Nelson DeMille - The Gate House

I took her by the shoulders and said, “I am leaving. But not until I put things in order here, for the children, which is what I should have done ten or twenty years ago-”

“No. John, please…”

“But I promise you, Susan… I promise that we will be together again.”

She looked at me, and tears were still running down her cheeks. She sobbed, then put her head on my shoulder and asked, “Do you promise…?”

“I do. Okay…” I moved her toward the door, and walked her out to the foyer. She turned and looked at me. I smiled and said, “Tell your father that your lawyer wants to speak to him.”

She didn’t smile, but she nodded, and I went back to the office and closed the door.

I stood there for a full minute, then sat at the desk.

I picked up a pencil and made a few notes about what I needed to cover with William. But my mind, and my heart, was not in it. Basically, I was going to negotiate a deal with him that ensured that Susan and I would never see each other again.

It was possible, I suppose, that William would reject the idea of giving up control of his money, and thus of his daughter – because what was he getting out of the deal? Certainly not Susan’s love and companionship, or the love of his grandchildren. All he was getting out of this deal was the guarantee that John and Susan Sutter would never again see each other, and I wondered if that was enough for him. Well, I guess that depended on how honest he was about his motives for ending this engagement. Did he and Charlotte really believe that Susan was making a terrible mistake? Or was this really about William’s hate for me?

Surely William realized that if he accepted this deal, then he’d not only be rid of me but also lose his daughter and his grandchildren as soon as they were financially independent. Basically, I’d turned this back on him, and put him in a no-win situation. And yet he might go for it if he were more consumed with hate for me than love for Susan, Edward, and Carolyn. I was sure, too, that Peter would pressure his father into taking the deal if it meant that Peter, too, would get his inheritance now. Then Peter could also tell Daddy to go fuck himself.

The door opened, and Susan stepped into the office. I stood and we faced each other. She said to me, “My father totally rejects your suggestion.”

“All right.” That answered at least one question.

She seemed drained, I thought, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so lost and defeated by any situation.

She looked away from me and said, “But… his offer to you stands if you will accept it now, and get on the flight to London tomorrow… alone.”

“All right.” I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so I guess I had my answer to another question. And really, I didn’t blame her. Love, unfortunately, does not conquer all. Or, to be more kind, Susan’s love for her children – our children – overrode her love for me. And I felt the same way. Whoever said that children were hostages to fortune must have had a father-in-law like William Stanhope.

I wanted to tell Susan that without any legal guarantees for herself and the children, her father would and could do whatever he wanted with his money, including turning everything over to Peter. But that would sound self-serving, like I was trying to convince her that my leaving did not necessarily guarantee her, or the children, a financially secure life; it guaranteed her that William would continue to control her life, and probably pick her next husband for her. Maybe William wanted her to marry dead Dan’s son, Bob.

On that subject, I asked her, “What did he offer you ?”

She hesitated, then said, truthfully, “A large increase in my allowance if I sold this house and moved back to Hilton Head.”

“I see.” Well, the reign of William the Dominator continues. As I said, I didn’t blame Susan, and I believed that if it was only our lives to consider, then she’d throw her parents out the door. I did not, and would not in the future, think any less of her for making this hard decision. I had already made the same decision. I said to her, “Tell him I’m leaving tomorrow. And tell him, too, that he can take his bribe and shove it up his ass.”

Susan just stood there, then dropped her eyes and said, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. This is our decision, not just yours.” I said, “Better yet, send him in here and I’ll tell him myself.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t want to see you… he just wants your answer.”

“My answer is I’ll leave tomorrow if he comes into this office now.”

“I’ll tell him.” She looked at me and said, “I love you.”

“I know you do.”

“Do you love me?”

“I do.” But I can’t.

She nodded again and said, “We had this time together… and I will never forget this week.”

“Neither will I.” I suggested, “You need to get on a plane to somewhere tomorrow and get out of here until things settle down.”

“I know… they want me to come to Hilton Head. But…” She asked me, “What am I going to do without you?”

“You’ll do fine.” I reminded her, “I’ll be here waiting for your father.”

She took a step toward me, but I said, “Take care of this.”

She looked hurt, and she looked so lost. I wanted to take her into my arms, and I would, but not until they were gone.

She stood motionless, then nodded and left.

I stared at the door, hoping she’d turn around and come back, and we’d both go into the living room and throw the Stanhopes out of the house. Our house. I also hoped that she wouldn’t make that decision.

I felt… a lot of things. Anger, for sure. But mostly I felt that sense of loss that I remembered from ten years ago; that understanding that it was over, and worse, that it should not be this way – that there was too much love between us that was being thrown aside for reasons that might not be good enough to justify the decision to part. And I felt, too, there was something wrong here… that Susan had been right and that Fate had brought us together again. So how was this happening?

I remained standing, staring at the door.

The only comfort I could take in this was that Susan, and Edward and Carolyn, could now see William Stanhope for what he was – and that knowledge would do them more good over the years than his money. The other thing that was comforting was my sure belief that William understood that I was waiting in the wings, and that I would reappear if he didn’t follow through on his promise to at least maintain the status quo. And surely the bastard would be happy to hear that I didn’t want his money; but somewhere in his dim brain he’d eventually understand that I didn’t owe him anything either, and that I was a six-hour plane ride away, and free to return if he didn’t take care of my children.

I thought about tomorrow – about getting on the flight, alone, and returning to London. Probably, I could get my job back, if I wanted it, and Samantha, too, if I wanted her. But really what I wanted to do was to find a yacht owner who needed an experienced skipper for a long sail. That, I knew from the last time, would remove the temptation – my and Susan’s – to make a bad decision based on love.

I heard a car pulling up and looked out the window. Elizabeth’s SUV came to a stop, and she got out.

I went to the front door and opened it before she rang the bell.

She smiled and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Come in.”

“Just for a moment.” She let me know, “I got your e-mail.”

We entered the house, and I showed her into the office and closed the door.

She looked around, noted Susan’s oil paintings on the wall, and commented, “Susan is very talented.”