“How does your lip feel now?” he asked carefully, formally.
“Nothing serious.” She smiled. “I’ll mend. And so will you.”
Anything broken may be mended.
It came to him suddenly that she thought she could mend him. Save him.
This must end.
“You saw the way my mother treated the children,” he said harshly. “I was so angry, but then I saw how old she’s become. How frail.”
“This wasn’t the right setting for a reunion. Too many eyes.”
“There’s no right setting.”
“Why don’t you visit her in her apartments, where she feels safe and at home? She may be more ready to listen to you there.”
“Did you see her face?Don’t touch me, she said. As if I were a leper.”
“I saw an aging woman who doesn’t know how to talk to you, but who was reaching out. She came, didn’t she?”
“She came because she thought I might be ready to marry an aristocratic lady. To do my duty. The children only remind her of the reason for our estrangement.”
“Do you want to tell me about the reasons for the estrangement? It might be good for you to talk about it.” She spoke in a light tone, but her eyes told a different story.
Open your soul. Open your heart.
Break all of the rules.
“Talking about these things, dredging them up from the past, doesn’t help anything,” he said. “Everyone in that room knew that the meeting between us would end in disaster. I had some stupid, foolish little hope that it might go well.”
“It wasn’t a foolish hope.” She raised her hand toward him. “It was a brave hope. One that could grow into a bridge. A trail of stepping stones across the gap that separates you.”
“No man is an island, and all that.”
“Proverbs blossom from the seeds of truth.”
But he was arid soil. Any optimism blighted long ago.
“You might feel better if you told me what happened between you all those years ago.” Her eyes asked him for things he could never give her.
“You evade my questions about your past,” he replied, knowing he sounded cruel, but unable to stop. “Why should I talk about mine?”
She turned her face away.
“I was a fool to think she might have softened toward me,” he said. “Or show any kindness toward the children.”
“I’m not sure,” said Mari. “I detected something in her voice. A falter, so small it could have been easily missed. She didn’t look at them with loathing.”
“You’re imagining things because you want them to be a certain way. You’re an optimist. I’m a realist. I see things as they are. And they’re bleak. Some rifts can’t be mended.”
“Was it really so unforgivable, what you did?”
He nodded. “Some stains can never be washed clean. I’ve made mistakes and I’m paying for them. There are no easy answers for me. You may be able to help my children, but I’m lost. I’ve rolled too far into the darkness. I can’t be retrieved. Or mended.”
“Don’t say that. When I look at you I see a good man. I see a man who loves his children, who’s trying to do the right thing. I see a man who encourages his sister’s dreams.”
“I’ve got you fooled then, it seems.”