Once in a Lifetime (21 page)

"Of course he's special, all children are. Special is all right, different isn't. What you're saying is that he's different. You don't have to cater to his handicap, Daphne. That won't help him. Any seven-year-old child would be upset by his mother going away. That's normal. Other parents have situations their children have to adjust to, siblings, divorces, deaths, moves, financial problems. You can't create a perfect world for him forever. It would be impossible for you to live up to, and in the end it would hurt him. Besides, can you really live up to that? Do you want to?"

She wanted to shout at him, he didn't understand anything, least of all her responsibilities to her child. He watched her eyes and knew what she was thinking, and he smiled.

"It's all right, go ahead, hate me. But I'm right. If you stick to your guns for a little while, he'll be okay." They both saw then that Andrew was watching them, lip-reading, and Daphne turned toward her son with sorrow in her eyes. This time she spoke to him as well as signing.

"I'm not happy about going either, sweetheart. But I think it's important for me to do this. I want to go to Hollywood to make a movie out of one of my books."

"Why?" He signed the word.

"Because it would be exciting, and it would help my work." How do you explain lifetime career goals to a seven-year-old child? "I promise you could come out to see me, and I'd come back here. I wouldn't see you every week, but it won't be forever...." Her voice drifted off and there was a distant spark of interest in his eyes.

"Could I come on an airplane?"

She nodded. "Yes. A great big one." This seemed to spark some further interest, and then he looked down and kicked the ground. When he looked up again, Daphne wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he looked less devastated than he had earlier.

"Could we go to Disneyland?"

"Yes." Daphne smiled. "We could do a lot of other things too, you could watch them make the movie when you visit." And then, suddenly, she knelt beside him and took him in her arms for a moment before moving back so he could see her lips again. "Oh, Andrew, I will miss you so much. I love you with all my heart, and as soon as I finish my work in California, I'll come back and stay here, I promise. And Mr. Dane says that he'll take you to New York to visit his sister and her children ... maybe if we both keep as busy as we can, and learn as much as we can, the time will go very quickly. ..." She wanted it to, she wanted it to be over right now. In her heart of hearts she didn't want to leave him, but she knew she had to. For herself. It was the first time in many years that she was doing something she knew she wanted to very badly, even though it wasn't easy, and suddenly she thought of all that Matt had said the night before. The good things in life weren't easy, for either her or Andrew. Something in Andrew's face told her then that even though he didn't like her going, he'd be all right. "Andrew ... do you know how much I love you?" She watched him, wondering if he'd remember the game they'd played so often when he was younger.

"How much?" He signed it at her and her eyes shone with unshed tears. He did remember after all.

"As much as this." She threw her arms wide and then threw them around him, and then whispered into his hair, "As much as my whole life."

Matthew left them to each other and they spent a quiet hour together, talking about things that were important to Andrew, about her trip, and how soon she would come back. She told him that she wouldn't be leaving for another month, and she'd come to visit often in the meantime, and then they talked about when he would come to California, the things they'd do, and what it would be like.

"Will you write to me?" His eyes turned to hers sadly, and her heart ached again. He was still so little and California seemed as though it were on another planet.

"Yes. I promise I'll write every day. Will you write to me?"

But this time he grinned at her. "I'll try to remember." He was teasing and her heart felt lighter.

When she got back to New York that night, she felt as though she had climbed a mountain. She unpacked her suitcase and walked around her apartment, and at last her thoughts turned from Andrew as she looked out the window at the brilliant lights of Manhattan. She was suddenly excited about what she was doing, and for the first time in three days the reality of it came home to her. She was going to California to make a movie of Apachel And suddenly she stood there, smiling to herself and laughing ... it was happening! She had really made it. "Hallelujah!" she whispered softly, and then she walked into her bedroom, climbed into the bed, and turned off the lights.

"Well, kiddo," Daphne smiled at Barbara as she came through the door the next morning. "Hang on to your hat."

"What's up?"

"We're going."

Barbara looked startled. "Where?"

"To California, dummy."

"You're going to do it, Daff?" Barbara looked nothing less than astounded. I am.

"What about Andrew?" She hated to ask, but she had to.

"I told him this weekend, and he wasn't too pleased at first, but I think we'll both survive it." She told her then about all that Mrs. Curtis had said, and about the new director at the school. "I'm going to have Andrew fly out to see me, and I'll come back whenever I can. And Matthew says he'll bring him to New York, to visit the New York School and see his sister...." Her voice trailed off with a gust of laughter at the look of confusion on Barbara's face. "He's the new director up at Howarth."

"Matthew? How friendly!" Barbara's eyes were teasing. "Do I sense the presence of an attractive man?"

"Very attractive, as a friend, Miss Jarvis, nothing more, I assure you."

"Bullshit. You just quoted him like God, and he's bringing Andrew down to see his sister? Hell, you've never even let me meet the kid for chrissake and you're trusting him to a stranger? This guy must be pretty terrific, Daff, or you wouldn't let him do that."

"You're right, he is terrific, and he's the smartest human being I've ever known about the hard-of-hearing, but that doesn't mean I'm interested in him as a man for chrissake." She was still laughing.

"Why not? Is he ugly?"

"No." She was still chuckling. "As a matter of fact he's very handsome. But that's not the point. Let's talk about us."

"Us?" Barbara looked confused again. Everything was topsy-turvy this morning.

"I want you to come with me."

"Are you kidding?" She sat down with a load of fan mail in her arms. "What would I do there?"

"Run my life, the way you do here." Daphne smiled.

"Is that what I do?" Barbara returned the smile. "Run your life? I figured I had to be good for something other than answering fan mail."

"You know damn well you are." She knew that she was invaluable to Daphne and it meant a lot to her. And she never forgot that it was Daphne who had helped to free her from her old life. "Now, will you come with me?"

"When do I pack? Is tomorrow soon enough?" She Was beaming and Daphne laughed at her.

"I think you can wait a couple of weeks for that. First, we're going to have to get organized here, and I want you to come to Iris McCarthy's with me this afternoon, so you can hear what it's all about when I do. I think we leave next month sometime. That ought to give us plenty of time to get everything wrapped up."

"What are you going to do with the apartment?"

"Let it sit here. I'll use it when I fly in to see Andrew, and Comstock is paying for me to rent a house out there, so I won't have double expenses. Besides, I don't want some stranger sleeping in my bed." She made a face and Barbara laughed at her with a rueful smile.

"Listen, once in a while, I think that wouldn't be so bad .... " The two women exchanged a smile.

They went to Daphne's agent together that afternoon, after Daphne took Barbara to the Plaza for lunch and they drank a toast to the West Coast and to Comstock. It was all beginning to feel exciting, and by the time they left Iris's office at four thirty, Daphne could hardly wait to start. She turned to Barbara nervously in the cab going back to the apartment then, with a worried frown. "Do you really think I can do it, Barb? I mean hell, I have no idea how to write a movie."

"You'll figure it out. It can't be that much different from a book. Play it by ear, they'll tell you what they want."

"I hope so." There was a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach as Barbara patted her hand.

"You can do it. It's going to be fabulous."

"I hope so." But whether it was or not, she knew she had to try.

She went back to see Andrew the following weekend, and he seemed by then perfectly adjusted to the idea of her going. He only complained about it once and that time only halfheartedly, the rest of the time he talked about Disneyland and her movie, and he seemed relaxed and happy and she marveled at how quickly he had accepted it all. Children really were amazing, she decided, and she mentioned it all to Matthew when she saw him again, at dinner in the main dining room of Howarth on Saturday night.

"Will you kick me if I say I told you so, Daphne?" He smiled at her over the remains of dinner and she grinned. This week she looked relaxed and happy, and younger, with her blond hair spilling over her shoulders, blue jeans, and a persimmon-colored cowboy shirt.

"I may, so watch out."

"You're scaring me to death." But there was a pleasant banter between him. He told her about what had happened at the New York School that week, and she told him about the preliminary plans for the movie. Dinner seemed to fly as they chatted, and Helen Curtis left them alone after dinner, she said that she had work to do, and for once Matthew did not. "I don't know how you manage to write those books the way you do, Daphne." He stretched his long legs toward the fire after the children were in bed and they sat in the cozy living room of the school. She didn't feel like going back to the inn and it was still early. Besides, he was good company and she liked him.

He was nice to talk to, and she felt they had a lot in common. They shared Andrew, and interest in her book. "I really don't know how you do it." He was thinking about Apache and she looked at him with amusement.

"How can you say that? You've written three books yourself."

"All of them nonfiction, about a subject I eat, sleep, and breathe. That's hardly very remarkable." He smiled at her from where he sat.

"It's a lot harder than what I do. You have to be accurate, and you help an awful lot of people with those books, Matthew. Mine are all make-believe stories born out of nowhere, and they don't do a damn thing for anyone, except amuse them." She was always modest about her work, and he liked that about her. One would never guess from talking to her that she was one of the nation's leading bestselling authors. She was bright and intelligent and amusing, and she did not show off.

"You're wrong about your books, Daphne, they do a lot more than just amuse. I told you, one of your books helped me a great deal, and they all taught me something"--he seemed pensive for a moment--"about people ... relationships ... women." He looked at her with interest. "How do you know so much about that stuff, leading such a solitary life?"

"What makes you think I do ... lead a solitary life, I mean?" She was amused at the question.

"You told me so yourself last week."

"Did I?" She shrugged and grinned. "I talk too much. I suppose I don't have time for anything more than that. I work like a dog all week long, and then there's Andrew...."

Matt looked disapproving for a moment and then his face softened in the firelight. "Don't use him as an excuse."

She gazed at him frankly. "Usually, I don't." And then she smiled, "Only when someone puts me on the spot, like you did."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"Yes, you did. What about you? Is your life so full?"

"Sometimes." He was noncommittal. "For a long time I was afraid to get involved again, after my wife."

"And now?" It was strange questioning him this way, it was as though they were old friends, but he had that kind of quality about him, he was so warm and so open and so easy to talk to. She felt as though they had known each other for years, it was as though they were on a desert island, the rest of the world was unimportant. They just sat there by the fire, alone and comfortable with each other, and each one curious to know what made the other tick.

"I don't know ... I don't have much time for serious involvement these days. There's a lot going on in my life professionally." And then he smiled at her again. "And I don't suppose I'll find the woman of my life in the next year, up here."

"You never know. Mrs. Obermeier might decide to leave her husband." They both laughed at the thought and Matthew looked at her more seriously for a moment. He had heard the story of John Fowler from Helen Curtis, but he wasn't sure if he could broach the subject with her, or if it was taboo.

"Don't you ever want to try again, Daphne?" He suspected that she was very lonely, and yet there was no sense of her reaching out toward a man, certainly not toward him. She had an easy, comfortable way about her that reminded him of his sister, and her warmth was in the same vein. But there was a sense about her that she had forgotten she was a woman, and didn't want to remember it ever again. She had obviously been very hurt.

But as she looked at him now in the glow from the embers, he saw sadness in her eyes beyond measure, and stories that he knew would never be told. "No, I don't want to try again, Matt. I've had all I ever wanted. Twice in fact." Daphne surprised herself with how easily her secret slipped out. "It would be wrong of me to ask for more ... and stupid ... and greedy ... and very foolish. I thought I'd never find what I had once, with my husband, and yet I did find someone else. It was very different, very special. I've had two extraordinary men in my life, Matt. I couldn't ask for anything more."

So she was ready to talk about Fowler.

"And so you've given up? What about the next fifty or sixty years?" The prospect of her solitude depressed him. She deserved more than that ... much more ... she deserved someone wonderful who would love her. She was too good and strong and young and wise to spend the rest of her life alone. But she smiled philosophically at him.