“I know.” Tessa glanced down at her lap, resisting the urge to squirm at this unpleasant topic. “There were always men over the years. We’d live with one of them for a time, until Mom decided he was getting too possessive or bossy or he made her uncomfortable. We did a lot of sneaking out of apartments in the middle of the night over the years. And then of course there were simply the men she brought into whatever room or apartment we happened to be living in at the time. Fortunately, she didn’t do that very often.”
Ian frowned, sliding his hand over her tightly clenched ones. “You never shared that part of the story with me, Tessa. Were you - please don’t tell me that these men ever harassed you, or made you feel uncomfortable.”
“No. Nothing like that.” She was quick to reassure him, knowing all too well how fierce he could be when he went into protector mode. “By the time I started, well, maturing, Mom was really starting to slip more and more into the depressive episodes. I was also old enough - in theory, at least - for her to leave me alone at night while she went out places. But, enough of that. Glen, please continue with your story.”
“Not much more to tell, really, just more of the same. Gillian would continue to flit in and out of town without warning. She’d disappear with you for three or four months, then ring my doorbell one night out of the blue. I’d give her a little money, make sure both of you had new clothes, insist that she at least take you to the doctor for routine check-ups. And each time she’d pop up, you would be a little older, a little bigger, while your mother was a little less stable. A couple of times she’d agree to go back on her meds, and I’d keep my fingers crossed that maybe this time it would last. But it never did, of course.
“She continued to write - or what passed for writing by then. If the fourth book was difficult to edit, then everything she wrote after that was unsalvageable. Most of it utter nonsense, like it was written by someone in the middle of a bad LSD trip or something. I managed to edit a couple of short stories into some semblance of coherency, enough to get them published in a literary journal. But it was like the fire inside of her was gradually starting to go out, and when she was manic she wasn’t lucid at all. I - I asked her to marry me then, to let me adopt Tessa. I knew she didn’t love me, or even think of me that way. For all the times she’d lived in my house, we had never come close to being intimate. But I was afraid by then for Tessa’s wellbeing, couldn’t even think about Gillian trying to raise a small child on her own in the condition she was in.”
Tears were welling in Tessa’s eyes now, and she reached over to squeeze the hand of this kindly man whom she’d never even heard about until today, but who had evidently gone out of his way to look out for her when she’d been a little girl. “I can just imagine her reaction to that,” she sympathized. “The very image of my mother settling down anywhere, being someone’s wife - it’s unfathomable.”
Glen smiled ruefully. “That’s more or less what she said when I asked her. But when I kept pushing, even threatening once or twice to hire a lawyer and try to get custody of you myself - well, that’s when she bolted for good. It was months before I heard from her again, a letter this time from Santa Fe. She said she’d finally found her spiritual home, that this was the place she’d been searching for all her life, and that she’d never return to New York. She insisted that you were fine and happy, enclosed a couple of photos of the two of you. But when I wrote her back, the letters were returned as undeliverable. After that, I’d get a postcard once in awhile until even those stopped, and I lost track of the two of you completely.
“Oh, I suppose I could have hired a private detective to track you down, but I didn’t see much point in it. Gillian couldn’t be trusted, refused to stay on her meds or get therapy, and seemed intent on destroying herself one way or another. I regretted it over the years, of course, not looking harder for the two of you, but mostly because of you, Tessa. I should have hardened my heart, and followed through with my threats to take you away from her. You would have had a much better life, a happier one, and certainly a more stable one. But in the end, I doubt I’d have been able to do it. Because despite all of her faults and problems, the one thing Gillian truly cared about was you. And it would have broken her heart, would have probably killed her, if someone had taken you away. You were the one thing that gave her hope, Tessa, that kept her going. Otherwise, I think she would have tried to kill herself a long time before she actually died, would have given up completely.”
The tears were spilling freely from her eyes now, and Ian slid an arm around her shoulders in silent comfort. “I never knew any of this,” she whispered brokenly. “Mom never even mentioned that we’d lived in New York off and on for several years. How could I not remember any of this – not remember you?”
Glen patted her arm reassuringly. “Because you were an infant or toddler most of the times you stayed with me, dear. And you weren’t even four years old the last time I saw you. It’s hardly surprising that you didn’t remember any of those visits. But I did remember you, and thought of you often over the years. And I’m so pleased to see what a beautiful young woman you’ve grown into. Beautiful, happy, and engaged to a man who obviously adores you. Would you be related to the Gregson hotel family, Ian?”
“I am the Gregson hotel family, Glen,” answered Ian. “So you can be assured that Tessa will never want for anything. I vow to take very, very good care of her.”
Glen looked over Tessa’s designer dress, shoes, and bag, her jewelry, the way her hair, makeup, and nails were all perfectly done. “I would say that you’ve already done just that, Ian,” he observed. “Though the fact that she’s glowing with happiness is the most important thing you could have possibly given her. And I assume you haven’t, er, exhibited any symptoms - I mean, the research I did on bipolar disorder all those years ago mentioned something about it being hereditary.”
“I’m fine,” Tessa assured him. “I’ve been tested, been evaluated by a renowned psychiatrist in the field.”
“Good, good.” Glen looked relieved. He glanced at the antique clock that hung on one wall, and seemed startled. “Is it that time already? I didn’t realize we’d been visiting quite that long. I’m afraid we’ll need to continue our chat another time, as I do need to leave in a few minutes to meet my wife and our friends. Let’s exchange contact information, shall we, and then I’ll get those photos I promised you.”
Ian frowned, sliding his hand over her tightly clenched ones. “You never shared that part of the story with me, Tessa. Were you - please don’t tell me that these men ever harassed you, or made you feel uncomfortable.”
“No. Nothing like that.” She was quick to reassure him, knowing all too well how fierce he could be when he went into protector mode. “By the time I started, well, maturing, Mom was really starting to slip more and more into the depressive episodes. I was also old enough - in theory, at least - for her to leave me alone at night while she went out places. But, enough of that. Glen, please continue with your story.”
“Not much more to tell, really, just more of the same. Gillian would continue to flit in and out of town without warning. She’d disappear with you for three or four months, then ring my doorbell one night out of the blue. I’d give her a little money, make sure both of you had new clothes, insist that she at least take you to the doctor for routine check-ups. And each time she’d pop up, you would be a little older, a little bigger, while your mother was a little less stable. A couple of times she’d agree to go back on her meds, and I’d keep my fingers crossed that maybe this time it would last. But it never did, of course.
“She continued to write - or what passed for writing by then. If the fourth book was difficult to edit, then everything she wrote after that was unsalvageable. Most of it utter nonsense, like it was written by someone in the middle of a bad LSD trip or something. I managed to edit a couple of short stories into some semblance of coherency, enough to get them published in a literary journal. But it was like the fire inside of her was gradually starting to go out, and when she was manic she wasn’t lucid at all. I - I asked her to marry me then, to let me adopt Tessa. I knew she didn’t love me, or even think of me that way. For all the times she’d lived in my house, we had never come close to being intimate. But I was afraid by then for Tessa’s wellbeing, couldn’t even think about Gillian trying to raise a small child on her own in the condition she was in.”
Tears were welling in Tessa’s eyes now, and she reached over to squeeze the hand of this kindly man whom she’d never even heard about until today, but who had evidently gone out of his way to look out for her when she’d been a little girl. “I can just imagine her reaction to that,” she sympathized. “The very image of my mother settling down anywhere, being someone’s wife - it’s unfathomable.”
Glen smiled ruefully. “That’s more or less what she said when I asked her. But when I kept pushing, even threatening once or twice to hire a lawyer and try to get custody of you myself - well, that’s when she bolted for good. It was months before I heard from her again, a letter this time from Santa Fe. She said she’d finally found her spiritual home, that this was the place she’d been searching for all her life, and that she’d never return to New York. She insisted that you were fine and happy, enclosed a couple of photos of the two of you. But when I wrote her back, the letters were returned as undeliverable. After that, I’d get a postcard once in awhile until even those stopped, and I lost track of the two of you completely.
“Oh, I suppose I could have hired a private detective to track you down, but I didn’t see much point in it. Gillian couldn’t be trusted, refused to stay on her meds or get therapy, and seemed intent on destroying herself one way or another. I regretted it over the years, of course, not looking harder for the two of you, but mostly because of you, Tessa. I should have hardened my heart, and followed through with my threats to take you away from her. You would have had a much better life, a happier one, and certainly a more stable one. But in the end, I doubt I’d have been able to do it. Because despite all of her faults and problems, the one thing Gillian truly cared about was you. And it would have broken her heart, would have probably killed her, if someone had taken you away. You were the one thing that gave her hope, Tessa, that kept her going. Otherwise, I think she would have tried to kill herself a long time before she actually died, would have given up completely.”
The tears were spilling freely from her eyes now, and Ian slid an arm around her shoulders in silent comfort. “I never knew any of this,” she whispered brokenly. “Mom never even mentioned that we’d lived in New York off and on for several years. How could I not remember any of this – not remember you?”
Glen patted her arm reassuringly. “Because you were an infant or toddler most of the times you stayed with me, dear. And you weren’t even four years old the last time I saw you. It’s hardly surprising that you didn’t remember any of those visits. But I did remember you, and thought of you often over the years. And I’m so pleased to see what a beautiful young woman you’ve grown into. Beautiful, happy, and engaged to a man who obviously adores you. Would you be related to the Gregson hotel family, Ian?”
“I am the Gregson hotel family, Glen,” answered Ian. “So you can be assured that Tessa will never want for anything. I vow to take very, very good care of her.”
Glen looked over Tessa’s designer dress, shoes, and bag, her jewelry, the way her hair, makeup, and nails were all perfectly done. “I would say that you’ve already done just that, Ian,” he observed. “Though the fact that she’s glowing with happiness is the most important thing you could have possibly given her. And I assume you haven’t, er, exhibited any symptoms - I mean, the research I did on bipolar disorder all those years ago mentioned something about it being hereditary.”
“I’m fine,” Tessa assured him. “I’ve been tested, been evaluated by a renowned psychiatrist in the field.”
“Good, good.” Glen looked relieved. He glanced at the antique clock that hung on one wall, and seemed startled. “Is it that time already? I didn’t realize we’d been visiting quite that long. I’m afraid we’ll need to continue our chat another time, as I do need to leave in a few minutes to meet my wife and our friends. Let’s exchange contact information, shall we, and then I’ll get those photos I promised you.”
