Chapter 4

Back home, shoes were quickly doffed, formal attire shed, and chairs and sofas gained with an audible thanks. We all agreed it had been a wonderful day, and I took pains to point out that a very large portion of that was solely due to Naomi’s efforts.

“I don’t know how I can thank you, Naomi,” I said. “You have been the anchor for this whole venture. It would not have been possible without you, and the love you poured into our children. It shone through everything you suggested and did, right from the get-go, and I am totally in debt to you. We are a renewed family because of you.”

“Let’s get this straight, Gerald. I did this as much for myself as for you and Sylvia. For too many years after my marriage break-up, I was a lost person, hanging on by a thread for Gareth’s sake. It was only with mum and dad’s support that I made it through. When Gareth took an interest in Sylvia, it was like a tiny bulb flickered dimly. As their relationship grew, that bulb grew brighter and brighter, to the point it’s reached today.”

Then quietly: “I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that our children have rescued both of us.”

There was silence for a moment, then Sylvia’s mum and dad crossed the room, and drew their daughter in a loving embrace. They didn’t have to say anything – their faces and body language said it all.

There was companionable silence for a while. The events of the day seemed almost too large to talk about, and none of us appeared inclined to break the peace that had settled over the room. Eventually Jacqueline nudged her husband. “We need an early night after all this excitement, but we’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow honey, and then we can see what we can make of the remainder of our visit.” With hugs all round, they left, with me sitting wondering what to do now. Should I leave, too? It seemed the sensible thing to do. The wedding was over. Gareth and Sylvia had begun their new life together. Was my part in the story finished?

I was still trying to decide when Naomi quietly settled the matter for me. Without a word she crossed the room and sat beside me on the sofa. Gently she took my arm and placed it around her shoulders before nestling comfortably against me. For once it felt entirely natural.

“It’s been a day of decisions,” she said softly.

“It certainly has.”

“And there’s couple more that need to be made.”

I shook my head in puzzlement. What decisions?

She was silent for a few moments, almost as though deciding how best to begin.

“Gerald, we had an unfinished conversation a couple of weeks ago. We talked about deep layers. This may be painful, but there’s a layer you need to unearth.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“I think you do. You just don’t want to acknowledge it, and it’s blocking something very important.”

She was quiet for a moment, then continued. “Go with me on this. When Lori died, you died inside too. You thought you grieved, but you didn’t really. Because Sylvia was in danger of going off the rails in her grief, you pushed yours down in order to be able to support her. You were desperate not to lose her too.”

There was silence for a time.

“I may be completely wrong,” she continued at last. “If I am, tell me so. But I don’t think I am.”

I waited.

“When Lori died...” Hearing her name spoken aloud caught me unexpectedly. “ ... I think something inside you died as well.”

I instinctively opened my mouth to disagree. She squeezed my hand. “Please let me finish.”

There was such kindness in her voice that I found myself nodding.

“I don’t think you allowed yourself to grieve properly. You thought you grieved, but you didn’t really.”

I looked away. “Because Sylvia needed me.”

“Exactly.”

Her answer came so quietly that it almost broke my heart.

“You knew she was in danger of disappearing into her own grief. You were terrified of losing her as well.”

I swallowed. Images I hadn’t expected came crowding back. Long nights. Closed bedroom doors. The frightened look in Sylvia’s eyes. Her refusal to eat. The phone calls from school. The endless uncertainty.

“She and I have had some long talks, which is how I know this. In all these years since Lori’s death you have been a wonderful father.”

I shook my head. “I made plenty of mistakes.”

“We all do.” She smiled faintly. “But you never stopped loving her.”

I felt my throat tighten.

“She and I have talked about those years,” Naomi said. “She knows now how frightened you were. She also knows that every decision you made came from love.”