Ford had never felt this way before. Free. He woke up at night wondering if the feeling would go away, but then something inside him that was calm and big asserted itself and the petty fear withdrew. He saw Rupert again, and this time his brother was more responsive to him. Perhaps it was because Ford told him he hated his addictions, but loved him and would forever. They’d even gone out to lunch, and Rupert had hugged him when he’d left. He didn’t ask for money, either.
Ford also told Teddy, who was doing well in hospital, enjoying visits from a myriad friends now that she was settled in, that he’d support her as a friend, no matter what. He said there was no way they’d be getting back together and for her to inform her parents of that fact. He told her that his attorney was drawing up papers for joint custody of whichever child was his—if either was—and that he was prepared to be a father but not her husband or lover, ever again.
“I like this new Ford,” she said quietly. “You’re brighter somehow, as if something has been lifted and you can see your way. If either one or both of these children are yours, I’ll be proud to tell them you’re their dad.”
It was the nicest day they’d had in years, that day. He realized they could co-parent well, if they had to. And some of the pressure of that concern was lessened.
The portrait Ford had swiftly painted of Greer looked nothing like the one he’d painted in Charleston. The new one, he’d been told by Anne and the gallery owner in Manchester, was brilliant.
“It will headline the show,” the Manchester gallery owner said. “And it will wind up at the Tate Modern. Mark my words.”
“Bloody genius,” Anne had said.
The odd thing was that Ford knew it was, too, and felt no sense of ego about it. He didn’t even feel responsible for it. He’d merely been the instrument by which the portrait came into being. No longer were his brushstrokes carefully constructed to tell the story he wanted to tell. Now they reflected truth, and truth only. Greer’s portrait was a blur of color coming together with a powerful energy that revealed her essence, which he couldn’t even put into words. All he knew was that he loved her.
He couldn’t wait for her to see the new painting—it wasn’t going to the Manchester show, after all, much to Anne’s surprise and the gallery owner’s chagrin. He was taking it to Charleston. He’d cleared a way back to Greer, back to a place he’d come to love, and it hadn’t been easy. But it had been vastly rewarding. More than ever, he was glad for his siblings. They had a chance for a new closeness that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving. That morning he and Anne had gone together to pick up Rupert and take him out for a coffee. Rupert smelled of stale beer, but he was sober, or very nearly so. Ford explained to him why he was going back to the United States. Anne already knew.
“You’re not telling her you’re coming?” Rupert had asked him.
“No. I’m afraid she’ll think of reasons not to see me. All valid. I want to be there when they occur to her so I can state my piece.”
“What if she shows you the door?”
“It’s a risk I have to take,” Ford said. “The payoff if she agrees to give me another chance is greater than any fear I have that I’ll fail.” He noticed Rupert was genuinely listening. And when they dropped him off at his flat, he leaned in the car window and said, “Best of luck,” the way a brother should, and reached in to shake Ford’s hand.
When they drove away, Anne had tears in her eyes. Ford did, too. He reached across the seat and took her hand.
“We’ll have to keep this up,” he said.
“What if you aren’t here to do that?” Anne said. “What if you stay in America?” She blew her nose on a tissue from her bag. “Sorry I’m so weepy.”
He gripped the wheel. “We’ll find a way,” he said. “Planes exist for a reason. I’m financially solvent. I could fly here every month and stay for a week.” He laughed. “You’re being awfully optimistic about my chances to win Greer back.”
She gave a shuddery laugh. “Oh, I know you. You’ll win her over. And not by being a phony. You’re a genuinely good guy, and don’t forget it.”
When his plane took off from Gatwick, he felt ready to take on the challenge and joy of loving someone. But would Greer accept him? That was the question.