Part 8 (1/2)

At times it left her feeling isolated. He insisted that it was more romantic that way, and he didn't want to share her. And he was so loving to her that she really couldn't complain. Whatever momentary rift had happened to them around the miscarriage was finally healed and forgotten by the end of the summer. Finn was totally the handsome prince again, and even if she hardly saw her friends all summer, she was relieved that she and Finn were closer than they had ever been. In the end, it was as though the sadness of the miscarriage had only brought them closer and made him more loving. And if she had to sacrifice seeing her Cape Cod friends for that, it was worth it. Her life with Finn, and the well-being of their relations.h.i.+p, was more important.

They went back to New York after Labor Day. Finn had an important meeting with his British publisher that he had to go back to London for. Hope stayed in New York to wrap up a few last details after the summer. She had to see her banker and lawyer, and meet with her agent before she left. She was planning to be back in Ireland by the weekend, and was going to spend September there. She didn't really have to be back in New York until November. She tried not to remember that that was when their baby would have been born. Maybe Finn was right and they would have another. Whatever G.o.d decided. She was feeling healthy again and more philosophical about it. And he hadn't mentioned the fertility doctor again since July.

When she saw Mark, he told her he had a fabulous a.s.signment for her in South America in October, and she had to admit it sounded good to her too, but she hesitated to do it. She knew Finn would be upset, and if she happened to get pregnant again, he wouldn't want her to fly, although her doctor said she could. She didn't want to risk his fury again, or a miscarriage, and she looked at Mark sadly and said she didn't think she could do it.

”What's that about?” he asked, looking unhappy.

”I just think it's the wrong time in the relations.h.i.+p for me to be flying all over the world. We're redoing the house, and Finn gets upset when I go away.” She didn't want to tell him that she'd recently been pregnant and might try again.

”I think you're making a big mistake, if you let him influence what a.s.signments you take, Hope. We're not interfering in his career, and there is no decent reason for him to interfere in yours. That's bulls.h.i.+t. How about telling him you don't want him writing a book? You both have important talents and careers. The only way it'll work between you two is if you both respect that. He can't manipulate you into not working. Or if he is, you shouldn't let him.”

”I know,” she said nervously. ”What can I tell you? He's a baby. And we're planning to get married at the end of the year. Maybe he'll calm down after that.” She hoped so, but for now he made her feel guilty every time she left him, even for work, although he insisted that he was proud of her, and respected what she did. It was confusing information, and a double message that made her feel unsure of herself and insecure.

”What if he doesn't calm down then?” Mark said, looking worried.

”We'll talk about it then. We've only been together for nine months.”

”That's my point. It's a little early for him to be f.u.c.king with your career. In fact, that should never happen.”

”I know, Mark,” she said quietly. ”He's very needy, in a funny way. He needs a lot of attention.”

”Then adopt him, don't marry him. You'd better straighten this out very soon, or you'll regret it later.” She nodded. She knew he was right, but it was easier said than done, and with the exception of his poor reaction to the miscarriage, no one had ever been more wonderful to her than Finn. And his unkindness over the miscarriage had been some kind of slip. She was convinced of it, and he had been better than ever in the months since. She was willing to adjust her work schedule for a while to suit him, and she already had three good a.s.signments lined up for November, she didn't need another one. It wasn't worth it. So she turned it down. She had done as much for Mimi when she was young. But Mimi had been her child, not a man. Hope felt that she had already lost so many people she loved in her life that she didn't want to take the chance of losing another. And maybe if she made Finn mad enough, as she had over the miscarriage, he would leave. She didn't want to risk it.

She saw Paul the day she left, and she had been planning to tell him about Finn, and that they were getting married, but he looked so sick that she didn't have the heart to tell him. She had to help him feed himself, he could hardly walk now, and he had aged twenty years in the last one. She was frightened when she saw him. He said the treatment in Germany hadn't worked for him. After that he had gone to spas, and wound up in a hospital with an infection. He was happy to be home in the States. He was on his way to Boston for treatment, and she cried on the way to the airport after she left him. It was terrible watching him slip away and he looked so frail. She was still depressed about it when she got on the plane.

She slept most of the way to Dublin, and it was early morning when she got there. Finn was waiting for her with the broad slow smile she knew so well and loved so much. The moment she saw him, she knew that all was well in their world. He drove her home to Blaxton House, and ten minutes after they got there, they were in bed. He was more pa.s.sionate toward her than ever, and more loving. They stayed in bed, whispering and talking and making love till noon, and then he took her downstairs to see how beautiful the house looked now that it had been painted. She was pouring a fortune into it, and they both agreed that it was worth it.

It felt wonderful being back there again, and she felt like the mistress of the manor. Michael was coming to visit them in a few days. And she was happy to have some time alone with Finn before that. She was beginning to think that he was right, and being alone was better. Every moment they shared was loving and romantic. It was impossible to complain about that. And by the end of the afternoon, after surveying their domain with pleasure, they walked back up the stairs hand in hand and went back to bed.

Chapter 14.

When Michael arrived, Finn went to pick him up at the airport, and Hope decided to wait at the house. She didn't want to intrude on them, they had so little time together. And she was happy to have him there. She had arranged one of the newly painted guest rooms for Michael, with an enormous bowl of yellow flowers. She'd bought some magazines in town for him, and tried to think of everything he might like. She knew how much he and Finn loved each other, after their years alone while Michael was growing up, and she was looking forward to getting to know him better. Finn was taking him to fish at the Blessington Lakes for a few days, he had made arrangements for hang gliding, and was planning to rent some horses. He wanted him to have a good time, and Hope was willing to do anything possible to help them, even if that meant keeping out of their way, but Finn had told her not to worry about it.

And this time, they were going to tell Michael about their wedding plans in December. Since it had turned out to be a winter wedding after all, Hope had agreed that it might be better in Ireland, although she also liked the idea of getting married in London, to make it easier for people like Mark to come. Finn loved the idea of doing it at the tiny church in Russborough, with a reception at the house, and said he didn't care if they did it all alone. Finn wasn't sure if Michael would come from Boston, and said it didn't matter to him. The only one important to him at the wedding was Hope. He didn't need a single other soul to be there. This was a far cry from the highly social animal she had believed him to be when they met. In reality, Finn was nearly a hermit. And the only person he wanted to be with was her. He said it was a sign of the immensity of his love for her, and she believed him. The ultimate tribute of Finn's love was that he wanted to devote every waking moment to her.

When Michael arrived from the airport with his father, he gave Hope a friendly hug, and commented on the changes in the house. He was enormously impressed.

”What happened? Did you win the lottery, Dad?” Michael teased him. There was always a faint edge to their exchanges and Michael's comments, but they were harmless. They were the kind of things said between men, one growing into power and manhood, the other trying to hold on to it for dear life. And as Hope watched them, she wondered if that was why Finn was so desperate to have a baby. It was a way of hanging on to his virility and his youth, and proving to himself and the world that he was young. Hope thought that there were other ways to prove it.

She showed Michael around, through all the changes and restorations they'd done. The painting that had been done over the summer was a vast improvement over the dingy walls. She had finally gotten rid of the rugs and had the beautiful old floors redone. It looked like the same house, but so much better, and Michael complimented her politely on everything he saw.

The two men left for the lake the next day, and were gone for three days. After that, Michael wanted his father to go to London with him for two days, and Hope stayed home to work. She didn't really get the chance to spend time with Michael until the day before he left. He had to get back to MIT for the beginning of his junior year, and Finn was in the village buying the newspaper when she sat down to breakfast with Michael. Katherine had made them both eggs, sausages, and tea, and Michael seemed to like it. He was quiet at first as they both ate their breakfast. Finn had told her that he hadn't mentioned their upcoming marriage yet, and she didn't want to be the one to do it. It wasn't her place. It was up to Finn, and she wondered when he was going to tell him. His son was leaving the next day.

”Your father misses you terribly,” she said to open a conversation with him. ”After all those years of living together, it must be a big change for you too, to be away from him.” Michael looked up from his sausages and stared at her blankly, but didn't comment. ”I'm sure all those years alone with each other made you very close.” It was a little awkward talking to him, and Michael was pleasant and polite with her, but not really chatty. She wondered if mother figures made him uncomfortable, since he hadn't had one, which made her sad for him. ”Your father has told me how much fun it was when you two lived in London and New York.” She was struggling for conversation, as Michael sat back in his chair and looked Hope in the eye.

He summed it up in one sentence for her. ”I didn't grow up with my father.” He didn't sound angry when he said it, or disappointed. He said it as simple fact, and Hope was stunned.

”You didn't? I ... he told me ... I'm sorry. I must have misunderstood.” She felt as though she sounded like a moron, and she did. Michael looked unconcerned.

”My father says a lot of things that sound good to him at the time, or make him look good. He rewrites history, like in his books. He gets confused between fact and fiction. It's just the way he is,” he said without condemnation, but it was an incredibly d.a.m.ning statement about Finn, and Hope didn't know what to say in response, nor what to think.

”I'm sure I'm the one who's confused,” she said, backing down in a panic. But they both knew she was covering up the awkward moment and making excuses for Finn.

”No, you're not,” Michael said, as he finished his sausage. ”I grew up with my grandparents in California. I hardly ever saw my father until I went to college.” That was only two years before, and that meant that their years together in London and New York were a lie, or a fabrication, or wishful thinking, or something. She didn't understand, and tried not to let Michael see how upset she was. ”I know my father cares about me, and he wants to make it up to me now, but we've been strangers for most of my life, and in some ways we still are.”

”I'm sorry,” Hope said, looking devastated. ”I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject.” She felt terrible, but the boy across the table from her didn't even look upset. He was used to Finn with all his quirks, and apparently telling stories was one of them, according to his son.

”That's why he's such a good writer. I think he actually believes the stuff he says, once he says it. From that moment on, it's true for him. It's just not true for anyone else.” He was amazingly understanding about it, and Hope couldn't help thinking that his grandparents had done a good job with him. He was a healthy, whole, sane, well-balanced young man, not because of Finn, as it turned out, but in spite of him.

”I a.s.sume these were your mother's parents?” She decided to check that out, and he nodded. ”Your mother died?”

”When I was seven,” he confirmed, fairly unemotionally, which surprised her. At least that much was true, but the rest of his childhood was a fantasy of Finn's. And then she thought of something.

”If you don't mind, Michael, I hate secrets, but I think this would be embarra.s.sing for your dad. I'd rather we not tell him we had this conversation. I don't want him to be upset at you for telling me.” But she was extremely upset herself, with good reason. It was a very important subject to lie about, the entire youth and childhood of his son, and his relations.h.i.+p with him. She wondered why Finn had done it, and had no idea how she'd ever broach the subject with him. She didn't want him to feel cornered, but she knew that at some point, they'd have to clear it up. But Michael nodded easily at her suggestion.

”This isn't the first time it's happened,” he said simply. ”My father usually tells people I grew up with him. I think it's embarra.s.sing for him to admit I didn't, and he never saw me, or not often.” She agreed with him, but still, it was disturbing. ”Don't worry about it. I'm fine. I won't say anything to him.” And almost as soon as he had said the words, Finn walked in with a broad smile. In spite of herself, Hope found herself staring at him, and then roused herself from her reverie and stood up to kiss him, but it didn't feel quite the same. She knew now that he had lied to her, and nothing would be comfortable between them until he told her why.

The three of them went to the local pub for dinner that night, and over beer Finn said something about he and Hope planning to get married sometime. Michael nodded and seemed pleased for them in a remote way. He thought Hope was a nice woman, and he didn't have a lot invested in his relations.h.i.+p with Finn, or her, and now she knew why. Finn and his son hardly knew each other, if what Michael said was true. And she had no reason to disbelieve it, it had the ring of truth when he said it. One of them was lying, and she had the sinking feeling it was Finn.

He didn't invite his son to the wedding, or even say there was one planned, and for the moment, there wasn't. But Hope had wanted a small ceremony, attended by their closest friends, and surely Finn's son. She realized then that Finn really wanted to do it alone, just as he had said. That sounded sad to her, but she didn't comment. She had very little to say that night, and she and Michael avoided looking at each other. She hugged him the next day before he left, and thanked him for coming to see them.

”I hope you come back to visit us anytime,” she said, and meant it.

”I will,” Michael said politely, and thanked her for the hospitality. Finn drove him to the airport then, and she realized how strange his visit had been. It did have the feeling of strangers or casual acquaintances getting together, and not father and son. Given what Michael had told her the day before, she was surprised that he came at all.

She was still thinking about it when Finn came back from the airport, and she looked at him strangely. Finn picked up on it and asked her what was wrong. She was about to say nothing, and then decided to be honest with him. She felt she had no other choice. She needed to know why he had told her the story he had. If she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, she had to know and believe that he was telling her the truth, and he hadn't.

”I'm sorry ...,” she said, apologizing in advance, ”I hate to bring this up, and I don't want to get Michael in trouble. We were talking yesterday and I said how much you loved him, and how much it meant to you that he grew up alone with you.” She took a breath and went on. ”And he told me he grew up with his mother's parents in California. Why didn't you tell me that before?” She looked into Finn's eyes, and he looked immediately sad.

”I know. I lied to you, Hope.” He came right out and admitted it, without stalling or hesitating. ”I felt terrible about it. I can tell from all your stories about Mimi what a wonderful mother you were to her. I didn't think that you would understand that I had given my son to my ex-wife's parents. I tried to take care of him,” he said, as he sat down with his head in his hands. They were outside, and he was sitting on the stump of the tree that had fallen, and then he looked up at her. ”I just couldn't do it. I wasn't up to it, and I knew I wasn't enough for him. They were good people and they loved him, so I let them take him. They were threatening to take me to court at the time, for their daughter's son, and I just didn't want to go through that and fight them, or put Michael through it, so I let him live with them. It was agony for me, but in the long run, I think it was better for him. He's a great kid. They did a good job.” He looked up at her miserably then. ”I thought if I told you that, you'd think less of me, and I didn't want that to happen.” He reached up and put his arms around her waist and drew her to him, as she looked down at him, in sadness for him. ”I just wanted you to love me, Hope, not disapprove of me.” He choked on a sob as he said it, and a tear rolled down his cheek. She felt terrible for him.

”I'm sorry,” she said, holding him close to her. ”You don't have to win my approval. I love you. You can tell me whatever the truth is. It would have been hard for you to bring up a child all alone.” Others had done it, but she could see how difficult it might have been for him. And she felt bad that he had felt he had to lie to her so she would love him. ”I love you, whatever you've done. Believe me, I've made my share of mistakes too.”

”I don't think so,” he said, holding her tightly, his face pressed against her stomach, and then he remembered something, and looked into her eyes. ”Aren't you supposed to be ovulating today?” She laughed, he never seemed to lose track of her cycle now, but she could better understand his desperation for a baby. He had missed all of Michael's childhood, and after what he had just said to her, she could forgive him for lying about it. Particularly since he was so remorseful once she knew the truth.

”Will you promise me something?” Hope said, and he looked at her intently. ”Whatever the truth is, just tell me. The truth is never as bad as a lie.” He nodded. ”A lie can unravel the whole tapestry of a relations.h.i.+p. The truth only hurts for a minute.”

”I know. You're right. I believe that too. It was cowardly of me.” He had lied to her twice now, once about owning the house, and now about bringing up Michael, and both times because he was embarra.s.sed by the truth. She couldn't understand it. But she felt much better having talked to him about it. He was easy to forgive, and she loved him, clay feet and all.

He stood up then, put his arms around her and held her, and then he kissed her, and then asked her about ovulating again.

”I don't know, you tell me. You seem to know better than I do. I always lose track. Maybe we should just wait until we're married. It's only a few months.” She was still disappointed that he hadn't invited Michael to the wedding, and wanted to get married alone. She had promised Mark Webber he could come, and he would be sad if he couldn't, and she would too.

”You don't have time to wait until we're married, to get pregnant,” Finn said somewhat unkindly. ”We're not getting any younger.”