A Sudden Change of Heart (27 page)

Claire could only nod.

“Oh, darling, why ever didn’t you say anything then? I could have helped you!” Laura exclaimed.

Shaking her head, Claire answered in a whisper, “How could you have helped me? You were only a little girl, younger than I. My own mother couldn’t help me.”

“Did she know?” Laura asked in a horrified voice.

“She tried to stop him!” Claire cried, anger surging through her. She endeavored to clamp down on it and continued in a calmer tone. “My mother wanted to protect me, to stop him. But he would beat her until she couldn’t stand, and then he would turn back to me. He started when I was seven, hitting me, as well as touching me, kissing me. I resisted him as long as I could … but he became more and more insistent … finally I gave in to him. I had to. It was the only way to stop him from beating my mother. It was easier just to lie there and be silent than to get her involved and see her so badly hurt. Occasionally, I would fight him off. He really had it in for me after that. He would beat me until I couldn’t move.”

“Oh, God, how terrifying for you! You must have been frightened to death most of the time.”

“I was.

“He was foul, awful. I hated him.” Claire began to weep. Tears trickled down her face as she continued. “But at least, once I gave in to him, he stopped hurting my mother.”

Laura put her arm around Claire and drew her closer, endeavoring to soothe her. “If only you’d confided in me and Grandma. We could have done something, I know we could.”

“I was afraid to tell you,” Claire gasped between her tears. “I was embarrassed. Ashamed. It was so sordid. Sometimes I thought it must be my fault. I was torn up. I didn’t know what to do. So I just concealed it, pushed it down inside, pretended it had never happened.” Claire began to sob uncontrollably, her body shaking as the dam of suppressed emotion finally burst inside her.

Laura held her closer, stroking her shoulders, saying gentle words of sympathy, giving Claire her love and compassion. Eventually, Claire managed to calm herself; gradually the tears ceased. She sat up, groped for a tissue in the pocket of her caftan, and wiped her eyes, striving for control.

Laura said, “Your father … Well, Grandma Megan once insinuated that your father was a womanizer, and that this was the reason why your mother drank. But she was wrong, wasn’t she? He was an abuser.”

“He was both, Laura. Please believe me, he was chasing after women all the time. It broke their marriage. And my mother’s heart, I’ll admit that. She found escape and solace in a bottle.”

“I’m so sorry,” Laura whispered. “I’m so terribly sorry you had to go through that alone, Claire, when you were so young. It breaks my heart to think about it.”

“I wasn’t alone, in a sense. Because I had you and Grandma Megan. And Grandpa Owen. You were my refuge. Just as this place was. Rhondda Fach was always my safe haven. I always felt secure, safe, and loved when I was here with all of you.”

“When did … when did he stop?”

“When I was fifteen I told him I was going to tell your grandfather, and ask Grandma Megan to take me to a doctor for an examination. So that she’d know I was speaking the truth. I finally realized I needed words—not fists—to stand up to him. He was scared of being exposed to the Valiants. It’s a pity I hadn’t understood that years earlier, because it would have been a weapon I could have used.”

“I think so, and I wish it had been different for you. I can’t believe I didn’t detect something was truly wrong. I know you cried a great deal, but I thought you were unhappy and worried because your mother drank such a lot of vodka.”

“I was a good little actress, wasn’t I?”

“That you were.”

“My father made me hate men, distrust them. He scarred me, and he ruined my life. I know I would have been a very different person if he hadn’t abused me. Laura, I was only
seven
when he started—” Claire’s
voice
broke, and she had to wait a moment or two before continuing. “I am sure I would have trusted Philippe, been a better wife, if not for my father’s abuse.”

Laura nodded. “I agree with you.”

Claire now explained. “Whenever Philippe had to go away on a trip, to do research, or be in quarantine for his work, I always believed he was really with another
woman. Like my father had been. My father was a
genuine
womanizer. Anyway, I was constantly suspicious of Philippe. I was resentful and bitter as well, and I made a lot of mistakes with my husband.” Claire let out a heavy sigh and shook her head sadly. “I think that in many ways I treated Philippe unfairly. He’s not a bad man.”

“Is that why you’ve agreed to let him come and see you on Sunday? Because you know that you were also at fault in the marriage, and that he never was entirely to blame.”

“Partially. But also because Natasha is so eager for him to visit me. She longs for us to be friends. Lately I’ve come to understand that she loves her father.”

“Yes, I know that, Claire. She’s conveyed the same to me.” Laura cleared her throat and gave Claire a long, careful look. “Do you still believe Philippe had a lot of women when he was married to you?”

Claire bit her lip, appeared chagrined all of a sudden. “Perhaps not. I’ve examined my life a lot in the last couple of weeks, and I realize how very damaged I was as a person. How could I possibly think straight with my history?”

“Your father’s behavior was monstrous! He’s responsible for all the mental anguish you’ve had to contend with since you were a child.” Laura sounded angry.

“That’s true. And he’s responsible for my cancer.” Claire sat up straighter and looked directly into Laura’s vivid blue eyes. “I mean that.”

“I know you do, and I tend to agree. You believe that your repression of all of this for so many years left you vulnerable to cancer.”

“His acts were reprehensible. The only way I could go on living was to bury them deep inside myself. But nevertheless,
they still gnawed at me, destroyed me, turned me into an angry, distrustful woman. I was ravaged by a bitterness I couldn’t rid myself of. And at one point I was really consumed by the memories. But I managed to keep going somehow. I thought when he died I’d feel differently, feel better, but I didn’t. And the memories just ate at my innards … like a cancer.”

“It
has
been medically proven that mental and emotional stress, plus repression of strong emotional pain, can cause all types of illnesses in people. So I’m with you on that, Claire.”

“I feel a sense of relief at last, now that I’ve confided these things. Perhaps I might start healing … and in many ways.”

“I hope so. Didn’t you ever tell
anyone
about your father? Not even Philippe?”

Claire shuddered. “Oh, God, no. How could I have told anyone else except you? You’re the closest person to me, and look how long it’s taken me to speak about it to you.”

“If only you’d unburdened yourself sooner.”

“I should have.”

Laura said, “You look drained. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Thanks, that’d be nice,” Claire replied, and forced a smile.

I
t was true, she did feel very tired, sapped of all energy at the moment. And so Claire went and lay down on Laura’s bed, nestling herself in among the mounds of white pillows. How often she had done this as a child. Waiting for
Laura, as she waited for her now, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, the scent of her perfume. Ma Griffe. Laura had worn it for years—a fresh green smell, that was the way Claire thought of it.

She had always longed to be part of the Valiants, for as far back as she could remember, part of that wonderful family and all the love that spilled out of them. Thankfully, they had taken her in, transformed her into one of theirs, and miraculously they had made her forget her father and what he did to her when she was at home. For a short while, when she was with them, she was a different person. And it was Laura who made her feel clean again, just like Laura was herself. Pure. Innocent. Untouched. A good girl.

Claire curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed and closed her eyes for a moment or two. Her thoughts ran amok in her head; but she managed to rein them in, take control of them again. She could not dwell on the past. She had to think of the present and the future. She knew she did not have much longer to live. She was dying.

She kept up the facade, going along with Laura and everyone else, agreeing that she had improved in health. It was true that she had been revitalized here at Rhondda Fach, that she had more energy all of a sudden. But she wasn’t getting better. The chemotherapy hadn’t worked. The doctors had told her that, confirmed what she already knew herself.

All of the things she had to do had been done. The only outstanding matter was the sale of the apartment in Paris. But Hercule would take care of that and transfer the money to Laura, who would put it in the trust account they had opened for Natasha. Her thoughts turned to her
daughter. The miracle of her life. Her joy. Claire smiled, feeling warm inside, thinking of Natasha. She had gone out for a drive with Megan and Fenice. Actually, they had gone marketing; Natasha was planning a special dinner for tonight.

Claire took a deep breath, feeling unexpectedly dizzy. She closed her eyes once again. After a few minutes she saw her daughter’s face in her mind’s eye, so fresh, so young, a beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her. Claire was thankful Natasha had Laura to guide her, to look after her in the years ahead. I can die in peace because of my true-blue Laura.

Natasha had been very brave and courageous thus far. When Claire had told her that she had made Laura her legal guardian, there had been no problem. Natasha had said she understood. But later, from the things she had said, Claire realized there was a good rapport between the girl and her father. And so she had finally given in and said Philippe could visit. He was coming to see them the day after tomorrow. Somehow, she would get through it.

Hercule had told her that Rosa Lavillard had asked to see her. To apologize, that was the way he had put it.

Hercule believed it was important for Natasha to get to know her grandmother, and Claire wondered if he was right about that. In the end it would be up to Laura’s discretion though. After all, she was going to be in control. Just the way I wanted it, Claire thought to herself, and she pushed herself up on the bed as Laura came bustling in with the tea tray.

“Two mugs of Grandpa Owen’s famous coal miner’s tea!” she cried. “Hot and strong and sweet. And slices of
chocolate cake, courtesy of Natasha. She made it this morning for you.”

“It’s my favorite,” Claire said, smiling. “And so is this tea.” As she spoke, she made an effort to get off the bed.

“Stay there, Claire,” Laura instructed, and hurried across the floor. She placed the mug of tea on the bedside table, along with a plate of cake, and then arranged the many pillows behind Claire. “There, that’s much more comfortable, isn’t it?”

“Yes, thanks, darling.” Claire took a sip of the tea and continued. “Hercule told me about Rosa’s request. Why does she want to see me?”

“She’s devastated about your illness, and she wants to come here and tell you how sorry she is that she wasn’t a good mother-in-law to you.”

“So Hercule was right. I tended not to believe him, Laura. So, she’s coming to apologize. Is that it?”

“Yes. Hercule was just repeating what I’d told him.”

“Could she come with Philippe this Sunday? I think I’d like to get them out of the way at the same time, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. And all right, I’ll arrange it, if you’re up to it on Sunday.”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll have Grandma Megan phone Rosa later.”

“They should drive up together,” Claire murmured, “that would be best.”

Laura stared at her. “You’ve certainly agreed very readily.”

Claire nodded. “I’ve had a sudden change of heart.” She smiled faintly. “I’m doing it for Natasha. That’s what this is all about really. And also for you, Laura. If I don’t
get through this bout with cancer, you’ll appreciate having them around. And so will Natasha, of course. They’ll be supportive.”

“That’s exactly what Grandma Megan said to me.”

“She’s a wise woman, and she knows the way of the world. She’s certainly got everybody’s number … that’s why I believe her theory about Doug.”

“I didn’t know she had a theory,” Laura exclaimed, looking startled.

“She says she told you.”

“She never did. When did she do
that?
Did she say?”

“Yes, she told me she mentioned it to you when you first broke up. She said she suggested to you that there must be someone else, another woman, and that was the reason he was being so obliging about the apartment, and the other financial matters.”

“It’s true, she did say that,” Laura muttered, remembering, and went and sat on the edge of the bed. “Doug does have someone else, Claire. At least I’m pretty sure he does.”

“Did he tell you finally?”

“No. I guessed … and I guessed who it was.”

“Who is she?”

“Actually, it’s Robin Knox.”

Claire was silent for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, and then she asked, “Are you sure?”

“All of the indications are there. And Robin’s fiancée broke off her engagement to him….” Laura’s voice trailed off. “in any case, we’re not married any longer, so what Doug does is his business. I gave him my blessing when we split up, and he knows I’m always there for him
if he needs me. Just as he’s there for me. That’s the way we feel about each other, Claire. We’re good friends.”

“I know you are,” Claire said. “And it’s better it happened now, that you ended your marriage when you did. You’re still young enough to start a new life with another man.”

“I don’t know about that,” Laura said softly.

“You will, Laura, trust me, and in the not too distant future.”

Laura threw her an odd look but refrained from answering.

27
     

R
osa Lavillard sat very still in the chair near the bed, looking at Claire, wishing she were not so ill, wishing
she
could do something about making her feel better. But she knew she couldn’t; neither could Philippe, even though he was a brilliant doctor. Such a pity, Rosa thought. So young.
She’s so young.
Her heart filled with compassion, and it took all of her self-control not to start weeping for Claire.

Suddenly Claire opened her eyes, and smiled faintly at Rosa. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fade on you a moment ago.”

“Can I get you anything?” Rosa asked in a worried tone.

“No, thanks,” Claire murmured.

Taking a deep breath, Rosa said, “I was wrong, Claire, all those years ago. Very wrong to behave the way I did toward you. I should have attempted to understand you, tried to get to know you better, before I made any judgments about you.”

Claire blinked and shook her head. “Whatever your judgment was, it was more than likely correct. I was a very troubled young woman in those days.”

“I didn’t give you a chance, and that was unfair. I was
being protective of Philippe. You see, I thought you wouldn’t understand the complexity of his nature, wouldn’t understand where he was coming from as the child of a Holocaust survivor.”

“I did love him a lot.”

“As he loved you, Claire. However, you were both volatile, just as Pierre and I were, and volatile marriages don’t auger well for the future. Not usually. Somehow mine lasted. But your stormy relationship was something else that troubled me. Going back to the beginning of your courtship, I realize that I wasn’t nice to you, merely civil and nothing more. I should have known better, as a mature woman. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

“I guess my marriage to Philippe wasn’t meant to be. But at least the most glorious child came out of our union. A truly wondrous gift she’s been, my darling Natasha.” Claire’s green eyes shone brightly.

“From what everyone tells me, she’s very special, unique really,” Rosa murmured. “And she’s a beautiful young woman. She looks older than her age in some ways.”

“They all do these days. You haven’t seen much of her, or spent much time with her, but that’s partly because you live in New York, Rosa, and she’s lived in Paris most of her life. I’m … I’m so sorry you don’t properly know your only grandchild.”

Rosa inclined her head, but she didn’t respond, simply leaned back in the chair and endeavored to relax a little. She had wanted this meeting, but she had also been apprehensive about it.

“Natasha’s going to be living with Laura in the city, going to the Chapin School,” Claire volunteered.

“That’s near me!” Rosa exclaimed, unable to conceal her sudden excitement.

“I know. What I was going to say is that I want the two of you to get to know each other. It’s about time too. I’ve told Laura she must arrange it in the fall.”

“I would love to spend time with her, Claire, and with you too. I want to repair the damage. Do you think there’s a chance we can be friends?”

When Claire didn’t reply, Rosa continued. “I apologize to you, Claire, and with all my heart. I did a terrible thing all those years ago, and I’ve regretted it for the longest time. Can you see it in your heart to forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. We were all wrong in our different ways.” Claire closed her eyes for a moment, settled against the pillows. A second or two later she opened them and looked at Rosa intently. She said, “What did you mean when you said you thought I wouldn’t understand Philippe’s problems?”

“He is the child of a Holocaust survivor, as you know, Claire.” Rosa paused, shook her head as if reproving herself, and went on. “That was another stupid thing on my part, I should have told you about my life during the war. Since you didn’t know much, it was virtually impossible for you to understand anything about me. Anyway, Philippe, like many similar children, has had a hard time coming to grips with what happened to me and to my family when I was a child. He thought he was somehow an insignificant part of my life, nothing of any great consequence in view of the
enormity
of the Holocaust. That horrendous catastrophe somehow manages to overshadow
and overwhelm our children. Some children of survivors are even oddly jealous of their parents because they know they will never experience anything so immense as the Holocaust.”

Claire was frowning when she said, “I don’t think Philippe is the kind of man to feel that.”

Rosa nodded in agreement. “He didn’t, and doesn’t. What was problematical was the absence of a family, of a family past, and of a family history and inheritance. I know he definitely had feelings about all that. You see, the common element that binds together all of the children of survivors is this unnatural disruption of family history … because of that catastrophic occurrence that wiped out so many people.”

“I can understand that, and Philippe
was
odd in certain ways, I agree. He was also an angry young man in those days.”

“That is the truth, Claire.”

“He did feel he must do something worthwhile, something for humanity, like saving lives.”

“That was always the driving force in his life.”

“Is he still troubled, Rosa?”

“I think perhaps he always will be, but he’s learned to live with my past as well as his own life. Just as Pierre did. He and his family were in Switzerland when war broke out in France, and they remained there for the duration. So thank God my husband didn’t personally suffer, although his family did. They, too, had many losses. Philippe has learned to control the anger and the despair. He’s a good man, a worthwhile man, and I think he is at peace with himself.”

“I hope so,” Claire whispered.

“Are you all right?” Rosa asked, leaning forward, a concerned expression ringing her mouth.

“Yes, I’m all right. Just catching my breath.”

They sat in silence for a while, and when Claire finally opened her eyes again and looked at Rosa, the older woman said, “Claire, please forgive me, won’t you?”

“I forgive you, Rosa. I know you want to hear that, but truly, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Oh, but there is,” Rosa insisted.

Claire reached out, groped for Rosa’s hand. “Grandma Megan told me your story recently, she told me about the hole … where they hid you … she told me about the things that happened to you. How ever did you survive?”

“I’m not sure, I often ask myself that. Willpower, determination, the desire to conquer, not to be beaten by the Nazis. Just wanting to live, I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you tell me years ago? Why didn’t Philippe tell me?”

“I don’t know … except that once a woman I met said she was sick of the professional Jews who were always showing their numbers … the numbers tattooed on their arms when they were in the death camps. Her words stunned me, and I never ever spoke of my past to anyone again. Not that I’d discussed it much at all, but that woman had diminished in the most dreadful and derisive way the suffering of so many … millions.”

“I understand,” Claire said, shifting her position in the bed and leaning on her side. “Rosa?”

“Yes, Claire?”

“Will
you
forgive
me
… for keeping your granddaughter away from you?”

“Of course, of course,” Rosa said swiftly, and added, “but as
you
just said, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Claire beckoned with one finger for Rosa to come closer. “Come and sit on the edge of the bed,” she murmured softly.

Rosa did so; her eyes did not leave Claire’s face.

Claire whispered, “I’m not going to make it,” and took hold of Rosa’s arm. “I’m dying.”

“No, don’t say that, Claire!” Tears filled Rosa’s eyes; she blinked them away. “I know you’re very sick, but Laura said you’d
improved.”

“Yes, I did for a while, here at Rhondda Fach. But I can’t last much longer, I can’t fight anymore, Rosa, I’m tired.”

“Oh, my poor Claire,” Rosa said, and the tears fell out of her eyes and splashed down onto her hands holding Claire’s.

“Don’t cry,” Claire murmured. “I’ll be all right where I’m going … it’s just that I’ll miss Natasha and Grandma Megan and my darling Laura.”

Rosa was unable to speak. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding Claire’s hand for the longest time. Finally she bent forward, put her arms around Claire, and held her close, just as she had held her son when he was a small boy. And they stayed like that for a long time.

Eventually the two women drew apart and Claire said, “Don’t say anything to the others, will you?”

“No, I won’t,” Rosa said, and thought: Laura knows even if everyone else is deluded. She knows, but she’s keeping up a front for Natasha.

Rosa shifted slightly on the bed and started to get up, when Claire opened her eyes. “Don’t go, please. Stay for a
few minutes longer. I need to gather my strength before I see Philippe.”

Rosa nodded. “All right. Do you want me to get anything for you, Claire? A glass of juice perhaps?”

“No, thanks. I just need you to stay with me, Rosa.”

P
hilippe Lavillard sat with Laura in the solarium, drinking a tomato juice and chatting to her. They were alone. He and his mother had arrived at Rhondda Fach an hour before, only to find that Natasha was out with Fenice and Hercule Junot.

Now he said to Laura with a faint smile, “They must be buying an awful lot of groceries, it’s taking them so long.”

Laura explained. “It’s about half an hour to Balsamo’s, the best produce stand in the area, and half an hour back, and they did have to go into Kent to pick up other stuff. But they’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.”

Philippe nodded. “It’s just that I’m eager to see Natasha …” He focused his dark eyes on Laura more intently, and said in a warm voice, “I haven’t thanked you, Laura, for all that you’ve done for Natasha, and will be doing. I’m very grateful.”

“She’s a wonderful girl. Certainly she makes it easy for us all to love her. She adores Grandma Megan, they’ve got quite a little thing going between them. Anyway, we’re just happy to have her around. Natasha’s got such spirit and warmth, a certain kind of joie de vivre that’s infectious. She’s always willing to pitch in and help, and she has a great sense of responsibility; she’s actually very grown-up for her age.”

“Yes, she is, but then, I think a lot of European children are. They just seem to mature at an early age. Natasha’s been brought up in a single-parent environment, and that’s more than likely made her independent and capable. Anyway, you know what Claire’s like … she’s always treated Natasha as an adult, and expected her to behave like one.”

“I know,” Laura said, and laughed. “Natasha’s always had to stand up and be counted on. By the way, I’m glad you agree with us about sending her to Chapin. Claire selected the school, and I just hope Natasha gets in.”

“I’m fairly certain she will,” Philippe answered. “Natasha likes school, and that makes her a good student. Also, she seems to be diligent and hardworking.”

“She is.” Laura sipped her apple juice, and then went on. “Do you like living in Atlanta?”

“Yes, I do, although if I had the choice, I’d be in New York. There’s no place like one’s hometown. But aside from that, New York’s such a great city, I get a hell of a kick out of it.”

“I guess you don’t miss Africa,” Laura remarked, looking at him questioningly.

“Not at all.” He grimaced. “If I live to be a hundred, I won’t miss the sickness and disease, the grinding poverty, the cruelty of the politicians, the barbarity of the soldiers. Nor will I miss the droughts, the famine, the violent wars, the wholesale death and destruction on an unimaginable level.”

“I asked a stupid question,” Laura muttered, looking embarrassed. Suddenly, she felt a bit foolish.

“No, you didn’t,” Philippe was quick to assure her, smiling warmly. “Of course, Africa is beautiful, and the
game parks are extraordinary, out of this world. In fact, there’s something about being out there in the bush that simply takes my breath away. But I’ve had my fill of Africa … I just became burnt out, Laura. Utterly exhausted. I wasn’t functioning properly anymore, and as I said to Francine, I’d better get out before I get sloppy and manage to infect myself with some deadly virus like Ebola or Marburg.”

“Who’s Francine?” Laura asked, looking at him alertly.

“Francine Gillaume is a French socialite with a conscience. She’s given a lot of money to some of my research programs over the years. Almost all the time I worked under the auspices of the Pasteur Institute. And naturally she agreed with me, even though it meant I was off one of her pet projects.”

“Being a virologist is pretty dangerous. Hazardous work, isn’t it?”

Philippe grinned at her. “Only if you’re sloppy, as I just mentioned. Getting burnt out, becoming over-exhausted, can easily be a death warrant.”

“Claire looks quite good. But she isn’t, not really,” Laura said, suddenly changing the subject. “I know she gave you permission to talk to her doctor at Sloan-Kettering. Did you?”

“Yes, I did. He says she’s a real fighter, a tough one, and that she—” Philippe stopped as Natasha came rushing into the solarium, her face wreathed in smiles as she flew across the room to greet him.