“Hugo,” Jack repeated. “I’ll tell you a secret, kiddo. I think I dallied so long pulling myself together after Autumn’s death because I knew the minute I was back at work, Hugo would leave. I would lose the closest thing I ever had to a child of my own.”
“You could still adopt,” Lucy said. “It’s never too late.”
“Ah, but I’m too scared,” he said with a smile. Then the smile was gone. “People think I put myself into my own books, that I’m the Mastermind. I’m not. Not really. I’m always the child, forever the child, scared but hopeful, dreaming someone will be able to grant my wish someday.” He met her eyes. “Sometimes the thing we want most in the world is the thing we’re most afraid of. And the thing we’re most afraid of is often the thing we most want. What do you want most in the world?”
“Christopher, of course. You know that.”
“And what are you most afraid of? I think we both know, don’t we?”
Lucy looked away, blinked, and the tears fell.
“What if I can’t do it on my own? I don’t know how to be a mother,” she finally said. “Christopher’s already been through hell and back. I can’t fail him. It’ll kill me to fail him. Sometimes, deep down…I think maybe he would be better off with someone else.”
She remembered what Mrs. Costa had said, that once Lucy told Christopher she would never be his mother…it would be a relief. What if she was right?
Jack looked at her. His eyes were gentle and kind.
“We tell people,” he said, “to follow their dreams. We tell them that they won’t be complete until they do, that they’ll be miserable until they start reaching for that brass ring. They never tell you how good it feels to give up on a dream. That it’s a…”
“Relief?” Lucy said.
“A relief, exactly,” Jack said, nodding. “I decided one day that kids weren’t ever going to happen for me, that I was going to be single and childless and that was that. And I awoke the next morning and the sun was dancing on the water and the coffee tasted better than it ever had. It tasted like one less thing to worry about. One less promise to keep. One less fight to fight. One less heart to break. And it was sweet. Almost as sweet as victory. The sweetness of giving up.”
Lucy stared out at the sunlight dancing on the water for her. “Last night at Hugo’s…” she began, not believing she was saying this but knowing Jack—if only Jack—would understand. “I had this thought. What if I gave up? On me and Christopher, I mean? What if I never did become his mother? Maybe I could be somebody’s girlfriend instead, let someone else drive the car. Let someone else, you know, drive my life. Obviously, I shouldn’t be at the wheel, right?” She gave a sad little laugh. Jack only looked at her with compassion. “Like you said—one less thing to worry about.”
“He likes you. Our Hugo. I bet if you went down to the house right now and told him you wanted him to kiss you, he would. If you told him you had decided you didn’t want to finish the game, didn’t want to talk to your sister, he’d understand.”
“Maybe so.”
“So why don’t you? It’s either talk to Angie or quit the game.”
Lucy pictured herself giving up, giving in—one less thing to worry about, as Jack said—and it was a nice picture. Walking down the stony path to Hugo’s little house, knocking on the door, telling him what happened, that Jack had sprung her sister on her, the sister who’d hurt her unforgivably. Hugo would be sympathetic. He’d hold her. He’d kiss her if she told him to. She’d cry to him. He’d comfort her. They’d go for a walkon the beach…the first of many walks on the beach together.I can’t do it anymore,she’d tell him.How can I take care of Christopher when I can’t take care of myself?
And maybe he would say,It’s all right. I’ll take care of you.
And someone else out there could take care of Christopher. And he’d be fine. Eventually.
A nice dream.
Tempting.
Lucy stood up and went to the big picture window in Jack’s office. She gazed down the path to Hugo’s, then at the sunlight dancing on the water.
“I went to live with my grandparents when I was eight. I always wanted my parents to come for me at school,” she said. “Just show up one day, pick me up and take me home. Never happened.”
Jack went to the window, stood beside her. “I’m sorry. It should have happened. If you’d been mine, I would have gone into your classroom with balloons, an ice cream cone, and then put you on the back of a pony and thrown a parade to have you back.”
“I can’t give Christopher a parade,” she said, “and I can’t…I can’t even pick him up and take him home. But I can show up. I can do that.”
Jack turned and kissed her gently on the forehead—like she always wanted her father to do—and said softly, “See? I was right. I told you Astrid was still here.”
Astrid. Her.
Lucy went downstairs to face her fears.
—
Lucy opened the librarydoor and found Angie standing at one of the bookshelves holding a copy ofThe House on Clock Islandin her hands. She closed it and held it against her chest like a shield.
