Safe Harbour

“What are you and your mom doing tonight?” he asked casually. “I was going to call her, and ask if you wanted to go into town for a hamburger. I'd cook for you, but I'm a rotten cook and I ran out of frozen pizza.” Pip laughed at their comparable menus.

“I'll ask Mom when I go home, and tell her to call you.”

“I'll give you time to get home, and then call her.” But as she got up, and he saw her start down the beach, he saw that she was limping, and called after her. “Pip!” She turned when she heard him, and he waved her back. It was a long walk for someone who had just had stitches taken out, and the sneakers had rubbed where the scar was. She walked slowly back to him as he beckoned. “I'll give you a ride home. The foot doesn't look too great.”

“I'm okay,” she said gamely, but he was no longer worried about her mother.

“Don't wear it out, you won't be able to come back tomorrow.”

It was a good point, and she followed him willingly over the dune, to where his car was parked behind his cottage. He had her home five minutes later. He didn't get out of the car, but Ophélie saw him from the kitchen window and came out to greet him.

“She was limping,” he said by way of explanation. “I figured you wouldn't mind my driving her.” He smiled easily at her.

“Of course not. That was sweet of you. Thanks, Matt. How are you?”

“Fine. I was going to call you. Can I lure the two of you to dinner in town tonight? Hamburgers and indigestion. Or maybe not, if we're lucky.”

“That sounds nice.” She hadn't thought about what to cook yet. And although her spirits had improved somewhat, her culinary interest hadn't. She had given it her best shot the night he'd come to dinner. “Are you sure that's not too much trouble?” Life was so easy at the beach, and so casual, meals were never formal, and didn't seem terribly important. Most people barbecued, but Ophélie wasn't very good at it.

“I'd enjoy it,” Matt said. “How about seven?”

“Perfect. Thank you.” He drove off with a wave, and was back, punctually, two hours later. Pip had shampooed her hair, at her mother's urging, to get the sand out of it, and Ophélie's hair looked pretty too. It hung in long soft waves and a few graceful curls to below her shoulders. And as a symbol of her slowly reviving spirit, she had worn lipstick. And Pip loved it.

They had dinner in one of the two local restaurants, the Lobster Pot, and all three of them ate clam chowder and lobster. They decided en masse to make a real feast of it, and forget the hamburgers, and all of them complained on the way out that they could hardly move. But it had been a fun evening. No serious topics were introduced, and they exchanged funny stories and bad jokes, and laughed a lot. Ophélie asked Matt if he wanted to come in afterward, but he only stayed for a few minutes. He said there was some work he wanted to do. And after he left, Ophélie commented to Pip again how nice he was, and she turned to her mother with an impish grin.

“Do you like him, Mom? You know… like a guy, I mean.” Ophélie looked startled by the question, and then smiled as she shook her head.

“Your father was the only guy for me. I can't imagine ever being with anyone else.” She had said as much to the group, and many of them had challenged her, but Pip didn't dare. She was disappointed to hear it. She liked Matt. And she didn't want to make her mother mad, but her father hadn't always been nice to her. He used to yell at her, and was mean to her sometimes, especially when they argued over Chad, or other things. She loved her father, and always would, but she thought Matt was a lot friendlier and easier to be with.

“Matt's really nice though, don't you think?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, I do.” Ophélie smiled again, amused that Pip was trying to matchmake for her, but it was obvious that Pip had a crush on him, or a serious case of hero worship at least. “He's going to be a good friend to us, I hope. It would be nice to see him after we leave the beach.”

“He said he'd come to town to visit us. And he's going to take me to the father-daughter dinner at school. Remember?”

“Yes, I do.” She just hoped he would. Ted had never been good about that. He hated going to his children's sports events, or anything at their schools. It wasn't his thing, although he did it when he had no other choice. “He's probably pretty busy though, Pip.” They were the same excuses she had always made for Ted, and that his children hated hearing. There was always some excuse why he couldn't be there for them.

“He said he'd be there for sure,” Pip said fiercely, looking at her mother with huge, trusting eyes, and Ophélie hoped she wouldn't be disappointed. It was impossible to know at this point if their friendship would last, but she hoped it would.

9

ANDREA CAME OUT AND VISITED THEM AGAIN TWO weeks before they left the beach. The baby was fussy and had a cold again, and she said he was getting teeth. This time, he cried whenever Pip held him. He wanted his mommy and no one else. So after a while, Pip took off down the beach. She was going to sit for Matt that day. He wanted to have plenty of sketches of her for the portrait he'd promised to do, as a gift for Ophélie.

“So what's new? Anything?” Andrea asked as the baby finally fell asleep.

“Nothing much,” Ophélie said, looking relaxed as they sat in the sun. The last golden days of summer had set in, and they were loving their final days at the beach. And Andrea thought Ophélie looked better than she had in months. The three months at Safe Harbour had done her a world of good. She hated to see her go back to the city, and her sad memories in the house.

“How's the child molester?” Andrea asked casually, she knew they had befriended him finally, and she was still curious about him. They hadn't met. And from Pip's description, he sounded like a hunk. Ophélie had said very little, which Andrea thought was suspicious. But Andrea saw nothing secretive in her eyes. No magic. No carefully hidden agenda. No guilt. She looked very relaxed.

“He's so good with Pip. We had dinner with him the other night.”

“That's odd for a man with no kids,” Andrea commented.

“He has two.”

“Then that makes sense. Did you meet them?”

“They live in New Zealand, with his ex-wife.”

“Uh-oh. How's that? Does he hate her? How bad is the damage?” She was an expert in the field, and by now she had seen it all. Men who'd been cheated on, ripped off, abandoned, lied to, screwed over, left, and hated every woman in their life from then on. Not to mention the ones who were sexually confused, still in a relationship, had lost wives who had been absolutely perfect, men who'd never married and were middle-aged, and those who forgot to mention that they were still married. Older, younger, same age. Andrea had dated them all. And she was willing to cross a number of boundaries, when she found a man she liked. Even damaged, they were sometimes fun for a while. But she at least preferred knowing what the damage was.

“I'd say there's a fair amount of damage,” Ophélie said honestly, “and I feel bad for him. But it's not my concern. He got pretty badly screwed over by his ex-wife. She walked off with his best friend, and married him. She forced Matt to sell their business, and seems to have estranged him from his kids.”

“Oh my God, what else did she do? Slash his tires and set fire to his car? What else was left?”

“Not much, from the sound of it. He got a lot of money for their ad agency, I suspect, but I don't think he really cares.”

“At least that explains why he was so friendly with Pip. He must miss his kids.”

“He does,” Ophélie said, thinking about the things they'd said the night he came to dinner. It had definitely touched her heart.

“How long ago was the divorce?” Andrea had a clinical look on her face, and Ophélie laughed.

“About ten years ago, I think. Give or take. He hasn't seen his kids in six, or heard from them. They cut him off.”

“Maybe he is a child molester, then. Either that, or his ex is a piece of work. More likely that. Has he had a serious relationship since?”

“One. She wanted to get married and have kids. He didn't. I think he's too wounded to try again, and I can't say I blame him. What he describes is about as bad as it gets.”

“Forget it,” Andrea said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, shaking her head. “Trust me. Too much baggage. This guy's a mess.”

“Not as a friend,” Ophélie said calmly. She didn't want anything from Matt, other than his friendship. She didn't want a relationship either. She had Ted, in her head and heart. She didn't want anyone else.

“You don't need a friend,” Andrea said practically. “You have me. You need a man in your life. And this one is too damaged. I've seen guys like that. They never get their shit together again. How old is he?”

“Forty-seven.”

“Too bad. But I'm telling you. You'd be wasting your time.”

“I'm not wasting anything,” Ophélie said with quiet determination. “I don't want a man in my life. Now or ever again. I had Ted. I don't want anyone else.”

“You had problems with him, Ophélie, and you know it. I don't want to bring up ugly memories, but there was a little incident about ten years ago, if you'll recall.…” Their eyes met and Ophélie looked away.

“That was a one-time thing. It was an accident. A mistake. He never did it again.”

“You don't know that. He might have. And whether he did or not is irrelevant. He wasn't a saint, he was a man. A very, very difficult man who gave you a tough time sometimes, like with Chad. Everything was about him. You're the only woman I know who could have put up with him for as long as you did. He was a genius, I concede that, but no matter how much I liked him, and you loved him, he was a sonofabitch at times. The only person he really cared about was himself. He wasn't exactly a gift.”

“He was to me,” Ophélie said stubbornly, upset by what Andrea had said, whether true or not. He had been difficult, but men of his caliber and genius were entitled to be, or she thought so anyway. Andrea didn't agree. “I loved him for twenty years. That's not going to change overnight, or ever.”

“Maybe not. And I know he loved you too, in his own way,” Andrea said gently, afraid she had gone too far. But Andrea didn't pull any punches with her friend, and never had. And if nothing else, Andrea felt Ophélie needed to free herself of Ted now, and her delusions about him, in order to have a life. Ophélie and Ted had had their differences over the years, and the incident she had been referring to, which Ophélie said was a “mistake,” was an affair he had had one summer while Ophélie and the children were in France. And it had been a total mess. He had nearly left Ophélie over it, and she had been heartbroken. Andrea had never been sure if things were quite the same between them again. It was hard to say. After that Chad got sick, and things got worse between them anyway. But the affair couldn't have helped. Despite the fact that Ophélie had been willing to forgive him. It was a liberty he had not only taken, but allowed himself. Ted had had a sense of entitlement on all fronts.

“The real issue here is not how good or bad he was, but that he's gone. He's never coming back. You're here, and he's not. You can take as long as you need to recover, but you can't stay alone forever.”

“Why not?” Ophélie looked sad as she asked. She didn't want another man in her life. She was used to Ted. Familiarity was part of it. She couldn't even imagine herself with another man. She had been with him since she was twenty-two, and married since she was twenty-four. At forty-two, she couldn't even begin to imagine starting all over again. She didn't want to. It was easier to be alone. Which was Matt's conclusion too. They were both the walking wounded, which was another thing they had in common.

“You're too young to stay alone,” Andrea said quietly. She was the voice of reason, and of the future. Ophélie was steadfastly clinging to the past. And in some ways, a past that had never existed, except in her heart and imagination. “You have to let go eventually. Maybe not now. But sooner or later. You're only halfway through your life. You can't even begin to think of being alone forever. That's ridiculous, and a terrible waste.”

“Not if it's what I want,” Ophélie said stubbornly.

“You don't want that. No one does. You just don't want the pain of exploring. And I don't blame you. It's rotten out there. I've lived there all my adult life. I hate it. But someone is bound to turn up eventually. A good one. Maybe even better than Ted.” There was no one better in Ophélie's estimation, but she didn't argue the point with Andrea. “But I don't think your child molester is the answer. He sounds pretty screwed up, or maybe just screwed over. But either way, I don't think he's the guy you want, except as a friend. I think you're right there. But that means that eventually, you're going to have to find someone else.”

“I'll let you know when I'm ready, and you can leave my name on bathroom walls, or hand out leaflets. Come to think of it, there's a man in my group who's desperate to get remarried. He might be just the thing.”

“Stranger things have happened. Widows meet guys on cruises, at art classes, in grief groups. At least you'd have a lot in common. Who is he?”

“Mr. Feigenbaum. He's a retired butcher, he loves opera and the theater, is a gourmet cook, has four grown children, and he's eighty-three.”

“Perfect.” Andrea grinned. “I'll take him. I can tell you're not taking this seriously.”

“No, I'm not, but I appreciate your concern.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet. I intend to stay on your back.”

“That,” Ophélie said with a very Gallic raised eyebrow, “I believe.” And with that, the baby woke up with a scream.

And while they were chatting on the deck, far down the beach, Matt was making careful sketches of Pip, and he took two rolls of black-and-white film. He was excited about doing the portrait, and had promised her it would be ready in time for her mother's birthday, and probably long before.

“I'm going to miss you when we leave,” Pip said sadly after he'd taken the photographs of her. She loved coming down to sit with him, and talk and draw for hours. He had become her best friend.

“I'm going to miss you too.” He was being honest with her. “I'll come into the city to visit you and your mom. But you're going to be busy with your friends once you go back to school.” Her life would be far fuller than his, he knew. And it startled him to realize how much he had come to depend on seeing her nearly every day. She had kept him company for most of the summer.

“That's not the same thing,” Pip chided him. Their friendship was special, and she relied on him too. He had become her confidant and best friend, and in some ways, a substitute for her father. He was the father Ted had never been. In many ways, Pip felt he was nicer to her than her father had been. Her father had never spent as much time with her as Matt did, nor been as kind to her. Or her mother. He had always had an edge to him, and got angry easily, especially at her mom or Chad, not as much with her. Because Pip had always been careful with him. He scared her a little. Although he'd been nicer to her when she was very young, she had pleasant memories of that, and less so in recent years. “I'm going to miss you a lot,” she said, near tears as she thought about it. She was going to hate leaving him at the beach. And Matt hated to see her go.

“I promise I'll come in whenever you want. We can go to the movies, or lunch, whatever you like, as long as it's all right with your mom.”

“She likes you too,” Pip said comfortably, not divulging any secrets. Her mother had said so openly, and agreed that he was a very nice man.

For a crazy instant, he was tempted to ask her what her father had really been like. In spite of everything Ophélie had said, he couldn't get a clear picture of Ted. The only portrait of him he could paint in his mind's eye was of a difficult, probably selfish tyrant, who may have been a genius, but more than likely wasn't very nice to his wife. Yet Ophélie had clearly worshiped him and made him sound like a saint now. But pieces of the puzzle didn't seem to fit. Particularly in his relationship with his son. And Matt didn't have the feeling he'd spent much time with Pip, she had almost said as much, in incidents she talked about, and stories she told. And it didn't sound as though he'd spent much time with his wife either. It was hard to get a clear picture. Particularly now that he was dead, and the normal tendency was to forget the unpleasant parts, and improve the rest. But he didn't want to put Pip on the spot.

“When do you go back to school?” he said finally.

“In two weeks. The day after we go back.”

“You'll be busy then,” he said reassuringly, but she looked sad anyway.

“Can I call you sometimes?” Pip asked, and he smiled.

“I'd like that very much.” She had been a gift to him, and she soothed a place in him that had been raw for a long time. She did something magical to fill the gaping hole in him his own kids had left. And he did the same for her. He was, in some ways, the father she had never had, and wished she did. Ted was an entirely different beast.

She left him after he packed up his things, and she walked back up the beach. Andrea was just leaving when she got home.

“How was Matt?” her mother asked pleasantly, as Pip kissed Andrea and the baby good-bye.

“Fine. He said to say hello to you.”

“Remember what I said,” Andrea reminded her, and Ophélie laughed.

“I told you. Mr. Feigenbaum is the answer.”

“Don't count on it. Guys like that marry their wives' sisters or best friends within six months. You'll still be trying to decide what to do long after he's remarried. It's a shame he's so old.”

“You're disgusting,” Ophélie said as she hugged her friend and kissed the baby, and then they left.

“Who's Mr. Feigenbaum?” Pip asked, curious. She'd never heard his name before.

“A man in my group. He's eighty-three years old and he's looking for a new wife.”

Pip's eyes opened wide. “Does he want to marry you?”

“No, he doesn't. And I don't want to marry him either. So everything's fine.” Pip had a sudden urge to ask her if she would ever marry Matt. She wished she would one day, but after what her mother had said recently, she knew there wasn't much chance of it. Probably none at all. But at least he had said he would visit them in town, and she really hoped he would.

Pip and her mother had a quiet dinner that night, and Pip mentioned to her that Matt had said he might call sometimes.

“He wanted to know if it was all right with you.”

“I don't see why not,” Ophélie said quietly. He seemed trustworthy and had proven himself as a friend. She had no qualms about it now, even though Andrea still referred to him as “the child molester,” but she had no concerns about that. “I think that would be nice. Maybe he'd like to have dinner with us sometime.”

“He said he'd take us out to dinner and a movie when he comes to the city.”

“That sounds like fun,” Ophélie said, not thinking about it much as she put the dishes in the dishwasher and Pip turned on the TV. Friendship with Matt wasn't what Andrea wanted for her, but it suited Ophélie. Their summer in Safe Harbour had been a success, and she and Pip had made a new friend.

10

IT WAS THE BEGINNING OF THEIR LAST WEEK WHEN Matt called Ophélie about sailing with him, on a brilliantly sunny day. They had just had two days of fog, and everyone was relieved to see a last burst of summer. As it turned out, it was the hottest day of the year. So much so that Pip and Ophélie had both gotten too hot, and had decided to go inside for lunch. They were just finishing the sandwiches Ophélie had made when Matt called. And Pip looked half asleep in the heat. She had been thinking about walking down to see Matt, but it was almost too hot to go, and the sun was blazing overhead. It was going to be the first day in a long time that she'd missed with him. But she didn't think he'd be outside painting either. It was a good day to swim, or sail, as Matt said himself when he called Ophélie.

“I've been meaning to ask you for weeks,” Matt said apologetically. He couldn't explain to her that he'd been too busy sketching Pip for her portrait. “It's so hot, I thought I'd take the boat out this afternoon. Can I interest you in a sail?” It sounded like a great idea to her too. It was too hot to sit on the deck, or the beach, and at least on the ocean, there would be a breeze. The wind had started to come up in the last hour, which was what had given him the idea. He'd been in the house all day, drawing Pip, from memory, photographs, and sketches he'd made of her on the beach.

“That sounds great,” Ophélie said enthusiastically. She still hadn't seen his boat, although she knew he was immensely fond of it, and had promised to take her sailing before she left. “Where do you keep her?”

“I have her moored at a private dock at a house on the lagoon side, just down from you. The owners are never there, and they don't mind the boat. They say it adds charm to the place when they're here. They moved to Washington last year. It worked out well for me.” He gave her the house number, and told her he'd meet her there in ten minutes. She told Pip what she was doing, and was surprised when Pip looked upset.

“Will you be okay, Mom?” Pip asked worriedly. “Is it safe? How big is the boat?” Listening to her, and seeing the look in her eyes, Ophélie was touched. It was exactly how she felt about her. Everything seemed more ominous now, which was why she'd been so upset earlier in the summer, when Pip disappeared down the beach. All they had now was each other. And danger was no longer an abstract concept to them. It was real. And tragedy a possibility they both knew existed. It had changed life forever for both of them. “I don't want you to go,” Pip said in a frightened voice, as Ophélie tried to decide what to do. They couldn't live in fear forever either. Maybe it was a good idea to show her that they could lead normal lives, and nothing terrible would happen. She felt no danger whatsoever about going out on the boat with Matt. And she was certain he was a supremely competent sailor. They had talked a lot about sailing. And he'd done a lot of it since he was a boy. Far more so than she. She hadn't been sailing herself in at least a dozen years. But she had some experience too, in far more treacherous waters than these.

“Sweetheart, I really think it will be fine. You can watch us from the deck.” Pip did not look reassured, but more like she was going to cry. “Do you really not want me to go?” It was an element she hadn't even considered when she told him she would. And she was going to ask Amy to come over. She had just seen her go into her house, so she knew she was home. Or Pip could even go there for a few hours, if Amy had things to do.

“What if you drown?” Pip asked in a strangled voice, and Ophélie sat down and pulled her gently onto her lap.

“I'm not going to drown. I'm a good swimmer. And so is Matt. I'll ask him for a life vest if you want.” Pip considered it for a moment and then nodded, reassured.

“Okay.” She looked slightly mollified and then visibly panicked again. “What if a shark attacks the boat?” Ophélie couldn't deny that there were shark sightings in those waters now and then, but there hadn't been one all summer.

“You've been watching too much TV. I promise. Nothing is going to happen. You can watch us. I just want to go out with him for a little while. Do you want to come with us?” Ophélie hadn't really wanted her to go, for some of the same reasons, which seemed foolish now. And Pip wasn't all that crazy about the water. She didn't want to scare her. Sailboats were her thing and not her daughter's. Pip shook her head the moment her mother asked her. “I'll tell you what. I'll tell Matt I want to be back in an hour. It's a beautiful day, and we'll be back before you know it. How does that sound?”

“Okay, I guess.” She looked forlorn as she said it, and Ophélie felt guilty. But she really wanted to sail with him, and see his boat, even if only for a few minutes. She was torn now, but it was beginning to seem important to prove to Pip that she could go and come back, and nothing untoward would happen. It was going to be part of the healing process for her.

She went to put shorts over a bathing suit, and called Amy to come and sit with Pip. The teenager had promised to be over in a few minutes, and by the time Ophélie was ready to leave, she was there. But before her mother left, Pip threw her arms around her and held her tight. It brought home to Ophélie just how hard hit Pip had been by her father and brother's deaths. She had never behaved this way before. But Ophélie hadn't gone anywhere either. She had spent most of the last ten months lying on her bed in tears.

“I'll be back soon, I promise. If it's not too hot, you can watch us from the deck. Okay?” She kissed Pip, and walked out the door in as swift and clean an exit as she could manage, while Mousse stood by and wagged his tail. But Ophélie was pensive as she walked down the road to the house where Matt kept his boat. His car was already there. And she found him a moment later, putting some things away on his boat. She was a lovely little sailboat in immaculate condition. It was easy to see how much he loved her by how beautifully he kept her. Everything on deck had been varnished, the brass shone, and the hull had been freshly painted white that spring. She had one mast, which rose forty feet in the air, with a mainsail and a jib, and a fair amount of sail for her size. She had a short bowsprit that made her look longer than her thirty feet, a small engine, and a tiny cabin with ceilings too low for Matt to stand up. And her name was Nessie II, named for the daughter he hadn't seen in six years. The elegant little sailboat was a gem, and Ophélie stood back with a smile as she admired her from the dock. “What a little beauty she is, Matt.” She meant every word of it and couldn't wait to sail with him.

“Isn't she?” He looked pleased. “I really wanted you to see her before you left.” And sailing on her was better yet. He was anxious to get under way. Ophélie took off her sandals, and he helped her on board. He started the engine, and she helped him get the lines off the dock. And a moment later, they were moving at a good clip down the lagoon toward the ocean. It was a perfect day for a sail.

“What a lovely boat!” Ophélie said again, admiring all the little details that he so lovingly tended to in his spare time. The pretty little sailboat was one of the joys of his life, and he was happy to be sharing it with her. “When was she built?” Ophélie asked with interest as they reached the mouth of the lagoon, and he moved into the ocean and turned off the engine, as they felt the breeze pick up. For a moment, Ophélie savored the delicious silence of the sailboat, as they felt the ocean beneath them, and the wind overhead as he put up the sails. She was easy for him to manage on his own, but without asking, Ophélie began to help him.

“She was built in 1936,” he said proudly. “I've had her for about eight years. I bought her from a man who had owned her since just after the war. She was in great shape, but I did a fair amount of restoration on her myself.”

“She's a jewel,” Ophélie said, and then remembered her promise to Pip. She stuck her head in the cabin, and grabbed a life vest that was hanging on a peg. Matt looked faintly surprised when he saw her put it on. She had told him she was a strong swimmer, and she loved to sail. “I promised Pip,” she answered the question in his eyes. And he nodded, as the wind caught their sails and they got under way. It was an exquisite feeling as the sailboat cut through the water with delicious grace. They exchanged the long, slow smile of two sailors enjoying the pleasure of the boat on a perfect day.

“Do you mind if we head out a bit?” he asked, as Ophélie shook her head, looking positively blissful. She didn't mind at all, as they left the beach and its row of houses far behind. She wondered if Pip was watching them, and hoped she was. They were a lovely sight. And then, as she sat beside him at the tiller, Ophélie told him about Pip's reaction before she left.

“I guess I didn't realize how anxious she's gotten since …” She didn't finish her sentence, and he understood, as Ophélie sat with her face up to the sun and closed her eyes. He wasn't sure which was the prettier sight, the sailboat that he loved, or the woman at his side.

They sailed for a long time in silence until the beach had all but disappeared. She had promised Pip they wouldn't stay out for long, but it was too tempting to just sail away and leave the world behind. She had almost forgotten what a relief it was to be sailing on a lovely boat. It was the most peaceful thing she knew. And she didn't mind at all when the wind came up. He was pleased to see that she really was a sailor, and was enjoying it as much as he had hoped she would. For a moment, she wished that they could sail away forever and never go back. It was such an extraordinary feeling of freedom and peace. She hadn't felt this happy or content in years, and it was lovely sharing it with him.

They passed a number of fishing boats, and waved at them, and in the distance there was a freighter on the horizon, heading in. They were heading in the direction of the Farallones, when Matt leaned to the side and seemed to be looking at something. Ophélie glanced in the same direction but saw nothing. She wondered if he'd seen a seal or a big fish, hopefully not a shark. He handed the tiller to her, and went below, grabbed a pair of binoculars, and came back up. He looked through them with a frown.

“What's up?” She wasn't worried, just curious, and wished she could take off the cumbersome vest, but she had promised Pip, and wanted to keep her word, on principle, not out of any need.

“I thought I saw something a minute ago,” he answered her. “I guess not.” The waves had come up a bit, which didn't bother her, but it made it harder to see. She had never gotten seasick in her life, she loved the movement of the boat, no matter how rough it got.

“What did you think you saw?” she asked with interest, sitting next to him. He was thinking about turning back, they had come very far, and had been sailing for over an hour, nearly two, with a good wind at their backs.

“I'm not sure…it looked like a surfboard, but it's too far out for that, unless it fell off a boat.” She nodded, and he adjusted the sails, and just as they turned, she saw it this time and shouted to him in the wind, and pointed. She grabbed the binoculars, and this time saw not only the board, but a man clinging to it. She waved frantically at Matt, and he quickly grabbed the binoculars from her, nodded, and together they maneuvered the sails down, and he started the engine and headed toward what they'd seen as fast as he could. Getting the sails down in the brisk wind was harder to do than it looked.

It took them several minutes to reach the board, and when they did they both saw that the man clinging to it was barely more than a boy, he was nearly unconscious, his face was gray and his lips were a deep blue. It was impossible to guess where he'd come from or how long he'd been there. He was miles and miles from shore. Ophélie helped Matt steady the boat, while he disappeared into the cabin for a length of sturdy rope. The water was getting rougher, and Ophélie felt her throat tighten as she realized what an impossible task it was going to be to get the boy on the boat. Pulling him out of the water was going to be a Herculean feat, but getting the rope around him before that was going to be even harder. As they approached him, they could see that he was shaking violently, and he looked at them with desperate eyes.

“Hang on!” Matt shouted at him, realizing that as long as he clung to the board they couldn't get the rope around him, and if he let go, he might drown. He was wearing an abbreviated wetsuit, which had probably saved his life thus far, and looking at him with a lump in her throat the size of a fist, Ophélie guessed him to be about sixteen, the same age as Chad. All she could think of was that somewhere there was a woman who was about to lose her son and suffer untold grief. She didn't see how they could save him either. Matt had a small radio onboard, but other than the freighter, which was miles away, there were no boats in sight, and even the Coast Guard would take too long to arrive. If he was to live, they had to save him themselves. And there was no telling how far gone he was, or how long he'd been in the water. It was obvious to both of them they didn't have much time. Matt reached into the cabin and grabbed a life vest, and asked Ophélie a question before he dove in. “Can you get the boat back yourself if you have to?” She nodded without hesitating. She had sailed alone in Brittany for years as a young girl, often in rough weather, and conditions far more adverse than this. But he needed to know before he left her alone onboard.

Matt made a loop in the rope, and took it with him when he dove in, and instinctively the boy grabbed on to him and clung to him, and almost drowned Matt as he fought to get the rope around the boy. He managed to get behind him somehow, as the boy flailed his arms weakly, and Ophélie watched the grim scene. It seemed to take forever to get the rope under his arms, and for Matt to drag him back toward the boat. She could see then how powerful Matt was, it was an inhuman effort he was making, and when he approached the boat with the boy, he shouted to her, and she understood. He threw the end of the rope back up to her, and miraculously she caught it, and attached it to the winch. She knew what she had to do. The only question now was if she could do it and save them both. It took five attempts and she was beginning to panic as the rope held finally, and the winch brought the boy slowly up. He barely had the strength to hang on, but it didn't matter, the rope was holding him under his arms, and she caught him as he spilled nearly lifelessly onto the deck. He was barely conscious and shaking violently, as she looked back at Matt, got the rope from around the boy, and threw it to Matt.

Despite the movement of the water, he caught it effortlessly, and the winch hauled him up. It seemed a miracle that they had both managed to get out of the water and into the boat. And as Matt assessed the situation, he decided it would be faster to sail. The wind had turned and come up powerfully, and he thought he could get to shore faster under sail. He put the sails back up, while she got a blanket from the cabin and covered the boy, as he looked at her with dying eyes. She knew that look, and had seen it twice on Chad when he'd attempted suicide. But with every ounce of her being, she vowed to save this child. He'd obviously gone out on a surfboard and been swept away, on a riptide probably, and gone out so far there was no hope of his getting back. Only a miracle had brought them to just the right spot at just the right time. And Matt looked intent as he sailed toward shore, and after a moment he shouted to her that there was a bottle of brandy in the cabin, and told her to give some to the boy. But Ophélie was quick to shake her head, and he didn't understand. He told her again, thinking she hadn't heard him. Not knowing what else to do, she got under the blanket with the trembling boy and held him close to her, hoping that her own body warmth might help keep him alive until they got to shore. Matt pointed to the tiller then and went inside to the radio. He reached the Coast Guard in less time than he had hoped, and told them that he had a major medical emergency onboard, and was heading to land. He believed he would get back to shore before they could reach him, and asked them to have paramedics waiting for him on shore, or to try and catch up with him by boat if they could.

They were halfway back when the wind began to die down, and he took down the sails again and started the engine back up. It was a straight shot back to the beach by then, and land was in plain sight, as Matt looked intent, and kept glancing at Ophélie with the boy in her arms. He had been unconscious for the last twenty minutes and looked nearly dead. Ophélie's face was white.

“Are you okay?” he shouted at her, and she nodded, but it was an all-too-familiar scene for her, and reminded her excruciatingly of Chad. All she wanted now was to save this boy, so his mother would never have to live all that she had. “How is he?”

“Still alive.” She had him pressed against her, and she was soaking wet underneath the blanket, but she didn't care or notice. The sun was beating down on them, and their lazy pleasure sail had become a race against death.

“Why didn't you give him the brandy?” Matt asked, trying to force the engine to go faster. He had never pushed the boat this hard, nor had to, but she hadn't let him down yet.

“It would have killed him,” she said, looking frantic, he was so limp and cold in her arms, but she could still feel the slightest pulse. He wasn't gone yet. “It would have pulled all his circulation to his extremities, he needs the blood in his trunk, for his heart.” Despite the fact that his limbs now felt like ice, but whatever circulation he still had was where he needed it most.

“Thank God you knew that,” Matt said, as he prayed silently to get the boy back in time. They were nearly at the mouth of the lagoon by then. They were only minutes away from help, and as they came out of the ocean into the lagoon, they could hear sirens and see lights at the end of the beach nearest to them. Without hesitating, Matt pulled the boat up to a stranger's dock. There were people gathered, watching, as half a dozen paramedics jumped onboard and Ophélie rolled back and struggled to her feet on the deck. She was sobbing as she watched them check him and then take him on a gurney, as one of the paramedics looked back at her and held a thumb of victory in the air with a smile. He was still alive. She was shaking violently as Matt took a step across the deck to her and held her in his arms. She was sobbing as he did and two men off a fire truck stepped gingerly onboard.

“You saved that kid's life,” the senior officer said with admiration. “Did anyone get his name?” All Ophélie could do was shake her head, as Matt explained to them what had happened and they took down a report, and congratulated them again. It was another half-hour before the fire trucks left, and Matt put the engine on again, and motored slowly toward his dock. Ophélie was too shaken to even speak, and she sat next to him trembling, as he kept an arm firmly around her shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Ophélie.” He knew without effort what it must have reminded her of, and done to her. “I just thought we'd have a nice sail.”

“We did. We saved his life, and his mother's heart.” If he lived. No one could be sure yet, but at least he had a chance. He had none whatsoever out where they found him, clinging to his board, which they had abandoned. Matt hadn't wanted to waste time trying to get it onboard.

They were both exhausted when they tied up the Nessie II, put everything away, locked the cabin, and left the boat. He still needed to hose down the deck to get the salt off her, but he would have to come back later. By the time it was all over, they'd been out for five hours. She barely had the strength to walk when they left the dock, and Matt drove her back to her house. But neither of them was prepared for what they found there. Pip was sobbing on her bed, and Amy looked distraught as she tried to comfort her. She had watched them sail away, and when they didn't come back in an hour or two, Pip was convinced that the worst had happened and the boat had sunk or her mother had drowned. She was inconsolable when Ophélie walked into her room and Matt stood looking aghast from the doorway.

“It's okay, Pip… it's okay… I'm back…” Ophélie cooed gently, horrified to find her in this condition, and suddenly feeling guilty for ever having left her. Everything had turned out so differently than expected, but a life had been saved. It appeared to be destiny that they had gone out that day on Matt's boat.

“You said you'd be back in an hour!” she shouted at her mother as she turned to look at her with eyes filled with accusation and terror. Just as Ophélie had been distraught over the sight of the dying boy who reminded her of Chad, Pip's own fears had convinced her that she had lost her mother.

“I'm so sorry…I didn't know… something happened.”

“Did the boat turn over?” Pip looked even more frightened, as Matt walked into the room and joined them, and Amy discreetly left. She had run out of things to say to reassure Pip hours before, and she had never been as grateful as she was to see the child's mother appear.

“No, the boat didn't capsize,” Ophélie said gently, as she held Pip close to her. It was just what she needed. Words were no longer enough. “And I wore a life vest, just like I promised.”

“Me too,” Matt said, not sure whether he was welcome, or an intruder in the scene between mother and anguished child.

“We found a boy in the water far out from shore, on a surfboard, and Matt saved him.” Pip's eyes grew wide when she told her.

“We both did,” Matt corrected. “Your mom was terrific.” Thinking back on it now, he was even more impressed than he had been when it happened. She had been calm and efficient and effective. He couldn't have saved the boy without her help.

They told Pip all about what had happened, and Ophélie managed to marshal her forces to reassure her. And a little while later, while they all sipped hot tea, Matt called the hospital, and they told him that the boy's condition was serious, but stable for the moment. He wouldn't be out of the woods for a while, but it looked like he might make it, and his family was with him at Marin General. There were tears in Matt's eyes when he told them, and Ophélie closed her eyes for a long moment. All she could think of was the tragedy that had been averted, and she was deeply grateful for it. A woman she would never know had been spared tragedy and heartbreak. Ophélie was thankful they had been able to save the boy.

By the time Matt left an hour later, Pip had calmed down considerably, but she said she never wanted her mother to go sailing again, ever. It was obvious to all concerned how traumatic the afternoon had been for Pip, without even knowing what had happened. She said she had heard the sirens go past the house, on their way to the spit at land's end, and she had been convinced then her mother and Matt were dead. It had been a hideous day for her, and Matt apologized again to both of them for their respective traumas. It hadn't been easy for him either, and Ophélie knew with perfect clarity how easy it would have been for Matt to drown while attempting to save the boy in the water. They might have both died, and she would have been able to do nothing to help him. It had been a narrow escape from tragedy, too narrow for anyone's comfort. And shortly after Matt got home, he called her.

“How is she?” he asked, sounding concerned and exhausted. He had gone back to hose off the boat, and could barely lift his arms to do it, and then he had gone home and soaked in a hot tub for an hour. He hadn't even realized till then how cold he was, or how badly shaken.

“She's fine now,” Ophélie said calmly. She had taken a hot bath too, and she felt better, though she was every bit as tired as he was. “I guess I'm not the only one around here who worries more than I used to.” For Pip, the fear of losing her mother had become her worst nightmare, and she knew better than anyone how easily it could happen. She would never feel entirely safe again. In an important sense, the innocence of her childhood had ended ten months before.

“You were amazing,” Matt said gently.

“So were you,” she said, still in awe of what he'd done, and the determination with which he'd done it. He hadn't hesitated for a moment to risk his life for the unknown boy.

“If I'm ever planning to fall overboard, I'm going to take you with me,” he said admiringly. “And thank God you knew about the brandy, I'd have killed him. I'd have poured it right down his throat.”

“A lot of first aid, and a little pre-med, or I wouldn't have known either. It turned out fine, that's all that matters.” It was their teamwork that had saved him in the end.

Matt called to check on him again later that night, and then called Ophélie to tell her the boy was doing well, and by the next morning he was in satisfactory condition, and his parents had called both Matt and Ophélie to thank them profusely for their heroic act. They were horrified by what had happened, and his mother had sobbed when she thanked Ophélie. She had no idea how well Ophélie knew the tragedy that had been averted. Better than she did.

The newspapers carried an account of it, which Pip read to her mother over breakfast. And then she looked at Ophélie with huge eyes that pierced her mother's like knives.

“Promise you won't ever do anything like that again.…I can't…I couldn't…if you…” She couldn't finish, and Ophélie's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her and nodded.

“I promise. I couldn't live without you either,” she said softly. She folded the newspaper then, and gave Pip a hug, and a moment later the child walked out to the deck, and sat down next to Mousse, lost in her own thoughts, and staring out at the ocean in silence. The day before had been too terrifying to even think of. Ophélie stood in the living room, crying softly as she watched her, and said a silent prayer of thanks that everything had turned out as it had.

11

MATT TOOK PIP AND OPHÉLIE TO DINNER ON THEIR last night in Safe Harbour. They had all recovered from the trauma of saving the boy by then, and all three of them looked relaxed. He had gone home from the hospital the day before and had called Ophélie and Matt to thank them himself. Ophélie had been right in guessing how it had happened. He had been swept away for miles by the tide.

They went to the Lobster Pot in town again for dinner, and they had a nice time. But for most of the evening, Pip looked sad. She hated saying good-bye to her friend. She and her mother had packed their bags that afternoon, and they were going home the next morning. Pip had a few things to do at home before starting school.

“It's going to be awfully quiet around here without you two,” Matt said pleasantly as they finished dessert. Most of the summer residents were leaving that weekend. The next day was Labor Day. And Pip was starting school on Tuesday.

“We're going to rent a house here again next year,” Pip said firmly. She had already extracted a promise from her mother, although Ophélie thought that the following summer they should go back to France again, at least for a few weeks. But she liked the idea of renting at Safe Harbour again too, and if possible the same house, or another. The one they had worked well for them, although it had been too small for others. But it suited them.

“I can check the market for you if you like, as things come up. I'm here anyway. In case you want something bigger next year.”

“I think we like the one we had,” she said, smiling at him. “If they rent it to us again. I'm not sure they're crazy about letting us bring Mousse.” But he hadn't done any damage fortunately. He was very well behaved. All he did was shed. And there was a cleaning service coming to scrub the place the next day. But she and Pip were fairly neat.

“I'll be expecting to see lots of drawings when I come into the city to visit. And don't forget the fatherdaughter dance,” he reminded Pip, and she grinned. She loved the fact that he remembered it, and she actually believed he would come. Her own father never had. He had to work. She had brought her brother once. And a friend of Andrea's another time. Ted hated events at their schools, and he and her mother had argued about it. They had argued about a lot of things, although her mother didn't like to be reminded of it now. But it was true anyway, whether she admitted it or not. But Pip was convinced Matt would keep his word about the dance, and even make it fun for her.

“You'll have to wear a tie,” Pip said cautiously, hoping that wouldn't make him change his mind, and he smiled.

“I think I might have one dragging around somewhere. It's probably holding back my curtains.” In fact, he had many of them, he just didn't have a lot of occasions to wear them anymore, although he could have if he wanted to. But he didn't. The only things he did in the city were visit his dentist, or see his banker or attorney. But he had every intention of visiting Ophélie and Pip. They were important to him. And after the drama he and Ophélie had shared earlier that week, he felt closer than ever to her.

He took them back to the house, and Ophélie invited him in for a glass of wine. And he accepted with pleasure. She poured a glass of red wine for him, as Pip went to put on her pajamas. He liked the domesticity of it, and asked Ophélie if she wanted him to light a fire. The evenings were cool, as they always were, and despite the hot September days, the nights already smelled of autumn.

“That would be nice,” she said about the fire, as Pip came out to kiss them both goodnight, and promised to call him soon. He had already given her his number. And Ophélie had it too, in case Pip lost it. He gave Pip a hug then, and bent down to light the fire, as Mousse watched him, and he realized he would even miss the dog. He had forgotten what it was like to have the accoutrements of a family around him, and he hated to admit even to himself how much he liked it.

The fire was already blazing by the time she came back from tucking Pip in. It was a tradition she had revived over the last few weeks. And as she sat looking into the fire, she realized how much had changed in the three months since they'd been there. She felt almost human, although she still missed her son and husband. But the pain of their absence was a little more bearable than it had been three months earlier. Time did make a difference, albeit a small one.

“You're looking very serious,” he said, as he sat down next to her and took a sip of the wine she had poured him. It was the last of the bottle he had brought her. She wasn't much of a drinker, particularly for a French woman.

“I was just thinking how much better I feel than I did when I got here. It's done us both good. Pip seems happier too. In great part, thanks to you. You've made her summer.” She smiled gratefully at him.

“She's made mine too. And so have you. We all need friends. Sometimes I forget that.”

“You lead a solitary life out here, Matt,” she said, and he nodded. For the past ten years it had been what he wanted. But now, for the first time in years, it seemed lonely to him.

“It's good for my work, or something like that. At least that's what I tell myself. And it's close enough to the city. I can always go in if I want to.” And he would now, to see them, but he was startled to realize that, in spite of its proximity, it was over a year since he'd been there. The time just slipped away sometimes, while you weren't looking, as did the years.

“I hope you'll come and see us often. In spite of my cooking,” she laughed.

“I'll take you out to dinner,” he teased her, but he meant it. He was enjoying the prospect. It was something to look forward to and soften the blow of their leaving, which he knew would hit him like a sledgehammer the next morning. “What are you going to do with yourself when Pip goes back to school?” he asked, looking concerned about her. He knew it would be lonely for her. She wasn't used to having as much time on her hands as she did now with only Pip to care for. She was used to having two children, and a husband.

“I may take your advice and look into some volunteer work at a homeless shelter.” She had fun reading the material Blake Thompson, the leader of the group, had given her. It seemed interesting and appealed to her.

“That would be good for you. And you can always come out here and have lunch with me, if you have nothing else to do. It's pretty here in the winter.” She liked it too. She loved the beach at all times of the year, and it was an appealing invitation. She liked the idea of maintaining their friendship. And whatever Andrea thought of it, it suited both of them, and was what they wanted.

“I'd like that.” Ophélie smiled at him.

“Are you happy to be going back?” he asked, and she stared into the fire and looked pensive, thinking about it.

“No, I'm not. I hate going back to the house, although until now, I've always liked it. But it's so empty now. It's too big for the two of us, but it's familiar. I didn't want to make any hasty decisions last year that I'd regret later.” She didn't tell him that their bedroom closets were still full of Ted's clothes, and all of Chad's things were in his bedroom. She had touched nothing, and knowing that they were there depressed her. But she couldn't bring herself to part with them. Andrea had already told her it was unhealthy, but for now at least, it was what Ophélie wanted. She wasn't ready to make changes, or she hadn't been. She wondered if she'd feel differently now, after the summer. She didn't know yet.

“I think you were smart not to do anything too quickly. You can always sell the house, if you really want to. It's probably good for Pip not to have the trauma of moving. That would be a big change for her, if you've lived there for a long time.”

“Since she was six, and she loves it. More than I do.”

They sat quietly then for a while, enjoying each other's company, even in silence. And when he finished his wine, he stood up, and she joined him. By then, the fire was slowly dying.

“I'll call you next week,” he said, and it reassured her. He was a solid, reliable male presence in her life, like a brother. “Call if you need anything, or if there's anything I can do for you or Pip.” He knew he'd worry about them.

“Thank you, Matt,” she said gently. “For everything. You've been a wonderful friend, to both of us.”

“I intend to stay that way,” he said, and put an arm around her as she walked him to his car.

“So do we. Take care of yourself. Don't be too lonely out here, it's not good for you. Come to see us in the city, it will distract you.” Now that she knew more about his life, she could imagine how alone he must feel at times, just as she did. So many people they had loved and cared about had left their lives, through death and divorce, and circumstances that neither of them had wanted. The tides of life that swept away people and places and cherished moments all too quickly, just as the ocean had swept away the boy they'd saved only days before.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, not knowing what else to say to her. He waved as he drove away, and watched her walk back into the house, and then he drove back to his bungalow down the beach, wishing that he were braver, and that life were different than it was.

12

“GOOD-BYE, HOUSE,” PIP SAID SOLEMNLY AS THEY LEFT it. Ophélie locked the door, and dropped the keys in the mail slot at the realtor's on the way out. The summer was over. And as they drove past the narrow winding street that Matt lived on, Pip was strangely silent. She didn't speak until they were on the bridge, and then she turned to her mother. “Why don't you like him?” she said almost angrily. Her tone was an accusation. Ophélie had no idea who she was talking about.

“Like who?”

“Matt. I think he likes you.” Pip was glaring at her, and totally confusing her mother.

“I like him too. What are you talking about?”

“I mean like a man… you know… like a boyfriend.”

They were nearly at the tollbooth, and Ophélie was fumbling for her money, and then glanced at her daughter. “I don't want a boyfriend. I'm a married woman,” she said firmly, as she found the money.

“No, you're not. You're a widow.”

“That's the same thing. Nearly. Whatever brought this on? And no, I don't think he likes me ‘as a girlfriend.’ And if he did, it wouldn't make a difference. He's our friend, Pip. Let's not spoil that.”

“Why would it spoil it?” She sounded stubborn. She had been thinking about it all morning. And she already missed him.

“It just would. Trust me. I'm a grown-up. I know. If we got involved, someone would get hurt or upset about something, and then it would be all over.”

“Does someone always get hurt?” Pip looked disappointed. This was not encouraging information.

“Almost always. And then you don't like each other anymore, and you don't get to stay friends. And he wouldn't see you. Think how sad that would be.” Ophélie was very definite in her opinion on the subject.

“What if you got married? Then none of that would happen.”

“I don't want to get married again. And neither does he. He got very badly hurt when his wife left him.”

“Did he tell you that? About not wanting to get married again?” Pip sounded suspicious. It didn't sound likely to her.

“More or less. We talked about his marriage and divorce. It sounded very traumatic.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?” She looked suddenly hopeful.

“Of course not. Don't be silly.” It was a ridiculous conversation, from Ophélie's perspective.

“Then how do you know that's how he feels?”

“I just know it. Besides, I don't want to get remarried. I still feel married to your father.” It sounded noble to her, but it made Pip angry, which surprised her mother.

“Well, he's dead, and he's not coming back. I think you should marry Matt, and then we could keep him.”

“He may not want to be ‘kept,’ never mind how I feel. Why don't you marry him? I think he would suit you.” She was teasing her, in order to end the awkward moment. She didn't like being told that Ted was dead and never coming back. It was all she thought about, and had for the last eleven months. It was hard to believe it was almost a year now. In some ways it felt like forever, in others like only minutes.

“I think he would suit me too,” Pip said sensibly, “which is why you have to marry him.”

“Maybe he'd like Andrea,” Ophélie said to distract her, but crazier things had happened. She suddenly wondered if she should introduce them, but Pip had an instant and very negative opinion. Besides, she didn't want to lose him. She wanted Matt for them.

“No, he wouldn't,” Pip said firmly. “He'd hate her. She's too strong for him. She likes to tell everyone what to do, including men. That's why they always leave her.” It was an interesting assessment, and Ophélie knew her daughter wasn't entirely mistaken. Pip had overheard a lot of conversations between her parents about Andrea over the years, and had figured some of it out herself. Andrea had a way of emasculating men, and she was too independent, which was why she'd had to go to a sperm bank for a baby. No man so far had wanted to get that closely entangled with her. But it was an amazing perception for a child Pip's age, and Ophélie didn't disagree with her, although she didn't say it. But she was impressed by her wisdom. “He'd be much happier with you, and me,” Pip said modestly, and then giggled. “Maybe we should ask him the next time we see him.”

“I'm sure he'd love that. Why don't we just tell him. Or order him to marry us. That would do it.” Ophélie smiled too.

“Yeah,” Pip grinned, “I like that.” She squinted her eyes in the sun, thinking about it. She looked delighted.

“You're a little monster,” her mother teased her, and a few minutes later, they got home, and Ophélie unlocked the door. She hadn't been to the house in three months. She had purposely avoided it whenever she came into the city, and had had their mail forwarded all summer to Safe Harbour. It was the first time she'd been back since they left it. And the reality of their situation hit her like an express train as they entered. She had somehow allowed herself to believe, in the back of her mind, that when they came back, Ted and Chad would be there, waiting for them. As though this had been a trip, and the agony of the last year had been a bad joke. Chad would come down the stairs, grinning at her, and Ted would be standing in their bedroom doorway, waiting for her with that look that still turned her stomach upside down and her knees to jelly. The chemistry between them had been powerful for their entire marriage. But the house was empty. There was no escaping the truth. She and Pip were alone forever.

They both stood in the front door, as the same realization hit them at the same time, and their eyes filled with tears as they held each other.

“I hate it here,” Pip said softly, as they clung to each other.

“So do I,” her mother whispered.

Neither of them wanted to go upstairs or to their respective bedrooms. The reality of it was just too awful. And for the moment, Matt was forgotten. He had his own life, his own world. And they had theirs. There was no hiding from it.

Ophélie went out to the car and unloaded the bags, and Pip helped her drag them up the stairs. Even that was hard for them. They were both small and the bags were heavy, and there was no one to help them. Ophélie was breathless as she set both of Pip's bags down in her bedroom.

“I'll unpack for you in a minute,” Ophélie said, trying to hang on to the steps she'd made over the summer, but she felt down a black hole again the moment they were back in the house she had once shared with her son and husband. It was as though the healing months at Safe Harbour had never happened.

“I can do it myself, Mom,” Pip said sadly. She felt it too. In some ways it was worse now. Ophélie was more alive again, and had feelings. The year of the robot had been better.

Ophélie dragged her own bags upstairs then, and her heart sank as she opened the closet. It was all still there. Every jacket, every suit, every shirt, every tie, all the shoes he had worn, even the old battered loafers he wore on weekends, that he'd had since Harvard. It was like reliving a nightmare. And she didn't even dare go into Chad's room, she knew it would kill her. This was bad enough, and as she unpacked her things, she could feel herself slipping backward. It was frightening.

By dinnertime, they were both silent and pale and exhausted, and they both jumped when the phone rang. They had just decided not to eat dinner for the moment, although Ophélie knew the child had to eat at some point, hungry or not. In her own case, she never hesitated to miss a meal.

Ophélie didn't move, there was no one she wanted to speak to, so Pip answered. And her face brightened slowly when she heard his voice.

“Hi, Matt. It's okay,” she said in answer to his question, but he could hear in her voice that it wasn't, and then as her mother watched, she started crying. “No, it isn't, it's awful. It's horrible here. We hate it.” She included her mother in the statement, and Ophélie thought of stopping her, and then didn't. If he was to be their friend, he might as well know how bad it was.

Pip listened for a long time and kept nodding, but at least the tears had stopped. She sat down on a kitchen chair as she listened. “Okay. I'll try. I'll tell my mother…I can't…I have to go to school tomorrow. When are you coming?” Whatever he had said at the other end, Ophélie saw that she looked pleased with the answer. “Okay… I'll ask her …” She turned to Ophélie then with her hand discreetly over the mouthpiece. “Do you want to talk to him?” But Ophélie shook her head and whispered.

“Tell him I'm busy.” She didn't want to talk to anyone. She was too unhappy. And she knew she couldn't fake being cheerful. It was one thing for Pip to cry on his shoulder, but she couldn't. It didn't seem appropriate for her to do that, and she didn't want to.

“Okay,” Pip said to Matt again, “I'll tell her. I'll call you tomorrow.” Ophélie was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of daily contact with Matt, but maybe there was no harm in it. Whatever gave Pip comfort. And as soon as she hung up, Pip reported the conversation to her. “He said it's normal that we feel this way because we lived here with my brother and father, and pretty soon we'll feel better. He said to do something fun tonight, like order Chinese food, or a pizza or go out. And turn on some music. Happy music. Real loud. And if we're too sad, we should sleep together. He said we should go shopping together tomorrow and buy something silly, but I told him I couldn't, I have to go to school. But his other ideas sounded pretty good. Do you want to order Chinese food, Mom?” They hadn't had it all summer, and they both liked it. It was something different at least, which was Matt's plan.

“Not really, but it was sweet of him to suggest it.” Pip particularly liked the idea of the music. And then Ophélie suddenly thought about it. Why not, after all? It might help. “Do you want Chinese food, Pip?” It seemed foolish since neither of them was hungry.

“Sure, why don't we just order egg rolls? And fried wontons.”

“I'd rather have dim sum,” Ophélie said pensively, and then started looking on the counter for the number they used for Chinese takeout, and found it.

“I want shrimp fried rice too,” Pip said, as her mother called them and placed the order. And half an hour later, the doorbell rang and all of it appeared, and they sat in the kitchen and ate it. By then, Pip had put on some truly awful music, as loud as they could tolerate. But they both had to admit, they felt better than they had an hour before.

“It was kind of a silly idea,” her mother smiled at her sheepishly, “but it was sweet of him to suggest it.” And it had worked, better than she wanted to admit. It was embarrassing that some Chinese food and one of Pip's CDs could actually soothe some of the pain of the horrifying grief they had to live with. But even from the distance, he had cheered them both.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Pip asked hesitantly, as they walked upstairs, after they'd cleaned up the kitchen and put the leftovers in the fridge. Alice, the cleaning woman, had left them enough groceries for breakfast the next day, and Ophélie was going to buy more in the morning. And she looked startled at Pip's request. In the whole last year, she'd never asked her mother once if she could sleep with her. She had been afraid to intrude on her mother, and in her own intense grief, Ophélie had never offered.

“I guess so. Are you sure you want to?” It had been Matt's idea, but Pip thought it another good one.

“I'd like to.” They each took baths in their own bathrooms, and then Pip turned up in her mother's bedroom in pajamas. It suddenly felt like a slumber party, and Pip giggled as she got into her mother's bed. Somehow, by remote control, Matt had changed the entire texture of their evening. And Pip looked blissful as she snuggled in the big bed next to her mother, and was asleep in minutes. And Ophélie was startled at how much comfort it gave her to hug the little body close to hers. She wondered why she hadn't thought of it sooner. They couldn't do it every night, but it was certainly an appealing option on nights like this one. And within minutes, she was sleeping as soundly as her daughter.

They both woke with a start when they heard the alarm ring. They had forgotten where they were, and why they were sleeping together, and then they both remembered. But they didn't have time to get depressed again, they had to hurry to get ready. Pip went to brush her teeth while Ophélie ran downstairs to make breakfast. She saw the Chinese food in the fridge, and with a smile, cracked open a fortune cookie and ate it.

“You will have happiness and good fortune all year,” the fortune said, as Ophélie smiled to herself. “Thank you. I need it.” She poured milk into cereal for Pip, orange juice for both of them, and dropped a slice of bread in the toaster. And then made herself a cup of coffee. Pip was down the stairs five minutes later in her school uniform, as Ophélie reached outside the front door for the morning paper. She had hardly read it all summer, and barely missed it. There was nothing exciting happening, but she glanced at it anyway, and then ran upstairs to dress so she could drive Pip to school. The mornings were always a little hectic, but she liked that, it kept her from thinking.

Twenty minutes later, she was in the car, with Mousse, driving Pip to school, and the child was smiling as she looked out the window, and then back at her mother.

“You know, that stuff Matt suggested really worked last night. I liked sleeping with you.”

“I liked it too,” Ophélie admitted. More than she'd expected. It was so much less lonely than sleeping in her big bed all alone, mourning her husband.

“Can we do it again sometime?” Pip looked hopeful.

“I'd love to.” Ophélie smiled at her as they approached the school.

“I'll have to call and thank him,” Pip said, and with that, the car stopped, and Ophélie kissed her hastily, wished her luck in school, and with a wave, Pip was gone to her friends, her day, and her teachers. Ophélie was still smiling to herself as she drove home to the much-too-big house on Clay Street. She had been so happy when they moved into it, and now it made her so unhappy. But she had to admit, last night had turned out better than she'd expected. And she was grateful for Matt's input, and creative ideas.

She walked slowly up the stairs with Mousse, and sighed as she unlocked the front door. She still had a few things to unpack, and groceries to order, and that afternoon she wanted to go by the homeless shelter. It was enough to keep her busy until she picked Pip up at three-thirty. But as she walked past Chad's room, she couldn't help herself. She opened the door and looked in. The shades were drawn and it was dark, and so empty and sad, it nearly tore her heart out. His posters were still there, and all his treasures. The photographs of him with his friends, the trophies from when he'd played sports when he was younger. But the room looked different than when she last saw it. It had a dry quality, like a leaf that had fallen and was slowly dying, and a musty smell. And as she always did, she went to his bed, and put her head on his pillow. She could still smell him, although more faintly. And then, as always happened when she walked into this room, the sobs engulfed her. And no amount of Chinese food or loud music would change that. They only postponed the inevitable agony, as she realized once again that Chad was never coming home.

She had to tear herself away finally, and went back to her bedroom, feeling drained and exhausted. But she refused to give in to it. She saw Ted's clothes hanging there, and it was almost too much for her. She lifted a sleeve to her face, and the rough tweed felt incredibly familiar. She could still smell his cologne and almost hear him. She almost couldn't bear it. But she forced herself not to give in to it. She couldn't. She knew that now. She couldn't afford to become a robot again, to stop feeling, or to let the feelings destroy her. She had to learn to live with pain, to go on in spite of it. If nothing else, she had to keep going for Pip's sake. She was grateful she had group that afternoon and could talk to them. The group was about to end soon, and she wasn't sure what she was going to do without them, and their support.

When she went to group, she told them about the night before, the Chinese food and the loud music, and Pip sleeping in her bed with her. And they saw nothing wrong with that. They saw nothing wrong with any of it, even with dating, although she insisted she wasn't ready for that, and didn't want to. They were all at different stages of their grieving. But at least it was comforting to share it with them.

“So, do you have a girlfriend yet, Mr. Feigenbaum?” she teased him as they left the building together. She liked him. He was honest and open and kind, and willing to make an enormous effort to recover, more than most.

“Not yet, but I'm working on it. What about you?” He was a warm roly-poly old man with pink cheeks and a shock of white hair. He looked like one of Santa's helpers.

“I don't want a boyfriend. You sound like my daughter.” She laughed at him.

“She's a smart girl. If I were forty years younger, young lady, I'd give you a run for your money. What about your mother? Is she single?” Ophélie just laughed at him again, and they waved as they left each other.

And after that, Ophélie stopped at the shelter. It was in a narrow back street South of Market, in a fairly dicey neighborhood, but she told herself that she could hardly expect it to be in Pacific Heights. But the people she saw at the desk and wandering in the halls were all friendly. She told them she wanted to make an appointment to sign up as a volunteer, and they asked her to come back the next morning. She could have called to make the appointment, but she wanted to see it. And as she left, two old men were standing outside with shopping carts full of everything they owned, as a volunteer handed them styrofoam cups full of steaming coffee. She could see herself doing that. It didn't seem very complicated, and it might do her good to feel useful. Better than sitting at home crying, and smelling Ted's jackets and Chad's pillow. She just couldn't let herself do that, and she knew it. Not again. Not for yet another year. The year before, of mourning them, had been a nightmare and nearly killed her. Somehow she had to make this year better. The anniversary of their death was coming up in four weeks, and although she was dreading it, she knew that in the second year of their grief, she had to make it better. Not just for herself, but for Pip as well. She owed it to her. And maybe working at the shelter would help her. She hoped so.

She was on her way to pick Pip up at school, and was stopped at a light, when she glanced into the window of a shoe store. She wasn't paying attention at first, and then she smiled to herself when she saw them. They were giant fluffy slippers for grown-ups, that were made of Sesame Street characters. There were giant blue ones of Grover, and a red pair of Elmo. They were perfect, and without thinking, she pulled over and double-parked, and ran into the shoe store. She bought Grover for herself, and Elmo for Pip, and then she ran back out to the car with them in a shopping bag. She made it to school just in time to see Pip come out of the building and head for the corner where she always waited for her mother. Pip saw her as soon as she got there. She looked tired and a little disheveled, but delighted.

She hopped into the car with a big grin on her face, happy to see her mother. “I've got great teachers. I like all of them except one, Miss Giulani, who's a dork and I hate her. But the others are all really cool, Mom.” She sounded not a minute older than eleven when she said it, and Ophélie grinned at her in amusement.

“I'm very glad they're cool, Mademoiselle Pip,” she said, lapsing into French, and then pointed at the bag in the backseat. “I bought us a present.”

“What is it?” Pip looked pleased as she pulled the bag into the front seat and looked inside, and then she squealed and looked at her mother in amazement. “You did it! You did it!”

“Did what?” Ophélie looked confused for a moment.

“Bought something silly! Remember? That's what Matt said last night. He said to go shopping today and buy something silly. And I told him I had to go to school and couldn't. But you did it anyway! Mom, I love you!” She put the Elmo slippers on right over her school shoes and looked ecstatic, as Ophélie stared at her in amazement. She didn't know if it had been a subliminal message or just serendipity, but she had never thought of what he'd said, or of him, when she bought them. She just liked the slippers. But they were certainly silly. And Pip loved them. “You have to put them on when we get home. Promise?”

“I promise,” Ophélie said solemnly, smiling as they drove home. It had actually been a very decent day after all. And she was excited about her appointment at the shelter. She told Pip about it on the drive home, and she was impressed and pleased to see her mother doing better. It had been horrible coming home the day before, but things seemed to be improving. The black holes didn't seem to be quite as dark, or as deep, and Ophélie was able to get out of them more quickly. It was what they had told her at the group would happen eventually, and she hadn't believed them. But things were slowly getting better after all.

Pip made Ophélie put the Grover slippers on when they got home, and after she had a glass of milk, an apple, and a cookie, she called Matt, before she went to do her homework. He was just coming in from the beach, and her mother was upstairs somewhere, probably in her room, Pip thought, as she sat on a kitchen stool and waited for him to answer. He was just on his way in, and he sounded a little breathless, as though he'd been running to the phone.

“I called to tell you how smart you are,” she announced, and he smiled the minute he heard her.

“Is that you, Miss Pip?”

“Yes, it is. And you're a genius. We ordered Chinese food, and I put on my best CD, as loud as Mom would let me. And I slept with her last night, and we loved it… and today she bought us both Sesame Street slippers. She got Grover, and I got Elmo. And I really like my teachers, except for one, who's disgusting.” He could hear in her voice how much better things were than they'd been the night before, and he felt as though he'd just won a national award. She made him embarrassingly happy.

“I want to see the slippers. I'm jealous. I want some.”

“Your feet are too big, otherwise I'd ask Mom to buy some.”

“That's too bad. I always liked Elmo. And Kermit.”

“Me too. I like Elmo better.” She rattled on then about school, and her friends, and her teachers, and after a while, she told him she had to do her homework.

“You do that. Give your mom my love, I'll call you tomorrow,” he promised, feeling the way he used to when he called his children. Happy and sad, excited, and hopeful, as though there was something to live for. He had to remind himself that she wasn't his daughter. They were both smiling when they got off the phone, and Pip stuck her head in her mother's door on her way to her bedroom.

“I talked to Matt and told him about the slippers. He said to send you his love,” Pip gloated, as Ophélie smiled at her from across her bedroom.

“That's nice of him.” Ophélie didn't look excited, just happy and peaceful.

“Can I sleep with you again tonight?” Pip asked, almost shyly. She was wearing the Elmo slippers, and had taken her shoes off. And Ophélie was wearing the Grovers, as she'd promised.

“Is that Matt's idea?” she asked curiously.

“No, mine.” Pip was being honest. He hadn't made any suggestions this time. He didn't need to. He had helped them the night before, and they were doing fine now, for the moment.

“Sounds good to me,” Ophélie said, as Pip hopped and skipped to her room to do her homework.

It was another good night for both of them. Ophélie wasn't sure how long the new sleeping arrangement would go on, but they both liked it. She couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought of it before. It solved a myriad of problems and gave comfort to them both. She couldn't help thinking then of the positive changes Matt had made in their life.

13

OPHÉLIE'S APPOINTMENT AT THE WEXLER CENTER WAS at nine-fifteen. She dropped Pip off at school first, and headed for the area South of Market immediately after. She had worn an old beaten-up black leather jacket and jeans, and Pip commented on the way to school that she looked nice.

“Are you going somewhere, Mom?” she asked, in her white middy and navy blue pleated skirt, which were her school uniform. She hated wearing it, but Ophélie had always thought it solved a multitude of fashion decision problems at that hour of the morning. It made Pip look sweet and young. She wore a navy tie for important school events, and her red curls seemed like the perfect accent to it.

“Yes, I am,” Ophélie said with a quiet smile. She loved the nights they had been sharing in her bed. It dimmed the pain of the loneliness, and quelled the agony of mornings. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before, mostly because she didn't want to lean on Pip for comfort, but it was turning out to be a blessing for them both. And she was grateful to Matt for the suggestion. She had slept really well next to Pip for the first time in months, and waking up to Pip hugging her and looking into her eyes nose to nose was the happiest thing that had happened to her since Ted died. He hadn't been nearly as cozy and friendly in the morning, and hanging around in bed and cuddling, or telling her he loved her as he woke, had never been his thing.

She told Pip about the Wexler Center then, what they did and the fact that she hoped to volunteer.

“If they want me.” She had no idea what they would want her to do, or if she could really be useful to them. Maybe if nothing else, they would let her answer phones.

“I'll tell you all about it when I see you this afternoon,” she promised as she dropped Pip off on the corner, and watched her head into the school driveway with her friends. She was so busy talking to them, she didn't even turn to wave.

Ophélie parked in a space on Folsom Street, and walked into the alley where the Wexler Center was, and she saw a cluster of drunks, sitting against a wall as she went past. They didn't have far to go to the Center, but it seemed to be too much trouble for them even to move. She glanced at them, and they seemed not to notice her, they appeared to be lost in their own private world, which was more a private hell. Ophélie walked past them with her head down, feeling silently sorry for them.

She walked into the same lobby she'd seen the day before. It was a large open room hung with posters, and paint chipping off the walls. There was a long desk and a different receptionist than she'd seen. She was a middle-aged African American woman who was manning both the desk and the phones. She looked competent and pleasant, and had tightly braided salt-and-pepper hair, and she looked up expectantly at Ophélie. In spite of the simple clothes she'd worn, she looked well kept and beautifully groomed, and she looked out of place in the threadbare room. None of the furniture matched and it all seemed beaten up. It was easy to guess they'd gotten it at Goodwill, and there was a coffeemaker with styrofoam cups in the corner.

“May I help you?” the woman at the desk asked pleasantly.

“I have an appointment with Louise Anderson,” Ophélie said quietly. “I think she's the head of volunteers.” And with that, the woman at the desk smiled.

“That and the head of marketing, donations, ordering groceries, supplies, PR, and hiring new talent. We all wear a lot of hats around here.” It sounded interesting to Ophélie, as she walked around the room, looking at posters and literature, while she waited. She didn't have long to wait. Two minutes later, a young woman seemed to burst into the room. She had bright red hair like Pip's and wore it in two long braids down her back, one hanging over the other. She obviously had a huge mane of hair. She was wearing combat boots and jeans, and a lumberjack shirt, but in spite of it, she was obviously pretty, and looked utterly feminine. She had a lithe grace, like a dancer, and was small like Ophélie and Pip. But she exuded energy, and kindness, enthusiasm and power. She had a take-charge style about her that suggested confidence and ease.

“Miss Mackenzie?” she asked with a warm smile, as Ophélie stood up to greet her and nodded that she was. “Will you follow me?” She walked with a quick, sure step to a back office, with a bulletin board that covered an entire wall. There were bits of scrap paper, bulletins, announcements, messages from government agencies, photographs, and an endless list of projects and names. It was overwhelming just looking at all she presumably had on her plate. On the opposite wall were photographs of people at the Center, and her small desk and chair and two chairs for visitors, nearly filled the small, sunny room. Like her, the room was tiny, cheerful, chock full of information, and blatantly efficient.

“What brings you to us?” Louise Anderson asked, smiling warmly straight into Ophélie's eyes. She was clearly not the normal profile of their volunteers, who were usually college students, or grad students accruing hours toward a social work degree, or people who were somehow related to their field.

“I'd like to volunteer,” Ophélie said, feeling shy.

“We can sure use all the help we can get. What are you good at?” The question stumped her for a minute. She had no idea, and even less of what they needed from her. She felt totally out of her league. “Or maybe I should say what do you like to do?”

“I'm not sure. I have two kids.” She winced as she said it, but correcting it would have sounded pathetic, she thought, so she didn't. “I've been married for eighteen years…or was…” She was brave enough to say that at least. “I can drive, shop, clean, do laundry, I'm fairly good with kids, and dogs.” It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, but she hadn't thought for years about what her real skills were. And it all sounded so foolish and limited now. “I was a biology major in college. And I know a fair amount about energy technology, which was my husband's field,” another useless bit of knowledge they wouldn't need, “and I have some experience with dealing with family members of people who have mental illness.” She thought of Chad. It was all she could think of as she looked into Louise Anderson's eyes.

“Are you going through a divorce at the moment?” She had picked up the reference to having been married, and the “was.”

Ophélie shook her head, trying to look normal, and not scared, but she was. It was intimidating being here and feeling so useless and unskilled. But the woman across the desk from her was gazing at her with openness and respect. She just needed to know more.

“My husband died a year ago,” she gulped nearly audibly, “and my son. I have an eleven-year-old daughter. And a lot of time on my hands.”

“I'm sorry about your son and your husband,” she said sincerely, and went on. “Your experience with mental illness could be very useful to you here. A lot of the people who come through here are mentally ill. It's just a simple fact of homelessness much of the time. If they're too sick, we try to refer them to the right agencies and clinics. But if they're relatively functional, we let them in. Most of the shelters have criteria that eliminate people who exhibit bizarre behavior, which makes many of the homeless population ineligible for the shelters. It's a pretty crazy rule, but it makes things easier for the shelters. We're a little soft on that here, but as a result, we see some pretty sick people.”

“What happens to them?” Ophélie asked, looking concerned. She liked this woman, and hoped she would get to know her better. She had a peaceful but powerful positive energy that seemed to fill the room. And her passion for what she did was contagious. Ophélie was excited about being there and the prospect of working for them, even as a volunteer.

“Most of our clients go back on the street after a night or two. The family units stay, but most of them move on to permanent shelters. We're not permanent. We're a temporary facility. We're a Band-Aid on the face of homelessness. We let them stay as long as we can, we try to find them referrals to agencies, or long-term shelters, or foster care for kids. We try to meet their needs in every way we can, clothe them, house them, get them medical assistance when they need it, apply for government benefits when that's appropriate. We're kind of like an emergency room. We give them lots of TLC and information, a bed, food, a hand to hold. We like it because we serve more people this way, but there are also a lot of problems we can't solve. It breaks your heart sometimes, but there's only so much we can do. We do what we can, and they move on.”

“It sounds like you're doing a lot as it is,” Ophélie said with eyes full of admiration.

“Not enough. This is a business that breaks your heart. You're emptying an ocean with a teacup, and every time you think you've made a difference, the ocean fills up again faster than you can look. The ones that kill me are the kids. They're in the same boat with everyone else, and more liable to drown, and it's not their fault. They're the victims in all this, but so are a lot of the adults.”

“Can the children stay with their parents?” Ophélie ached thinking about them. She couldn't even imagine Pip homeless on the streets at her age, and many of them were younger, or even born there. It was a tragedy of our age, but as she listened, Ophélie was glad she had come. It had been the right choice for her, and she was grateful to Blake for suggesting it. She was excited about coming to work at Wexler.

“The kids can only stay with their parents, or parent, as the case may be, if they're accepted into a longterm family shelter, or some kind of safe house, like for abused mothers and kids. They can't stay out on the street, the minute the cops see them they take them into protective services and foster them out. It's no life for a kid on the streets. A quarter of our population dies on the street every year, from weather, disease, accident, trauma, violence. A kid wouldn't survive half as long as an adult. They're better off in foster homes,” which seemed sad to Ophélie too. “Do you have any idea what hours you'd like to work? Days? Nights? Probably days, if you're a single mother with a kid in school.” The term “single mother” hit her like a punch in the solar plexus. She had never thought of herself that way, but she was now, much as she hated it.

“I'm available from nine to three every day. I don't know… maybe two or three days a week?” It seemed like a lot, even to her, but she had nothing else to do, and far too much time on her hands. She could only spend so much time in the park with Mousse. This might give some purpose to her days, and do someone else some good. She liked that idea.

“What I like to do with volunteers,” Louise said honestly, flipping one of her braids back over her shoulder, “is give them a good honest look at us first. No frills. The real thing. You can spend a few days with us, and see how you feel. If you think it's what you're looking for and what you want to do. And after that, if we both think it's a match, we train you for a week, two at the most, depending on which area appeals to you, and then we put you to work. Hard, hard work,” she warned, and meant it. “Nobody here messes around. The full-time staff works a twelvehour day most of the time, sometimes more if we have some kind of crisis, and we often do. Even the volunteers work their asses off while they're here.” She grinned. “How does that sound to you?”

“Terrific, actually.” Ophélie smiled back at her, suddenly hopeful. “It sounds like just what I need. I just hope I'm what you need.”

“We'll see.” Louise stood up and smiled broadly. “I'm not trying to scare you off, Ophélie. I just want to be honest. I don't want you to get the impression that it's easier than it is. We have a lot of fun here, but some of what we do is just plain awful, dirty, depressing, grueling, dangerous, exhausting. You may go home feeling great some days, or cry yourself to sleep other days. We see just about everything there is to see on the streets. And I don't know if you'd be interested, but we have an outreach program too.”

“What do they do?” Ophélie was intrigued.

“They drive around in two vans that were donated to us, and they look for people on the streets, people who are too sick, mentally or physically, in body and spirit, to come to us. So we go to them. We take them food, clothing, medical supplies, if they're too sick, we try and get them into a hospital, or a program, or a shelter. There are a lot of people out there who are too disoriented to make it here. No matter how accessible we try to make ourselves, there are some people out there who are too scared, or broken, or disenfranchised to reach out. We have at least one outreach van on the street every night to find them. Two vans if we can staff them. They go to the clients who need us most of all. The ones who can get to us here are at least thinking a little more clearly and on their feet. Some of the people out there are actually doing okay, but they need help and may be too scared to try and get it. They don't trust us, even though they may have heard about us. Sometimes all we do on the streets at night is sit and talk to them. And personally, I always try to get the runaways off the streets. But a lot of what they're running away from is worse than what they run into on the streets. There's some pretty ugly stuff that goes on in this world. We see most of it, or the results of it, every day, particularly at night. The days are a little more tame. But that's why we go out there at night, that's when they need us most.”

“It sounds like fairly dangerous work,” Ophélie said sensibly. She didn't think she should risk that because of Pip. Besides, she wanted to be home at night with her.

“It is dangerous. We go out around seven or eight o'clock at night, and we stay out late, doing whatever needs to be done. They've had a few close calls. But so far, none of our outreach staff have gotten hurt. They're pretty aware of what goes on on the streets.”

“Are they armed?” Ophélie asked, impressed. These were brave people, doing miraculous work.

Louise laughed and shook her head. “Only with their heads and hearts. You have to want to be out there. Don't ask me why or how, but personally, deep in your heart and gut, it has to be worth the risk. You don't need to worry about that. There's plenty you can do for us here at the house.” Ophélie nodded, the street work sounded dangerous to her. Too much so for a single mother, as Louise put it, solely responsible for a child. “When do you want to start?”

Ophélie thought about it for a moment. Her time was her own, and she didn't have to pick up Pip till after three o'clock. “Whenever you like. My time is free.”

“How about now? You can give Miriam a hand at the desk. She can introduce you to people as they come in and out, and she can explain a lot of what happens here. How does that sound?”

“Great.” Ophélie was excited as she followed Louise back to the front desk, and Louise explained to Miriam what she had in mind. The woman with the gray hair looked thrilled.

“Boy, can I use your help today.” She beamed. “I've got a stack of filing back here, all our caseworkers dumped everything on my desk last night. They do that every time I go home!” There were files, case folders, brochures about programs and other shelters that they kept in reference files. There was a mountain of stuff. More than enough to keep Ophélie busy until three o'clock, and for days after that.

She hardly stopped all day, and it seemed like every five minutes, someone came either in or out, and always passed the desk. They needed reference material, caseload information, referral numbers, documents, entry forms for intake clients, or sometimes they just stopped to say hi. And Miriam introduced Ophélie to staff members every chance they got. They were an interesting-looking group of people, mostly young, although there were a number of them who were as old as, or older than, Ophélie. And just before she left, two young men came in, who looked different from all the rest, and between them a slight young Hispanic woman. Miriam smiled the moment she saw them. One of the men was African American, and the other was Asian. Both were handsome, young, and tall.

“Here come our Top Gun guys, or at least that's what I call them.” And then she turned to them with a broad grin. It was obvious that she liked them. And Ophélie was struck by the fact that the young woman was unusually pretty, she looked like a model. But when she turned her head, Ophélie could see that she had a nasty scar that ran the length of her face. “What are you guys doing here so early?”

“We came to check out one of the vans, we had trouble with it last night. And we need to load some stuff for tonight.” Miriam introduced her to them then as a new volunteer checking them out. “Give her to us,” the Asian man said with a grin. “We're a man short since Aggie left.” Aggie didn't sound like a man to her, but all three of them were open and friendly to Ophélie. The Asian man's name was Bob, the African American was Jefferson, and the Hispanic girl's name was Milagra, but the two men called her Millie. They left after a few minutes, and went behind the building to the garage where the vans were kept.

“What do they do?” Ophélie asked with interest as she went back to work at the file cabinets behind Miriam's desk.

“That's our outreach team. They're heroes around here. They're all a little crazy, and a lot wild. They're out there every night, five nights a week. We have a weekend crew that takes over when they're not here. But these guys are incredible. All of them. I went out with them once, it damn near broke my heart…and scared me to death.” Her eyes were filled with affection and respect.

“Isn't it dangerous for a woman to go with them?” Ophélie looked impressed. They seemed like heroes to her too.

“Millie knows her stuff. She's an ex-cop. She's on permanent disability, she got shot in the chest and lost a lung, but she's as tough as the guys. She's a martial arts expert. Millie can take care of herself, and the guys.”

“Is that how she got the scar, doing police work?” Ophélie asked with growing respect for all of them. They were the bravest people she'd ever met, and the most caring. And the Hispanic woman was remarkably beautiful, in spite of the scar. But Ophélie was curious about her now.

“No, she got that as a kid. Child abuse. Her father. He cut her when she defended herself when he tried to rape her. I think she was eleven.” A lot of them had stories like that, but it shocked Ophélie to realize that Milagra had been the same age as Pip when it happened. “Maybe that's why she went into the department.”

It was an amazing day for Ophélie. And throughout the day, homeless people of varying sizes, ages, and genders came in to take showers, have a meal, sleep, or just get off the streets and shuffle around the lobby for a while. Some of them looked remarkably coherent and responsible, and even clean, and others looked confused and had glazed eyes. A few were obviously inebriated, and one or two looked like they were on drugs. The Wexler Center was extremely generous in their criteria for admission. No one could use alcohol or drugs on the premises, but if they were in less-than-ideal condition when they got there, they were still allowed to stay.

Ophélie's head was reeling by the time she left and promised to be back the next day. She could hardly wait to come back, and she told Pip all about it on their way back to the house after school. Pip was understandably impressed, not only by what she heard of the Center, but by the fact that her mother had gone there and wanted to volunteer.

She told Matt all about it when he called that afternoon. Ophélie was upstairs having a shower, she felt filthy after working at the Center all day, and she was starving when she came downstairs with her hair in a towel. She hadn't even stopped for lunch. Pip was still talking to Matt on the phone.

“Matt says hi,” Pip said, and then went on speaking to him as Ophélie made herself a sandwich. In the past few weeks, her appetite had improved.

“Say hi to him too,” Ophélie said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“He thinks you're very cool for what you're doing,” Pip transmitted, and then told him all about the sculpture project she was doing in art. And she had volunteered to help with the layouts of the yearbook too. She loved talking to him, although it wasn't as good as sitting with him on the beach. But more than anything, she didn't want to lose touch, and neither did he. And then finally, she handed her mother the phone.

“It sounds like you're up to some interesting doings,” he said admiringly. “What's it like?” Matt asked her.

“Scary, exciting, wonderful, smelly, touching, sad. I love it. The people who work there are terrific, and the ones who come to the shelter for help are really nice.”

“You're an amazing woman. I'm impressed.” And he meant it. She had impressed him from the first.

“Don't be. All I did was file papers, and look lost. I have no idea what I'm doing, or if they'll want me by the end of the week.” She had promised them three days, and had two left. But so far, she loved it.

“They'll want you. Just don't do anything dangerous, or put yourself at risk. You can't afford to, with Pip.”

“Believe me, I know.” The fact that Louise Anderson had referred to her as a single mother had made the point, uncomfortably so. “So, how's the beach?”

“Absolutely dead without the two of you,” he said sadly. Although the weather had been terrific in the two days since they left. It was hot and sunny and there were bright blue skies every day. September was one of the warmest months at the beach, and Ophélie was sorry not to be there, as was Pip. “I was thinking of coming in this weekend to see you, if that suits you, unless you'd rather come out here.”

“I have a feeling Pip has soccer practice on Saturday morning… maybe we could come out Sunday…”

“Why don't I come in? If that works for you, I don't want to intrude.”

“You won't be intruding. Pip will be thrilled. And I'd love to see you too,” she said, sounding enthusiastic. She was in a great mood, despite her long day. Being at the Center had been invigorating for her.

“I'll take you both out to dinner. Ask Pip where she'd like to go, and you can tell me all about your work. I'm dying to hear about it.”

“I don't think I'm going to be doing anything important. They have to train me for a week, and then I guess I'll just be a spare pair of hands for anyone who needs them. Mostly referrals and phones. But at least it's something.” It was better than sitting in Chad's room, crying at home. And he knew that too.

“I'll come in around five on Saturday. See you then.”

“Thanks again, Matt,” she said, and handed the phone back to Pip so she could say good-bye to him. And then Ophélie went upstairs to read some material they'd given her at the Center. Articles, studies, data about homelessness, and the Center. It was fascinating and heart-wrenching stuff.

And as Ophélie lay on her bed, in a pink cashmere robe, with clean sheets under her, she couldn't help thinking how lucky they were. Their house was large and comfortable and beautiful, filled with antiques Ted had insisted she buy. The rooms were sunny, the colors bright. Their bedroom was done in bright yellow-flowered chintz, and Pip's room was done in pale pink silk, it was a dream for a little girl. Chad had had a typical teenage boy's room, in dark blue plaids. There was a study for Ted in brown leather, which she never went into anymore, and a small sitting room off her bedroom in pale blue and yellow watered silk. And downstairs there was a large, inviting living room filled with English antiques, with a big fireplace, a formal dining room, and a den. The kitchen was state of the art, or had been when they remodeled the house five years before. And in the basement, there was a large playroom with a billiards table and a Ping-Pong table, video games, and a maid's room they'd never used. There was a small pretty garden out back, and the front of the house was a dignified stone facade, with manicured trees in big stone pots on either side of the front door, and a trimmed hedge. It had been Ted's dream house, and never hers. But there was no question, it was beautiful, and light-years away from the agony of the people who went to the Wexler Center, or even worked there. As Ophélie sat staring into space, Pip appeared in the doorway and looked at her.

“Are you okay, Mom?” She had that same glazed look she'd had for the entire year before, and Pip was worried about her.

“I'm fine. I was just thinking how fortunate we are. There are people out there on the streets who never sleep in a bed, who have no bathroom, can't shower, are hungry, and have no one to love them and nowhere to go. It's hard to imagine, Pip. They're only a few miles away from here, and they might as well be somewhere in the third world.”

“It's so sad, Mom.” Pip looked at her with big eyes, but she was relieved that nothing was wrong with her mom. She was always afraid her mother would slip back into the dark depths of despair, and she didn't want her to go there again.

“Yes, it is, sweetheart.”

Ophélie made dinner for them that night. There were lamb chops, which she burned a little, and they each ate one. Neither of them was a big eater, but she thought she should make an effort at least to improve their diet. She made a salad, and warmed tinned carrots, which Pip said were disgusting. She said she preferred corn.

“I'll keep it in mind.” Ophélie smiled at her.

And that night, without even asking, Pip went to sleep in her mother's bed. When the alarm went off in the morning, they both hurried to shower, dress, and have breakfast. Ophélie looked excited as she dropped Pip off at school, and headed for work at the Wexler Center. It was exactly what she had wanted, and what she needed. For the first time in years, there was a purpose to her life.

14

THE REST OF THE WEEK FLEW BY FOR BOTH OF THEM, AS Pip settled into school, and Ophélie tried out at the Wexler Center. And by Friday afternoon, there was no doubt in her mind, or anyone else's. She was ready to volunteer three days a week, and they wanted her.

She was going to work Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and the following week they were going to train her, by having her follow various staff members for several hours each. She had to give them a medical certificate, showing that she was in good health, and clear a criminal check, which they said they'd take care of for her. They fingerprinted her on Friday before she left. And they needed two personal references as well. Andrea said she would supply one, and Ophélie called her attorney and asked him to send the second. Everything was all set. She wasn't sure yet exactly what she'd be doing for them, it sounded like an assortment of everything, helping whoever needed a spare pair of hands on the days she was in. They were also going to train her to do intakes. She still felt relatively inadequate, but she was more than willing to learn. And she had gotten a glowing recommendation from Miriam at the end of the week. Ophélie thanked her warmly as she left.

“Well, I made the grade,” Ophélie said proudly when she picked Pip up at school on Friday afternoon. “They want me as a volunteer at Wexler.” She was truly pleased. It gave her a sense of accomplishment and being needed, and maybe even making some small difference in the world.

“That's cool, Mom! Wait till we tell Matt tomorrow!” He had offered to watch Pip play soccer, but she said she'd rather he came another time to see a game. Saturday was just going to be a practice and their first day. She was small and delicate, but she was also fast, and played well. She had been playing for two years as part of her PE requirement at school. And she liked it a lot better than ballet.

Pip finished her homework on Friday, and had a friend over to spend the night, and Andrea came over to have dinner with them. She picked up from Pip that Matt was coming to take them to dinner the following day, and raised an eyebrow at Ophélie.

“You're holding out on me, old friend. The child molester's coming here?” She looked amused.

“He wanted to see Pip,” Ophélie said benignly, and believed it was true, although she was pleased to see him too, and considered him a friend. “Maybe we should stop calling him that one of these days.”

“Maybe the term ‘boyfriend’ would suit him better,” she said, as Ophélie objected instantly with a shake of her head.

“Hardly. I have no interest in having a boyfriend. Only a friend.” And she knew from their conversations that Matt felt the same way. She had decided that romance was no longer in the cards for her, nor did she want it to be. Ever again.

“That's what you're interested in. What about him? Guys don't come into town to take women to dinner, just to see their little girls. Trust me on that one. I know men.” That she did, as they both knew.

“Maybe some do.” Ophélie held firm.

“He's just biding his time,” Andrea said confidently. “As soon as he thinks you're comfortable, he'll make a move.”

“I hope not,” Ophélie said, looking sincere, and then, to change the subject, she told Andrea about her week at Wexler. Andrea was impressed, and glad she'd found something to do.

But the following afternoon, when the doorbell rang, and Ophélie went to answer it, Andrea's assessment of her friendship with Matt crossed her mind as she opened the door. And she ardently hoped Andrea was wrong.

He was standing there in a leather jacket and gray slacks, a plain gray turtleneck, and a well-shined pair of loafers. It was the kind of outfit Ted would have worn, only better. Ted never remembered to shine his shoes, nor cared. He was too concerned with more important things. Ophélie shined them for him.

Matt smiled the moment he saw her, and as soon as Pip bounded down the stairs and he saw her, Ophélie knew her friend was wrong, however well she thought she knew men. Andrea was wrong about this one, there was no doubt in Ophélie's mind, and she was immensely relieved. He exuded fatherly kindness to Pip, and brotherly concern for her. After Pip had shown him her room and her treasures, and her latest drawings, and had finally calmed down, Ophélie told him a little about the Wexler Center, and he sounded impressed and intrigued. She even told him about the outreach team.

“I hope you're not planning to join them,” he said quietly, with a look of concern. “That's an important aspect of their work, I'm sure, and a good thing, but it sounds dangerous to me.”

“I'm sure it is. They're all very skilled. The woman on the team is an ex-policewoman, one of the men is an ex-cop and a martial arts expert, and so is she, and the third one is an ex–Navy SEAL. They don't need any help from me!” She smiled, and Pip joined them again then. She was thrilled to have Matt visiting them, and when her mother left the room to get Matt a glass of wine, Pip whispered to him about the portrait of her he was doing.

“How's it coming? Did you work on it this week?” She knew it was going to be the best present her mother had ever gotten, and she could hardly wait to see her face when she did.

“I'm just getting started.” He smiled at his young friend. He hoped she wouldn't be disappointed in the end result, but he liked the work he had done on it so far. His own feelings for Pip made it easier to capture her, it was as much about her spirit and her soul as it was about the bright red hair and gentle brown eyes with the amber lights in them. He would have liked to paint a portrait of Ophélie too, although he hadn't done one of an adult in a long time. But he would have liked to try.

Shortly before seven, they got up to leave and go to dinner, and as they reached the front door, Matt stopped in his tracks.

“You forgot something,” he said, looking down at Pip, and she looked surprised.

“We can't take Mousse to a restaurant,” she said in a serious voice. She was wearing a little black skirt and a red sweater, and she looked very grown-up. She had dressed carefully for him, and her mother had done her hair with a brand-new barrette. “We can only take Moussy to restaurants at the beach,” she explained.

“I wasn't thinking of him, although I should have. We'll bring him a doggy bag. You didn't show me the Elmo and Grover slippers,” he said reproachfully, and Pip laughed.

“Do you want to see them?” She looked pleased. He remembered everything she told him. He always did.

“We're not leaving till I do,” he said firmly. He took a step back and crossed his arms, with an expectant look as Ophélie smiled at them both. And then he looked at her too.

“I'm serious. Both of you. I want to see Elmo and Grover. I think you should model them for me.” He looked as though he meant it, and Pip ran up the stairs to get them, looking ecstatic. She returned a minute later with both pairs, and handed the Grover ones to her mother.

Feeling silly, Ophélie put them on, as Pip put on hers, and they both stood there in the oversize fuzzy slippers as Matt smiled approval. “They're terrific. I love them. Now I'm really jealous. I want a pair too. Can't you find them in my size?”

“I don't think so,” Pip said apologetically. “Mom said she could barely get a pair for her, and she has pretty small feet.”

“I'm crushed,” he said, as they changed shoes again and he followed them out of the house, and down the steps to his car.

They had a lovely time at dinner, chatting about assorted things. And it occurred to Ophélie again as she watched him with Pip, what a blow it must have been to him to lose contact with his kids. He was obviously a man who loved children, and had a way with them. He gave a lot of himself, was open and caring, and interested in everything Pip had to say. There was an irresistible warmth about him, and at the same time just the right amount of respectful reserve. Ophélie never felt pushed or crowded, or invaded by him. He approached just enough to be friendly, and never enough to be invasive. He was truly a kind man, and a wonderful friend for both of them.

And when they got back to the house at nine-thirty, everyone was in great spirits. Matt had even remembered to ask for some scraps for the dog. And Pip went out to the kitchen to put them in his bowl.

“You're too good to us, Matt,” Ophélie said quietly, as they sat down in the living room, and he lit a fire, just as he had done at the beach. Pip came back a few minutes later and Ophélie sent her to put on her pajamas, under mild protest. But she yawned as she objected, and Matt and Ophélie both laughed.

“You deserve to have people be good to you, Ophélie,” Matt said sincerely, as he sat back on the couch next to her, having just declined her offer of a glass of wine. He was hardly drinking at all these days. He was having a lot of fun with Pip's portrait, and he really enjoyed coming into town to see them. He only seemed to drink more, he noticed, when he was lonely or depressed, and he was neither these days, thanks to them. “We all deserve good people in our lives,” he said to her, without greater motive than to enjoy her friendship. “Your house is beautiful,” he commented honestly, admiring the room they were sitting in, and the handsome antiques she had used to furnish it. It was a little formal for his taste, but not unlike the apartment he and Sally had had in New York. They had bought a duplex on Park Avenue, and one of the city's best decorators had done it for them, and Matt couldn't help wondering if a decorator had done Ophélie's house, or if she had done it herself. And after another glance around, he asked.

“I'm flattered that you'd even ask.” She smiled at him gratefully. “I bought all of this myself over the last five years. I enjoy doing it. I love antiquing and decorating. It's fun, although this house is too big now for me and Pip. But I don't have the heart to sell it. We've loved it here, it seems a little sad with just the two of us. Eventually, I'll have to figure something out.”

“You don't need to rush. I always felt we sold the apartment in New York too fast. But there was no point in my keeping it after Sally and the kids left. We had some lovely stuff,” he said nostalgically.

“Did you sell it?” Ophélie asked.

“No. I gave it all to Sally, and she took it to Auckland. God knows what she did with it there, since she moved in with Hamish almost instantly. I didn't realize at that point that that was her plan, or that she'd move that fast. I thought she was going to get her own place, and check it out for a while. But she didn't lose any time. That's Sally. Once she makes up her mind, it's done.” It had made her a great business partner, but a lousy wife in the end. He would have greatly preferred the reverse. “It doesn't really matter.” He shrugged and looked surprisingly relaxed. “You can always replace things, not people. And I hardly need a houseful of antiques at the beach. I lead a very simple life, and that's all I want.” She knew from having seen his place briefly that that was true, but it still seemed sad to her anyway. He had lost so much. But she had to admit, in spite of everything, he appeared to be at peace, and fairly content. His life suited him, and his house was comfortable. He enjoyed his work. The only thing that appeared to be missing in his life was people, and he didn't seem to miss them either. He was a very solitary being. And now he had Pip and Ophélie, whenever he wanted to see them.

He stayed until eleven, and then said he'd better leave. It got foggy on the road to the beach at night, and would take him a while to get back. But he assured her how much fun he'd had with them, he always did. And he stuck his head in Pip's door to say goodnight to her again, but she was sound asleep, with Mousse at the foot of her bed, and the Elmo slippers on the floor beside it.

“You're a lucky woman,” he said with a warm smile, as he followed Ophélie down the stairs. “She is one great kid. I don't know how I got lucky enough to have her find me on the beach, but I'm glad she did.” He couldn't imagine what he'd do without her in his life anymore. She was like a gift from God, and Ophélie was the added bonus he had gotten with Pip.

“We're lucky too, Matt. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She kissed him on both cheeks, and he smiled. It reminded him of the year he had spent in France as a student twenty-five years before.

“Let me know when she has a soccer game. I'll come in again. Anytime, in fact. Just give me a call.”

“We will.” She laughed. They both knew Pip would be on the phone to him by the next day, but Ophélie saw no harm in it. She needed a man in her life in some form, and Ophélie had no others to offer. Theirs was a relationship that suited all three of them, and served them well, even the adults.

Ophélie watched him drive away in his old station wagon, closed the door, and turned off the lights. Pip had slept in her own bed that night, which was rare these days, and Ophélie lay in her too-big bed for a long time, in the dark, wide awake, thinking of the evening, and the man who had become Pip's friend, and then hers. She knew they were lucky to have him, but thinking of him somehow led to thoughts of Ted. The memories she had of him seemed so perfect in some ways, and so disturbing in others. There was a deep, silent dissonance there when old agonies crept into her head, and in spite of that, she still missed him unbearably, and wondered if she always would. Her life as a woman seemed to be over, and even her role as a mother would be short-lived. Chad was gone, and Pip would be off to her own life in a few years. She couldn't even imagine what her life would be like then, and hated to think of it. She would be alone, inevitably. And in spite of friends like Andrea, and now Matt, once Pip went off to college and a life of her own, any semblance of purpose and usefulness in her life would be over. The thought of it filled her with panic, and longing for Ted again. The only direction she seemed to be able to look on nights like that was backward, to a life that was now over, and looking ahead filled her with terror and dread. It was at moments like that, of deep soul-searching, that she understood all too well how Chad had felt. Only her responsibilities to Pip still kept her going, and from doing something truly foolish. But at times, in the dark of night, undeniably, the temptation was there. However wrong she knew it was, given her responsibilities to Pip, death would have been a sweet release.

15

THREE DAYS AFTER THEIR COZY DINNER WITH MATT, Ophélie had to face a challenge she had been dreading for a while. After four months of regular support and attendance, her grief group was about to end. They treated it as a “graduation,” and talked of “re-entry” into the world at one's own pace, and tried to give their last meeting a celebratory air. But the reality of losing each other and the support and intimacy they'd shared brought most of them to tears on the last day, and Ophélie as well.

They hugged each other and promised to stay in touch, exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and each discussed their future plans. Mr. Feigenbaum was dating someone, a seventy-eight-year-old woman he had met while taking bridge lessons, and he was excited about her. And a few of the others had started dating, some had travel plans, one of the women had decided to sell her house, after agonizing endlessly, another woman had agreed to move in with her sister, and a man Ophélie didn't like much had finally made peace with his daughter after his wife's death, and after a family feud of nearly thirty years. But for the most part, they still had a long road to travel, and many adjustments to make.

Ophélie's main accomplishment, visibly at least, was her volunteer job at the Wexler Center. Her attitude was better, the black hole she still fell into at times, that they all talked about and dreaded, was not quite as deep, and the dark periods not quite as long. But she knew, as they each did about their own lives, that her struggles to adjust to her losses were by no means over. They were just better than they had been, and she had acquired more effective tools to cope. It was all she could hope for, and in some ways seemed enough.

But she felt overwhelmed with sadness, and a sense of loss again, as she said good-bye to Blake, and she looked grief-stricken when she picked Pip up at school.

“What's wrong, Mom?” Pip looked frightened. She had seen that look too often before, and was always worried now that the robot would return again and replace her mom, as it had for nearly a year. She didn't want it back again. Pip had felt abandoned for ten months after her brother and father's deaths.

“Nothing.” Ophélie felt foolish admitting it to her. “It's stupid, I guess. My group ended today. I'm going to miss it. Some of the people were nice, and even though I complained about it, I think it actually helped.”

“Can you go back?” Pip was still concerned. She didn't like the way her mother looked. It was all too familiar to her. And she remembered when Chad had looked that way too. That glazed, dark, vague, nameless misery that seemed bottomless and left its victim paralyzed with lethargy, indifference, and grief. Pip wanted to do something to stop it before it took hold, but she didn't know what. She never did.

“I can go to a different group, if I need to. But that one is gone.” She sounded hopeless as they drove home, and Pip felt panic take her in its grip.

“Maybe you should.”

“I'll be okay, Pip. I promise.” Her mother patted her arm, and they drove home in silence. And as soon as they got there, Pip slipped into the upstairs den that no one used anymore, and called Matt. It was raining that day, and he was working on her portrait, instead of painting on the beach. As winter advanced, he would do that less and less, but the weather was still pretty good, except for today.

“She looks terrible,” Pip reported in a low voice, praying that her mother wouldn't pick up the phone elsewhere in the house. There was a privacy button she had hit, but she wasn't sure if it worked. “I'm scared, Matt,” she said honestly, and he was glad that she'd called. “Last year, I thought… she just…she didn't even get out of bed sometimes, or comb her hair… she never ate… she was awake all night… she wouldn't even talk to me …” Tears filled her eyes as she talked to him, and her words struck his heart like a blow. He was so sorry for them both.

“Is she doing any of those things now?” he asked with genuine concern. She had seemed all right to him the Saturday before, but you never knew. People could hide those things. Sometimes those most in despair kept it to themselves with dire results, and he didn't know if Ophélie was one of those. Pip would know better than he, despite her age.

“Not yet,” Pip said, foreseeing doom everywhere. “But she looks really sad.” There were tears in her eyes as she said it.

“She's probably a little scared to lose the support of the group. And saying good-bye is hard for her now. You've both lost a lot,” he said, feeling awkward about reminding her, but it was true, and she sounded so adult, he thought he could take certain liberties with her. On the phone just then, she sounded more parent than child. It was the kind of conversation he would have expected to have with Ophélie about Pip, instead of the reverse. She had grown up fast in the last year. The anniversary of her brother's and father's deaths was in a month. “I think you should keep an eye on her, but I think she's going to be okay. She seemed fine the other night, and the last few times I saw her at the beach. It's probably kind of an up-and-down thing, but she'll probably pull out of it soon. If she doesn't, I'll come and visit, and see what I think.” Not that there was really anything he could do. In the context of the relationship he had with them, it wasn't his role. But even as a friend, he might have been able to help, or at least to support Pip. She hadn't even had that the previous year, and was grateful to him now. More than he knew, or she could say.

“Thanks, Matt,” she said, and meant it from the bottom of her heart. Just calling him and talking about it helped.

“Call me tomorrow and tell me how it's going. And by the way, your portrait is looking pretty good,” he said modestly.

“I can't wait to see it!” She smiled, and got off the phone a few minutes later. They had no plans to see each other again at the moment, but she knew he was there if she needed him, and that gave her an immeasurable feeling of love and support from him. It was what she needed from him.

Ophélie was feeling forlorn about the group and cooking dinner that night when the doorbell rang. She looked startled, and couldn't imagine who it was. They weren't expecting anyone, she knew Matt wasn't in town, and Andrea never came by without calling first. All she could imagine was that it was a delivery of some kind, or maybe Andrea had decided to stop by unannounced. And when she opened the door, Ophélie saw a tall, bald man standing there, wearing glasses, and she didn't recognize him at first. It took her a full minute to place the face. His name was Jeremy Atcheson, and he had been a member of the group that had ended only that afternoon. Away from the group, his face didn't register at first, and then it quickly did.

“Yes?” she said, looking blank, as he peered over her shoulder into the silent house. And then she realized who he was. He seemed nervous as he stood facing her, and she couldn't imagine what he was doing there. He was one of those faceless people who spoke infrequently, and in her opinion had always contributed less than the rest. She had never had any particular affinity for him, and she couldn't remember ever speaking to him, in or out of group.

“Hi, Ophélie,” he said, as sweat broke out on his upper lip, and she had the distinct impression that she could smell liquor on his breath. “May I come in?” He smiled nervously, but it struck her as more of a leer. And she realized, as she looked more closely, that he seemed somewhat disheveled and unsteady on his feet.

“I'm cooking dinner,” she said awkwardly, unable to figure out what he wanted. But she knew he had her address from the group list they'd distributed that day so those who wanted to could stay in touch.

“That's great,” he said boldly with an unpleasant grin, “I haven't eaten yet. What's for dinner?” Her jaw nearly dropped at his presumptuousness, and for a minute, he looked like he was going to just walk in, as she started slowly closing the door and narrowing the gap through which he could enter. She had no intention of inviting him in. She sensed something unpleasant about to happen, and wanted to avoid it at all cost.

“I'm sorry, Jeremy. I've got to go. My daughter's starving, and a friend of mine is coming by in a few minutes.” She started to close the door, and he stopped it with a hand, and she realized instantly that he was faster and stronger than she'd expected. She wasn't sure whether to kick him, or scream. But there was no one in the house to help her but Pip. And the “friend coming by” was one she had made up to discourage him. It was, in every way, an unpleasant scene, and a violation of the respect that had been fostered in the group.

“What's your hurry?” he said, leering at her, wanting to push past her, but not quite daring to do it. Fortunately, the liquor he had obviously consumed was slowing him down. But as he stood facing her, only inches from her, she could smell the fumes. “Got a date?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” And he's six feet ten, and a karate expert, she wanted to add, but she couldn't come up with anyone scary enough, or fast enough, to stop him. And as she realized the situation she was in, she was frightened.

“No, you don't,” he called her on it. “You kept saying in group that you don't want to date, and never will. I thought maybe we could have dinner together, and you might change your mind.” It had been a ridiculous thing for him to do, and rude beyond words. Besides which, he was frightening her, and she wasn't sure how to handle it. She hadn't faced a situation like this since she'd married Ted. There had been a couple of drunks in her college dorm once, and they had scared her to death until the floor monitor saw them and had security throw them out. But there was no floor monitor to rescue her now, only Pip.

“It was nice of you to come by,” Ophélie said politely, wondering if she could muster enough force to slam the door on him, although she realized that it might break his arm. “But you're going to have to leave.”

“No, I'm not. And you don't want me to. Do you, sweetheart? What are you afraid of? The group is over, we can date anyone we want now. Or are you just scared of men? Are you a dyke?” He was drunker than she had thought at first, and suddenly she realized that she was in real danger. If he got into the house, he might hurt her or Pip. Knowing that gave her the strength she needed, and without warning, using her full force, she shoved him backward with one hand, and slammed the door with the other, as Mousse appeared at the top of the stairs and began to bark as he came bounding toward her. He had no idea what was happening, but something told him it was not good, and he was right. She was shaking as she slipped the chain on the door, and she could hear him cursing her from the other side and shouting obscenities at her. “You fucking bitch! You think you're too good for me, don't you?” She stood on the other side of the door, shaking in her shoes, and feeling more frightened and vulnerable than she had in years. She remembered suddenly that he had come to the group because of the death of his twin brother, and he couldn't seem to get past his anger over it. His brother had been killed by a hit-and-run driver. When she paid attention to him in the group, which had been rare, she had the feeling that he had come unglued over his twin's death, and adding booze to it hadn't helped. She had the distinct impression that if he'd gotten into her house, he might have done something terrible to her or Pip.

And not knowing what else to do, she did exactly what Pip had done earlier, and went to the phone and called Matt. She told him what had happened, and asked him if he thought she should call the police.

“Is he still out there?” He sounded upset by what he'd heard.

“No, I heard him drive off while I was dialing.”

“Then you're probably okay, but I would call the leader of the group. Maybe he can call and say something to him. He was probably just drunk, but that's a pretty rotten thing to do. He sounds like a lunatic.” Or worse, a rapist. But he didn't want to scare her.

“He's just a drunk, but he scared the hell out of me. I was afraid if he got in, he might hurt Pip.”

“Or you. For heaven's sake, don't open the door to strangers like that.” She suddenly seemed so vulnerable and unprotected to him. She was capable certainly, as she had proven during the rescue of the boy at sea, but she was also beautiful and living alone with a little girl. It brought home the risks of her situation not only to her, but to him as well. “Have the group leader read this guy the riot act, tell him next time you'll call the police and have him arrested for stalking you. And if he comes back tonight, call the police immediately, and then call me. I can sleep on the couch if you're worried about it, I don't mind coming in.”

“No,” she said, sounding calmer again, “I'm okay. It was just weird, and scary for a minute. He must have been having strange ideas about me the whole time we were in group. That's an unpleasant feeling, to say the least.”

Being single again was hard enough, but having people like Jeremy trying to push their way into her house was more than a little unsettling. Her vulnerability now was one of the evils of her situation, but all she could do was be careful about it, and aware, now that it had happened. She knew she couldn't expect Matt to be her bodyguard, or anyone else for that matter. She had to learn to deal with things like that herself. She was sorrier than ever that group was over. She would have liked to discuss how to handle things like that with them. Instead, she thanked Matt for his sympathy and concern and good advice, and as soon as she hung up, she called Blake Thompson, and he was deeply upset about it too.

He promised to call Jeremy the next day, when he sobered up, and talk straight to him about not only violating the sacred trust of the group, but being abusive about it. And she sounded calm again when Matt called to check on her after dinner. She hadn't said anything more to Pip because she didn't want to frighten her. She had reassured her that the man was harmless and it meant nothing, which was probably true. Ophélie was convinced it was an isolated incident, but it had rattled her nonetheless. But even Pip was relieved to see her looking more engaged again during dinner, and by the next morning, she seemed fine when she left the house to drive Pip to school, and go to work at the Wexler Center.

Blake called her there later that morning, and he told Ophélie that he had spoken to Jeremy and said there would be a restraining order taken out against him if he went near her again. He said Jeremy had cried over it, and admitted he'd gone straight to a bar when the group ended and had been drinking all afternoon right up until he appeared on her doorstep. He was going to have some private therapy sessions with Blake, and he had asked Blake to apologize to her. Blake said he felt confident it wouldn't happen again, but it had been a good lesson to her to be cautious and wary of strangers, even those she knew slightly. There was a whole new world out there, waiting for her, full of evils she had never encountered before, as a married woman. It was not a cheering thought.

She thanked Blake for handling it, and went back to work, and forgot about it. And when she went home that afternoon, there was a letter of apology from Jeremy on her doorstep. He assured her he wouldn't bother her again. Apparently, they all had their own ways of dealing with the destabilizing effect of losing the support of the group. His had just been scarier than most. But it showed her that she wasn't the only one depressed and shaken up by it. It was a major adjustment, and a loss of sorts, to no longer have the group. Now she had to go out in the world, as they all did, and try to use what she'd learned.

As soon as Ophélie set foot in the Center, she forgot her own troubles. She was so busy until three o'clock, she hardly had time to breathe. She loved what she was doing, and everything she was learning. She did two intakes that day. One a couple with two children, who had come from Omaha, and lost everything. They didn't have enough to eat, live, pay rent, take care of the kids, and both husband and wife had lost their jobs. They had no one to turn to, but were valiantly trying to get on their feet, and the Center did everything they could to help, including get them on food stamps, signed up for unemployment, and the kids enrolled in school. They were due to move into a permanent shelter within a week, and it looked as though, with the Center's help, they were going to be able to keep their kids with them, no small feat. It nearly brought Ophélie to tears, as she listened to them, and talked to the little girl, who was exactly Pip's age. It was hard to imagine how people reached that point, but it reminded her again of how lucky she and Pip were. Imagine if Ted had died and left them homeless on top of it. It defied thinking.

The second intake Ophélie did was a mother and daughter. The mother was in her late thirties and alcoholic, the daughter was seventeen and on drugs. The daughter had been having seizures, either as a result of drug use, or for some other reason, and they had been on the streets together for two years. Things were complicated further by the daughter's admission to Ophélie that she was four months pregnant. None of it happy stuff. And Miriam and one of the professional caseworkers stepped in to get them both into rehab, with medical benefits, and prenatal care for the daughter. They were out of the Center and in another facility by that night, and on the way to rehab by morning.

By the end of the week, Ophélie felt as though her head was spinning, but she loved it. She had never felt as useful in her life, or as humble. She was seeing and learning things that were hard to even imagine until you saw and heard them. A dozen times a day she wanted to put her head down and cry, but she knew she couldn't. You couldn't let on to the clients how tragic you thought their situation was, or how hopeless. Most of the time, it was hard to imagine their ever getting out of their desperate situations, but some did. And whether they did or not, like the others at the Center, she was there to do everything she could to help them. She was so moved by everything she was experiencing that her biggest regret, when she went home at night, was that she couldn't tell Ted about it. She liked to believe that he would have been fascinated by it. Instead, she shared as much as seemed reasonable with Pip, without frightening her unduly. Some of the stories were too depressing, or fairly hairy. A homeless man had died on their doorstep that week, on his way into the Center, of alcoholism, kidney failure, and malnutrition. But she didn't tell Pip about him either.

By Friday afternoon, it was clear to Ophélie that she had made the right decision. And that opinion was strongly reinforced by her advisers, those who directed her, and her co-workers. She was obviously going to be an asset to the Center, and she felt as though, for the first time in a year, she had found some purpose and direction that was fruitful.

She was just about to leave when Jeff Mannix of the outreach team breezed past her, and stopped to grab a cup of coffee.

“How's it going? Busy week?” he asked with a grin.

“Seems like it to me. I don't have anything to compare it to, but if it gets any busier around here, we may have to lock the doors so we don't get trampled.”

“Sounds about right.” He smiled at her, taking a sip of the steaming coffee. He had come by to check their provisions, they were adding some new medical and hygiene supplies to their usual offerings. Most of the time, he didn't come to work till six o'clock, and usually stayed on the streets until three or four in the morning. And it was easy to see that he loved what he was doing.

They both talked for a minute about the man who had died on the doorstep on Wednesday. Ophélie was still shaken by it.

“I hate to say it, but I see that out there so often, it no longer surprises me. I can't tell you how many guys I try to wake up, and when I turn them over… they're gone. Not just men, women too.” But there were far fewer women on the streets. Women were more likely to go to the shelters, although Ophélie had heard horror stories about that too. Two of the female intakes she had done that week had told her that they'd been raped at shelters, which was apparently not unusual. “You think you'll get used to it,” he said somberly, “but you never do.” And then he looked at her appraisingly. He'd been hearing good things about her all week. “So when are you coming out with us? You've worked with everyone else around here. I hear you're a whiz with intakes and provisioning. But you ain't seen nothing yet till you come out with Bob, Millie, and me. Or is that a little too real for you?” It was a challenge to her, and he meant it to be. As much as he respected his co-workers, he and the others on the outreach team felt as though theirs was the most important work the Center did. They were at greater risk, and provided more hands-on care in a night than the Center itself did in a week. And he thought Ophélie should see that too.

“I'm not sure how helpful I'd be,” Ophélie said honestly. “I'm pretty cowardly. I hear you guys are the heroes around here. I'd probably be too scared to get out of the van.”

“Yeah, maybe for about five minutes. After that you forget, and you just do what you have to do. You look pretty ballsy to me.” There was a rumor around that she had money, no one knew it for sure, but her shoes looked expensive, her clothes were too neat and clean and fit too well, and her address was in Pacific Heights. But she seemed to work as hard as anyone else, harder according to Louise. “What are you doing tonight?” he pressed her, and she felt both pushed and intrigued. “You gotta date?” he asked fairly bluntly, but as aggressive as he was, she liked him. He was young and clean and strong, and he cared desperately about what he did. Someone had told her he'd nearly been stabbed once on the streets, but he went right back out there the next day. Foolhardy probably, but she thought admirable too. He was willing to risk his life for what he did.

“I don't date,” she said simply. “I have a little girl, I'll be home with her. I promised to take her to a movie.” They had no other plans that weekend, except Pip's first soccer game the next day.

“Take her tomorrow. I want you to come out with us. Millie and I were talking about it last night. You should see it, at least once. You'll never be the same once you do.”

“Particularly if I get hurt,” she said bluntly, “or killed. I'm all my daughter has in the world.”

“That's not good,” he said, frowning. “Sounds like you need a little more in your life, Opie.” He found her name pretty but impossible to pronounce, and had teased her about it when he met her. “Come on, we'll keep an eye on you. How about it?”

“I don't have anyone to leave her with,” Ophélie said thoughtfully, tempted, but scared too. His challenge was difficult to resist.

“At eleven?” He rolled his eyes, and his vast ivory grin lit up the deep brown face. He was a beautiful man, and roughly six feet five. He was the ex–Navy SEAL. He'd been a Navy commando for nine years. “Shit, at her age, I was taking care of all five of my brothers, and haulin' my mama's ass out of jail every week. She was a prostitute.” It sounded stereotypical, but it was real, and what he didn't tell her but she had heard from others was what a remarkable human being he was, and the family of siblings he had raised. One of his brothers had gone to Princeton on a scholarship, another had gotten into Yale. Both were lawyers, his youngest brother was studying to be a doctor, yet another was a lobbyist, speaking out on inner-city violence, and the fifth had four kids of his own and was running for Congress. Jeff was an extraordinary man, and fiercely persuasive. Ophélie was seriously considering going out on the streets with them, although she had sworn she never would. It seemed far too dangerous to her. “Come on, Mama… give us a chance. You ain't never gonna wanna sit behind that desk again, after you been out with us! We're what's happening around here… and why we all do this work. We leave at six-thirty. Be here.” It was more a command than an invitation, and she said she'd see what she could do. She was still thinking about it, half an hour later, when she picked Pip up at school. And she was quiet on the way home.

“You okay, Mom?” Pip asked, with the usual concern, but Ophélie reassured her that she was. And as Pip looked her over, she decided to agree. Pip knew most of the danger signs now of her mother taking a bad turn. She just looked distracted this time, but not depressed, or disconnected. “What did you do today at the Center?”

As usual, Ophélie told her an edited version, and then made a phone call from her bedroom. The woman who cleaned for her several times a week said she could baby-sit that night, and Ophélie asked her to be there by five-thirty. She wasn't sure how Pip would feel about it, and she didn't want to disappoint her, but as it turned out, Pip said it would be better to go to the movies on Saturday anyway. She was playing soccer the next morning, and didn't want to be too tired. Ophélie explained that there was something planned at the Center that she wanted to be part of. And Pip said she didn't mind at all. She was happy that her mother was doing something she enjoyed. It was a lot better than watching her sleep her days away in her room, or stalk the house all night looking anxious, the way she had the year before.

As promised, Alice, the cleaning lady, appeared promptly at five-thirty, and when Ophélie left, Pip was watching TV. Ophélie was wearing jeans and a heavy sweater, a ski parka she had found at the back of her closet, and some hiking boots she hadn't worn in years. And she'd brought a little knitted cap and gloves in case it got cold. Jeff had warned her that it would. No matter what time of year it was in San Francisco, the nights got cold, sometimes in summer most of all. And there had been a distinct chill in the air at night for the past few weeks. They carried with them doughnuts and sandwiches and thermoses of coffee, she knew, and Jeff had said that they stopped at McDonald's sometimes halfway through the night. Whatever they had planned, she was prepared, as best she could be. But as she parked near the Center, she had a definite feeling of trepidation. If nothing else, she knew it would be an interesting night. Maybe the most interesting of her life. And she knew that if either Matt or Andrea knew, or Pip, they would have tried to talk her out of it, or been scared to death on her behalf. And she was scared too.

As she walked into the garage behind the Wexler Center, she saw Jeff, Bob, and Millie loading up. They were putting boxes and duffel bags in the back of one van, and a stack of sleeping bags and donated clothes in the other. Jeff turned with a grin as he saw her, and looked pleased.

“My, my, my… Hello, Opie… welcome to the real world.” She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a put-down, but whatever it was, he seemed happy to see her, and Millie smiled at her too.

“I'm glad you could make it,” she said quietly, and went back to work. It was another half-hour before they were loaded up, as Ophélie helped. It was a backbreaking job, and the real work hadn't even begun. And as soon as they were through, Jeff told her to ride with Bob in the second van.

The tall quiet Asian man waved at the passenger seat, the rest of the seats had been removed to make room for their supplies.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked calmly as he turned the key in the ignition. He knew Jeff and the way he strong-armed people into doing things, and he admired her for coming. She had guts. She didn't need to do this, didn't have to prove anything to anyone. She looked as though she came from a different life. But he had to give her credit for showing up, for being willing to stick her neck out, and even risk her life. “This isn't required, you know. They call us the cowboys of the outfit, and we're all a little crazy. No one is going to think you're a sissy if you back out.” He was giving her a chance to leave now, before it was too late. He thought it only fair to her. She had no idea what was in store.

“Jeff will think I'm a sissy.” She smiled at him, and he laughed.

“Yeah. Maybe. So what? Who gives a shit. You wanna go, Opie? Or you wanna bag it? Either way. No shame. Call your shot.” She thought about it for a long moment, and looked at Bob long and hard. She took a breath then, for the smallest of seconds ready to change her mind, and then as she looked at him, she realized she felt safe with him. She didn't know him from Adam, but she sensed that she could trust him, and she was right. The other van honked then. Jeff was getting impatient and couldn't understand the delay, as Bob waited for Ophélie to decide. “You in or out?”

She exhaled slowly as she looked at him, and the word came out of her mouth of its own accord. “In.”

“All right!” he said, with a grin, as he stepped on the gas, and the convoy of loaded vans lumbered out of the garage. It was seven o'clock at night.

16

FOR THE NEXT EIGHT HOURS, OPHÉLIE SAW THINGS THAT she had never dreamed existed, and surely not within only a few miles of her house. They went to areas she had never known, down back alleys that made her shudder, and saw people so far beyond her ken that it nearly ripped out her heart. People with scabs on their faces, covered with sores, with rags on their feet instead of shoes, or without even that, barefoot and sometimes half-naked in the cold. At other times, there were clean, neat, decent-looking people hiding in corners under bridges and sleeping under cardboard and newspaper on dirt. And everywhere they went, there were thank-yous and God-bless-yous when they left. It was a long, slow, agonizing night. And yet at the same time, Ophélie had never felt such peace, or joy, or a sense of purpose to equal it, except maybe the nights she had given birth to Chad and Pip. This was almost like that.

And for most of the night, she and Bob moved as one. He didn't need to tell her what to do. All you had to do was follow your heart. The rest was obvious. Where sleeping bags were needed, you gave them, or warm clothes. Jeff and Millie were dispensing the medicines and hygiene supplies. And when they found a camp of runaways near the loading docks far South of Market, Bob wrote the location down. He explained to Ophélie that there was another outreach program for juvenile runaways. He was going to give them the address in the morning, and they would come out and try to talk them in. Only a few were ever willing to leave the streets. Even more than the adults, they distrusted the shelters and programs. And they didn't want to be sent home. More often than not, what the young ones were fleeing from was worse than what they encountered on the streets.

“A lot of them have been out here for years. It's safer for them most of the time than where they've been. The programs try for reunification with their families, but a lot of times no one gives a damn. Their parents don't even care where they've been. They come here from all over the country, and they just wander around, living on the streets till they grow up.”

“And then what?” Ophélie asked with a look of despair. She had never seen so many people in such desperate need, with so little means for relief. They were almost, or appeared to be, a lost cause. The forgotten people, as Bob called them. And she had never seen people so grateful for the little help they got. Some of them just stood there and cried.

“I know,” Bob said once, when she got back in the van in tears. “I cry sometimes myself. The young ones really get to me… and the old ones… you can't help but know that they're not going to be alive out here for long. But this is all we can do for them. It's all they want. They don't want to come in. It may not make much sense to us, but it does to them. They're too lost, or too sick, or too broken. They can't exist anywhere but here. Since federal funds got cut back years ago, we don't have the mental hospitals anymore to house them, and even the ones who look relatively okay probably aren't. There's a lot of mental illness out here. That's all the substance abuse is, a lot of selfmedication just to survive. And who can blame them? Shit, if I were out here, I'd probably be on drugs myself. What else have they got?”

Ophélie learned more that night about the human race than she had in the whole rest of her life. It was a lesson she knew she would never forget. And when they stopped at McDonald's for hamburgers at midnight, she felt guilty eating them. She could hardly swallow the food and hot coffee, knowing that in the streets around them were people starving and cold, who would have given all they had for a cup of coffee and a burger.

“How's it going?” Jeff asked her, as Millie peeled off her gloves. It had gotten cold, and Ophélie was wearing hers as well.

“It's amazing. You really are doing God's work out here,” Ophélie said in awe of all three of them. She had never been so moved in her life. And thus far, Bob was impressed. She had a gentle, compassionate way about her, without condescending to them or being patronizing. She treated each person they encountered with humanity and respect, and she worked hard. He said as much to Jeff on the way out, and Jeff nodded. He knew what he had been doing when he asked her. Everyone had said she was great, and he wanted her for the outreach team before she got bogged down in a lot of paperwork at the Center. He had sensed almost instantly that she would be a valuable member of the outreach team, if he could get her to sign up. The risks they dealt with every night, and the long hours, were what kept most people out. And most volunteers and even staffers were too scared. Even the guys.

They headed for Potrero Hill after their break, and into Hunters Point after that. And the Mission was going to be their last stop. And as they approached it, Bob warned her to stay behind him and be careful. He told her that among the aggressive and the hostile, dirty needles were the weapon of choice. And as he said it, all she could think of was Pip. She couldn't afford to get injured or killed. It reminded her, even if only for an instant, that she was crazy to be out here. But being there was like a drug. She was already addicted to it before the night was out. What they were doing was the single greatest act of giving and caring that she could imagine. These people were putting their lives on the line every night. Unaided, unarmed, unsupported, they went out there on a mission of mercy that in turn risked their lives. And yet everything about it made sense. She was surprised that she wasn't even tired when they finally drove the vans back into the garage. She was energized, and felt totally alive, maybe more so than ever in her life.

“Thanks, Opie,” Bob said kindly as he turned off the ignition. “You did a great job.” He truly meant it. She had.

“Thank you,” she said, with a smile. From him, it was high praise. She liked him even better than Jeff. Bob was quiet and hardworking and kind to the people they dealt with, and respectful to her. She had learned in the hours they'd spent together that his wife had died of cancer four years before. He was bringing up three children on his own, with his sister's help. And working at night allowed him to be with his kids during the day. The risks didn't seem to faze him, they had been worse as a cop. He had a pension from the force, so he could afford the low pay he made at Wexler. More than anything, he loved the job. And he was less of a cowboy than Jeff. He had been incredibly nice to her all night, and she was dismayed to discover that they had devoured nearly an entire box of doughnuts together. She wondered if the stress had made her hungry, or maybe just the work. Whatever, it had been one of the most remarkable and meaningful nights of her life. And she knew that in those magical hours between seven P.M. and three A.M., she and Bob had become friends. And when she thanked him, it was heartfelt.

“See you on Monday?” Jeff asked her, looking her straight in the eye, as they stood in the garage. He was as bold as ever, and Ophélie looked surprised.

“You want me to come again?”

“We want you on the team.” He had decided halfway through the night, based on what he'd observed and Bob had said about her.

“I have to give it some thought,” she said carefully, but was flattered anyway. “I couldn't come every night.” And shouldn't at all. It wasn't fair to Pip. But all those people, all those faces, those lost souls sleeping near railroad tracks and under underpasses and on loading docks. It was as though she heard a call, and knew it was what she was meant to do, no matter how great the risk. “I couldn't do it more than twice a week. I've got a little girl.”

“If you were dating, you'd be out more than that, and you said you're not.” He had a point. Jeff didn't pull any punches, nor hold back.

“Can I think about it?” She felt pressed, but that was what he wanted. He wanted her on the team, in no uncertain terms.

“Do you need to? Really? I think you know what you want.” She did. But she didn't want to do anything hasty or foolish, out of the emotions of the night. And emotions had run high, particularly for her, because it was all new to her. “Come on, Opie. Give it up. We need you…so do they …” His eyes pleaded with her.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly.… “Okay. Twice a week.” It meant she would be working Tuesday and Thursday nights instead of Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

“You got it,” he said, beaming at her, and slapped her a high-five as she laughed.

“You're a hard man to resist.”

“Damn right,” he said, “and don't you forget it. Good work, Opie… see you Tuesday night!” He waved and was gone. Millie got into a car parked next to the garage, and Bob walked her to her car and she thanked him again.

“Anytime you want to quit,” he said gently, “you can. You're not signing in blood here,” he reminded her, which made it a little less scary for her. She had just made a hell of a commitment, and she couldn't even imagine what people would say if she told them. She wasn't sure she would. For now.

“Thanks for the out.”

“Anything you do, for however long you do it, is valid and appreciated. We all do it for as long as we can. And when we can't, then that's okay too. Take it easy, Opie,” he said, as she got into her car. “See you next week.”

“Goodnight, Bob,” she said gently, finally starting to feel tired. She was coming down from the high of the night, and wondered how she'd feel about it in the morning. “Thanks again…”

He waved, put his head down, and walked down the street to his truck. And as he did, she realized with a feeling of elation that she was one of them now. She was a cowboy. Just like them. Wow!

17

WHEN OPHÉLIE WENT BACK TO HER HOUSE LATE THAT night, she looked around as though seeing it for the first time. The luxury, the comforts, the colors, the warmth, the food in the refrigerator, her bathtub, and the hot water as she got in it. It all seemed infinitely precious suddenly, as she lay there soaking for nearly an hour, thinking back on what she'd seen, what she had done, what she had just committed to. She had never felt so fortunate in her life, or so unafraid. In confronting what she had feared most, her own mortality on the streets, other things no longer seemed as menacing anymore. Like the ghosts in her head, her guilt over urging Chad to go with Ted, and even her seemingly bottomless grief. If she could confront the dangers on the street, and survive them, the rest seemed so much easier to deal with. And as she got into bed next to Pip, who had opted to sleep in her mother's bed again that night, she had never in her life been as grateful for her child, and the life they shared. She went to sleep with her arms around her daughter, giving silent thanks, and woke with a start when she heard the alarm. For a minute, she couldn't even remember where she was. She had been dreaming of the streets and the people she'd seen there. She knew she'd remember those faces for the rest of her life.

“What time is it?” she asked, turning off the alarm and dropping her head back on her pillow next to Pip's.

“Eight o'clock. I have a game at nine, Mom.”

“Oh… okay …” It reminded her that she still had a life. With Pip. And that maybe what she had done the night before was more than a little crazy. What would happen to Pip if she got hurt? Yet it no longer seemed as likely. The team seemed very efficient, and as best they could, they took no obvious risks. The risks were inherent on the streets, but they were sensible people who knew what they were doing. But it was still more than a little scary anyway. She had a responsibility to Pip, which she was deeply sensitive to.

She was still thinking about it when she got up and dressed, and went downstairs to make breakfast for Pip.

“How was last night, Mom? What did you do?”

“Some pretty interesting stuff. I worked with the outreach team on the streets.” She told Pip a modified version of what she'd done.

“Is it dangerous?” Pip looked concerned, and then finished her orange juice, and dug into her scrambled eggs.

“To some extent.” Ophélie didn't want to lie to her. “But the people who do it are very careful, and they know what they're doing. I didn't see anyone dangerous out there last night. But things do happen on the street.” She couldn't deny the risk to her.

“Are you going to do it again?” Pip looked concerned.

“I'd like to. What do you think?”

“Did you like doing it?” she asked sensibly.

“Yes, a lot. I loved it. Those people need so much help.”

“Then do it, Mom. Just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Neither do I. Maybe I'll just try it a couple more times, and see how it feels. If it looks too risky after a few times, I'll stop.”

“That sounds good. And by the way,” she said over her shoulder as she headed upstairs to get her cleats, “I told Matt he could come to the game if he wanted to. He said he wanted to come.”

“It's pretty early. He might not make it.” Ophélie didn't want her to be disappointed, and she didn't know how serious Matt's offer was. “I told Andrea she could come too. You have a whole cheering team.”

“I hope I play okay,” she said, putting on a sweatshirt. She was ready to roll. And Ophélie let Mousse get into the backseat. Within minutes, they were headed for the polo field in Golden Gate Park, where they played. It was still foggy, but looked like it would be a nice day eventually. As they drove along, and Pip put the radio on, a little too loudly, Ophélie found herself thinking again of what she'd seen the night before, the poor people living in camps, and boxes, sleeping on concrete with rags over them. In the clear light of day, it seemed even more incredible than it had the night before. But she was glad now that she had agreed to go again, and be part of the team. It was a powerful pull she felt. And she could hardly wait to be out there again. She smiled to herself as she thought of it, and as they got out of the car at the polo field, she was surprised to see Matt. Pip gave a whoop of glee and threw her arms around him. He was wearing a heavy sheepskin jacket that looked like it had been through the wars, running shoes, and jeans, and he looked suitably rugged and fatherly, as Pip ran off to the field.

“You really are a faithful friend. You must have left the beach at the crack of dawn,” Ophélie said with a grateful smile.

“No, just around eight. I thought it would be fun.” He didn't tell her that he had gone to every one of Robert's games before the divorce, and many in Auckland after that. Robert had learned to play rugby there too.

“She was hoping you'd come. Thank you for not disappointing her.” Ophélie meant it. He had never disappointed Pip once since they'd met, nor her. He was the one person they both knew they could rely on.

“I wouldn't miss it for the world. I used to coach.”

“Don't tell her. She'll sign you up for the team.” They both laughed, and stood for ages watching the game. Pip was playing well and had scored a goal, when Andrea arrived with the baby in a stroller in a little down bag to keep him warm. Ophélie introduced her to Matt, and they stood chatting for a while. She tried not to feel the vibes of Andrea's questions and opinions and assumptions directed at her when she saw Matt. Ophélie looked artfully unruffled, and after the baby had cried for half an hour because he wanted to be fed, Andrea left. But Ophélie felt certain that she would hear from her later on. She could count on it. And she ignored all of Andrea's meaningful looks when she left, and continued chatting with Matt.

“She's Pip's godmother and my oldest friend out here,” Ophélie explained.

“Pip told me about her, and the baby. If Pip's description of the situation is correct, it was a brave thing to do.” He was discreetly referring to the sperm bank story that Pip had told him, and Ophélie understood. She liked his delicacy and discretion.

“It was brave, but she thought she'd never have children otherwise, and she's thrilled with the baby.”

“He's very cute,” he said, and then went back to watching Pip. He and Ophélie were both pleased and proud when her team won the game, and she came off the field with a broad grin of victory, as they praised her.

He offered to take them to lunch afterward, and they went to a pancake house at Pip's request, had a nice brunch together, and then Matt went back to the beach. He wanted to work on the portrait, and said as much to Pip in a whisper as they left, and she winked. And after that, she and Ophélie went home. The phone was ringing as soon as Ophélie opened the door, and she could guess who it was.

“My, my… now he's coming to Pip's soccer games?” Andrea's voice was full of innuendo, as Ophélie shook her head at her end. “I think you're holding out on me.”

“Maybe he's in love with her, and he'll be my son-in-law one day,” Ophélie said, laughing. She had expected this. “I am not holding out on you.”

“Then you're crazy. He's the best-looking man I've seen in years. If he's straight, grab him, for chrissake. Do you think he is?” Andrea said, suddenly sounding concerned.

“Is what?” Ophélie hadn't gotten the gist of what she said. It hadn't even occurred to her, and either way, she didn't care. They were just friends.

“Straight. Do you think he's gay?”

“I don't think so. I never asked him. He was married, for heaven's sake, and had two kids. But what difference does it make?”

“He could have become gay after that,” Andrea said practically, but she didn't think he was gay either. “But I don't think so. I think you're nuts if you don't grab him while you've got the opportunity. Guys like that get snatched off the market before you can sneeze.”

“Well, I'm not sneezing, and I don't think he's on the market any more than I am. I think he wants to be alone.”

“Maybe he's depressed. Is he on medication? You could suggest it, that might get the ball rolling. Of course, then you could have the issue of side effects to deal with. Some antidepressants depress men's sex drives. But there's always Viagra,” Andrea said optimistically while Ophélie rolled her eyes.

“I'll be sure to suggest it to him. He'll be thrilled. He doesn't need Viagra to have dinner with us. And I don't think he's depressed. I think he's wounded.” That was different.

“Same thing. How long ago did his wife leave? Ten years? It's not normal for him to still be alone. Or to be so interested in Pip, if he's not a child molester, which I don't think he is either. He needs a relationship, and so do you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wilson. I feel better already. The poor man, he should only know that you're reorganizing his life, and mine. And prescribing Viagra.”

“Someone has to. He's obviously incapable of organizing this himself, and so are you. You can't just sit there for the rest of your life. Besides, Pip'll be gone in a few years.”

“I've already thought about that myself, and it makes me hysterical, thank you. I just have to get used to it. Fortunately, I still have time before she leaves.” But it was the one thing that frightened her most now, she couldn't conceive of living alone without Pip, once she grew up. The thought of it depressed her so badly, it took her breath away. But Matthew Bowles wasn't the answer to her problems. She just had to get used to being alone. And enjoy Pip as much as she could while she was still there. Ophélie wasn't looking for anyone to fill the void Chad and Ted had left, nor the one Pip would leave when she went. She was going to have to fill it with work, friends, and whatever else she could find, like the work she was doing with the homeless. “Matt's not the answer,” she reiterated to Andrea.

“Why not? He looks pretty good to me.” Better than that, in fact.

“Then you go after him, and give him Viagra. I'm sure he'll be grateful to you,” Ophélie said, laughing again. Andrea was outrageous, but she always had been. It was one of the things Ophélie liked about her. And they were very different.

“Maybe I will go after him. When is Pip's next soccer game?”

“You're impossible. Why don't you just drive to Safe Harbour and beat his door down with an ax. It might impress him with how determined you are to save him from himself.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.” Andrea sounded undaunted.

They chatted for a few minutes, and Ophélie didn't tell her about the remarkable night she'd had on the streets the night before. Late that afternoon, she and Pip went to a movie, and then came home and had dinner. And by ten o'clock, they were both in Ophélie's bed, sound asleep.

At Safe Harbour at that hour, Matt was still working on Pip's portrait. He was wrestling with her mouth that night, and thinking about how she had looked when she came off the field from the soccer game. She had been wearing the most irresistible grin. He loved looking at her, and painting her and being with her. And he enjoyed Ophélie's company too, but probably not as much as he enjoyed Pip's. She was an angel, a wood sprite, an elf, a wise little old soul in a child's body, and as he painted her, all of those qualities began to emerge. He was pleased with the painting by the time he went to bed that night. And he was still asleep the next morning when Pip called. She was apologetic when she realized she had woken him up.

“I'm sorry I woke you, Matt. I thought you'd be up by now.” It was nine-thirty, which seemed late enough to her. But he hadn't gone to bed till nearly two.

“That's fine. I was working on a certain project of ours last night. I think I've nearly got it.” He sounded pleased, and so did she.

“My mom is going to love it,” Pip assured him. “Maybe we can go to dinner one night and you can show me. She's going to be working two nights a week.”

“Doing what?” He sounded surprised. He didn't even know she had a job, other than volunteer work she'd been planning to do with the homeless at the Wexler Center. This somehow sounded more serious, and somewhat official.

“She's going to work in a van, visiting the homeless on the street, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She'll be out all night almost, and Alice is going to spend the night here, because it'll be too late for her to go home when my mom gets back.”

“That sounds pretty interesting,” he said to Pip. But also very dangerous, he thought to himself, but he didn't want to worry her. “I'll be happy to come and take you to dinner. But maybe we should wait until a night when your mom will be there too. She might feel left out.” He enjoyed Ophélie's company, but also never lost sight of the proprieties, of seeing a child Pip's age without her mother, except on an open beach, as he had all summer. That was different, in his view at least. And he suspected that Ophélie would have agreed. Most of their ideas about children seemed to be fairly similar, and he had great respect for how Ophélie had raised Pip, and was continuing to do so. The results had been extremely good, from all he could see.

“Maybe you can come visit us next week.”

“I'll try,” he promised, but as it turned out, his plans and theirs didn't mesh for the next few weeks. He was working on the portrait, and had some other things to do, and business to attend to. Ophélie was busier than she'd ever expected. She had decided to work three days a week at the Center, and two nights a week on the streets with the outreach team. It was a heavy schedule for her. And Pip had a lot more homework than she wanted to admit.

It was the first of October, when he called Ophélie and invited her to the beach for the day the following weekend, but Ophélie seemed to hesitate, and then explained it to him.

“Ted and Chad's anniversary date is the day before that,” she said sadly. “I think it's going to be kind of a tough day for both of us. I'm not sure how we're going to feel so soon after, and I'd hate to come out and be gloomy and depressed. It might be better to wait another week. Actually, Pip's birthday is the following week.” He remembered it vaguely, but she hadn't said much about it to him, which he thought very adult of her, and discreet.

“We could do both. Let's play the day after the anniversary by ear. It might do you both good to come out to Safe Harbour for a change of scenery. You don't have to tell me till you wake up that morning. And if it wouldn't be an intrusion, I'd love to take you and Pip to dinner for her birthday, if you think that would be fun for her.”

“I'm sure she'd love it,” Ophélie said honestly, and in the end agreed to call him the morning after the anniversary. She suspected correctly they'd be talking to him before that anyway. And even busy as she was these days, she enjoyed hearing his voice on the phone.

She told Pip about both invitations, and she was visibly pleased, although she herself was nervous about the anniversary. She was mostly afraid it would be hard on her mother and set her back again. She had been doing so well lately, and the anniversary date seemed like a major threat to them both.

Ophélie was having a mass said at Saint Dominic's, and other than that, they had nothing planned. There had been no remains after the plane exploded and burned, and Ophélie had purposely not put up headstones in a cemetery over empty graves. She didn't want to have a place to go or mourn. As far as she was concerned, she had explained to Pip the year before, they carried them in their hearts. All that had been left in the rubble were Chad's belt buckle, and Ted's wedding ring, both twisted almost beyond recognition, but she had saved both.

So all they had to do that day was go to mass. They were planning to spend the rest of the day quietly at the house, thinking about the loved ones they had lost. Which was exactly what Pip was worried about. And as the day drew closer, so was Ophélie. She was anticipating the anniversary of their death with dread.

18

AS IT TURNED OUT, THE DAY OF THE ANNIVERSARY dawned sunny and beautiful. The sun was streaming through Ophélie's bedroom windows when she and Pip woke up in her bed. Pip had been there almost every night since the beginning of September. It had afforded Ophélie great comfort, and she was still grateful to Matt for the suggestion. But they were both silent when they woke up that day.

Ophélie thought instantly, as did Pip, of the day of the funeral, which had been equally sunny, and agonizing for all concerned. All of Ted's colleagues and associates over the years, and their friends, had come, as well as all of Chad's friends, and his entire class. Mercifully, Ophélie scarcely remembered it, she had been in such a daze. All she remembered was the sea of flowers, and Pip holding her hand so tightly it hurt. And then from somewhere, like a choir from Heaven, the Ave Maria, which had never sounded as beautiful or as mesmerizing as it had that day. It was a memory she knew she would never get out of her head.

They went to mass together, and sat silently next to each other. At her request, Ted's and Chad's names were read off during the special intentions, and it brought tears to Ophélie's eyes, and once again she and Pip held hands. And after that, they went home, after stopping for a moment to thank the priest. They each lit a candle, Ophélie's for her husband, and Pip's for Chad, and then they drove home in silence. You could have heard a pin drop all day in the silent house. And it reminded them both of the day of Ted's and Chad's deaths. Neither of them ate, neither of them spoke, and when the doorbell rang that afternoon, they both jumped. It was flowers from Matt, he had sent a small bouquet to each of them. And Ophélie and Pip were equally touched. The cards said simply, “Thinking of you today. Love, Matt.”

“I love him,” Pip said simply as she read the card. Things were so simple at her age. So much simpler than they would ever be again.

“He's a nice man, and a good friend,” Ophélie said, and Pip nodded in answer, and took the flowers upstairs to her room. Even Mousse was quiet, and seemed to sense that neither of his owners was having a good day. Andrea had sent them flowers too, which had arrived the previous afternoon. She was not religious or she'd have gone to mass with them, but they knew that she would be thinking about them both, as was Matt.

By nightfall, they were both anxious to go to bed. Pip turned the television on in her mother's room, and Ophélie asked her to turn it off, or go watch it somewhere else. But Pip didn't want to be alone, so she stayed in the silent room with her mother, and it was a mercy when they both finally went to sleep in each other's arms. Ophélie hadn't told her, but Pip knew that her mother had spent several hours that day crying in Chad's room. It had been an utterly awful day for them in every way. There was nothing good about the anniversary, no obvious blessing, no compensation for what they'd gone through. It was a day, like most of the last year, that was entirely about loss.

And in the morning, when the phone rang, they were both at the kitchen table, where Ophélie was silently reading the paper, while Pip played with the dog. It was Matt.

“I don't dare ask how yesterday was,” he said cautiously, after he had said hello to Ophélie.

“Don't. It was as bad as I thought it would be. But at least it's over. Thank you so much for the flowers.” It was hard to explain, even to herself, why anniversaries were so meaningful. There was no reason it should be so much worse than the day after or the day before, but it was. It was like a celebration of the worst day of their lives. There was not a single benefit in it. The entire day was the anniversary of the worst day that had ever dawned, and it was flooded with memories of an agonizing time. He sounded infinitely sympathetic, but had no wisdom to offer, having never been through it himself. His own losses had stretched over time, and finally become evident. They hadn't happened all at once in a single hideous instant like theirs.

“I didn't want to intrude, so I didn't call,” he apologized.

“It was better that way,” she said honestly. Neither of them had wanted to talk to anyone, although Pip probably would have liked to talk to him, she realized. “Your flowers were beautiful. We were very touched.”

“I was wondering if you'd like to come out today. It might do you both good. What do you think?” She really didn't want to, but she thought Pip might, given the opportunity. And she felt guilty just rejecting the invitation out of hand.

“I'm not very good company.” She still felt utterly worn out by the previous day's emotions, especially the hours she had spent sobbing on Chad's bed, muffling the sounds of her crying in his pillow, which still smelled faintly like him. She had never washed the sheets or the pillowcase, and knew she never would. “I can't speak for Pip though. She might like to see you. Why don't I talk to her and call you back,” but Pip was already waving frantically when her mother hung up.

“I want to! I want to!” she said, looking instantly revived, and Ophélie didn't have the heart to disappoint her, although she wasn't in the mood to go anywhere herself. It was hardly a long journey. It only took half an hour, and if it turned out to be too difficult, Ophélie knew they could come back in a couple of hours. She knew Matt would understand. She wasn't much in the mood herself. “Can we go, Mom? Please???”

“All right,” Ophélie conceded. “But I don't want to stay long. I'm tired.” Pip knew it was more than that, but she hoped that once she got her there, her mother would perk up. She knew her mother liked talking to Matt, and she had the feeling she'd feel a lot better walking along the ocean on the sand.

Ophélie told Matt they would be there by noon, and he was pleased. She offered to bring lunch, and he told her not to worry about it. He said he'd make an omelette, and if Pip hated it, he had bought peanut butter and jelly for her the day before. It sounded like just what the doctor ordered, and was.

He was waiting for them outside when they drove up, sitting in an old deck chair on his deck, and enjoying the sun. He looked pleased to see them, and Pip threw her arms around him, and then, as always now, Ophélie kissed him on both cheeks. But he noticed instantly how sad she was. She looked as though there was a thousand-pound weight on her heart, which there was. He sat her in his deck chair, and put an old plaid blanket over her, insisting she stay there and relax, and then he enlisted Pip to help him make mushroom omelettes and help him chop herbs. She liked helping him, and set the table, and by the time Matt sent her to call her mother in, Ophélie was more relaxed, and felt as though the ice block on her chest was thawing a little in the sun. She was quiet during lunch, but by the time he served strawberries and cream, she was actually smiling, and Pip was immensely relieved. Ophélie went to get something out of the car, while he made tea, and Pip whispered to him with a worried look.

“I think she looks a little better, don't you?” He did, and was touched by Pip's obvious concern.

“She'll be okay. Yesterday was just hard on her, and on you. We'll go for a walk on the beach in a little while and it will do her good.”

Pip silently patted his hand in gratitude as her mother came back in. She had gone to get an article on the Wexler Center that she wanted to show Matt. It essentially explained all the things they did, and was very informative.

He read it carefully, nodding, and then looked at Ophélie with renewed respect. “It sounds like a remarkable place. What exactly do you do for them, Ophélie?” She had talked to him about it before, but she had always been intentionally vague.

“She works on the street with the outreach team,” Pip jumped in instantly, and Matt looked at both of them, shocked. It was not what Ophélie would have said, but it was too late to change it now.

“Are you serious?” He looked directly at her, and she nodded, trying to look unconcerned, but she shot a look at Pip, who realized she'd put her foot in it, and pretended to be playing with the dog. It was rare for Pip to make a faux pas, and she was embarrassed, and a little worried that her mother might be annoyed. “It says in the article that they spend their nights on the streets, bringing assistance to those who are too disabled or disoriented to come to the Center, and that they cover all the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city. Ophélie, that's a crazy thing for you to do. You can't do that.” He sounded horrified and looked worried as he stared at her. As far as Matt was concerned, this was not a piece of good news.

“It's not as dangerous as it sounds,” Ophélie said quietly, for once ready to strangle Pip, but she recognized that it wasn't her fault. It was natural for him to react that way. She was well aware of the risks herself, and they had in fact had a close call the week before, with a man on drugs brandishing a gun, but Bob had calmed him down, and convinced him to put the gun away. They had no right to take it away from him and hadn't. But it had reminded her again of the dangers that they confronted every time they went out. It was hard to tell Matt they didn't exist, when they both knew that they did. “The crew is very good, and highly trained. Two of the people I work with are excops, both are martial arts experts, and the third one is an ex–Navy SEAL.”

“I don't care who they are,” he said bluntly, “they can't guarantee to keep you safe, Ophélie. Things can go sour in an instant on the streets. And if you've been out there, you know that too. You can't afford that risk.” He glanced meaningfully at Pip, and then Ophélie suggested they all take a walk on the beach.

Matt still looked upset when they went out, and Pip ran ahead with the dog, while Matt and her mother walked more sedately down the beach. He was quick to bring the subject up again with her.

“You can't do this,” he said, objecting strenuously. “I don't have the right to tell you that you can't, but I wish I did. This is a death wish on your part, or some subliminal suicide wish, you can't take a risk like that, as Pip's only parent. But even disregarding that, why take a risk that you'll get hurt? Even if you don't get killed, all sorts of things could happen to you out there. Ophélie, I am begging you to reconsider.” He looked extremely somber as he spoke.

“I promise you, Matt, I know it could be dangerous,” she said calmly, trying to calm him as well. “But so are a lot of things. So is sailing, if you think about it. You could have an accident when you're alone on your boat. I honestly feel comfortable doing it. The people I work with are enormously skilled and good at what they do. I don't even feel at risk out there anymore.” It was almost true. She was so busy getting in and out of the van with Bob, and the others, she hardly thought of the potential dangers during their long nights. But she could see that she wasn't convincing Matt. He looked frantic.

“You're crazy,” he said unhappily. “If I were related to you, I would have you committed, or lock you in your room. But I'm not, unfortunately. And what's wrong with them? How can they let an untrained woman go out there on the streets with them? Don't they have any sense of responsibility for the people whose lives they risk?” He was nearly shouting into the wind as they walked, and Pip danced on ahead, happy to be back on the beach, as was Mousse, who was bounding and leaping and chasing birds and running up and down with driftwood in his teeth, but for once, Matt paid no attention to Pip or the dog. “They're as crazy as you are, for God's sake,” he said, furious with the people at the Center.

“Matt, I'm an adult. I have a right to make choices, and even to take risks. If I ever get the feeling it's too dangerous, I'll stop.”

“You'll be dead by then, for chrissake. How can you be so irresponsible? By the time you figure out that it's too dangerous, it'll be too late. I can't believe you can be so foolish.” As far as he was concerned, she had taken leave of her senses, and was clearly out of her head. He admitted that it was admirable, but thought it far too foolhardy for her to do, particularly in light of Pip, and her responsibilities to her.

“If something happens to me,” she said, trying to tease him out of his worries a little bit, “you'll just have to marry Andrea, and you can both take care of Pip. It would be great for her baby too.”

“I don't find that amusing,” he said, sounding almost as stern as Ted had from time to time, and it was very much unlike Matt, who was always easygoing, and kind. But he was extremely worried about her, and felt totally helpless to make her change her mind. “I'm not going to give up on this,” he warned her on the way back toward his house. “I am going to hound you until you give up this craziness. You can still work at the Center, and do whatever you do for them in the daytime. But this outreach program is for cowboys and lunatics, and people who have no one depending on them.”

“My partner in the van is a widower with three small children,” she said quietly, with a hand tucked into Matt's arm as they walked.

“Then he has a death wish too. And maybe if my wife had died and I had three small children to raise, I would too. All I know is that I can't let you do this. If you're looking for approval from me, don't. I won't give it to you. And if you're trying to worry me sick, I am. I'm going to be panicked every time I know you're going out on the streets, for your sake and Pip's,” and he almost added “and my own,” but he stopped himself and didn't.

“Pip shouldn't have told you,” Ophélie said calmly, and he shook his head in despair.

“I'm damn glad she did. Otherwise I never would have known. You need someone to talk sense into you, Ophélie. You have to give this some more thought. Promise me you will.”

“I will. But I swear to you, it's not as bad as it sounds. If I feel uncomfortable, I'll stop doing it. But if anything, I feel more comfortable about it now. The people on the outreach team are extremely responsible.” What she didn't tell him, though, was that the group was small, they often spread out, and in simple fact, if someone shot one of them, or lunged at them with a knife or gun, it was unlikely that the others could move fast enough to save someone, particularly as they weren't armed. You just had to be smart and fast and keep your eyes open, which they all did. But beyond that, for the most part, they had to rely on their own wits, the benevolence of the homeless they served, and the grace of God. There was no question in anyone's mind, at any given time, something bad could happen. And Matt had no problem whatsoever figuring that out.

“This conversation isn't over, Ophélie, I promise you that much,” he said, as they walked back to his house.

“I didn't plan to do this, Matt,” she said by way of explanation, “it just happened. They took me out with them one night, and I fell in love with it. Maybe you should come with us and see it for yourself,” she invited him, and he looked horrified.

“I'm not as brave as you are, or as crazy. I'd be scared to death,” he said honestly with a look of horror, and she laughed. She didn't know why, but she felt right being out there, and was no longer scared. She hadn't even been as frightened as she would have expected to be when the addict pulled the gun on them, but she didn't say anything about it to Matt. He would have had her locked up, as he'd threatened to earlier. And nothing she had said so far had reassured him in any way.

“It's not as scary as you think. Most of the time, it's so touching, you just want to sit down and cry. Matt, it rips out your heart.”