Danielle Steel - Full circle

“I think you should say something to him.”

“About what?”

“About how his mother died.”

“I couldn't do that. I made a promise to her … to myself … it would be self-serving to tell him now.

“Then why tell me?” She was shocked at herself, at the anger in her voice, at what she felt, at the waste people allowed in their lives, lost moments in which they could have loved each other, like this man and his son.

They had wasted so many years they could have shared. And Harry needed him now. He needed everyone.

Harrison looked apologetically at her. “I suppose I shouldn't have told you all that. But I needed to talk to someone … and you're … so close to him.” He looked at her point blank. “I wanted you to know that I love my son.” There was a lump in her throat the size of a fist and she wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him, or perhaps both. She had never felt that way about any man before.

“Why the hell don't you tell him yourself?”

“It wouldn't do any good.”

“It might. Maybe this is the time.”

He looked at her pensively, and then down at his hands, and then finally into her green eyes again. “Perhaps it is. I don't know him, though … I wouldn't know where to begin.…”

“Just like that, Mr. Winslow. Just the way you said it to me.”

He smiled at her, and he suddenly looked very tired. “What makes you so wise, little girl?”

She smiled at him, and she felt an incredible warmth emanating from him. He was a lot like Harry in some ways, and yet he was more, and she realized with a pang of embarrassment that she was attracted to him. It was as though all the senses that had been deadened for years, ever since the rape, had suddenly come alive again.

“What were you thinking just then?”

She flushed pink and shook her head. “Something that had nothing to do with all this … I'm sorry … I'm tired … I haven't slept for a few days.…”

“I'll get you home, so you can get some rest.” He signalled for the check, and when it came he looked at her with a gentle smile, and she felt a longing for the father she had never had, or even known. This was the kind of man she would have wanted Andy Roberts to have been, not Arthur Durning who breezed in and out of her mother's life when it suited him. This man was a great deal less selfish than Harry had wanted her to believe, or insisted on believing himself. He had put a lot of energy into hating this man over the years and Tana knew instinctively now that he had been wrong, very wrong, and she wondered if Harrison was right, if it was too late. “Thank you for talking to me, Tana. Harry is lucky to have you as his friend.”

“I've been lucky to have him.”

He put a twenty dollar bill under the check and looked at her again. “Are you an only child?” He suspected that about her, and she nodded with a smile.

“Yes. And I never knew my father, he died before I was born, in the war.” It was something she had said ten thousand times in her life, but it seemed to have new meaning now. Everything did, and she didn't understand what that meant or why. Something strange was happening to her as she sat with this man, and she wondered if it was just because she was so tired. She let him walk her back to his car, and he surprised her by getting in with her, rather than letting the driver take her home.

“I'll ride with you.”

“You really don't need to do that.”

“I have nothing else to do. I'm here to see Harry, and I think he's better off resting for the next few hours.” She agreed with him and they chatted on the drive across the bridge. He mentioned that he had never been to San Francisco before. He found it an attractive place, but he seemed distracted as they drove along. She assumed he was thinking about his son, but he was actually thinking about her, and he shook her hand when they arrived. “I'll see you at the hospital again. If you need a ride, just call the hotel and I'll send the car for you.” She had mentioned that she'd been taking the bus back and forth and that worried him. She was young, after all, and pretty and anything could have happened to her.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Winslow.”

“Harrison.” He smiled at her, and he looked exactly like Harry when he smiled, not quite as mischievous, but there was a sparkle there too. “I'll see you soon. Get some rest now!” He waved, and the limousine drove off, as she slowly climbed the stairs, thinking of all he had said. How unfair life was at times. She fell asleep thinking of Harrison … and Harry … and Vietnam … and the woman who had killed herself, and in Tana's dream she had no face, and when she awoke it was dark, and she sat up with a start and couldn't catch her breath in the tiny room. She glanced at the clock and it was nine o'clock, and she wondered how Harry was. She went to the pay phone and called and discovered that the fever was down, he had been awake for a while, and now he was dozing again, but he hadn't gone to bed for the night. They hadn't given him his sleeping medicine yet, and they probably wouldn't for a while, and suddenly, as Tana heard caroling outside, she realized that it was Christmas Eve, and Harry needed her. She showered quickly and decided to dress for him. She wore a pretty white knit dress, high heeled shoes, and put on a red coat and a scarf that she hadn't worn since the winter before in New York, and thought she would never wear here. But somehow it all looked and felt Christmasy, and she thought that might be important to him. She put on some perfume, brushed her hair, and rode back into town on the bus, thinking of his father again. It was ten thirty at night when she arrived at Letterman, and there was a sleepy holiday air about it all. Little trees with blinking lights, plastic Santa Clauses here and there. But no one seemed to be in a particularly holiday mood, there were too many desperately serious things going on, and when she reached his room, she knocked softly and tiptoed in, expecting him to be asleep, and instead, he was lying there, staring at the wall, with tears in his eyes. He started when he saw her, and he didn't even smile.

“I'm dying, aren't I?” She was shocked at his words, at his tone, at the lifeless look in his eyes, and she suddenly frowned and approached the bed.

“Not unless you want to die.” She knew she had to be blunt with him. “It's pretty much up to you.” She stood very close to him, looking into his eyes, and he did not reach for her hand.

“That's a dumb thing to say. It wasn't my idea to get shot in the ass.”

“Sure it was.” She sounded nonchalant and for a moment he looked pissed.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That you could have gone to school. And you decided to play instead. So you got the short end of the stick. You gambled and you lost.”

“Yeah. Only I didn't lose ten bucks, I lost my legs. Not exactly small stakes.”

“Looks like they're still there to me.” She glanced down at the useless limbs and he almost snarled at her.

“Don't be an ass. What good are they now?”

“You've got them, and you're alive, and there's plenty you can still do. And according to the nurses, you can still get it up,” she had never been so blunt with him and it was a hell of a speech for Christmas Eve, but she knew it was time to start pushing him, especially if he thought he was going to die. “Hell, look at the bright side, you might even get the clap again.”

“You make me sick.” He turned away, and without thinking she grabbed at his arm, and he turned to look at her again.

“Look, dammit, you make me sick. Half the boys in your platoon were killed, and you're alive, so don't lie there whining at what you don't have. Think of what you do. Your life isn't over, unless you want it to be, and I don't want it to be,” tears stung her eyes, “I want you to get off that dead ass of yours, if I have to drag you by the hair for the next ten years to make you get up and live again. Is that clear?” The tears were pouring down her cheeks. “I'm not going to let go of you. Ever! Do you understand that?” And slowly, slowly … she saw a smile dawn in his eyes.