A Summer Love Affair, page 27
Petra shook her head. “I just thought of something else. What if one of the reasons Dad kind of put me down all the time about my ‘thinking too much’ was because I reminded him of you, the friend he had lost to a world that to him was so foreign, the life of the mind as he saw it? I’m not saying he suspected I wasn’t his biological daughter, but that maybe . . . Maybe on some subconscious level he was punishing you for what he saw as you leaving him behind by trying to discourage me from going in the same direction? Is that crazy?”
“No, it’s not crazy,” Chris assured her. “Unfortunately, we’ll never know what Hugh was thinking or feeling, but whatever that was, it can’t be allowed to stand in the way of your living your life in the way you want to live it.”
“I know,” Petra admitted. “It’s just—I’m scared.”
“Maybe being scared can morph into being excited.”
“Maybe you can help me with that.”
“I’ll do my best,” Chris promised. “And a bit of fear can be a good thing. It gets the adrenaline going, at the very least.”
“Still, I don’t like feeling scared.”
Chris laughed. “Then you’re a very normal person. How about we get something to eat? All this walking in circles has made me hungry.”
“Yes, please.” Petra smiled. “You should probably know that I’m always hungry.”
“Then you are most definitely my daughter.”
Chapter 59
Elizabeth was feeling good about the relationship that was developing between Petra and her father. After her second meeting with Chris, Petra had admitted to feeling unhappy and unsettled, but after the third afternoon she had spent with him, the negative feelings had been dispatched, and Petra believed she had experienced a sort of personal breakthrough. She felt that she was beginning to see a way into her future, beginning to define a purpose.
That was indeed good news, but Elizabeth had refrained from asking Petra for details. She was worried that she had been a pest since father and daughter had met. Still, Petra hadn’t once complained about her mother’s inquisitiveness. And if she was holding certain things back, that was her right.
Perhaps the most important bit of information Petra had shared was that there had been no other woman in Chris’s life since Elizabeth. “I believed him,” Petra told her mother. “I mean, why would he lie? Anyway, he doesn’t seem like a liar. Neither do you. You never have. It must have been really difficult to keep your relationship a secret, totally against your natures.”
Elizabeth had been so grateful for Petra’s kind words and the depth of understanding behind them. And she had felt an undeniable thrill knowing now for sure that no other woman had replaced her in Chris’s heart. If that thrill was tempered by concern that Chris had lived a lonely life in the past thirty years, well . . .
Now, Elizabeth opened her laptop and logged into her e-mail account. The only message of any interest was from a travel company for single women she had discovered a few months back, before she had told her children about her affair. The fact was that she was financially secure enough to travel in some style, and for the first time in many years she had no major commitments to keep her in Eliot’s Corner day after day. Tour groups were an obvious option, but so was travel on her own. There was something very tempting about being in a position to determine the direction of one’s own wanderings. No partner—or fellow tour group members—with whom to negotiate a destination or the sort of accommodation they would occupy or the type of food they would have for their dinner. Tropical island or large metropolis. Airbnb or high-end hotel. Haute cuisine or street food. On her own, she could seek out unusual exhibits in local museums. On her own she could wander crooked cobblestoned streets and charming little alleys for hours on end. On her own she could eat whenever, wherever, and whatever she wanted to.
This current message from Women on the Road featured several photos of destinations to which the company was offering tours in the fall and spring: Provence, Tuscany, Lisbon. The photos were enticing, as were the testimonials given by women who had traveled with the company, yet Elizabeth still couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to make a commitment to a journey of adventure.
The thought had flitted across her mind again the night before as she was getting ready for bed that she might be holding back on making plans because of Chris. After all the years since the end of their affair, could she possibly be counting on him to come back into her life and sweep her off her feet? After all the years of residing under—and often resenting and resisting—Hugh’s old-fashioned male dominance, was it possible that she was falling back into the trap of waiting for, of hoping for a man to rescue her, to give her a life she was too timid to create for herself?
If that was the truth, then she was in trouble.
But was it the truth? Why was it so hard to be honest with herself? Did she really want to see Chris? Was she truly ready for a reunion, no matter the result? Did she have the courage to call him, send him an e-mail or a letter? And if the answer to these questions was yes, what was the genuine motive behind that yes? How much of her intention was about Chris and what might be best for him, and how much was about her, about what she wanted? How much could be put down to altruism and how much to selfishness?
Petra, Elizabeth knew, would approve if she did reach out to Christopher; Petra had made that very clear. She might not cherish hopes that her parents would reunite after thirty years apart, but she would very much like them to be on good terms.
Elizabeth shut her computer and grimaced. To be tormented in this almost adolescent way at her age was an embarrassment, even if she was the only one to know what was going through her heart and mind. Did people ever truly grow up and leave the desire for romance behind? Or was everyone potential prey to desire, to the need for intimate recognition, until the very end of their lives?
At the moment, Elizabeth thought, she would rather not know the answer to those questions. Instead, she went into her favorite search engine and typed the words: essential sights for a weekend in Paris.
A little research couldn’t hurt.
Chapter 60
Summer 1991
“We can’t go on doing this,” Elizabeth said.
“I know.”
“I’ve never been more miserable in my life. And yet, just weeks ago I was never happier.”
“I know. I feel the same way.”
Elizabeth sat hunched in one corner of the couch in the living area of Chris’s little cottage. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her head ached. Chris sat at the other end of the couch, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
She should, she supposed, be happy. Hugh had been declared cancer-free. The scare had been just that, a scare, though one that had deeply rattled Hugh, Elizabeth, and Chris. Of course, Hugh had no idea that Chris knew of his health scare. If Hugh had known, he might very well have wondered why his wife had spoken, even to his dearest friend, when they had agreed to “keep things quiet.”
“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth whispered. “How did this happen to us? How could something so beautiful and wonderful and real have become . . .”
“Our love is still all of those things.” Chris’s voice was rough with emotion. “Don’t think otherwise.”
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. “Poor timing? An ill-fated romance? Oh, God, what a nightmare. What a clichéd nightmare.”
She turned to Chris and saw him flinch. Her words had hurt him. She hadn’t meant them to hurt.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “None of this is your fault. You’ve been nothing but—”
“What have I been?” Chris interrupted. “Good? Honest? Heroic? I’ve been none of those things! A coward? Yes. I’m the one at fault, Elizabeth. I’m the one who should feel guilty, and I do feel guilty, terribly so.”
Elizabeth pushed herself up from the couch. “Oh, this is ridiculous! We’re both to blame! We should have ended this weeks ago, we should never have allowed this to happen in the first place, we should . . .”
“We should part now before we come to hate each other.”
Elizabeth felt the words as a slap. “That’s not possible,” she cried. “I could never hate you! And you . . .”
Chris now rose. “I’m sorry. I could never hate you, either. Of course, I couldn’t. But you’re right; we have to end this relationship. What we’re doing to Hugh is . . .”
“You know I can’t leave him. I’m scared to leave him.”
“Yes. I know. So . . .”
Elizabeth sighed and put a hand to her aching head.
“Hugh wants the three of us to go out to dinner. But you’ll have to tell him you can’t, that you’ll be out of town or something.”
“Yes.”
“And I think it’s best . . . I think you should . . .”
“I’ll absent myself from the friendship. Slowly, kindly, but I’ll stay away from your family.”
Elizabeth felt her knees begin to wobble. “I think it’s the only way I can go on,” she said hoarsely. “And we, you and I . . .”
“We won’t speak again, unless you want to. I promise.”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what has to be.”
Suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, holding on more tightly than they ever had, for one last moment. And then, that last moment came to an end, and Elizabeth, still trembling, ran from Christopher Ryan’s cottage.
She didn’t look back. She knew what looking back would cost her.
She managed to drive on a mile or two before she had to pull off the road, too distraught to continue. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and moaned. Would she really never feel Chris’s lips on hers, or the touch of his hand on the small of her back? Would she really never be allowed to gaze into his eyes as they lay together in his bed? So much loss! How would she ever bear so much loss?
Maybe, she wouldn’t have to. She could turn the car around, drive back to the cottage, tell Chris she had been wrong, tell him that she would leave Hugh, let Hugh have the children if he demanded them, walk away and . . .
No.
Just a dream.
Eventually, Elizabeth raised her head. She wondered if she had been seen by anyone passing, a woman in distress, alone in her car, sobbing. What did it matter now if she had been seen? What did it matter if someone went to Hugh, told him he had seen his wife on the side of a lonely road out in the middle of nowhere, her head on the steering wheel of her car?
It didn’t matter, because in some very important way, her life was over. Oh, she would go on, day to day, week to week, year after year, God willing. For the sake of her children, if not for her own sake. But going on wasn’t living.
Not really.
Elizabeth wiped her eyes one last time, started the car again, and headed back to her very nice house and to her loving family on Lavender Lane.
Chapter 61
Summer 2022
Cam had brought a foldable chair from the house. Jess and Petra preferred to sit on the beach blanket that had been in use in the Quirk family since Petra’s childhood. The blanket was almost threadbare, but Petra couldn’t imagine anyone in her family wanting to throw it in the garbage and replace it with something pristine.
The cooler, though, was fairly new, bought since Hugh Quirk’s passing. At the moment, it was stocked with reusable bottles of water; chunks of watermelon and green grapes in plastic containers; and a bag of sea salt and vinegar flavored potato chips. In Petra’s opinion, no outing to the beach was complete without a bag of chips.
“Did I forget the napkins?” Cam wondered, rummaging in her voluminous striped canvas bag. “Nope, here they are.”
“Remember how when we were kids we wiped our dirty, sticky hands on the blanket and Mom would scold us?” Jess smiled. “Good ole blanket. It’s no worse for wear in spite of sticky fingers.”
“Are you really oblivious to the stains and holes?” Cam asked with a smile. “Or do you find the flaws charming?”
Petra only half listened to her sisters’ good-natured banter. Her plan was to tell them about her new relationship with Chris. She was a bit nervous about the reception her news would receive but not concerned about her ability to handle any possible criticism. Petra felt bolstered by her growing relationship with Christopher Ryan. She felt as if she had found a genuine ally.
“I’ve met with Chris Ryan,” she announced. “My father. Actually, I’ve seen him three times in the past weeks.”
“And you’re only telling us now?” Cam asked, turning to look at her sister, her eyes wide. Petra thought she sounded hurt.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to see how things went before I let you know. If Chris had been dismissive or angry, I might never have told you. But he hasn’t been either of those things. He’s been nothing but kind and receptive.”
“Yeah, but is he being honest?” Jess snapped. “He’s lied before.”
Cam sighed. “Jess, be quiet. Just let Petra talk.”
This was exactly what Petra had expected, Jess’s negative attitude.
“Sorry,” Jess said, her face still marred by a frown. “So, it must have been pretty weird meeting him that first time.”
Petra laughed. “Uh, you could say that. But at the same time, it felt totally natural.”
“Weird and natural? Yeah, that sounds healthy.”
“Wait, when you first met did he know you were his daughter?” Cam asked.
“No. I had reached out to him,” Petra explained, “saying I was Elizabeth’s youngest child and asking if we could talk, maybe meet. He responded pretty quickly and said yes to both.”
“No questions, like why are you contacting me and why now?” Jess asked.
“Nope. But it turns out he had guessed it had something to do with my knowing about the affair. He came up to Maine—it was his suggestion—and we met at a café in Lark’s Circle where he stays when he visits the area. I told him then that we all knew about his relationship with Mom, and that I was his daughter.”
“Just like that?” Jess said. “I have to hand it to you, Petra. That took courage. So, how did he react? Was it a big dramatic scene? Tears and wailing and breast-beating?”
Petra rolled her eyes. “Not quite. That’s not Chris’s style. Like I said, he knew that some sort of revelation was coming.”
“So, how will this change things for you?” Cam asked. Her genuine concern was clear. “I mean, will you go on seeing him once he goes back to Boston—if that’s where he still lives—and his . . . I was going to say when he goes back to his life. But you are his life now, a big part of it.”
Petra nodded. “Oh yes, we fully intend to keep the relationship alive. Honestly, I know it hasn’t been long since we found each other, Chris and I, but our relationship feels essential to me. In a way, I’m already relying on him, not for day-to-day things, but for—I can’t put it into words.”
“Just be careful,” Cam said gently. “None of us wants to see you get hurt. He might not feel as strongly about your relationship as you do. At least, not yet.”
“What does Mom think about all this? I mean, is she going to start seeing him again? Does he want her back in his life, too?” Jess frowned. “A little, ready-made family of his own after all those years of bachelorhood?”
“Jess, don’t,” Cam said angrily.
Jess shrugged but didn’t apologize.
Petra felt sorry for Jess; it couldn’t be easy facing the world with such a suspicious, cramped attitude. “I don’t know what will happen between Mom and Chris, if anything. I’m trying to stay away from that issue. I mean, it’s up to them if they want to resume their friendship—”
“Or something more,” Jess put in.
“Or something more. And I have absolutely no need for my birth parents to reunite, though of course I’d like it if they were on good terms. I’m an adult. I had a good father in Hugh. I’d be content to enjoy my own relationship with Chris, in whatever form that takes, aside from any relationship he and Mom might decide on.”
“No awkward family dinners at the holidays? Good. I’m still not sure I want to know this guy.”
“That’s your call, Jess,” Petra said calmly, though her sister’s attitude had worn on her nerves. Petra had never been Eddie’s biggest fan, but at times she felt sorry for the guy, living with her prickly, judgmental sister. How did he do it? Did he simply ignore her? That couldn’t be easy.
Suddenly, Cam rose from her chair. “Gosh, it’s hot. I’m going in for a swim. Anyone want to join me?”
“I will.” Jess leapt to her feet and began to stride down to the surf.
Cam smiled down at Petra. “You okay?”
Petra nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Thank you for telling us.”
Petra watched her sisters at the water’s edge, wading in up to their knees, then further. She loved them both deeply if not in every way equally. And she would very much like it if one day she could share them with Chris. But only time would tell. Both women had a lot on their minds right now, their own crises to resolve.
Cam turned to look back at Petra and waved. Petra smiled and waved back, just as both Cam and Jess dived into the surf.
Chapter 62
Elizabeth was downtown for the sole purpose of visiting Motifs, a shop that sold locally made, all-natural lotions and creams for dry and troubled skin. She had met the women who produced the stuff, a married couple in their forties, back when they started their business, selling their products at a weekly farmers’ market. Since then the business had grown remarkably, and now the products were sold in several stores in and around Eliot’s Corner. Though not inexpensive, the Misty Morning line was worth every penny as far as Elizabeth was concerned.
She was just leaving Motifs, having successfully made her purchases, when she spotted Arden Bell across the street, looking particularly glowing and youthful in a rosy pink blouse over pistachio-green linen pants. Lately, Arden’s wardrobe had become more colorful and playful; Elizabeth thought that the look suited her.
