Lia should have been prepared for this question; and wasn't. "It's better that you make your own relationship with your father, Marise." She sounded like a self-help book, she thought in disgust.
"Hasn't he asked you?"
"He has a lot of catching up to do … seven years, honeybunch. You don't need me around for that."
Marise's chin, so like her mother's, had a stubborn tilt. "You'd like his house in Cape Cod. There's two kids next door for me to play with … I'm going to ask him to ask you next time."
"You mustn't!" Lia gasped, swallowing a mouthful of chlorinated water.
"He said I could ask him anything I liked."
Cursing Seth inwardly, Lia said weakly, "This is different."
Marise was batting at the water with her fingers; her eyes looked more turquoise than green. She said in a rush, "I wish you and Dad would live together. All the time."
"Oh, Marise … "
"You could get married." Marise's smile was artless. "In the garden. I could be the bridesmaid. There's lots of flowers out now, you wouldn't even have to buy a bouquet."
Lia bit her lip. "Sweetheart, it isn't that simple."
"I don't see why not. Dad's really nice," Marise pleaded, a catch in her voice. "He could live here-he likes it here, he said so."
Lia stared at her daughter, one word overriding all the rest of the words tumbling in her brain. Selfish, she thought. She'd been utterly selfish the past few weeks. Acting as though marrying Seth only affected her.
Marise now had two parents, something she'd always longed for. Why wouldn't she want her parents safely married? Most of her school friends had a mother and a father who lived in the same house, slept in the same bed, came together to parent-teacher interviews. Ordinary. Normal. Of course Marise wanted the same.
Lia said with attempted briskness, "I promise I'll think about everything you've said, sweetie. Now we'd better get out and get dried off. I want to make strawberry jam before supper."
"Okay." Marise gave a gap-toothed grin. "I'll beat you to the end of the pool. Then I can help hull the berries."
By nine o'clock that night Marise was sound asleep in bed, her fingers still red-stained, and Lia was standing in the kitchen gazing at the neat row of jars filled with ruby-red jam. They'd taste wonderful in February, she thought absently. What in heaven's name was she going to do?
Behind her, the phone shrilled. The number that came up was Seth's. With a superstitious shiver Lia picked up the receiver and said hello.
"Lia. How are you?"
Confused. Unhappy. Terrified. "Fine," she said.
"I wondered if I could pick Marise up tomorrow morning? She's been asking to go to the IMAX, and there's a show on tomorrow evening about whales. I could bring her back the next day."
"Sure," Lia said. "Come early, she'll want you to have a tour of the garden."
"See you around ten, then."
She opened her mouth to say she needed to talk to him, but the connection was already cut. Saying a very rude word, Lia slammed the receiver back in its cradle and wiped the sticky spots of jam off the counter. Nancy was on holiday. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she picked up the phone and arranged to have Marise play with Suzy tomorrow morning until about eleven.
That way, she'd be alone with Seth.
But only for an hour.
The traffic was worse than Seth had anticipated, and it was 10:25 before he turned into the long driveway to Meadowland. As always, its serenity tugged at his heart. Lia couldn't have chosen a better place to bring up Marise, he thought, and steeled himself for the inevitable meeting with Lia.
He hated them. He spent every one of them being painstakingly polite to her, when all he really wanted was to kiss her senseless.
He couldn't do that. Not in front of his seven-year-old daughter.
He parked by the front door, ran up the steps, knocked on the screen door and let himself in. "Marise?" he called. "Are you ready?"
Lia walked out into the pool of sunshine on the worn pine floor. "Hello, Seth."
She was wearing yellow shorts and a loose white shirt, her hair in a ponytail; her feet were bare, her toenails painted neon-orange. Her slender legs, delicately tanned, made his head swim. Then his heart gave a nasty jolt in his chest as he noticed how tense she looked. Tense, guarded and unhappy. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Where's Marise?"
"I sent her over to Suzy's for a few minutes. I need to talk to you."
His pulse was now thudding in his ears. "Is she all right?"
"Yes … I've made coffee. Come in the kitchen."
The windows were open, the curtains flapping lazily in the breeze. "What's up, Lia?"
She poured his coffee, indicating the cream and sugar on the counter. "If you still want me to, I'll marry you."
This time, his heart gave an actual lurch in his rib cage. "You'll what?"
"You heard."
She was standing braced against the counter, her arms folded over her chest. Keeping his own distance, Seth said carefully, "What made you change your mind?"
"Marise. She really wants us to get married. She wants a normal life, Seth-two parents under the same roof. It was selfish of me to think only of my own needs, blinding myself to hers."
Seth said, even more carefully, "Are you still in love with me?"
"Of course. It's the forever kind of love and I'm stuck with it."
There was as much emotion in her voice as if she was discussing the grocery list. Feeling the first twinge of anger, Seth said, "If it weren't for Marise, you wouldn't be marrying me."
"You got it."
She was now gazing out the window as though he wasn't even there. Her face, normally so expressive, looked blank. As if she'd gone into hiding, he thought, unease adding itself to anger. "How soon do you want to get married?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on her.
"As soon as possible. There's no reason to procrastinate."
"You sound so cold-blooded," he burst out.
"You're the one who started this farcical idea of marrying me to stop the gossip."
"But now it's segued into giving Marise what she needs." He hesitated, knowing he was on the brink of a momentous decision, wondering if he was making a disastrous mistake. "Why don't we try for two weeks from now? Does that fit your schedule?"
"I'm playing at Carnegie next week. Otherwise I'm free until early August."
He could shift his trip to Australia to later in the month. "Do you want a big wedding?"
"No!" she said, looking hunted. "A small one. Here."
"We have to let the media know. Or else we're defeating the purpose," Seth said sharply.
"Afterward. We'll let them know afterward."
"This is all wrong, Lia-we sound like we're planning a funeral, not a wedding."
She shrank away from him. "I don't know how else to do it."
"When we tell Marise, you could try looking happy at the prospect of marrying me," he said with brutal truth.
But even that didn't rouse her. "I will," she said. "I'll look after my end of it, and you look after yours."
He wanted her fighting him, he realized with a cold thunk in his chest. The old Lia, fiery-tempered, not giving an inch. Eyes glittering, face lit with passion.
That's what he wanted. And that's what he wasn't going to get. He said, sounding like a robot, "We'll sleep together after we're married. That's nonnegotiable."
"Naturally. Marise is quite old enough to know that Suzy's mum and dad sleep in the same room."
So once again he was back to Marise. "I'll see about getting the license."
"I'll ask the minister of our local church to do the ceremony. Do you want a ring?"
"Yes," he said, "I do. What about you?"
"I guess so. It'd look better."
"So this wedding is all about appearances."
"Well, isn't it?"
He said flatly, "I think I hear Marise."
Through the open window he'd heard someone dump a bicycle on the porch. As the screen door slammed shut, he watched Lia gather herself: as though she were about to play in a concert, she was going inward, he thought, connecting to all her resources. Then Marise came running into the kitchen. "Hi, Dad!" she crowed and flung herself at him.
He swung her up and over his head, laughing at her, wondering if he'd ever get over the wonder of her existence. "Hi, there. Ready for the movie?"
"All my clothes are packed, and Robert."