Chapter 35
Dirk
“A good big brother shares, Theo,” I tell my grandson as he hogs the ball for himself and holds it just above Lexie’s reach. He’s two years older than Lexie, faster and more nimble.
“It’s no fun at all if you don’t share it, Theo,” I say. “The trick is to play the game.”
Lexie stands, hands on hips, defiant but defeated, bottom lip trembling.
“Time for a tackle,” I tell her, and swoop in. I pick Theo up, turn him upside down and shake him, but he holds on to the ball as if his life depends on it.
Suddenly, Lexie’s missing. The gate is closed. She can’t escape. Has she climbed a tree, fallen down a hole?
There she is, in the far corner, with someone else. It’s Lucy, down on her haunches, showing my granddaughter something.
“You let us know when you’re ready to share, Theo,” I tell my grandson, and stride towards Lucy. She meets my gaze full on.
“You’re still avoiding me,” she says. “Okay if I give your grandkids a snack? Phoebe was always angriest when she was hungry. Hangry.”
Lexie stares up at me as if she’s found a fairy at the bottom of the garden.
“Okay,” I say.
Theo spots the fruit, drops the red ball and runs across to us, hands outstretched.
“What we really need in this corner is a pizza oven,” says Lucy. “We had so much fun with ours, at my old house, and here, everyone could enjoy it. Do you like pizza?” she asks the children.
They nod, their mouths full of grapes. My own mouth waters.
Lucy holds them out to me and I take a few. They’re sweet and juicy and perfect. I’ve been taking care of Theo and Lexie for three hours. The garden was a diversion that worked well for a while, but was going stale. Lucy’s arrival is helpful. She’s more than welcome. My gut twists.
Lucy whispers in Lexie’s ear and she shoots around the edge of the fence and grabs the red ball while Theo’s eyes are on Lucy. Lexie’s joy is absolute.
Fruit fest over, Lucy coaxes Lexie to throw her the ball. It’s an excellent throw for a four-year-old, if I say so myself – maybe she’s inherited my ball skills. Lucy’s catch is even better. She lobs it back to Lexie.
“Okay, Theo,” says Lucy. “You and me against Grandpa and Lexie, okay?”
He nods solemnly and the game is on. We run until we’re all laughing and puffed.
I’m amazed that half an hour has passed.
Lucy has a natural way with the children, and they love it.
She continues to surprise me, this lithe neighbor with her ready laugh.
She has self-respect without taking herself too seriously.
Lexie stumbles on a piece of old concrete, and when Lucy and I both reach out to steady her, we collapse into each other, arms and legs tangling, an awkward starfish of awareness.
She’s soft and strong in all the right places, deliciously alive and full of joy.
I hold Lucy long enough that Lexie peers up at us and gives a wide smile of wonder, her grazed knee temporarily forgotten.
It’s only for a moment, this awkward embrace, but it replays in my mind, over and over, the feel of her. I don’t want to let Lucy go.
It’s time to take the children back upstairs for pick up.
“Thank you, Lucy,” I say as I step away from her with the curt nod I used to dismiss patients, regretting my formality.
“See you around.”
Lucy and I haven’t spoken properly since I took her to my old house, and then her apartment came up for sale.
Avoiding her has been uncomfortable. I’ve actually missed her.
Dee tried to set me up with Bettina – some kind of fake discussion about fund management for the dementia charity, but Bettina was as uncomfortable about it as I was. I’ve never been attracted to her.
Then Dee found me a “friend” from one of her classes, a lovely person but I’m not interested.
She sat us next to each other at a family dinner, but we had nothing to say to one another.
Talk about awkward. It’s made me realize how special Lucy is – that we can discuss anything and laugh and cry and enjoy each other’s company. I’ve missed her.
“Come up with us,” I say. “Dee’s collecting the children. She can meet you and see for herself you’re no drug addict.”
But it’s Matt who collects the children. After the polite hellos and farewells, Lexie running back to grab my leg and give Lucy another smile, I offer my neighbor a glass of water.
“Okay,” she says, and I gesture at my lounge while I head into the kitchen.
When I return with the two glasses and place them on the coffee table, Lucy’s shoulders are so slumped I want to lean forwards and squeeze one of them, and before I know it, my hand is there, on the creamy soft, curve of her shoulder.
When she turns her face up towards mine, there are tears in her eyes, but it’s not about the network, she says.
“Did I offend you, back at your house, that night, Dirk?”
“No. Nothing happened.”
“Should something have happened? Is that what I did wrong?”
“No. I’m an old fashioned man. I wouldn’t ...”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“Lucy, we live so close to each other that if we become an item, and then have to break it off, it will be awkward for both of us.”
“More awkward than this?”
But it’s not awkward. Being with Lucy feels natural.
She’s as elegant as ever in my apartment; at ease with me in an extraordinary way, not in the obsequious way that so annoyed me from so many other single women, back in Franklin.
Lucy is my equal in so many ways. She’s in fine health; she can look after herself. Exactly why am I afraid?
A ray of sunlight strikes glints off her rings, shooting sparks across my ceiling, and I lean away.
“Is it my diamonds, Dirk?”
“As a matter of fact, Lucy, my friend Walt, the divorce attorney, does say that a lot of diamonds on a single older woman sends warning signals.”
“You’re kidding me. Is that all?” She slips one of her rings off a finger and holds it out to me. “Here. Would you like it?”
“Lucy ...”
“I’m serious, Dirk. If that’s the issue, have them all.” She begins to pull them all off her fingers, to pile them in her lap. She gathers them up in a jangle and holds them out to me on her palm.
“Lucy, that’s not necessary.”
“Apparently it is. You make such a big deal of my diamonds, as if only a man could have bought them for me, or a string of men, as if I would only love you for your money. Are you trying to suggest that the way we can converse and what our bodies tell us whenever we’re close to each other means nothing at all?
Are you accusing me of offering my love for sale, to the highest bidder? ”
“Well ...”
“Traditionally, Dirk, women may have been men’s property and women depended on their support and largesse, and sure, there’s a long way to go in reaching equality of the sexes, but we’re not living in Jane Austen’s England any more.
Besides, you have no idea how much money I have, and it’s not relevant; not to me.
For all you know, I could buy you out ten times over, buy you five more red convertibles. Would that make a difference?”
“The car is Jamison’s.”
“You’re ignoring my point.”
She goes to stand, to close the door on me, but stops herself.
“But I’m not leaving until I tell you how I see this.
This is our second chance, Dirk, and I don’t want us to miss it.
You have no idea what I love most about you – from the slim shock of white hair near your scar that proves both your vulnerability and your resilience, to your faithfulness to your wife’s memory. ”
I blink.
“I’m being honest about my attraction to you, Dirk, to your kindness – though you’ve shown precious little of that to me lately, but I know it still lurks there in your good heart, and that you’re fighting it.”
I clear my throat.
“I haven’t finished,” she says. “I love the way your grandchildren run to you. I see it from my kitchen window – their little faces all smiles and eagerness. So you can pretend to be cold and hard and distant, but Millie knew it and those children know it – you’re a great big softie, and they love you for it, and so do I. ”
I go to speak, but she stands and shows me the palm of her hand, upright, as if she’s a traffic cop.
“But don’t you worry, Dirk. I’m not waiting around for you to propose to me.”
She drops to one knee, right there in front of me, her rings like fire on the gray carpet.
“Because I’m proposing to you. Will you marry me, Doctor Dirk O’Connell MD?
I dare you. Let’s put an end to this cat and mouse game once and for all.
I’m serious about my diamonds. Have one.
Have two. I have plenty, as you’ve already noted.
Actually all but Bart’s came to me from my mother and grandmother.
Tell your attorney friend that, if he’s so interested.
Or do you really want us to have a never-ending standoff? ”
She holds them all out to me in the palm of one hand.
“Lucy?”
“I’m serious, Dirk. Come on. Take one. Take them all. For centuries women have swapped their devotion, independence and entire futures for a sparkler. I’m not asking you to do the same. If being together is just about diamonds, have some of mine.”
I hold up both hands. What can I say?
“Oh, and I have a spare ticket for a post-Christmas cruise, in the Caribbean, warm and far away from Brighton Court and your lawyer friend and family expectations, Dirk, if they’re the problem.
” she says. “I won the silent auction item at the ball. I couldn’t bear the thought of setting up for Christmas and Phoebe cancelling on me at the very last minute, so I might go early and enjoy a fancy hotel to myself before I board the ship, if I have to.
Though things seem to be thawing with Phoebe, thank goodness. I’m meeting her later today.
“Actually, Dirk, we probably won’t even be neighbors by then, so there’ll be no more embarrassing moments for you in the stairwell, trying to avoid me.
My apartment’s for sale, as you no doubt know.
I hope to buy it for myself, but I might not be successful.
I might have to move out soon. So you could just come along on the cruise and have some fun.
I promise I won’t make you join the deck exercises.
” She’s sparkling again, as if she’s forgiven me, as if the future could only be rosy. Her optimism is infectious.
“Thanks for the invitation, Lucy,” I say. “I’ll think about it.” There’s no way I can go on a cruise with Lucy. I can’t trust myself to see her every day and every night, and not lead her on, much as I might enjoy it. I’m not interested in having affairs. Marriage? Is she serious?
“Good,” she says. “Do that. You think about it.” And she gives me the kind of smile that lifts my heart. I like making this woman happy; can’t actually remember whose idea it was that we stop seeing each other.
“We could make it a honeymoon cruise, Dirk. The captain can marry people. I’ll send you the link.”
She lets herself out of my apartment and runs back down the stairs, dust motes spiraling and a trace of tropical perfume in her wake – plumeria?