She slept most of the way to Dublin, and it was early morning when she got there. Finn was waiting for her with the broad slow smile she knew so well and loved so much. The moment she saw him, she knew that all was well in their world. He drove her home to Blaxton House, and ten minutes after they got there, they were in bed. He was more passionate toward her than ever, and more loving. They stayed in bed, whispering and talking and making love till noon, and then he took her downstairs to see how beautiful the house looked now that it had been painted. She was pouring a fortune into it, and they both agreed that it was worth it.
It felt wonderful being back there again, and she felt like the mistress of the manor. Michael was coming to visit them in a few days. And she was happy to have some time alone with Finn before that. She was beginning to think that he was right, and being alone was better. Every moment they shared was loving and romantic. It was impossible to complain about that. And by the end of the afternoon, after surveying their domain with pleasure, they walked back up the stairs hand in hand and went back to bed.
Chapter 14
When Michael arrived, Finn went to pick him up at the airport, and Hope decided to wait at the house. She didn’t want to intrude on them, they had so little time together. And she was happy to have him there. She had arranged one of the newly painted guest rooms for Michael, with an enormous bowl of yellow flowers. She’d bought some magazines in town for him, and tried to think of everything he might like. She knew how much he and Finn loved each other, after their years alone while Michael was growing up, and she was looking forward to getting to know him better. Finn was taking him to fish at the Blessington Lakes for a few days, he had made arrangements for hang gliding, and was planning to rent some horses. He wanted him to have a good time, and Hope was willing to do anything possible to help them, even if that meant keeping out of their way, but Finn had told her not to worry about it.
And this time, they were going to tell Michael about their wedding plans in December. Since it had turned out to be a winter wedding after all, Hope had agreed that it might be better in Ireland, although she also liked the idea of getting married in London, to make it easier for people like Mark to come. Finn loved the idea of doing it at the tiny church in Russborough, with a reception at the house, and said he didn’t care if they did it all alone. Finn wasn’t sure if Michael would come from Boston, and said it didn’t matter to him. The only one important to him at the wedding was Hope. He didn’t need a single other soul to be there. This was a far cry from the highly social animal she had believed him to be when they met. In reality, Finn was nearly a hermit. And the only person he wanted to be with was her. He said it was a sign of the immensity of his love for her, and she believed him. The ultimate tribute of Finn’s love was that he wanted to devote every waking moment to her.
When Michael arrived from the airport with his father, he gave Hope a friendly hug, and commented on the changes in the house. He was enormously impressed.
“What happened? Did you win the lottery, Dad?” Michael teased him. There was always a faint edge to their exchanges and Michael’s comments, but they were harmless. They were the kind of things said between men, one growing into power and manhood, the other trying to hold on to it for dear life. And as Hope watched them, she wondered if that was why Finn was so desperate to have a baby. It was a way of hanging on to his virility and his youth, and proving to himself and the world that he was young. Hope thought that there were other ways to prove it.
She showed Michael around, through all the changes and restorations they’d done. The painting that had been done over the summer was a vast improvement over the dingy walls. She had finally gotten rid of the rugs and had the beautiful old floors redone. It looked like the same house, but so much better, and Michael complimented her politely on everything he saw.
The two men left for the lake the next day, and were gone for three days. After that, Michael wanted his father to go to London with him for two days, and Hope stayed home to work. She didn’t really get the chance to spend time with Michael until the day before he left. He had to get back to MIT for the beginning of his junior year, and Finn was in the village buying the newspaper when she sat down to breakfast with Michael. Katherine had made them both eggs, sausages, and tea, and Michael seemed to like it. He was quiet at first as they both ate their breakfast. Finn had told her that he hadn’t mentioned their upcoming marriage yet, and she didn’t want to be the one to do it. It wasn’t her place. It was up to Finn, and she wondered when he was going to tell him. His son was leaving the next day.
“Your father misses you terribly,” she said to open a conversation with him. “After all those years of living together, it must be a big change for you too, to be away from him.” Michael looked up from his sausages and stared at her blankly, but didn’t comment. “I’m sure all those years alone with each other made you very close.” It was a little awkward talking to him, and Michael was pleasant and polite with her, but not really chatty. She wondered if mother figures made him uncomfortable, since he hadn’t had one, which made her sad for him. “Your father has told me how much fun it was when you two lived in London and New York.” She was struggling for conversation, as Michael sat back in his chair and looked Hope in the eye.
He summed it up in one sentence for her. “I didn’t grow up with my father.” He didn’t sound angry when he said it, or disappointed. He said it as simple fact, and Hope was stunned.
“You didn’t? I… he told me… I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood.” She felt as though she sounded like a moron, and she did. Michael looked unconcerned.
“My father says a lot of things that sound good to him at the time, or make him look good. He rewrites history, like in his books. He gets confused between fact and fiction. It’s just the way he is,” he said without condemnation, but it was an incredibly damning statement about Finn, and Hope didn’t know what to say in response, nor what to think.
“I’m sure I’m the one who’s confused,” she said, backing down in a panic. But they both knew she was covering up the awkward moment and making excuses for Finn.
“No, you’re not,” Michael said, as he finished his sausage. “I grew up with my grandparents in California. I hardly ever saw my father until I went to college.” That was only two years before, and that meant that their years together in London and New York were a lie, or a fabrication, or wishful thinking, or something. She didn’t understand, and tried not to let Michael see how upset she was. “I know my father cares about me, and he wants to make it up to me now, but we’ve been strangers for most of my life, and in some ways we still are.”
“I’m sorry,” Hope said, looking devastated. “I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.” She felt terrible, but the boy across the table from her didn’t even look upset. He was used to Finn with all his quirks, and apparently telling stories was one of them, according to his son.
“That’s why he’s such a good writer. I think he actually believes the stuff he says, once he says it. From that moment on, it’s true for him. It’s just not true for anyone else.” He was amazingly understanding about it, and Hope couldn’t help thinking that his grandparents had done a good job with him. He was a healthy, whole, sane, well-balanced young man, not because of Finn, as it turned out, but in spite of him.
“I assume these were your mother’s parents?” She decided to check that out, and he nodded. “Your mother died?”
“When I was seven,” he confirmed, fairly unemotionally, which surprised her. At least that much was true, but the rest of his childhood was a fantasy of Finn’s. And then she thought of something.