A Summer Love Affair, page 20
Cam squirmed in her seat. “I don’t know the answer to that question, but there’s something else I haven’t told you. Only yesterday Ralph mentioned in an overly casual, offhand way that Lily spent last Saturday afternoon with him and the kids at the children’s museum in Boston.”
Petra felt slightly sick to her stomach. “Whose idea was that? I mean, did Ralph invite her to meet them or did she instigate the outing, suggest Ralph and the kids come down to Boston for the day?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t have the heart or the nerve to ask.” Cam laughed unhappily. “What really hurt was that Beth never told me they had gone to the museum. She always tells me everything. Why keep that a secret? I know she adores Lily; she always babbles on about how cool she is. So why the silence? Did Ralph tell her not to tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Cam,” Petra said, aware she was speaking a bit too loudly, “but this is getting ridiculous. You have to have it out with Ralph. If your children are being dragged into a subterfuge, then now is the time to act. I know you don’t want to cause them harm.”
“Of course, I don’t,” Cam said. “And I will act. I promise. But in the meantime, I’m bringing Beth with me to Eliot’s Corner this weekend. To keep her away from Lily. Not that Ralph will have time to fool around. His sister and her husband and their baby are visiting. They should keep him safely occupied.”
Fool around? Safely occupied? Petra realized that she almost felt more distressed by the situation in her sister’s marriage than she had upon learning that the man she thought was her father was not in biological fact her father.
“Do I have a right to ask Ralph not to see Lily without my being there?” Cam said suddenly.
“Absolutely!” Petra declared. “Look, do you still think Lily can’t tell that Ralph is into her?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I can’t see how she could miss his schoolboy devotion. Unless she’s so used to men falling at her feet it doesn’t really register! But if she is aware that Ralph has feelings for her, she should be adult enough to stay away from us for a while, give Ralph’s obsession time to die out. She would know that his behavior is hurting me.”
“I agree that it would be nice if Lily backed away for a while,” Petra admitted, “give you and Ralph some time to breathe. But it’s not her marriage at stake, so it’s not her responsibility to fix things.”
Cam sighed. “I know. Honestly, before Ralph’s infatuation I enjoyed spending time with Lily. We’ve always got on pretty well, and like I said, Beth adores her. She’s the glamorous aunt figure, the one who wears prettier clothes than Mommy and always shows up with a gift, usually something Mommy said no to, like a ridiculously expensive pack of glittery barrettes.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having that sort of person in your life when you’re a kid,” Petra noted. “In a way, Chris played that role for you and Jess, didn’t he? Different from Dad. Traveling all over the world and bringing back interesting or exotic souvenirs for you.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but you’re right.” Suddenly, a look of horror came to Cam’s face. “Oh, Lord, and Chris had an affair with Mom!”
Petra put her hands to her head. “I’m such an idiot!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to make that comparison at all! I’m so sorry, Cam. Whatever’s going on, I bet that in the end it will all be much ado about nothing.”
“I certainly hope so. In spite of what I told Jess, learning that Mom and Dad’s supposedly rock-solid marriage wasn’t always so rock-solid has made me feel a bit dispirited all around.”
Petra didn’t know what else to say; she was afraid anything but a generic farewell might cause her sister more upset. When Cam had signed off, Petra put her laptop aside and scrunched down on the bed. She felt worn out. This latest conversation with Cam, coming as it had so soon after her sending an e-mail to Christopher Ryan, had really taken a toll on her spirit.
Suddenly, Petra rolled over and reached for her copy of The Wild Swans, that cherished childhood book.
Within moments, she was in another world.
Chapter 44
Elizabeth had finally gotten her wish of a visit from her granddaughter and namesake, but at the moment, Beth had little time for her family. There was a gentle tide in which to wade, shells and stones to be collected, and other kids to make friends with, all more appealing than sitting with the grown-ups and listening to their boring talk.
“Getting her a neon-colored bathing suit was a smart idea,” Elizabeth commented. “She’s impossible to miss, even among the other children.”
Cam smiled. “Beth was actually the one who wanted a neon yellow suit. She has such a love of bright colors. But yes, it makes it easy to keep an eye on her.”
The women were seated on folding chairs. A beach blanket that had been in use since Elizabeth’s children were small was spread out at their feet. A cooler loaded with bottled water, sliced fruit, and sandwiches—ham and cheese with lettuce and tomato for the adults; peanut butter and grape jelly for Beth—sat nearby.
Petra had heard of a new flea market a few towns away and had taken Elizabeth’s car—with her blessing, of course. She had said she was annoyed with herself for neglecting the search for vintage goods to sell on Past Perfect’s website. Elizabeth felt certain that Petra’s neglect of her online business was at least partly due to her preoccupation with Christopher Ryan. That was natural enough.
“Have you spoken with Jess lately?” Cam asked, squeezing more sunblock onto her thighs.
“She’s still being elusive,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I don’t know what she’s up to. But I do know it’s futile to press her to talk. It would only send her farther away.”
“You’re right there. She’s as stubborn as Dad was. If he didn’t want to do something, he simply wasn’t going to do it.” Cam paused before going on. “You know, Chris Ryan brought me a little wooden wishing well from one of his European trips. He had a gift for Jess, too, but I can’t remember what it was. I was enchanted with my wishing well. I’ve kept it all these years. Now, it belongs to Beth. She thinks it’s magic, that a fairy lives inside.”
Elizabeth nodded. She thought of the lavender agate pendant Chris had given her after that same trip, but she chose not to mention it to Cam. Elizabeth wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to keep the origin—the existence—of that pendant a secret between herself and Petra. Another secret. When would all the subterfuge end?
“Was Petra’s conception really an accident?”
Elizabeth drew in her breath sharply. “My, that was abrupt.”
“Sorry,” Cam said hastily. “Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s all right. But I can’t honestly answer that question. I couldn’t back then, and I still can’t now. Was I careless somehow? Maybe. But I didn’t ever consciously want Chris’s child, at least, not unless we were legitimately together. I honestly didn’t set out to get pregnant. That would have been madness. And then when it happened . . . Well, I told you. I panicked. The joy didn’t come until later.”
“Kids change everything. In fact . . .” Cam sighed. “Ralph has developed a major crush on his old girlfriend Lily. Or maybe he’s fallen in love with her again. I don’t know. All I do know is that it’s not right, and the situation is driving me crazy.”
Elizabeth kept her expression neutral. She was glad her daughter had finally opened up to her. She had wondered if Cam had been hesitant to talk about Ralph’s behavior because of its surface similarity to her mother’s situation. A spouse’s failure—or possible failure—to keep the marriage vow.
“I’m surprised,” Elizabeth said carefully. “Ralph has always struck me as a pretty upstanding man. And I’ve met Lily on several occasions, at your wedding for one. She seems like a solid person. She might have a so-called glamorous career and appear to some as being a free-spirit—something most single people are accused of being, no matter the reality—but I don’t see her as what used to be called a homewrecker.”
“Neither did I,” Cam admitted. “Until now. The thing is, Mom, Ralph really wasn’t sold on the idea of having more kids after Beth. I pretty much forced the issue. Now I can’t help but wonder if Ralph’s infatuation—pray that’s all it is!—with Lily is a result of my having insisted on our having another baby. Which turned out to be two babies.”
Elizabeth felt a tiny shiver of fear pass through her. She had thought often enough of how an unwanted child—or children—could become the focus of larger feelings of resentment. She would be lying to herself if she claimed she hadn’t considered what might have happened to Petra if Hugh, in spite of being a good person, had found out she was the child of another man.
“There’s no tactful way to put this,” she began, “so I’m just going to say it. Has Ralph ever been neglectful of the boys? Has he ever hurt them?”
“Not at all,” Cam cried. “No way. Ralph is a doting father. I trust him completely with their care. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be spending so much time with you and Petra and Jess this summer. I feel guilty about that, of course. Being away from my family. But . . .”
“In order to take proper care of others you have to first take proper care of yourself,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Not an easy lesson to learn. But I have to wonder if being apart from Ralph at this time when you’re worried that his relationship with Lily is or is becoming inappropriate is the wisest thing for you—or for your marriage.”
Cam didn’t reply for a long moment. “You mean,” she said finally, in a subdued way, “am I pushing them together by being away?”
Elizabeth recalled how Hugh had seemed to be doing just that in the long-ago summer of 1991. “It’s just a suggestion,” she said mildly.
Cam sighed deeply. “Oh, I don’t know. I never dreamed I would find myself in this sort of situation. I feel totally ill-equipped to handle it. Do I keep ignoring it, go back home and stay there, say nothing, keep smiling? Confront Ralph or Lily?”
“Not Lily,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Ultimately, this is between you and your husband.”
“You believe me when I say there’s something going on? You don’t think I’m imagining things or overreacting?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not you. You’re not the sort to create drama where there is none. That said, I really don’t think Ralph is having an affair. He might be contemplating the idea or he might be unhappy about something other than the marriage, maybe something going on at work, and for some reason he’s finding it easier to escape from his unhappiness with Lily than with you. Neither scenario is ideal, of course.”
“I know,” Cam said wearily. “And before you ask, I’ve been scrupulous about keeping my suspicions and my . . . well, my annoyance and anger with Lily to myself when I’m home. Beth adores her. I don’t want to damage or put an end to that relationship unless I absolutely have to at some point. Of course, it really bothers me that Beth never mentioned that Lily joined them at the children’s museum in Boston one Saturday when I was in Eliot’s Corner. I had to hear about that from Ralph, who mentioned it in a very awkward, overly casual way.”
“That would bother me, too,” Elizabeth admitted. “Children are sensitive to everything in their environment. And little girls can be uncanny in their ability to pick up on other people’s feelings, even if they don’t understand those feelings. If Beth is spending a lot of time with Ralph and Lily, she’s undoubtedly made note—in a six-year-old sort of way—of her father’s behavior with Lily and compared it to his behavior when he’s with you. I’m afraid that’s certain, though it needn’t become a problem as long as you take action soon.”
Cam was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, it was to change the subject. “Enough about me and my woes,” she said. “How are you feeling, Mom? What are you thinking? Everything has changed now in a way, hasn’t it?”
“I don’t know if everything has changed,” Elizabeth replied. “What happened between Chris and me, happened. All that’s different is that now you and Jess and Petra know about it. Okay, and that knowledge has put into doubt what you thought you knew or believed about your father and me.” Elizabeth sighed. “I guess you’re right after all. Everything has changed.”
“No. I was wrong. Our love for you and Dad hasn’t altered,” Cam said firmly. “That’s a fact.”
“You can speak for Jess?”
“No. But, I believe she still loves you. She’s just not the most . . . receptive person in the world. It’s like she’s a mass of sharp edges and flat surfaces. It takes time for things to find a way inside and through to her heart.” Cam laughed. “A poet I’ll never be!”
Elizabeth smiled gratefully. “I know what you mean, though.”
Beth suddenly broke away from the group of children she had been playing with at the water’s edge and came running toward them across the sand.
“Grandma!” she cried excitedly when she reached her family. “Look what I found!”
Elizabeth leaned forward to examine the object her granddaughter held in her hand. “Oh, wow. That’s a beautiful shell.”
“And there’s no chips, look. It’s perfect!” Beth turned to her mother. “Here, Mommy. It’s a gift for you.”
Cam accepted the shell and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Thank you,” she said, with a hint of tears in her voice. “It’s a very special gift, and I’ll treasure it always.”
“I’ll go find one for you, Grandma, okay?”
Before Elizabeth could reply, Beth was dashing back toward the water’s edge. Elizabeth reached for her daughter’s hand; Cam readily accepted her mother’s touch.
Chapter 45
Petra was stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling upon which ages ago her father—Hugh—had helped her to paste a sprinkling of glow-in-the-dark stars. The stars no longer glowed and had taken on a dingy look, but they were still stars.
All things changed, if only a little. Nothing stayed entirely the same. Things darkened or brightened. They began to glow or they failed to glow. Like her mother’s wedding dress, they remained intact but in tatters, whole but torn.
Much like Petra was feeling right then. In fact, it seemed that feeling disoriented, whole but torn, had become her basic state lately. Take the day before, for example. With a certain level of excitement, she had borrowed her mother’s car and set out for a highly regarded flea market. But the moment she stepped from the car in the dusty lot filled with pickups and vans of all sizes and in all sorts of conditions, she had felt intensely dispirited. The sensation was unprecedented. Still, she had made herself walk up and down the aisles of tables and booths displaying everything from rusty old farm tools to vintage Austrian crystal jewelry, from colored prints torn from books to tableware dating from the 1940s, but absolutely nothing had called out to her, not even the sorts of items that usually caught her keen attention, like caftan-style dresses, and fringed suede handbags from the seventies, and bold silver or genuine Bakelite jewelry.
Petra wasn’t about to give up on flea markets entirely, but she was bothered by her apathetic response to the stimuli that she usually found so enjoyable, even fascinating. Did her uncharacteristic reaction and general sense of things being “off” have anything to do with the fact of her just having learned that the man who raised her was not her biological father? Of course, it did. No question about it.
Tired of staring at the faded stars on her ceiling, Petra got off the bed, went across the room to her small desk, and opened her e-mail account. And there it was, a message from Christopher Ryan. Petra felt her heart begin to beat faster and realized she felt afraid. Maybe she didn’t want to read the e-mail. There was nothing to stop her from deleting it and convincing herself—maybe—that the message had never been delivered to her mailbox. Or she could simply put off opening the e-mail until she felt calmer. She was in control. Nobody was forcing her to act.
And then she opened the e-mail.
Dear Petra, it began, How good to hear from you. I think often of your parents with great fondness. Time and circumstance often draw people apart, but they can be brought back together in memory. I am happy to talk with you. In fact, I can easily come to Maine. There’s a bed-and-breakfast I have stayed at frequently, not far from Eliot’s Corner, in Lark’s Circle. Would two or three days from now work for you?
I’ll await your word.
Sincerely, Chris.
Not Mr. Ryan, as Petra had addressed her own message. Chris. Her father. One of them.
This was it; what she had wanted was happening—if she still wanted it. Petra’s heart continued to pound uncomfortably. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he would respond so quickly, and even so eagerly. It had to mean something positive. That was good. But . . .
She would reply now. The message had been sent only two hours ago. Christopher Ryan might be awaiting her response to his e-mail as tensely as she had been awaiting his response to hers.
What to say? Best, she thought, to keep it simple.
Dear Mr. Ryan. She still didn’t feel comfortable addressing him by his Christian name. Thank you for replying. If you let me know a time and location where we can meet, perhaps at a café near your bed-and-breakfast, I’ll be there. Thank you. Petra
She closed the laptop and wondered for a moment why she hadn’t written “Love, Petra,” or “Sincerely, Petra.” Well, what was done was done.
Petra wanted to let her mother know immediately, and found her in in the garage stowing a few gardening tools in a cabinet Hugh had built for that purpose.
“I heard back from Chris,” she said without preamble. “He said he’d be glad to talk with me. In fact, he offered to come to Maine to meet me in person.”
Elizabeth startled and took a step backwards. “He did? Oh. Good. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t turn you away.”
