Danielle Steel - Safe Harbour

“You're looking very serious,” he said, as he sat down next to her and took a sip of the wine she had poured him. It was the last of the bottle he had brought her. She wasn't much of a drinker, particularly for a French woman.

“I was just thinking how much better I feel than I did when I got here. It's done us both good. Pip seems happier too. In great part, thanks to you. You've made her summer.” She smiled gratefully at him.

“She's made mine too. And so have you. We all need friends. Sometimes I forget that.”

“You lead a solitary life out here, Matt,” she said, and he nodded. For the past ten years it had been what he wanted. But now, for the first time in years, it seemed lonely to him.

“It's good for my work, or something like that. At least that's what I tell myself. And it's close enough to the city. I can always go in if I want to.” And he would now, to see them, but he was startled to realize that, in spite of its proximity, it was over a year since he'd been there. The time just slipped away sometimes, while you weren't looking, as did the years.

“I hope you'll come and see us often. In spite of my cooking,” she laughed.

“I'll take you out to dinner,” he teased her, but he meant it. He was enjoying the prospect. It was something to look forward to and soften the blow of their leaving, which he knew would hit him like a sledgehammer the next morning. “What are you going to do with yourself when Pip goes back to school?” he asked, looking concerned about her. He knew it would be lonely for her. She wasn't used to having as much time on her hands as she did now with only Pip to care for. She was used to having two children, and a husband.

“I may take your advice and look into some volunteer work at a homeless shelter.” She had fun reading the material Blake Thompson, the leader of the group, had given her. It seemed interesting and appealed to her.

“That would be good for you. And you can always come out here and have lunch with me, if you have nothing else to do. It's pretty here in the winter.” She liked it too. She loved the beach at all times of the year, and it was an appealing invitation. She liked the idea of maintaining their friendship. And whatever Andrea thought of it, it suited both of them, and was what they wanted.

“I'd like that.” Ophélie smiled at him.

“Are you happy to be going back?” he asked, and she stared into the fire and looked pensive, thinking about it.

“No, I'm not. I hate going back to the house, although until now, I've always liked it. But it's so empty now. It's too big for the two of us, but it's familiar. I didn't want to make any hasty decisions last year that I'd regret later.” She didn't tell him that their bedroom closets were still full of Ted's clothes, and all of Chad's things were in his bedroom. She had touched nothing, and knowing that they were there depressed her. But she couldn't bring herself to part with them. Andrea had already told her it was unhealthy, but for now at least, it was what Ophélie wanted. She wasn't ready to make changes, or she hadn't been. She wondered if she'd feel differently now, after the summer. She didn't know yet.

“I think you were smart not to do anything too quickly. You can always sell the house, if you really want to. It's probably good for Pip not to have the trauma of moving. That would be a big change for her, if you've lived there for a long time.”

“Since she was six, and she loves it. More than I do.”

They sat quietly then for a while, enjoying each other's company, even in silence. And when he finished his wine, he stood up, and she joined him. By then, the fire was slowly dying.

“I'll call you next week,” he said, and it reassured her. He was a solid, reliable male presence in her life, like a brother. “Call if you need anything, or if there's anything I can do for you or Pip.” He knew he'd worry about them.

“Thank you, Matt,” she said gently. “For everything. You've been a wonderful friend, to both of us.”

“I intend to stay that way,” he said, and put an arm around her as she walked him to his car.

“So do we. Take care of yourself. Don't be too lonely out here, it's not good for you. Come to see us in the city, it will distract you.” Now that she knew more about his life, she could imagine how alone he must feel at times, just as she did. So many people they had loved and cared about had left their lives, through death and divorce, and circumstances that neither of them had wanted. The tides of life that swept away people and places and cherished moments all too quickly, just as the ocean had swept away the boy they'd saved only days before.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, not knowing what else to say to her. He waved as he drove away, and watched her walk back into the house, and then he drove back to his bungalow down the beach, wishing that he were braver, and that life were different than it was.

12

“GOOD-BYE, HOUSE,” PIP SAID SOLEMNLY AS THEY LEFT it. Ophélie locked the door, and dropped the keys in the mail slot at the realtor's on the way out. The summer was over. And as they drove past the narrow winding street that Matt lived on, Pip was strangely silent. She didn't speak until they were on the bridge, and then she turned to her mother. “Why don't you like him?” she said almost angrily. Her tone was an accusation. Ophélie had no idea who she was talking about.

“Like who?”

“Matt. I think he likes you.” Pip was glaring at her, and totally confusing her mother.

“I like him too. What are you talking about?”

“I mean like a man… you know… like a boyfriend.”

They were nearly at the tollbooth, and Ophélie was fumbling for her money, and then glanced at her daughter. “I don't want a boyfriend. I'm a married woman,” she said firmly, as she found the money.

“No, you're not. You're a widow.”

“That's the same thing. Nearly. Whatever brought this on? And no, I don't think he likes me ‘as a girlfriend.’ And if he did, it wouldn't make a difference. He's our friend, Pip. Let's not spoil that.”

“Why would it spoil it?” She sounded stubborn. She had been thinking about it all morning. And she already missed him.

“It just would. Trust me. I'm a grown-up. I know. If we got involved, someone would get hurt or upset about something, and then it would be all over.”

“Does someone always get hurt?” Pip looked disappointed. This was not encouraging information.

“Almost always. And then you don't like each other anymore, and you don't get to stay friends. And he wouldn't see you. Think how sad that would be.” Ophélie was very definite in her opinion on the subject.

“What if you got married? Then none of that would happen.”

“I don't want to get married again. And neither does he. He got very badly hurt when his wife left him.”

“Did he tell you that? About not wanting to get married again?” Pip sounded suspicious. It didn't sound likely to her.

“More or less. We talked about his marriage and divorce. It sounded very traumatic.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?” She looked suddenly hopeful.

“Of course not. Don't be silly.” It was a ridiculous conversation, from Ophélie's perspective.

“Then how do you know that's how he feels?”

“I just know it. Besides, I don't want to get remarried. I still feel married to your father.” It sounded noble to her, but it made Pip angry, which surprised her mother.

“Well, he's dead, and he's not coming back. I think you should marry Matt, and then we could keep him.”

“He may not want to be ‘kept,’ never mind how I feel. Why don't you marry him? I think he would suit you.” She was teasing her, in order to end the awkward moment. She didn't like being told that Ted was dead and never coming back. It was all she thought about, and had for the last eleven months. It was hard to believe it was almost a year now. In some ways it felt like forever, in others like only minutes.