The memory keeper's daughter - Kim Edwards [149]
And then David saw her: Phoebe, his daughter. She was in the dining room, setting the table. She had Paul’s dark hair and his profile, and for an instant, until she turned to reach for the saltshaker, David felt as if he must be watching his son. He took a step forward, and Phoebe walked out of his line of vision and then came back with three plates. She was short and stocky, and her hair was thin, held back with barrettes. She wore glasses. Even so, the resemblance was still visible to David: there was Paul’s smile, his nose, Paul’s expression of concentration on Phoebe’s face when she put her hands on her hips and surveyed the table. Caroline came into the room and stood beside her, then put her arm around Phoebe in a quick affectionate hug, and they both laughed.
By then it was fully dark. David stood, transfixed, glad there was little foot traffic. Leaves skittered along the sidewalk in the wind, and he pulled his jacket closer. He remembered how he’d felt on the night of the birth, as if he were standing outside his own life and watching himself move through it. Now he understood that he was not in control of this situation, he was excluded from it as completely as if he didn’t exist. Phoebe had been invisible to him all these years: an abstraction, not a girl. Yet here she was, putting water glasses on the table. She looked up, and a man with bristly dark hair came in and said something that made Phoebe smile. Then they sat down at the table, the three of them, and began to eat.
David went back to his car. He imagined Norah, standing next to him in the darkness, watching their daughter move through her life, unaware of them. He had caused Norah pain; his deception had made her suffer in ways he had never imagined or intended. But he could spare her this. He could drive away and leave the past undisturbed. And that was what he did, finally, traveling all night across the flat expanse of Ohio.
“I don’t understand.” Rosemary was looking at him. “Why can’t you promise? It’s the right thing to do.”
“It would cause too much grief.”
“You don’t know what will happen until you do it.”
“I can make a pretty good guess.”
“But David—promise me you’ll think about it?”
“I think about it every single day.”
She shook her head, troubled, then smiled a small, sad smile. “All right, then. There’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Stuart and I are getting married.”
“You’re far too young to get married,” he said at once, and they both laughed.
“I’m as old as the hills,” she said. “That’s how I feel half the time.”
“Well,” he said. “Congratulations again. It’s no surprise, but it’s good news all the same.” He thought of Stuart Wells, tall and athletic. Strapping was the word that came to mind. He was a respiratory therapist. He’d been in love with Rosemary for years now, but she’d made him wait until she finished school. “I’m glad for you, Rosemary. He’s a good young man, Stuart. And he loves Jack. Does he have a job in Harrisburg?”
“Not yet. He’s looking. His contract here finishes this month.”
“How’s the job market in Harrisburg?”
“So-so. But I’m not worried. Stuart’s very good.”
“I’m sure he must be.”
“You’re angry.”
“No. No, not at all. But your news makes me feel sad. Sad and old.”
She laughed. “Old as the hills?”
Now he laughed too. “Oh, much, much older.”
They were silent for a moment. “It all just happened,