Once in a Lifetime (13 page)

"Damn you!" she shouted into the mauve and orange sky. "Damn you! Why'd you have to do it?" She stood there for a long time, her tears flowing freely as the sky grew dark, and then wiping her cheeks on the sleeves of the logger's shirt she wore, she nodded. "Okay, my friend. Okay. We'll make it. Just remember that I loved you." And then, still crying, she looked at where the sun had been on the hills a little while before and whispered, "Good-bye," and then with her head bowed, she walked home.

Daphne woke before dawn the next morning, lying on the bed that suddenly seemed too large as she slept in it alone. She lay there, thinking about John and remembering their early mornings, side by side, and often their bodies joined as one before the dawn.

She lay there as the sun crept slowly through the windows, feeling leaden, wanting never to get up again. There was none of the horror and the panic she had felt when Jeff had died. There was only emptiness and loss, an abysmal kind of sorrow that weighed on her like her own tombstone as she ran the fingers of her mind over the wound again and again and again ... the words ran rhythmically through her mind ... John is dead ... is dead ... is dead. ... I'll never see him again ... never see him .... and the worst of it was that neither would Andrew. How would she tell him?

It was almost noon when she forced herself out of bed at last, and she was dizzy for a moment when she stood up. There was a sick, empty feeling, born of not having eaten anything at all since the previous morning, and she could eat nothing now as the same words continued to echo in her head ... John is dead ... John is dead. ...

She stood in the shower for half an hour, staring into space as the water beat down on her like angry rain, and it took her almost an hour after that to put on a pair of jeans, a shirt of John's, and a pair of shoes. She stared into their closet as though it held a lifetime of precious secrets, but she had been through this once before and could not let it demolish her again. When Jeff had died, the knowledge that she carried their unborn child had eventually pulled her through, but she wouldn't have that this time, the miracle of life to counterbalance death. What she had this time was Andrew himself. She knew she had to find her way to him now, for his sake and her own. She still had him.

She drove to the school, looking dazed and still feeling numb and strange, and it was only when she saw him happily playing with a ball that she began to cry again.

She stood watching him for a long time, trying to sift through her thoughts, and stop the tears, but they wouldn't stop now, and finally he turned and saw her, frowned, and dropped his ball, and walked slowly toward her, a worried frown in his eyes. She sat down on the grass and held out her arms toward him, smiling through her tears. He was the center of her life now, as he had always been.

"Hi," she signed to him, once he sat beside her.

"What's wrong?" All the love and protection they felt for each other was mirrored in his eyes.

There was an endless pause as she felt her hands shake. She couldn't bring herself to make the signs.

At last she did. "I have something very sad to tell you."

"What?" He looked surprised. She had sheltered him from all sorrows and disasters, and there had been none like this in his lifetime. But there was no way to keep this from him. The boy had grown very close to John. Daphne's chin trembled and her eyes filled as she put her arms around her son, and then released him to sign the words she dreaded. "John died while we were away, sweetheart. He had an accident. I found out yesterday and we won't see him again."

"Forever?" Andrew's eyes grew wide in disbelief.

She nodded and signed back. "Forever. But we'll remember him forever, and love him, just like I do your Dad."

"But I don't know my Dad." The small hands trembled as they signed. "And I love John."

"So do I." The tears rolled down Daphne's face again. "So do I...." And then, "And I love you too." They clung to each other then as the small child began to sob, great gulping broken sounds that tore at her heart as they held each other close. It seemed hours before either of them was ready to let go. They took a walk then, in silence, hand in hand, and every now and then Andrew would sign something about John, the things they had done, the way he had been. It struck Daphne again how remarkable it had been that the big woodsman had so captivated her son without a single word. He hadn't been a man who needed words. There was some rare and powerful essence within that transcended all else, even Andrew's handicap and Daphne's fears.

It surprised her when Andrew asked her later, "Will you stay here without him, Mom?"

"Yes. I'm here for you, you know." But they both knew that for the past six months that hadn't been entirely true. Andrew had gotten more and more independent and Daphne had stayed in New Hampshire because of John. But she couldn't leave now. Andrew needed her, and more than ever, she needed him.

The remaining weeks of the summer crawled by, as Daphne ached silently for John. She stopped crying after a while, and she no longer wrote in her journals. She barely touched food, and she saw no one, except Andrew. It was Mrs. Obermeier who finally stopped by, and was aghast at what she saw. Daphne had lost twelve pounds from her tiny frame, her face was anguished and drawn, and the old Austrian woman took her in her arms, but even then Daphne didn't cry, she simply stood there. She was beyond pain, she was simply hanging on to survival, and she wasn't even sure why, except for Andrew. Even he didn't really need her now. He had the school, and Mrs. Curtis had suggested that she cut back her visits.

"Why don't you go back to New York?" Mrs. Obermeier suggested over a cup of tea Daphne barely drank. "To your friends. It is too hard for you here. I can see that." Daphne knew it too, but she didn't want to go back. She wanted to stay in the cabin forever, with his clothes, with his boots, with his smell, with his aura around her. He had long since given up his own apartment before he died.

"I want to be here."

"It's not good for you here, Daphne." The wise old woman sounded firm. "You can't hold on to the past." Daphne wanted to ask her why not, but she already knew all those answers. She had been through it before. But it only made it that much worse this time.

Her story came out in Collins in October, and Allison sent her a complimentary copy with a note. "When the hell are you coming back? Love, Allie." In Daphne's mind, the answer was never. But at the end of the month she got a note from her landlord in Boston. Her lease was up, and the cabin had been sold. They wanted her out by the first of November.

She no longer had the excuse that there was someone in her apartment in New York. Her tenant had moved out on the first of October. Which left her nowhere to go except to New York. She could have found another cabin or apartment where she was, but it didn't make much sense. She was only seeing Andrew once a week, and he barely paid any attention to her. He was more and more self-reliant now and Mrs. Curtis had recently pointed out that it was time he turn his full attention to the school. In some ways Daphne's visits held him back, allowing him to cling to her. But in truth, it was Daphne clinging to him.

She packed all her things, as well as John's, put them on a bus to New York, and stared around the cabin for a last time, feeling a terrible catch in her throat as a terrible sound finally escaped her. The sobs wracked her for an hour as she sat on the couch, crying into the silence. She was alone. John was gone. Nothing would bring him back. He was gone forever. She closed the door softly behind her, and leaned her face against it for a moment, feeling its wood on her cheek, remembering all the moments they had shared, and then she walked slowly away to her car. She had given John's truck to Harry.

At the school Andrew was busy with activities and friends. She kissed him good-bye, and promised to come back in a few weeks for Thanksgiving. She would stay at the Austrian Inn now, like the other parents. Mrs. Curtis made no mention of John as Daphne left, although she had known him and was very sorry.

The drive to New York took seven hours, and there was no thrill for Daphne as she drove into town and caught the first glimpse of the Empire State Building. It was a city she didn't want to see, a place she didn't want to come home to. There was no home left. There was only an empty apartment.

The apartment was in decent shape. The tenant had left it clean, and she sighed as she tossed her suitcase onto the bed. Even here there were ghosts. There was Andrew's empty room to contend with, the games he no longer played, the books he no longer read. He had taken all the treasures he loved most to the school with him, and the rest he had outgrown.

And Daphne felt as though she had outgrown the apartment too. It had a dreary city look to it, which depressed her after months of living in the cabin, looking out over the New Hampshire hills. Here there was only a view of 'other buildings, a tiny kitchen totally unlike the cozy one she had grown used to, a living room with curtains that had grown dingy, an old rug too well worn by Andrew's toys, and furniture that was beginning to show signs of nicks and chips. Once, she had cared so much about it, wanting to make it a happy, cheerful home for herself and her son. Now, without him, it had no meaning. She cleaned the rug the first weekend she was home, and changed the curtains, bought some new plants, but for the rest she simply didn't care. She spent most of her time out walking, getting used to New York again, and avoiding going home to the apartment.

It was actually a beautiful time of year, the best possible in New York, but even the cool, golden sunny weather didn't cheer her. She didn't give a damn, and there was something dead in her eyes as she got up every morning and wondered what to do with herself. She knew she should go out and look for a job, but she didn't want to. She still had enough money to live for a while without working, and she told herself that after the first of the year she would think about it. She stuck her manuscript in a desk drawer and she didn't even bother to call her old boss, Allie. But she ran into her one day in a store downtown, where she looking for pajamas for Andrew. He had grown two full sizes in the past year, and Mrs. Curtis had sent her a list of what he needed.

"What are you doing here, Daff?"

"Shopping for Andrew." She sounded matter-of-fact, but she looked worse than she had the year before, and Allison Baer couldn't help wondering what in hell had happened to her.

"Is he all right?" There was worry in her eyes.

"He's fine."

"Are you?"

"Pretty much."

"Daphne"--her old friend touched her arm, concerned by what she saw--"you can't hold on to the child forever." Was it possible that she was grieving to that extent, from leaving the child at the school? It just wasn't healthy.

"I know. He's fine. He really loves it."

"And you? When did you get back?"

"A couple of weeks ago. I meant to call, but I've been busy."

"Writing?" Allie looked hopeful.

"Not really." She didn't even want to think about that now. That was all part of her life with John, and it was over. As far as she was concerned, so was her writing.

"What ever happened to that book you said you were writing, and promised to send me? Did you finish it yet?"

She wanted to say no, but somehow she didn't.

"Yes. I finished it this summer. But I didn't know what to do next. I meant to call you about finding an agent."

"Well?" Everything about Allison rang out with the staccato of New York, and Daphne just didn't feel up to it. She was already exhausted after five minutes. "Can I see it?"

"I suppose so. I'll drop it off."

"How about lunch tomorrow?"

"I don't think I can ... I ..." She looked away, unnerved by the crowds in the store, and the pressure of Allie.

"Look, Daff." She gently took hold of Daphne's arm. "Speaking bluntly, you look worse than you did when you left last year. In fact, you look like shit. You have to pull yourself together. You can't avoid people for the rest of your life. You lost Jeff and Aimee, Andrew is all squared away in that school, for chrissake, you have to do something with yourself. Let's have lunch and we'll talk about it." The prospect was truly appalling.

"I don't want to talk about it." But as she tried to brush Allie off, it was as though she heard John's voice somewhere in the distance. "Come on, little one, dammit ... you cart make it ... you have to...." All that faith he had had in her, all his excitement over her book. It was like denying him some final thrill to leave the book buried in her desk. "All right, all right. We'll have lunch. But I don't want to talk about it. You can tell me how to find an agent."

They met the next day at the Veau d'Or, and Allie was full of helpful suggestions. She seemed to keep searching Daphne's eyes, but Daphne kept strictly to the subject. Allie gave her a list of agents to call, took the manuscript in hand, and promised to return it to her after the weekend, and when she did, she was raving. She thought it was the best thing she had read in years, and in spite of herself Daphne was pleased by her praise. She had always been damn tough with her criticism, and seldom generous with her applause. But for Daphne, she was applauding.

She told Daphne whom to call on the list, and on Monday she did, still feeling that she was doing it for John, but suddenly she was beginning to catch the fire of Allie's excitement. She dropped the manuscript off at the agent's office, expecting not to hear for several weeks, but four days later, as she was packing to go to see Andrew for Thanksgiving, the agent, Iris, called at four o'clock and asked If she could see her on Monday.

"What did you think of the book?" Suddenly she had to know. Slowly she was coming back to life, and the book was becoming important to her. It was her last link to John, and it was her only link to survival.

"What did I think? Honestly?" Daphne held her breath. "I loved it. And Allison's right, she called me the day you dropped it off. It's the best thing I've read in years. You've got a sure winner there, Daphne." For the first time in three months Daphne smiled a real smile and tears filled her eyes. Tears of excitement and relief, and that same old aching again, of wanting to share something with John, and realizing once more that he wasn't there to share it. "I thought maybe on Monday we could have lunch."