Keeping Faith

by Janice Macdonald

  “Proof, of course, that I was running around.”

  “Well, it didn’t exactly take a huge stretch of imagination.”

  “Apparently not.” He waited a moment. “If you thought I was running around, why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because…” She hesitated and shot him a glance as though to gauge his possible reaction. “It sounds crazy now, I know, but I was scared to have my suspicions confirmed. So I just kept them to myself.”

  “You thought I was running around, but you didn’t say anything because you thought I’d leave you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I’m sure the logic must be there somewhere, but I’ve got to say I don’t see it.”

  “I told you it seems crazy now, but I loved you. It was easier not knowing for sure.”

  Loved you.

  He’d hardly heard anything after that. A pulse throbbed in his temple. A grim need to get all the bad news over with made him push on. “Listen, Hannah,” he said as she pulled up to the curb outside Miranda’s house. “What would I need to do to make it work between us again?”

  She parked at the curb and turned in her seat to look at him. Waited a moment before she answered. “I don’t think it could ever work again, Liam,” she said softly.

  Her words seemed to hang there for a moment; the air in the car filled with them, echoing in his head. “And you’ve got all the reasons ready to trot out, I’m sure,” he finally said. “You don’t trust me. Our lives are too different. We have nothing in common. I’m always on the road.”

  “Are you arguing with that?” Hannah’s tone was incredulous. “Can you really see yourself in a suburban tract home, going to PTA meetings and washing the car on Saturdays?”

  “That’s only one version of life,” he said. “There are others.”

  “It’s pretty much my version though. It’s what I’ve always known. What I want for myself. What I think is best for raising my daughter.”

  “Our daughter.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What if I said I want to give that kind of life a try?”

  “I’d say you’d need to give it a lot more thought.”

  “I could give up the touring,” he said impulsively. “Get a job…I don’t know, teaching music, or something.”

  She slowly shook her head. “It’s not you, Liam. You’d never be happy. What about the band? What about Brid? The other musicians? You can’t just walk away. You said yourself that everything comes second to your music. What about the commitments you’ve made?”

  “Everything’s on hold for the next week while Brid’s in rehab.”

  “So fatherhood would be something to keep you occupied in the meantime?”

  Her words hit him like shards, puncturing the balloon of optimism he’d been trying to get off the ground. “Give me a break, Hannah, will you? I know to you this is a bloody joke—”

  “No, Liam, it’s not a joke to me.” Spots of color on her face now, Hannah’s anger matched his own. “It’s pretty damn serious. You’re telling me you want to be a father to Faith, you want us to have a relationship again. I don’t think it’s a joke at all. I’m not about to have my life, or Faith’s, turned upside down for something you decide on a whim.”

  “It’s more than a whim,” he said.

  “How do I know that?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. And then he said, “Give me a week. Starting tomorrow, a week to be with you and Faith. We’ll take her to school, do things together. Get to know each other. At the end of the week, we’ll see what happens. If you’re right and it turns out to be just a whim, I’ll be on my way and you won’t hear from me again. If it isn’t, we tell Faith who I am and take it from there.”

  “If you’re doing this to test whether there’s any possibility for us, Liam, I can tell you right now, you’re wasting your time. It’ll never work.”

  “A week. It’s not asking much.”

  She said nothing. They were sitting outside Miranda’s, the car windows open. The air seemed glittery and golden, the way it did in California; he could smell flowers, orange blossom maybe, although in Miranda’s neighborhood he hadn’t spotted many orange trees. It wouldn’t be a bad life. A house by the beach maybe—if he ignored all he’d heard about the price of homes in California. What he’d do for a living, what he’d do about the band and the commitments they had for the next year were matters he’d have to think about.

  His arm was over the back of the seat and he touched his fingers lightly to Hannah’s shoulder. Felt her skin, warm and smooth. They’d work something out. If she’d just believe in him, they’d work something out.

  “Okay, a week,” she finally said. “A week so that you can spend time with your daughter.”

  He grinned, almost light-headed with relief. “We’ll pick Faith up from school.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “But this is about Faith. A chance for you to get to know her. It’s not about us. Forget what happened this afternoon. There is no us.”

  “Right, Hannah, if you say so.”

  “I do.”

  AND JUST TO ELIMINATE any doubts about the “us” thing, Hannah went to dinner at Delmonico’s with Allan that night. Actually, Allan, along with Margaret, Rose, Deb, Helen, Faith and Douglas. Technically, it was Rose’s Mystery Casserole Tuesday, but Allan had managed to convince everyone to join him and Hannah for dinner instead. Allan was clearly family.

  They all sat around the window table eating bread sticks and drinking red wine while they waited for the food to arrive. In the middle of the adults, Douglas and Faith were coloring on paper placemats printed with outlines of Italy and pictures of pasta bowls to designate key cities.

  Allan had his arm across the back of Hannah’s seat. Every so often, his fingers brushed her shoulders. Just as Liam’s had. Five minutes after they’d sat down, Hannah was wishing she’d stayed home. Maybe she had told Liam there was no “us,” but she wanted to think about Liam making love to her. About Liam telling her he loved her. About Liam telling her he wanted to try again. She wanted to think about it, but more than that, she wanted to tell someone about it. To spill it all out, the excitement, the doubt and confusion, the fact that she absolutely couldn’t go more than five minutes without thinking about Liam.

  It’ll never work. That’s what she’d told him. So why did the need to see him again feel like a physical ache? She hurt to see him. Her chest, her stomach, her head. But it wouldn’t work. Wouldn’t, couldn’t, and yet a stubborn little spark of hope refused to be doused. Maybe, just maybe. God, she had to talk to someone. But who?

  “I think that would work, don’t you, Hannah?” Margaret asked.

  Hannah gave her mother a blank look.

  Allan squeezed her shoulder. “Daydreaming, kiddo?”

  Hannah gritted her teeth. Kiddo. Why was she here?

  “Allan was saying it would be fun if we all went out on his boat tomorrow night,” Margaret said. “If I pick up Faith from school, you can go straight to the boat when you get off work.”

  “Should we pack a picnic?” Helen asked Allan. “I have a wonderful chicken terrine recipe…”

  “No, don’t bother about it,” he said. “Tomorrow’s Wet Wednesday at the yacht club. They have a big barbecue after the race. The kids will love it.”

  “So, Allan?” Rose’s voice was elaborately casual. “Do you actually belong to the yacht club?”

  He smiled. “My family’s belonged for as long as I can remember. My father and grandfather, too. We’ve always enjoyed sailing.”

  “Big boat?” Rose wanted to know.

  Allan shrugged. “A fifty-foot Columbia.”

  “Wow,” Rose’s mouth and eyes opened wide. “That’s big, huh? Listen, is it okay if I bring Max?” She winked at Allan. “He’s my significant other.”

  “Significant other du jour,” Deb nudged her aunt.

  “Does anyone have an Excedrin?” Hannah asked.

  “Excedrin or Advil?”
Helen dug a bottle of each from her bag and set them on the table.

  Allan brought his mouth close to Hannah’s ear. “What you need is a back rub.”

  Hannah smiled. And gulped down two Excedrin with a glass of water. God, life would be so much easier if she could feel something for Allan. She wanted to feel something for Allan. If only because the man had the patience to sit through a dinner with her family. By now, Liam would be restless; shooting her looks intended to convey that if he didn’t leave in five minutes, the top of his head would explode. She entertained herself by imagining that she’d just announced her plans to bring Liam along on the little sailing trip.

  Liam, who had made love to her on the couch of a darkened tour bus that afternoon. Liam, who had told her he loved her. “I’ve always loved you,” he’d said. It’ll never work.

  “So let’s see how many people do we have coming?” Allan asked. He started around the table with Hannah. “You and Faith—”

  “I can’t make it,” Hannah said. “Neither can Faith.”

  All eyes turned to her, and she knew she’d made a strategic mistake.

  “Oh no.” Helen made a little mewl of disappointment. “What a pity.”

  “How come?” Rose asked.

  Margaret drank some wine and looked at her daughter. Hannah turned away.

  “But I want to go on a boat,” Faith said. “Why can’t I go?”

  “We’ll talk about it later, sweetie,” Hannah said. “I’ve already made other plans,” she told the others. “But you guys go, it sounds like fun.”

  “Can Douglas come on our other plans?” Faith asked.

  “So what other plans have you made?” Rose asked. “Sound mysterious.”

  Deb looked across the table at Hannah. “Liam?” she mouthed.

  “I want to go on the boat,” Faith wailed. “No fair, I don’t want to have other plans. I want to go on the boat.”

  “Somebody is getting a little cranky,” Margaret said. “Maybe Grandma needs to take you home.”

  “Faith.” Hannah addressed her daughter who was decimating a bread stick. “Put the bread down and wipe your hands.”

  “Where were you this afternoon, Hannah?” Helen asked as the waiter arrived, plates of steaming food held aloft on a large silver tray. “I wanted you to see this darling little outfit I got for Faith at Nordstrom’s. I brought it over to show you, but your mother said you were with Jen.”

  “The funny thing is I thought I saw Jen in Albertson’s,” Margaret said. “She was buying a pork roast. I remember thinking, that’s weird, I thought Jen didn’t eat meat. Anyway, it was just after four.”

  Hannah watched Rose sprinkle parmesan cheese on her linguini. Just after four. Around the same time she was making love to Liam. Maybe, she could tell Margaret. Maybe she could make her mother understand how confused and mixed-up she felt about Liam. Maybe she could describe to her mother how you just sort of go on with your life, not unhappy, but not really happy either, although you don’t do anything to change it. And then you fall in love and it seems selfish and irresponsible, but it makes you happy and you just want to go on being happy.

  Except that she wasn’t in love. She wasn’t in love.

  “You remind me of someone.” Rose eyed Allan through narrowed azure-blue lids that exactly matched the nylon jogging suit she wore. “That guy who used to play Marlo Thomas’s boyfriend on That Girl. What was his name?”

  “That Girl.” Debra hooted. “Jeez, Aunt Rose, how long ago was that?”

  “I don’t like this spaghetti, Mommy,” Faith said.

  “So why can’t you go sailing tomorrow?” As she glanced over at Hannah, Margaret splashed red wine on the sleeve of her white blouse. “Damn.” She dunked the corner of a napkin in her water glass and dabbed at the spot. “Can you change your plans, honey? I love it when both of my girls are together and we do things as a family. We don’t do that so much anymore.”

  “Mommy. I hate this spaghetti,” Faith said. “I want SpaghettiOs.”

  “What do you have that’s so important tomorrow, anyway?” Margaret asked Hannah.

  “Omigod,” Deb said. “You’ll never believe who just walked in.”

  “I HAVEN’T BEEN HERE for years,” Miranda Payton told Liam as he held open the door of Delmonico’s for her. “Frankly, I find the food a little old-fashioned, but it’s kind of fun in a quaint, old-world way.”

  Liam breathed in the aromas of tomato and garlic and glanced around the small foyer. A bench along one wall and half a dozen folding chairs were all packed with people, indicating a wait was likely. Miranda was undaunted. All peach-colored silk and flowing blond hair, she swept past tables of diners, trailing cigarette smoke and calling loudly for the manager. Heads swiveled in the booths lining the walls. A large party over by the window all turned as one.

  And then Liam saw Faith.

  She seemed to appear from nowhere, her hair tied up with red ribbons, bread crumbs around her mouth. She beamed broadly, clearly pleased to have spotted him.

  “I don’t like my spaghetti,” she told him. “If you want it, you can have it. Mommy’s got lasagna and my grandma has…I forget what she has, but I don’t like that, either. Can we go to the zoo again?”

  Liam grinned at his daughter, surprised by the sudden and sharp upward turn his mood had taken. He had a mad urge to lift her onto his shoulders and gallop around the restaurant proclaiming to everyone that this was his daughter.

  “Well, let’s talk about this a bit.” He caught her hand and led her to one side, out of the path of an oncoming waiter. He crouched so that they were eye-to-eye. Behind him, he heard Miranda complaining loudly about inferior service. And then her voice suddenly stopped and he sensed her putting two and two together. Faith was watching him, waiting for him to speak. “Tell me,” he said, trying to rally his thoughts, “what exactly is it you don’t like about spaghetti?”

  “I only like the kind that’s in little circles,” Faith said.

  Liam peered past Faith’s shoulder, trying to spot Hannah. “What about little squares?”

  “They don’t make little squares,” Faith said.

  “She’s talking about SpaghettiOs,” Miranda said. “God, revolting stuff. My mother’s housekeeper used to try to feed it to me.”

  Faith looked uncertain. “I like SpaghettiOs.”

  “So do I,” Liam said, having no idea what they were. “There’s nothing like SpaghettiOs. In fact, you know what I think we should do? I think we should go and find your mum and buy three hundred tins of SpaghettiOs and eat them until SpaghettiOs come out of our ears.”

  Faith giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. “They don’t come out of your ears.”

  “Well, they might if it was a really, really big bunch.” Liam pulled himself to his feet, and glanced over at Miranda. “I hate to leave you in the lurch, but I’m on a mission, all right?”

  Miranda’s face darkened. “For God’s sake, Liam.”

  He shot a look at her over Faith’s head, a look intended to convey that if she chose to make a scene about this, she’d be sorry. Then he addressed Faith.

  “Let’s go and talk to your mummy.”

  He took his daughter’s hand. It was soft, warm and sticky, just as it had been at the zoo on Sunday. Did all six-year-old girls have warm, sticky little hands? His own felt cold as Faith walked him over to the table where Hannah sat with her party of fifty. Or at least that’s how many seemed to be gawking up at him over their dinner plates and brimming wineglasses. Fifty, maybe a hundred. Not one of them looking happy to see him. His feet were also cold and his heart was doing overtime; pounding in rhythm with the pulsing beat of his right eyelid. Miranda, still in tow, was asked by a waiter to extinguish her cigarette. Her response was a pithy and anatomically impossible suggestion, clearly audible over the Puccini on the sound system. Liam tightened his grip on Faith’s hand and considered making a dash for it, yelling over his shoulder for Hannah to join them. A foot or so from the table
, he made eye contact with Hannah, who looked nervous and tense, hardly surprising really—he felt pretty nervous and tense himself. God, who were all these people with her? He recognized her mother. Margaret’s face was flushed, her expression strained. Sorry, Margaret, I know you told me to stay away from her, but I ended up making love to her instead. And there was the pirate’s dad. And the pirate, not in costume tonight, though. The pirate’s dad had his arm around Hannah’s shoulder. Liam pictured himself taking the pirate’s dad out. One quick blow to that chiseled jaw would do it.

  “And here’s Liam,” Faith said, drawing his name out like a sidekick on a television show announcing the big star. “He said we’re going to buy a whole big bunch of SpaghettiOs and eat them until they come out of our ears. Okay, Mommy? We can give my spaghetti to Raisin.” She looked up at Liam. “Raisin can’t come with me to our new apartment because you can’t have dogs there.”

  “Then we’ll have to look for a place where you can have a dog,” he said.

  Hannah shot him a look, whispered something to the pirate’s dad and eased her way out of the booth. Her face flushed, she nodded at the door, and he followed her, Faith’s hand still in his. A moment later, they were outside the restaurant. Tall, skinny palm trees in the center median waved their frondy top knots at the dark blue sky and the night air felt cool and damp. That was one thing that had always surprised him about California. Even the hottest days cooled off rapidly when the sun went down. Hannah was looking at him as though she expected an explanation.

  “The week isn’t supposed to start until tomorrow,” she finally said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LIAM SHRUGGED. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “Can we get SpaghettiOs?” Faith asked.

  “Faith doesn’t like the spaghetti at that place,” Liam said. “I told her we’d get the stuff she likes.”

  “Faith has a plate of untouched spaghetti inside the restaurant,” Hannah said. “Until she takes a bite, she really doesn’t know whether she likes it or not.”

  “But I don’t,” Faith wailed. “I only like SpaghettiOs.”