The Comfort of Lies: A Novel

by Randy Susan Meyers

  “Savannah?” Nathan’s voice rose in confusion. “I had no responsibility for that. I didn’t want Tia to be pregnant—Jesus that was the last thing I wanted. Honestly, I think she wanted to use it to get me to come to her. Leave you. And, of course, I wouldn’t.”

  “You stayed with me. But you didn’t trust me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Juliette struggled to sit upright. She crossed her legs and pressed her fists into her knees, trying not to cry. “You denied your baby, your child. What in the world makes a man deny his child?”

  “It was about you, Jules! You and the boys—I couldn’t lose you.”

  “See, that’s the second thing. You should have trusted me, Nathan. You should have told me. Maybe if you’d been honest, we would have had a chance.”

  Nathan remained quiet for a long time. The faint light from the bedside lamp cast shadows that hinted at Nathan at fifty, sixty, and older.

  “Don’t let go of us,” he begged. “I know you’re disappointed in me. I feel the same way. Please. Give us a chance.”

  Juliette rolled away from Nathan, needing not to see him. She knew he wanted to make things right, and she knew Lucas and Max needed their father home.

  Her mother, her father, everyone pushed Juliette to take back Nathan.

  It was wrong to make decisions because of that pressure, right?

  But making her family happy would make her happy. Wasn’t that worth it?

  Could she forgive him?

  Gandhi said that forgiveness was the attribute of the strong. She just didn’t know if she had that sort of strength.

  CHAPTER 33

  Caroline

  “Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” Savannah jumped on the bed, managing somehow to land right between Caroline and Peter. Caroline wondered why she’d not noticed until recently that Savannah moved with tremendous grace.

  Savannah leaned over Peter and gave him a loud, smacking kiss. “Ick, you’re scratchy, Daddy.”

  “Think so?” Peter asked. He rubbed his cheek along Savannah’s arm. “As scratchy as Mommy’s nail file?”

  “Worse than the sandpaper in Pat the Bunny.” Savannah turned and stroked Caroline’s face. “Mommy’s soft.”

  “How about for Father’s Day, I get to go back to sleep?” Peter asked.

  Caroline pulled down Savannah, hoping that they might all sleep for another five minutes or so. “Snuggle time?”

  Savannah became still, hands at her sides, obviously trying to please her parents despite her impatience to get up. “Aren’t we going to bring Daddy breakfast in bed?” she whispered. “Like we did for you on Mother’s Day?”

  Caroline rolled over to face Savannah. “Maybe we should do something else, pumpkin. Maybe we can take Daddy out for breakfast.”

  “But it’s Father’s Day,” Savannah spoke without the whine one might expect of a five-year-old asked to put aside tradition. Kids liked things to be conventional. Once again, Caroline feared that Savannah was too good.

  “I know,” Caroline said. “They have special breakfasts for fathers at restaurants.”

  “But we’re supposed to cook for him.”

  Where did she get these rigid conventions of family? The Disney Channel?

  Peter dug deeper into his pillow.

  Cooking a big breakfast sounded horrendous. “Okay, honey. In a second,” she said.

  Savannah wiggled closer to Caroline, grabbing a corner of the blanket and wrapping it around her fist. “Mommy?”

  Caroline heard the tinkle of fear she so disliked. The sound reminded Caroline of her own failing, rarely bold enough to say what she thought or felt. “What is it, honey?”

  “What do you think the other daddy is doing today?”

  Caroline evaluated all the possible responses and then chose honesty.

  “I would guess that he is with his sons, pumpkin.” She and Peter had told Savannah about Nathan’s family with as much candor as they thought she could bear. It hadn’t been easy, but burying things only made it worse in the end.

  “His real children.” Savannah stated this as an absolute fact, and though Caroline would have liked to contradict her, she couldn’t find any words that could be twisted into a palatable truth. Finally, she simply hugged her girl as hard as she could.

  “Daddy and I love you so much.”

  Really, was there anything else to say?

  • • •

  After eating French toast eggs, they showered and dressed for a visit to Peter’s parents. During the ride, they kept their magical feeling of just us three. Then Peter parked the car, and Caroline tensed.

  “I’m not looking forward to this,” she said.

  “Don’t worry,” Peter said. “I’ll handle them.”

  “Handle what, Daddy?” Savannah asked from the backseat.

  “Grandma and Grandpa. Sometimes they think what Mommy and I do is silly.”

  “Like what?”

  Like what we’re about to do. Caroline laced her fingers and squeezed.

  “Well, like having pancakes for supper. You know how we do that sometimes? Grandma and Grandpa think pancakes are only for breakfast.” Peter opened the car door and then stuck his head back in after he got out. “I think we should all take a day off—from work, from Nanny Rose, from everything—next week and go to the beach. We should buy kites and fly them as high as the clouds. Now, that would be silly, huh?”

  Savannah’s eyes opened wider than Caroline had ever seen. “Oh, Daddy, could we?” she asked in a reverential tone.

  “Why not?” Peter said.

  “Mommy? Does Daddy mean it?”

  “He does, baby. He’s pretty flexible, this daddy of ours.” Caroline sat back, waiting for Savannah to ask what flexible meant. Caroline looked forward to forming an explanation for her daughter. She was pretty good at that.

  • • •

  “Anyway, I know this all seems sudden, but we want to be settled in a new place before school starts.”

  Peter’s words sort of melted away as he watched his mother. If Caroline had thought about it longer, she’d never have let her own enthusiasm get in the way of the obvious fact that her mother-in-law would flip out when she heard about their plans. Talking about their decisions like this, with Savannah and the rest of the family at the table, was a huge error.

  “Are you finished?” Her mother-in-law, who’d been listening with her lips set in pruney disapproval, finally let loose. “Are you nuts? Because this will finish you. Wave good-bye to your company, Peter.” Caroline shrank back as Peter’s mother slammed a cherry pie on the table. It was her father-in-law’s favorite, which Peter’s mother made every Father’s Day.

  “You’ve both lost your minds,” her mother-in-law continued ranting even as she turned back to the sideboard and grabbed a tall stack of dessert plates. The Sunday roast had been devoured by Peter’s tribe of sisters, brothers, in-laws, nieces, and nephews. All the leaves had been put in the long mahogany dining table, and then a card table was added to either end. Peter and Caroline sat with Savannah wedged between them.

  Irene Fitzgerald smacked a gold-rimmed plate in front of Caroline. “I suppose this is all your doing, right?”

  “Irene, calm yourself down,” Peter’s father said in an ineffectual attempt to quiet his wife.

  “Too good to take care of her own child,” Peter’s mother muttered, ignoring Peter’s father.

  “Mommy takes care of me, Grandma.” Savannah reached for Caroline’s hand under the table and squeezed. “Right, Mommy?”

  Caroline nodded. “Right, baby.”

  Savannah looked at Peter. “And Nanny Rose just helps us, right?”

  “Nannies!” Peter’s mother practically spit out the word. “Normal people would be quite satisfied with a babysitter.”

  “Stop,” Peter said to his mother, infusing the word with a deadly force that Caroline recognized well. Then he turned to Savannah. “Nanny Rose has helped us an awful lot since you were a baby.
But soon we won’t need her as much. You’ll be in school, and then I’ll pick you up or you’ll go to an after-school program. Nanny Rose is going to take care of someone else’s little baby, and you and I will hang out together more. Sound good?”

  “Oh, I’d love that.” She peeked at Caroline. “Right, Mommy?”

  “Yes. You will. And maybe this summer, after we find our new house, you’ll meet some of the girls who will be in your kindergarten class.”

  “And where will this be? Jamaica Plain? Dorchester?” Peter’s mother named Boston neighborhoods as though Caroline and Peter planned to send their child to school in a war-torn village where she’d be dodging bullets.

  “We’re looking at fine areas, Mom,” Peter said.

  “You live in a fine area now. The finest. How can you take this opportunity away from your daughter? You worked so hard.” She sniffed in Caroline’s direction. “Look at you, giving up everything.”

  “Caroline and I have the best interests of our family first and foremost.” Peter placed a protective hand over Caroline’s wrist. With a smile that Caroline knew was meant to calm Savannah, while also telling his mother he meant business, he said, “Now sit down and join us for this great pie, before we force-feed you a blood pressure pill.”

  His mother probably sensed that Peter really meant “Stop, or we’ll march right out of here.” Caroline closed her eyes momentarily in gratitude. Standing up to his mother was difficult for Peter. He loved being the big success in the family; the one who gave his mother bragging rights in the neighborhood, at church, in the supermarket. She rarely passed up an opportunity to talk about Peter’s business triumphs, and he basked in his mother’s pride.

  And here was Caroline, taking it all away.

  Everything in their lives was about to change. Peter planned to reduce his hours in the business and hire a manager. They’d live on less money until Savannah was older and he could get fully back in the game.

  Their gleaming white home? “Sell it,” Peter had said. “I want you and Savannah far more than I want acreage.”

  Their cars? “Trade them in. Corollas get you there just the same.”

  Peter’s mother shook her head in disgust. “Such a waste. You built up a wonderful business, and now you’re going to let it disappear? Why are you being such fools?”

  “Ma, let it go,” Joe Junior, the oldest brother, said. “Who the hell cares if they sell their goddamn house or he wears a damned apron?”

  Joe was the quiet one, but when a door needed closing, he’d eventually shut it.

  “Joe!” his mother exclaimed.

  “Excuse me, Ma,” Joe said. “Who the heck cares if they sell their house? It’s too big for three people anyway. All it’s good for is showing off their bank balance.”

  Joe’s teenage daughter Heather yelled from the other end of the table, “I’ll take it!”

  “Your house is just fine, miss,” her grandmother said. “Your father provides every single thing you need.”

  “I wasn’t saying anything, Grandma.”

  “Just make sure you don’t. I won’t have any showing off in this house.”

  “You’re not even making sense, Ma,” Faith said. “First you get upset because Peter and Caroline are selling their house, and then you tell Heather not to want it.”

  With shaky fingers, Caroline plopped a scoop of ice cream on top of the slice of pie in front of Savannah. Then she topped her own.

  “You’re missing the point,” Peter’s mother said. “They already have it. Why give it away?”

  “Christ, Mom. We’re not giving it away. We’re selling it,” Peter said.

  “Who does something so crazy?” She slammed her hands on her hips. “Your father and I struggled to give you kids everything we could, so you could end up with more than we had. How can you go backward like this? Why don’t you just move to the exact street in Dorchester where I grew up? Would that make you happy? Maybe you can rent that same garbage apartment.”

  “You have to stop this craziness,” Sissy said.

  Caroline tensed, wondering what fresh hell Peter’s sister would inject in the conversation.

  “Exactly,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald. “It’s all craziness.”

  “No, Ma,” Sissy said. “You’re exactly wrong. You’re the one who’s wrong. Money isn’t everything in the world, you know.”

  “I never said it was.” Mrs. Fitzgerald fussed with straightening napkins on the buffet.

  “You kind of did, Reenie,” Peter’s father said.

  “I only want the best for my children,” she said. “More than I had for myself—that’s what I want for you.”

  “And we appreciate that, Ma.” Peter put an arm around Caroline. “But Caroline and I, we also want to give Savannah the best. Ma, you did a great job. I want to do as well. I never want Savannah to starve for anything, including our company. One of us has to work a little less, and I chose to be the one.”

  Peter’s mother put her hands to her face, covering her mouth for a moment. She blinked her eyes. “Fine, fine. You’ll do what you want anyway.”

  Peter’s father patted the empty seat to his right. “Let’s give it a rest, okay? Everyone at the table is healthy, no one is starving, and everyone has a job. So, there’s nothing to be upset about, right? We’ll get enough trouble when we’re not looking.”

  Mrs. Fitzgerald threw her arms in the air. “I give up. Let’s eat.” She sat to the right of her husband and picked up her fork, waving it at Caroline before digging it into her dessert. “You better discover a cure for eye cancer for this sacrifice from Peter.”

  “Absolutely, Mom,” Caroline agreed. “I’m on it.”

  Caroline smiled at her mother-in-law. She took a large bite of pie, enjoying the sweet and creamy mix in her mouth. She turned to Savannah and hugged her close, closing her eyes and breathing in her smell of baby shampoo mixed with Caroline’s vanilla-tinged powder. Her girl was beginning to raid Caroline’s things.

  Savannah’s first five years weren’t splendid. Caroline knew that. And she knew she held much of the blame—not all, but much. Now it was on her to figure out how to change things.

  CHAPTER 34

  Tia

  Sister Patrice’s patience awed Tia.

  Scorching August heat—barely overcome by the church’s ancient air conditioner—addled clients pulling at her arm each time she passed, bathrooms needing cleaning ten times in a day, none of it rattled her. Sister managed to find the good in everyone—even Ed Parker, who attempted to pick up the skirt of every woman who passed. “At least he still has a spark,” Sister Patrice would say repeatedly, usually after putting a plate of cookies in front of him to keep his hands busy. Ed refused to wear his teeth, so eating took him a good, long time.

  The goodness of her new boss soothed Tia through the days of knowing that she was at the wrong job. In her month working at Merciful Sisters, Tia had learned this about herself: working with the elderly suffering from early dementia was a job for the serene or the jolly. Tia fit neither category.

  At Merciful Sisters, Tia was available every moment. The staff had fifteen minutes to set up before the clients arrived and fifteen minutes to clean after they left. The other seven and a half hours were devoted to entertaining the elderly men and women for whom this church basement was everything.

  Merciful Sisters was a good place. Compared to some senior facilities, it was paradise on earth. Sister Harmony’s biscuits were so delicious that Tia swore she was developing the first potbelly of her life.

  Father Gerard came in from the rectory with a different leather-bound classic each week. They’d sit in a joyful circle of ideas—that’s what he called the reading hour—and listen as he read in his rough brogue. This week it was Ivanhoe.

  They had painting class, and they adopted soldiers, and sang, and took trips to shows. Last week Tia had a shaky elderly woman on each side, holding tight as she led them down the aisle of the Colonial Theatre to see a revival of G
uys and Dolls.

  Tia hated it all. The day-in, day-out cheerful care wasn’t in her. She knew this was a wonderful place, but she could barely make it through her days, and she was frightened of her future. Perhaps she needed to buck up and accept that this was her life.

  “Here you go.” Sister Harmony handed her a platter of meringues. “A special treat. Pass them out, dear.”

  Tia took the plate. That morning, Sister Harmony had explained how she’d been waiting for a dry day to make these meringues—angel kisses, she called them. Apparently, humidity made angel kisses weep.

  Her clients made Tia weep these days. She wanted to enjoy spending time with them; she hated having to put on a face. They deserved more than cookies, and Tia realized she wanted to find ways to work on that. Maybe going back to school. Maybe teaching.

  She gave Ed plenty of distance as she held out the plate to him. “Only two, Ed,” she warned. “These are for everyone.”

  “Make sure he doesn’t cheat,” Alice Gomez said. “He thinks everything’s for him. I don’t know why Sister rewards him for being bad.”

  Tia patted Alice’s arm as she held the platter far from Ed. “Tell you what: I’ll take you for a treat tomorrow. Just me and you.” She bent down to whisper in Alice’s ear. “We’ll get ice cream.”

  Alice beamed, her dentures hanging a bit low. Tia needed to take Alice to the ladies’ room.

  If Tia had felt tired at the JP Senior Advocate Center, here she’d begun dying of sadness. She wondered if God was making her do penance for her life, for giving away Savannah, for sleeping with and then pining for Nathan. For how she’d failed the Grahams. The idea of fighting God terrified her.

  “Brain games in fifteen minutes, folks!” Sister Patrice called. She held up a large box printed with bright blue outlines of lively seniors shouting.

  “Ooh, look!” Alice Gomez grinned. “Tia, your boyfriend is here,” she said in singsong fashion.

  Bobby beamed as he bounded down the stairs. They loved him.

  “Mrs. Gomez.” Bobby gave the frail old woman a squeeze around the shoulders. “You look lovely as always.”