Daddy

She opened the letter slowly, as though peeling away a shell, as though breaking open her life … but she didn't let herself think that. She sat down slowly in her chair, never seeing Agnes watching her, with a puzzled look in her eyes as Sarah read … slowly … painfully … and then felt her breath catch in amazement. It couldn't be. It was wrong. She had read it wrong. It had to be. But it wasn't. The words were there. My God … the words were there … and suddenly she felt her body fill, as though with light and music. She didn't feel empty anymore. It was as though there was something inside her now. Better than a baby. It was herself … She was there. She was back again. And she read the line again, and again, and again.

… “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for the master's program at Harvard University” … pleased to inform you … pleased to inform you … the words blurred as the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. It was a dream, only a dream. There was no way she could do it. She couldn't leave them. Couldn't go back to school. And yet she had applied months before, in September, when the children went back to school and she was bored and lonely. Just to try it … just to see if … and now they were telling her they wanted her. But she couldn't. But as she looked up she saw the snow still falling outside, the dog still barking and cavorting and Agnes watching her from the doorway. She knew she had to. They'd understand. They'd have to understand … it wouldn't be for very long … and then she would be a person again. A person of her own. She would be real … She would be Sarah.

Chapter 2

“Bad news in that letter, Mrs. Watson?” Agnes bad seen Sarah's face go pale as she watched her, and then she had seen tears glistening on her cheeks as Sarah stared out the window. There was no way that Agnes could understand all that she was feeling now. The excitement … the disbelief … the hope … and the terror. She had left her alone in the den with her own thoughts, and it was a full hour before Sarah walked into the kitchen.

“No … no … just a surprise …”Sarah looked vague, almost shell-shocked, neither happy nor sad, as she wandered distractedly around the kitchen, straightening things out without seeing them, pushing a chair into the table, picking a tiny piece of paper off the floor. It was as though she didn't know what to do now. As though she were seeing her home for the first time, or the last. What in hell was she going to do? She couldn't go back to Harvard now. She couldn't possibly leave them. She silently wondered why she had even applied. It was ridiculous, a pipe dream, Ollie would laugh at her … and yet … somehow it wasn't funny now. It was frightening and sad and wonderful, and an opportunity she didn't want to give up, even for them. She had never felt so torn in her life. And she knew she couldn't tell Ollie. Not yet. Maybe after the holidays. Christmas was only two weeks away. She could tell him after that. Maybe they'd go skiing for a few days and she could tell him then. But what in God's name would she tell him? … I want to go back to school, Ol … I'm moving up to Boston for a year or two … I have to get out of here … but tears filled her eyes again, and for a desperate moment, she knew she didn't want to leave them.

Agnes was watching her, not believing what she had said. There had to have been more than a surprise in the letter she'd read. Or if it was, it couldn't have been a good one.

“What time are the kids coming home?” Sarah looked vaguely at the spare little woman bustling around the kitchen, making preparations for dinner. Usually she was grateful for her; suddenly now, Agnes was making her feel useless. Her shining white hair was pulled tightly back in a bun, her face set, lips pursed as she set the kitchen table. The children ate in the kitchen with her whenever she and Oliver went out, and sometimes when Oliver and Sarah were at home, they all ate in the kitchen together. But most of the time when she and Ollie were home, they ate in the dining room. It was something Oliver liked to do, he liked the ceremony of it, the tradition of sitting down together in a civilized way, and talking about what they'd done all day. It was his way of getting away from the pressures of work, and keeping up with what they did, especially the children. But tonight she and Ollie were going out with friends, to a new restaurant in nearby Rye. The phone broke into Sarah's thoughts before Agnes could answer her, and Sarah hurried to answer it. Maybe it was Ollie. She suddenly wanted to be near to him, to hear his voice, to keep him close to her. Suddenly, in a single moment, with the letter she'd just read, everything was changing.