Ava’s head shook. “I assure you that they wouldn’t have.”
There were some things she needed to ask. “Does it bother you that I was married to him? That I had a relationship with a man who could have been my grandfather?”
Ava’s eyes went soft. “I was concerned with it at first. Mostly because of busybodies who stick their noses into things they shouldn’t. I was reminded recently that I don’t want to be one of those people. Things can look different from the outside. The truth of the matter is only you and George can ever know what happened between the two of you. I’ll ask the only important question, and you can tell me as much or as little as you like. Did you care about him?”
“I loved him very much.” She could feel tears in her eyes because she’d never talked about him with anyone but Nicki, who’d been a bit brusque about the whole thing. “He was a great man, the first man who was truly good to me. He was lonely, and I was lonely. If we’d been the same age, no one would have questioned it. It would have been seen as a proper transaction. I would have been a trophy wife in the public’s mind. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. What my life might have been like if he’d been younger.”
“And what have you concluded?”
“That it wouldn’t have worked,” Vanessa admitted. “That sometimes we have relationships we need, and they don’t have to be some happily ever after. I could love George because he was older, because he needed me. I wasn’t ready then to be in a partnership of equals. I needed a father figure, and I know that sounds…”
“It sounds like a woman who is being honest with herself,” Ava said. “I will say the age difference bothered me at first, but then my son pointed out that I was being small-minded. Who is to say what emotions are worthy? Does love mean less because it doesn’t fit some perfect narrative? Is a personal relationship supposed to check off boxes the public expects them to?”
“Apparently. I know I was expected to.”
“We are all expected to. Especially women. We’re born, and by the time we’re teenagers, we’re put in boxes, and it takes a lot to get out of that box. I have to say the truth is my box was comfortable. I went from being protected by my parents’ status to being protected by my husband’s. I didn’t have to worry about what people thought of me.” Ava frowned. “So I did nothing to truly push against those boundaries. Why would I? The world was made for me. But Sophy changed that. I love my nephew like a son and Sophy like a granddaughter. What if she doesn’t want to marry a wealthy man and live a fairy tale? What if she wants a life where she’s judged on her merit? She sings quite beautifully. What if she chooses that life? What box will they put her in? How will I feel knowing I did nothing to change that?”
Vanessa could feel tears falling on her cheeks because no one had ever put it so simply. She’d been put in a box when she’d started her career. Scream queen. Bombshell. Pretty but probably dumb, and when she tried to bust out of that confinement, she’d been punished. She knew other actresses who had done much worse than she had, but the media had placed them in a different box. They could talk about feminism and they were considered activists. When Vanessa did, she was pushy. “I tried and I failed.”
Ava suddenly had a couple of tissues in her hand. “Oh, darling girl, you are far too young to have failed. You had a setback. A spectacularly painful one from what I can tell, but only a setback if you choose. You didn’t let them keep you in the box, and you paid the price. Nothing changes if no one is ever willing to pay that price. We merely push the charge off on our children and grandchildren. So I would like to thank you for pushing back.”
They were both crying now.
Ava dried her eyes and sat back. “Are you done with my son? Is there anything he can do to make up for what he did? I have to ask because I’m his mother, and I truly believe he will be alone for the rest of his life if he can’t be with you. Is there any way to forgive him?”
She’d been taught that when a person hurt you, you shut them out. That’s what her mother did. She punished every infraction and let her daughters know that her love was something they earned.
She didn’t want to live that way. She loved Michael. She could accept that he was a dumbass who’d screwed up. That wasn’t the hard part. The hard part wasn’t forgiving. “I’m afraid he’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”