EIGHT

June 14, 2012

5:59 p.m.

Lori-Anne stood in front of the Father’s Day card display at the Hallmark store, unable to find something that was appropriate. The covers were wrong, the wording was wrong, the entire idea was wrong. What had possessed her to stop in the first place? After the Mother’s Day fiasco, why bother?

They weren’t parents to anyone anymore.

“Damn it.” She put the card back and hurried out of the store. She slammed the car door, threw her purse on the passenger seat, and drove away. Maybe ignoring Father’s Day was the best thing to do. She’d just thought that if she did something nice, something from the heart, that maybe it would pull Mathieu out of that shell he’d been hiding in for the last two months. She was so tired of being alone and just wanted to feel the tenderness of his fingers against her flesh, the security of his arms around her as they lay in bed, the affirmation that they were still a couple.

She longed for the way he once looked at her, not goofy or anything, but with so much want in his eyes that she found herself light-headed from the joy that burst inside her. He made her feel alive and desired and his, which wasn’t a bad thing. It was an incredible high to be loved that much by another person. His passion quenched the thirst she’d been missing in relationships with other men. After her failed affair with her English professor, Lori-Anne had found her prince charming in this young, idealistic Mathieu. It had not taken long for her to realize that he was exactly the gentle sort of man that she’d been looking for and needed.

That Mathieu had to be there behind that wall of depression. She really believed that. Once in a while, she saw glimpses of him, but his grief kept pulling him away. The more she tried to help, the further adrift they seemed to be.

Lori-Anne pulled in behind the Buick and killed the engine before she realized that she’d driven to Mathieu’s grandparents’ place. Since she was here, she got out and rang the bell.

“It’s so nice to see you,” Grandpa said as he let her in. “You’re alone?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was heading home but somehow ended up here. Hope you don’t mind, but maybe we can talk?”

“Join us in the kitchen,” he said. “I’m making dinner. Did you want to eat with us?”

“I don’t want to intrude—”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Got plenty. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Lori-Anne had always loved this about Grandpa—she pretty much had come to think of both of them as her own grandparents especially since hers had been deceased for quite some time—the way they made her feel welcomed all the time. He and Grandma had always been great listeners, and maybe she needed that right now.

“Thank you,” she said and sat at the small round kitchen table. “How are you doing, Grandma?”

“I’m fine, dear,” she said. Her speech had a permanent slur now. “A little frustrating not being able to do as much as I used to.”

“She saw her doctor yesterday,” Grandpa said. “He told her to take it one day at a time. She could live fine for another ten years without another episode—”

“Or I could have another stroke tomorrow,” Grandma finished.

“Oh, I hope not,” Lori-Anne said. “Just take it easy. You deserve it.”

“I’ve lived a good, long life. A happy one. Sure we had struggles, but Leon made it all worth it. He’s been a good man.”

Leon kissed his wife on the forehead.

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Lori-Anne looked away, thinking that’s what she wanted with Mathieu. When she’s eighty-plus years old she still wants him to look at her the way he did when she was twenty-three. Grandpa and Grandma were proof that love could last forever.

“No more talk like that,” Grandpa said. “We’re depressing Lori-Anne.”

“Just seeing how much the two of you still love each other, that leaves a girl’s heart full of hope,” Lori-Anne said. “Speaking of depression, has Mathieu said anything to you two?”

“We haven’t seen him since Mother’s Day,” Grandpa said. “Called him a couple of times but he cut it short, saying he was busy trying to catch up on orders.”

“He did fall behind,” Lori-Anne said. “I’d hoped that he’d at least spoken with you guys.”

“Things aren’t good lately, are they?” Grandpa said.

Lori-Anne shook her head. “I’d like to lie and say they are, but they’re not. We barely talk. I just don’t know what to do.”

“You keep trying,” Grandpa said. He finished putting the garden salad together and put the bowl on the table. He put three handfuls of noodles into a boiling pot of water and stirred the simmering spaghetti sauce. Garlic bread in the oven smelled like warm buttery comfort.

“That smells so good,” Lori-Anne said. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d skipped lunch again. “He always treats you this good?” she said to Grandma.

Grandma smiled. “You know, we’ve always leaned on each other. I had an awful time when Denis passed away. We tried to tell Mathieu this, how we ended up seeing a counsellor to help me cope, but he wasn’t interested. Medication is so much better than back then.”

Grandpa put three plates on the table. “He can be a bit stubborn.”

“Denis sure was,” Grandma said and took a mouthful of her dinner. “This is wonderful, dear.”

“Well, it’s your recipe so it ought to be,” Grandpa said. “Dig in Lori-Anne.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the cutlery clinking against dinnerware. Grandpa brought out a bottle of red wine and Lori-Anne couldn’t pass that up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed an actual dinner.

“How did you do it?” Lori-Anne asked once she finished eating. “Get through it, I mean.”

“We talked,” Grandpa said. “And we listened. I guess what we had was trust in each other. Not many marriages last without trust.”

“How can I get Mathieu to trust me?”

“You need to talk, the two of you,” Grandpa said.

“He doesn’t want to. And I’m slowly giving up.”

“You can’t,” Grandpa said as he pushed his empty plate to the side and tackled his salad. “He’s angry. Flore wasn’t angry, she was just sad. Mathieu’s anger is a barrier that you’ll need to get through. It’s not going to be easy, I’m afraid. We’ll keep trying too.”

“Thank you, but it almost sounds hopeless,” Lori-Anne said. “He has to want to work it out, but without a clear mind, I don’t see that happening.”

“Problem is that right now Mathieu can’t see the end of his grief. He’s an emotional boy. I remember when he tore the ligaments in his knee and his hockey dreams ended. He was miserable for months.”

Grandma nodded. “Oh my, was he ever. Didn’t matter what we said to him. He’d had his sights on a hockey career for years. Dreamed of playing in the NHL and he was really good so maybe it would have happened.”

“But this is much more than that,” Lori-Anne said. “His knee healed and he moved on. Nadia is gone for good. How can he heal from that?”

“Stick with him and he’ll come through,” Grandpa said.

“I want to believe you so badly,” she said. “I want my husband back, but—”

“It’s hard,” Grandpa said.

“Like you can’t imagine,” she said.

“Don’t give up,” Grandma said. “He’s lucky to have you and he’ll come around. Have faith.”

“I think I need more than that. I need a miracle.”

Grandma reached across the table for her hand. “We’ve always loved you, and we’re sure that Mathieu does too. He needs you to stay strong. Your strength will get you both through this. We believe in you.”

Lori-Anne smiled. It was nice to hear how others saw her, but there were times when she looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t see a strong or confident woman. She saw a little girl who was in way over her head.

And knowing that it was up to her to save her marriage left her feeling like bees were ripping apart her insides, desperately trying to get out.