Chapter Two
A Thursday in May.
There was a room in the base of the clock tower in Dunstan’s Close where all the gifts sent to Zachary on his birth had been stored. Neither Zoe nor Wesley could bear to enter the door and see the piles of happy cards and gracious baby presents. Wesley had asked Beth to help him draft replies to all their friends and colleagues. She had come to Dunstan’s Close on two successive weekends to accomplish this task and to her great credit, she had never once asked why the beautiful items were not in use, or why she was writing the notes for him instead of Zoe.
As time went by and there were no invitations to come to London and meet the new baby, there were questions and concerns that Wesley knew were being ignored. He also knew this situation could not continue any longer.
Iris was a firm fixture in the home. Wesley worked most mornings and Zoe also worked for part of the day. The sessions with Louis Bernier continued and Zoe insisted they were helpful, but Louis confided he was not of the same opinion.
“My friend, I believe your wife is attending these meetings with me to please you. She has not contributed anything meaningful either in our conversations or in her journaling. I feel she is reluctant to delve deeply enough to uncover the reason for her fear of motherhood. I suspect it is tied to her mother’s desertion, which is how she perceives the suicide, and yet she has not made that mental leap for herself.”
Wesley sighed deeply. He could not help noticing how Iris was becoming his son’s mother figure. Zoe was progressing in contact with her son but so much time had now gone by that he was afraid it could never be recovered, and there would always be a rift between Zachary and his birth mother. Wesley was also afraid that Iris might soon prefer to go elsewhere and leave him with the impossible task of finding a substitute.
“Look, Louis. I appreciate your candour. This cannot go on much longer without severe damage being done to Zach’s relationship with his mother. I need help. What can you suggest?”
Louis Bernier was prepared for this question. He had watched as his friend and colleague had grown more and more tightly wound in the last month. He was ready with a risky strategy.
“I think it’s time to take a chance and force Zoe to confront the result of her abdication of responsibility for Zachary.”
“How would we do that?”
Louis gauged the level of Wes’ desperation by the speed with which he had accepted this suggestion.
“Invite your closest friends to visit. They will be shocked and it could make Zoe confront her issues in a serious way.”
“What? It might be dangerous. What if she regresses and loses the little progress she has made?
Frankly, I am afraid of the risk.”
“I understand your fear, Wes, but what else can you do? Zachary is forming a very strong bond with Iris. Soon he will identify her as his mother. If he speaks his first word, “dada” to you, and his second word “mama’ to Iris, Zoe will never recover.”
“My God, you may be right! That would be devastating. I will have to think about this, Louis. It’s a big step to take.”
“I realize it is. Meantime, I think I should reduce or abandon my meetings with Zoe. She will still have your support, of course. Is there someone else you would trust to continue with therapy?”
“My former teacher, Professor Aylward Beck, is wise and knowledgeable. He knows Zoe but he lives in Toronto.”
“I have heard of Professor Beck. He could at least advise you, Wes. It might be worth a try.”
“Perhaps you are right about that. Thank you, Louis. You have done your best for us.”
“Let me know what happens. I am always on call for you, Wes.”
An hour or two passed before Wesley could summon the courage to call Aylward Beck. He had been in contact once, since Zachary was born, because the Becks had sent a most extravagant gift for the baby.
At that time, Wesley had given him some indication that all was not well with Zoe. He felt that by now, Aylward and Marian would have formed their own conclusions as to the problem.
He dialed with some trepidation, but also in desperation. He had to get help for Zoe.
“Wesley, my boy, so good to hear from you again! Marian was just saying how much she would love it if you would bring the family here for a summer break. Our new condo in the sky with fabulous views of the Toronto Islands has plenty of room for guests. There’s an entire suite we can reserve for you three any time you want.”
“Very kind of you both, Aylward, but I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” His voice quavered and died.
Aylward Beck had not been a top psychotherapist for nothing. He recognized the signs and immediately dialled down the happy talk for something more serious, as befitting the situation.
“Ah, I see. I was hoping there might be some improvement in Zoe’s condition. I presume it’s a case of Post-Partum depression of some kind? How upsetting for you. What can I do to help? Zoe did so much for our granddaughter Portia. We owe you an enormous debt of gratitude.”
“You, of all people, must see the irony of having to ask for assistance for my wife when it was she who set up the Portal Project to give aid to young women with mental issues, women like Portia.”
“I do see how this troubles you, Wesley. Is there no progress?”
“A little improvement only, I’m afraid; nothing of significance. I cannot ask you to participate personally, Aylward, much as I would like to. You must concentrate on Marian’s health now. I would ask of you a recommendation. Zoe has worked with a male colleague of mine for a time, but he feels he can help her no longer. Perhaps you could suggest the name of a female therapist who is experienced in these areas?”
Normally, Aylward Beck would request considerable time before recommending a therapist. In this situation, because he could hear the anguish in Wesley Philips’ voice, he racked his brain in an attempt to come up with a suitable name at once. Fortunately, he glanced down and saw, on the table in front of him, an article in a magazine which he had been reading earlier. It was in praise of an American therapist who was renowned for work with female patients and who had recently won an award from the prestigious American Society of Psychotherapists for her work.
“Wesley, get a copy of this month’s Psychology Today. There’s a profile you will be interested in. Her name is Sophia D. Vantisen. She has done much work with women and might be exactly the person who could help Zoe.”
“I’ll do that immediately! Thank you for such a quick response, Aylward. As each day passes I become more and more concerned for our son’s relationship with his mother. We both know the dire effects of maternal rejection. I don’t have much time.”
“I am confident you will do the right thing, my boy. Marian and I will be here if you need us.
Goodbye for now.”
Wesley could hardly get the final word of farewell out of his mouth. His throat had closed with emotion. It was so reassuring to talk to someone who understood the situation. As this thought struck him with undeniable force, he realized Louis’ idea of supplying Zoe with the same kind of reassurance was possibly the best thing to try. He would make efforts to contact this Dr. Vantisen but he would also call Sandra Halder on Mull, Valerie Westwood in Canada and Corinne Carstairs in the Midlands, and pray that one of them, at least, could come to London as soon as possible.
Zoe returned from a busy morning in the Excelsior offices and stood quietly with her hand on the ornate doorknob of her home. She took a moment to remember all the blood, sweat and tears that had gone into the renovation of the old church building that was now a sturdy testament to love, renewal and determination.
She and Wesley had achieved this together. Much like they had created Zachary together. How could it be that the building was here, solid and growing more beautiful every day, while their dream of perfect parenthood was fading like a valuable tapestry left out in the sun.
Wesley had never accused her of failing either him or Zachary. He had not set a time limit on her recovery but she knew in her heart how much he suffered on behalf of their little boy.
She raged inside at the injustice of it. If she could will herself to become the warm, happy mother Wesley had expected, and Zach deserved, she would do it in a second. But wishing was not the solution.
She could feel anger. She could feel regret. She could not feel the overwhelming love for Zachary that she had felt when he was safely in her womb.
She no longer winced when he looked at her. He no longer looked at her for a response. He was content with Iris’ care and attention. She should have been jealous of Iris. Instead she was grateful to the woman who did what her baby’s mother could not do.
This too, was likely unnatural.
She, Zoe Morton-Philips, was an unnatural mother and, seemingly, no one could help her.
A tear trickled down her cheek. Should she flee and relieve everyone in Dunstan’s Close of her presence? The deep, dark, fast-flowing Thames River was not far away. Her body could be swept out to sea. It would not be found for days or weeks. By then she would be forgotten and Zach could be happy with the lovely, motherly Iris.
In her mind she was jumping from the Embankment into the river and a chill, like icy water, swept through her from her head to her feet, and back to the hand that still clasped the doorknob.
It was the solid feel of the doorknob that brought her back to reality.
What in the name of all that’s holy am I thinking?
How could I even contemplate doing such a thing to Wesley, my beloved husband who has stood by me all these weeks? God in heaven, is this how my mother felt?
Before the evil thoughts could return she flung open the door and threw down her briefcase and coat on a chair, running into the kitchen and searching for a sight of Zachary, or Wes or Iris. Anyone who could confirm that she had not actually done or said anything so wicked. Please God, they would not be able to read it in her face.
“There you are, Mummy! This little one wants you to feed him his applesauce. I’ll fetch you a tea towel to protect your pretty blouse. Sit right here and I’ll pop Zachary in his chair.”
She fell into the chair beside the baby’s high chair with relief. She was too raw to worry about herself for fear of the dreadful thoughts she had just experienced showing in her face or manner. She picked up the open jar and the plastic spoon and offered a spoonful to her son.
Zachary Philips loved sweetened applesauce and he opened wide to get every drop. At this moment he would not have cared if a monkey had offered the treat. He was focussed on what he wanted.
Zoe had not even tried to smile at him. He was happily ignoring her and, for once, she was relaxed and watching him instead of watching for her own negative reactions.
When Wesley arrived from the kitchen with the warmed bottle in his hand, he stepped back and his mouth fell open in surprise. Iris touched his arm and signalled to him to stay quiet. They both watched in amazement.
Iris was experiencing deep satisfaction. She had known all along this moment would occur naturally if she had patience.
Wesley felt like weeping. He had begun to despair of ever seeing such a sight. And yet, he knew it was merely a first, tentative step. Zoe would not recover overnight.
He became conscious of moments passing and was alerted to intervene before Zach cried or Zoe suddenly did something awkward and spoiled this unusual, happy interlude. Better to approach now and keep this as a successful step forward for both of them.
“Well, hello my two precious people! How wonderful to see you together like this. He cast a beaming smile on Zoe and an equally reassuring one on their son. “Shall we let Mummy go and change now? I’ll give you this bottle and then I need to talk with Mummy before I go to work. Is that all right with you two?”
Zoe was still stunned at what had just happened. She had not yet processed the incident and she wanted to hear what Wes would make of it. As she stood up she caught sight of Iris hovering in the background with a look on her face that suggested a mother watching her child with pride. Some might think Iris was the mother and Zach the child in question, but Zoe knew in her heart Iris’ look of pride was directed at her.
What an absolute treasure Iris is. I can never thank her enough for what she has done for Zachary and for me.
Twenty minutes later, Zoe came downstairs again dressed in more casual clothes, ready to hear from her husband.
“Darling, how do you feel about what happened with Zach a short time ago?”
“I’m not sure. It felt different. I didn’t feel the usual panic. It could have been a fluke of course.”
“Possibly, but I am choosing to see it as a new beginning for us. I promise not to rush you, Zoe. I have been doing some serious thinking about our situation. While you were at work I made two calls.”
“Oh?”
“The first was to Aylward in Toronto.”
“Wesley, I am feeling so guilty about them. I have ignored them abominably and they have been so kind. What did he say?”
“I asked Aylward for a recommendation and he suggested a female therapist. That was my second call.”
Zoe put aside her anxiety about what Wesley might have said to Aylward regarding his wife’s condition, and listened to hear Wes talk about this new therapist. She had not made much progress with Louis Bernier despite her attempts. This new woman could hardly be worse, could she?”
“I will explain everything later, but Sophia Vantisen was amazing. She is based in New York, works exclusively with women patients and although she can’t see you for several months, she asked me a most crucial question about you.”
“What question?” Her nervous tension was rising. As a private person, Zoe hated to think she was the topic of curiosity, even if it were to someone she might never meet.
“She asked me if you had a mother who could help you.”
Zoe was stunned. She could not make the connection to what Wesley had said. What was crucial about the question? What had made her husband so excited?”
She saw his eager expression fade a little as he received no affirmation. Then, it hit her. Louis had been hinting at the mother issue from the start and this woman was clearly following the same rule book. Wes was obviously in agreement also.
She had two choices. Insist on repeating what she had told Louis; she could not recall any early influences related to her mother. Or, give her husband a chance to explain what he understood this new Sophia therapist to mean.
She chose the latter. It might have been simple exhaustion that caused her not to fight him. It might have been a gleam of hope in the word ‘help’.
In a few more seconds she was so glad she had chosen correctly.
“My darling, this is what I believe. You should have had a mother here to help you in the first days after Zach was born. I blame myself for being so pigheaded that I thought I alone could do all that was needed to guide you through the difficulties you experienced.
I want to make up for that hubris now. I also called Valerie, Corinne and Sandra today.”
He stopped at Zoe’s sharp intake of breath. “Wait! Don’t be upset. Each of them knew instinctively what had been going on. No one was surprised in the least and they each wanted to help at once.”
A rush of relief swept through Zoe. She loved these women so much. Seeing them would make her feel that everything could be fixed. She wondered why she had not thought about this before now.
Wesley continued.
“There’s good news and bad news, however. Valerie is in Vancouver helping her friend Jean get ready for her move to Oban to stay with her daughter’s family. Arthur told me Corinne is back in Los Angeles with Carla and the twins, and he sends this message from Corinne. It appears Carla will soon be in a movie to be made in England and she will bring the twins with her so they can meet Zach.”
It was like a warm, soothing bath to be immersed in news about the outside world again. For too long her own feelings and anxieties had occupied her mind to the exclusion of everything else. The thought of Carla’s two and Zach playing together in Dunstan’s Close was immensely reassuring.
“That’s not all! Sandra has agreed to come here as soon as she can get away from Mull. Ian has ordered a conservatory for their house and she wants to see it started.
With Sandra’s own experience as mother to three girls, and with her daycare business, can you imagine anyone better to have with us?”