A Summer Love Affair, page 33
Jess, who had been crouching, suddenly fell back onto her butt. Elizabeth smiled and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. And Petra, who truly did believe that she and her mother and sister had done something wrong, still felt the urge to laugh merrily as the butterflies in her stomach flew away.
“Grandma, what are you guys doing?”
Petra gulped. It was Beth, back from her romp with the Bauers’ puppy and staring wonderingly at the grown-ups tumbled together on the grass beneath an open window.
“We thought we saw a frog,” Elizabeth said, at the exact moment Jess said, “I lost an earring,” which was also the moment Petra said, “We were pulling weeds.”
Beth frowned. “I’m hungry. Can somebody make me a snack?” she said.
“You just finished lunch!” Jess exclaimed.
Petra scrambled to her feet and took her niece’s hand. “Let’s go inside and I’ll make you a snack. Growing up takes a lot of energy.”
“Are you grown-up?” Beth demanded.
Petra looked seriously at the little girl. “I’m really not sure,” she said.
Chapter 72
Shawcross Farm was in fact a nature preserve managed by a private trust. It featured beautiful walks along groomed trails, some of which were meant for those with hiking skills, but the majority were for the average walker. A central building housed a small natural history museum, a very nice gift shop, and a room for lectures, performances, and art exhibits.
Chris had gone back to the car to fetch his sunglasses—he claimed he was getting more forgetful by the day—and Elizabeth, standing outside the central building, was waiting patiently for him to return.
The night before, she had decided that no matter what happened between Chris and herself going forward, she would keep the old diary from the summer of 1991, honor it as a testament to a significant moment in her life, a moment when she had committed herself to an act that had resulted in, among other things, the bringing forth of a new life. What did it matter if one or all of the girls decided to read it when their mother had passed on? Every word in the diary was heartfelt, and no word was vicious or mean-spirited.
Chris came back in sight, and, as Elizabeth watched him walking toward her, she thought back to the day before her wedding to Hugh, when she had watched Chris coming toward her across the village green. Now, almost forty years later, she wasn’t scared to see him approach, and didn’t feel the urge to run away. Now, there was no need to be afraid or to run.
And yet, in a way, she still had trouble believing that Chris was real, there with her in the present, and not just a dream or a figment of her desperate imagination. She reached for his hand when he joined her; it fit so well, so easily with hers. Her hand had gotten crushed in Hugh’s loving grip. But that was the past.
“So, start with the A trail?” Chris suggested, pointing to the visitors’ map he held. “It’s considered the least difficult.”
Elizabeth agreed and they set out, a pair of binoculars hanging around Chris’s neck—he had had them since childhood, he explained—and Elizabeth wearing a backpack containing two water bottles, a handful of snack bars, and the usual odds and ends a woman tended always to have with her.
“How are the girls?” Chris asked as they walked; then, he winced. “I suppose I shouldn’t call them girls, not anymore.”
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth replied. “They’ll always be my girls, no matter how old they get! To be honest, earlier in the summer I wasn’t sure things would be okay any time soon. But Cam’s marital woes have been brought out in the open, and I foresee a fresh start for her and Ralph if they can keep talking. Jess’s career crisis led to real self-discovery, even concerning that odd relationship she was stuck in with Eddie. Now, maybe both Jess and Eddie can move on and be with someone who really loves them.”
“And Petra?” Chris asked.
Elizabeth smiled. “Since you saw her just a few days ago? Seriously though, it makes me very happy to know that Petra enjoys your company as much as she does.” Elizabeth paused. “I hope,” she went on, “that you enjoy her company, as well, that you’re not spending time with her primarily—”
“Out of a sense of duty?” Chris’s tone revealed that he had been hurt by Elizabeth’s remark.
“I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, pulling him to a stop so they could look directly at each other. “Really. I don’t know what made me say that, what made me think such a thing. I should know you better. I do know you better. Please forgive me.”
Chris smiled and squeezed her hand gently. “It’s okay. This is difficult for all of us in some ways. We’re bound to say things we don’t really mean or wish we hadn’t. Personally, this is something I never expected to happen, being together with you again. And knowing that Petra is my daughter, well, that’s wonderful, but it’s still a shock. I wake up some mornings in that sort of blank state, and in a split-second I suddenly remember that I have a child and I wonder if I’m still dreaming or if I’ve gone crazy overnight.”
Elizabeth felt reassured, and they continued to walk along through a wooded area dense with green ferns and thick, velvety moss.
“You know,” Elizabeth said musingly, “it is all strange, isn’t it? Just a little while ago, when I watched you walk across the field to where I was waiting, I remembered you crossing that village green forty years ago, and for a moment, there was no difference at all in time. It’s as if we’ve always been together and always will be, as if there’s no real past or future, only a perpetual present.” Elizabeth shook her head and laughed. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” Chris said. “But I’m not sure I have the skills to even attempt to describe the feeling!”
When they had reached what was marked on the map as the halfway point of the trail, just out of the wooded area, Chris suggested they stop and take in the view. There were three beautiful benches crafted from logs for just that purpose. From their seat, they looked out on an expansive field of grass thick with wild flowers. A bird of prey, possibly a hawk, was circling far above; a chipmunk darted in and out of cover not far from their feet. The air was still and quiet.
“I’ve been thinking,” Chris said after a few minutes. “Now that you’ve retired, however unwillingly, and are free to, well, free to pretty much do what you please—”
“Short of rampaging through Eliot’s Corner in my birthday suit and shouting fire in a crowded movie theater.”
Chris raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Yes, short of that. Anyway, would you consider our going away for a while? It needn’t be far; it could be out West. Or we could go to Europe, maybe settle for a month or two in a city or province, live like locals as much as is possible, then move on. Or come home. Whatever you’d want. As long as we can be together, have time alone at last.”
Elizabeth felt a tingle of sheer joy flow through her. Things were moving swiftly between them, but that was okay. It felt comfortable and right. Neither of them was a child. Both knew all too well that a long future wasn’t guaranteed. Carpe diem.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d consider our going away together. Rather, yes, I want us to go away together. Wherever it is. You could show me places that have been important to you in the past. We could find new places that will mean something to the both of us. Yes. I think we should do it. I’ve always wanted to travel.”
Chris beamed. “Wonderful,” he said. “There are a few loose ends I need to tie up, but it shouldn’t take long. And you’ll need to get a passport if you don’t already have one and make arrangements here, I imagine, like finding someone to check in on the house and such. We might be able to leave by mid-October if we’re lucky.”
“As long as we can agree on where to go first,” Elizabeth pointed out. “You might be sick of it, but I’ve never been to Paris, so that’s a must at some point. And I’ve always wanted to visit the Black Forest. And St. Petersburg. Maybe we could fly to Mexico to see the Incan ruins. And—”
Chris laughed. “I’m a seasoned traveler, but I am in my seventies,” he said. “One country at a time, please.”
“Okay, then. Maybe we could rent a cottage on the West Coast of Ireland. We could visit the Aran Islands and the Cliffs of Moher. And some days we could just stay put and spend the mornings taking long walks over the ruggedly beautiful landscape, and the afternoons drinking tea and reading in our cozy little cottage, and our evenings in the local pub listening to live traditional music.”
“It sounds perfect,” Chris said. “Ireland is magical. There’s a good chance you won’t ever want to leave.”
Elizabeth smiled and leaned in to kiss him. And upon their return to the States, what then, she wondered. Maybe they would buy a home together. Maybe they would marry. She believed—she knew—that they would never part again.
“How do you think the girls will feel about our going away?” Chris asked then.
“They’ll be all right,” Elizabeth assured him. “Well, Jess might grumble a bit, but that’s what she does. She might have freed herself from a dead-end relationship and decided to stay the course with her job, but she’s still my grumbling, critical-minded middle child.”
“Are you happy?” Chris asked, reaching for her hand. “Or is that a silly question?”
“Silly or not, the answer is yes. I am happy. And you?”
“Yes. I’m happier than I ever hoped to be.”
Elizabeth got to her feet, pulling Chris along with her. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s keep walking. There’s a lot still ahead of us.”
Chapter 73
Petra had asked Chris to meet her at Chez Claudine in Eliot’s Corner. He was after all a legitimate friend of the Quirk family, and, in that role, there was no reason for them not to meet for coffee and a pastry in full view of the neighbors.
“I like this place,” Chris said when they were seated with coffee and croissants. “It’s very authentic. It makes me miss Paris.”
“I’d like to travel one day,” Petra told him, dusting flaky croissant crumbs from her fingers, “really try to understand different peoples in different countries.”
“It will happen. There’s no substitute for experience, though armchair traveling through books and film is certainly better than nothing. Speaking of books, I want you to know that I’m prepared to cover your expenses during graduate school. It’s something I truly want to do. I can’t make up for the important times I missed with you, birthdays, school plays, graduations, but, well, I hope you’ll accept this gift now.”
“Thank you,” Petra said earnestly. “I will accept your gift. I mean, assuming I go ahead with—”
“Here.” Chris interrupted by handing her a folded piece of paper. “I did some investigating and came across a few respected graduate programs that will allow you to craft your own program of study to combine your interests in philosophy, literature, and history. It won’t be easy to create such a program, to find a meaningful focus, but you’d have the help of a seasoned advisor. I hope you don’t mind or think that I’m interfering. Of course, you’re free to ignore this list and conduct your own research.”
“No, I don’t mind,” Petra assured him, opening the paper and glancing at the information Chris had written down. It was the first time she was seeing his handwriting. From now on, her life would be full of firsts with her father. “Thank you, again. It all feels so overwhelming and I’m grateful for your help. It’s just that . . .”
“That what?”
Petra sighed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in school, since I’ve lived a disciplined life. Maybe I’ve permanently lost the ability to work in a really concentrated way. Maybe I won’t be able to turn away from all the distractions I’ve allowed to clutter up my life and really devote myself to my studies. Do you know how much time I spend on Instagram? Watching cat videos on Facebook? Maybe I’m just not intelligent enough to go on for another degree.”
“You are.”
“But—”
“Don’t contradict your father.” Chris smiled. “I’ve been wanting to say that since we met. Or another of those typical dad-like statements.”
Petra laughed. “Just don’t start wearing dad jeans, please.”
“That’s a promise I can keep easily,” Chris assured her. “I’ve never been into wearing jeans, even when I was a young man. Hugh used to tease me about my sartorial stuffiness.”
“Again,” Petra said, indicating the piece of paper Chris had given her, “I do really appreciate your doing this initial research for me. I wouldn’t have known where to start. But going forward, I’d . . . Please don’t take offense at this, but I’d like to keep our connection a secret. At least until I’m accepted in some program or other. If people know I’m your daughter they might assume you used your influence to get me into a good school or . . . I’m sorry.”
Chris smiled. “Don’t be sorry. I think that’s a wise decision. But I’m not planning on keeping our relationship a secret in other quarters. I’m not ashamed in the least that you’re my child, and I’m happy to let people know that I’m your father. But a revelation can wait until you’re ready. And until your mother is ready.”
Petra was deeply moved. “You’re not worried about it affecting your career, the news that you had an affair with a married woman?” she asked.
“In this insane culture where nobody in the public eye seems able to keep their clothes on for more than five minutes at a time?” Chris laughed. “What I did hardly merits a mention, not compared with what so many people get up to. Don’t worry, my career will be just fine. The work I’ve done stands for itself. Besides, I’m pretty much retired from working now. I do what I feel capable of doing, which these days is mostly advising, but my years of hectic world travel and all the turbulence that goes with globe-trotting are over. I’m glad of that. Frankly, I’m tired.”
“You’re okay though?” Petra asked. “I mean, you’re in good health?”
Chris smiled. “A few minor aches and pains but nothing major. I’ve been lucky so far. And longevity tends to run in my family, so maybe my luck will hold out.”
“Your family is my family, too,” Petra reminded him.
“Of course. And like I said before, it’s a small group. There might be a stray third or fourth cousin somewhere; if there is, I don’t know about them. But yes, your family, too.”
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Petra. “I suppose I should know about more than longevity, like if there’s a history of cancer or, I don’t know, Alzheimer’s in the family.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Chris promised. “But there’s time for that later on. I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking a drive to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens some afternoon. I haven’t been there since it first opened in 2007. I hear it’s grown enormously.”
“That sounds great. For some crazy reason, I’ve never been there, and that needs to change. Oh,” Petra said, “by the way, what’s your favorite flower? Or is that too difficult a question?”
“Not at all. Peonies, hands down.”
“Mine, too! Imagine that.” It was a minor thing. Lots of people loved peonies, and those people had nothing to do with Petra Quirk and she had nothing to do with them. A love of a particular flower wasn’t, as far as Petra knew, an inherited preference. But the fact that she and her father shared that preference felt nice. It felt more than nice.
“Sadly, peony season is over,” Chris went on, “but we can plan to attend a peony festival or two next June, maybe the one at the Maine Audubon nature preserve in Falmouth.”
Next June. Her father was looking ahead, making plans for them to spend more time together. “That sounds great,” Petra said. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter 74
“So, as soon as I’ve got a passport,” Elizabeth explained, “and made some arrangements here, and as soon as Chris has taken care of loose ends regarding his current projects, we’ll be off. We’ve decided to go to Ireland, with an open-ended ticket. Next year, who knows?”
Elizabeth hadn’t expected a universal cheer to erupt at her announcement, but she had hoped for a more energetic response than the silence that met her. Petra, to Elizabeth’s right, looked down at her lap. Cam, who was sitting across the little outdoor table from her mother, wore a slightly strained smile. Jess, sitting to Elizabeth’s left, was frowning.
“When, exactly, are you planning to leave?” Cam asked after a moment.
“Like I said,” Elizabeth replied, “as soon as we’ve got our ducks in a row, probably by mid-October.”
“This running off together concerns me, Mom,” Jess said in that crisp tone of voice she hadn’t given up in spite of her avowed desire to change and become less wound up. “I mean, how well do you really know Chris? Until this summer, you hadn’t seen or even spoken to him in thirty years. He could be a cad for all we know! I mean—”
Petra finally looked up. “Jess, that’s enough,” she said, calmly and firmly. “Be reasonable. You’re forgetting that I’ve spent hours with Chris this summer, and I’m a pretty good judge of character. Chris Ryan is a good man, and he’s my father. He loves Mom and Mom loves him. And they’re not ‘running off’ together. There’s nothing secret or clandestine about it. I’m sure they’ll give us an itinerary if we ask for one, and we can all keep in touch via FaceTime or whatever.”
“Petra is right,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not as if I’m going into the abyss. And there’s nothing to say that one or all of you can’t pop over to visit us. We could plan a week together somewhere, maybe London or Edinburgh.”
Cam took a drink from her glass of iced tea before saying: “I’ll admit this news comes as a bit of a surprise, not that it should, not after everything that’s happened this summer. But I think we owe it to Mom to trust in her intelligence and good sense. And I, for one, might just take you up on that idea of meeting you and Chris for a wee vacation. Ralph and I could use a romantic getaway.”
