Safe Harbour by Danielle Steel

thought he'd outgrow it. He refused to accept how ill Chad was, no matter what the doctors said. Every time things got better, he thought the war was over. And so did I, at first. Ted never even thought there was a war, he kept saying it was growing pains, or that I was spoiling him, or he needed a girlfriend. I think it's hard for parents to admit sometimes that they have a sick child, and it's never going to go away, or get better. It gets better for a while, with the right medication, and a lot of work and effort, but it doesn't go away. It's going to be there forever.” She seemed to have a good grip on it, but she had learned her lessons at a high price, and had never had denial about it. She had believed since Chad was small that he had serious problems, no matter how bright and charming he was. He was brilliant, like his father, but also very, very sick. It was Ophélie who had been relentless in ferreting out the problem, until they had a diagnosis. And even then, Ted refused to believe it. He said the psychiatrists were quacks, and the tests inconclusive. There had been nothing inconclusive about Chad's suicide attempts, his manic episodes, sleepless nights, or crippling depressions. And for him, medication and therapy had taken the edge off, but never solved the problem adequately. By the time he died, Ophélie had accepted that Chad would be sick forever. Only Ted hadn't. He had resisted facing it to the end. Having a mentally ill son was unacceptable to him.
    And her greatest grief, her biggest sin, as far as she was concerned, was that she had sent him to L.A. with his father. She had wanted a break, and to spend some quiet time with Pip, without worrying about Chad for a change, or being distracted by him. He needed so much attention. Only she knew that she had sent the boy away for two days, not so much to foster the relationship between Ted and him, as to get a breather herself. She knew that, however long she lived or how many groups she went to, she would never forgive herself for it. But she said nothing of that to Matt. She had to live with it now, whatever it cost her.
    “You've all been through a lot, not just the tragedy of the accident. It must be particularly hard knowing you saved the boy twice, and then lost him to a fluke accident like that.”
    “Destiny,” she said quietly. “We are all in the hands of fate, and can do nothing to control it. Thank God I didn't send Pip too,” although it had never been an issue. Ted hadn't even wanted to take Chad, the boy always irritated him and made him nervous, and Chad hadn't been enthused about the trip either. They'd both agreed finally, at Ophélie's insistence. But Ted would never have taken Pip. She was too young to go on a trip with him, in his estimation, and he rarely paid attention to her. He had in their early days of poverty, but since then, he had been far too busy. The only better solution to what had happened, barring the accident not happening, which would have been the best of all worlds, would have been if they had all been on the plane, and died together. There were many, many times now when Ophélie wished that that had happened. It would have been so much simpler.
    “Would you want to do volunteer work with mentally ill kids?” Matt asked kindly, trying to get off the immediate subject of the son she'd lost and her late husband. Inevitably, he could see in her eyes that it was excruciatingly painful.
    “I don't know,” Ophélie said, looking out to sea and thinking about it, as she stretched her legs into the sand. “I had so many years of it with Chad, and it was so intense at times, in some ways I'd like to use what I learned, to help others maybe, or it might just be better to do something else. I don't want to fight that war forever. For me anyway, it's over. It may be better to do something different. I suppose that sounds selfish, but it's honest.” She seemed to be that above all, and wise, caring, and wounded. Who