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“I do but it’s a much bigger ask. You hired me to travel with you, but I wonder if some of that time on the road could be clawed back. I’d like to stay home more often for a lot of reasons, but one is so that I can work with my testers at regular times.”
When he nodded, I continued.
“Part of the problem is I don’t like using unsecured hotel networks where it’s easy to be hacked. Also, I’ve been approached by my friends at Mission Hall. They want me to do a website and database for them. And I’m happy to help them, but I’ll have to be there in person. The place is run by volunteers who can’t leave the frontline to work on computer programs with me. During the first few months, I will need to be there in person. They aren’t a computer-literate group.”
I uttered a heavy sigh and laid my head on his lap. “In short, I want a stable physical base to work from. Maybe I could travel with you for two weeks, instead of four out of every five? If you didn’t mind.”
Simon stroked my head absently, staring up at the velvet night sky.
When he said nothing, I talked to fill the silence. “I love the way you’ve tried to make my dreams come true. But when I told you the story about wanting an Appaloosa mare as a girl, it never occurred to me that you’d just go and buy me one as an engagement present. Ten-year-old Sadie would have been over the moon with that gift but grown-up Sadie wants different things.”
“Like a home of her own where she can work without interruption for more than one day at a time.”
“That’s it. Yes, exactly like that.”
“Difficult, given my travel schedule.” He shifted in his seat.
I eased myself to my feet, stretched, and looked down at him. “Mom wasn’t entirely wrong when she questioned your carbon footprint. Couldn’t you teleconference more often?”
“You mean stay around town? Maybe the two of us make a meal together, go to concerts, sleep in the same bed more than two nights in a row?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not impossible.” He looked at me and smiled. In the bright moonlight, I saw the child behind the eyes of the mature man. Playfulness and affection shone on his face, so I felt safe to push on with my midnight confession. I had to get this all out now. We couldn’t marry as long as gremlins of secrecy and worry were gnawing at me.
“And I want to keep my apartment. Correction: I am going to keep my apartment for now. Mom and D2 can use it when they come out for our wedding. We can loan it to friends. But I’m not selling it.”
“I agree.” Simon crossed his right foot to his left knee. “I’ve been thinking about that since Wednesday. If it’s important to you to keep it, then it’s important to me as well.”
“Good,” I said, relief flooding through me. “Because when you do things like make a massive donation to the hospital to get D2 looked after, it ratchets up my fear of how much you’ve got invested in me and how much I have to live up to. I can’t help feeling like I’m going to disappoint you, so I need my escape hatch still. For at least a little while.”
I sat down. “You’re so extravagant. I don’t deserve such wild generosity.”
He shrugged. “I spend my life accumulating wealth, but the only time money has value is when it’s exchanged for services or goods. I’ve been enjoying its value more now that I have someone to spend it on.” He leaned forward and picked up a plastic container from the table. He opened it and passed it to me. I took one of the big chunks of aged cheddar and a couple of the apple slices that were fanned through it.
I chewed slowly and swallowed “There’s one last family secret you need to know about me.”
Simon tilted his head.
Ever since Ronnie had ingratiated herself with Mom and my godmother, Cherie, I knew I’d have to tell Simon the truth sooner rather than later. Cherie was garrulous when sober. After a few glasses of wine, she was likely to tell anybody anything. If she told Ronnie, Ronnie might feel she had to share the old secret with Simon. Her contract was with him, not me.
This was it then. All confessions out, all cards on the table. The thin mountain air seemed heavy all of a sudden, hard to breathe. “I’ve kept this secret more for D2 and Mom’s sake than mine.”
“Go on,” his voice was neutral, his face turned away.
“Mom is my sister. D2 is my father.” I didn’t like opening this part of my family history but Simon deserved the truth, as complicated as it was.
“Really?” He folded his hands together in his lap and stared down at the view.
“D2’s only wife—my grandmother—died before I was born. In fact, if she hadn’t died, I would never have been born. My real mother was Francine Sauveterre, a friend of Mom’s who had a terrible crush on D2 all through her teens. After my grandmother passed, Francine and D2 had an affair. When she got pregnant, my maternal grandparents disowned her.”
I didn’t look at Simon as I spoke. “My maternal grandparents were old school Catholics. It was bad enough that Francine was pregnant out of wedlock, by a man old enough to be her father. It was worse still that he was a Protestant. Francine moved out of home and was studying to be an accountant when she was killed in a car crash driving home from night school. I was two months old.”
I sighed and hugged myself to stop myself from shaking. “From what I’ve been able to put together over the years, after talking to my uncle, Jacques, and his sisters Céline and Colette, Francine didn’t want D2 to marry her because she was pregnant. She knew that she was his rebound love and wanted to wait it out to see if it lasted. After she was killed, D2 was scared by the idea of raising a child by himself. Jacques and his sisters were all still in high school and were forbidden to have anything to do with me or my family. Apparently, Mom—I mean Cynthia my sister—was the only one determined not to see me surrendered for adoption.”
I helped myself to more cheese and apple and took a few small bites. “Other than that one conversation when I was twelve, no one in my family talks about this. Ever. When I left home for university and first started using search engines, I found Jacques’ address in Miami and wrote him. I thought he owed me an explanation after letting me call him Dad all those years. He told me more about Francine and D2, and got Céline to send me photos. They were pictures of a stranger and I kind of lost interest in my biological mother. Knowing the facts didn’t change what was in my heart. D2 and Mom were my real family, no matter what anyone said.”
I squished a half-eaten slice of apple in my hand and licked the juice off my fingers. “Short story: Mom may not be my biological mother, but she did everything a real mother would have and more.”
