Danielle Steel - Safe Harbour

“I don't know yet. Our family seems to get smaller and smaller. Last year we spent it with Andrea.” She'd been five months pregnant then. The thought of it made Ophélie shudder now, knowing that the baby was Ted's, and the travesty Andrea's friendship had been. “I think Pip and I will just spend it quietly. Maybe it would be nice to come up to Tahoe the day after. I think we should be alone together on Christmas Day.” He nodded, not wanting to intrude on her and Pip. He knew how sensitive she was about that, and it was a bittersweet time for them, full of memories that needed to be honored, however painful. “It would be nice to have something to look forward to the day after.” She smiled up at him, and Pip was so far up the beach that he bent his face down to hers and they kissed. And as he did, he felt a jolt of electricity run through him, which he instantly suppressed. He wanted more of her, but too much had been happening in the past few weeks, and he didn't want to rush his fences with her, or scare her off. They were proceeding with great caution, and no speed. He knew she still had a lot of trepidation about getting involved with him. She was not at all sure yet if she wanted to forge ahead. He had only kissed her a few times by then, and he was willing to wait, however long it took. Although he was aware that the passion he felt for her distracted him. He was equally well aware of all the trauma she'd been through, especially recently. And in spite of it, he could feel desire mounting in her too. Whatever reservations she had, she seemed to be growing ever closer to him.

They talked to Pip about Tahoe when she walked back to them, and she loved the idea. And by the time they left that day, Ophélie had agreed. And Matt had tried to extract yet another promise from her.

“I only want one thing for Christmas from you,” he said seriously, as they sat by the fire in his living room before she and Pip left.

“And what's that?” She was smiling at him. Pip already had his gift, and Ophélie still had to shop for him.

“I want you to resign from the outreach team.” He was serious, and she sighed as she looked at him. He had come to mean so much to her, but she still didn't know what to do about it, when, or if. She felt strongly about him, but her feelings were in constant conflict with her fears. But he wasn't asking for answers or promises. He never put pressure on her, except about this, which he did constantly.

“You know I can't do that, Matt, it's important to me. And to them. I know how right it is for me. And it's hard to get people to work on that team.”

“You know why?” he said, looking unhappy. “Because most people are smart enough to be scared out of their wits, and won't do it.” It had occurred to him more than once that maybe one of her reasons for doing it was some kind of subliminal suicide wish. But whatever her reasons, he was determined to prevail eventually, and get her to quit. He didn't mind her working at the Center, but he didn't want her on the streets. It wasn't a question of not respecting her, but of saving her from herself, and her altruistic ideas. “Ophélie, I'm serious. I want you to give that up, for your sake, and Pip's. If those people are crazy enough to do it, let them, you can help the homeless in other ways. You owe it to yourself to quit.”

“Nothing is as effective as what the outreach guys do. They go to them where they are, give them what they need. The really desperate cases are in no shape to come in for us to help them. We have to go to them,” she said, always trying to convince him, as he did her. It was an insoluble battle between them, and she'd been unwavering about it. But he kept trying, and intended to continue to do so. “What you don't realize is that they're not bad guys out there or criminals. They're sad, needy, broken people, in desperate need of help. Some of them are just kids, and old people. I can't walk away from them and figure someone else will do it. If I don't, who will? So many of them are really decent and I have a responsibility to them. What else do you want for Christmas?” she asked, as much to change the subject as because she needed ideas, but all he did was shake his head.

“That's all I want from you. And if you don't give it to me, Santa is going to put coal in your stocking, or reindeer poop.” Sometimes he wondered if she was right and he was overreacting. She was very persuasive, but he still wasn't convinced. She laughed at what he said then, unaware of the fact that he already had her gift wrapped and put away, and had for quite a while. He hoped she liked it. And with Ophélie's permission, he had bought Pip a beautiful new bicycle that she could use in the park in town, and at the beach when she came to see him. He was pleased, because it was kind of a fatherly gift, something her mother wouldn't have thought to give her. Ophélie had been shopping for clothes and games for her for weeks. She was at a tough age, somewhere between toys, which she had outgrown, and big girl gifts, which she was only now growing into. At twelve, she was exactly in between. He had hidden the bike in his garage at the beach, under a sheet, and Ophélie had assured him she'd be thrilled.

The one gift Matt didn't want was the one he got the week before Christmas. A call from Sally telling him she was arriving the next day, with Vanessa, and her two youngest kids. Hamish's four children were with their mother for the holidays, and she had decided to come to San Francisco, as she put it, “to see him.” All he wanted was to see his daughter, which he was wildly excited about, but not his ex-wife. They were planning to stay at the Ritz. And he called to complain to Ophélie about it, the minute he hung up. She was getting ready to go out with the outreach team.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” he said, sounding irritated. “I'm not going to see her. All I want is to see Nessie. The good news is she's coming to Tahoe with me. Nessie, not Sally,” he corrected, but Ophélie was concerned anyway, and didn't want to let on to him that she was. She was far too attached to Matt by now, not to be affected by the specter of his exwife. What if he fell in love with her again? If he had before, perhaps he could again, in spite of everything she'd done. She had just been relaxing about her, but Sally's impending arrival set her on edge suddenly. She had a sixth sense that he would see her, and doing so would stir up old feelings for him. Men were naïve about such things, and it was obvious from Sally's insistence on seeing him, that she had something up her sleeve. Ophélie tried as delicately as she could to warn him of it.

“Sally? Don't be ridiculous. That's dead and gone. She's just bored and doesn't know what to do with herself. She's trying to decide what to do with her business. Ophélie, you have nothing to worry about. I'm well out of that, and have been for ten years.” He sounded remarkably blithe about it, but all of Ophélie's female antennae were on high alert.

“Stranger things have happened,” she warned wisely.

“Not to me. It's been over for me for years, and longer than that for her. She left me, remember. For a guy with more money and more toys,” he said, still smarting from the blow.

“Now she's got the money, and he's gone. And she's scared and lonely. Trust me. You haven't heard the last of her.” But Matt violently disagreed. Until she got to the Ritz, and called him an hour after she did. Her voice was all honey and sweetness, and she asked him if he'd like to come to tea. She said she was exhausted from the flight, and looked a mess, but she was dying to see him. He was so startled, he wasn't sure what to say.

Ophélie's warnings immediately came to mind, but he dismissed them out of hand. She was just trying to be friendly, for old times' sake, but even that didn't appeal to him. Far from it, after she'd stolen his kids from him. His rational mind hated her, but there were other parts of him, which responded instinctively to memory. It was Pavlovian and irritated him at himself as much as her. It was her way of torturing him, to see if she could still pull the old familiar strings.