Free The Woman in the Fifth by Douglas Kennedy Page A

from his newspaper and said, 'Bad news?'
     
This threw me – and made me realize he'd been studying me while I was reading Megan's email.
     
'Not at all.'
     
'Then why are you crying?'
     
'Because it's good news.'
     
'I hope there will be some more for you tomorrow.'
     
There was no further word from Megan for the next few days – even though I emailed her every afternoon, keeping the tone anecdotal, filling her in on life in my quartier . After three days, I received the following:
     
Dear Dad
     
Thanks for the last couple of emails. I was on a school trip to Cleveland . . . b-o-r-i-n-g . . . and only got back yesterday. I went into your office at home last night, and found an old map of Paris, and looked up where you are. Rue de Paradis – I like the name.
     
I had to be very careful about going into your office, as Mom told me it was off-limits, and Gardner hasn't taken it over yet . . .
     
Gardner . As in: Gardner Robson . The man who helped engineer my catastrophe and had also taken my wife away from me. The very sight of his name on the computer screen made me grip the sides of the plastic chair and try to control the rage that I still felt.
     
' Gardner hasn't taken it over yet . . . '
     
Why not take over my office when he's taken over everything else?
     
I read on:
     
I find Gardner very hard to live with. You know he used to be in the Air Force and he keeps telling me that he likes things 'ship shape'. If I leave a jacket on the staircase when I come home from school, or if I've forgotten to make my bed, that's not 'ship shape'. He can be all right as long as you do things his way, and Mom seems totally in lurve with him . . . but I'm still not totally sold on him as a stepdad. I keep thinking it would be cool to visit you in Paris, but I know that Mom would never let me . . . and, anyway, I'm still trying to sort out how I feel about what you've done. Mom said you wanted to end the marriage . . .
     
She said what ? Given that she had taken up with Robson well before my scandal hit the front pages – and given that I begged her repeatedly for a second chance – how dare she twist the truth and then feed our daughter this lie . . . a lie which Megan understandably interpreted as, in part, a rejection of herself.
     
I read on:
     
. . . and that's why you cheated on Mom with that student and then fled overseas when everything got too hot. Is this true? I hope not.
     
Your daughter
     
Megan
     
I slammed my fist so hard on the desk that the guy behind the counter looked up in surprise.
     
'Sorry, sorry,' I said.
     
'Bad news today?' he asked.
     
'Yeah. Very bad.'
     
I turned back to the computer, hit the Reply button and wrote:
     
Dearest Megan
     
I have made many mistakes in my life, and have been guilty of all sorts of wrong calls. But I never – repeat: never – wanted to end the marriage to your mom. That was her decision – and one which I tried to talk her out of. If I had my way, I'd still be living at home with you and your mom. Please understand that your mom ended the marriage because she was angry with me for what I had done . . . but she wasn't exactly blameless for the way things turned out. But, once again, let me reemphasize the fact that being away from you – and being unable to see you on a daily basis – is so terribly hard. And my one great hope is that I'll be seeing you very soon indeed.
     
Love
     
Dad
     
PS It's very important that you don't raise any of this with your mother. If you start asking her questions about whether she wanted to divorce me, she might get suspicious and wonder if we're in touch. The last thing I want is to lose contact with you.
     
After hitting the Send button, I turned to the guy behind the counter and said, 'Apologies again for punching the desk.'
     
'You're not the first. A lot of bad news gets read here every day. But maybe there'll be good news for you tomorrow.'
     
The guy was right. When I returned the next afternoon, there