“I don't know how I can ever thank you. It's the most beautiful present I've ever had.” It was truly a gift of love, not only from Pip, but from Matt.

“You're an amazing woman,” he said gently, as he sat next to her on the couch. And an honorable one, he knew, which had come to mean a great deal to him, particularly in light of what Sally had done to him, and what he now knew had been done to Ophélie. She was very rare, and so was he. But the people they had loved had also been unusually cruel.

“You're always so good to me and Pip,” she said gratefully, as he looked down at her and took her hand. He wanted her to trust him, and he thought she did, but he didn't know how much. And what he wanted to say to her was going to require a great deal of trust.

“You deserve to have people be good to you, Ophélie. And so does Pip.” He felt as though they were part of his family, and he was the only family she and Pip still had. It seemed as though all else had been lost.

And as he looked at her, he leaned toward her gently, and kissed her on the mouth. She was the first woman he had kissed in years, and she hadn't been touched by a man since her husband died. They were two fragile, cautious beings, like stars, floating gently through the skies. Ophélie was startled, she hadn't expected him to kiss her, but much to his relief, she didn't resist or pull back. She just seemed to hang there in the moment with him, and when he stopped, they were both out of breath. He had been afraid she would be angry at him, and he was immensely relieved that she was not, but she looked scared, as he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

“What are we doing, Matt? Is this crazy?” More than anything, she needed to feel safe. And she no longer did, anywhere in her life, except with him. And he felt safe with her too.

“I don't think it is,” he reassured her. “I've felt this way about you for a long time. Longer than I knew. I was just afraid to frighten you away if I said anything. You've been so badly hurt.”

“So have you,” she whispered, touching his face with a gentle hand, and thinking how pleased Pip would be. The thought of it made her smile, and she said as much to him.

“I'm in love with her too. I can't wait for you both to meet my kids.”

“Neither can I,” she said, sounding happy, and he kissed her again.

“Happy birthday, my darling,” he said, as he kissed her, and when he left that night, she thought that, without a doubt, it had been the best birthday of her life.





23

THE TUESDAY AFTER HER BIRTHDAY, OPHÉLIE WAS OUT with the outreach team, and Bob reminded her that she was being careless while they were checking what they called “cribs,” the boxes and structures people were sleeping in. They walked up to them, checked if people were inside and awake, and asked what they needed, but they needed to be vigilant while they did it, to avoid surprises. She had been dreamy eyed, and more than once turned her back on groups of young men who approached them. People on the streets were always curious about who they were, where they came from, and what they were doing. But being alert and cautious was vital to the team. The rules of the jungle applied at all times, no matter how friendly people appeared. For the most part, the homeless they encountered were gentle and kind, and grateful for whatever they got. But threaded among them were the inevitable dissidents, the troublemakers, and the predators who preyed on them, and wantonly took the little they had. It was painful to realize that for everything the outreach team distributed, a third or even half of it would be stolen by someone else. It was a world in which the honor code was survival, and little else. Ophélie knew that, as the others did. And all you could do, in helping them, was give it your best shot, and hope it made a difference.

“Hey, Opie! Watch your back, girlfriend. What's up?” Bob asked her with a look of concern as they headed back to the van after their second stop. He wanted to make her aware of it, so no one got hurt. The safety of the entire team rested on each one of them. And although they were casual at times, and joked with each other, and even those they helped, they still had to keep their wits about them and remain aware of the players. They had to anticipate the worst in order to prevent it happening to them. There were the inevitable stories of cops and volunteers and social workers who'd been killed on the streets, usually doing something they shouldn't have done, like going out to work on the streets alone. They knew better, but there was always the temptation to believe that they were exempt and couldn't be touched. Safety, for all of them, lay in being, and staying, alert.

“I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time,” she promised apologetically, focusing more diligently again. She had been thinking about Matt.

“You better be careful. What's happening with you? You look like you're in love.” He knew, because he was. He was having a great time with his late wife's best friend. Ophélie looked at him and smiled as she swung into the van. He was right. She'd been out of it all night. She'd been thinking about Matt. And had been all day. Their kiss the night before had both delighted and rattled her. It was everything she wanted in some ways, and in others the one thing she didn't want at all. Vulnerability. Openness. Love. Pain. All of which had brought her to her knees when Ted died, and nearly killed her when she found Andrea's letter. For a moment, she thought it had. Now, more than anything, she was numb, as she tried to sort out what she felt. About Ted, Andrea, herself, and now Matt. It was a lot to absorb and try to understand. And at the same time it was so tempting to let herself free-fall into his arms and life.

“I don't know. Maybe,” she said honestly, as they headed toward Hunters Point. It was late in their night, when it was usually safer there. By then, a lot of the troublemakers had gone to bed, and the neighborhood had calmed down.

“There's a news flash,” he said with a look of interest. He had come to respect her and like her a lot in the nearly three months they'd worked together. She was smart and honest and solid and real, without artifice or arrogance. There was a simplicity and earnestness about her that had won his heart.

“I hope he's a good guy. That's what you deserve,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks, Bob,” she said, and smiled. She seemed uninclined to talk about it, and he didn't press her. They had an easygoing relationship and solid understanding of each other's rhythms. Sometimes they talked about serious matters. Sometimes they didn't. They were like police partners, they were compatible, respectful of each other, and trusted each other completely. Their lives depended on it. But she paid closer attention, and “watched her back,” as he put it, at the next stop and for the rest of the night.

But she realized as she drove home that night that she was worried about Matt. About what she was doing, and the door that had opened. More than anything, she didn't want to jeopardize their friendship, and a romance, if it went awry, might. She didn't want to risk that for him, or herself, or even more importantly for Pip. If she and Matt got involved romantically, and made a mess of it, it could spoil it all, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Even Pip noticed that she looked quiet and pensive the next morning in the car on the way to school.

“Something wrong, Mom?” she asked as she turned the radio on, and Ophélie winced at the volume, as she always did. It was a raucous way to start the morning. Pip worried less about her mother's moods these days. Whatever else happened, she seemed to recover from the bad days sooner. Although she still didn't know what had happened on Thanksgiving. All she knew was that it had something to do with Andrea. Her mother had told her that they wouldn't be seeing her again. Pip was shocked. But Ophélie refused to answer any questions. And when Pip asked her, “Ever?” Ophélie confirmed it. Ever.

“No, I'm okay,” Ophélie answered, but she didn't look convincing. And she had to struggle for concentration all that day at the Center. Even Miriam at the front desk commented on it. And when Matt called, he could hear it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding worried.

“I think so,” she said honestly, which didn't reassure him. Her uncertainty was unnerving.

“What does that mean? Should I panic?” She smiled in answer.

“No, don't panic. I'm just scared, I think.” She wasn't sure if it was a timing or adjustment issue for her, or something deeper.

“What are you scared of?” He wanted to air it with her, so she'd feel better. He had been floating on air since he kissed her on her birthday. It was just exactly what he wanted, and hadn't known it. Although for a while now he'd been aware of his growing feelings for her, which were not by any means as casual as he'd pretended.

“Are you kidding? I'm scared of you, me, life, fate, destiny, good things, bad things… disappointment, betrayal, your dying, my dying…do you want me to go on?”

“No, that ought to do it. For now at least. You can save the rest till you see me. We can spend all day on it then.” It sounded like it was going to take that long. And then he got serious with her. He was sorry that she was so afraid, and wanted to share his sense of confidence with her. “What can I do to reassure you?” he asked gently, and she sighed.

“I'm not sure you can. Give me time. I just lost the last of my illusions about my marriage. I'm not sure I can handle much more than that. This may not be the right time.” His heart sank at her words.

“Will you at least give us a chance? Don't make any decisions yet. We have a right to be happy, both of us. Let's not blow it to bits before we start. Will you do that?”

“I'll try.” It was all she could do. In her heart of hearts, she thought he might be better off with someone else. Someone simpler, and who had been less brutally hurt than she had been, and again recently. At times, she felt so damaged. Yet with him she always felt peaceful, whole, and safe, which said a lot.

He came to town and had dinner with her and Pip that weekend, and on Sunday she and Pip drove out to the beach to see him. Robert had come up for the day from Stanford, and Matt was anxious for them to meet. Ophélie was enormously impressed. He was a lovely boy, and in spite of the years they had missed together, he was remarkably like Matt. As they often do, genes had won out, and in this case for the best. He spoke very openly about his mother's perfidy at one point, and he was obviously upset about it. But he seemed to accept, and even love her as she was. He had a very forgiving heart. Although he referred to the fact that Vanessa was furious with her, and hadn't spoken to her since she found out.

And by the time she and Pip went back to town, Ophélie felt better again. Matt had put an arm around her several times, and held her hand when they walked on the beach, but he didn't press her, or make it obvious to Pip that something was happening. He wanted to give Ophélie time to adjust. Their relationship, past, present, and future, was of vital importance to him, and he wanted to treat it cautiously, and give her all the time and space she needed to make room for him in her heart.

He was just about to pick up the phone on Monday night to call her, when it rang before he did. He was hoping it was her. She had looked happy and relaxed the day before, and sounded fine when he called her on Sunday night. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he didn't. He wanted to tell her in person the first time he said it, and not on the phone. But it wasn't Ophélie when he answered, or even Pip. It was Sally, calling from Auckland, and he was terrified when he heard her voice. She was crying. And he thought instantly of his daughter, and was deathly afraid something had happened to her.

“Sally?” He could hardly understand her, but even after all these years, he knew her voice too well. “What is it? What's wrong?” All he could make out was “keeled over… tennis court …” and then with a sense of relief that was almost sinful, he realized she was talking about her husband, and not their younger child.

“What? I can't understand you. What happened to Hamish?” And why was she calling him?

She gave a horrible wrenching sob and then shot the words into the phone. “He's dead. He had a heart attack an hour ago on the tennis court. They tried to revive him, but…he was gone.” She started sobbing again, as Matt listened and stared into space, as the last ten years flashed before his eyes. Her telling him that she was leaving him, and then moving to Auckland. The realization that she had been having an affair with his friend, and had left their marriage for him… and then moving to Auckland with his kids… “Hamish and I are getting married, Matt,” the cannonball she had fired at his chest… and commuting for four years to see his kids, only to have her cut him off from them for the last six… and now she was calling to say Hamish was dead. He didn't even know what he felt, for his old friend turned traitor…for her…or himself…he couldn't even think.