“How awful. What happened?” It reminded her of Mimi again. It was so unfair when young people died before they even had a chance to live. They would never marry, have babies, get old, be grandmothers, or experience all the good and bad things that happened to everyone else.
“She killed herself,” Finn said with an agonized expression. “It was my fault. We had a terrible argument. It was stupid really. I was jealous. I accused her of sleeping with my best friend, and I told her I’d never see her again. She swore that nothing had happened, and I didn’t believe her. Afterward he admitted that they’d gotten together so he could help her pick out a birthday gift for me. He said later that she was crazy in love with me, and I was equally insane about her. But I was so angry when I thought she’d betrayed me, that I told her it was over, and walked out. She begged me not to, and I didn’t find out until after, from her sister, that she was pregnant. She was kind of high strung, and very sensitive. She was going to tell me after my birthday, but she was afraid of how I’d react. And to be honest, I’m not sure how I would have taken that piece of news then. She wanted to get married anyway, and I don’t know what I’d have done. In any case, we had an awful fight, I left her and told her I’d never see her again because I thought she’d cheated on me. I went back to her house four hours later to apologize. Her parents were out of town, and I rang the bell forever. She never answered, so I went home. Her sister called me the next day. She had slit her wrists, and they found her. She had left a letter for me. Her sister told me about the baby then. It was an awful time. I think it’s why I married Michael’s mother when she told me she was pregnant, even though I wasn’t in love with her. I didn’t want anything like that happening again. I’ve lived with it on my conscience ever since.” As he said it, Hope reached out and touched him, and picked up the photograph again. It was hard to believe that that beautiful young girl had died only days later. It was an awful story, and admittedly, he hadn’t behaved responsibly, but he was young. And people did stupid things at any age, not understanding the desperation of others, or how deep their fears or emotions ran.
“Her sister said that their father would have killed her for being pregnant, particularly if I didn’t marry her,” Finn went on. “He was a nasty piece of work, an alcoholic and very abusive to both girls. Her mother was dead. So she had no one to turn to, or to count on, except me. And I let her down. She thought I’d ended it for good, since I had convinced her of it. So she died.” He looked deeply remorseful as he said it, and clearly had been for all of his adult life since.
“I’m so sorry,” Hope said softly.
“Her sister died in a freak boating accident not long after. I went out with her for a while, because she reminded me so much of Audra. But it made us both feel worse. It was a very unhappy time in my life,” he said with a sigh, and put the photographs away. He had been painfully honest about it. “It’s a hell of a thing to have on your conscience. I don’t know why I was such an asshole to her. Young, I guess, and stupid and full of myself, but that’s no excuse. I didn’t really intend to end it with her, I was just pissed and wanted to teach her a lesson for flirting with my friend. Instead she taught me a lesson I never forgot and never will.” As he said it, Hope couldn’t help remembering the instances when he’d be jealous with her, asking her questions about the subjects of her photo shoots, her ex-husband, her agent, the waiter at the restaurant on Cape Cod, and the two men in the pub in Blessington. He was still jealous, but these days he had it in better control. And he had no reason to be jealous with Hope. And apparently he hadn’t with Audra either. The story was awful, and Hope felt deeply sorry for him. She could see in his eyes how guilty he still felt about it all these years later.
“Maybe she had emotional problems you didn’t know about,” Hope said, trying to comfort him. “Normal people don’t do things like that. They don’t kill themselves, no matter how desperate they feel.” She couldn’t imagine Mimi doing something like that, or herself at that age. But whatever the reason, the girl in the photograph was dead.
“Sometimes young girls do,” Finn said, “or even older ones. I was never totally convinced that Michael’s mother didn’t do the same thing. She was drunk, and our life was a mess. She knew I didn’t love her, and I don’t think she loved me either. She was a very unhappy woman. We were trapped in a loveless marriage, and we hated each other. I didn’t want to divorce her, for Michael’s sake, but I should have. It’s all such a waste sometimes,” he said bleakly, and then smiled at her. And for a totally insane instant, Hope had the odd feeling that despite his sense of guilt, he was flattered by the notion that these women had died for him. The thought gave her a chill. And then as though to confirm it, he looked at her strangely and asked her an odd question. “Would you ever kill yourself, Hope?” Slowly, she shook her head, but was honest with him.
“I thought about it when Mimi died. More than once. And when Paul left me. But I couldn’t do it. No matter how terrible I felt and how hopeless, I couldn’t conceive of doing something like that. I went to India and tried to heal instead. That made more sense.” But she was an essentially healthy person, with a firm footing in life, and she had been considerably older, in her early forties at the time. These were very young women, and girls that age tended to be more dramatic and more extreme and intense, although she couldn’t imagine Mimi doing it either, for a broken romance, or any other reason. These were obviously troubled girls in desperate situations, one pregnant out of wedlock with an alcoholic father to face and a boyfriend she thought had left her, and the other trapped in a loveless marriage with a child she didn’t want and a husband Finn said she hated. It was upsetting to think about. And Finn was quiet as he walked out of the room, and went back upstairs to his office to work on the book.
Hope put the photographs back in the drawer, and decided not to restore the desk. She went for a walk alone after that, and thought about Finn. He had had turmoil and upset with the women in his life, and the death of a young girl on his conscience for more than twenty years. It was a lot to live with. And she thought his question to her had been odd. Maybe he just wanted to reassure himself that no matter what happened, he would never have to face something like that again. And with Hope there was no risk. Suicide was not an option for her. If her daughter’s death hadn’t destroyed her, she knew that nothing would. She dreaded losing Paul, when that happened, and she knew she would one day. She hoped for him, and for her, that that wouldn’t happen for a long, long time.
As she walked along, it was sad thinking about death, instead of birth, and then she thought of the baby, taking hold inside her. The child she and Finn had conceived was an affirmation of life and hope, and an antidote to all the tragedies that had happened to them both. She saw now, more than ever, what a wonderful thing it was, and realized that that was what Finn had been doing, clinging to life to overcome the shadows of death that had trailed him for years. It was a touching thought and made her love him more than ever. She thought about Audra then, and even not knowing her, silently mourned her loss. Hope was touched by Finn’s honesty in admitting his part in the tragedy. He had made no effort to hide or deny it, which was honorable of him. And Hope felt guilty for her momentary thought that he was somehow flattered that she had loved him enough to commit suicide over him. Hope was sure that wasn’t true, and was sorry she had even thought it. It had been a sick thought, but for an instant something in his eyes, and his question to her after that, had made her think it. She was glad she hadn’t said it to him. He would have been justifiably wounded that she would suspect him of such a thing.