Vanished

“No, I'm sure hell come if we take a trip like that.” She tried to sound lighthearted as she said it. But he, was right, Malcolm was always busy, especially lately.

“Maybe we could meet him in Berlin, if he's too busy to come with us,” Teddy said with a matter-of-fact air. He was so bright. He noticed everything. Even that Malcolm did a lot of business with the Germans. It was why Brigitte was so useful to him, and probably why she had lasted for six years in his office. She was incredibly efficient, as well as nice, and his dealings with Germany seemed to have tripled over the years of their marriage.

“Maybe we could go to London too,” Teddy added out of kindness to Miss Griffin. “And we could see Big Ben, and the Tower of London …and Buckingham Palace …and the King!” He seemed very impressed by everything Miss Griffin had told him and Marielle smiled as they walked along and finally reached the boat pond. But there was a thin layer of ice on it today, and she felt a shiver run through her. Marielle pulled the child close to her, as though something evil waited for them there, and pulled him away from it very quickly.

“There's no one here today. Let's go see the Carousel.” But she was very pale in the chill wind as she said it.

“I wanted to see the boats.” He looked so disappointed.

“There are none.” She was looking frightened, but he was too young to know it. “Come on …let's go;”

“Can we walk on the ice?” he asked, fascinated by the thin crust that lay across most of the boat pond, but she pulled him away even harder. “Never, ever do that, Teddy, do you hear me?” He nodded, startled by the vehemence of her reaction. It was then that she looked across the ice, and thought she saw him. It seemed impossible this time, as though her mind were playing tricks on her again. Maybe she was finally going mad. Maybe coming here today, to the pond, with its thin veil of ice on it, had been too much for her. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though to clear her vision, and then opened them again, very quickly.

“We're going home.” Her voice was a croak of terror as her eyes darted between Teddy and the man she thought she saw across the lake, as though she were still not sure of what she was seeing.

“Now?” Teddy looked as though he might cry. “We just got here. I don't want to go home. Can't we go to the Carousel?”

'I'm sorry …well go for a drive …the zoo …tea …maybe the skaters …” anything to get away from here. As she stood there, her whole body began shaking. But as she tried to lead the child away, the man she had seen ran as fast as he could around the lake, coming toward them. And as he reached her, his black hair was disheveled, his eyes looked wild, and she saw with dismay that she knew she hadn't been mistaken. As Teddy saw the look on his mother's face, he was suddenly frightened. His mother had always instilled in him a vague terror about strangers, and this one looked particularly dreadful. He was tall and disheveled and he seemed to swoop down on them breathlessly, and without warning, he grabbed both of Marielle's shoulders in his hands, looked her in the eye, and then stared down at Teddy. But at least she knew now she wasn't mad. She hadn't dreamed him. It was Charles, and then she remembered how close the boat pond was to the Delauney mansion. He had had a long drunken, sleepless night himself, and had come out for some air to sober up before a meeting with his father's lawyers.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at her, and then at the boy. “And who is that?” There was something of Andre in his face, and yet he was so different. There was something almost angelic about this child's face, it was a face you wanted to kiss, with eyes that made you want to laugh the moment you saw him.

“This is Teddy,” she said quietly, her voice still shaking.

“Teddy who?” He stared at her accusingly, and she suspected instantly that he was not entirely sober. “This is Teddy Patterson.” She straightened her chin and looked Charles in the eye. He couldn't do this to her, couldn't make her feel guilty again, couldn't ruin her life … or could he? …”My son.” Teddy held tightly to her hand wondering who the man was. He thought he looked pretty scary.

“You didn't tell me that yesterday. You only told me about Malcolm.” His eyes bore into hers so hard it was almost painful to meet his gaze, but nonetheless she met it. She was braver than Malcolm thought. But Charles had always known that.

“It didn't seem the time or place to tell you.”

“Why not?” He was accusing her again. He was angry at her. “Why didn't you tell me?” She knew his anger too well. It was the same anger which, nine years before, had almost killed her.

“It seemed unfair to tell you about him yesterday.”