She was still asleep when Andrea called them, and Ophélie told her what had happened. And she commented on Matt's involvement.

“He doesn't sound like a child molester to me. Maybe you should molest him,” Andrea suggested with a chuckle. “And if you don't, I will.” She hadn't had a date since the baby, and she was getting antsy. Andrea enjoyed male companionship, and she had her eye on a single father at the playground. She had always dated the men in her office, many of them married. “Why don't you invite him to dinner?”

“We'll see,” Ophélie said vaguely. She had enjoyed having lunch with him, but she had no desire to pursue him, or anyone, for that matter. As far as she was concerned, she still felt married. She had talked about it in her group frequently, and couldn't imagine feeling otherwise. The thought of being single again made her shudder. She had been in love with Ted for twenty years, and even death hadn't changed that. In spite of everything that had happened, her love for him had never wavered.

“I'll come out to see you this week,” Andrea promised. “Why don't you invite him to dinner when I come? I want to see him.”

“You're disgusting.” Ophélie laughed at her old friend. They chatted for a few minutes, and after they hung up, she carried Pip into her room and tucked her in. And as she did, she realized she hadn't done it in ages. She felt as though she were slowly waking from a deep sleep. Ted and Chad had been gone for ten months now. It was hard to believe. Nearly a year since her life had been utterly and totally shattered. She hadn't picked up the pieces yet, but ever so slowly she was finding them here and there, and one day, maybe, she would get her life back together. But she wasn't there yet. And she knew she still had a long way to go before she got there. It had been nice having company that afternoon, and talking to Matt. But she still felt like a married woman entertaining a guest. The thought of dating was inconceivable to her, if not to Andrea.

But it was that which had impressed Matt as he sat across the table from her. He had liked her dignity, and gentle grace. There was nothing sharp or pushy about her. He had had the same feelings as Ophélie about dating at first. It had taken him years and years and years to get over Sally. And now where those feelings had been, he was numb finally. He didn't love her anymore, and he no longer hated her. He felt nothing for her. And where his heart had been, there was empty space. All he was capable of, in his own mind at least, was a friendship with an eleven-year-old girl.





6

PIP'S WEEK OF CONVALESCENCE WAS FRUSTRATING FOR her. She sat on the couch in the living room watching television and reading books, and when Ophélie felt up to it, playing cards. But most of the time, Ophélie was still too distracted to play with her. Pip did little sketches on random pieces of paper she found, but what irked her most of all was that she couldn't go down on the beach, or visit Matt, she wasn't supposed to get sand in her stitches. And ever since the day she'd cut her foot, the weather at the beach had been terrific, which made her incarceration seem that much worse.

Pip had been home for three days, under house arrest, when Ophélie decided to take a walk down the beach, and turned without thinking toward the public end. She kept walking, and after a while, much to her surprise, she saw Matt at his easel. He was hard at work and deeply engrossed in what he was doing. She hesitated, as Pip had at first, staying at a distance. And after a time, Matt sensed her, turned, and then saw her. She was standing hesitantly, and looked strikingly like her daughter. And when he smiled at her, she finally approached him.

“Hello, how are you? I didn't want to interrupt you,” she said, smiling shyly.

“No problem,” he smiled reassuringly, “I welcome the interruptions.” He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and she could see that he was in good shape. He had strong arms and broad shoulders, and an easy way about him. “How's Pip?”

“Bored, poor thing. Having to stay off the foot is driving her crazy. She misses coming down to see you.”

“I'll have to come and visit, if that's all right with you,” he asked cautiously. He didn't want to intrude on child or mother.

“She'd love that.”

“Maybe I'll give her some assignments.”

Ophélie noticed that he was working on a view of the sea, with tall, rolling waves on a stormy day, and a tiny sailboat being buffeted by them. The painting was powerful, and somehow touching. It gave off a sense of loneliness and isolation, and the relentlessness of the ocean.

“I like your work.” And she meant it. The painting was lovely, and very good.

“Thank you.”

“Do you always work in watercolors?”

“No, I prefer oils. And I enjoy doing portraits.” It made him think of the one he had promised to do of Pip for her mother's birthday. He wanted to get started before she left Safe Harbour, but since her accident, he hadn't had time to do the preliminary sketches of her. Although he had a clear picture in his head of how he would paint her.

“Do you live here all year round?” she asked with interest.

“Yes, I do. I have for almost ten years.”

“It must get lonely in the wintertime,” she said quietly, not sure if she should sit down in the sand, or just stand near him. She felt as though she should wait for an invitation, as if this part of the beach was his private province. Like an office.

“It's quiet here. I like that. It suits me.” Almost all of the residents of the beach community were summer visitors. There were a few more people who lived there year-round in the section between the public beach and the gated community, but not many. The beach and the town were all but deserted in winter. He seemed like a lonely man to Ophélie, or solitary at least, but he didn't look unhappy. He seemed peaceful and very much at ease in his own skin, as the French would say.

“Do you go into the city much?” she chatted with him, curious about him. It was easy to see why Pip liked him. He was not overly talkative, he had a way of making people feel comfortable with him.

“Almost never. I have no reason to anymore. I sold my business ten years ago when I moved here. I thought I was just taking a break before getting back into it again, and as things turned out, I stayed here.” Selling the ad agency at the top of the market had allowed him to do that, even after he split the proceeds with Sally. And a small inheritance he'd gotten from his parents after that had allowed him to stay. All he had wanted originally was a year off before he started something else, but then she'd left for New Zealand, and he had tried commuting to see the kids. By the time he stopped doing that four years later, he had lost interest in starting another business. And all he wanted to do now was paint. He had had a few one-man shows over the years, but he didn't even do that anymore. He had no need to show his work, only to do it.

“I love it here,” Ophélie said quietly, sinking down into the sand eight or ten feet away from him. It was close enough to see what he was doing and talk to him, but not so close that either of them felt encroached on or invaded. They were mindful of each other's space, and as Pip did sometimes, Ophélie sat watching him in silence, until he finally spoke again.

“It's good for kids here,” he said, squinting at his work, and then looking into the distance. “It's pretty safe, and they can run around on the beach. It's a lot simpler than life in the city.”

“I like how close it is. I can go back and forth easily, and leave her here. We don't have to go anywhere, just be here.”

“I like that too.” He smiled at her. And then he decided to inquire further about her. He was curious, despite what he knew, she was obviously bright, but at the same time, haunted and quiet. “Do you work?” He didn't think so. She hadn't mentioned it at lunch, and Pip had never said anything about it.

“No. I did a long time ago, when we lived in Cambridge, before we moved out here and the kids were born. I didn't work then, because whatever I would have made wouldn't have been enough to pay a babysitter, so there didn't seem to be much point. I worked as a TA in the biochemistry lab at Harvard. I loved it.” Ted had gotten her the job, and it had fit into her premed plans then, until she'd shelved her own dreams completely. In the end, and almost since the beginning, Ted had been the only dream she wanted or needed. He and their children had been her entire world.

“Sounds very lofty. Do you think you'd ever go back to it? I mean med school.” Ophélie laughed in answer to the question.

“I'm way too old. Between med school and residency and studying for boards and certifying, I'd be fifty by the time I was a doctor.” At forty-two, her dreams of med school had long since vanished.

“Some people do it. It might be fun.”

“It would have been then, I guess. But I was happy standing behind my husband.” In many ways, she was still very French, and had been happy to play second fiddle to him. She didn't see it that way, she saw herself as his support system and cheering team to encourage him through the hard times, and she had been. It was the main reason their marriage had lasted. Ted needed her as his link to the real world. She was the one thing that had kept him going when things were hardest. And now there was no one to do the same for her, except her daughter. “I've been thinking about getting a job lately. Or to be honest, other people have been thinking of it for me. My group and my closest friend mostly. They think I need something to keep me busy. Pip is in school all day, and I don't have a lot to do.” With Ted and Chad gone, her job seemed to be almost over. Chad had kept her more than occupied, with his many challenges and problems. And Ted had also required a fair amount of attention. But Pip didn't, she was busy during the day and after school and with her friends on weekends. She was surprisingly well occupied and self-sufficient. And Ophélie felt as though she had lost not only half her family but her job along with it. “I don't know what I'd do though. I have no formal training.”