“We'll go to the park tomorrow, sweetheart. Maybe to the boat pond.”

“There's a birthday party at the Oldenfields' tomorrow afternoon, Mrs. Patterson.” Marielle was clearly interfering with their more important social engagements.

“Then I'll take him in the morning.” She looked at Miss Griffin defiantly, but to no avail, the older woman always won, and she had Malcolm's support and knew it. Marielle always felt so powerless here, so out of control, as though she didn't exist and had never existed. “We'll go tomorrow morning.” She looked at Teddy reassuringly but there were tears running down his little round cheeks anyway. Tomorrow was too far away, for both of them, and he knew it.

“Can't you stay?” She shook her head sadly in answer, and held him close to her for a moment. And then she stood up, trying to look lighthearted, as he was led away, crying, to his bathroom. As she left, Marielle closed the door softly behind her. She always felt so cruel leaving him, he was being brought up by strangers, not even friends, and Marielle herself didn't dare defy them. She had been brought into this house to have this child, and once she had, she no longer seemed to serve any purpose whatsoever. It was hard to live with that, hard to feel useless and unwelcome. And yet her life with Malcolm was something she was grateful for, and she had the child…but that was all she had, and why he was so infinitely, desperately precious to her.

She went to her own dressing room then, thinking of him, and changed into a long, pink satin dressing gown, and looked at herself long and hard in the mirror. In some ways, the years had been kind to her. Her figure had stayed the same, despite two children, but her face seemed older now, more sharply etched, more defined and wiser. The eyes were what gave her away, they said she had lived several lifetimes. And as she sat there, she found herself thinking of Charles again, only a few blocks away, and for an insane moment, she wanted to call him, but she knew she couldn't. There was nothing left to say to him except recriminations and apologies and regrets. There were no answers to their questions and now they both knew there never would be.

Malcolm came home shortly after that, and told her he had a business dinner scheduled for that evening. It had come up unexpectedly, and he apologized, as he kissed the top of her head and disappeared hastily to his own bedroom. She ordered a tray in her room that night, and tried to read the same page of the same book over and over, but she found she couldn't make sense of it, no matter how hard she tried. Her mind was elsewhere.

All through the evening, memories of Charles kept intruding on her…Charles in Paris when he was so brave, so wild, so young… in Venice… in Rome on their honeymoon… of Charles laughing…teasing her…swimming in a lake…running through a field…and then the last time…in Switzerland…and now, today… She laid her head down, and cried finally, unable to bear the memories a moment longer. And finally, late that night, as the house lay still, she tiptoed silently upstairs and looked at the sleeping child. She knelt on the floor next to his bed and kissed the velvet of his forehead, and then tiptoed back downstairs to the room where she slept alone. She was aching to call Charles, but she owed Malcolm too much. He had done too much for her. She could not call Charles, no matter what… no matter what she still felt, or what he had said…she knew her days with Charles Delauney were over forever.

3

The next morning, Marielle made one of her rare appearances in the dining room for breakfast. Usually, she had her breakfast in her room on a tray, but this morning she had woken early. She found Malcolm downstairs, finishing his coffee and eggs, and reading the morning paper. In Italy, Mussolini had just demanded that France hand over Corsica and Tunisia.

“Good morning, my dear.' He was always courteous, always kind, always seemed pleased to see her, like a charming houseguest he hadn't expected to encounter quite so early. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not very,” she said honestly, which was rare. Usually it was easier to just say what was expected…fine…thank you…excellent…marvelous…but her night had been filled with nightmares.

“One of your headaches again?” He put down the paper to look her over, but she seemed well. In fact, she looked better than she had in a while, he decided.

“No, just a long night. I probably drank too much coffee after dinner.”

“You should drink wine, or champagne.” He smiled. “That'll put you to sleep.”

She smiled in answer. “Are you home tonight?”

“I think so. We'll spend a quiet evening by the fire.” Everything was always such a frenzy right before Christmas, the week before they had been out five evenings in a row, at least this week was quiet. “What are you doing today?”

“I thought I'd take Teddy to the park this morning.” She led such a small life, he felt. She seldom went out, never had lunch with friends. He had introduced her to everyone, yet even after all these years, she kept to herself. She was a very quiet young woman. And when he pressed her about it from time to time, she always said she didn't have time, but the truth was she didn't have the courage. And only she knew what terrible sins she thought she was hiding.

“I want to take him to Snow White too. Do you think he's too young?” Marielle asked him. It had just opened earlier that year, and it was an enormous hit.

Malcolm shook his head as he set down his paper. “Not at all. I think hell love it. That reminds me. I want to check on the progress of the train room. They're working down there like elves.” It was only twelve days until Christmas.

“Will it be ready in time?” She knew it would, with Malcolm in charge of the project. He tolerated no broken deadlines.

“I certainly hope so. By the way, I'm going to Washington next week. Would you like to come?”

“To see your friends again?” He had important friends in the War Department, and he loved going to Washington to see them. He nodded. “About some important business I'm doing. And then I have an appointment with the German ambassador, about a project in Berlin.”

“You sound as though you'll be very busy.”

“I will, but you're more than welcome to come with me.” But she knew perfectly well that he would have no time for her there, and despite his invitation, she would only be a burden. And she had so much to do before Christmas.

“I'd really love to stay here and get organized. Would you be upset if I didn't come?”

“Of course not, my dear. It's up to you. I'll be back very quickly.”

“Maybe after the New Year,” she suggested, wondering if she was failing him, or if he'd be angry at her not going. She was always afraid of doing the wrong thing, or hurting someone, or letting him down, or not being wherever, or not doing something she should be. But where should she be? With Malcolm in Washington, or here with Teddy? Those decisions had become difficult for her over the last nine years, because if you made the wrong choice, it could cost you all you had. She had learned that lesson and paid for it dearly. “Is that all right?” she asked nervously.

“It's fine.' He was quick to reassure her. He kissed her good-bye then, and a little while later, she went upstairs to dress. And later that morning, as promised, she went out with Teddy. Miss Griffin had attempted to accompany her, but for once Marielle had been firm and told her that she and Teddy wanted to be alone for the morning. He was thrilled with what she said, and Miss Griffin was so outraged that, as Marielle and Teddy made their way downstairs, they heard the nursery door bang smartly behind them. Teddy only laughed, and Marielle smiled as she put his coat on, and Brigitte stopped to chat with them for a minute, on her way upstairs to see Malcolm.