Safe Harbour

“Pip, please! Don't give away all my secrets.” Ophélie smiled at her.

“It's the mainstay of my diet too. That and instant soup.” Matt grinned. He looked handsome and well groomed as he sat with them, there was a faint whiff of male cologne, and more than anything, he looked fresh and wholesome and real. Ophélie had combed her hair for him, and was wearing a black cashmere sweater and jeans. She hadn't worn makeup or color all year and didn't tonight. She had been wearing formal mourning for Ted and Chad. But for the first time, she wondered if she should have at least put on lipstick. She hadn't even brought any to the beach. It was all in a drawer somewhere at home. For the last ten months, she hadn't cared if she never wore it again. It seemed irrelevant now. Or had, until tonight. Not that she was wooing him, but she at least felt like looking like a woman again. The robot she had become in the past year was slowly coming back to life.

The three of them enjoyed a lively conversation through dinner. They talked about Paris, and art, and school. Pip said she wasn't looking forward to going back. She was turning twelve in the fall and entering seventh grade. And when asked, she told Matt she had a lot of friends, but she felt weird with them now. A lot of her friends' parents were divorced, but no one had lost a father. She didn't want people to feel sorry for her, and she knew some of them did. She said she didn't want them to be “too nice,” because it made her sad. She didn't want to feel different. And he knew it was inevitable that she would. “I can't even go to the father-daughter dinner,” she said plaintively. “Who would I take?” Her mother had thought of it too, and had no solution to the dilemma. She had taken Chad once when her father couldn't go. But now she couldn't take him either.

“You can take me, if you want,” Matt offered sincerely, and then glanced at Ophélie. “If your mother doesn't object. There's no reason why you can't take a friend, unless you can take your mom. You could do that too, you don't have to follow the rules. A mom is as good as a dad.”

“They won't let you do that, someone else tried last year,” which seemed pathetically limited to him. But she looked delighted at the prospect of taking Matt, and her mother nodded approval.

“That would be very nice of you, Matt,” she said quietly, and then brought out dessert. All they had was ice cream in the freezer, and she had melted some chocolate and poured it on the vanilla bean ice cream Pip loved. It had been Ted's favorite too. She and Chad were addicted to Rocky Road. It was odd how even favorite ice cream flavors were sometimes dictated by genes. She had noticed that before.

“When is the father-daughter dinner?” Matt inquired.

“Sometime before Thanksgiving.” Pip looked thrilled.

“Tell me when, and I'll be there. I'll even wear a suit.” He hadn't done that in years either. He lived in jeans and old sweaters, and the occasional worn tweed jacket left over from the old days. He didn't need suits anymore. He didn't go anywhere, and hadn't had or wanted a social life in years. Once in a while, an old friend came over from the city to have dinner with him, but less and less. He had been out of the loop for a long time, and liked it that way. He was enjoying being a recluse. And no one argued with him about it anymore. They just figured that was who he was, and had become.

Pip stayed and chatted with them until long after her bedtime, and finally she began to yawn. She said she could hardly wait to get her stitches out at the end of the week, but was annoyed that she would have to wear shoes on the beach for another week afterward.

“Maybe you could ride Mousse,” Matt teased, and she came back in her pajamas a few minutes later to say goodnight to them both. They were sitting on the couch, and Matt had lit a fire. It was a warm, cozy scene, and Pip looked happy when she left them and went to bed, happier than she had been in a long time. And so did Ophélie. There was something very comfortable about having a man around. His male presence seemed to fill the entire house. Even Mousse looked up from time to time, and wagged his tail, where he lay by the fire.

“You're very blessed,” he said quietly to Ophélie, after she had gently closed Pip's door so they didn't keep her up. The house had only a large living room, an open kitchen and dining room, and their two bedrooms. It all seemed to blend together, no one wanted privacy or grandeur at the beach. But the decor was very nice. The owners had some lovely things, and some very handsome modern paintings, which Matt said he liked. “She's a terrific kid.” He was crazy about her, and she always reminded him of his own. But he wasn't even sure his own children would have been as open, as wise, or as adult. And he had no idea who they were now. They were Hamish's now, and no longer his. Sally had seen to that.