A Father for Philip (22 page)

“Well!” Bill said again. “You two will
need some more success of a different kind if you want to fill up all the
bedrooms that old pile. I need your dad’s place, Ellie, for my three to grow up
in, but that place! It’s a mansion.”

“We’ll fill it,” said David and Eleanor
in unison, and when the laughter died down, she said, “When do the babies get
released, and when’s Kathy coming home from her folks’?”

“She’s home now. The babies come home in
a week or two. Stephen first. He’s the biggest. The other two, as soon as their
weight is up to par. That’s why we want to get the nursery arranged. Kathy’s
going back down to the coast in a day or two.”

“She’s home? And we’re sitting here?
Let’s go! I’m dying to see her. I hope you have lots of pictures.” Eleanor
grabbed David’s hand. “Come on, darling. But be prepared for a bit of ice,
won’t you?” she added for his ears alone.

“I am,” he replied quietly. “I can take
it as long as I have you. I saw Bill’s reaction.”

Kathy was distinctly cool until Bill
took her to task. “Look at Ellie,” he said severely. “The sun rose inside her
this morning. Now be nice to her husband.”

A laughing group comprised of four
adults, one small boy and a puppy set out with a will to convert a dingy old
office into a bright shiny nursery big enough for three of everything.

As the two men shoved the heavy, dark
old furniture into the hallway, the women went along behind with brooms mops
and dusters, not wanting to choke the old vacuum cleaner. The one small boy and
the puppy just got underfoot. “Hey, Jeff… I mean Dad, what’s this?” Philip
asked, pulling a yellowish piece of paper out of a crack in the back of the
desk which had once been his grandfather’s.

David didn’t even look. Father like, he
said, “Ask your mother.”

Eleanor took the paper from her son,
opened it and said, “Why, it’s addressed to me! From Dad. I must’ve missed it
when I cleared out this desk.” She began to read aloud.

“‘My
dearest Ellie, I am going to die and I know you will find this when it’s too
late for your hatred to hurt me if it turns out I was wrong to take the chance
I did. When I saw that you had stopped grieving for your man, I—’”

David lunged at her, trying to snatch
the paper from her hand. “No!” he cried hoarsely. “No, Eleanor! Don’t read
that.”

She spun out of his reach, her face
white, her eyes large and dark and hurriedly .continued reading.

“‘I
wrote to Dave, in care of his faculty advisor, the man from the university who
notified us when the search was called off. I told him that you and the boy had
both died the day Philip was born. If your man was ever found, this is why he
never came back. I did it because I could see you had gotten over him and he
would’ve taken you away if he’d come back. Remember, I told him I would fight,
girl, and I did. What I did was wrong, even though I’m sure he will never read
the letter because I’m just as sure he died somewhere in that jungle. But in
case, I want to die with a clear conscience and hope you will to try to forgive
your old

“‘Dad.

“‘P.S.
The photos of him that got lost are in the attic in a black painted wooden box
in the shadows under the eaves where you wouldn’t easily see them. I guess my
grandson deserves to at least know what is father looked like, but I didn’t
want you mooning over them.’”

Eleanor let the paper fall to the floor,
and turned to walk slowly out of the house, as if sleeping. David went after
her, and when Philip would have followed, he heard Kathy say, “No, dear. Let
your parents have a few minutes alone.”

Eleanor knelt beside her bed, her face
buried in the covers, her mind a total blank. David stood beside her, his hand
on her hair, not speaking, when her shoulders began heaving in deep sobs that
tore from her, he picked her up and held, her sitting in the big chair, letting
the storm run its course.

“He stole all those years from us.”

“You see why I couldn’t tell you?”

“I see why you thought you couldn’t. But
you must have despised him, too, when you found out we were alive, as much as I
do at this moment. Or did you think I was part of the deception, too?”

“For a very short time, yes. Until
Philip told me that Grant said you were in love with a ghost. Then I knew it
had been George and him alone. I don’t hate him anymore, darling, and I don’t
want you too, either. Hate is bad for the soul, and he said he’d fight.”

“He said he’d win, too. He almost did,
David! He almost did!”

“Almost wasn’t close enough. He didn’t
win and if I had remembered his saying that, if I had taken it seriously enough
to give it credence, I would have checked. I should have. I’ll never forgive
myself for not doing it.”

“No… You had a letter from him… I had no
proof, no reason to believe that you were dead. I should’ve kept on making
inquiries, especially after he died. But I’m glad about one thing, David. You
weren’t just as lonely as I was all those years. I’m glad, even loving what you
thought was just my memory, you found some happiness. Can you tell me what
happened to them? To Manuela and Juanita?”

His smile, slow and sweet, curved his
mouth. “Remember I told you about Juan Mercado, the man who survived the fall
down the cliff, then died after our raft broke up? That he, too, had a pregnant
wife? That was… is Manuela. The child is Juanita… His child, Eleanor, not mine.
His wife, not mine… Never mine. When I got out of the jungle I went to see her,
of course, to tell her how brave Juan had been, how hard he’d tried to get back
to her. They were very poor, darling, and I had no one. I became Juanita’s
godfather and I helped them financially until Manuela remarried. I kept the
picture because I do love my little goddaughter and I am fond of her mother. I
never loved her, Eleanor. How could I, when there was you?”

She pulled back from him. “Yet you would
have let me go on believing you had loved her, at least lived with her, rather
than tell me what Dad had done?”

“You had forgiven me for what you
thought was my infidelity, so I didn’t have to tell you anything else. I would
rather have had you thinking that than have you as you are now, struggling to
keep alive the good memories of your father. I know how much the two of you
meant to each other and I wanted to spare you that.”

“Would you have told me… To keep me from
marrying Grant?”

He laughed. “I would never have had to.
From the time I first met him, I knew you would never marry him.”

“Then why did you look so terribly
stricken when I told you I was getting a divorce?”

“Because I knew then I would have to
tell you about your father, and I didn’t know if you’d believe me without
proof. I destroyed the letter. Who wants something like that lying around?”

“I would’ve believed you, David,” she
said, looking up into his eyes, her own full of love. “I will always believe
you.”

For a long time there was silence in
their house until the shuffling of small sneakered feet in the doorway
disturbed the two in the chair. They did not, however, look up until they heard
an overload, piping voice saying with disgust, “Aw, come on, Casey! Let’s go
play! All those two want to do is kiss!”

David and Eleanor both laughed. “Get
used to it, son!” David called. “It’s going to be happening a lot.”

Philip came back and gave his parents a
long, level look. “But you still love me, huh?”

Eleanor snatched him into an embrace. “I
love you, all right! I absolutely adore you.” She dotted his face with kisses
until he giggled helplessly, then passed him over to his father.

David took the squirming little boy onto
his lap, cuddled him close and said, “I love you just as much as your mom does.
I always have. I always will.” He kissed Philip’s cheeks, ruffled his hair, and
squeezed him tight. “And now, I’m waiting. I haven’t heard it yet from you.”

For a moment, Philip looked mildly
puzzled, then beamed. “I love you, Dad! I love you more than… more than…”

He seemed at a loss for a comparison.
David helped out. “More than gooey burgers and fries?”

“Yeah, that. I love you as much as I
love Mommy.” His lips pursed for a second. “Mom,” he firmly corrected himself,
then calling his dog, ran outside.

David drew Eleanor close again. “Do you
want another one small enough to call you Mommy?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “I think I want
at least three more.”

“What? All at once, like Kathy and Bill?
I better get busy building cradles.”

Eleanor kissed him. “One at a time, my
love. One at a time.”

He grinned and glanced at the open
bedroom door. “That lock still work?”

It did.

The End

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This story has been rewritten and
adapted by the author. The earlier version, entitled “The Other Side of the
Hill”, was originally published in the U.K. by Robert Hale, Ltd.

Judy Griffith Gill has been writing for
most of her adult life. She and her husband divide their time between their
home on the Caribbean shore of Costa Rica, and the small cabin-cruiser they
keep as a live-aboard in British Columbia. When in BC, they spend a great deal
of time anchored in or traveling between quiet coves and inlets. They have two
beautiful, grown daughters, two handsome sons-in-law, and three grandchildren.