Matters Of The Heart

Chapter 7

Finn stayed at the Hotel Mercer for the next two weeks. He met with his agent and publisher, taped two interviews, and saw Hope every chance he got. He was ever present, ever willing to adjust his schedule for her, and wanted to spend every moment with her that he could. Hope was startled by how fast the relationship was moving, although they hadn’t slept together, but she enjoyed his company. She was torn between reminding herself that this was more than likely just a passing thing for him, and wanting to believe it was real, and allowing herself to be vulnerable to him. He was so open, kind, loving, attentive, and they had such a good time together, it was impossible to resist. He couldn’t do enough for her, and did everything imaginable to please her, with a myriad of thoughtful gestures. He brought her flowers, chocolates, books. More and more, she was letting herself be swept away on the tidal wave of emotions he engulfed her with. And after three weeks of constantly being in each other’s company, he said something that brought her up short, as they walked through Washington Square Park one afternoon on their way back downtown from a long walk.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” he said earnestly, as she had a hand tucked into his arm. They had been talking about Renaissance art, and the beauty of the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, which they had discovered that they both loved, and Finn was very knowledgeable about. He had many interests and numerous talents, not unlike Hope. They seemed a perfect match in so many ways. And he was by far one of the most interesting men she had ever met, and the most attentive. He was truly the handsome prince of whom every woman dreamed, and loving at the same time. He asked her about all the things she cared about and wanted, and they were constantly surprised to discover they loved many of the same things. He was like the mirror image of her soul.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling up at him with a tender look in her eyes. There was no question, she was falling in love with him, after knowing him for only weeks. It had never happened to her before. Not even with Paul. Her romance with Finn was moving with the speed of sound. “Whatever it is, it’s wonderful. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.” She had a feeling that if she talked to someone about their budding relationship, they wouldn’t understand it, and would tell her to take her time before jumping in. She was, but she also had a powerful sense that this was a man and a situation she could trust. She didn’t doubt it. There was no reason to. She knew who he was, and there was a soft hidden side of him that touched her to the core.

“This is fusion,” he said softly. “Where two people become one.”

She looked at him with an inquisitive expression, startled by the word and asked him what he meant.

“Sometimes when people fall in love,” he explained, “they are so close and so well suited to each other, that they blend together, and you can’t tell where one person starts and the other ends. They merge, and can’t live without each other after that.” It sounded a little frightening to her, and not what she had in mind. She and Paul had had a good marriage until he got sick, and Mimi died, but they had never “fused” or become one person. They were two very distinct people, with different personalities and needs and thoughts. It had always worked well for them.

“I don’t think I agree with you,” she said quietly. “I think you can be just as much in love as separate people, standing beside each other, each one whole and adding to the other, or complementing each other, without ‘fusing’ and becoming one. That sounds unhealthy to me,” she said honestly. “That’s not really what I want,” she said firmly. “I want to be a whole, individual person, and I love the whole person you are, Finn. We don’t need to be one. Then each of us would lose an important part of ourselves that makes us who we are as people.” Finn looked disappointed by what she said. It was the first time they had disagreed.

“I want to be part of you,” he said sadly. “I need you, Hope. It’s only been a short time, but I already feel like you’re a part of me.” It still didn’t sound right to her, even if it was flattering or meant he loved her. It sounded claustrophobic and extreme, especially so soon. They hardly knew each other. How could they fuse into one person? And why would they want to? They had both worked hard to become who they were. She didn’t want to lose that now. She was falling in love with who and what he was, she didn’t want to fall in love with herself. It felt all wrong.

“Maybe you don’t love me as much as I love you,” he said, looking worried and hurt.

“I’m falling in love with you,” she said, looking up at him with her deep violet eyes. “There’s a lot we need to learn about each other. I want to savor that. You’re a very special person,” she said gently.

“So are you. So are we,” he insisted. “Our two parts make one bigger, better whole.”

“That’s possible,” she conceded, “but I don’t want either of us to lose who we are in the process. We’ve both worked too hard to achieve what we have, to lose that now. I want to stand next to you, Finn, not be you. And why would you want to be me?”

“Because I love you,” he said, pulling her close to him, and stopping to kiss her hard. “I love you more than you know.” The way he said it was touching, not scary, but it was too much in such a short time. “Maybe I’ll always love you more,” he said, looking pensive, as they walked on again. “I think there’s always one person in a couple who loves more than the other. I’m willing to be that one,” he said generously, and it made her feel slightly guilty. She thought she loved him, but she had loved Paul for so many years, it was going to take her time to get used to Finn, and settle him in her heart. She had to get to know him better first, and there was plenty of opportunity. They were with each other constantly, except when she went back to her loft to sleep at night. He changed the subject then, and she was relieved. Not only did she have to get used to loving him, his notion of fusion made her uncomfortable, and it wasn’t what she wanted in a relationship or had in mind. “What are we doing this weekend?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before she answered. “I was thinking it might be nice to go to the Cape. I’d like you to see the house. It’s very simple, but it’s a relic of my childhood. That house means a lot to me.” He smiled as soon as she said it.

“I was hoping you’d ask me up there,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t we spend more than a weekend there, if you can spare the time? It might do us both good.” He was in no hurry to go back to Ireland. They were both masters of their own fate and time, and he was enjoying the time he was spending with her, getting to know her. And he was in no hurry to get back to his writing, he said. She was more important to him.

“I guess we could spend four or five days, or even a week. It can get very bleak in winter, and cold. Let’s see how the weather is when we get there.” He nodded and agreed.

“When do you want to go?” he asked, looking excited. She had no pressing assignments at the moment. Her schedule was clear, and so was his, other than the editing he had to finish. They were going to a party at the MOMA that night, and he had a publishing event to attend the following week. They were both enjoying discovering each other’s worlds, and in each case, they left the limelight to the other and were happy to take a backseat. It seemed like a perfect balance between two well-known, successful, creative people, whose worlds complemented each other. It was just what she had said earlier, they stood beside each other, without having to fuse into one person. Everything about that idea seemed wrong to her.

“Why don’t we go to the Cape tomorrow?” Hope suggested. “Bring lots of warm stuff with you.” And then she looked faintly embarrassed to broach a delicate subject, but she wanted to speak up clearly. “I’m not ready for us to sleep together, Finn. Are you okay with sleeping in the guest room?” It had been a long time since Paul, and she wanted to be sure of what she was doing. There had been no one of importance in her life since her husband, which made this a much bigger deal. Whatever it was, if it was going to be lasting or not, she had to figure it out, and what she felt about it, before she took that leap.

“That’s fine,” he said with an understanding look. He seemed to have an unlimited ability to make her feel comfortable and happy. He let her set the pace, be as close or as distant from him as she felt at any given moment. He was the kindest, most loving man she had ever met. He was truly a dream come true. And if she had been praying for a man to come into her life, which she wasn’t when he turned up, he would have been the answer to those prayers. There was nothing about him she didn’t like so far, or that made her uneasy, except perhaps his silly ideas about fusion, but she was sure it was just his way of expressing insecurities and wanting to be loved. And she was coming to love him, for who he was, not for being a part of her. Hope was a very independent person, and she hadn’t come through all she had by being part of someone else, nor did she want to start now. And she knew that her monks in Tibet wouldn’t have approved of that idea at all.

The party they went to at the museum that night was lively and crowded. It was an important event-the opening of a major show. The main curator of the museum came to talk to her and she introduced him to Finn. They chatted for a few minutes, and several photographers snapped their picture for the press. They made a striking pair. It was definitely a milieu where Hope was the star, and Finn was less well known, until they heard his name. But being somewhat in the background didn’t seem to bother him in the least. He was warm, friendly, charming, and unassuming, even though he was the famous Sir Finn O’Neill. No one who would have seen him would have thought he was a show-off, or arrogant in any way. He was more than happy to let Hope be the star she was at the museum event, and he seemed to enjoy talking to lots of people and admiring the art. He was in good spirits when they took a cab back to the hotel. They were leaving for Cape Cod in the morning.

“I miss you when we’re in a crowd like that,” he confessed as she snuggled next to him in the taxi. She had had a good time, and had been proud to be with him. It felt so good being part of a couple again. She didn’t need it to complete her, but it was nice having him there, and talking to him about the party afterward. She had missed that since her divorce. Parties were always more fun if you could gossip about them later with a mate. “You looked beautiful,” he complimented her readily, as he had several times that evening. “And I was so proud to be with you. I really enjoyed the evening, but I have to admit, I love having you to myself. It’s going to be great to have some time alone in Cape Cod.”

“Having both in one’s life is nice,” Hope commented peacefully with her head on his shoulder. “It’s exciting to go out and meet people sometimes, and then it’s nice to have quiet time alone.”

“I hate sharing you with your adoring public,” he teased her. “I like it best when we’re alone. Everything is so fresh and new right now, it feels like an intrusion when anyone else is around.” The way he said it flattered her, that he was so anxious for time with her, but there were definitely times when she enjoyed the company of her peers and colleagues, and once in a while, even their admiration. For her, it had been part of life ever since she’d gone back to work, although she always benefited from solitary moments too. But it touched her that Finn was so anxious to be with her, and to not waste a single moment they could spend alone. They would have plenty of time together at the Cape.

“You have your adoring public too,” she reminded him, and he hung his head in embarrassment in a burst of humility rarely seen and that no one would have expected of him. It surprised her at times that for a man so well known in his field, and so strikingly good looking, he didn’t seem narcissistic to her at all. He wasn’t selfish or self-centered, he took pride in her accomplishments, was discreet about his own, and had no need to be the center of attention. And whatever flaws he had that she had not discovered yet, a big ego was not among them. He was a gem.

They left for Cape Cod at nine o’clock the next morning, in a Suburban he had rented for the week, since Hope no longer kept a car in New York. Whenever she needed one, she rented one herself. Living in the city, it made more sense, and she didn’t go up to Cape Cod very often anymore. She hadn’t been there since September, four months before. She was thrilled to be going with Finn now, and have the opportunity to share it with him. For a man who loved nature, solitude, and time alone with her, it was the perfect place for them to go.

She was determined not to sleep with him that weekend, and already knew what guest room she would put him in. It was actually the room she had spent summers in as a child, and it was next door to her parents’ old room, which she lived in now and had for years.

She and Paul had spent summers there during most of their marriage. And at the time, the simplicity of it had suited them both, although with the windfall he had made from the sale of his company, Paul’s life was grander now. And if anything, Hope’s had gotten less cluttered over the years. She had no need for luxuries, unusual comforts, or excess of any kind. She was a very unassuming, straightforward person, and enjoyed a simple life. And Finn said he did too.

They stopped for lunch at the Griswold Inn, in Essex, Connecticut, on the way to the Cape, and as they drove past an exit for Boston, Finn mentioned his son at MIT.

“Why don’t we stop and visit him?” Hope asked with a bright smile. After all she’d heard about him, she wanted to meet him, and Finn laughed.

“He’d probably fall over if I stopped in to see him. Actually, they’re not back yet after the winter break. He said he was going to Paris after skiing in Switzerland with his friends, or he may be back at my place in London. Maybe we could stop in to visit some other time. I’d like you to meet him.”

“So would I,” Hope said warmly.

They drove on to Wellfleet after Providence and they reached the house at four in the afternoon, as the light was starting to get dim. The roads had been clear, but it looked like it might snow, and it was bitter cold, with a stiff wind. She directed Finn to drive into the driveway, which was slightly overgrown. The house stood apart from all the others, and there was tall dune grass all around. It seemed bleak at that time of year, and Finn commented that it looked like a Wyeth painting that they’d seen at the museum, which made Hope smile. She’d never thought of the house that way before, but he was right, it did. It was an old barn-shaped New England structure, painted gray with white shutters. In summer, there were flowers out front, but there were none now. The gardener she hired to come once a month cut everything back in winter, and he wouldn’t even bother to come now until spring. There was nothing for him to do there. And the house looked sad and deserted with the shutters closed. But the view of the ocean from the dune it sat on was spectacular and the beach stretched out for miles. Hope smiled as she stood looking at it with him. It always made her feel peaceful being there. She put an arm around his waist and he leaned down to kiss her, and then she took her keys out of her bag, opened the door, turned off the alarm, and walked in, with Finn right behind her. The shutters were closed against the wind, so she turned on the lights. Dusk was coming fast.

What he saw when she lit the lamps was a beautiful wood-paneled room. The wood was bleached, as were the floors, and the furniture was stark and simple. She had redone the couches a few years before because they were so worn. The fabrics were the pale blue of a summer sky, the curtains were a simple muslin, there were hooked rugs, plain New England furniture, a stone fireplace, and her photographs were all over the walls. It had a stark simplicity and unpretentiousness that made it easy to be there, particularly in the summer, with the breeze coming off the ocean, sand on the floor, and everyone going barefoot. It was the perfect beach house, and Finn immediately responded to it with a warm smile. It was the kind of house every child should spend a summer in, and Hope had, and so had her daughter. There was a big country kitchen, with a round antique table, and blue and white tiles on the walls that had been there since the house was built. The place looked lived in and well worn, and more important, much loved.

“What a wonderful place,” Finn said, as he put his arms around her and kissed her.

“I’m glad you like it,” Hope said, looking happy. “I would have been sad if you didn’t.” They went outside together then to open the shutters, and when they came back in, the view of Cape Cod Bay at sunset was spectacular. He wanted to go for a walk on the beach, but it was too late and too cold.

They had brought groceries with them, which they had bought in Wellfleet, and unpacked them together. It felt like playing house and she looked happy. She hadn’t done that in years, and with Finn, she loved it. Then he went out to get their suitcases and she told him where to put them. He walked upstairs to their bedrooms, set them down, and looked around. Hope’s photos hung in every room, and there were a lot of old photographs of her with her parents, and Mimi with her and Paul. It was a real family summer home that spanned generations and warmed hearts.

“I wish I had had a house like this when I was growing up,” Finn said as he strode back into the kitchen, his hair still disheveled by the wind, which only made him look more handsome. “My parents had a very stuffy, boring place in Southampton, which I never liked. It was full of antiques and things I wasn’t allowed to touch. It wasn’t like being at the beach. This is the real deal.”

“Yes, it is.” She smiled at him. “I love that about it too. That’s why I keep it. I don’t get here often enough anymore, but I love it when I do.” There were too many memories and friendly ghosts here for her to ever give it up. “It’s not fancy, but that’s what I love about it. It’s fantastic in the summer. As a kid, I spent all my time on the beach, and so did Mimi. I still do.”

She was making a salad as she said it to him, and they were going to make steaks on the grill. The kitchen appliances were modern and functional, and often in summer they barbecued, but it was too cold to do that now. Finn set the table, and lit a fire. And a little while later, he made the steaks, and she warmed some soup and French bread they’d bought at the store. They set some French cheeses on a platter, and when they sat down at the kitchen table, it was a hearty meal. Finn opened a bottle of red wine he’d bought, and they each had a glass. It was a perfect dinner in the cozy house, and then they sat in front of the fire, telling stories of their respective childhoods.

Hers had been simple and wholesome in New Hampshire, near the Dartmouth campus, since her father was an English literature professor there. Her mother had been a talented artist, and her childhood had been happy, despite the fact that she was an only child. She said it had never bothered her not to have siblings. She had had a great time with her parents and their friends, and was included at everything they did. She spent a lot of her time visiting her father at his office on the campus. He had been devastated when she decided to go to Brown instead, as a seventeen-year-old freshman, but they had a better photography department. It was where she ultimately met Paul. She met him at nineteen, and married him at twenty-one, when he was thirty-seven. She said that both her parents had died within the first few years she was married. It was a huge loss to her. Her father died of a heart attack, and within a year, her mother of cancer. She couldn’t live without him.

“See what I mean?” Finn commented. “That’s what I meant by fusion. It’s what real relationships should be, but it can be a dangerous thing sometimes, if things don’t work out in a relationship, or one of the partners dies. Like Siamese twins, one can’t survive without the other.” It still didn’t seem like a good thing to Hope, particularly citing her mother’s untimely death as an example. Hope had no desire to be anyone’s Siamese twin, but she didn’t comment. She knew he loved the theory, but she didn’t. And for her, it had been a hard blow to lose both parents so close together. She had inherited the Cape Cod house from them, and sold their old Victorian near Dartmouth. She said that she still had all her mother’s paintings in storage. They were good, but not quite her style, although she clearly had talent, and occasionally taught a class at Dartmouth, but she had no interest in teaching, unlike Hope’s father, who was gifted, much loved, and deeply respected at the school for all the years he taught there.

By comparison, Finn’s youth was far more exotic. He had already told her that his father was a doctor and his mother an extremely beautiful woman.

“I think my mother always felt she married beneath her. She had a broken engagement before that to a duke in Ireland. He was killed in a riding accident, and shortly after that, she married my father and went to New York with him, where he had a very substantial practice, but her family was much fancier than his, and she always lorded it over him. I think she missed having a title, since her father was an earl, and she would have been a duchess if her fiancé hadn’t died.

“She always had frail health when I was little, so I didn’t see a lot of her. I always had some young girl taking care of me, whom they brought over from Ireland, while my mother had the vapors and went to parties, and complained about my father. The home I have in Ireland now originally belonged to her great-grandfather, and I think it would have made her happy that it is back in the family now. It means a lot to me because of it.

“My father was always very disappointed that I didn’t want to be a doctor like him, but it just wasn’t for me. He made an excellent living and always supported my mother handsomely, but it was never quite enough for her. He wasn’t titled, and she hated living in New York. I’m not sure they were ever very happy, although they were discreet about it. I never saw them fighting, but there was a distinct chill in our Park Avenue apartment, which my mother hated, because it wasn’t Ireland, although our home was beautiful and filled with antiques. She just wasn’t a happy woman. And now that I live there, I can see why. The Irish are a special breed, they love their country, their hills, their houses, their history, even their pubs. I’m not sure you can take an Irish person away and have them be happy somewhere else. They pine for their own country, and it must be in the genes, because the minute I walked into my great-great-grandfather’s house, I knew I was home. It was as though it had been waiting for me all my life. I knew it the minute I saw it.

“My parents died fairly young too, in a road accident together. I think if she had lived, and my father hadn’t, she’d have gone back to Ireland then. It was all she waited for during all the years of their married life in New York. I suppose she loved my father, in her own way, but she wanted to go home. So I did it for her.” He smiled sadly. “I hope you come and visit me there, Hope. It’s the most beautiful place on earth. You can walk in the hills for hours, amid the wildflowers, without ever seeing a soul. The Irish are an odd combination of soulful, solitary, and then wildly gregarious in the pubs. I think that’s how I am, sometimes I just need to be alone, and at other times I love being around people, and having fun. At home, I’m either locked up, writing, or having a good laugh in the local pub.”

“It sounds like a good life,” Hope said, nestled in beside him on the couch, as the fire died slowly. It had been a lovely evening, and she felt wonderfully comfortable with him, as though they had known each other for years. She liked hearing the stories of his childhood, and his parents, although it sounded lonely in some ways. His mother didn’t sound like a happy person, and his father had been busy all the time with his patients, and neither of them seemed to have had much time for him. He said it was why he had started writing, and was a voracious reader as a child and young man. Reading, and eventually writing, was his escape from an essentially lonely childhood, despite their very comfortable Park Avenue life. Her far simpler life had been much happier with her own parents in New Hampshire and Cape Cod.

Finn and Hope had both married young, so they had that in common. They were both artistic in different fields. They were both only children, and their own children were only two years apart, so they had become parents at roughly the same time. And for very different reasons, their marriages had failed. Hers for complicated reasons, and his officially when his wife died, but he readily admitted that his marriage to Michael’s mother had never really worked, and probably would have ended in divorce if she hadn’t died, which was traumatic for him and their child. Finn said she was totally narcissistic, beautiful, and spoiled, and essentially badly behaved. She had cheated on him several times. He had been enamored with her beauty as a young man, and then overwhelmed by what it entailed. There was a lot of common ground between Finn and Hope, in many ways, although their marriages had been different, and his son was still alive. But there were many common points, and they were nearly the same age, only two years apart.

When the fire finally went out, she turned off the lights, and they walked upstairs. He had already found his bedroom when he brought the bags up and had seen hers. She had a small double bed in the cozy room that had been her parents’, and the bed always felt too big for her now without Paul. The one in the room Finn was staying in was so small that Hope looked embarrassed and said that maybe they should trade, although hers didn’t look big enough for him either.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, and tenderly kissed her goodnight. And then they each disappeared into their rooms. She was in bed five minutes later in a heavy cashmere nightgown with socks, and she laughed when Finn called out a last goodnight in the small house.

“Sweet dreams,” she shouted back, and turned over in the dark, thinking of him. They had known each other for so little time, but she had never felt so close to anyone in her life. For a minute, she wondered if his fusion theory was correct, but she didn’t want it to be. She wanted to believe that they could love each other, but keep their distinct lives, personalities, and talents intact. That still felt right to her. Thinking about him, she was awake for a long time. She was remembering the things he had said about his childhood and how lonely it sounded to her. She wondered if that was why he was so anxious to be part of someone else. His mother didn’t sound like much of one to her. And it was interesting to think that while he said that his mother was beautiful and dissatisfied, he had married a woman who was also beautiful and selfish and hadn’t been a good mother to their son. It was odd how, in some cases, history repeated itself, and people re-created the same miseries that had tormented them as children. She wondered if perhaps he had tried to get a different ending to the same story, and hadn’t succeeded in the end.

As she thought about it, she heard a thump that sounded like Finn had fallen out of bed, punctuated by a loud “Fuck,” which made her laugh, and she went to check on him, padding down the hall in her nightgown and cashmere socks.

“Are you okay?” she whispered in the dark, and heard him laugh.

“The chest of drawers attacked me when I went to the loo.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” She sounded worried about him, and felt guilty about the small room he was in.

“I’m bleeding profusely,” he said in a tone of anguish. “I need a nurse.”

“Should I call 911?” She laughed back.

“No, some hairy paramedic will give me mouth to mouth, and I’ll have to knee him in the groin. How about a kiss?” She moved into the room and sat down on the narrow bed that had once been hers, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. “I miss you,” he whispered.

“I miss you too,” she whispered back. And then hesitantly, “Do you want me to sleep in here?”

He laughed out loud. “In this bed? Now, that would be a contortionist’s act I’d like to see you do. That isn’t what I had in mind.” There was a long silence, and he didn’t push. He had promised that they would sleep in separate rooms and not have sex, and he was determined to keep his word, although he would have preferred otherwise, and she felt foolish now for suggesting it.

“I guess this is kind of stupid, huh? We’re in love with each other, and I guess no one’s keeping track.”

“Something like that,” he said gently, “but it’s up to you, my love. I’m happy to sleep here, if that’s what you want. As long as you take me to a chiropractor tomorrow, so he can fix my back.” She laughed again, and pulled the covers off him unceremoniously, as he sat up.

“Come on. Let’s be grown up.” She held out a hand to him and led him to her room, and he didn’t object. But he had left the choice up to her. Without commenting on it further, they both climbed into her bed, and as they lay side by side in the small double bed, he took her in his arms.

“I love you, Hope,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Finn,” she whispered back. And then without another word of discussion or explanation, or mention of fusion, he made love to her as no one ever had in her life.