“What became of Henry Patterson?”
“He married twice and divorced twice and grew red-faced and as fat as a toad. I haven’t seen him in years.”
Phaedra laughed, feeling a little better. “Life is wonderful, isn’t it? So many different chapters, like lives in themselves.”
“Look at this!” Antoinette exclaimed. “Talking about chapters. This is a chapter I knew nothing about. Wasn’t George a dark horse?!” She studied a photograph closely, a deep frown lining her brow.
She handed Phaedra a pile of photographs of George standing by what looked like ruined forts and castles in the desert. He was grinning raffishly, clearly playing the fool. “They look recent, don’t they? I mean, this must have been taken in the last year. Where do you think he was?”
Phaedra looked carefully at each one. For a while she said nothing. Antoinette noticed her blanch, and her own eyes welled again with tears. It was the first photograph of George they had come across, and he looked so happy, with everything to live for. Antoinette was grateful for her stepdaughter’s company. It made it easier having someone with whom to share her grief. “They’re old Crusader castles,” said Phaedra at last. “Probably in Syria or Jordan.”
Antoinette was impressed. “How on earth do you know about Crusader castles?”
“I love ruins, though Irish ones are my favorites. Probably because we don’t have much history in Canada.” She leafed through them with haste, and Antoinette wondered whether she found it too painful to take her time. After she’d gone through them once, she looked at them again, this time more slowly. The color returned to her cheeks, and her hands stopped trembling. “They’re breathtaking, aren’t they? To think people lived in these nine hundred years ago. I think this one is Shobak in Jordan.” She handed them back to Antoinette. “Shobak is famous and incredibly beautiful.”
“Why don’t you keep one or two?”
“May I?”
“Of course. I have so many. It’s strange, but sometimes I think that George had a whole other life besides the one we shared. He never even told me he went to Jordan. Do you think that’s odd?” She shrugged. “I mean, you think you know someone.”
“I don’t think we ever really know anyone,” Phaedra replied. “I’m not sure we even know ourselves.”
“I understood that he needed time on his own, you see,” Antoinette continued.
“You don’t think he ever got lonely?”
“No, he made friends wherever he went, and he was a bit of a lone wolf. He needed his time by himself.”
“You never felt marginalized?”
“Not at all. I was so busy down here and in London. Frankly, he was so demanding, I needed the rest.” But her face crumpled into a frown. “Well, perhaps a little marginalized, now you mention it.” She wiped her nose with her handkerchief. “I think sometimes one gets so used to a certain routine that one doesn’t question how one feels about it. George and I were like that. I never questioned the way we lived.”
Phaedra smiled at her kindly. “But you are now.”
“I am now.” She put the photographs in her “to keep” pile. “He kept you secret; it’s made me question his integrity.”
“Oh, Antoinette . . .”
“No, it’s not that I think ill of him, it’s just that I feel less secure about us as a couple. I can confide in you, I know you won’t tell the boys. I’d hate them to feel I’m in any way criticizing their father. I’m not; really I’m not. I just wonder what else he might have kept from me, that’s all, and I ask myself, didn’t he trust me enough to share?”
“He was only trying to protect you . . .”
“Yes, yes, but he knew me better than that. It’s very out of character for him not to confide in me, you see. Perhaps he was hiding you for another reason . . . I don’t know what that was, but I can’t believe it was simply because he was afraid I would disapprove or be hurt. He knew I would have supported him.”
“Had he lived, I’m sure he would have introduced me to you in time,” Phaedra suggested gently.
“Perhaps. He just wasn’t given time.” She dismissed those thoughts and returned to her task. Little by little, they made their way through George’s drawers and cupboards.
* * *
“Phaedra, will you come back soon?” Antoinette asked when they felt they had done enough for one afternoon. “I really need you. There’s still so much to do, and I feel comfortable doing it with you.” Antoinette smiled bashfully. “You really understood George, even though you knew him such a short time.”