” he said practically, and she looked pensive as she glanced up at his work.

  “Do you think I could do a boat?” It seemed a stretch to her.

  “I don't see why not. Do you want to try and copy mine? Or would you rather do a sailboat? I can sketch one for you, if you like.”

  “I can copy the ones in your painting, if that's all right.” She didn't want to put him to a lot of trouble, which was typical of her. She was used to being cautious not to make waves or cause problems. She had always been careful with her father, and it had served her well. He never got as angry at her as he did at Chad. Although most of the time, once they lived in a bigger house, he didn't pay much attention to her at all. He went to an office then, and came home late, and traveled a lot. He had even learned to fly his own plane. He had taken her up in it several times when he first got it, and even let her bring the dog, with Chad's permission. And Mousse had been very well behaved.

  “Can you see from down there?” Matthew asked, and she nodded, from where she sat near his feet. He had brought a sandwich to the beach with him, and unwrapped it. He had decided to eat lunch on the beach that day, in case she came by at lunchtime. He hadn't wanted to miss her, and he offered half the sandwich to her, from his perch on his stool. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Bowles. And yes, I can see very well.”

  “Matt will do.” He smiled at how polite and formal she was. “Did you have lunch?”

  “No, but I'm not hungry, thank you.” And then a moment later, as she sketched, out of nowhere came a bit of information that surprised him. It was easier talking to him while she wasn't looking at him, and was intent on her sketch of the boat. “My mother never eats. Or not very often anyway. She's gotten very thin.” It was obvious that Pip was worried about her, and Matt was intrigued.

  “Why is that? Has she been sick?”

  “No. Just sad.” They went on drawing for a while, and he refused to pry. He figured she would tell him as much as she wanted to, when she was ready. And he was in no rush to press her. Theirs was a friendship that seemed to float in space, independent of time. And he felt as though he had known her for a long time.

  And then finally, it occurred to him to ask the obvious. “Have you been sad too?” She nodded silently, and never raised her eyes from the sketch. And this time he purposely did not ask why. He could sense painful memories wafting around her, and he had to resist an urge to reach out and touch her hair or her hand. He didn't want to frighten her, or appear inappropriate by being overly familiar. “How are you now?” It seemed a safer question than other possibilities, and this time she looked up at him.

  “I'm better. It's been nice at the beach. I think my mom is better too.”

  “I'm glad to hear it. Maybe she'll start eating soon.”

  “That's what my godmother said. She worries about my mom a lot too.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters, Pip?” Matt asked her. It seemed a safe question to him, and he was totally unprepared for the look in her eyes as she turned her face up to him. The look of sorrow in her eyes seared him to his very soul, and nearly knocked him off his stool.

  “I…yes…” She hesitated, unable to speak for a moment, and then she went on, still looking at him with those sad amber eyes that seemed to draw him into her world. “No…I mean sort of… well, it's hard to explain. My brother's name was Chad. He's fifteen. Well…he was…he had an accident last October.…” Oh God, he hated himself for asking her, and now he understood why her mother was so devastated and wasn't eating. He couldn't even fathom it, but there was nothing worse than the loss of a child.

  “I'm so sorry, Pip.…” He didn't know what elseto say.

  “It's all right. He was very smart, like my father.” And what she said next nearly finished him and explained everything. “My dad's plane crashed, and they were both… they both died. It exploded,” she said with an audible lump in her throat, but she was glad she had told him. She wanted him to know.

  Matt looked at her for an endless moment before he said a word, or could. “How terrible for all of you. I'm really sorry, Pip. How lucky for your mom that she has you.”

  “I guess so,” Pip said thoughtfully, sounding unconvinced. “She's been pretty sad though. She stays in her room a lot.” At times Pip had wondered if her mother was sadder because Chad had died and not Pip. It was impossible to know, but the question had inevitably come to mind. She had been so close to Chad and wa
s so destroyed now that he was gone.

  “I would be too.” His own losses had damn near drowned him, but they were nothing like hers. His were far more ordinary, and the kind of thing you had to live with and accept. Losing a husband and son were far greater challenges than any he had weathered, and he could only imagine the blow it had been to Pip, particularly if her mother was depressed and withdrawn, which sounded as though it was the case from what Pip had said.

  “She goes to a group in the city to talk about it. But I'm not sure it helps. She says everyone is really sad.” It sounded morbid to him, but he knew it was the thing to do these days, to go to groups for whatever miseries you had. But a group of mourning bereft people struggling with their losses sounded grim to him, and hardly the right thing to cheer you up.

  “My dad was an inventor, sort of. He did things with energy. I don't know what he did, but he was really good at it. We used to be poor, and when I was six, we got a big house and he bought a plane.” It summed it up fairly succinctly, although it didn't entirely clarify what her father's profession was, but it was enough information for him. “Chad was really smart like him. I'm more like my mom.”

  “What does that mean?” Matt took exception to the implication of what she was saying. She was an exceptionally bright, articulate little girl. “You're smart too, Pip. Very smart. Both your parents must be. And you certainly are.” It sounded like she had been pushed aside for a bright older brother, who was perhaps more interested in their father's field, whatever it was. It sounded like rank chauvinism to him, and he didn't like the impression it had obviously given her, of being second best, or worse yet, second rate.

  “My dad and my brother used to fight a lot,” she offered gratuitously. She seemed to need to talk to him, but if her mother was depressed, she probably had no one else to confide in, except maybe the godmother with the baby. “Chad said he hated him, but he really didn't. He just said it when he got mad at my dad.”

  “That sounds about right for fifteen,” Matt said with a gentle smile, although he didn't know that firsthand. He hadn't seen his own son in six years. The last time he had seen Robert, he was twelve. And Vanessa ten.

  “Do you have kids?” Pip asked him, as though reading his mind and seeing them. It was his turn to share with her now.

  “Yes, I do.” He didn't tell her he hadn't seen them in six years. It would have been too hard to explain why. “Vanessa and Robert. They're sixteen and eighteen, and they live in New Zealand.” They had been there for over nine years. It had taken him almost exactly three to finally give up. Their silence had convinced him.

  “Where's that?” Pip looked puzzled. She'd never heard of New Zealand. Or maybe once, she thought, but she couldn't remember where it was. She thought it was in Africa maybe, or somewhere like that, but she didn't want to sound ignorant to Matt.

  “It's a long way from here. It takes about twenty hours to get there by plane. They live in a place called Auckland. I think they're pretty happy there.” Happier than he had been able to tolerate, or wanted to admit to her.

  “That must be sad for you, having them so far away. You must miss them. I miss my dad and Chad,” she said, and wiped a tear from her eye, which nearly tore his heart out. They had shared a lot in their second afternoon, and neither of them had drawn a thing in over an hour. It never occurred to her to ask him how often he saw them, she just assumed he did. But she was sorry for him anyway, for having them so far away.

  “I miss them too.” He got off his stool then, and came to sit next to her on the sand. Her small bare feet were dug into the sand, and she looked up at him with a sad smile.

  “What do they look like?” She was curious about them, just as he had been about her. It was a reasonable thing to ask.

  “Robert has dark hair and brown eyes like me. And Vanessa's blond with big blue eyes. She looks just like her mother. Does anyone else in your family have red hair like you?” Pip shook her head with a shy smile at his question.

  “My dad had dark hair like you, and blue eyes, and so did Chad. My mom is blond. My brother used to call me carrot stick, because I have skinny legs and red hair.”

  “That's nice of him,” Matt said, gently tousling the short curly red hair. “You don't look like a carrot stick to me.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said proudly. She liked the name now, because it reminded her of him. She even missed his insults and his temper now that he was gone. Just as Ophélie missed even Ted's dark days. It was odd the things you missed about people once they were gone.

  “Are we going to draw today?” he asked, deciding that they had shared enough painful confidences and both needed a break, and she looked relieved when he said it. She had wanted to tell him, but talking about it too much made her sad again.

  “Yes. I want to,” she said, picking up the sketch pad as he went back to his stool. And for the next hour or two they exchanged occasional non sequiturs and pleasantries that challenged neither of them. They were just comfortable being near each other, particularly knowing that they both knew more about their respective histories. Some of it was important information.

  As she sat and worked on her drawings, and he on his painting, the clouds broke and the sun came out, and the wind died down. It turned out to be a beautiful afternoon. So much so that it was five o'clock before either of them realized how late it was. The time they had spent together had flown. And Pip looked suddenly worried when Matt told her it was after five.

  “Will your mom be back by now?” he asked, looking concerned. He didn't want to get her into trouble over an innocent but productive afternoon. He was glad that they had talked. He hoped that it had helped her somehow.

  “Probably. I'd better go back. She might get mad.”

  “Or worried,” he said, wondering if he should go back with her to reassure her mother, or maybe that would make it worse if Pip came home with a strange man. He looked at the drawing she'd been working on then, and was impressed. “That looks great, Pip. You did a good job. Go on home now. I'll see you soon.”

  “Maybe I'll come back tomorrow, if she takes a nap. Will you be here, Matt?” There was a peculiar intimacy about the way she spoke to him, as though they truly were old friends. But they both felt that way now, after the confidences they'd exchanged. All that they had shared had brought them closer, as it was meant to.

  “I'm here every afternoon. Don't get yourself in trouble now, little one.”

  “I won't.” She stopped for a moment and smiled at him, like a hummingbird poised in midair, and then with a wave, clutching her drawing, and with Mousse at her heels, she dashed off toward home. And within instants, she was far down the beach. She danced around backward once and waved at him again, and he stood for a long time watching her, until she was a tiny figure far down the beach, and finally all he could see clearly was the dog running back and forth.

  She was breathless when she got to the house. She had run all the way home. Her mother was sitting on the deck, reading, and Amy was nowhere in sight. Ophélie looked up with a frown.

  “Amy said you'd gone down to the beach. I couldn't see you anywhere, Pip. Where were you? Did you find a friend?” She wasn't angry at the child, but she'd been concerned, and she had forced herself to stay calm. She didn't want her going to strangers' houses with them, it was a rule that Pip knew well, and conformed to. But Pip also knew that her mother worried more now than she had in the past.

  “I was way down there,” she waved vaguely in the direction from whence she'd come. “I was drawing a boat, and I didn't know what time it was. I'm sorry, Mom.”

  “Don't do it again, Pip. I don't want you wandering off that far. And I don't want you anywhere near the public beach. You never know who those people are.” She wanted to tell her mother that some of them were nice, or Matt was at least. But she was afraid to tell her about her new friend. She sensed instinctively that her mother wouldn't understand. And she was right. “Stay around here next time.” She was aware that the child was
getting adventuresome. She was probably bored hanging around the house all day, or being alone on the beach with the dog. But nonetheless, Ophélie was concerned. She didn't ask to see the drawing, it never even occurred to her, as Pip went to her room, and laid it on the table next to the one of the dog. They were souvenirs of afternoons that were precious to her, and reminded her of Matt. She didn't have a crush on him, but there was no denying they had formed a special bond.

  “How was your day?” Pip asked her mother when she came back to the deck. But she could see how it had been. Ophélie looked tired. She often did after her group.

  “It was all right.” She had been to the lawyer about Ted's estate. They still had some taxes to pay, and the last of the insurance money had come in. It was going to be a while before the estate was closed. Maybe even a long time. Ted had left everything in good order, and she had more money than she'd ever need. Hopefully most of it would go to Pip one day. Ophélie had never been extravagant. In fact, in some ways, she had always felt they'd been happier when they were poor. His success had brought headaches with it, and a lot of stress he had never had before. Not to mention the plane he had died in with Chad.

  Ophélie spent hours every day fighting back the memories, particularly of that last day. That hideous call that had altered her life forever. And the fact that she had forced Ted to take Chad. He had had meetings in L.A., and wanted to go alone, but she had thought it would be good for both of them to spend some time together. Chad had been doing better than he had been in a while, and she thought they could both handle it. But neither of them had been enthused about sharing the trip. She blamed herself for selfish motives too. Their son required so much attention, and had been in such a precarious state for months, she had wanted a break from him, and to spend a quiet afternoon with Pip. With all the attention focused on Chad constantly, she never seemed to spend enough time with her. It was the first opportunity they'd had in a long time. And now it was all they had. Each other. Their life, their family, their happiness had been destroyed. And the fortune Ted had left meant nothing to Ophélie. She would have given all of it to spend the rest of her life with Ted, and to have Chad alive too.