“I think you were smart not to do anything too quickly. You can always sell the house, if you really want to. It's probably good for Pip not to have the trauma of moving. That would be a big change for her, if you've lived there for a long time.”

“Since she was six, and she loves it. More than I do.”

They sat quietly then for a while, enjoying each other's company, even in silence. And when he finished his wine, he stood up, and she joined him. By then, the fire was slowly dying.

“I'll call you next week,” he said, and it reassured her. He was a solid, reliable male presence in her life, like a brother. “Call if you need anything, or if there's anything I can do for you or Pip.” He knew he'd worry about them.

“Thank you, Matt,” she said gently. “For everything. You've been a wonderful friend, to both of us.”

“I intend to stay that way,” he said, and put an arm around her as she walked him to his car.

“So do we. Take care of yourself. Don't be too lonely out here, it's not good for you. Come to see us in the city, it will distract you.” Now that she knew more about his life, she could imagine how alone he must feel at times, just as she did. So many people they had loved and cared about had left their lives, through death and divorce, and circumstances that neither of them had wanted. The tides of life that swept away people and places and cherished moments all too quickly, just as the ocean had swept away the boy they'd saved only days before.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, not knowing what else to say to her. He waved as he drove away, and watched her walk back into the house, and then he drove back to his bungalow down the beach, wishing that he were braver, and that life were different than it was.





12

“GOOD-BYE, HOUSE,” PIP SAID SOLEMNLY AS THEY LEFT it. Ophélie locked the door, and dropped the keys in the mail slot at the realtor's on the way out. The summer was over. And as they drove past the narrow winding street that Matt lived on, Pip was strangely silent. She didn't speak until they were on the bridge, and then she turned to her mother. “Why don't you like him?” she said almost angrily. Her tone was an accusation. Ophélie had no idea who she was talking about.

“Like who?”

“Matt. I think he likes you.” Pip was glaring at her, and totally confusing her mother.

“I like him too. What are you talking about?”

“I mean like a man… you know… like a boyfriend.”

They were nearly at the tollbooth, and Ophélie was fumbling for her money, and then glanced at her daughter. “I don't want a boyfriend. I'm a married woman,” she said firmly, as she found the money.

“No, you're not. You're a widow.”

“That's the same thing. Nearly. Whatever brought this on? And no, I don't think he likes me ‘as a girlfriend.’ And if he did, it wouldn't make a difference. He's our friend, Pip. Let's not spoil that.”

“Why would it spoil it?” She sounded stubborn. She had been thinking about it all morning. And she already missed him.

“It just would. Trust me. I'm a grown-up. I know. If we got involved, someone would get hurt or upset about something, and then it would be all over.”

“Does someone always get hurt?” Pip looked disappointed. This was not encouraging information.

“Almost always. And then you don't like each other anymore, and you don't get to stay friends. And he wouldn't see you. Think how sad that would be.” Ophélie was very definite in her opinion on the subject.

“What if you got married? Then none of that would happen.”

“I don't want to get married again. And neither does he. He got very badly hurt when his wife left him.”

“Did he tell you that? About not wanting to get married again?” Pip sounded suspicious. It didn't sound likely to her.

“More or less. We talked about his marriage and divorce. It sounded very traumatic.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?” She looked suddenly hopeful.

“Of course not. Don't be silly.” It was a ridiculous conversation, from Ophélie's perspective.

“Then how do you know that's how he feels?”

“I just know it. Besides, I don't want to get remarried. I still feel married to your father.” It sounded noble to her, but it made Pip angry, which surprised her mother.

“Well, he's dead, and he's not coming back. I think you should marry Matt, and then we could keep him.”

“He may not want to be ‘kept,’ never mind how I feel. Why don't you marry him? I think he would suit you.” She was teasing her, in order to end the awkward moment. She didn't like being told that Ted was dead and never coming back. It was all she thought about, and had for the last eleven months. It was hard to believe it was almost a year now. In some ways it felt like forever, in others like only minutes.

“I think he would suit me too,” Pip said sensibly, “which is why you have to marry him.”

“Maybe he'd like Andrea,” Ophélie said to distract her, but crazier things had happened. She suddenly wondered if she should introduce them, but Pip had an instant and very negative opinion. Besides, she didn't want to lose him. She wanted Matt for them.

“No, he wouldn't,” Pip said firmly. “He'd hate her. She's too strong for him. She likes to tell everyone what to do, including men. That's why they always leave her.” It was an interesting assessment, and Ophélie knew her daughter wasn't entirely mistaken. Pip had overheard a lot of conversations between her parents about Andrea over the years, and had figured some of it out herself. Andrea had a way of emasculating men, and she was too independent, which was why she'd had to go to a sperm bank for a baby. No man so far had wanted to get that closely entangled with her. But it was an amazing perception for a child Pip's age, and Ophélie didn't disagree with her, although she didn't say it. But she was impressed by her wisdom. “He'd be much happier with you, and me,” Pip said modestly, and then giggled. “Maybe we should ask him the next time we see him.”

“I'm sure he'd love that. Why don't we just tell him. Or order him to marry us. That would do it.” Ophélie smiled too.

“Yeah,” Pip grinned, “I like that.” She squinted her eyes in the sun, thinking about it. She looked delighted.

“You're a little monster,” her mother teased her, and a few minutes later, they got home, and Ophélie unlocked the door. She hadn't been to the house in three months. She had purposely avoided it whenever she came into the city, and had had their mail forwarded all summer to Safe Harbour. It was the first time she'd been back since they left it. And the reality of their situation hit her like an express train as they entered. She had somehow allowed herself to believe, in the back of her mind, that when they came back, Ted and Chad would be there, waiting for them. As though this had been a trip, and the agony of the last year had been a bad joke. Chad would come down the stairs, grinning at her, and Ted would be standing in their bedroom doorway, waiting for her with that look that still turned her stomach upside down and her knees to jelly. The chemistry between them had been powerful for their entire marriage. But the house was empty. There was no escaping the truth. She and Pip were alone forever.

They both stood in the front door, as the same realization hit them at the same time, and their eyes filled with tears as they held each other.

“I hate it here,” Pip said softly, as they clung to each other.

“So do I,” her mother whispered.

Neither of them wanted to go upstairs or to their respective bedrooms. The reality of it was just too awful. And for the moment, Matt was forgotten. He had his own life, his own world. And they had theirs. There was no hiding from it.

Ophélie went out to the car and unloaded the bags, and Pip helped her drag them up the stairs. Even that was hard for them. They were both small and the bags were heavy, and there was no one to help them. Ophélie was breathless as she set both of Pip's bags down in her bedroom.

“I'll unpack for you in a minute,” Ophélie said, trying to hang on to the steps she'd made over the summer, but she felt down a black hole again the moment they were back in the house she had once shared with her son and husband. It was as though the healing months at Safe Harbour had never happened.

“I can do it myself, Mom,” Pip said sadly. She felt it too. In some ways it was worse now. Ophélie was more alive again, and had feelings. The year of the robot had been better.

Ophélie dragged her own bags upstairs then, and her heart sank as she opened the closet. It was all still there. Every jacket, every suit, every shirt, every tie, all the shoes he had worn, even the old battered loafers he wore on weekends, that he'd had since Harvard. It was like reliving a nightmare. And she didn't even dare go into Chad's room, she knew it would kill her. This was bad enough, and as she unpacked her things, she could feel herself slipping backward. It was frightening.

By dinnertime, they were both silent and pale and exhausted, and they both jumped when the phone rang. They had just decided not to eat dinner for the moment, although Ophélie knew the child had to eat at some point, hungry or not. In her own case, she never hesitated to miss a meal.

Ophélie didn't move, there was no one she wanted to speak to, so Pip answered. And her face brightened slowly when she heard his voice.

“Hi, Matt. It's okay,” she said in answer to his question, but he could hear in her voice that it wasn't, and then as her mother watched, she started crying. “No, it isn't, it's awful. It's horrible here. We hate it.” She included her mother in the statement, and Ophélie thought of stopping her, and then didn't. If he was to be their friend, he might as well know how bad it was.