Daddy (21 page)

Chapter 18

The Labor Day weekend was a nice homecoming for all of them. They had a barbecue near the pool, as they always did, and the children invited friends, and his father came over with Margaret. They brought cookies and treats, and homemade bread, and they brought the dog, and this time Oliver congratulated them both, and let his father announce it to the children. They were a little startled at first, but they took their cue from their dad, and if he thought it was all right, then they guessed it was too. Even Daphne came. And she had agreed to spend the weekend. Only Megan had declined. She had gone to East Hampton instead, which bothered Ollie, but he couldn't convince her to come. She just said it wasn't her scene, kids and dogs and barbecues, and she didn't want to intrude on them. But the truth was that it bored her. He hadn't seen her all week, and he was going crazy without her, but she was working late and so was he. The kids were home, and he was waiting for them to settle down again, which she seemed to think wasn't important.

Benjamin and Sandra came to the barbecue, though, and this time the girl looked truly pathetic. Her face was bloated to twice its size, she could barely walk, she was so large, and it was hard to believe she had ever been pretty. Benjamin looked thin and pale, in comparison, and he was feeling the load of his two jobs, and Sandra did nothing but complain, and sometimes he thought he would go crazy. His father handed him a beer, after Mel took Sandra into the house to lie down for a while, and Oliver looked at Benjamin carefully, wondering when he was going to admit he couldn't hack it anymore, or if he was going to let it kill him.

“How's it going, Son?”

“Okay, I guess. I'm going to have to get another job pretty soon. They're closing the gas station down, and letting me go in a few weeks. And the restaurant doesn't pay enough. But I've got some pretty good leads, and after the baby's born, Sandra says she'll go back to work pretty quickly.” He tried to sound hopeful, but it was obvious to his father that he was getting seriously discouraged, and who wouldn't have? At the age of eighteen, to be expecting a child, supporting a seventeen-year-old pseudo wife, and working two jobs, was hardly anyone's idea of a happy life, least of all his father's.

“Are you going to let me help you out before it kills us both, or are you going to be stubborn?” The boy smiled, looking older and wiser than he had before. He had learned a lot in the last few months, but none of it easy or fun, and seeing him like this was a weight on his father's heart.

“We'll see, Dad. The baby I'll be here in three weeks, and after that, things'U be okay.”

“Having a baby around isn't easy.”

“Yeah, I know. We've been taking a class at the Y about how to take care of it, and Lamaze and all that stuff. I want to be there at the delivery, to help Sandra.” He was going all the way with what he'd taken on, and Oliver had to admire him, if nothing else, but he was desperately worried about him.

“Will you call me if you need help with anything?”

“Sure.”

“Promise?”

Benjamin grinned again, and for a fraction of an instant, looked almost like his old self. “Sure I will, Dad. Thanks.”

They joined the others after that and talked about Grandpa's wedding. Benjamin promised to come, and Oliver offered to give the bride away. Daphne was happy for them, and later on, in a quiet moment, she asked Oliver what was happening with Megan, but he only shrugged unhappily and told her he didn't know for the moment.

“She came out to meet the kids last week and it was not exactly a glowing success. She's not into that kind of thing, and right now I've got my hands full. It was different while they were gone. But now, I don't know, Daph.”

“She doesn't sound like the warm maternal type, but perhaps that wasn't the main thrust of your interest.”

Oliver smiled at his friend, and then laughed. “You might say that.”

“Well, at least it got you out of your shell.” It certainly had done that. He smiled again. “That's nice about your father.”

“It seems kind of crazy, doesn't it, Daph? Benjamin is about to have a kid, my dad's getting married, and I'm sitting around by myself.”

“That'll change one of these days.” But he was in no rush. If the affair with Megan ended, it wouldn't be the end of the world. He wasn't even divorced, and he still couldn't imagine getting remarried. He was busy with his life, with his children, and his work. The rest could wait for the moment.

They swam late into the night, and the children sang, and his father left eventually, and Benjamin had to get to work. Daphne helped Oliver clean up, and Aggie was back after a relaxing summer. And it felt somehow as though they'd all come a long way since the summer began. And it hurt only briefly when he remembered the year before when Sarah was there and life had been so simple and sane. Nothing was quite as simple anymore. And nothing was sure now. But life was sweet, and he was grateful for what he had. If he never had more than this again, even that might be all right.

He finally saw Megan at her place the night they got home, and after making love for hours, they finally talked things out, and she admitted to him that she'd gone to East Hampton with an old lover. It hurt to have her tell him that, and yet, he had suspected it anyway.

“It's over, isn't it?”

“Not really.” She lay languidly in her bed and looked at him. “I'd be happy to see you anytime. But I'm not going to play mommy to your kids, if that's what you want. And you don't have the kind of time for me you did when they were away. That's just the way things go sometimes, Oliver. But between us, nothing's changed.” She was so casual about it all, everything was easy and unattached and purely sexual. He had loved that about her at first, and yet now, it didn't seem enough. He didn't want to share her with anyone else, didn't want to have to have a life separate from his children. But it was too difficult being with someone who didn't really care about them, and whom they resented. And he knew now that she would make no effort for them. She really didn't want to. It was part of her all-out effort to stay unattached. In the end, she had won. But it was a losing game.

“I'm sad things worked out this way,” he told her honestly as he dressed, and this time she didn't fight to take his clothes off. It had changed for her, too, whether she admitted it or not.

“There was really no other way it could have gone. I told you that from the first. You don't need a woman like me, Oliver. You deserve better than that. You deserved better than Sarah. Don't settle for less this time, my friend. If you do, you'll always get hurt, and you don't deserve that.”

“Why don't you want more than that?” Why didn't she? Why were they so different?

“I'm not made that way, I guess, Priscilla was … but I never was. It's too painful, I suppose. I'm not willing to take those risks, to throw my heart out there, to take chances with my life and my heart. I just want to have a good time, Ollie. That's all I want. Simple as that.” And it had been that. A good time. A great time. A wild, wonderful time, and he could have gone on forever, except that eventually the moussaka would have gone stale. One needed more than that. At least he did, even if she didn't.

“What do I say as I leave?” he asked her sadly, as he stood in the hall, fully dressed, knowing he wouldn't be back again. “Thank you?”

“You say, ‘so long,’ ‘see you around,’ ‘thanks for a good time.’”

“Thank you for more than that … thank you for something very special. You're very special. Don't forget that. And maybe one of these days, you'll get brave.”

“Don't count on it.” She kissed him lightly on the lips and pressed the button for the elevator. And as the doors closed, he saw her for the last time, wrapped in a white satin kimono, smiling at him, the mane of dark hair ebony against her ivory face.

He knew he was going to miss her. And he felt sad for her as he walked home that night. Sad for what she would never have, for what she didn't want, for what she was afraid to reach out for. And far above, she stood on the terrace, watching him, and she gave a silent wave. She walked back into her living room, and turned on the music. She finished the brandy he had left, and sat down alone on the couch, remembering how his flesh had felt when she touched him.

“You would have liked him a lot,” she whispered to the memory of the twin who was long gone. He would have been perfect for her, and Megan would have teased her, about how decent he was, and how square and how tame. Megan smiled to herself, thinking of them both, and then she walked slowly back to her bedroom. She had work to do and another book auction to run the next day. There was no point thinking about the past. She forced them both from her heart, like furniture she no longer had room for, took a shower, brushed her teeth, turned the light out, and went to bed, knowing that it had been nice for a while, but it was over with Oliver Watson. She didn't cry, she didn't mourn. She was used to handling these things, and as she drifted off to sleep, she forced herself to think of something else. Her moment with Oliver was over.

Chapter 19

George Watson's wedding to Margaret Porter was exactly what it should have been. It was tender and sweet and simple, and there were tears
in
Daphne's eyes as the couple took their vows. Weddings always did that to her, probably because she'd never had one. But this one particularly so, because they were both such dear people.

The bride wore a simple beige lace dress and carried a bouquet of tiny beige orchids. She wore a small, elegant hat, and Oliver gave her away, as promised, and then stood next to his children with damp eyes, as the organ played.

The ceremony was brief and to the point, and afterward they all went to the house in Purchase for a small reception. Oliver had decided to do that for them, and he had invited a few of their close friends. Many of them had been shocked at first, and then, like Oliver, they had mellowed. It was difficult to deny them the joy they obviously shared, and plainly deserved.

It was a sunny September afternoon, and the bride and groom left at five o'clock to drive into the city. They were spending the night at the Plaza Hotel and then flying to San Francisco for two weeks. Margaret had relatives there, and they wanted to go to the opera. They were going to spend a few days in Carmel, and then go back to San Francisco and fly home. It sounded like the perfect trip for them, and Margaret hadn't said so, but she didn't want to be far from “civilization.” With George's heart, she liked keeping near places where she knew he could get competent medical care. But he looked in need of nothing but her kind hand, as they left for the city, with the guests throwing rose petals after them, as the two old people beamed and waved.

“It was perfect, absolutely perfect!” Daphne raved as they sat in the living room afterward. “Maybe I'll get married when I'm their age.” Oliver shook his head and grinned.

“You would do something like that. Maybe I'll join you.” He had told her about the end of the romance with Megan. And she wasn't surprised, although she was sorry for him. It had been a good distraction over the past two months, and now that it was over he had that lonely look again, although he claimed that he was happy.

“You just have to go back to the drawing board again.”

“What a pain in the ass.” The prospect of dating again filled him with despair. But he also recognized that the fling with Megan had been more than a little exhausting, and unusual to say the least. Someone who lived by more ordinary norms might be easier in the long run.

He drove Daphne to the station that night, because she insisted she had to get back. There was a luncheon she had to go to the next day, and her friend's wife was out of town, so she wanted to spend the night with him. He never accompanied her anywhere. He was careful not to be
seen
with her. But she accepted that, as she did everything else about him.

“He's a lucky bastard,” Oliver had said to her more than once, and she only laughed. She wanted nothing more than she shared with him. She loved him totally and was content to live with his restrictions. And Oliver had long since stopped trying to convince her to look for someone else.

Later that night, he was chatting with Mel, as they sat in the living room talking about the wedding, when the phone rang, and she grabbed it, convinced it was one of her friends. She looked surprised when it wasn't, and handed it to her father instead. It was Benjamin, and he had asked only for their father. So she handed him the phone, kissed him, and went up to bed.

“ 'Night, Dad.”

“See you in the morning, sweetheart. Sleep tight.” And then he turned his attention to her older brother. “What's up, Benjamin?” They had seen him only that afternoon at the wedding. He had taken the day off, and he had come alone. Sandra wasn't feeling well. She had the flu, Benjamin had said, which was unfortunate, given her condition. The baby was due in an- other ten days, and Benjamin was showing the strain. He looked absolutely awful.

“Hi, Dad.” Benjamin sounded terse. “She's in labor. We're at the hospital. We've been here since eight o'clock.”

“Everything okay?” It brought back memories of when they had been born, and how excited he had been, but Benjamin sounded scared more than excited.

“It's not going so great. She's not making any progress … and, Dad … she's having such a hard time. They gave her some stuff, but it isn't doing anything to help the pain.”

“What about your Lamaze?”

“She doesn't want to do it. And … Dad … they think the baby is having problems.” Oh Jesus. A damaged baby.

“Do you want me to come down?”

“Yeah … I … I'm sorry, I know it's late. Would you?”

“Sure.” Benjamin gave him the name of the hospital. “I'll be right there.” He hurried out of the house, grabbing his car keys on the way, and glad that Benjamin had called him. At least he was reaching out to him now, and maybe he could do something to help. He couldn't do anything to help Sandra, of course, and he was sorry for her. She had no family to take care of her, no mother to hold her hand. But at least he could be there for Benjamin, and the doctors could do the rest for Sandra.

When he got there, Benjamin was pacing nervously in the corridor, wearing green pajamas and a white gown over them, and a funny green shower cap on his head. His father smiled at the sight of him, remembering the Halloween he'd dressed up as a doctor. He'd been four years old then, and he hardly looked older than that to Ollie now. “You look like Dr. Kildare. How is she?”

“Awful. She was screaming and screaming. They asked me to leave so they could check her again and she kept begging me not to … I don't know what to do for her, Dad.”

“Relax, Son. It'll be all right. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

Benjamin shook his head, and Ollie went to get a cup for himself. He had had a lot of wine at the wedding, and he didn't want to get sleepy when Benjamin needed him. And as he came back with the steaming cup, there were two doctors in similar garb conferring with his son. Oliver stood at a little distance from them, and he saw Benjamin close his eyes and nod his head.

“They want to do a cesarean. The baby's in trouble now. I know she didn't want that, but they say there's no choice.” He pulled the shower cap slowly off his head. “They won't let me be in there with her. They're going to give her a general anesthetic.”

“She'll be all right, just hang in there.” He squeezed his shoulder in one powerful hand, and led him gently to a chair.

“What if the baby's not all right?” he asked miserably as he sat down next to him.

“We'll face that when the time comes, but I'll bet that baby will be just fine.” He wanted to ask him again about putting it up for adoption, but he knew this wasn't the time.

It seemed to take hours as they sat there. They watched the clock drag its hands. It was already after one. And then a nurse came out and asked if Mr. Watson was there, both men stood up, and then, feeling foolish, Oliver sat back down. It was obviously Benjamin they were looking for. And the boy hurried toward the door.

“Mr. Watson?”

“Yes?”

“There's someone here who wants to meet you.” And without another word, as he stood in the hallway in the middle of the night in his green pajamas, they handed him his son. He was swaddled in a tiny bundle, and he let out a wail as the nurse put him in Benjamin's hands, and then he pulled him gently toward his chest. He stood looking down at him
in
total amazement, as tears slid down his cheeks and he started to grin, and turned toward Oliver, holding tightly to the baby.

“It's a boy, Dad! It's a
boy”
Oliver hurried over to see him, and as he looked down at the tiny child, he felt his heart quiver within him. It was like looking into Benjamin's face only moments after he was born. It was the same child, the same face, the same red hair and surprised eyes, and so much of Sarah, and as Oliver looked at him he realized something that had previously escaped him. This wasn't just Benjamin's child, or Sandra's, it was his grandchild as well. It was a part of him, and all of those who had come before him … his father … his mother … and their parents before them. It was a part of all of them, and he could no longer deny that. There were tears in his eyes, as he gently touched the child that belonged to all of them now.

“How's Sandra?” Benjamin suddenly remembered her, feeling guilty. “Is she okay?” he asked the nurse.

“She's fine. She'll be in the recovery room for a while. And now, would you like to come to the nursery with us for a little while? You can hold the baby, while we check him.”

“Is he all right?”

“Everything's just fine. He weighs eight pounds, nine ounces, and his Apgars were perfect. That means he's an alert, healthy little boy.” She took the baby from Benjamin,' and led the way to the nursery as the new father beamed, and Oliver stayed behind. It was an amazing moment in his life. At forty-five years of age, he was suddenly a grandfather, but he was still struck by how much his grandchild looked like his own son. And then, needing to share it with someone, he walked to a pay phone, dialed the number, and charged it to his home phone.

When she answered the phone, he suddenly smiled to himself, and his voice was hoarse and gentle. “Hello, Grandma.”

“Who is this?” She thought it was a crank call and was about to hang up.

“You have a grandson, Sarah.” There were tears in his eyes again, as he remembered the children they had borne together.

“Oh my God. Is he all right?”

“He's perfect. Eight pounds, nine ounces, and he looks just like Benjamin when he was born.”

“How's Sandra?”

“Not too great, I suspect. They had to do a cesarean.

But she'll be all right. The baby is so sweet, Sarrie … wait till you see him.”

“They're keeping him, then?” She was wide awake now.

“Yes,” he said quietly, suddenly feeling something for the baby he had never expected to feel again, almost as though it were his own baby. “I think they'll keep him.” And it was impossible to disagree with Benjamin, now that he had seen his grandson.

“How's Benjamin holding up?”

“He was very nervous, but he looks like a proud papa now. Oh Sarah, you should see him.” He was proud of him, and happy for him, and sad all at the same time.

“You're such an old softie, Oliver Watson. You should be having more kids of your own one of these days.” It was an odd thing for her to say, but their lives were in separate worlds now.

“So I've been told. How are you, by the way?”

“I'm all right.”

“Your eyes okay?”

“Still a little colorful, but they'll do. Give Benjamin my love. I'll call him tomorrow.”

“Take care of yourself.” He sounded sad again. Sometimes it still hurt to call her, but he was glad he had anyway. It was her grandson too. And he had wanted to tell her.

“Congratulations.” She smiled into the phone, “Grampa.”

“Same to you. It makes us sound ancient, doesn't it?”

“I don't know. I think I kind of like it.”

He hung up then, and waited for Benjamin to emerge. He drove him back to the house in Purchase, and it was the first time in six months that he had slept in his old room. He had left in defiance, and come home a father. It was a strange world, Oliver thought to himself, as he walked to his room, thinking of the baby that had been born that night. He wished him an easy life, an easy berth, and an easier path into manhood than his father had just had. And in his own bed Benjamin had just drifted off to sleep at last, smiling about his baby.