Safe Harbour

by Danielle Steel

  Pip finished her homework on Friday, and had a friend over to spend the night, and Andrea came over to have dinner with them. She picked up from Pip that Matt was coming to take them to dinner the following day, and raised an eyebrow at Ophélie.

  “You're holding out on me, old friend. The child molester's coming here?” She looked amused.

  “He wanted to see Pip,” Ophélie said benignly, and believed it was true, although she was pleased to see him too, and considered him a friend. “Maybe we should stop calling him that one of these days.”

  “Maybe the term ‘boyfriend’ would suit him better,” she said, as Ophélie objected instantly with a shake of her head.

  “Hardly. I have no interest in having a boyfriend. Only a friend.” And she knew from their conversations that Matt felt the same way. She had decided that romance was no longer in the cards for her, nor did she want it to be. Ever again.

  “That's what you're interested in. What about him? Guys don't come into town to take women to dinner, just to see their little girls. Trust me on that one. I know men.” That she did, as they both knew.

  “Maybe some do.” Ophélie held firm.

  “He's just biding his time,” Andrea said confidently. “As soon as he thinks you're comfortable, he'll make a move.”

  “I hope not,” Ophélie said, looking sincere, and then, to change the subject, she told Andrea about her week at Wexler. Andrea was impressed, and glad she'd found something to do.

  But the following afternoon, when the doorbell rang, and Ophélie went to answer it, Andrea's assessment of her friendship with Matt crossed her mind as she opened the door. And she ardently hoped Andrea was wrong.

  He was standing there in a leather jacket and gray slacks, a plain gray turtleneck, and a well-shined pair of loafers. It was the kind of outfit Ted would have worn, only better. Ted never remembered to shine his shoes, nor cared. He was too concerned with more important things. Ophélie shined them for him.

  Matt smiled the moment he saw her, and as soon as Pip bounded down the stairs and he saw her, Ophélie knew her friend was wrong, however well she thought she knew men. Andrea was wrong about this one, there was no doubt in Ophélie's mind, and she was immensely relieved. He exuded fatherly kindness to Pip, and brotherly concern for her. After Pip had shown him her room and her treasures, and her latest drawings, and had finally calmed down, Ophélie told him a little about the Wexler Center, and he sounded impressed and intrigued. She even told him about the outreach team.

  “I hope you're not planning to join them,” he said quietly, with a look of concern. “That's an important aspect of their work, I'm sure, and a good thing, but it sounds dangerous to me.”

  “I'm sure it is. They're all very skilled. The woman on the team is an ex-policewoman, one of the men is an ex-cop and a martial arts expert, and so is she, and the third one is an ex–Navy SEAL. They don't need any help from me!” She smiled, and Pip joined them again then. She was thrilled to have Matt visiting them, and when her mother left the room to get Matt a glass of wine, Pip whispered to him about the portrait of her he was doing.

  “How's it coming? Did you work on it this week?” She knew it was going to be the best present her mother had ever gotten, and she could hardly wait to see her face when she did.

  “I'm just getting started.” He smiled at his young friend. He hoped she wouldn't be disappointed in the end result, but he liked the work he had done on it so far. His own feelings for Pip made it easier to capture her, it was as much about her spirit and her soul as it was about the bright red hair and gentle brown eyes with the amber lights in them. He would have liked to paint a portrait of Ophélie too, although he hadn't done one of an adult in a long time. But he would have liked to try.

  Shortly before seven, they got up to leave and go to dinner, and as they reached the front door, Matt stopped in his tracks.

  “You forgot something,” he said, looking down at Pip, and she looked surprised.

  “We can't take Mousse to a restaurant,” she said in a serious voice. She was wearing a little black skirt and a red sweater, and she looked very grown-up. She had dressed carefully for him, and her mother had done her hair with a brand-new barrette. “We can only take Moussy to restaurants at the beach,” she explained.

  “I wasn't thinking of him, although I should have. We'll bring him a doggy bag. You didn't show me the Elmo and Grover slippers,” he said reproachfully, and Pip laughed.

  “Do you want to see them?” She looked pleased. He remembered everything she told him. He always did.

  “We're not leaving till I do,” he said firmly. He took a step back and crossed his arms, with an expectant look as Ophélie smiled at them both. And then he looked at her too.

  “I'm serious. Both of you. I want to see Elmo and Grover. I think you should model them for me.” He looked as though he meant it, and Pip ran up the stairs to get them, looking ecstatic. She returned a minute later with both pairs, and handed the Grover ones to her mother.

  Feeling silly, Ophélie put them on, as Pip put on hers, and they both stood there in the oversize fuzzy slippers as Matt smiled approval. “They're terrific. I love them. Now I'm really jealous. I want a pair too. Can't you find them in my size?”

  “I don't think so,” Pip said apologetically. “Mom said she could barely get a pair for her, and she has pretty small feet.”

  “I'm crushed,” he said, as they changed shoes again and he followed them out of the house, and down the steps to his car.

  They had a lovely time at dinner, chatting about assorted things. And it occurred to Ophélie again as she watched him with Pip, what a blow it must have been to him to lose contact with his kids. He was obviously a man who loved children, and had a way with them. He gave a lot of himself, was open and caring, and interested in everything Pip had to say. There was an irresistible warmth about him, and at the same time just the right amount of respectful reserve. Ophélie never felt pushed or crowded, or invaded by him. He approached just enough to be friendly, and never enough to be invasive. He was truly a kind man, and a wonderful friend for both of them.

  And when they got back to the house at nine-thirty, everyone was in great spirits. Matt had even remembered to ask for some scraps for the dog. And Pip went out to the kitchen to put them in his bowl.

  “You're too good to us, Matt,” Ophélie said quietly, as they sat down in the living room, and he lit a fire, just as he had done at the beach. Pip came back a few minutes later and Ophélie sent her to put on her pajamas, under mild protest. But she yawned as she objected, and Matt and Ophélie both laughed.

  “You deserve to have people be good to you, Ophélie,” Matt said sincerely, as he sat back on the couch next to her, having just declined her offer of a glass of wine. He was hardly drinking at all these days. He was having a lot of fun with Pip's portrait, and he really enjoyed coming into town to see them. He only seemed to drink more, he noticed, when he was lonely or depressed, and he was neither these days, thanks to them. “We all deserve good people in our lives,” he said to her, without greater motive than to enjoy her friendship. “Your house is beautiful,” he commented honestly, admiring the room they were sitting in, and the handsome antiques she had used to furnish it. It was a little formal for his taste, but not unlike the apartment he and Sally had had in New York. They had bought a duplex on Park Avenue, and one of the city's best decorators had done it for them, and Matt couldn't help wondering if a decorator had done Ophélie's house, or if she had done it herself. And after another glance around, he asked.

  “I'm flattered that you'd even ask.” She smiled at him gratefully. “I bought all of this myself over the last five years. I enjoy doing it. I love antiquing and decorating. It's fun, although this house is too big now for me and Pip. But I don't have the heart to sell it. We've loved it here, it seems a little sad with just the two of us. Eventually, I'll have to figure something out.”

  “You don't need to rush. I always felt we sold the apartment
in New York too fast. But there was no point in my keeping it after Sally and the kids left. We had some lovely stuff,” he said nostalgically.

  “Did you sell it?” Ophélie asked.

  “No. I gave it all to Sally, and she took it to Auckland. God knows what she did with it there, since she moved in with Hamish almost instantly. I didn't realize at that point that that was her plan, or that she'd move that fast. I thought she was going to get her own place, and check it out for a while. But she didn't lose any time. That's Sally. Once she makes up her mind, it's done.” It had made her a great business partner, but a lousy wife in the end. He would have greatly preferred the reverse. “It doesn't really matter.” He shrugged and looked surprisingly relaxed. “You can always replace things, not people. And I hardly need a houseful of antiques at the beach. I lead a very simple life, and that's all I want.” She knew from having seen his place briefly that that was true, but it still seemed sad to her anyway. He had lost so much. But she had to admit, in spite of everything, he appeared to be at peace, and fairly content. His life suited him, and his house was comfortable. He enjoyed his work. The only thing that appeared to be missing in his life was people, and he didn't seem to miss them either. He was a very solitary being. And now he had Pip and Ophélie, whenever he wanted to see them.

  He stayed until eleven, and then said he'd better leave. It got foggy on the road to the beach at night, and would take him a while to get back. But he assured her how much fun he'd had with them, he always did. And he stuck his head in Pip's door to say goodnight to her again, but she was sound asleep, with Mousse at the foot of her bed, and the Elmo slippers on the floor beside it.

  “You're a lucky woman,” he said with a warm smile, as he followed Ophélie down the stairs. “She is one great kid. I don't know how I got lucky enough to have her find me on the beach, but I'm glad she did.” He couldn't imagine what he'd do without her in his life anymore. She was like a gift from God, and Ophélie was the added bonus he had gotten with Pip.

  “We're lucky too, Matt. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She kissed him on both cheeks, and he smiled. It reminded him of the year he had spent in France as a student twenty-five years before.

  “Let me know when she has a soccer game. I'll come in again. Anytime, in fact. Just give me a call.”

  “We will.” She laughed. They both knew Pip would be on the phone to him by the next day, but Ophélie saw no harm in it. She needed a man in her life in some form, and Ophélie had no others to offer. Theirs was a relationship that suited all three of them, and served them well, even the adults.

  Ophélie watched him drive away in his old station wagon, closed the door, and turned off the lights. Pip had slept in her own bed that night, which was rare these days, and Ophélie lay in her too-big bed for a long time, in the dark, wide awake, thinking of the evening, and the man who had become Pip's friend, and then hers. She knew they were lucky to have him, but thinking of him somehow led to thoughts of Ted. The memories she had of him seemed so perfect in some ways, and so disturbing in others. There was a deep, silent dissonance there when old agonies crept into her head, and in spite of that, she still missed him unbearably, and wondered if she always would. Her life as a woman seemed to be over, and even her role as a mother would be short-lived. Chad was gone, and Pip would be off to her own life in a few years. She couldn't even imagine what her life would be like then, and hated to think of it. She would be alone, inevitably. And in spite of friends like Andrea, and now Matt, once Pip went off to college and a life of her own, any semblance of purpose and usefulness in her life would be over. The thought of it filled her with panic, and longing for Ted again. The only direction she seemed to be able to look on nights like that was backward, to a life that was now over, and looking ahead filled her with terror and dread. It was at moments like that, of deep soul-searching, that she understood all too well how Chad had felt. Only her responsibilities to Pip still kept her going, and from doing something truly foolish. But at times, in the dark of night, undeniably, the temptation was there. However wrong she knew it was, given her responsibilities to Pip, death would have been a sweet release.

  15

  THREE DAYS AFTER THEIR COZY DINNER WITH MATT, Ophélie had to face a challenge she had been dreading for a while. After four months of regular support and attendance, her grief group was about to end. They treated it as a “graduation,” and talked of “re-entry” into the world at one's own pace, and tried to give their last meeting a celebratory air. But the reality of losing each other and the support and intimacy they'd shared brought most of them to tears on the last day, and Ophélie as well.

  They hugged each other and promised to stay in touch, exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and each discussed their future plans. Mr. Feigenbaum was dating someone, a seventy-eight-year-old woman he had met while taking bridge lessons, and he was excited about her. And a few of the others had started dating, some had travel plans, one of the women had decided to sell her house, after agonizing endlessly, another woman had agreed to move in with her sister, and a man Ophélie didn't like much had finally made peace with his daughter after his wife's death, and after a family feud of nearly thirty years. But for the most part, they still had a long road to travel, and many adjustments to make.

  Ophélie's main accomplishment, visibly at least, was her volunteer job at the Wexler Center. Her attitude was better, the black hole she still fell into at times, that they all talked about and dreaded, was not quite as deep, and the dark periods not quite as long. But she knew, as they each did about their own lives, that her struggles to adjust to her losses were by no means over. They were just better than they had been, and she had acquired more effective tools to cope. It was all she could hope for, and in some ways seemed enough.

  But she felt overwhelmed with sadness, and a sense of loss again, as she said good-bye to Blake, and she looked grief-stricken when she picked Pip up at school.

  “What's wrong, Mom?” Pip looked frightened. She had seen that look too often before, and was always worried now that the robot would return again and replace her mom, as it had for nearly a year. She didn't want it back again. Pip had felt abandoned for ten months after her brother and father's deaths.

  “Nothing.” Ophélie felt foolish admitting it to her. “It's stupid, I guess. My group ended today. I'm going to miss it. Some of the people were nice, and even though I complained about it, I think it actually helped.”

  “Can you go back?” Pip was still concerned. She didn't like the way her mother looked. It was all too familiar to her. And she remembered when Chad had looked that way too. That glazed, dark, vague, nameless misery that seemed bottomless and left its victim paralyzed with lethargy, indifference, and grief. Pip wanted to do something to stop it before it took hold, but she didn't know what. She never did.

  “I can go to a different group, if I need to. But that one is gone.” She sounded hopeless as they drove home, and Pip felt panic take her in its grip.

  “Maybe you should.”

  “I'll be okay, Pip. I promise.” Her mother patted her arm, and they drove home in silence. And as soon as they got there, Pip slipped into the upstairs den that no one used anymore, and called Matt. It was raining that day, and he was working on her portrait, instead of painting on the beach. As winter advanced, he would do that less and less, but the weather was still pretty good, except for today.

  “She looks terrible,” Pip reported in a low voice, praying that her mother wouldn't pick up the phone elsewhere in the house. There was a privacy button she had hit, but she wasn't sure if it worked. “I'm scared, Matt,” she said honestly, and he was glad that she'd called. “Last year, I thought… she just…she didn't even get out of bed sometimes, or comb her hair… she never ate… she was awake all night… she wouldn't even talk to me …” Tears filled her eyes as she talked to him, and her words struck his heart like a blow. He was so sorry for them both.

  “Is she doing any of those things now?” he asked with
genuine concern. She had seemed all right to him the Saturday before, but you never knew. People could hide those things. Sometimes those most in despair kept it to themselves with dire results, and he didn't know if Ophélie was one of those. Pip would know better than he, despite her age.

  “Not yet,” Pip said, foreseeing doom everywhere. “But she looks really sad.” There were tears in her eyes as she said it.

  “She's probably a little scared to lose the support of the group. And saying good-bye is hard for her now. You've both lost a lot,” he said, feeling awkward about reminding her, but it was true, and she sounded so adult, he thought he could take certain liberties with her. On the phone just then, she sounded more parent than child. It was the kind of conversation he would have expected to have with Ophélie about Pip, instead of the reverse. She had grown up fast in the last year. The anniversary of her brother's and father's deaths was in a month. “I think you should keep an eye on her, but I think she's going to be okay. She seemed fine the other night, and the last few times I saw her at the beach. It's probably kind of an up-and-down thing, but she'll probably pull out of it soon. If she doesn't, I'll come and visit, and see what I think.” Not that there was really anything he could do. In the context of the relationship he had with them, it wasn't his role. But even as a friend, he might have been able to help, or at least to support Pip. She hadn't even had that the previous year, and was grateful to him now. More than he knew, or she could say.

  “Thanks, Matt,” she said, and meant it from the bottom of her heart. Just calling him and talking about it helped.

  “Call me tomorrow and tell me how it's going. And by the way, your portrait is looking pretty good,” he said modestly.