Snowfall at Willow Lake. Сьюзен ВиггсЧитать онлайн книгу.
Instead, The Incident and fallout had proved to her that a life lived without family was meaningless.
Judge De Groot was old and unflappable. Unlike Tariq, he was matter-of-fact when Sophie explained about her family. “If you walk away from this opportunity, it won’t be here when you come back. I cannot hold it open for you.”
“I understand that, Your Honor,” Sophie said.
“Your children are your children. They will always be there. This appointment will not. I am certain your family would support a decision to stay and work on behalf of world justice.”
Would they? she wondered. Had she ever given them a choice? “I’m sure that’s true, but I’m moving back to the United States,” she said. There. Spoken aloud, it was simple and direct. She had to go back to her children.
She allowed herself a quick glance at Tariq, who looked as though his head was about to explode. She didn’t let herself veer from a decision made in those moments when the van had hit the water. If she survived this, she would go home to her children. It had been a powerful, clear moment. Her psychiatric intervention team had encouraged her to focus on the present moment, a strategy encouraged to prevent post-trauma symptoms. “Their job was to get me ready to come back to work. But the plan backfired.”
Then she faced the man who had been her mentor for the past year. “What happened at the Peace Palace changed my focus,” she explained. “I thought I knew what I should be doing with my life, but that night forced me to examine my priorities.” Her gaze wandered to De Groot’s display of photos. “I’m ashamed to say it took a brush with death to show me the things that matter most. And with all due respect, it’s not this mission, not in my case, anyway. It’s not prestige. It’s not even saving people from the cruelties of the world. That’s a job, and in my job, I am replaceable. In my life, my family, I’m not. I have a family I don’t see nearly enough of. I have a lot to answer for. I need to do that, starting now.”
The recriminations, when they came, were from Tariq. “You’re mad,” he accused as she bustled around her apartment, filling up pieces of luggage and moving boxes. “You’ve gone utterly bonkers. I’m begging you, Sophie. Don’t throw this away.”
“I’m not. I’m giving it to you. They’ll offer you the position and you’ll be brilliant.”
“This is your prize for the taking,” he insisted. “Your children have grown beyond needing a mum at home all day.” He waved a hand, dismissing her retort before she made it. “I’m only stating the obvious, Petal. Max is half grown, and Daisy has a baby of her own to raise.”
“They need me more than ever,” she insisted. “The fact that they’re older only means I have even less time. And then there’s Charlie. A baby, Tariq. I can’t imagine what I was thinking, not being there for Daisy and Charlie.”
“You were there for the birth, and Daisy will be fine. I’m certain she’s her mother’s daughter. You were a young mum yourself. You coped beautifully.”
Sophie had done nothing of the sort, although she was the only one who seemed to know that. She’d lived her life on the surface, going through the motions of a successful education and career. There was a whole rich world of possibilities beneath that surface, something she hadn’t realized until she’d nearly lost it all.
She taped a label on a plastic shipping box. Her personal possessions took up remarkably little space. The apartment had come furnished, so all she really had was her wardrobe, a few books, framed pictures of her kids. Looking around, she suddenly felt less sure of herself. This was a different sort of fear from being taken hostage. What if she failed? What if it was too late?
She took the portrait down from a shelf and studied their faces. “When Greg and I divorced, I begged them to live here with me,” she said. “I wish we could have made that work.”
“They scarcely gave it a chance,” Tariq reminded her.
She remembered the two miserable weeks, her kids in a high-rise looking out over the Dutch flatlands, where the rain never quite stopped altogether. The sun hadn’t come out, not once. “I saw no reason to prolong the inevitable,” she said. “Nor did I want to sacrifice even more of their happiness so I could have this career. They wanted to go with their father. It was really a no-brainer. On the one hand there was me, rushing off to court in a foreign country. And then there was Greg, who decided to go all Andy-of-Mayberry—”
“Andy of who?”
“One of America’s biggest TV icons. He’s a single dad, actually, on an old classic show. He lives in a small American town and takes his kid fishing and has this idyllic, picture-perfect life in a town where autumn leaves always seem to be falling and it never, ever rains. No wonder Max and Daisy wanted to stay with their dad.” She carefully and methodically folded a sweater, lining up the seams of the sleeves just so.
“What about what you wanted?” Tariq challenged her.
“Right after the divorce, I was so confused I didn’t even know what I wanted. You remember what a mess I was. The divorce made me question everything about myself, especially my parenting. I didn’t exactly have the world’s best role models, you’ll recall. I finally have a clear idea of what I want, and that’s what this is about. I’m giving myself a second chance to do better.” She folded three more sweaters. Where she was going, she would need them.
“But why there? Why that town in the wilderness?”
“My kids are there. I also need to deal with the fact that my ex is living happily ever after with a woman who is my polar opposite.”
He gave a fatalistic shrug. “It happens.”
“You’re a big help.”
“You don’t want my help. You want to go prostrate yourself on an altar of shame and flagellate yourself until you’re bloody. And, by the way, I know a few blokes who would pay to see such a thing.”
“Don’t be obnoxious.” She finished filling a section of her garment bag. “You’re going to get your dream job because I’m leaving,” she told him.
“I’d rather have you,” he said simply, opening his arms.
“You’re not obnoxious,” she said as he closed her into a hug. “You’re the best. You’re the one person I’m going to miss, desperately.”
“I know.”
She pressed her cheek to the soft Scottish cashmere of his sweater. “I’m scared,” she whispered, thinking about what awaited her in Avalon—the failed marriage to Greg and her inadequate mothering.
“I don’t blame you, Petal.” He stroked her hair in a soothing gesture. “I’d be scared of a small town in America, too. I keep thinking about plaid hunting jackets and open-bed lorries on gigantic tires.”
She pulled back, gently slapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
But it might be, she conceded. She was no expert, having always lived in big, bustling cities—Seattle, Boston, Tokyo, New York, The Hague. She had no idea how she would manage in a town like Avalon. But she had to get back to her family. She felt a keen sense of mission about it, the way she used to feel about an important case. She needed to reclaim the things she had lost to her career. She needed to find a new direction for her life.
“I haven’t said anything to them yet. Just that I’m fine and I’ll be coming home. They don’t know I’m staying.”
“You are mad. Certifiable.” Tariq started to pitch in, folding trousers and stacking them precisely in the oversize Louis Vuitton bag.
“If I tell them I’m moving to Avalon, they’ll think something’s wrong.”
“Something is wrong. You’ve lost your mind.”
“No, listen, I do have a plan. Some friends of mine from New York—the Wilsons—have a lake