Safe Harbour

“That would be interesting. It's amazing how many lost people you see now on the streets, even in France, not just here. It's a problem all around the world.” They talked about homelessness for a while then, and the political and economic issues they both felt had caused it. For the moment at least, the problem seemed insoluble, but it made for an interesting conversation between the two of them, and it was obviously far more adult than the things he discussed with Pip, while he taught her to draw. He liked both of them, and felt lucky that their paths had crossed and he had met them both.

Ophélie got up eventually, and said she had to get back, and he told her to say hello to Pip for him, and then she had a thought.

“Why don't you do that yourself?” She smiled. She had enjoyed the time she'd spent talking to him, and she wasn't sorry she had told him about Chad. It was an insight into Pip as well for him, she liked him so much, it seemed important to Ophélie to let him know how brave her daughter had been, how much she'd been through, and what she had lost. Heavy baggage for a child to carry, and for Ophélie too, and he had his too, far more than she knew. At a certain age, no matter who it was, people had baggage and wounds and scars and lives that had hurt or sometimes even broken them. No one ever went unscathed, sometimes even a child Pip's age. Ophélie liked to think that it would make Pip stronger in the end, and more caring perhaps, she just wasn't sure anymore what it would do to her. The pattern of scars on anyone's soul determined who they were. Sometimes it enriched the spirit, and sometimes it broke it. The secret of life seemed to be surviving the damage, and wearing the scars well. But in reality, no heart went unscathed. Life itself was all too real. And in order to love someone, whether lover or friend, one had no choice but to be real.

“I'll give Pip a call,” Matt said in response to what she'd said. He felt badly that he hadn't called yet. But he didn't want to intrude on Ophélie.

“Why don't you come to dinner tonight? The food is terrible, but I know she'd enjoy seeing you, and so would I.” It was the nicest invitation he'd had in years, and he smiled.

“I'd like that. Are you sure it's not too much trouble?”

“On the contrary. We'd love it. In fact, I think I'll keep it a surprise for Pip, if you can come. How about seven o'clock?” The invitation was entirely innocent and ingenuous. She liked talking to him, just as Pip did.

“That sounds perfect. Can I bring anything? Pencils? Wine? An eraser?” She laughed at him, but it gave him an idea.

“Just bring yourself. Pip will be thrilled.” He didn't add “me too,” but he wanted to, and felt like a kid. They were nice people, two very nice people, who'd survived an incredible lot of heartache, tragedy, and grief. He had all the more respect for both of them the more he knew, especially after today. What she had told him about her son sounded like an agonizing ordeal.

“See you later, then,” he said with a smile, and she waved as she headed back up the beach, and as he watched her, he couldn't help thinking again how much she reminded him of Pip.

7

PIP WAS LYING ON THE COUCH LOOKING BORED, WITH her foot on a pillow, when the doorbell rang. Ophélie went to answer it, she knew who it would be. He was right on time, and when she opened the door, Matt was standing there in a gray turtleneck and jeans, holding a bottle of wine. Ophélie put a finger to her lips and pointed toward the couch. And with a broad smile, he walked in. And when Pip saw him, she squealed with delight and hopped off the couch on one foot.

“Matt!” She looked from him to her mother, immensely pleased, with no idea how the surprise had come about. “How did… what …” She was delighted and confused.

“I ran into your mom on the beach today, and she was nice enough to invite me to join you for dinner. How's the foot?”

“Really dumb. It's a stupid foot, and I'm tired of it. I miss drawing with you.” She had done a lot of sketches on her own, but she was getting tired of that too, and felt as though her newfound skills had regressed. She had had trouble with the hind section on a drawing of Mousse just that afternoon. “I forgot how to do back legs.”

“I'll show you again,” and as he said it, he handed her a brand-new sketch pad, and a box of colored pencils he had found in a drawer. It was just what the doctor ordered, and she pounced on them with glee.

As they chatted, Ophélie set the table for the three of them, and opened the bottle of very nice French wine. Although she seldom drank, it was one that she liked and reminded her of France.

She had put a chicken in the oven, and in a very short time, cooked some asparagus and wild rice, and made hollandaise. It was the most elaborate culinary effort she'd made in a year. And she'd enjoyed doing it.

Matt was impressed when they sat down to dinner, and so was Pip. She laughed at her mom.

“No frozen pizza tonight?”