Danielle Steel - Answered prayers

“God, no. She was such a bitch. Talk about sacrificing everything for peace. I'll never know why Jack put up with her. She was awful to him. I don't know how many times she left him, or threatened to. She'd have driven me insane. At least Alex goes his own way, and does his own thing, and it sounds like Pam does too. Debbie was constantly in his face.”

“He was crazy about her though,” Brad reminded her. “I couldn't figure it out myself. I think it's one of the reasons he and I saw less and less of each other. She hated me, and I wasn't too fond of her. It kind of got in the way with me and Jack.”

“You know, she walked away without ever looking back,” Faith explained as she sat back in her chair against the red coat, which looked like a giant flower engulfing her. “Her lawyer let us know she was getting remarried and moving away. She never called. She never wrote. I never heard from her again.”

“That stinks,” Brad said, and Faith agreed.

“Much as I dislike her, I wish Jack had had kids with her, or with someone at least. It would be so wonderful to have his children now. This way, there's nothing left… just the memories … and not much else,” Faith said, fighting back tears again, as Brad squeezed her hand.

“We have each other, Fred. That's what he left us. All the good times we shared, all those memories, all those years when we were kids.” She nodded in answer, and for a moment couldn't speak.

They had cappuccino after dinner, and decided to skip dessert. And Faith was surprised when Brad looked straight at her. “Do you suppose there are any good marriages, Fred? I wonder sometimes. When I look around at the people we know, I don't think there's a single one of them who has something I'd want. It sounds cynical, but I'm beginning to think no one's dreams ever come true. We all kid ourselves about what we're getting when we start out, and how it'll turn out, and in the end, we all end up like you and I. Making compromises that cost us a hell of a lot, and being grateful for our kids and old friends to get us by.”

“That's a sad way to look at it, Brad. I like to think that somebody out there is happy. I have friends who are. At least I think they are. I can't say I'm not. I just don't have what I thought I would with Alex. It's different, that's all.” And she didn't say it to him, but her faith sustained her, and added another dimension to her life. She had always been very devout, as was Jack. Brad had always admired them both for that, and envied them their faith.

“I think you're kidding yourself, Fred. We wouldn't be e-mailing each other for old times' sake, if we had what we want in our marriages. Our kids wouldn't be the hub of our lives to the extent that they are. We might even be happy when they finally grow up and go away. What do you think you have with Alex, Fred? What would you say, honestly? I think I had a friend and a business associate in Pam, and now that we don't work together we're just friends, if that. We're roommates, and not much more.” Listening to him, it sounded sad to her, but he seemed comfortable with it. He was remarkably honest, both with her and himself. He had few illusions left, and no dreams.

“I think Alex and I are friends,” she said thoughtfully, though he thought she was being overly generous, from all he'd heard from her. But she didn't delude herself that they were still in love. They were not, but they had been once. Or at least, she had been in love with him. She was no longer sure how much emotion Alex was capable of. Probably less than she had once hoped. “We support each other. No, that's wrong,” she corrected herself, “I support him. And he provides for me. He's a good father to the girls, he's responsible. He's a decent human being.” She was struggling to find more, and having trouble coming up with words to describe what he was to her. He was solid, she could count on him. But he didn't give her much emotionally, and hadn't in years.

“See what I mean? It's not exactly what you thought marriage would be, is it, Fred? When I take a good look, I see the same thing. But just like you, I wouldn't change it. I don't think there would be much point. I think the conclusion I've come to is that you get what you get, and you make the best of it. But the truth is, it leaves a lot of holes in your life to fill. You fill it with kids, with friends, with work, with dreams, with fantasies, with regrets, with whatever works. But no matter what you fill it with, or how hard you try to kid yourself, the holes are still there.”

“That's a tough way to look at it,” Faith said, a little shaken by what he'd said, but she couldn't disagree.

“I'd rather be honest with myself. When I wasn't, I was desperately unhappy, and constantly trying to make my relationship with Pam into something it could never be, and her into someone she never was. Once I accepted what it was, and wasn't, and who she was in my life, and who she could never be, I think I finally made my peace with all of it.”

“Is there someone else in your life?” she asked openly. It was a question she would have asked Jack, but there had never been for him. He had been too obsessed with Debbie to ever cheat on her, although she had cheated on him, and he had been devastated by it when he found out. But no matter what she did to him, he had always taken her back. Faith had always felt that her brother had taken forgiveness and loyalty to an insane degree, where his wife was concerned at least. But it was also what she'd loved in him.

“There was someone else once,” Brad answered as candidly as her brother would have. “I think Pam suspected it, but she never made an issue of it. I don't think she wanted to know. But those things can't go anywhere. They frustrate everyone if you want to stay in your marriage, which I did, and still do. People get hurt. I never felt right about it, and I never did it again. It's easier this way.” He seemed at peace with his situation as it was.

“Would you divorce Pam if you fell in love with someone else?” Faith asked, curious about him now. What he had said over dinner fascinated her, and he was equally intrigued by her, and what made her tick, now that she was an adult, what compromises she had made, in comparison to his own.

“Never,” he said, looking absolutely convinced. “When I married Pam, I meant what I said. For better or worse. Until death do us part. I'm not going to make the same mistakes my parents made. I owe it to my kids, and even now that they're grown up, relatively, they don't need all the misery of parents who hate each other, won't speak to each other, and destroy everything they ever built. I just wouldn't divorce her. And I'm not going to fall in love with anyone else. I wouldn't let that happen again.”

“Neither would I,” Faith said quietly, although she had had no opportunities, but she wouldn't have taken them if she had. For religious reasons if nothing else. But mostly out of respect for her marriage. “I feel the same way about it you do,” she concurred. “All you do is trade one set of problems for another. There are no perfect lives.”

“We're a sorry pair, the two of us,” he laughed, as he paid the check, and then he looked at her seriously. “I'm glad we found each other again, Fred. You're like a gift in my life. You suddenly make it all worthwhile … like a gold coin you thought you lost years ago, and find in the back of a drawer, and not only is it as beautiful as it once was, but you discover it's become even more valuable than it used to be. I love talking to you, and e-mailing you, and getting e-mails from you. You really brighten my days.”

She smiled at him, grateful for what he said. And she felt the same way about him. “It's your fault I'm going back to school. When I'm doing homework at three A.M., I'll blame you,” she teased.