“I love you, too, Peter. In my own peculiar way.”
“That'll do for now.” livia had told him that at first, too. It was frightening, sometimes, how much alike they were. “You know, Faye helped me a great deal when she died. That was why I thought she'd be good for you.” She had also helped him in other ways, but that didn't matter, not now.
“You were right. She's been wonderful. You both have.” She took his hand then, and they began to walk back up the beach. “Peter … I… I don't know how to say this, but … I don't want to hurt you. I do love you, but I'm still packing up my past. Piece by piece, bit by bit. It may still take me a little time.”
“I'm in no hurry. I'm a man of great patience.”
“Good. Because I want you to be there when I'm ready.”
“I'll be there. Don't worry.” And the way he said it made her feel happy and warm. She wondered if perhaps she did love him more than she knew. And then as they walked along, she had a sudden thought. It frightened her and excited her, but she knew that she wanted to do it. He caught the sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him as they got back to the car. “And just what exactly do you have up your sleeve?”
“Never mind.”
“Oh, God. Now what?” Several weeks before she had phoned him one morning at dawn, to tell him he had to get up to watch the sensational sunrise. “Nancy … no, Marie. From now on, it's Marie, and only Marie. But tell me, is Marie as outrageous as Nancy?”
“More so. She has all kinds of new ideas.”
“Oh, no, spare me.” But he didn't look as though he wanted to be spared. Not for a moment. “A little hint maybe? Just a small one?” But she was shaking her head and laughing at him as Fred hopped onto her lap and Peter started the car. “Well, I have an idea for you myself. The work on your face will be done by the end of the year. How about starting the new year with a show of the photographic artwork of Marie Adamson? Will you agree to that?”
“I might.” She was actually beginning to like the idea, and something had happened that afternoon to make her feel brave again. Maybe telling him how she felt about Michael, hearing about the woman he had loved … being in his arms, being kissed by a man again. “I'll think about the show.”
“No. Promise me. In fact—” He took the key out of the ignition, slipped it under him on the seat, and turned to smile at her. “I won't take you home until you agree to a show, and I hope you're too much of a lady to wrestle me for the key.”
“Okay. You win.” She ruffled Fred's fur and laughed. “I give up. I'll have a show.”
“As easy as that?” He was stunned.
“As easy as that. But just how do you propose I go about getting myself shown?”
“Leave that to me. Is that a deal?”
“Yes, sir, it is.” She trusted him with her work as much as she had with her face and her life.
“Darling, you won't regret it.” He gently took her face in his hands, kissed her, and started the car again. It had been a beautiful day.
They drove home slowly along the coast, and Peter regretfully stopped the car in front of her house at six o'clock. He hated to see the day end. But he wanted her to rest.
“Okay, young lady. Get a good night's sleep. I want to see you in the office bright and early tomorrow.” He was removing more of the bandages the nest day, and two more operations were scheduled for the next two months. But by December she would be through with surgery, and in January she would be 'unveiled.'
“Do you want to come up?” She wasn't really sure she wanted him to, and was slightly relieved when he said no.
“We'll have dinner sometime this week. I'll have some news by then about the show.”
“I won't be disappointed if you don't.”
He smiled as she and Fred got out of the car, and she waved as she walked into the building. But she was already thinking of something else. She had thought of it on the beach as they walked back to the car, and now she knew it was something she had to do. Something she wanted to do. She walked straight to the closet without taking off her coat, and reached behind her clothes until she found it. She pulled it out into the hallway and looked at it for a long time before opening it. It was dusty, and she was almost afraid to open it, but she had to. Slowly, she pulled at the zipper, and the large black artist's portfolio opened at her feet, revealing sketches, a few small paintings, and some unfinished work. But at the top of the pile was what she was looking for. She sank down onto the floor and looked at it thoughtfully. She had intended it to be Michael's wedding present, a year and a half ago. The landscape with the boy hidden in the tree. She sat there holding it, and slowly the tears slid down her face. It had taken eighteen months to face that again. But she had now, and she was going to finish it. For Peter.
Chapter 17
It was a brisk, chilly day as Marie pulled down the brim of her white fedora, raised the collar of her bright red wool coat, and walked the last few blocks to Faye Allison's office. Fred was at her side, as always, and his collar and leash were exactly the same red as her coat. Nancy smiled down at him as they turned the last corner. She was in high spirits, which even the fog couldn't dampen. She ran up the steps to Faye's office, and let herself in.
“Hello! I'm here!” Her voice sang out in the warm, cozy house, and a moment later there was a quick answer from upstairs. Marie slipped out of her coat. She was wearing a simple white wool dress with a gold pin Peter had given her a few months before. Almost absentmindedly, she glanced in the mirror and pulled her hat to a jauntier angle and then smiled at what she saw. The glasses were at last gone, and she could finally see eyes when she looked in the mirror. Only a few narrow bands of tape remained, high on her fore-head. And in a few weeks they would be gone, too. Finished. The job was done.
“Pleased with what you see, Nancy?” She suddenly noticed Faye standing behind her, an affectionate smile on her face, and she nodded.
“Yes, I guess I am. I'm even used to myself now. But you're not!" There was mischief in her eyes as she turned and grinned impishly at her friend.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep calling me ‘Nancy.’ It's Marie now, remember? It's official.”
“I'm sorry.” Faye shook her head and led the way into the cozy room where they always talked. “I keep slipping.”
“You certainly do.” But Marie didn't look upset as she slid into her favorite chair. “I guess old habits are hard to break.” Her face grew somber as she said the words, and Faye waited for the rest of her thoughts. “I've been thinking of that a lot lately. But I think I'm finally over him.” She said it quietly, looking into the fire.
“Michael?” Marie only nodded and then finally looked up with great seriousness in her face. “What makes you think you're over him?”
“I think I decided to be. I don't have much choice. The fact of it is, Faye, it's been almost two years since the accident. Nineteen months to be exact. He hasn't found me. He didn't tell his mother to go to hell, that he had to be with me no matter what. Instead he just let it go.” Her eyes looked for Faye's and then held fast. “He let me go. Now I have to let him go.”
“That's not easy. You've expected a lot of him for a long time.”
“Too long. And he let me down.”
“How does that make you feel about yourself?”
“Okay, I guess. I'm mad at him, not at me.”
“You're not angry at yourself anymore for your deal with his mother?” Faye was pressing a tender area and she knew it, but the ground had to be covered.
“I had no choice.” The voice was cool and hard.
“But you don't reproach yourself?”
“Why should I? Do you suppose Michael reproaches himself that he let me down? That he never bothered to come to me after the accident? Do you think it's given him sleepless nights?”