Danielle Steel - Safe Harbour

And when they got back to the house at nine-thirty, everyone was in great spirits. Matt had even remembered to ask for some scraps for the dog. And Pip went out to the kitchen to put them in his bowl.

“You're too good to us, Matt,” Ophélie said quietly, as they sat down in the living room, and he lit a fire, just as he had done at the beach. Pip came back a few minutes later and Ophélie sent her to put on her pajamas, under mild protest. But she yawned as she objected, and Matt and Ophélie both laughed.

“You deserve to have people be good to you, Ophélie,” Matt said sincerely, as he sat back on the couch next to her, having just declined her offer of a glass of wine. He was hardly drinking at all these days. He was having a lot of fun with Pip's portrait, and he really enjoyed coming into town to see them. He only seemed to drink more, he noticed, when he was lonely or depressed, and he was neither these days, thanks to them. “We all deserve good people in our lives,” he said to her, without greater motive than to enjoy her friendship. “Your house is beautiful,” he commented honestly, admiring the room they were sitting in, and the handsome antiques she had used to furnish it. It was a little formal for his taste, but not unlike the apartment he and Sally had had in New York. They had bought a duplex on Park Avenue, and one of the city's best decorators had done it for them, and Matt couldn't help wondering if a decorator had done Ophélie's house, or if she had done it herself. And after another glance around, he asked.

“I'm flattered that you'd even ask.” She smiled at him gratefully. “I bought all of this myself over the last five years. I enjoy doing it. I love antiquing and decorating. It's fun, although this house is too big now for me and Pip. But I don't have the heart to sell it. We've loved it here, it seems a little sad with just the two of us. Eventually, I'll have to figure something out.”

“You don't need to rush. I always felt we sold the apartment in New York too fast. But there was no point in my keeping it after Sally and the kids left. We had some lovely stuff,” he said nostalgically.

“Did you sell it?” Ophélie asked.

“No. I gave it all to Sally, and she took it to Auckland. God knows what she did with it there, since she moved in with Hamish almost instantly. I didn't realize at that point that that was her plan, or that she'd move that fast. I thought she was going to get her own place, and check it out for a while. But she didn't lose any time. That's Sally. Once she makes up her mind, it's done.” It had made her a great business partner, but a lousy wife in the end. He would have greatly preferred the reverse. “It doesn't really matter.” He shrugged and looked surprisingly relaxed. “You can always replace things, not people. And I hardly need a houseful of antiques at the beach. I lead a very simple life, and that's all I want.” She knew from having seen his place briefly that that was true, but it still seemed sad to her anyway. He had lost so much. But she had to admit, in spite of everything, he appeared to be at peace, and fairly content. His life suited him, and his house was comfortable. He enjoyed his work. The only thing that appeared to be missing in his life was people, and he didn't seem to miss them either. He was a very solitary being. And now he had Pip and Ophélie, whenever he wanted to see them.

He stayed until eleven, and then said he'd better leave. It got foggy on the road to the beach at night, and would take him a while to get back. But he assured her how much fun he'd had with them, he always did. And he stuck his head in Pip's door to say goodnight to her again, but she was sound asleep, with Mousse at the foot of her bed, and the Elmo slippers on the floor beside it.

“You're a lucky woman,” he said with a warm smile, as he followed Ophélie down the stairs. “She is one great kid. I don't know how I got lucky enough to have her find me on the beach, but I'm glad she did.” He couldn't imagine what he'd do without her in his life anymore. She was like a gift from God, and Ophélie was the added bonus he had gotten with Pip.

“We're lucky too, Matt. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She kissed him on both cheeks, and he smiled. It reminded him of the year he had spent in France as a student twenty-five years before.

“Let me know when she has a soccer game. I'll come in again. Anytime, in fact. Just give me a call.”

“We will.” She laughed. They both knew Pip would be on the phone to him by the next day, but Ophélie saw no harm in it. She needed a man in her life in some form, and Ophélie had no others to offer. Theirs was a relationship that suited all three of them, and served them well, even the adults.

Ophélie watched him drive away in his old station wagon, closed the door, and turned off the lights. Pip had slept in her own bed that night, which was rare these days, and Ophélie lay in her too-big bed for a long time, in the dark, wide awake, thinking of the evening, and the man who had become Pip's friend, and then hers. She knew they were lucky to have him, but thinking of him somehow led to thoughts of Ted. The memories she had of him seemed so perfect in some ways, and so disturbing in others. There was a deep, silent dissonance there when old agonies crept into her head, and in spite of that, she still missed him unbearably, and wondered if she always would. Her life as a woman seemed to be over, and even her role as a mother would be short-lived. Chad was gone, and Pip would be off to her own life in a few years. She couldn't even imagine what her life would be like then, and hated to think of it. She would be alone, inevitably. And in spite of friends like Andrea, and now Matt, once Pip went off to college and a life of her own, any semblance of purpose and usefulness in her life would be over. The thought of it filled her with panic, and longing for Ted again. The only direction she seemed to be able to look on nights like that was backward, to a life that was now over, and looking ahead filled her with terror and dread. It was at moments like that, of deep soul-searching, that she understood all too well how Chad had felt. Only her responsibilities to Pip still kept her going, and from doing something truly foolish. But at times, in the dark of night, undeniably, the temptation was there. However wrong she knew it was, given her responsibilities to Pip, death would have been a sweet release.

15

THREE DAYS AFTER THEIR COZY DINNER WITH MATT, Ophélie had to face a challenge she had been dreading for a while. After four months of regular support and attendance, her grief group was about to end. They treated it as a “graduation,” and talked of “re-entry” into the world at one's own pace, and tried to give their last meeting a celebratory air. But the reality of losing each other and the support and intimacy they'd shared brought most of them to tears on the last day, and Ophélie as well.

They hugged each other and promised to stay in touch, exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and each discussed their future plans. Mr. Feigenbaum was dating someone, a seventy-eight-year-old woman he had met while taking bridge lessons, and he was excited about her. And a few of the others had started dating, some had travel plans, one of the women had decided to sell her house, after agonizing endlessly, another woman had agreed to move in with her sister, and a man Ophélie didn't like much had finally made peace with his daughter after his wife's death, and after a family feud of nearly thirty years. But for the most part, they still had a long road to travel, and many adjustments to make.

Ophélie's main accomplishment, visibly at least, was her volunteer job at the Wexler Center. Her attitude was better, the black hole she still fell into at times, that they all talked about and dreaded, was not quite as deep, and the dark periods not quite as long. But she knew, as they each did about their own lives, that her struggles to adjust to her losses were by no means over. They were just better than they had been, and she had acquired more effective tools to cope. It was all she could hope for, and in some ways seemed enough.