Matters Of The Heart Part 3

And when she dressed and went out, the air felt brisk. She pa.s.sed people going to visit each other, and others coming out of the Mercer Hotel after lunch. She walked around SoHo and all through the Village. It was a sunny afternoon, and the snowfall of the day before was starting to turn to slush. She felt better when she got back to the loft, and worked some more. And at eight o'clock, she realized that she had nothing to eat in the apartment. She thought of skipping dinner, but was hungry, and finally decided to go to the nearest deli, to get a sandwich and some soup. The day had turned out to be a lot easier than the one before, and the following day she was planning to go to her gallery on the Upper East Side to talk to them about her show. She was relieved, as she put her coat on, to think that she had made it through another year. She dreaded Christmas, but with the exception of the bad moment the day before in Central Park, this one hadn't been too rough. And she was amused to see a row of cooked, stuffed turkeys lined up at the deli, ready for anyone who needed an instant Christmas dinner.

She ordered a turkey sandwich with a slice of cranberry jelly on it, and a container of chicken soup. The man at the deli knew her, and asked how Christmas Day had been for her.

"It was fine," she said, smiling at him, as he looked into the violet eyes. He could tell from the things she bought from him that she lived alone. And from what he could see, she didn't eat much. She was tiny, and at times looked very frail.

"How about a piece of pie?" She looked to him like she needed a little fattening up. "Apple? Mince? Pumpkin?" She shook her head, but helped herself to a container of eggnog ice cream, which she had always loved. She paid, thanked him, wished him a Merry Christmas, and left with her provisions in a brown bag. She was hoping not to spill the soup, and that the ice cream, with its proximity to the lukewarm container, wouldn't melt. She was concentrating on not spilling it, as she walked up the steps to her building, and saw a man with his back to her in the doorway, carefully looking for a name on the bell. He was hunched over to see the names better in the dim light, and she was standing behind him, waiting to open the door with her key, when he turned and she stared, with a sharp intake of breath. It was Finn, wearing a black knit cap, jeans, with a heavy black wool coat, and he smiled as he looked at her. His whole face lit up when he smiled.

"Well, that makes things easier. I was going blind trying to read the names. I lost my gla.s.ses on the plane."

"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise. She was stunned.

"You didn't answer my last email, so I figured I'd come over and find out why." He looked relaxed and totally at ease as they stood talking on the front step, and Hope was shaking as he took the brown paper bag from her hands. She didn't know why he had come, but it frightened her. It seemed so bold and unnerved her.

"Be careful you don't spill it. It's soup," she said, not sure what to say next. "Do you want to come up?" There was nothing else she could say. She couldn't brush past him and go home and leave him on the doorstep.

"That would be nice," he said, smiling, but Hope hadn't smiled yet. She felt panicked to be talking to him on her front step. He had entered her world without invitation or permission or warning. And then he looked at her gently. He could see she was upset. "Are you mad at me for coming?" He looked worried, as the wind whipped her hair.

"No. I just don't know why you did." She looked afraid.

"I have to see my agent anyway, and talk to my publisher. And to be honest, I wanted to see you. You've been on my mind since you left. I'm not sure why, but I can't get you out of my head." She smiled then, and unlocked the front door, wondering if she should go back to the deli for more food. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered, or angry at him for the intrusion, without checking with her first. He was impulsive, and as full of charm as he had been when they met. It was hard to stay angry at him, and her initial reaction of fear began to dispel as they walked up the stairs.

Without further conversation, she led him up to her apartment and unlocked the door. She went to put the food in the kitchen, and rescue the ice cream before it melted, and then she turned to look at him. He was staring at the photographs on her walls.

"That's the most beautiful ballerina I've ever seen," he said, studying each print closely, and then looking at her with a puzzled frown. "She looks like you. Was that you as a young girl?" She shook her head, and invited him to sit down. She offered him a gla.s.s of wine, which he declined. He glanced around the peaceful, spare decor as she lit the candles and then sat down on a couch across from him with a serious expression.

"I hope nothing I said made you feel that you should come," she said quietly, still feeling uncomfortable seeing him in her apartment. She blamed herself if she had led him on or encouraged him, but she didn't think she had.

"You sounded sad. And I missed you, though I'm not sure why," he said honestly. "I had to come to New York at some point anyway, so I decided it might as well be now, before I finish my book and start the next one. I won't want to come for months after that. And I was sad myself when Michael left this morning, earlier than planned. Don't be mad. I'm not here to push you into anything." She knew there had to be plenty of other women available to him, if he wanted them. She just didn't understand what he wanted from her. She offered to share her sandwich with him and he smiled and shook his head. It had been an incredibly impulsive move for him to come, and she couldn't decide if it was flattering or scary. Most likely both.

"I'm fine. I had a huge meal on the plane, but I'll keep you company while you eat." She felt silly eating a sandwich in front of him while he ate nothing, so she put it aside, and then he shared the soup and ice cream with her. By the time they got to the eggnog ice cream, he had her laughing at the stories he told, and she had started to relax, in spite of the startling visit from a man she scarcely knew. It was awkward seeing him sitting there, stretched out on the couch and totally at ease in her loft.

They were just finis.h.i.+ng the ice cream when he asked her about the ballerina again. "Why do I feel as though that's you?" It was particularly odd because the ballerina in the photographs was blond, and Hope's hair was so dark. But there was a similarity between her and the young dancer, a kind of familiar look. She took a deep breath then, and told him what she hadn't planned to share with him.

"That's my daughter, Camille." In answer to what she said, he looked stunned.

"You lied to me," he said, looking hurt. "You said you didn't have kids."

"I don't," Hope said quietly. "She died three years ago, at nineteen." He was silent for a long moment, and so was Hope.

"I'm so sorry," he said, looking shaken as he reached out to touch her hand, and she looked deep into his eyes.

"It's all right." She told herself silently again, 'That was then. This is now,' as the monks had taught her in Tibet. "You learn to live with it after a while."

"She was a beautiful girl," he said, glancing at the photographs again and then back at Hope. "What happened?"

"She was in college, at Dartmouth, where my father taught when I was a child, although he was gone by then. She called me one morning, with the flu, and she sounded really sick. Her roommate took her to the infirmary, and they called me an hour later. She had meningitis. I talked to her and she sounded awful. I got in the car to go up to her from Boston, Paul came with me. She died half an hour before we arrived. There was nothing they could do to save her. It just happened that way." There were tears rolling slowly down her cheeks as she said it, and she had a peaceful look on her face, as Finn watched her. He looked devastated by what she'd said. "She danced in the summers with the New York City Ballet. She had thought about not going to college and dancing instead, but she managed to do both. They were going to take her in as soon as she graduated, or before if she wanted. She was a wonderful dancer." And then as an afterthought, she added, "We called her Mimi." Hope's voice was barely more than a whisper as she said it. "I miss her terribly. And her death destroyed her father. It was the last straw for him. He had already been sick for years, and drinking heavily in secret. He stayed drunk for three months when she died. One of his old colleagues at Harvard did an intervention on him, and he put himself in a hospital and dried up after that. But when he did, he decided that he couldn't be married to me anymore. Maybe I reminded him too much of Mimi, and the loss. He sold his business, bought a boat, and left me. He said he didn't want me sitting around waiting for him to die, that I deserved better than that. But the truth was too that losing Mimi was so devastating for both of us, that our marriage fell apart. We're still good friends, but every time we see each other we think of her. He filed for divorce, and I left for India. We still love each other, but I guess we loved her more. After that, there wasn't much left of our marriage. When Mimi died, we all did in a way. He's not the person he was, and maybe I'm not either. It's hard to come through something like that in one piece. So there it is," she said sadly. "I didn't want to tell you in London. I don't usually tell people about her. It's just too sad. My life is very different without her, to say the least. It's all about my work now. There's nothing else. I love what I do, that helps."

"Oh my G.o.d," Finn said, with tears in his own eyes. Hope could sense that he had been thinking about his own son while she told him the story of her daughter. "I can't even imagine what that must be like. It would kill me."

"It almost did," she said, as he came to sit next to her on the couch and put an arm around her shoulders. Hope didn't object. Feeling him close to her helped. She hated talking about it, and rarely did, although she looked at the photographs on the wall every night and thought about her all the time, still. "The time I spent in India helped. And in Tibet. I found a wonderful monastery in Ganden, and I had an extraordinary teacher. I think he helped me to accept it. One really has no other choice."

"And your ex-husband? How is he about it now? Did he go back to drinking?"

"No, he's still sober. He's aged a lot in the last three years, and he's a lot sicker, so it's hard to tell if it's Mimi or the disease. He's as happy as he can be on his boat. I bought this loft when I came back from India, but I travel a lot, so I'm away much of the time. I don't need a lot in my life. Nothing makes sense without Mimi. She was the center of our life, and once she was gone, we were both pretty lost." The pain she had experienced showed in her work. She had a deep connection with human suffering that came out in the photographs she took.

"You're not too old to marry again and have another child," Finn said gently, unsure of what to say to comfort her. How did you comfort a woman who had lost her only child? What she had told him was so enormous that he had no idea how to help her. He was shocked by the story she had told him. Hope wiped her eyes, and smiled.

"Technically, I'm not too old, but it's not very likely, and it doesn't make much sense. I can't see myself marrying again, and I haven't dated since Paul and I divorced. I just haven't met anyone that I wanted to go out with, and I wasn't ready. We've only been divorced for two years, and she's been gone for three. It was a lot to lose at the same time. And by the time I do find someone again, if I ever do, I will be too old. I'm forty-four now, I think my baby-making days are pretty much over, or will be soon. And it wouldn't be the same."

"No, of course not, but you have a lot of years ahead of you. You can't spend them alone, or you shouldn't. You're a beautiful woman, Hope, you have a lot of life in you. You can't close the door on all that now."

"I don't really think about it, to be honest. I try not to. I just wake up every morning and face the day. That's a lot. And I put everything into my work." It showed. And then, without a word, he put his arms around her and held her. He wanted to s.h.i.+eld her from all the sorrows in her life. She was surprisingly comfortable in his peaceful embrace. No one had done that for years. She couldn't even remember the last time. She was suddenly glad he had come. She hardly knew him, but his being there seemed like a gift.

Finn sat there holding her for a long time, and then she smiled up at him. It was nice just sitting with him and not talking. And then slowly he let go of her, and she went to make herself a cup of tea and pour him a gla.s.s of wine. He followed her into the kitchen, and helped himself to more of the eggnog ice cream. He offered her some, and she shook her head, and then wondered if he was hungry. It was really late for him, in fact it was the middle of the night in London.

"Do you want some eggs or something? It's all I have."

"I know this sounds crazy," he said, looking sheepish. "But I'd love some Chinese food. I'm starving. Is there any place like that around here?" It was Christmas night and not much was open, but there was a Chinese restaurant nearby that stayed open very late. She offered to call them and they were open, but they didn't deliver.

"Do you want to go?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Is that all right? If you're tired, I can go alone, although I'd love it if you'd come." She smiled at him, and he put an arm around her shoulders again. He felt as though something important had happened between them that night, and so did she.

They put their coats on a few minutes later and went out. It was nearly eleven o'clock by then, and it was freezing cold. They hurried along the street to where the Chinese restaurant was. It was still open, and there were a surprising number of people inside. It was bright and noisy and smelled of Chinese food, people were shouting in the kitchen, and Finn grinned as they sat down.

"This was exactly what I wanted." He looked happy and relaxed and so did she.

Hope ordered for them since she knew their food, and it arrived a little while later, and they both dug in. She was surprised that she was as hungry as he was. They were like starving people as they ate almost everything, and talked of lighter subjects than they had all evening. Neither of them mentioned Mimi again, although she was on their minds. They both chatted as they ate their dinner, and everyone around them seemed to be in good spirits. For some, it was the perfect ending to a Christmas Day.

"This is more fun than eating turkey," Hope giggled, as she finished the last of the pork, while Finn polished off the shrimp and grinned.

"Yes, it is. Thanks for coming with me." He looked at her gently. He was deeply touched by her now that he knew all that she'd gone through. It made her seem vulnerable and so alone to him.

"Where are you staying, by the way?" she asked casually.

"I usually stay at the Pierre," he said, leaning back in his chair. He was full and happy as he smiled at her. "But I took a room at the Mercer this time, because it's close to you." He had really come to New York to see her. It was more pressure than she wanted, but right now she didn't mind. She was having a lovely time with him. And somehow being there with him made sense. They hardly knew each other, but she felt a powerful bond with him now that she had told him about Mimi.

"It's actually a nice hotel," she said, trying to look relaxed about his being so nearby. She was still a little stunned that he was there.

"I don't really care about the room." He grinned ruefully. "I just wanted to see you. Thanks for not being mad that I showed up."

"It's a pretty major gesture, I'll admit." She remembered how stunned she was when she saw him on her front stoop. "But a nice one too. I don't think anyone's ever flown from anywhere to see me." She smiled back at him as the waiter brought them fortune cookies and the check, and she laughed when she read hers, and handed it to him.

"'You can expect a visit from a friend.'" He laughed out loud, and then read his to her too. "'Good news is coming soon.' I like these. I usually get the ones that say 'A teacher is a wise man.' Or 'Pick up your laundry tomorrow or else.'"

"Yeah, me too." She laughed again. They walked slowly back to her apartment, and he left her at the front door. He had dropped his bag off at the hotel before he came to see her. And it was nearly one in the morning by then, six o'clock in London, and he was starting to run out of steam. "Thank you for coming, Finn," she said softly, and he smiled at her and then kissed her on the cheek.

"I'm glad I did. And I liked our Christmas dinner. We'll have to make it a tradition to eat Chinese food instead of turkey. I'll call you in the morning," he promised, and she let herself into the building with her key, waved, and watched him walk down the street toward the hotel. She was still thinking about him as she walked upstairs. It had been a lovely evening, and a totally unexpected treat. It was certainly out of the ordinary for her.

She was getting undressed when she heard her computer tell her that she had mail. She went to look, and it was Finn.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening. My best Christmas ever, and our first. Sweet dreams."

This time she answered, as she sat down to her desk. It was all a little overwhelming, and she didn't know what to think. "It was wonderful for me too. Thank you for coming. See you tomorrow."

She glanced at Mimi's photographs as she got up from her desk. She was glad that she had shared her with Finn. In an odd way, for a few minutes at least, it brought her back into their midst. She would have been twenty-two by then, and it was still hard to believe she was gone. It was odd how people came into one's life, and left, and then others came when you least expected them to appear. For the moment, Finn was an unexpected blessing. And whatever happened, she was grateful to have spent Christmas night with him. She was still stunned that he was there. She had decided not to let herself worry about it and just enjoy the time they shared.

Chapter 6.

Finn called her the next morning and invited her to breakfast at the Mercer. She had nothing important to do and was delighted to join him. He was waiting for her in the lobby and looked as handsome as he had in London. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater with jeans, with his dark hair freshly brushed. He looked wide awake when she saw him, and he admitted he had been up for hours, and had walked around the neighborhood at the crack of dawn. He was still on London time.

Hope ordered eggs Benedict, and Finn ordered waffles. He said he missed them when he was in Europe, where they were never quite the same. He said the batter was different and in France they put sugar on them. He poured maple syrup all over them as Hope laughed at him. He had drowned them, but he looked ecstatic when he took a bite.

"What are your plans today?" he asked her over coffee.

"I was going up to the gallery where they're showing some of my photographs of India. Would you like to come?"

"I'd love it. I want to see the show."

They took a cab uptown after breakfast, and he was enormously impressed when he saw the work. It was beautifully hung in a large, prestigious gallery, and afterward they walked up Madison Avenue, and then over to Central Park to walk through the still white snow. In the rest of the city, it was melting and turning to slush, but it was still pristine in the park.

He asked her about India, and then they talked about her travels in Tibet and Nepal. They stopped at a bookseller's cart on their way into the park, and found one of his early books. Hope wanted to buy it and he wouldn't let her, and said it wasn't one he loved. They talked about his work then, their agents and careers. He was impressed by all of her museum shows, and she was in awe of his National Book Award. They admired a great deal about each other, and seemed to share a lot of common ground, and as they came out of the park again, he took her for a ride in a horse-drawn carriage, which seemed silly and fun to both of them as they tucked the blanket around them, and giggled like two children.

It was lunchtime by the time the ride was finished, and he took her to lunch at La Grenouille, which was very chic, and they had a delicious meal. Finn liked to eat well, although Hope often skipped meals. And afterward they strolled back downtown on Fifth Avenue, and as she often did, they walked all the way back to SoHo. They were both tired, but had enjoyed spending the day together. He took her back to her apartment, and she invited him to come up, but he said he was going back to the hotel to take a nap.

"Would you like to go to dinner later, or do you have something else to do? I don't want to take up all your time," he said thoughtfully, although he had come to New York to do just that.

"I'd love it, if you're not tired of me," she said with a small smile. "Do you like Thai food?" He nodded enthusiastically, and she suggested a place she liked in the East Village.

"I'll pick you up at eight," he promised, and kissed the top of her head. She went back to her loft then, and he walked back to his hotel. And although she tried not to, she thought about him for the next several hours. He was thoroughly enjoyable company, interesting to talk to, and suddenly an enormous presence. She had no idea what to make of it, or if she should even try to figure it out.

She was wearing gray slacks and a pink sweater when he came to pick her up. And they had a gla.s.s of wine before they went out. He didn't comment on Mimi's photographs this time, but he admired some of Hope's other work. He said he wanted to go to the Museum of Modern Art the next day, to see some of her older work.

"You're the only photographer I know who's in museums," he said with open admiration.

"And you're the only author I know who's won the National Book Award, and been knighted," she said with equal pride. "That reminds me, I never call you 'Sir Finn.' Should I?"

"Not unless you want me to laugh at you. I still feel odd myself when I use it. Although it was pretty exciting to meet the queen."

"I'll bet it was." She smiled broadly, and then she took out a box of photographs she had promised to show him, of Tibet. The photographs were amazing, and she pointed out several of her beloved monks.

"I don't know how you managed not to talk for a month. I couldn't do it," he admitted readily. "Probably not even for a day."

"It was fantastic. It was actually hard to start speaking again when I left. Everything I started to say seemed unimportant and too much. It really makes you think about what you're saying. They were wonderful to me there. I'd love to go back one day. I promised them I would."

"I'd love to see it, but not if I have to stop talking. I suppose I could write."

"I kept a journal while I was there. Not talking gives you time for some fairly deep thoughts."

"I suppose it would," he said easily. She asked him then where he had lived when he grew up in New York. "The Upper East Side," he replied. "The building isn't there anymore. They tore it down years ago. And the apartment where I lived with Michael was on East Seventy-ninth. It was pretty small. That was before the books really took off. We had some lean years for a while," he said without embarra.s.sment. "When my parents died, they had pretty much eaten through the family money. They were fairly spoiled. Particularly my mother. The house in Ireland belonged to her family, and since there were no male heirs, they sold it. I'm glad I got it back. It'll be nice for Michael to have one day, although I doubt he'll want to live in Ireland, unless he's a writer." Finn grinned at the thought and Hope smiled. Ireland was famous for its no-tax policy for writers. She knew a number of them who had moved there. It was irresistible.

They left for the Thai restaurant then, and had an excellent meal. And while they ate dinner, Finn asked her what she was doing on New Year's Eve.

"Same thing I do every year." She grinned. "Go to bed at ten o'clock. I hate going out on New Year's Eve. Everyone is crazy and drunk. It's a great night to stay home."

"We have to do better than that this year," Finn insisted. "I'm not crazy about it either, but you have to try at least. Why don't we do something ridiculous like go to Times Square and watch the crystal and mirrored ball fall down, or whatever it does. I've only seen it on TV, although I imagine the crowd is pretty awful."

"It might be fun to photograph," she said thoughtfully.

"Why don't we try it? If we hate it, we'll go home."

She laughed, thinking about it, and agreed.

"Then it's a date," he confirmed, looking pleased.

"How long are you here?" she asked, as they finished dinner.

"I haven't figured that out yet. I might do some work with my editor before I go back." And then he looked at her carefully. "The rest depends on you." She felt a tingle of nervousness run down her spine then. She didn't know what to answer when he said things like that, and he had a few times. Knowing that he had come to New York to see her was an awesome responsibility as well as a gift. She was just finis.h.i.+ng dessert when he looked across the table at her, and took her breath away with what he said. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Hope."

She didn't want him to have said what he just did, and she had no idea how to respond. Let me know when you figure it out? Don't be silly? So am I? She didn't know what she felt for him yet, but she liked him a lot. Of that, she was sure. But as a friend or a man? It was too soon for her to tell. "You don't have to say anything," he said, reading her mind. "I just wanted you to know how I feel."

"How can you know that so soon?" she asked, looking worried. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. She wondered if love happened that way at their age.

"I just do," he said simply. "I've never felt like this before. And I know it's fast. But maybe it happens that way sometimes, when it's for real. I think at our age, you know what you want, who you are, and what you feel. You know when you've found the right person for you. It doesn't have to take a long time. We're grown-ups, we've made mistakes before. We're not innocents anymore." She didn't want to tell him that he had a lot more experience than she, but he knew that about her anyway. He could tell. And she had been married for nearly half her life, and single for only the past two years. "You don't need to feel pressured because I feel that way, Hope," he went on. "We have a lifetime to figure it out, or as long as you want." She had to admit, he was sweeping her off her feet. And this was completely different from the time she'd shared with Paul. Finn was wilder, more creative, his whole existence was more free form. Paul had been extremely disciplined in every way, and deeply involved in his work. Finn seemed more engaged in life, and the world. And his was a broader world, which appealed to her a lot. Hers had broadened a great deal too in the past few years. She was open to new people, new places, new ideas, like her monastery in Tibet and the ashram in India, which she would never have thought of going to before she lost Mimi and Paul.

They walked back to her apartment after dinner, and this time he came up for a drink. She was nervous that he would try to kiss her-and she didn't feel ready to yet-but he didn't. He was relaxed, but gentlemanly, and respected her boundaries. He could sense too that she wasn't prepared to deal with more than what they were doing. Walking, talking, going out for meals, getting to know each other. This was why he had come to see her, and exactly what he wanted. And she felt as though no one had been as devoted to her so soon after they met. Paul wasn't in their early days, he was too busy, and he was sixteen years older, which was very different. She and Finn were almost the same age, of the same generation, and had many of the same interests. If she had made a list of everything she wanted in a man, Finn had it all. But she hadn't wanted anyone since Paul. And now Finn was here, big as life. And she had only known him for a week. But so far, it had been a very intense week, and they were spending a lot of time together.

They went to the MOMA the next day, and the Whitney Museum the day after. They went to all her favorite restaurants, and his. He met with his agent to talk about a new book deal. And much to her amazement, she missed him for the few hours he was gone. Other than that, he was with her every minute, except when he left her at her loft at night. He still hadn't kissed her, but he had mentioned again that he was falling in love with her. She had just looked at him with worried eyes. What if he was playing with her? But even more frightening was the thought that maybe he wasn't. What if this was for real? What would happen? He lived in Ireland, and she in New York. But she wouldn't let herself think about it yet. It was too soon. It just didn't make sense. Except even Hope knew that it did. It made a lot of sense, for both of them. She could base herself anywhere in the world, and they knew it. And so could he. It was an ideal situation. They seemed perfectly matched.

Hope didn't tell Mark Webber, her agent, what was happening when he called. And there was no one else for her to tell. Mark was her closest friend, and she liked his wife as well. They invited her over to have dinner, but she declined. She didn't want to tell him Finn was in town to see her. She knew Mark would be shocked, or surprised at least, and probably fiercely protective and suspicious. She wanted to spend the evening with Finn. So she said she was too busy with some new work, and Mark promised to call again the following week, and told her not to work too hard.

And on New Year's Eve, as they had agreed earlier in the week, she and Finn went to Times Square. She took an old camera with her, to take shots in black and white. They got there around eleven, and artfully wended their way through the crowd that had been waiting there for hours. The characters around them were extraordinary, and Finn enjoyed watching it through her eyes. They were having a great time.

At midnight, the ball fell from the top of a flagpole with lights flas.h.i.+ng inside it, and everyone screamed and cheered. There were prost.i.tutes and drug dealers, tourists, and college kids from out of town, every form of humanity around them, and she was so busy taking pictures of them at midnight that she was startled when Finn put her camera aside and stood before her, and pulled her into his arms. And before she knew what had happened, he was kissing her, and everything around them was forgotten. All she was aware of and remembered later was Finn kissing her, and feeling totally safe and protected in his arms, wanting the kiss never to end, and as she looked into his eyes afterward in amazement, she knew that she was falling in love with him too. It was the perfect beginning for a new year. And maybe a new life.

Chapter 7.