Omnia Vincit Amor Pt. 04

"I went from there to say that since the openness to life argument is faulty, it was more logical to be open to life, but in proportion. Once we'd had our five, we'd done enough, and could bring about our own menopause by using the pill.

"Then I sprang it on him that I'd been on the pill for years. He was astounded and began to babble. I told him that the use of the pill was my decision and mine alone, and since I wasn't depriving him of further children against his will, it would remain so. I had an informed conscience which differed from the church's official teaching and must follow it.

"He tried to say that the only informed conscience is one that conforms to the church's teaching, and I told him that was so illogical as to be laughable. I reminded him of the arguments in 1968, and the suspicion that a majority of Catholic physicians were overruled on the grounds that if contraception were allowed after so long teaching the opposite, the infallibility of the church could no longer be upheld. I went on about Galileo and the other gaffs the church made through its history.

"Finally I asked him to consider the 'sensus fidelium': that if the vast majority of lay church members agree something is moral, then it's at least likely that it is! In any case, I told him I didn't believe in infallibility any more.

"Ellen, he gave in! I won't go into his reasoning, but he said he couldn't be dogmatic about it, when I had clearly thought it through carefully and had adduced good reasons to think as I did. He actually laughed that taking the pill was up to my conscience, but since he wasn't taking a pill, he couldn't be accused of going against his conscience!

"He laughed louder when I told him he'd make a good Jesuit! Honestly Ellen, it was so wonderful to hear him laughing freely."

"So have things improved?"

"Yes, definitely. I told him that since his sperm couldn't make me pregnant, it didn't matter whether he came in me or elsewhere! He couldn't accept masturbating himself, since that was selfish, but it was apparently OK for me to see to his needs! So we've had oral and manual. He was worried about me blowing him until I did it, then it was a different story!

"We laughed that when he came in my mouth he was still putting his sperm into me, just a different orifice! He now likes doggy style, and cowgirl. He's so much happier now.

"It made me wonder whether part of his jealousy was a fear that other men might be able to do things with me that he couldn't allow himself to do and I might be looking for more than the boring sex we used to have. He has actually said he thought I must have been bored out of my mind with our sex before we split up!"

"Sister dear, I'm amazed. So happy for you."

"Some way to go on the jealousy front, but yes, life is much better at home. It's lighter, happier."

--

Claire returned to John late on Monday night, so there was little chance of conversation as her flight next day was quite early. Before either of them were ready for it, they were outside the security entrance of the airport and were hugging and kissing (cheeks) goodbye.

"Thanks so much, John," she said, with the hint of a tear in her eye. "It's been a wonderfully relaxing weekend. Now to see how he's managed to cope with it!"

"You're welcome as always, my love. Safe journey."

They parted reluctantly and she disappeared through the gate into security.

Chapter 19

The Passing Years

Once again John returned home, but the feeling was not as depressing as the previous times she had departed. In fact he smiled to himself thinking This is becoming a habit! Things between Peter and Claire were now more on an even keel, and he could sense the marriage was now on track for the future.

He reflected she was more at peace, and comfortable with her life. Having thought the last time she left that it was the final time they would see each other, he now wondered if and when she might turn up again.

Life returned quickly to normal this time, having been disrupted only for a weekend. While he felt more balanced, and more at peace in himself now Claire was settled back into her marriage, there was still a wistfulness underlying his feelings, a feeling of love lost.

So Spring turned into Summer, and when he went to the barbers the inevitable question 'Going away?' as in 'Where are you going for your holidays?' would occur.

"Not going away," he had replied to the barber's surprise. "I'll visit my children, but since my wife's death, I've never felt like going on holiday alone."

Then would come the condolences, so he had learned to say he hadn't made a decision yet, which, he thought, saved the questioner embarrassment.

He did visit his children, staying a few days with each and enjoying the discomfort on James's face when he wondered about grandchildren!

"All in good time, Dad," his son would say.

"Don't leave it too long," John would say. "I want to be still young enough to play with them!"

James would rapidly change the subject.

For the rest of the summer, John would drive to beauty spots or stately homes, or go hiking in the hills. He realised that were he to stay in a hotel, he would feel the absence of his beloved Elizabeth all the more keenly, and it was still too soon.

Autumn gave way to winter with its grey wet days, and a low sun in the sky, shining through skeleton trees.

Of course, Claire came to mind, as she did when he sent off her Christmas card, addressed to both of them, and when her card arrived it had a short letter enclosed.

My Dear John, (that tugged at his heart strings a little, and he grinned at the feeling).

I feel a little guilty at not writing before; but time has flashed by, what with my teaching job and looking after the family.

Everything has settled down now, except for Thomas who refuses to have anything to do with me, apparently blaming me for his divorce. It seems Sharon would never have left him if I'd not given her the idea. The rest of the family laugh at him, and he hasn't much of a sense of humour, indeed not a lot to laugh about any more, so no one sees much of him. I try from time to time, but get the brush off. Sharon still keeps in touch with us all, which in turn keeps us in touch with their children. Did I tell you she is divorcing him?

Mary gave birth to a lovely little boy in October, so I'm a Grandma again! Elizabeth married Noel in the summer. They married in a civil ceremony which Peter didn't like much, and obviously Thomas didn't have anything to do with it, but Peter is mellowing and becoming more tolerant. I think he rather enjoyed the wedding.

As to that, he is just about cured of his jealousy, and at last realises that I love him and am not looking for anyone else - even you! (joke). He often says he wishes he'd got therapy much earlier. He says he's never been happier, but is sad at the missed opportunities in our past years.

And - get this - he now accepts that you and I didn't have sex (no, sorry, make love - or have sex!), while I was with you. I told him in great detail of the nights I spent in your bed with you, including the last naked one - it was during our couple's meeting with Lieve, and carefully structured. He didn't like it, but said later that paradoxically it convinced him of my faithfulness. He admires your moral stance and restraint! More to the point he realises that I love you as well as him, and amazingly is OK with that, as long as I don't leave him for you!

Come to think of it, that may also be the real reason why I've not contacted you before. I always tell him who I write to, or phone, but then I always did. I think that while he was in therapy, it wouldn't have helped if I were writing to you.

Anyway, thanks to you and your kindness in that terrible time, our marriage is pretty safe now, and Peter agrees with me on that, so at the beginning of December we formally gave notice to the court that we were reconciled and were no longer proceeding with the divorce.

So our marriage is back on track and you will always have our gratitude for supporting me.

By the way, if you ever want to use the house in Grange-over-Sands, there's a key with the nearest neighbours, Mr & Mrs Seddon. You met them, and they know I've OK'd any visit you want to make. That applies if you want to take James, Clare, or Catherine. Ellen knows to let you know if they've booked it. George isn't interested. Even though he went along with keeping the house as a holiday home, he never goes there. I think there are too many memories for him bound up in that house.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, as good as the one we all had last year. Fond memories of your family mingling with mine. Give my love to your family.

Much Love

Claire (and Peter)!

John held the letter and re-read it. It gave him a warm glow of satisfaction, of happiness that Claire had found peace in her marriage, but mixed with a deep feeling of emptiness. He knew why. He had fallen in love with her anew, and there had been that secret hope, which he had always firmly rejected, that she would return to him. The clear knowledge that now she never would, and the loss of her, was mitigated by the knowledge that he had helped and supported her in her quest to save her marriage.

He sighed and made his own plans for Christmas. On Christmas Eve he went and helped prepare the homeless hostel for Christmas dinner the following day. That year his children joined him on the Day, and though Elizabeth's absence was still felt, everyone agreed that while spending the feast at Grange the previous year was wonderful, and helped so soon after her death, this year it felt good to be home again.

Life went on and gradually he had become more used to sleeping and living alone. He never lost his feeling of loneliness but stoically bore it. He knew after Claire that he would now never want or search for another woman to take Elizabeth's place; he would live out the rest of his days alone, and in a strange way that gave him a sense of contentment and enjoyment of the simple things in his life. He became quite an expert gardener and often commented to Elizabeth (to whom he felt especially close in 'her' garden), that he hoped she liked what he had done.

Three more years passed, and then his life was changed again by a phone call one Thursday mid-afternoon in late September.

He had always sent Claire and Peter a Christmas card with a brief message detailing news of his children, including James and Julie's first baby boy and Clare's marriage to Luke, and while receiving cards from Claire in return, those contained nothing but a signature. That was the sum-total of their communication to him, which disappointed him.

The phone call set in train a new course of events and more emotional upset for him.

It was of course Claire and she was panicking. "John it's Peter! I don't know what to do!" she shouted down the phone.

"Tell me," he said quietly.

"He's collapsed he's lying on the floor. He's making noises."

"He's alive then. Have you called an ambulance - told them what you saw?"

"Yes, they're coming."

"Is he conscious?"

"I don't think so."

"Talk to him, stroke his cheek. Does he react?"

There was a short pause.

"He's sort of straining, mumbling, he's staring but I don't think he can see anything."

"What does his face look like?"

"Sort of lop-sided."

"It sounds like a stroke. Just be with him, talk to him, soothe him. You did the right thing; there's nothing else you can do. He needs to be in hospital within an hour."

"The ambulance is here. Thanks."

The call ended abruptly, at which John wasn't surprised. What he half-expected was a follow up call giving an update on Peter's condition, but when none came that day or the next he shrugged and let it go. He knew that recovery can be very slow and not always complete, and assumed Claire was wrapped up in the process of helping him recover.

Weeks later, on Tuesday of the third week of October to be precise, he received an email in the afternoon.

Hi John

Peter was at death's door for quite some time, while the hospital tried to dissolve the clot in his brain which was a very large and serious one. There was worry there would be other clots circulating round his body. The problem was that the longer it took, the more damage was done to his brain, and the less likely it was he would fully recover.

He's back home now, but he's damaged. His speech is very slow, and he finds it hard to find words. He's forgetful. His left side is partially paralysed so he limps badly and while there's some movement in his left arm, his hand is badly disabled. The left side of his face is paralysed and has dropped, so eating is difficult for him.

The worst thing is that he's not fighting it. He's badly depressed and nothing I or the family can do seems to help. He's told me a number of times he wants to die. He says he can't cope with being in this state for years; he's only fifty-nine. Obviously, his strong faith won't allow him to consider suicide or euthanasia (which is legal here), so he's stuck in abject despondency.

I've been busy with him. I've had to resign from my job to look after him, and it's so hard to keep cheerful around him. He's not eating much, I have to cajole him, but he's losing weight and I'm frightened that this, along with his depression will lead to the worst possible outcome.

Thank you for your support and advice when I rang you in a panic. Once again you came good for me. I hope you understand why it's taken so long to send this.

Claire.

John sat and read the email again, then a third time. He wondered what to do, and, should he answer it, what he could say. In the end he shut his laptop and made his evening meal.

Over the following weeks his thoughts would turn to Claire from time to time and the terrible situation in which she now found herself, but he did not send any reply, thinking there was nothing he could say. Nevertheless, whenever the phone rang his first thought was that it was Claire giving him the worst possible news, but it never was.

As Christmas approached, John sent a card as always, adding a note expressing his sadness at Peter's illness, and assuring them of his prayers, and received one from Claire, but as usual it simply said 'Love from Claire and Peter', nothing else, and he understood she had no time or inclination to write. He was touched that Elizabeth and Mary both sent him cards, which he was able to return with thank you notes since they put their sending addresses on the back of their envelopes.

After spending Christmas Eve at the hostel, he attended the Vigil Mass and remembered his own dear Elizabeth. It was then that Claire and Peter also came to mind, and he said a prayer for them and their family.

Christmas Day was spent in the same way as the previous year, and this year he visited James and family with the girls and Luke, since James's was the family with a youngster.

Again he kept Elizabeth's anniversary in January, and was comforted by his children who visited him at that time. Catherine stayed with him for a whole week.

Winter turned into Spring and Easter came and went. He became busy tending to the garden as growth took off and weeds grew faster than flowers, as they always do. Summer followed and he again faced the question of whether to take a holiday away, or stay at home. This year, he felt like a change, though he had done nothing about it.

It was at the beginning of August when his daughter Clare made a suggestion which got him moving.

"Dad," she said, "After your generous help with the deposit for our house, and now we have a huge mortgage to pay, Luke and I can't afford to go away this summer, and Catherine doesn't know Gerry well enough to take him on holiday alone with her. We've all got time off next week. We were going to spend it at home, but then I had a thought.

"Didn't Claire say we could use the house at Grange? I loved that Christmas when we were up there all together. You need a break Dad, wouldn't you like to invite us to stay there with you for a week if it's vacant?" She grinned at her impudence, and the idea suddenly appealed to John.

He phoned Ellen.

"Ellen it's John Pollard, I wonder-"

"Oh, John, isn't it so sad? Everything was going so well."

"Sorry? Sad?"

"About Peter?"

"You mean his stroke?"

"Claire's not been in touch?"

"She emailed me last October, but I've heard nothing from her since."

"Oh dear! John, I'm sorry to say that Peter died just over three weeks ago. We've just got back from the funeral. I'd have thought she would have... I wondered why you weren't at the funeral, I mean after all you did for them."

"No, she's not been in touch. Was it unexpected? I knew about the stroke, because she rang me when it happened, and she emailed afterwards to say initially he was in a bad way. But usually people recover, at least in part, and with medical support they can usually stave off any recurrence. I assumed he had recovered at least to some extent."

Ellen sighed. "Peter had a second stroke in March. It further affected his speech and his ability to find words. He was very distressed and how she coped with him then I don't know. He was incontinent and though he could feed himself slowly he often left his food, so she had to feed him. The children rallied round, but she's worn out."

"I understand. She must have been so very busy with him, and then with the funeral and so on. I'll send her an email."

"I'm sure that'll cheer her. She's very down at the moment, as you can imagine. But if you didn't know about Peter...?"

John understood she wondered why he was ringing.

"I wanted to ask if the house at Grange was in use over the next few weeks. Perhaps Claire will want to escape there for a while after all the legalities have been dealt with?"

"No, I don't think so, John," she said thoughtfully. "Simon and I are taking the children to Spain this year, and Claire will be occupied for the next month or so, from what she was saying. So you're welcome to it. Have a good time!"

John signed off with thanks, and was immediately lost in thought. He was puzzled.

When Claire had her first troubles with Peter and spent some considerable time living with John, in spite of their mutual attraction they had kept the relationship platonic, but she had been very forthcoming about her feelings for John that had been rekindled.

Then when she reconciled with Peter after his therapy, John quite understood she would put John behind her and concentrate on her husband. Indeed she had done just that. For four years there was no contact beyond a card at Christmas. He didn't expect any further contact. She had put him behind her.

So why did she turn to him when Peter had his stroke? Then after a lengthy email thanking him and telling him of Peter's plight, there was nothing, not even when Peter died, and no invitation to the funeral.

His last thought brought with it a renewed sense of isolation from her. He could understand her loyalty to Peter would make her sever her communication with John, but after Peter had died, did such loyalty remain? He felt upset that she hadn't even penned a short note advising him of Peter's death, at the very least so he could pray for her and the family and for the repose of his soul.

He was shaken from his reverie by daughter Clare's phone call.

"What's happening Dad? Did you phone Ellen?" she asked.

"Peter's died," he said quietly. "Ellen has just returned from the funeral."

"And you didn't know? Claire didn't tell you about it?" Her surprise was evident and bore out what he had been thinking.

"We aren't likely to be at the centre of her thoughts any more," said John, though he wasn't sure if he believed his own words. "She has her own life there with her family, and she'll have been preoccupied with organising the funeral and looking after her family.