Her heart broke into tiny pieces as she watched walked out, his gait unsteady. He looked so weary and unhappy that she could not stand it. Her mind drifted to the winter afternoon. She remembered it clearly. It had been snowing earlier leaving the grown covered and everything around the manor dazzlingly white.
Harry was always an A student, an exceptionally rounded student. He was athletic and highly intelligent and had alwaysbeen such a curious child. But Richard had broken his will, until there was nothing left.
Her hands trembled so much she had to put her cup down. She had done nothing because she had felt helpless. He had threatened her constantly. He would divorce her and take her son away, so she had stood by while he turned her son into an empty shell.
She thought that after his death, Harry would have gotten better. But therapy had not helped. The only time she had seen him shown one ounce of animation was when he was with Janelle.
She had not approved of the girl at first, but she had been good for him.
Pushing away her cup, she rose, a little unsteadily and went to look out the window. It was approaching winter, and the old manor was becoming drafty. Her son was right. There were too many awful memories there.
Too many shadows lurking around for her to ever be happy. They could not sell the place but giving it as a gift to the city would be appropriate.
There was a very elegant, pied a’ terre, just one of the many buildings they owned, and it would suit her fine. She was going to pack up and leave the place and start afresh. She owed it to herself and to Harry to try and make things right.
Rubbing a hand at the back of her neck, she also figured he was told the truth. Perhaps it would do something to make him fully understand why his father behaved the way he did. Heaving out a sigh, she turned away from the view to go to her office.
*****
“A play?”
“What?” She divided a look between the two men who had marched into her office.
“A play. It is at the local community center and will be performed by the children living in the group home in the downtown area.” David explained with a smile. “We thought it would be just the thing to er…,” he cleared his throat and looked at Michael as if seeking his assistance with an uncomfortable situation.
“Something to get your mind off your problem,” Michael supplied bluntly. “David gives to this charity, and they invited him to come and see what the kiddies are up to.
He mentioned it to me while we were having lunch and I thought to myself – “‘Hmm, that might just be something Jan would be interested in’.” He gave her a look as if challenging her to say no. She was getting better, or at least, she would like to think so.
It had been a couple of days since she had told Harry about the pregnancy, and she had only cried twice. Things were indeed looking up.
Easing back in her chair, she eyed the two men. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. My pride will not take it.”
“We care about you.” David told her gently, moving forward to sit on the edge of her desk facing her. “And we want you to know we’re here for you.”
“Why?” She demanded, staring at him. “You barely know me.”
“What I know, I happen to like.”
“Think about it, darling. The play is this evening at seven. We could leave here and just hop on down. Apparently, they need our support.”
She stared at them again and rubbed her bump unconsciously. “Okay, fine.”
“Great!” Michael clapped his hands. “Now I can go and bully Georges to give me some details on the house he has been trying to unload for the past two weeks. The man is such soft touch and does not know how to go in for the kill.”
He eyed her outfit, noting in approval that the cable knit red sweater did wonders for her caramel complexion. She had braided her hair into one thick plait that was resting on her left breast, and she did not look as if she was on the verge of collapse.
“See you later, David.” Strolling out, he closed the door behind him.
“This is not your problem, you know.” She murmured into the silence Michael had left.
“I happen to like you a lot.” Taking her hand, he clasped it between his. “And you need a friend. I am one. I know you will never be more than a friend and I’m prepared to accept that. I want to be there to support you through all of it, Janelle, please let me.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes, and she found herself wishing that it was a different man sitting here, saying that.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips against it. “I am going to say this and then drop the subject. He is a damn fool.”