Duma Key(144)

It had not been strictly comfort, but what it had been was something I wasn't prepared to explore with my daughter. Or myself, for that matter.

She slumped a little, then straightened and looked at me, head tilted, the beginnings of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"If you have hopes, that's your business," I said. "But I would advise you not to get them up. I'm always going to care for her, but sometimes people go too far to turn back. I think... I'm pretty sure that's the case with us."

She looked back at the still surface of the pool, the little smile at the corners of her mouth dying away. I hated seeing it go, but maybe it was for the best. "All right, then."

That left me free to move on to other matters. I didn't want to, but I was still her father and she was in many ways still a child. Which meant that, no matter how badly I felt about Elizabeth Eastlake this morning, or how confused I might be about my own situation, I still had certain duties to fulfill.

"Need to ask you something, Illy."

"Okay, sure."

"Are you not wearing the ring because you don't want your mother to see it and go nuclear... which I would fully understand... or because you and Carson-"

"I sent it back," she said in a flat and toneless voice. Then she giggled, and a stone rolled off my heart. "But I sent it UPS, and I insured it."

"So... it's over?"

"Well... never say never." Her feet were in the water and she kicked them slowly back and forth. "Carson doesn't want it to be, so he says. I'm not sure I do, either. At least not without seeing how we do face to face. The phone or e-mail really isn't the way to talk something like this out. Plus, I want to see if the attraction is still there, and if so, how much." She glanced sideways, a little anxiously. "That doesn't gross you out, does it?"

"No, honey."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"How many second chances did you give Mom?"

I smiled. "Over the course of the marriage? I'd say two hundred or so."

"And how many did she give you?"

"About the same."

"Did you ever..." She stopped. "I can't ask you that."

I looked at the pool, aware of a very middle-class flush rising in my cheeks. "Since we're having this discussion at six in the morning and not even the pool boy's here yet, and since I think I know what your problem with Carson Jones is, you can ask. The answer is no. Not even once. But if I'm dead honest, I have to say that was more luck than stone-ass righteousness. There were times when I came close, and once when it was probably only luck or fate or providence that kept it from happening. I don't think the marriage would have ended if the... the accident had happened, I think there are worse offenses against a partner, but they don't call it cheating for nothing. One slip can be excused as human fallibility. Two can be excused as human frailty. After that-" I shrugged.

"He says it was just once." Her voice was little more than a whisper. Her feet had slowed to a dreamy underwater drift. "He said she started coming on to him. And finally... you know."

Sure. It happens that way all the time. In books and movies, anyway. Maybe sometimes in real life, too. Just because it sounded like a self-serving lie didn't mean it was.

"The girl he sings with?"

Ilse nodded. "Bridget Andreisson."

"She of the bad breath."

Faint smile.

"I seem to remember you telling me not too long ago that he'd have to make a choice."

A long silence. Then: "It's complicated."

It always is. Ask any drunk in a bar who's been thrown out by his wife. I kept quiet.

"He told her he doesn't want to see her anymore. And the duets are off. I know that for a fact, because I checked some of the latest reviews on the Internet." She colored faintly at this, although I didn't blame her for checking. I would have checked, too. "When Mr. Fredericks he's the tour director threatened to send him home, Carson told him he could if he wanted to, but he wasn't singing with that holy blond bitch anymore."

"Were those his exact words?"

She smiled brilliantly. "He's a Baptist, Daddy, I'm interpreting. Anyway, Carson stood his ground and Mr. Fredericks relented. For me, that's a mark in his favor."

Yes, I thought, but he's still a cheater who calls himself Smiley.

I took her hand. "What's your next move?"

She sighed. The ponytail made her look eleven; the sigh made her sound forty. "I don't know. I'm at a loss."

"Then let me help you. Will you do that?"

"All right."

"For the time being, stay away from him," I said, and I discovered I wanted that with all my heart. But there was more. When I thought of the Girl and Ship paintings especially the girl in the rowboat I wanted to tell her not to talk to strangers, keep her hairdryer away from the bathtub, and jog only at the college track. Never across Roger Williams Park at dusk.

She was looking at me quizzically, and I managed to get myself in gear again. "Go right back to school-"

"I wanted to talk to you about that-"

I nodded, but squeezed her arm to show her I wasn't quite finished. "Finish your semester. Make your grades. Let Carson finish the tour. Get perspective, then get together... understand what I'm saying?"