Colin Harrison - The Havana Room

It was a grave responsibility. I could give her those letters, either directly or through Cowles, whose whereabouts I knew. But in the end, I did not. She had not asked to be born to doomed parents, she had not asked to think that she might have been abandoned. It was enough already, I supposed, that she'd experienced her mother's death. We have a responsibility to be merciful, I think, to save not just a life but the best version of a life, if possible. I do not think that I can ever forgive myself for the death of young Wilson Doan, and all that resulted, but I believe that I decided rightly when I took Jay's letters and watched their torn little pieces float down the Hudson River, releasing his daughter from the life she did not need to have. If this damns me, then it will not be for the first time, but I trust it does not. I will never be at peace with myself- how could I? — but the sight of those letters floating along the water gave me some hope, some fleeting belief, that the past may leave our bodies as surely as we will leave the earth.

I thought that question was resolved. But then David Cowles called me, at my office.

"I have a few questions for you," he said. "It took me a long time to contact you. I had to go through the old Voodoo owners, then some man named Marceno, through his office."

"What can I do for you?"

"I can't seem to find Mr. Rainey, and-"

"He's dead," I said.

"Dead?"

"But let me try to answer your questions anyway."

An hour later, I climbed the stairs to Cowles's offices, wondering what he knew, what he wanted to know, what answers I'd provide him. He was waiting for me at the door, which he unlocked silently and locked again behind me. I followed him to his office. Sally was there.

"This is the man?" Cowles asked. "This man was there, too?"

She turned. For a moment she looked older, the woman she would become. "Yes." She nodded at Cowles. "He's the one who saved me."

He motioned for me to sit, which I did, with some apprehension.

"Naturally I want an explanation," said Cowles. "I want to know why my daughter was snatched on her way home from school and driven fifty blocks south." He drew a breath. "She's been terrorized. It took her three weeks to tell us. My wife and I were shocked. We are this close to calling the police. We see no reason not to bring the full fucking might of the law down on you, Wyeth!"

"Daddy, I wasn't gone that long. They brought me to you."

"You were taken!"

"It wasn't his fault, Daddy."

"I don't know that I believe that."

"Jay Rainey was not well," I began. "He had people after him."

"What does my daughter have to do with that?"

"He was-" I wanted to be careful. "He was unstable."

"What the hell did he think he could accomplish by kidnapping my daughter?" Cowles bellowed.

Oh pal, I thought, you should stop now.

"It's very hard for me to say what he was thinking."

"Sally," said Cowles. "I want you to leave my office so Mr. Wyeth and I can talk privately. But if you want to ask anything of Mr. Wyeth first, or tell him anything, then now is the time."

"Okay." She stood up. "I guess I want to know if it was dangerous to me. Being in the car, I mean. Was I in any real danger?"

"Yes." I nodded. "But how much I don't know."

"Why were you there?"

"I didn't want to be there."

"But why were you?"

"I was trying to get Jay Rainey out of the mess he was in."

"Did you?"

I waited for words to come to me.

"What happened, I mean?"

"He died, Sally." Your father died, I thought. You'll never know him now.

"That man? How?"

"Mr. Rainey had a breathing problem. He was ill."

"He was killed?"

"No. As I said, he had serious health problems."

"Was he a nice man?"

"He was a man who had been hurt," I answered. "He meant well."

"Did he want to hurt me?"

I looked at Cowles before I answered. "No. In no way did he wish to hurt you, Sally."

She heard this and something seemed to relax in her. "So it was more sort of a big mistake, kind of?"

I nodded. "A huge mistake, yes."

Sally shrugged. "Okay." She looked at Cowles. "Dad, I'm going to go check my e-mail, okay?"

"Sure, sure."

"Will you be long?" she asked.

"No, but why?"

"I was hoping we could go past the sports store on the way home."

"You got it," he said.

She left and Cowles closed the door and faced me, unable to contain his anger. "Which part of your sick story is bullshit?"

"What do you really want, Mr. Cowles?"

"I want to know why Rainey was obsessed with Sally."

"I'm not going to tell you."

"What?" He held his fists tight and I thought of Wilson Doan Sr., and how I'd been destroyed once already. "I can go to the fucking police, Wyeth. They'll-"

"I know. And then, unfortunately, I'd have to tell them."

"Unfortunately for you, you mean?"

I had an obligation here, an obligation to Wilson Doan and his wife, from whom I had taken a child, and I had an obligation to my son, whom I'd allowed to be taken from me, and I had an obligation to Jay Rainey, who, let it be remembered, never revealed himself to his daughter as her father, despite how painful it was for him not to do so. I also had an obligation to Cowles himself, and most importantly I had an obligation to Sally. I had an obligation to her because she was a child, still, and I was an adult, simple as that. My obligation to all of them and my obligation to myself was that I would never again be the agent that separated a child from a parent. Never, never again.

"Unfortunately for whom?" Cowles repeated angrily. "Who would be hurt if the truth got told?"

I looked at him and into him and stared down his fearful righteousness. He blinked several times, then looked away. "Those who love you very much," I finally said. "Those who need a loving father."

Cowles stopped at that. I don't think he quite understood. But he understood that he didn't understand. He knew he didn't need to know something. He slumped a bit, and sighed. "You're asking me to trust you," he said.

"I'm asking you to trust yourself. Trust in what you know."

He pondered this. Finally he nodded to himself.

"All right. My daughter seems okay. It helped her to ask those questions."

"It was wise of you to suggest that," I said.

He made a noncommittal humming noise. "I'm breaking my lease," he announced. "We're moving back to London."

"All right."

"Are you the executor of Rainey's estate?"

"I might be," I realized, "by default."

"You wouldn't be trying to enforce the lease."

"Of course not."

"You'll give me an address and number in case there are any further questions?"

"Yes."

"Let me just ask-"

"Sure."

"How long did you work for Mr. Rainey?"

"Just a few weeks."

"So you barely knew him."

"Barely."

"Did he have a wife?"

"No."

"No family?"

"No," I said. "He had absolutely no one."

He pondered this, his basic decency getting the better of him. "Bit of a sad story, then."

"Yes."

He stood and shook my hand. "I hope you understand I was scareda father gets, you know- protective when-"

"You don't have to apologize for that."

I followed him out. Sally was sitting at one of the office's computers, typing away. She noticed me leaving and stood. She had Jay's wide shoulders, the dark eyes, his long legs. But Cowles didn't see it. "Bye," she called politely.

"Bye."

The office door closed behind me and I never saw David or Sally Cowles again. But I lingered behind the door and listened.

"Daddy!"

"What?"

"It's boring here!"

"You want to go home?" Cowles asked her.

"You said we could go get the new hockey stick!"

"We will. Let me just pull together my papers, sweetie, won't be a minute."