 
The Hawk Volume 2

By Anna Scott Graham

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2020 by Anna Scott Graham

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this eBook. It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this novel, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, incidents and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

For my husband. And for my Father.
Chapter 81

On the morning of the show, Stanford woke with a headache. He got out of bed, hoping not to disturb Laurie, for it was only five a.m., but Laurie stirred as well. They exchanged glances; to Stanford, Laurie looked in as much discomfort as how Stanford felt. Yet, they said nothing as Stanford walked to their bathroom for aspirin as well as to relieve his bladder. Laurie followed, but Stanford didn't tarry, heading to the kitchen, wishing Agatha was there, brewing coffee.

She wouldn't arrive until seven, leaving Stanford with a dilemma; he could start the coffee or swallow the pills with juice. Coffee would be better; Stanford needed his morning fix, which would be supplemented through mid-day. Stanford's final cup was usually around two thirty, when Miss Harold brought him the last of the pot. The dregs, as Laurie teased, held Stanford until the following morning, when at a few minutes after seven, Agatha's perfect brew was poured into Stanford's mug, beginning another work day.

Agatha didn't appear on weekends, when Laurie made the coffee, which both allowed was passable, but it never rivaled Agatha's. Yet Stanford didn't want Laurie to join him, for it was an ungodly hour. Plus Stanford didn't want to talk about Seth, who would be Laurie's guest that evening. Stanford had so hoped Eric would change his mind about attending; all those in New York had wished for that, for different reasons. Agatha was itching to see the baby, so was Michael. Laurie needed the distraction, and perhaps someone to displace his cousin. Stanford told himself how much better the show would be if the artist was in attendance, but that was his rational brain talking. Actually, it made little difference if Eric was present, for the paintings would speak for him. It was up to Stanford, as Eric's dealer, to handle the more sordid details, which rankled in Stanford's brain, not at all easing his headache. It was his job to make as much money for Eric as possible, nothing disreputable about it. But why, since the paintings had arrived, had Stanford felt so seedy, the first time in his entire career such a concept had intruded. This was the necessary part of art; painters couldn't be expected to market their work. Stanford's role made it so that Eric could remain at home, painting up a storm, which Stanford hoped was the case. The nudes of Lynne, plus the three hawks, would command prices that previously would have made the dealer flush with pride. Yet this time, Stanford's only hope was that those hawks broke the bank for the Aherns' benefit. The nudes would, Stanford had no worries, yet, was that right? How much money should a painting command?

Stanford hadn't breathed a sigh of this to anyone; his father would have thought him daft and Laurie had too much else to ponder. Stanford had nearly alluded to this with Eric the last time they spoke, but something in that man's tone had hushed Stanford, yet the notion still burned within him, was probably the cause for his blasted headache. Forgetting about the coffee, Stanford grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it halfway, then gulped the pills. Then he sat at the table, closing his eyes, trying to empty his head of such bizarre notions.

A few minutes later, Laurie entered the kitchen and Stanford stood, meeting him in the middle of the room. They exchanged a kiss, then Stanford stroked Laurie's ashen face. "What, no coffee yet?" Laurie's tone was teasing, also tired.

"I forgot." Stanford glanced at the wall clock. It was nearly six; for how long had he been sitting alone? His head still ached, but not as much as before. "Did you go back to sleep?" he asked Laurie.

"Tried to, but I kept thinking about...." Laurie sighed, then went to where the percolator waited, near the toaster. He stared at it, then at the clock, then returned to where Stanford stood. "You mind if we just wait for Agatha? I need the good stuff today."

"Not at all," Stanford smiled. "I need it too."

Laurie chuckled. "I know in twenty-four hours this day'll be over. And God, I am so ready for it to be done now." Then Laurie took a deep breath, letting it out in jerks. "I love him, you know I love him, but...."

The kiss was all Stanford's idea, but Laurie accepted it without hesitation. Neither man wanted to think, much less speak, about Seth, and affection was an appropriate diversion. Then as the kiss continued, it became a balm required by both men. When Stanford pulled away, merely to catch his breath, he gazed at the time; 6:05. He smiled, tracing the dark circles under Laurie's eyes. "She won't be here for another fifty-five minutes."

Laurie turned around, noting the time. "Well damnit, but you're right Stan. Fifty-five whole minutes. Hmmm, what should we do in the meanwhile?"

Previously, Stanford would have huffed, then stepped away from Laurie. Instead, Stanford inaugurated another long round of necking, then he led Laurie back to their bedroom. And when Agatha arrived promptly at seven, the men were still in their room, not appearing for another thirty minutes.

After meeting with reporters, Stanford and his father mingled with guests, although Stanford couldn't concentrate much beyond offering pleasantries. He was thankful Eric wasn't there, only because Stanford had never felt so out of himself, and he was equally grateful his father was picking up the slack. Michael Taylor might be retired, but his instincts remained keen, and as Stanford scanned the crowd for Laurie, he half-listened to his dad's conversations. Michael spoke as if Eric was his client, which made Stanford inwardly chuckle, also stirring a small amount of fear. If he didn't pull himself together, his father might wrest Eric's commissions right from under Stanford's nose.

Those commissions were so high that Stanford could easily slip some his father's way; both Taylors were stunned at the prices commanded by not only the three hawks, but also the nudes. Collectors from around the world were in attendance and the paintings had sold out nearly as soon as they had been viewed. Stanford couldn't wait to tell Eric, although he wouldn't bother the painter that evening. But tomorrow morning, as soon as it was a decent hour on the West Coast, Stanford would call the Snyders, then the Aherns. And then Stanford hoped his small but lingering guilt would be assuaged.

This was his job, all he had ever wanted to do; he brokered two worlds, that of art and commerce, with an inborn skill handed down from his grandfather. It took delicacy to breach such a gulf, coddling fickle artists alongside demanding collectors, although not all on either side were so challenging. Usually artists caused Stanford the bigger headaches, and Eric was one of a handful who didn't tax much of Stanford's patience, or lately he hadn't. The last couple of years Eric had been slightly vexing, those unexplained absences leaving a dealer with more than a few queries, but only at the time of those disappearances. Then Stanford considered what had been the impetus of those vanishing acts, yet, he glossed over the reasons, not wishing to consider Eric's healed foot, his late father, or.... Occasionally Stanford ruminated over Eric's eyes. They had looked differently to him when Eric's foot had been repaired. Yet, that was impossible; Eric's eyes had nothing to do with that procedure. Still, Stanford would bet money, maybe not as much as the hawks had earned, but a sizeable sum; Eric's eyes had looked almost inhuman.

Then a familiar gaze caught Stanford's attention. Laurie nodded Stanford's way and Seth was right next to him. Stanford ached to join them, although speaking to Seth would be fraught with difficulty. Instead Stanford remained where he was, giving his full attention to his father's conversation with one of Eric's most avid admirers. This man had bought the three hawks, also owned Lynne as a coral reef, which Stanford wouldn't have known except that the man boasted of it. He would give any amount of money for that barn painting, to which Michael noted that yes, others had said the same. Stanford smiled, pleased that his father made the point that not every canvas was for sale.

The man, who was portly with a bad comb-over, clucked that indeed, others would have run up the eventual bid. But he would have topped any offer, which Stanford took with a grain of salt. For no reason did Stanford want Sam and Renee to part with that painting other than for a world tour. He nearly uttered that declaration, but his father stepped in, noting that it was an amazing effort for Mr. Snyder to evolve from a nature artist to one of such renown. That the collector must be so pleased with his initial purchases, which now stood as substantial investments. Which was a very mild way of putting it, but then Michael Taylor had always been the king of subtlety, what Stanford's mother had often said with a smile in her voice. Stanford watched as the haughty collector grinned broadly. "Well, that's true," he said. "That man's made a mint off me, but I must say, I haven't done too badly in the interim."

Michael laughed, but Stanford knew his father's tone wasn't earnest. As Laurie and Seth approached, Stanford made his excuses. He was glad to get away and not even Seth dampened Stanford's relief. Stanford smiled at Laurie's cousin and Seth's small grin wasn't missed. Then it widened, making Stanford take a deep breath. Seth's blue eyes flashed brightly and his resemblance to Laurie was remarkable. Other than their eye color and Laurie's extra height, the cousins could be mistaken for twins. Stanford stared at the sculptor; again Seth appeared as an artist, not a wounded vet. In those seconds, there stood the man Stanford had known for less than five years before Seth went to Korea.

In that moment, Stanford wished Eric was at his side, for only he had the necessary vision to see what Stanford did and be able to translate it onto canvas. Even paper would suffice; harnessing his amazing talent, Eric could bring Seth Gordon back to life, if only a two-dimensional version of him. Yet, Eric's magic would make it seem like Seth was a whole man, all three dimensions of him alive and well and.... "Good evening Laurie, Seth. So good to see you both again."

All three shook hands like simple acquaintances. No one in that room would assume anything else, for the masks had been worn for ages, and the one Seth now donned was nearly woven into him. Stanford ached for that façade, for a moment before, he had glimpsed the only person in that room worthy of Eric's talent. It wasn't merely the man Seth had been who was lost, but the artist. Suddenly Stanford felt sick. He excused himself, almost running to the men's restroom.

Five minutes later Laurie entered the bathroom. "Stanford, are you all right?"

Stanford was seated in the far corner. "What're you doing here?"

Laurie scanned the stalls, then knelt in front of Stanford. "Looks like we're alone. Jesus Christ, what's wrong?"

"Where's Seth?"

"I left him with Michael. Stan, are you okay?"

Stanford nodded, although he knew Laurie would see right through him. Yet, how could he explain all that he had realized, from before that night to those seconds as the men had stood together, Seth right in their grasp. That had been Laurie's biggest lament since Seth came home. He'd returned, but it wasn't him.

Now Stanford wanted to refute that notion, for Seth Gordon had been there, the Seth they both knew, and who Laurie loved. Neither Stanford nor Laurie had any male siblings, but Laurie had Seth, although for years that relationship had been a one-sided affair. Yet Seth was there, he had been, Stanford had seen him. "How long've you two been here?" he asked Laurie.

"What? Stan, you looked ready to pass out. Listen, I'll get you home, Michael can handle the rest of the evening. Sounds like all the canvases are sold so...."

"Laurie, tell me. How long've you two been here?"

Laurie wore a quizzical gaze. "Uh, maybe fifteen minutes. First Seth had to see the blue barn and then...."

A chill ran up Stanford's spine, then he gripped Laurie's hands. "I saw him, Seth I mean. I saw him Laurie, the real him. Did he say anything when you were at the painting, did he...."

Laurie shivered, then stared at Stanford. "He didn't say a thing, just stood there, not two feet away from it. He had to muscle his way to get that close; I just stood back, but.... Oh Jesus Stan, are you serious?"

Stanford nodded emphatically. "Absolutely, oh my God." Stanford slumped back in his seat. Then he looked up as the restroom door creaked open.

Laurie scrambled to his feet, but both took deep sighs of relief as Michael appeared. "Son, are you all right?"

Stanford nodded, then slowly stood from the chair. "Where's Seth?"

"At the blue barn. I asked if he minded if I went to check on you and he said no, to please do so. Stanford, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing Dad, I'm just, uh, tired. It's been a long month. Go on, I'll only be another minute." Stanford smiled, then stepped to the wash basins, carefully splashing a bit of water on his face. He patted it dry on the roller towel, then turned to his father and partner, offering his most convincing smile.

To Stanford's annoyance, neither man bought it. "Listen, go home. You look horrible." Michael then took a deep breath. "I'll handle the rest of the evening and Laurie can assist. Seth seemed perfectly fine to stare at that barn for the next hour or so, but Stanford, you need to leave."

"Dad, I can't leave. Eric's my client and...."

"And you're doing him no favors being here in this state. I'll tell anyone interested that you had shellfish for dinner and...."

"For God's sake Dad, shellfish?"

Michael smiled. "And if you're not careful, I'll add that the very amiable Mr. Abrams had to escort you home."

Michael's tone was flat, which made Stanford seethe. "This's ridiculous! I am perfectly fine to go back out there."

Laurie gently grasped Stanford's arm. "Your father's right, Mr. Taylor. Now either you slip out unnoticed or I will make the biggest scene this town's witnessed in recent memory." Laurie wore a teasing grin. "Stan, we'll handle it. The paintings are sold, that's all that matters. Go home. I'll see you in...."

The door creaked again and Laurie released Stanford's arm. Two young men entered the restroom, both of whom Stanford and Laurie knew well in art circles. Glances were exchanged, but Stanford didn't care, for he knew those men were as committed to each other as he was to Laurie. And for the first time, Stanford didn't mind if what he shared with Laurie was realized by anyone.

The younger men quickly left, making Laurie sigh. Stanford nodded at his father, then grasped Laurie's hand. "All right, I'll go. But...." Stanford gave Laurie a meaningful squeeze. "First I need to speak to Seth."

"Stanford, you need to leave." Michael's tone was paternal.

"Dad I will, just as soon as I have a few words with Mr. Abrams' cousin."

Michael shook his head, then inhaled and exhaled wearily. "Well, do it now. Then get a cab and...."

To Michael and Laurie's surprise, Stanford reached for his father's aged hands. He clasped them gently, but with as much warmth as he had gripped Laurie's. "Just a few words Dad. Then I'll do whatever you say."

Michael wanted to observe the exchange, but patrons of Eric's art beckoned. Laurie trailed behind his lover; he needed to witness whatever Stanford felt he had to say. Laurie wasn't sure if Stanford was right; yes, Seth had needed to see the barn painting, it had been all he could talk about on the way to the gallery. It had also been the most animated Seth had seemed around Laurie since he came home. But a false sense of excitement had hedged Seth's words, or that was how Laurie heard them. If Stanford had other ideas, Laurie was willing to entertain those thoughts, if only on his partner's behalf.

Laurie watched as Stanford approached where a large crowd had gathered; only the canvas of Lynne naked on the stool had garnered a wider audience. But to longtime fans of Eric's work, it was this piece that needed to be seen, owned by an anonymous party who had generously proffered it for a much larger legion of art lovers. What would Europeans make of it, and what did Seth see, Laurie wondered. Laurie knew what Stanford thought waited in that colorful structure, but he would never betray that man's assumptions. Laurie's first impression was the same that very evening; it was for fowl and pigs. Laurie chalked that up to Eric's fondness for hawks and Sam's talent with a pork chop.

As Stanford reached the crowd of onlookers, Laurie wondered if Stan would be as resolute as Seth had been in reaching the front of the group. If Stan was going to make this a brief stop, he'd have to be insistent, but Laurie had never known Stanford to be rude. Stanford nudged his way through the throng until suddenly Laurie couldn't see him.

Five minutes passed, Laurie checking his watch, then catching Michael's anxious gaze. Laurie wanted to shrug, but propriety kept him aloof. Yet he felt as nervous as Michael, in part that Stanford had appeared unkempt, and what might he say to Seth? Laurie didn't fear for his cousin's well-being. Laurie had deliberately cut out that part of his heart, no other way to accept Seth's return. He would never be the same, not between shock therapy and whatever had happened to him in Korea. It was a defeatist attitude that only Stanford understood. But it maintained Laurie's sanity and....

As Stanford maneuvered his way out of the crowd, Laurie took a relieved breath. He didn't approach his lover, but waited for Stanford to come to him. And when that happened, it took everything Laurie had to not throw his arms around a visibly weary man. Anyone else would think that Stanford was simply fatigued. Laurie saw something far more depleting.

Yet, they couldn't speak about it, nor could Laurie reach for Stanford's hands to steady him. Few were the times when Laurie felt their affections were so strangled and he rued conventional wisdom. Yet, for how drained Stanford looked, he might not put up an argument. If they were at their families' homes, Laurie would dare to be forward. However, in that New York gallery, decorum reigned. Laurie almost wondered if Stanford's continued presence in front of Laurie was compromising, even if no words were shared. Then he heard Michael's sharp cough right behind him.

"Well, time to go?" Michael's tone was again paternal.

"Yes, I'm leaving." Stanford looked at his father as he spoke, but Laurie took those words straight into his heart.

"Call me in the morning. We can talk then." Michael patted Stanford's shoulder, which Laurie ached to do.

"I'll wait to hear from you tonight," Stanford said.

"Absolutely not. Go home and get into bed. That's an order."

Laurie nearly smiled. Rare were the times Michael displayed such fatherly attentions to his son. More often those were lavished upon Laurie, whose dad had died shortly after Laurie and Stanford had fallen in love. Once Michael and Constance had realized the depth of their son's feelings for Laurie, they had taken him on as their son-in-law, which meant the world to a young man grieving the loss of his own beloved father. Constance's poor health was as much a sorrow to Laurie as to Stanford, but Laurie knew that had no play in what troubled Stanford now.

As Stanford rolled his eyes, promising to call his dad bright and early tomorrow, Laurie stepped away, but not far from where Seth remained. Stanford might not hear from Michael until the morning, but Laurie knew Stanford would reveal much to him that night. As Laurie scanned the group, he couldn't find Seth among them. But if Laurie was a betting man, he would wager any sum that they would be the last to leave the gallery. And that for as long as the paintings remained in New York, Seth would be a daily fixture, standing right in front of Sam Ahern's kingfisher blue barn.
Chapter 82

The run-up to Thanksgiving was special for Lynne for several reasons; the first was that, unlike the last two years, Eric would be present. Then there was Jane, who seemed aware a holiday was approaching, even if that meal would only be shared with her pastor. The baby was especially chipper, but Eric teased it was due to all the yummy dishes Lynne was preparing. Two pies had been made, which Eric said was more than plenty for only the four of them, but Lynne countered that the Aherns would probably stop by on Friday, flush with the joy of how much the three hawks had sold for in addition to looking for supper. This would be first time in the last few years Sam hadn't done his own Thanksgiving cooking.

Lynne wasn't awed by all that the meal entailed; she felt a great sense of relief now that the show had opened and that the paintings were not only appreciated, but purchased for more than she and Eric had dreamed. Money would never again be an issue for the Snyders, and it wouldn't be one for a good while for the Aherns. Renee would switch to part time as soon as a child joined their family, but that might not be until well into December, or early in 1963. Both Renee and Sam were being cautious, for they didn't want to choose hastily. But that joy spilled over into Lynne, who hoped that by the new year she and Eric might again be expecting.

The couple had spent much of the last week celebrating the exhibit's success, either in the privacy of their bedroom or in the sunroom as Eric painted his wife and daughter. And when Jane napped, sometimes Eric painted only Lynne; he claimed it had been ages since capturing her alone, and she posed without clothing, wondering if maybe Eric was getting a freeloader in the deal. She didn't speak to that, reveling instead in these moments that hearkened back to simpler times, although not within this season. Lynne pondered that as she posed, also as she baked. This year was a very different sort of Thanksgiving.

Sam and Renee did stop in briefly on Wednesday, their giddiness about the hawks' sale price in evidence. They had decided not to tell their families the exact amount, for Sam still had a hard time considering such a number. Renee laughed that if they both wanted to retire, all they'd have to do is give Stanford the green light about the blue barn. While her words were spoken in the flush of excitement, Lynne knew they would never sell that painting, just as she would never part with the orchard or herself on the stool. Some of Eric's creations were too precious, no amount of money would compensate.

When the Aherns left, Jane was drowsy, having crawled everywhere she was permitted. The stairs and sunroom remained off limits, but a baby had led her aunt and uncle around the rest of the house, and now she drooped in her mother's arms. Jane didn't even fuss to nurse. She needed a nap, Eric said slyly, and Lynne giggled. Eric took the baby upstairs, then returned with a crafty grin. "Well Mrs. Snyder, what shall it be, the sunroom or the bedroom?"

"Paint me," Lynne said breathlessly. Then she stroked her husband's face. She needed no other words, for in that action another release would probably be forthcoming. Eric nodded, then led her to where a baby gate separated the rooms. He removed the gate and Lynne stepped into another realm, of sorts. It had become Eric's winter studio, but it was also the first place Lynne had posed for him without any barriers in the way.

For the first hour they took the roles of artist and model, then the couple made a rushed love, both listening for their daughter. Eric returned to stand in front of his easel as Lynne reclined on the lounge chair. Then he stepped back, gazing at her tenderly. "What?" Lynne asked.

"I never realized how important this holiday is." He joined her, kneeling on the floor. "Always before it was about food." He laughed, tracing her abdomen with paint-dappled fingers. "The last time we celebrated this day together, my God, we weren't who we are now in any shape or form."

Lynne nodded. "Sam and Renee had no idea about you and I'd never met Laurie and...." She paused, then sighed. Then she smiled. "And now you're famous, my goodness, you're a renowned artist and...."

"A father and Lutheran." Eric chuckled. "Lynne, I have so much to be thankful for, I feel like, like...." He looked around the room, then gazed at his wife. "It's like this house isn't the same, neither am I, or you. It's like more than two years have passed since we celebrated this day together, more like two decades, two lifetimes. Like we've shed so many skins that sometimes I wonder did our bones change, but it's not that, it's our souls." He set the back of his hand against Lynne's cheek. "We take one sanctioned day out of the year to give thanks, or we used to. Now it's the first thing I do every morning, thanking God for you, Jane, for faith." Eric smiled. "Maybe I'm supposed to thank him for faith first, but the first person I see is you, or your empty side of the bed." Now Eric laughed. "Then I think, wow, Lynne's not beside me because she's with the baby, our baby!" He looked toward the ceiling, then back at Lynne. "She's gonna wake soon, I just know it. But that's okay, it's what we always wanted, it's a miracle, you know?"

Lynne nodded, tears falling along her cheeks, some pooling where Eric's hand remained against her face. She did the same each day, offering her supplications for the blessings of her husband, their child, and this conviction, which ebbed and flowed in manners Lynne couldn't describe. This time last year Eric had fled and she wasn't sure to where. Two years ago, she knew where he'd gone, but his absence had been lengthy, trying her patience to its limit. It had been nearly a year since he'd last altered form, not that she thought those days were over. But after two trying years, and all those which had come before, 1962 had been a bastion of calm, and of tremendous gifts, not just for them, but for others too.

Then a sorrow rose in Lynne's chest; 1962 had brought great grief for others, but that was also part of life, valleys that couldn't be avoided. Still, within the Snyders' domain, the valleys had been few. Lynne didn't consider what 1963 might entail; she was content to focus on that day.

As Eric leaned down to kiss her, Jane's whimper was detected. Both parents giggled, then Eric stood, as Lynne did the same. As a baby's cries increased, Lynne struggled to dress, but by the time Lynne was attired, Jane was howling. When Lynne reached the nursery, Jane was sitting in her crib, wailing like she'd been abandoned. When Lynne began calling Jane's name, the baby looked up, her face streaked with tears, but a smile was forming. And as Lynne collected her daughter, Jane's despair was forgotten, blissful gurgles accompanied by warm chuckles. Lynne changed Jane's diaper, then snuggled her against her chest. Jane was content to simply cuddle, then she began to root. Lynne shook her head, then sat in the rocker, putting her baby to her breast. That was where Eric found them after he had cleaned up. He sketched them until Jane was done, another painting awaiting his attention.

On Thanksgiving morning, Lynne made breakfast for her husband and daughter, then stuffed the turkey. An hour later, the bird was in the oven as Eric spoke to Sam on the phone, exchanging holiday pleasantries. Eric had chatted with Stanford earlier, but Eric's words had been few. Lynne hadn't gotten a chance to question him, busy with the turkey, then Sam had called. Now Lynne sat with Jane, playing with blocks, but as soon as Eric was done speaking with Sam, she would inquire to that other conversation.

The house smelled of good food, the scents of pie mingling with sage and onions, also that of paint. Eric had toted the nude of Lynne to an upstairs bedroom, but the aroma could be detected, which made Lynne smile. Eric would show Pastor Jagucki the latest of a mother and daughter, but the one Eric worked on yesterday would remain concealed. The finished canvas of Pastor and Jane was on display in the sunroom, but it needed to be varnished, then framed, before Eric would give it to the pastor. Lynne wondered what the reaction had been to the first painting of Pastor and Jane; so many others were on display, perhaps that canvas hadn't garnered much attention. It was the only painting of Jane in the exhibit, but her identity hadn't been noted. Maybe someone who had attended last fall's show might put two and two together, but Lynne wasn't bothered if they did. Eric and Lynne hadn't purposely set out to hide their daughter, but neither did they wish to capitalize on her presence. The new painting Eric would give to their pastor wouldn't be displayed publically unless Marek so chose. Lynne didn't care; Jane's face was in profile. So was Marek's.

Eric's conversation with Sam seemed in no hurry to end. Maybe Sam was bored, Lynne wondered, no turkey for him to fuss over. She smiled, then stood, picking up Jane, then taking that baby into the sunroom. Now every time Jane was permitted in that room, she fought to be put down, but in no uncertain terms Lynne told her daughter this was a special place and not for crawling babies. Jane argued, then relented, as Lynne examined the two canvases, Jane in both. In the first, she spoke to her pastor, probably in Polish, Lynne smiled. In the second, she rested in Lynne's arms, gazing thoughtfully at her father.

"He came back," Lynne said softly to her baby. A mother blinked away stray tears, then Lynne touched the front of her sweater, where underneath lay that opal pendant. Lynne took a deep breath, admiring Eric's work; he was a brilliant artist, whether he was painting his wife and child or anyone else. Then Lynne stepped within a foot of the canvas of Jane and the pastor. Jane tried to reach for it, but Lynne switched her to the other hip. Lynne wished Eric had painted them looking straight on, then she took a sharp breath. Stepping away, she glanced toward the kitchen, where Eric still spoke with Sam. His tone was light, but Lynne listened more for the cadence of Eric's banter. He talked that way with Sam, also with Stanford when that man needed a good dose of teasing. Yet she had never heard that voice employed when Eric spoke to their pastor.

She knew why, but hadn't wanted to be made aware of the particulars. Eric knew what Pastor Jagucki had suffered during the war, why this latest painting was of that man, and Jane, with their faces half concealed. Eric hadn't balked at revealing their daughter, then sending that painting on what would be a world tour. Nor had Eric held back that canvas on their pastor's account. Maybe no one else would discover the truth, but Eric had, and Lynne wondered not how he had garnered that knowledge, but how he had set it aside. Maybe it rested where he kept his memories from times as a hawk. She gazed at the paintings again, seeing two different views of her daughter, but from a similar time frame. Then Lynne stroked Jane's head, the baby unusually hushed. "You know this's a special place, don't you?" Lynne whispered. "This's where Daddy works, where he...." Lynne bit the inside of her cheek. Was it a burden on Eric to perceive such information alongside the changes he couldn't escape? But then, what sort of hardships had their pastor endured? Lynne fought a barrage of tears, but couldn't hold them back. Eric had become a father and Sam was in the process. While Laurie and Stanford wouldn't assume those roles, would the man, tenderly holding Lynne's daughter, ever experience such paternal love?

By the end of the evening, Lynne didn't ponder that query, for she was too contented to consider more than her husband's presence alongside that of their baby with a very good friend nearby. Now Pastor Jagucki was Marek to both Lynne and her husband, and Uncle Marek to Jane. It had been at Marek's insistence, which had come about not long after his arrival, easing Lynne's heart. The conversation had centered on the Aherns' good news, the food, and the overall sense of gratitude. Then more jovial topics had emerged; that morning Mrs. Harmon had surprised Marek with a pumpkin pie, although it wasn't at all comparable to Lynne's pie. Still, it boded well for any possible Christmas goodies, Marek had laughed. He would return the empty tin to Mrs. Harmon in due time, he said, then see what December brought.

Eric noted that while the Aherns were with family that day, Sam had made their presence known for tomorrow. Then Eric smiled at Marek. "You're welcome too, unless you have another offer."

Marek chuckled, tickling Jane's chin. "I'd love to. Shall I bring Mrs. Harmon's pie?"

"Only if you're looking to pull one over on Sam. We'll serve it instead of Lynne's and see what he says." Eric laughed, then stood, stretching. Jane put her arms out toward her father and Eric collected her from Marek's grasp. "It'll be fun seeing how Sam and Renee react. Probably'll make them think twice about Lynne's pie the next time they come over."

"Indeed. Lynne, I have enjoyed many pies over the years, but as I've said, yours is without equal. It's even better than my mother's." Marek gazed at the boysenberry pie in the center of the dining table. "No, I'd better not. I'll have a slice tomorrow."

Lynne smiled, then she winced, hoping no one noticed. "Well, there's plenty left if you change your mind."

"If I change my mind, I won't be able to fit into my trousers." Marek chuckled, then stood, gathering the dessert plates. "Now allow me to wash up. It's the least I can do for such a sumptuous meal."

"Oh Marek, you sit down and...."

Marek smiled. "Lynne, you sit. It's my distinct pleasure to know I'm earning my supper. Besides, you've been on your feet all day."

That made Lynne giggle, for Eric had teased her before Marek's arrival that once the pastor had gone home and Jane was asleep, Eric wanted his wife back on the chaise lounge in the sunroom. Eric wanted to finish that portrait, then perhaps other activities would follow. She would need a long rest after such a busy day, Eric had teased, which now made Lynne blush. Fortunately, Marek was in the kitchen, from where the sound of running water could be heard.

Lynne stood, but before she could join her pastor, Eric thrust Jane into her mother's arms. "You heard him," Eric chided. "We men will wash up. You ladies just take it easy."

"Oh my goodness," Lynne scolded, but Eric shook his head, motioning for her to take Jane into the living room. Lynne did as she was asked and by the time the men returned, Jane was nearly asleep in her mother's grasp. Marek didn't stay long, giving Lynne his sincere thanks for such an outstanding meal, and his appreciation for another tomorrow. Eric walked him to the gate while Lynne took Jane upstairs. When Eric returned, Lynne stood in front of the fire, warming her hands against the flames.

Eric approached his wife, reaching for her hands. Tenderly he stroked them, eliciting a moan from Lynne. "Maybe I'll give that painting another day," he said in a husky tone. "The dishes are washed, well, most of them. Food's all put away though. How about we call it a night?"

Lynne smiled, then nestled into Eric's embrace. This day had never meant so much to her, and the good feelings would continue tomorrow with the Aherns and Marek. Eric put the grate in front of the fire, then double checked all the doors. As Lynne was led up the stairs, she didn't consider anything other than her husband's firm but loving grip on her hand, buffered by Jane's gentle snores. Then parents were entwined in bed and soon completion was found. Wearing only that opal pendant, Lynne snuggled against her husband. Within minutes, both were asleep.

Hours later, Lynne was stirred by Jane's cries. Lynne put on her robe, then stepped into the nursery, where Jane was tangled in her blanket. Mother and daughter sat together in the rocker, but Jane didn't wish to nurse. Instead Lynne sang a soft lullaby that somehow included references to a possible sibling. Jane didn't seem bothered, for she easily fell back to sleep. Lynne placed her in the crib, standing for just a minute, admiring her slumbering infant. Then she quietly returned to bed.

Eric was sleeping and Lynne felt a comforting wave of contentment. She got in beside him, but didn't scoot too closely, for her legs and feet were cool and she didn't want to wake him. Then she shivered, but remained where she lay. When he had returned from his time as a hawk, she would give him space for the very same reason. He would need several nights of straight sleep, and Lynne hadn't wished to stir him. Yet, those days were long past, or at least those when Eric had left every few months for a brief spate of days. Nearly a year had gone by since his last transformation, but Lynne wouldn't dare to assume that was the final time her husband would change form.

Now she was alert, although she didn't want to leave their bed. Instead she closed her eyes, trying to focus on the tangible aspects of her life, of their lives. Then she smiled, for the most important was a most elusive notion. Why had God chosen this life for Eric, for all of them? Lynne prayed for Fran and Louie, wondering how this holiday had been for them. She would hear the details from Renee and Sam tomorrow, and maybe it was good that Marek would be there to add any pastoral wisdom. Then Lynne considered the rest of her family, far away on the East Coast. This was Seth's first Thanksgiving since being hospitalized and Lynne hoped it had gone well. Yet, she wouldn't easily learn those particulars unless Eric shared his somewhat terse phone call with Stanford, or until a letter from Laurie arrived. Usually Lynne read Laurie's correspondence with an eye to what wasn't stated. Tomorrow, she decided, before the Aherns and Marek came for dinner, Lynne would surprise Laurie with a phone call. For the last two Thanksgivings, Lynne had been alone, uncertain to what the future held. She wished to share with Laurie not necessarily her faith, but that her hopes had been borne out. If nothing else, Lynne could proffer that to Laurie and she fell asleep forming the words in her head.
Chapter 83

When Eric rose the next morning, Lynne's side of the bed was empty. Eric smiled, thanking God for faith, his wife and their daughter. Then he took a deep breath, brushing his hand over where Lynne slept. The sheet was cool; how long had she been awake? Eric glanced at the clock; it was nearly seven. Then he stood, used the toilet, and returned to his room, gazing at the calendar hanging near the door. Eric walked that way, inspecting the X's which marked the days earlier that month when Lynne had finally gotten her period.

Eric shivered, mostly from the chilly air. He put on his robe, then went back to that calendar, wondering how long it would take for her cycles to become regular and then.... He chuckled while putting on slippers. As he opened the bedroom door, he heard crackles from the fireplace and a mother's soft hum.

Taking the stairs, he found his family reclined on the sofa, and Eric joined them. Jane had been nursing, but she looked up, then grinned at her father. She turned toward him and Eric embraced her as Lynne stood, walking to the fire. She added wood, but didn't face her husband.

"How long've you been up?" Eric's voice was light, for Jane's sake. Something was wrong, for Lynne still hadn't turned back his way.

"She woke at six, but I've been up since five."

Eric stood, then went to Lynne's side. "Honey, what is it?"

Lynne faced him, tears all along her cheeks. She stroked the baby's head, then shook her own. "Not right now."

Eric nodded, then brought his free arm around his wife. Jane giggled, but that happy sound didn't sooth her mother's sorrow.

Eric took care of Jane while Lynne showered, then started laundry. Parents hadn't said more around their daughter than noting their guests for supper, but while Eric wanted to mention the New Yorkers, he kept mum, wondering if they had caused his wife's turmoil. When Jane grew drowsy, Eric toted her upstairs, setting her in the crib. Then Eric found Lynne in the laundry room. The washer was going, the dryer too. Lynne was folding towels and Eric cleared his throat. "She fell asleep pretty easily."

Lynne turned his way. "Good. I hope she sleeps for a while."

"Me too. You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

She sighed, then placed the folded towel on the stack. "I called Laurie this morning. I'd thought about it last night when Jane woke and...."

"When did she wake?"

Lynne wore a small smile. "It was two, three o'clock maybe." Then Lynne sighed again. "I just wanted to tell Laurie that no matter how things seemed with Seth, it would be all right. I was thinking about two years ago, how bleak everything looked. I'm sure he feels the same, it's all he doesn't say in his letters." Lynne leaned against the washer, crossing her arms over her chest. "I learn more from what he doesn't write than what he actually puts on paper."

"So you called him and...."

"And at first he was worried something was wrong here. His voice was like I'd never heard him, you know, he's usually so calm. For a minute I wondered if I was talking to Stanford."

Eric nodded. "Honey, what?"

She didn't seem eager to enlighten him, which gave Eric pause. Then her arms went limp at her sides. "We talked until Jane woke, the phone bill's gonna be sky-high this month. A couple of times he offered to call me back, but then he worried it would wake Jane, or you." Lynne had a small smile. "But he needed to talk, I don't think I ever got to tell him what I wanted." She sighed again. "I'll write to him, maybe that's better, he can read it when he needs the reminder."

Eric's heart ached, but it was overwhelmed by his curiosity. "Yeah, that's probably for the best. So Lynne, what did Laurie need to talk about?"

Slowly Lynne approached her husband, clasping her hands around his. "Seth knows, Eric. He knows about you."

"He knows what?"

She stroked her husband's face, then kissed his cheek. Then she leaned toward his ear, whispering into it. Her words made Eric blink, then shiver, but not from any chill, for the small laundry room was cozy. Then Eric shuddered, but his wife's strong arms supported him as Lynne noted that while Seth knew the truth, thankfully Laurie seemed unaware.

The couple went to the sofa where Eric sat with a plop while Lynne tended the fire. Then she joined her husband on the couch, explaining that on Thanksgiving, the cousins had a long, private conversation, the essence of which was discussing what was in the blue barn. Seth had been to the gallery every day since the exhibit's opening and while he'd admired all the paintings, he was back to obsessing over one particular canvas. Laurie did note that Seth had mentioned the one of Pastor Jagucki and Jane, but that was the only other piece to garner his attention. The barn was all Seth could talk about, which at first had gladdened Laurie's heart, for previously that painting had brought Seth great peace. But now it seemed to have triggered something within Seth that to Laurie wasn't at all serene. Then Laurie admitted to Lynne that even Stanford was out of sorts; he'd had to leave the gallery on opening night, feeling ill. And since then, Stanford had been remarkably quiet, although that wasn't connected to Seth. Just as Laurie started to explain Stanford's odd mood, Jane had stirred, and Lynne had to end the call. Laurie promised to write Lynne what he else he wanted to tell her, but Lynne wondered how much might Laurie actually reveal. Would he revert to his normal read between the lines style? She hoped not, or she might call him back, regardless of the charges.

All that time Eric stared at the fire, wishing to feel the heat. The flames rose and sparked, but Eric knew only a deep chill. Then he gazed at Lynne. "But you said Laurie doesn't know. How, I mean, can you be sure?"

Lynne grasped his hands and for the first time Eric felt a hint of relief. "He said that they were talking about the barn and that Seth said he knew why you'd painted it, and what you'd put inside it, all the hawks you ever were." Then Lynne caressed her husband's face. "The way Laurie said it, I knew he took it as all the hawks you'd ever painted. But honey, it was like I could hear Seth's voice through Laurie's. He knows Eric, my goodness, somehow he's known since, well...." She stared at Eric's mostly healed left foot. "He knew about that, and while I have no idea how or why, he knows about this." She placed her hand in the center of her husband's chest. Eric's heart pounded as a rush of warmth permeated his upper torso, shooting into his limbs. Lynne kept her hand there and Eric gripped it. But he was still frightened, no other way to describe it. How in the world could Seth Gordon know the most unearthly aspect of Eric's entire life?

Then Eric closed his eyes as that warmth translated into a strange but immutable peace. Seth wasn't the only one, for Marek knew too, but how? "Marek knows," Eric murmured. Then he cleared his throat. "He said something about my eyes that day I went to talk to him." Eric gazed at his wife; his vision seemed the same, despite that prolonged absence. Now Lynne looked weary. "Honey, what else did Laurie say?"

"A lot, but to be honest, I had a hard time keeping it all straight once he told me that. Plus I wanted to tell him the reason I'd called, but I was never able to work that in. He said that Seth wants to meet you when we go out in spring and that, that...."

"Lynne, what?"

"Oh Eric, my goodness, how could I forget this part? Laurie was talking about Stanford and how not quite depressed he seems, but something's wrong, and then ...."

"What honey, what is it?"

Now all of Lynne trembled. "Eric, Seth told Laurie what he sees in the barn and it's, it's, it's...."

As a wife spoke, Eric closed his eyes, pulling her as close to him as he could. For what Seth Gordon saw in that blue barn was a weight far heavier than the secret Eric and Lynne carried, darker than anything a human should bear. Eric wasn't surprised Lynne had forgotten it, but he worried deeply for not only Seth, but also for Laurie and Stanford too, for they must know as well.

For the rest of the morning, the Snyders pondered these new facts; at several points Eric wanted to call Laurie, but he couldn't get past picking up the receiver. It wasn't due to the party line, nor did Eric worry about Lynne and Laurie's conversation having been shared with others who could have eavesdropped. It had been far too early in the morning, he considered. And other than the weighty truth of what Seth saw in the barn, nothing else could be discerned, for not even Laurie realized the meaning of Seth's words. Yet, that detail colored Eric's mood, although he tried to brush it aside. He hoped Sam and Renee would arrive before Marek did, for Eric needed to speak about this, and soon. He would tell Sam while Lynne informed Renee, then at least two others could be aware of this oddity. They were the only ones who knew about Eric's alterations, or at least they were the only people who had seen it occur. If Marek knew, Eric couldn't do anything about that, nor did he expect Marek to speak about it unless he had the unfortunate luck to witness such an event. Then Eric sighed as Jane's cries emerged. Lynne was in the laundry room, leaving Eric to fetch their now wailing baby.

By the time he reached the nursery, Jane was in full throttle. He found her in a heap in the center of her crib, and as he picked her up, she still wept. He crooned her name, placing tender kisses along her face. "Oh baby, you're okay," Eric said, but he wondered if this child had ascertained her parents' unease. They sat in the rocker as Jane still whimpered, but with her father's soft voice close, Jane began to settle. Then she giggled, making Eric smile nearly against his will.

"What's so funny?" he said. "My goodness you bring out the best in anyone."

She laughed at him, then fussed. Eric stood, changing her diaper, which returned her to a good humor. Then father and daughter went downstairs where they found Lynne fixing lunch. Jane was fully recovered from her sorrows as she was placed in her high chair, but Eric still felt rattled. Yet, he didn't wish to speak about it around his daughter. Not that she would recognize anything her parents said, but it was the overall tenor, or maybe it had nothing to do with Eric at all. Maybe what bothered him most was what Seth visualized in the blue barn.

Eric didn't wish to concentrate on that, so instead he stared at his child, being fed by her mother. Lynne spooned up something mushy and Jane seemed pleased enough. At times Jane tried to reach for the spoon, but Lynne kept it from her grasp, which Eric knew wouldn't be for much longer. Jane would be feeding herself, then drinking from a cup, toddling all over the house, except within the sunroom. The upstairs would eventually be added to her domain and he winced thinking of her taking a few steps, then perhaps falling down. Eric stood, then walked to the kitchen sink, gazing out the window. Boysenberry vines were stripped of their leaves, but the day was bright, low sun casting long shadows.

Seth had once been Jane's age, blissfully ignorant of the world's terrors. They all had been, but then everyone grew up and faced the less stellar parts of life. But Seth had been blessed, or perhaps cursed, with a gift that for a few years had brought great joy to his heart and when shared it enlightened others. Then that treasure had been snatched from his grasp, or maybe his hands had been forcibly tied back; either way, Seth had felt compelled to enlist in the army of all things. For what ungodly reason had Seth chosen to go to Korea?

The answer to that question waited in the blue barn, yet how much about Seth did Eric wish to know? On that day Eric felt he knew more than enough and Seth seemed to know plenty about Eric. Maybe Eric should just be glad Laurie wasn't aware of anything past what Seth had said. And to Laurie those were merely Seth's assumptions, although Eric smiled; Seth was absolutely correct. That blue barn was full of hawks, perched quietly, having had their moment in the sun.

Or in bitter winds and freezing rains or.... Eric shivered, then heard the happy chuckles of his daughter. He turned to see her, trying to grab the spoon from Lynne's outstretched hand. A mother was indeed making a game of it and Eric smiled. He had no way to fight the joy stirred by his beloved wife and their darling baby. He was a man torn in two, without any manner to stop the inhumane alterations. Yet, at that moment, he was simply a husband, a father, a.... "One of these days she's gonna snatch that outta your hand."

"I know," Lynne giggled. "And it'll probably have cereal on it, then all over me."

Eric retook his seat, then stroked Jane's hair. "She's growing so fast, sometimes I feel like I look at her and she's a different person."

Jane gazed at her father, then at her mother. Then she reached for the spoon. Lynne set it on the tray and Jane picked it up, but didn't put it into her mouth. She studied it, which to Eric was in the same way he had examined an object before drawing it, when he was much younger. Now he only needed to inspect his subject for where shadows fell, how colors mingled. But when he was a child, with much time on his own, he had scrutinized various items, trying to see them in two dimensions, the angles and volumes appropriate to each part. It had been done unconsciously; he had never thought it was time to pay attention to the curvature of an apple or the straight sides of a box. It was life flowing through those things, then how those existences were transferred onto paper. No one taught Eric to draw; it was an instinct from his earliest memories.

Changing into a hawk had been a similar process, although he had been eight years old at the time. But by then he'd already suffered abuse, so perhaps altering form hadn't seemed so traumatic. Eric couldn't honestly remember anymore. Too many good moments had crowded out those lesser, and he was older. Then he wondered if Seth recalled sculpting the figures at Stanford and Laurie's; did Seth remember a time before all he knew was pain?

"What're you thinking?" Lynne's tone was soft, as was her grip on his hand.

Eric smiled at her. "I wanna tell Sam and Renee when they get here, assuming they get here before Marek. They can pray for Seth as well as be aware. Not that there's anything we can do about it, other than be aware. And maybe see if Laurie ever puts two and two together."

Eric didn't rue that possibly. If for some reason Laurie learned the truth, well, Sam hadn't suffered overtly, neither had Renee. Yet, Eric didn't want Stanford to know, although he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just that Stanford was already troubled by something which Eric wished to know. He might not wait for a letter from Laurie, which may or may not enlighten the Snyders. Eric might call Stanford tomorrow morning, if Eric happened to wake before Lynne. Their phone bill would be astronomical that month, but what were a few dollars when friendship was involved?

He smiled at himself; Eric could call the New Yorkers every morning for the rest of his life and it wouldn't make a dent in his bank account. He had pondered never selling another canvas, either giving them away or sending them on world tours. It would infuriate collectors, who ached to possess as many paintings as they could accrue, but Eric and Lynne didn't need the money. But what would Stanford make of such a wild idea? Eric began to chuckle, then he gazed at his wife. Lynne didn't look sad, but rather thoughtful. "Lynne, what?"

"Oh, just thinking about what you said, if Laurie ever figured it out. He might, I mean, it'd take some pretty strong hints from you or me. I don't think he'd ever take it solely on Seth's word. Laurie loves his cousin, but Eric, in his voice, I heard, oh goodness. He thinks Seth's a lost cause." She swallowed hard, then continued. "He spoke like there's no way they'll ever have him back, like shock therapy stole something that can never be replaced. Or maybe he said that, he said a lot." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "It was like he felt how his mother and aunt probably do, although before he hadn't been so pessimistic. Now he sees his cousin, or he sees who Seth no longer is. That's what it was Eric. Seth isn't the person Laurie grew up with and Laurie can't hope anymore. He's been holding out hope all these years and now it's all gone."

"Maybe all the more reason for you to write him, telling him he can't give up hoping."

She nodded, then sighed. "I don't think he'll take it to heart. Not unless I told him the truth."

She raised one eyebrow, which made Eric chuckle. "You do that and...."

"He'll think I'd lost my mind." Lynne smiled, then stood, walking to the sink. She returned with a wet rag, cleaning Jane's hands and face, then the tray. Then she unhooked the tray from the chair, nodding to Eric. He collected their daughter, who still gripped the spoon.

Eric smiled at Jane, then at his wife. "She's not gonna let you feed her anymore. She'll insist on doing it herself."

"Maybe. Or she'll find she's not coordinated enough and when she's finally starving, she'll give it back to me."

Eric nodded, then laughed. "Perhaps. But necessity is the mother of invention. Maybe this's how Jane learns to master a spoon."

"Time will tell," Lynne said.

"Indeed it will," Eric replied. He kissed his daughter's face. "Lynne, why don't you go write Laurie. The sooner he gets that message, the better."

She shrugged. "Maybe it'll fall on deaf ears."

"Perhaps," Eric said, bouncing Jane on his knee. "Or maybe he'll pay attention."

"What, you want me to tell him you change into a hawk?"

Eric laughed again, which made Jane chortle. "No, not yet, although I won't rule it out. Just tell him that for a long time we wanted a baby and that today Jane was preparing for life as a painter. Or a chef, I'm not sure which."

Jane grew quiet, then both father and daughter stared at Lynne. Eric watched his wife's face change from hesitation to slight bemusement. Then she nodded as peace shone in her eyes. "Yes, maybe that's the best way to approach it."

"You can tell him it was my fault we couldn't have a child. Maybe he'll talk to Stanford about it and...."

"And what?" Lynne's tone was incredulous.

Eric chuckled. "Only that I told Stan I'd had my foot fixed. Maybe Stan will imply something else was repaired too."

"Oh my goodness." Lynne stood, shaking her head, walking to the doorway. But before she left the room, she turned back, stepping to where her family remained seated. Lynne kissed the top of Jane's head, but only stroked Eric's. Then she left the kitchen, humming the same tune Eric had heard from her first thing that morning.
Chapter 84

On the second Sunday in Advent, Sam and Renee went to the Snyders for dinner. Sam brought custard, but wasn't sure with what sort of dessert it might be served. He was still suspicious of Lynne's pies, also curious about that Polish pastor's sense of humor. Renee had teased Sam about it for the last two weeks, but their moods had been chipper. They had met with a little boy name Robbie, who seemed to like both of them just fine. Robbie was five, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a rather warm smile for having lived at St. Joseph's for the last eighteen months. But perhaps, starting in 1963, Robbie would reside with the Aherns.

Sam parked outside the gate, then quickly walked with Renee to the house. As they entered, the kitchen was warm and good-smelling, an apple pie just having been taken from the oven. Lynne smiled at Sam, who chuckled as Renee set the bowl of custard alongside the steaming pie. "Looks like they belong together," Renee said.

"Another well-matched pair," Lynne replied. "How are you two?"

"Good," Sam said, still gazing at the pie. He inhaled the heady cinnamon fragrance, then laughed. "Glad to see that's one of your concoctions."

Lynne giggled, then gave Sam a hug. "You have every right to scrutinize that pie. Marek still talks about it."

Sam huffed, but it wasn't directed at Lynne, which she seemed to understand as she released him. "Well one of these days that Pole's gonna get his." Sam had wanted to think of a way to trick Marek, but his thoughts had then been overwhelmed by the idea of fatherhood. Robbie had seemed aloof, but only at first. Perhaps all the children at St. Joseph's were wary of grown-ups, or maybe it was Sam. He got along well with adults and his own nieces and nephews, and Jane of course. Sam could hear her and Eric as both entered the kitchen. Jane laughed, Eric chuckled, then Jane was in Renee's arms, receiving kisses. Jane leaned toward her uncle, stirring Sam's smile. He hoisted her in the air as she giggled. Then she rested in his grasp, settling his heart. Robbie was much bigger, Sam couldn't heft him around, but at the orphanage Robbie had sat beside Sam as they read a book. Robbie pointed at the pictures while Sam stumbled over the words, his heart being altered with every syllable pronounced. It was similar to when he'd first held Jane, right after her birth, scales falling from his heart which he hadn't realized were there.

Conversation flowed around him, but Sam didn't pay attention, in part that parenthood was now a drug needing a constant fix. Jane provided her uncle with just enough to placate Sam until he saw her again, or if he visited Fran and Louie's clan. The other distraction on Sam's attention was the names mentioned, of the New Yorkers. Now Seth was tightly woven into that moniker, for what he knew about Eric and all he saw inside the blue barn. Sam wasn't sure which was more prophetic, but he accepted the weight of both pieces of information. A few times he had considered writing to Seth as a fellow vet, but not as one who knew the truth about Eric. That needed to stay under wraps until.... Then Sam had grimaced. But ultimately he hadn't written to Seth because Sam had too many other things to consider. Robbie was top of the list and right behind that child was a gaping wall space in the Aherns' home, and the news from Eric about Stanford's recent change of heart. Stanford didn't want to represent Eric any longer, or rather, he didn't want Eric to sell any more paintings period. Sometimes Sam wasn't sure which news was more startling, Seth's realizations or Stanford's about-face. Then Sam again would flinch; he was ready to adopt a child. What could be more odd than that?

But no one here called him on it, none of his family had either. Well, Joanie sometimes nudged him in the side as he chatted with one of her daughters, or when he was lost in a game of Chutes and Ladders with Johnny and Helene. Helene had no idea how to play, but Johnny was good at it and Sam couldn't wait to play it with Robbie. It had been hard not buying that boy any gifts when Sam and Renee went shopping for their relatives. With so many relations, both of Sam and Renee's clans picked out of a hat, choosing one family upon which to bestow presents. Sam had always sighed when Renee ended up with either Ritchie or Tommy, for those Nolan brothers had huge families. This year Renee had her sister Sandra, who only had five kids. Sam had Joanie, although he wouldn't have minded Fran and Louie. The Canfields were so pleased that Sam and Renee were adopting, which had greatly eased Sam's mind. In no uncertain terms Fran had told her brother that life was short. She wanted a little niece or nephew, and to get busy. For a second Sam had winced, Frannie's tone as though Sam and Renee could actually conceive a child. Perhaps she was so used to everybody else bringing a baby into the world, or maybe, Renee had said, when Sam shared his misgivings, Fran simply accepted that while not everyone built a family in the same way, the unit was still related.

As Jane giggled, Sam gazed at her, then realized the truth of Fran's statement. This was also his family, one he had never planned. Sam and Renee were buying presents for Eric, Lynne, and of course Jane. If Laurie wasn't Jewish, Renee had wanted to get something for him and Stanford, although Sam had no idea what she might have chosen. Then Sam wondered if it was wrong excluding the New Yorkers merely because Laurie wasn't a Christian; that year Hanukkah began right before Christmas; maybe they should send a little something, no more than a token. It could be a thank you gift as well, for all Stanford had done in selling their painting.

Then Sam sighed. Better to not denote that action for how Stanford was currently feeling about his career, at least in regards to Eric. But then maybe Stanford didn't regret the three hawks being sold for the good that money would do its former owners. Sam didn't miss the painting, but the blank wall space was disturbing. Yet, Eric had told the Aherns a new piece would replace the hawks around Christmastime.

Sam didn't consider what Eric might have painted; it wouldn't be of him or a family portrait. Then Sam felt one fleeting glimmer of distress; Renee never mentioned a picture of them with whichever youngster they adopted. Not that she talked about Eric painting only her and that child either. Sam sighed, kissed Jane's cheek, then handed her to Renee. Could he pose for Eric if perhaps a son rested in his arms? If somehow Sam had Eric's assurance that nothing other than his physical bearing would be represented, Eric could again translate Renee's spectacular eyes, or capture Robbie's beautiful smile; that boy had a charming countenance. His mother had died, his father was.... The nuns hadn't made an issue of it, for there hadn't been a father in Robbie's life past the night that boy was conceived. But Sam was ready to fill that role; he ached to again hold Jane, who now crawled on the kitchen floor, not wishing for anyone to restrain her. Sam watched as she scuttled around chairs and through her parents' wide stances as if they knew this room was an obstacle course for their mobile daughter. Then Jane laughed, heading toward the doorway. Eric went after her, hollering how sneaky she was. Sam followed them, finding Jane making a beeline for the unguarded sunroom entryway. Eric just beat her, scooping her into his arms as she wailed over an unjustly defeat. Sam laughed as he met them, then Jane leaned toward her uncle. Sam grasped her while Eric secured the gate. Jane still protested, although she snuggled against Sam's shoulder. He closed his eyes, imagining Robbie at Jane's age. Sam hadn't been there then, but he would be soon enough, and hopefully Robbie would never miss what hadn't been.

As families prepared for the holidays, Stanford took stock of his role as an art dealer. He hadn't blatantly told Eric that he would no longer represent him, but Laurie had made Stanford's feelings clear to both Snyders. Initially Stanford wasn't sure how he felt about Laurie's declaration, but it had eased Stanford's mind, which was still burdened by all Laurie had learned on Thanksgiving. Stanford hadn't seen Seth since that day, too busy preparing Eric's paintings to be shipped to London. The exhibit in New York would close on Sunday, just in time for Christmas. Then the canvases would head for Britain, and after that Stanford wasn't sure what would happen, although not with Eric's paintings. Stanford had detailed notes of all the museums awaiting those canvases. What bothered Stanford was the return of those artworks. Once they were distributed to the new owners or taken back to the Snyders' compound, what might Stanford's role in Eric's life then be?

Only Laurie understood, well, to Stanford's irritation, Seth did too, but then, what did Seth actually know anymore? And how would Seth adjust once the blue barn was removed from the gallery? That gallery had become Seth's daily fixture, the barn the center point of his life. But Stanford couldn't ruminate over that for long, it gave him a headache. Nor did he stop in the library, where those figures seemed to loom much larger than their size. Stanford wanted to pack them away, but that wouldn't assuage his mood. Not that Seth would be offended; he didn't visit Laurie in Manhattan. Seth lived with his mother in Brooklyn. Laurie's mother Rose lived practically around the corner from her sister Wilma, the whole clan tightly knitted together within a five-block radius, which included Laurie's older sisters, Seth's too. Laurie and Seth had been the only males born into a family of protective, strong-willed females. Stanford was fond of Rose Abrams, but had never felt at home among all those Jewish women.

Laurie's father Aaron had died of a heart attack just months after Stanford had met Laurie, leaving Stanford with little personal recollections of a man who had graced his son with abundant sporting talents, but little in the way of fatherly advice. But then, Laurie hadn't needed parental admonishments, or not in the way his sisters had required their mother's guidance. Laurie had several nieces and nephews, as did Stanford, but neither man was particularly close to those relatives. Well, Laurie was more attached to his, which Stanford attributed to Laurie's religion, although the Abrams and Gordons weren't pious Jews. Laurie was the least observant, yet since Thanksgiving, he'd mentioned that he was going to send Jane something for Hanukkah. Not eight nights' worth of gifts, he'd wryly stated, but a small brown bear had found its way into the apartment, making Agatha smile. Stanford had sighed, for he wished the Snyders would have traveled for the exhibit, although it was definitely for the best that Eric had not seen his dealer on opening night. Stanford had kept that to himself, but remarked that Jane would indeed enjoy her one Hanukkah present.

Stanford hadn't felt compelled to choose anything for Jane. Christmas wasn't more than a day off from work, well, a couple of days' break. That year it fell on Tuesday, so actually Stanford wouldn't get to the office until Thursday, allowing Emily Harold time with her family. New Year's Day would preclude any real business the following week, but now Stanford wasn't sure what real business meant. His heart hadn't been in any of it since speaking with that obtuse collector at the opening of Eric's show.

In the comfort of his home, Stanford could consider that moment as if he now stood outside of it like a bystander. He could see the man's affected mannerisms, his boorishness an offensive odor, unduly irritating Stanford. That hadn't been the first time Stanford had dealt with such peevishness, nor would it be the last, although it might be concerning Eric's canvases. Stanford didn't imagine he would start 1963 looking for new employment; his father would send him to a doctor, wondering if Constance's mental deficiencies were now troubling their son. Most likely Stanford would die as an art dealer, for no other Taylors would follow him. But how to proceed without the burning eagerness to scout out new talent, then showcase it appropriately? The love of art no longer drove Stanford, instead replaced by a rote awareness of commitment to his clients. It wasn't only Eric over whom Stanford felt this way, a few others having earned a healthy dose of Stanford's respect. But it was over Eric whom Stanford most ached; he never wanted that man to part with a single painting unless Lynne and Jane were starving.

Yet, unless Eric became a compulsive gambler or fell into another harmful vice, the Snyders would never again be concerned with finances. For that Stanford was grateful, permitting his acumen had set up that family for life. Laurie had tried to ease Stanford's mind, that if he hadn't taken on Eric in the first place.... But while Stanford's head knew that was the case, his heart throbbed in a place not previously noted. Sentimentality hadn't before intruded in Stanford's life, other than the pain he felt over his mother's failing health and the sorrow that caused his father. Not even Seth had put such a strain on Stanford's soul, then he shook his head. His soul, what was that? He grimaced, then smiled. Eric might have an argument waiting if Stanford mentioned such drivel.

Stanford hadn't revealed any of this to Eric, only Laurie had. But Eric knew and Stanford was sure Lynne did as well, probably the Aherns too. And for as much as Stanford liked Lynne, Sam, even Renee, he only cared what Eric thought. But that man had said nothing, which grated on Stanford, although he knew the reason for Eric's silence. Eric was waiting for Stanford to bring it up. Only then would Eric make his feelings known.

Damn artists, Stanford rued. Either they were emotionally draining or they subtly wormed their way under Stanford's skin. He stood abruptly, then left the living room, where a fire had crackled all afternoon. Snow fell outside, but that hadn't meant much to Stanford. It was the time of year for poor weather, it was Christmastime.

Stanford reached the hallway, gazing to the left, but he didn't wish to even walk past the library. Instead he went right, slipping into the dining room, hearing Agatha's hum from the kitchen. Laurie was busy with a client and wouldn't be home for supper. Agatha was making stew, which Stanford loved and could easily reheat for Laurie if perhaps his meeting was cut short. Stanford imagined that wouldn't be the case; Laurie would be out late, leaving Stanford alone in their usually cozy apartment. But since Thanksgiving, or more precisely opening night of Eric's exhibit, this house hadn't felt right to Stanford. He knew why, but simply couldn't face Seth's figurines.

Stepping into the kitchen, Stanford nodded to Agatha, then sat at the table. She didn't speak, but brought him a cup of coffee. He grasped the mug with both hands, then sipped slowly. The brew was just as tasty as it had been that morning, but it was a fairly fresh pot; she had started it when he returned, just before lunch. What use had it been to sit in his office when nothing felt correct? But coming home hadn't helped either. Stanford didn't like the ambiguity which had infiltrated his entire sphere.

If work was difficult, home was a balm. Home was rarely troubling, only when his mother had first fallen ill, or when Seth was.... But Seth would now always be this way, as would Stanford's mother. Would nothing in Stanford's life ever be as it was supposed to?

His sigh was long and it made Agatha turn his way. "You all right?" she asked flatly.

"No, I'm not all right." Then Stanford sighed. "Thanks for the coffee."

She nodded, humming while stirring the stew. Then she approached him. "You wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head, then felt himself begin to nod as if his heart was betraying every fiber of his being. He couldn't stop himself, which led Agatha to pulling out the chair beside him. She kept her distance, sitting a few feet away, crossing one leg over the other. Stanford now found himself staring into her deep brown eyes, gray hair in tight curls framing her relatively unlined face. Agatha Morris had served Stanford for many years and while he knew her exact age, she appeared a good fifteen years younger. The women in his life couldn't hide from time, yet this one defied it, and did so beautifully.

She didn't grasp his hand; she wasn't his mother, although she knew him better than his mom ever had, fully aware of his weak spots, and his deep love for Laurie. Somehow she even realized his current anxiety, for her kind but reserved eyes permitted him the necessary space. He needed to speak of this breach in his usual armor. Not Agatha nor Eric nor anyone else could draw it from him first.

But how to talk about something so, so.... Stanford almost clucked as the word ethereal passed through his mind. Ethereal conjured intangible notions, which at this time of year beckoned to religious customs, Christian and Jewish. Then Stanford chided himself, for what were Santa Claus and dreidels truthfully? Just amusements, nothing more, and certainly not meaningful when it came to....

He glanced at Agatha, who was still facing him. She looked as young as Lynne Snyder, but that was impossible. Stanford blinked, then gazed at the stove, where the flame barely glowed. His stomach growled, which made him flinch. Yet Agatha said nothing, she didn't move a muscle. She wasn't going to say it either; Stanford had to make the initial move.

But speech wasn't necessary as now his belly grumbled loudly. Agatha stood, then returned to where dinner waited. She spooned him a generous portion of stew, then brought it to the table, placing the bowl in front of him. She added a plate of crackers and a glass of milk, which made Stanford inwardly sigh. He felt like a five-year-old, but how much of that was his own truculence?

He ate a silent dinner, then thanked her for the meal, taking his bowl, plate, and cup to the sink. His coffee mug remained on the table, but he left it, then exited the kitchen. He wandered around the apartment, wishing for Laurie. Then slowly Stanford walked to the library. He didn't enter that room, but stared at the door, which felt like gazing into Agatha's eyes. Why was he being so, so, so.... Several adjectives popped into his head; was it stubbornness or sullenness or.... It was fear, he finally admitted, but not aloud. Yet, fear gripped him, although he knew not the cause. However he permitted the sensation. Maybe that was the first step.

But while realized, fear kept him from opening the library door. Instead he turned around, returning to the kitchen, finding his coffee cup where he had left it. Agatha was at the table, eating her dinner, and she met his gaze. She wanted him to join her, why she hadn't taken his cup to the sink. But then he'd left it there; had he been hoping for another chance to spill his guts?

That thought made him twitch, but he sat, then sighed, fiddling with the cup's handle. Previously he had confided to Agatha about his mother, Seth, and work. But with work, it had never been more than a manner in which to vent about unreasonable clients or overbearing collectors. Often it wasn't more than gossip, which Stanford wouldn't have permitted with anyone other than Laurie or his parents. Yet it hadn't been his parents for years; Agatha was Stanford's sole female confidant. But did he trust her enough to speak of such an intimate notion?

This seemed just as sensitive as if he needed to bare his soul about Laurie. His soul.... Stanford huffed. "When you're finished in here, feel free to leave early. I'll put the stew away and...."

To his shock, Agatha gripped his hand. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready to."

Their eyes met and Stanford wanted to wrench away from her grasp. But he couldn't move, could barely breathe. Then Agatha released him and only then did Stanford take a breath. The air was cold going down his windpipe, the rush of it into his lungs making him jerk. He inhaled again, feeling a hint of that forced action, then again, but now it was the simple smoothness of an involuntary organ doing its job. As air flowed in, then out again, peace returned within him. Then he nodded at Agatha. "Do as you like. I'm going to retire early."

She raised her eyebrows, but didn't speak, nodding her head. Suddenly all within Stanford was set right, how had it seemed so wrong? Of course Eric would sell more paintings. The prices would continue to skyrocket, which made Stanford's heart pound. They were only paintings, even if Lynne was the focus, or maybe Jane or....

A sick dizziness rushed through him, making Stanford grip the sides of the table. He shut his eyes, wishing the world would stop spinning, wishing Agatha would again grasp his hand and that Laurie was clutching the other. But no one came to his aid and the swirling didn't stop until finally Agatha spoke. "Stanford, do you want to talk about this?"

He shook his head, for there was nothing to discuss. But the nausea persisted, as well as the lightheadedness, Stanford couldn't stop them. He couldn't get the image of Jane and that Polish pastor from his mind, or Lynne on the stool, or any of Eric's most valuable canvases, the blue barn flashing in Stanford's head. None of those would ever be sold, they couldn't be. They were the essence of Eric's, of his, of that man's.... Eric's soul was encased within those layers of paint, carefully laid across canvas, now burning a hole in Stanford's queasy stomach. Did he have an ulcer, was that from where all of this stemmed?

The next thing Stanford knew was a glass of Alka-Seltzer bubbling near his lips. "Drink this," Agatha ordered. Stanford took small sips that weren't as delicious as her coffee. But hopefully this concoction would offer some relief. He drank most of it, then slumped back in his seat, still unwell. Agatha again sat across from him, but now lines etched her forehead, framing her mouth. He ached for her anguish, which was unmistakable. And for the first time, he realized, he had caused her such pain.

She was pained, but not at him. "Thank you," he mumbled. "I'm not sure what happened just now."

She clasped his hand in hers, which made him shiver. "I'm sure you do know. But that's for you to sort."

He gazed at her quizzically, but again she raised her eyebrows. Then she stood, smoothing down the wrinkles in her apron. "You know, I am gonna leave early. Laurie'll be home eventually, he can look after you." She glanced at the stove, then back to Stanford. "Shall I put the stew away?"

"Yes please," he stammered.

She nodded, then did so. Stanford watched her the whole time, then ached as she stood beside him, saying goodbye. He wished to escort her to the door, but was too weak to stand. Instead he remained at the kitchen table, hearing her footsteps as she walked through the dining room. Those footsteps grew fainter until Stanford could hear them no more.
Chapter 85

Fran Canfield woke to the solid snores of her husband. It was Christmas Eve; it was also six in the morning. Fran had hoped to sleep in a little later, only that by midnight she would be falling asleep in her seat. Louie promised they would get to church early enough to sit in a pew. Now she had the ammunition to hold him to it as she got out of bed, rubbing her tired eyes.

By seven, all of her children were awake, but Louie was still in bed, which made the younger kids giggle. Sally had given her mother a curious look, although Fran hadn't answered her daughter either by a glance or with words. Some things, Fran allowed, were just between spouses. Besides, Sally would understand later when it was her father rousing kids into the car for mass while Fran quietly toted Helene or simply held that girl's hand. It would be Louie to holler they were going to be late, leaving a mother to say little. And by the time they got home, it would be Louie assembling whatever Santa was supposed to leave behind as Fran tucked their youngest offspring into bed. Fran would fill stockings, but that would take only minutes, while Louie cursed under his breath. Fran would even be awake, for only she would hear his hushed annoyance, all seven kids worn out from what felt like the longest day of the year. Was it made longer by midnight mass, Fran wondered, as she fixed more breakfast for her brood. At least Jane Snyder wouldn't be out that late. Fran knew that Lynne and Eric's church held their Christmas Eve service at seven p.m., which to Fran made more sense for families with a little or a lot of kids.

But midnight mass was all Fran had known, Louie too, and attendance was taken for granted. Yet that year Fran would be happy to skip it, allowing her entire family a little more rest. As Louie could be heard coming downstairs, Johnny yelled that Daddy was awake. The little boy scrambled from his chair, meeting his father as Louie entered the kitchen. Only Fran saw her husband's red eyes and the shine of tears on his hastily wiped face. The rest teased that Louie was the last one out of bed and he took their ribbing gracefully, ruffling his sons' hair, kissing the tops of his daughters' heads. He made furtive eye contact with Fran, but she took no offense. If he'd given her any more attention, he might have had to return upstairs.

As breakfast wound down for the kids, Fran started eggs for her husband. Sally helped Helene from a tall seat that all the Canfield kids had used once a high chair was outgrown. Then the eldest led her youngest sibling from the room, tactfully closing the kitchen door behind her. Fran could hear them crowded around the tree, wondering who was getting what, and from the very youngest, what might Santa bring? Only Brad, Johnny and Helene still believed, and perhaps Bradley, nearly eight years old, might only have another year or two left. But with Helene not even three, Louie would be putting together bikes and dollhouses for several more Christmases.

Fran buttered toast, then took the eggs from the skillet. She set the plate in front of her husband, who was nursing his second cup of coffee. Sally had poured her father the first cup, then Will had refilled it, both teens taking those tasks without being asked. Maybe they had seen their father's disheveled face, perhaps they knew. And just maybe, Fran permitted, they would skip midnight mass that night. No one would blame them, not after everything that had occurred. Fran sat beside her husband, her own coffee cup in hand. Then she stroked Louie's left arm, trying to catch his gaze.

When he finally looked at her, Fran nearly choked. Tears rolled down his face and she handed him a bunched-up napkin, the closest thing she could reach. He wiped his cheeks, then smiled at her, gripping her hand. "I love you," he said, then he cleared his throat. "Merry Christmas baby."

She nodded, then started to smile; his words, while mumbled, were said in a defiant tone. For the last two weeks Louie had been short-tempered, the strain of what 1962 had wrought for their family evident. Now he cried openly, which never happened, but Frannie was glad. He needed to let this go, or to start releasing it. He was much like Sam, which she had never said to anyone, for nobody would have understood. Frances Ahern Canfield had married a man similar to her younger brother, for how deeply those men felt the pain around them. Neither wore their hearts on their sleeves, but that didn't mean their hearts were stone. Louie hadn't wanted more children, but he also hadn't been able to refrain from making love to his wife. Now Fran took her weeping husband into her arms, unbothered if one of the kids happened to burst into the kitchen. Maybe it would be good for them to see that sometimes a man did break down. The only one who might be upset was Johnny, but then all Fran would have to say was that Daddy missed the twins. Helene had no grasp on what had occurred in summer, but Johnny remembered, sometimes he brought it up with his mother. Yet as Fran predicted, nobody intruded. Maybe Sally and Will had heard their father's sorrow, taking everyone upstairs. Whatever the case, Fran comforted her husband, forgetting her slight irritation from the morning. If they made it to church that night, wonderful. If not, there was always next year.

Lynne thought that Jane had undergone another growth spurt; toting that girl up for a nap, Lynne's lower back ached, then a mother pondered the nature of that pain. Jane was nearly asleep as Lynne closed the nursery door. Then Lynne went to her bathroom. Sure enough, she was starting her period.

Taking a deep breath, Lynne changed her underwear, then marked an X on her bedroom calendar. Since the beginning of November, this was only her second cycle, but maybe it would take longer than a few months to return to a predicable schedule. Lynne's heart ached as well as her abdomen, for she had wondered if perhaps she was pregnant. Now she went to tell Eric the news.

He took it well, she thought, but both had been so happy for the Aherns that maybe they hadn't expected to fall in line with adding to their family. Lynne had also been considering the Canfields, and again, perhaps it was best to look ahead to 1963. In the kitchen, Lynne consoled herself with that notion, then she sat at the table, wiping away a few tears.

Holiday decorations embellished the usual furnishings, making Lynne smile. She couldn't rue her cycle, for this year was so different from anything that had come before. Before made her giggle, she couldn't help it, but a few more tears fell too. Lynne sighed, reaching for a napkin, then blowing her nose. The Aherns were coming for supper tomorrow, so was Marek. She would see her pastor later that evening at St. Matthew's. Unless Lynne couldn't walk, she was going to church that night, so much to be thankful for.

Eric found her sipping coffee and he poured his own cup, then joined her at the table. He squeezed her hand, but didn't speak, although his eyes were misty. Lynne wondered if that was from her news or in how altered were their lives compared to all their previous Christmases. Jane might be sleeping, but she was reflected in the new decorations, the gift-laden tree, and in the fullness of Lynne's joyful heart. Another baby would come, Lynne didn't doubt that. It would simply happen when the time was right.

Lynne wished to say that aloud, not for Eric's benefit, but to assure him that she wasn't worried. It had taken several months after his long absence, but Lynne hadn't even considered such a miracle was possible. Now that conception was feasible, Lynne wouldn't ruminate about when. She smiled, gripping Eric's hand. God had given this man back to her and at the best time he would bless them with another child. "I wonder how Sam and Renee are this morning," Lynne said.

Eric blinked, then sighed. "Fine, I'm sure. Been thinking about Fran and Louie, to tell you the truth."

Lynne nodded. "Me too. That was so nice of them to send Jane a gift."

Now Eric smiled. "She's got a lot of presents under that tree."

"I think they're all for her," Lynne chuckled.

"Oh, a few are for her mother, I believe." Eric inhaled, then kissed the back of Lynne's hand. "I sure love you."

"I love you too. I thought about giving them a call, Fran, you know. But I'll wait. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. I'm sure they're busy today and...."

Eric nodded, then scooted closer to his wife. Lynne leaned toward him, glad for his embrace. This time last year he was so sick, but she hadn't felt at all anxious, which now that she considered it was quite a feat. Her nursing instincts had been overridden by the most intangible and powerful force she had ever encountered. It hadn't even been trumped by giving birth, although that had come darn close. Then Lynne laughed. Perhaps the birth of her true faith was a necessary precursor to having a child. Maybe next time, Lynne would seek some sort of pain relief.

Next time made her shiver, then that question was erased by Eric's soft kisses along her forehead. He'd smoothed back her hair, his touch so peaceful, also sensuous. Yet he didn't mean to entice her, they wouldn't be intimate for days. It was to reassure her, or maybe himself, that their affections were as strong as ever. Lynne nestled against him; last Christmas she had been the resilient one, but now Eric supported her as Lynne began to cry. Her tears weren't born of sorrow, but sprung from gratefulness for myriad people and things. Lynne expended her emotions, then laughed at herself. "My goodness, what a moody wife you have."

"Once a month, whether we need it or not."

Eric's tone was light, which made Lynne smile. "I guess we're looking at a 1964 baby."

"Hey now, it's not too late for a 1963 addition."

"Well no, but probably in '64." Maybe that was better, Lynne allowed, giving the Canfields space, and the Aherns too. Perhaps it was far better for Renee and Sam to grasp parenthood before the Snyders added.... Lynne pulled away from Eric, a crafty smile on her face. "Paint me," she murmured.

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now." Lynne leaned against the back of her chair. Then she stretched out her arms, but didn't look up, nor close her eyes. She gazed intently at her husband, who nodded back at her.

"Don't move a muscle." Eric stood from the table. He was gone for a minute, returning with his sketchpad. Lynne's only actions were to breathe or blink, but her arms didn't grow weary, she was now accustomed to holding a pose. And this position, while slightly altered from when she was seated on the stool in the studio, was similar enough. Within ten minutes Eric handed her the pad, which she took, stretching her neck as she did so. Then she gasped, for what Eric had drawn was an image reminiscent of one far more sacrosanct. Lynne shivered, then tried to tear the sheet in half. Only Eric's quick effort, snatching the paper from her hands, kept it from being ripped in two. "What're you doing?" he said softly. "Lynne?"

"Not that way," she nearly cried. Then she did burst into tears.

"What way?" Eric gazed at the drawing, then sucked in his breath. "Oh Lynne, my God no, I didn't mean...."

He set the paper on the table, then brought her into his arms. She wept hard, wondering why on that day Eric had chosen to depict her in such a manner. To Lynne, Jesus was an infant, perhaps why she'd been thinking maybe she was pregnant. But her outstretched arms hearkened more to the man of Easter, one hung to die. Eric hadn't given her a broad smile, but a solemn countenance, her gaze piercing. Yet she was human, a woman, a mother. That pose was only for a deity, the reason for celebrating that day.

Once she was calm, Lynne inhaled deeply as Eric whispered that he was sorry. She stroked his face, then gazed at the paper lying in the middle of the table. "Don't paint me that way," she said. Then she looked at him. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Nothing obvious, but maybe...." He sighed, then picked up the sheet. He stared at it for seconds, then began to fold it in half. Lynne stopped him, but didn't gaze at his work. She would never forget it, not as long as she lived.

Instead she took it from his hand, then placed it in a cupboard in the far corner of the kitchen. She closed the cupboard, then stood behind her husband, working knots from his shoulders. Neither spoke, but Eric gripped her hands, then kissed her knuckles. Lynne closed her eyes, seeking God's forgiveness. For what, she wasn't sure.

By mid-afternoon, Sam was antsy; Sister Harriet had assured the Aherns that by Friday the twenty-first a date would be set for Robbie to leave St. Joseph's. The final papers wouldn't be signed until sometime in January and while Robbie wouldn't spend Christmas Day with his new parents, at least those parents would have an idea of when that little boy would make their house his home. Over the weekend, with no news forthcoming, Sam had been patient while Renee had stewed. Fortunately, she'd also had to work, so her apprehension was only apparent to Sam in the evenings. How she had been at the hospital, he hadn't asked.

Now more than a few days had passed and Sam wondered how women waited out that last week of pregnancy. Or what about those who went past their due date? He was itching to know about Robbie, had considered calling St. Joseph's, but the nuns had their hands full without someone bothering them. Yet, Renee was starting to climb the walls, which spurred Sam's anxiety. Why was Sister Harriet dithering?

Maybe Robbie had changed his mind; perhaps the little boy decided it was better to stay where he was than risk leaving the only home he knew. Were children given that much leeway, Sam pondered, sitting at his kitchen table, staring at a half-full cup of coffee. He heard Renee fussing about the tree; a dozen times she had rearranged the ornaments and Sam had noted all her altered handiworks. Yet the damn tree still looked like it had the first time she had placed everything on the branches. It looked like every other Christmas tree they had ever shared together.

Sam stared at the phone, then he sighed. He grasped the mug, tried a sip, but the contents had grown cold. He stood, heading to the sink, then he stopped, hearing Renee's sniffle. Sam put the mug on the counter, then moved swiftly into the living room, where he found his wife in a heap on the carpet just two feet from the tree.

He joined her there, but Renee was inconsolable. Sam ached for her sorrow, but he was also slightly irritated; why was she being so maudlin? "Honey, it's okay. Renee, baby, oh Renee...." His anger dissipated for her tears emanated from a place deep inside her. Rare were the times she cried that hard, but Sam knew the sound, in part that she had just wept that way in summer. This time his heart was soft toward her, unlike his bitterness from earlier in the year. Sam would never again feel that way about his wife, or anyone else. The cost had almost killed him.

He stood, then helped her do the same. They went to the sofa where Renee collapsed against him. He wanted to ask what had brought on this flood, but in no way was she able to speak, and even if she could, it would probably be nothing she might accurately describe. Maybe she was due to start her period, then Sam frowned. She had just gotten it a couple of weeks ago; maybe motherhood was messing up her cycles. Or had she been thinking about Frannie, which made Sam inwardly flinch. The Canfields weren't going to mass that night; Sam had called them after lunch, speaking with his sister. Louie wasn't up to it, Fran had said explicitly. Usually Frannie wasn't that blunt, but Sam wondered if that was for his benefit. It was her tone, very much that of an older sister, but hedged in love. Sam had told her they were all in his prayers and Fran had thanked him as kids hollered in the background. Sam had let her go, for she was busy, and he didn't need further explanations.

The Aherns had planned on going to church, so much to celebrate, but now Sam had to wonder. If Sister Harriet didn't call that day, chances were slim she would call tomorrow, and then it would nearly be a week since they were supposed to know exactly when Robbie was coming.... Sam didn't permit the word home into his head, but it was wedged in his heart the same way he'd felt in Korea, wondering when he would again see the still quivering woman in his grasp. Renee wasn't crying, but she trembled so badly that Sam squeezed her hard.

"Ow," she exclaimed. "Sam, not so strong."

"Oh, sorry honey." He pulled back, but didn't get far as Renee burrowed against his chest. Then he gripped her, but more gently than before.

She took a deep breath, then looked up. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just a mess right now."

He stroked hairs from her forehead, then kissed her brow. "We've got a lot to think about."

She nodded, then stared at the tree. "I was just fiddling with the ornaments, you must think I've lost my mind this year. But every time I see them, I find one's too close to another, or they're all the same in one area. Silly, I guess, 'cause it's just us and...."

Her voice had dropped significantly when she said us, making Sam tune out the rest of the sentence. Us sounded solitary, and definite. But it wasn't going to be only them. They had a little boy waiting for some rather busy nuns to simply say the word. What in the world was taking those sisters so long?

Just then the phone rang. Sam flinched, so did Renee. They stared at each other, then both stood from the sofa, nearly running into the kitchen. Sam permitted one more ring, then he answered. "Hello?"

"Oh good afternoon Mr. Ahern. This's Sister Harriet, from St. Joseph's."

Sam lifted the receiver from his ear, wanting Renee to hear as much as possible. "Merry Christmas Eve Sister Harriet." Sam smiled, feeling a ten-ton weight fall from his shoulders. "We've been, uh...." He nearly said waiting for your call, but didn't want to appear that desperate. "How are you Sister?"

"Fine. I realize you've been waiting and I do apologize for the delay. There's been an, um, unexpected fly in the ointment. Again, I am so sorry for only getting back to you now."

As Sam heard those words, he gazed at his wife, her eyes wide, her mouth turning into a smile. Yet, Sam grimaced. It was the manner in which the nun was excusing her belated call; a fly in the ointment, was that how she had phrased it? But more telling to Sam were her next words: only getting back to you now.

Weren't they past that stage? As the sister continued, Sam wasn't hearing her, he was looking at his wife; her eyes were closed, her smile gone. Renee's face was ashen, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then Sam focused on the phone, set between his and Renee's heads. Renee had heard the news, which to Sam must not be at all good, especially if the nun was just now getting back to them. A fly in the ointment, he recalled. What sort of fly would cause his beautiful wife to once again weep so hard?

"Pardon me Sister, I didn't hear that last bit. What's come up?"

Now Sam pressed the receiver close to his own ear, for he needed to pay attention, he had to hear about this pesky fly, this problem. Even on Christmas Eve, nothing was perfect, what with Mary and Joseph stuck in the manger as their child approached. Last Christmas Eve Sam had nearly gone out of his mind worrying about Eric and Lynne. But this year, it was going to be different. Sam knew exactly that man's whereabouts. Louie wasn't doing so well, but that was to be expected. Frannie was okay, she was alive, thanks be to God. Fran was alive and Eric was home but Robbie, there was something about Robbie....

"So at this point, we have to honor his grandmother's request. We realize this's a very hard situation for you and Mrs. Ahern, and I will tell you that Robbie is, well, he's confused, the poor lad. He's grown quite fond of you and your wife, and doesn't understand that we have to give his blood relatives first priority. Now Mr. Ahern, please be assured that Robbie won't be automatically handed over to them. We vet every prospective parent the same, there's no special allowances given to family members. But we have to follow the law, which clearly states that Robbie's paternal relatives have a legal claim on the boy."

"The boy," Sam repeated, his voice flat. "He's supposed to be our son Sister."

"Oh Mr. Ahern I know, and again, I am so, so sorry to break this news, especially today. We've been hoping that his grandmother was going to, well, change her mind. But we received a letter today from her attorney. At this point, we can't promise you and your wife anything regarding the pending adoption."

A swirling rage built in Sam's gut, anger he hadn't felt since the day in the Snyders' kitchen when facing the unreal notion of what Lynne believed about her husband. That had been what most grated on Sam's nerves; for some godforsaken reason Lynne believed the story she'd told Renee. But this was worse, for Sam hadn't been married to Lynne. Sam was married to Renee, who had fallen in love with Robbie, Robbie Carver. Carver was his last name and his father's mother, Bernice Carver, had just now tracked down her grandson. Sam hadn't been paying attention, or maybe Sister Harriet hadn't revealed all the details. But someone related to Robbie was asserting a familial claim. Where had that woman been years ago, Sam wanted to scream. And why had she found him now, right before Sam and Renee were ready to bring him....

What was home, Sam wondered, as he said goodbye to Sister Harriet, not hearing her anguished tone. What was home, Sam continued to ponder, while he hung up the receiver which felt like an icy weight in his hand. What was home, when Sam's precious wife was a sodden mess in his arms. Home was merely a house, nothing special, nothing permanent. The tree in the other room would be gone within.... Sam wanted to chuck it right out the front door, but at that moment his main concern was the wailing woman near to collapse. Sam led Renee from the kitchen straight to their bedroom, placing her on her side. As she bellowed, Sam laid himself all along her shaking frame. She wept and wept, and he did too, but his tears were a hot brand along his face while hers felt like the coldest winter storm. He wondered how that was possible, easier to consider than what had happened that afternoon. That day, Christmas Eve of all days, their cozy loving home had been blown apart like a hurricane had hit. This dwelling was merely a shell, what with most of Eric's paintings missing, no child....

It took ages for Renee to settle, although occasionally she choked. Sam wasn't surprised, for she had cried harder than ever in her life. Maybe as a child she had wailed that profoundly, over what Sam wouldn't hazard a guess. But as an adult, Renee had never broken down so thoroughly. All of her adult life had been spent as his wife, which now made Sam feel very old. They were old, no getting past it; he was thirty-five, she was thirty-four. Maybe that was too old to start something too damn precarious for Sam's liking. They had been so close, presents for Robbie waiting under the tree. Sam had been nervous when Renee asked if she could wrap the gifts they had chosen together, but then he had relented, for it was Christmas and all had seemed so.... It had appeared right, but they had been wrong. Robbie had relatives looking for him; he had a family, but it wasn't Renee and Sam.
Chapter 86

The Eric Snyder retrospective opened in London on the tenth of January, but the weather was brutally cold in England and over much of Europe. Still many art patrons flocked to the gallery, in part that the painter's canvases evoked such warmth. The blue barn garnered much of the press, but then so did the nudes of the artist's wife, and those camouflaged as nature scenes. Eric was pleased for the stunning reviews, but they were dampened by the heartache still suffered by Sam and Renee. By the time the exhibit opened, Robbie Carver had been removed from St. Joseph's to live with his paternal grandmother in the southeast.

Eric and Sam hadn't spoken much about it, other than the basics. Lynne and Renee had talked about it extensively. Renee had taken a break from work, and honestly, she told Lynne, she wasn't sure she could return to the hospital. Too many gossips, she had claimed, and Lynne completely understood. Renee might look for work with a private doctor and while the job wouldn't be nearly as challenging, it would resonate in a small office with only a few other women, and one man in charge. Renee was tired of answering to several physicians and if there happened to be a vacancy at Eleanor Salter's practice, Renee would consider working for free.

Sam was tempted to sell their landscape if Renee felt unable to go back at all, but both Aherns were thrilled by their Christmas gift from Eric, a canvas depicting boysenberry vines at the height of summer. Fat purple berries burst from the painting amid lush green leaves and thorny vines. That painting hung where the three hawks had resided, but the room looked odd to Renee, only that canvas and the landscape. Christmas decorations had been removed on St. Stephen's Day, and the gifts for Robbie had been taken to St. Joseph's by Eric and Lynne, while Sam and Renee watched Jane. None of the adults were certain if the clothes and toys actually went to the little boy; maybe it would have been too painful. But some child, or children, were benefitting from them and since then, Renee had decided adoption wasn't for her and Sam. Trying to have a family was too risky, she had told her mother and sisters, which included Lynne. Renee assumed Sam agreed with her; he hadn't said anything to the contrary.

The couple had discussed her work sabbatical and his continued presence at the VA hospital. They spoke about their families, the new painting, and that cold spell in England, which didn't seem to affect the crowds flocking to Eric's show. They talked about church, the Snyders' new boysenberry plants, and Lynne's pies, which were always delicious even if that Polish pastor happened to stop by. They chatted about Stanford and Laurie and even Seth, who according to Laurie was sculpting again. Stanford however didn't seem to be pestering Eric like before, which Sam had learned from Eric, then shared with Renee. Renee added that Stanford's mother was ailing, the news via Lynne's letters from Laurie. Renee didn't have much practical thought toward that problem, elderly care wasn't her specialty. But both Aherns were concerned about Stanford's father and Renee wrote a note to Michael, expressing her and Sam's thoughts and that they sent their prayers on behalf of Constance and the rest of Michael's family.

But by late January, the Aherns had run out of things to talk about, when it was just the two of them. Renee had given her notice at the hospital, but had decided against seeking a place at Dr. Salter's office. Renee no longer wanted to work around pregnant women or small children. She applied at a retirement home, having received a touching reply from Michael about the quality of care his wife was receiving. But when Renee went for her interview, she spoke to a dour young man who contemptuously noted that this was a place where people went to die. So disturbed by his callous attitude, Renee rescinded her application, even going so far as to seek out that man's superior. But the administrator told her much the same and while Renee was grateful Constance's facility was good for her, this place wasn't right for Renee.

It wasn't good for any of the unlucky senior citizens who dwelled there, she told her husband, Lynne, and Eric. She even complained to her relatives, but her rants were taken with a grain of salt, for since Christmas, Renee's brassiness had been replaced with petulance, bordering on bitterness. Only around the youngest in her sphere did Renee's soft heart return; she was gentle with Jane, Johnny, and Helene, but toward Sally Renee had become snappish, admonishing that teenager to watch herself, for she was acting out of turn. It took great restraint from adults to tell Renee the very same thing.

Sam had no way to reprimand his wife, for her aching sorrow still echoed in his head. If he hadn't waited in fall, perhaps they would have found Robbie before his grandmother located him. Renee never brought that up, but Sam was sure she considered it, how could she not? Sam had put off what would have brought his wife the biggest joy and now she was altered, perhaps he would never have that Renee again in his midst. He discussed that with Frannie, only because Frannie noted Renee's crabbiness. But Sam didn't wish to fully address his wife's changed demeanor, especially around Fran. If Sam did, the true reason might emerge, and what would Sam say then?

In early February, the bitter cold lingered in Great Britain; the Big Freeze it was being called. Britons who had managed to brave the snow and icy temperatures were sorry to see Eric's paintings leave the museum, heading next to France. Renee found a job working as a doctor's assistant in a relatively small practice on the outskirts of town, not far from the Snyders. She stopped by, having coffee with Lynne, noting that the patients were mostly older, only a few young families. The women spoke about the record cold temperatures in Europe, but their weather wasn't overly unpleasant. Jane could stand alone, and seemed itching to take her first steps. But Lynne noticed that Renee's previous excitement concerning her goddaughter was tempered. Renee might give Jane a quick cuddle, but after the expected greetings, Jane was set on the floor, crawling away from her Auntie Renee.

It wasn't like that when Sam visited, which Lynne and Eric remarked upon; Sam required contact with his godchild, for if he wasn't counseling vets, he was eating pie at the Snyders', chasing after Jane. Lynne and Eric spoke about this modification between the couple, wondering how long Renee would harbor her pain.

One afternoon in late February, Eric chatted with Stanford, who seemed in a similar state of denial as Renee; while Stanford related details about the exhibit, the dealer never asked if Eric was painting. Sometimes Eric brought it up, this portrait of Jane and Lynne, or that painting of their soggy garden. But that day, Stanford had strange news; an American poet, a woman even, had killed herself in London. One of Laurie's clients knew her, Sylvia Plath was her name. While Stanford hadn't read any of her work, he'd been appalled that she'd left behind two small children, one not much older than Jane. Allegedly the poet had been separated from her husband, but Stanford knew little else. Maybe the horrendous weather had played a part, he mused. Eric heard other issues in Stanford's tone, but Eric didn't wish to mention Stanford's weakening mother or Seth. The conversation ended on a low note, although Stanford hoped to see the Snyders in April. Eric assured him that was still the plan. Then Eric went looking for his wife and daughter.

Lynne and Jane were playing in the nursery. As Eric stepped over blocks and books, his heart was seized with a sharp pain. He knew nothing of this poet, but one of her children was Jane's age. Jane spied her father, then crawled from her mother, getting to her feet. Then she looked around, bemused. Eric couldn't help his smile, but he didn't approach her, wondering what Jane would do.

She wasn't sure either, for she liked viewing her world from a different perspective. Yet, she was immobile on her feet, and she stretched out her arms, for balance, Eric quietly noted to Lynne. Neither parent said any more, not wishing to hamper their child's decision. Jane seemed eager to take a step, she was eleven months old. Just as she tried putting one foot in front of the other, she shook, then was scooped into her father's arms.

Lynne stood, then joined them. "She's never gonna learn that way." Then Lynne gazed at her husband. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Eric caressed Lynne's face; they still weren't pregnant, although her cycles were now back to normal. Jane rarely nursed, too busy exploring her world, which included the stairs when parents were feeling brave. Eric wanted to share what Stanford had revealed, but it seemed wrong to do so with Jane close. Then he shook his head. "Some American poet killed herself in London a few weeks ago. Stanford just told me about it."

"Did he know her?"

Eric sighed. "No, but one of Laurie's clients did." Then Eric revealed the entire story, making his wife seek his embrace. Jane didn't mind, although she began to giggle. Eric wondered if she thought it was a game, the way Mommy hid her face. Then Jane grew bored, trying to wriggle from her father's grasp. He set her down, then walked to the open door. Eric closed it, then led Lynne to the rocker, where she sat with a plop.

Eric joined his daughter on the floor and Jane crawled to his lap. Eric cuddled her, gazing upwards at his wife. Lynne brushed tears from her eyes, but still they flowed. Eric searched his pockets, but he had no handkerchief. Lynne reached for a cloth diaper from the stack, wiping her face, even blowing her nose. But a diaper was thicker than a hankie, and she sighed, placing it back on the changing table. "My goodness, how absolutely horrible," she said. "Did he say anything else?"

Eric knew she meant about the poet, but Stanford hadn't talked much about art either. "Just that she was separated from her husband. I suppose he's English, but Stan didn't say."

Lynne stood, then sat beside Eric. A mother stroked her baby's hair, then Lynne looked at her husband. "If something happened to one of us, she'd never remember this. All your paintings wouldn't mean a thing, it'd be lost, all these days, this very moment." Then Lynne sighed. "I wonder if Robbie will remember Renee and Sam."

"He might." Eric had pondered that, alongside the paintings he'd dreamed of creating, Renee and a little boy, and maybe even Sam too. "But you're right, about Jane." Eric kissed her head, then tickled her chin. She giggled, then started toward her mother. "I'm just glad I haven't...."

Lynne nodded as the baby nestled into her mother's lap. "But you'll come home. This woman won't. What was her name again?"

"Plath, Sylvia Plath."

"Plath," Lynne mumbled. "What in God's name could make her do such a thing? I mean, if she and her husband weren't getting along, but then, who knows." Lynne gazed at Eric, then to the window, a bright blue sky in their view. "The weather's been so miserable over there, maybe that had something to do with it."

"Maybe." Eric put his arm around his wife. "Stan brought it up a little randomly. I think he was trying to find something to talk about other than art."

"Yeah, I guess." Lynne leaned against her husband. "Was he sure she, you know...."

Eric nodded. "He didn't say how he knew, but it was by her own hand."

"Hmmm. Well...." Lynne shook her head. "Eric, I love you. I'll pray for her family, her...." Lynne gasped. "Oh dear lord, her children are just babies, they'll never know her, how terrible!"

Now Lynne began to cry. Jane had been falling asleep, but she stirred, then whimpered. Eric tried to console both females, but it was difficult. Then Lynne handed Jane to her father. A mother stood from the floor, grabbing that used diaper, again wiping her face. Then Lynne sat in the rocker, motioning for Eric to hand her their baby.

He did so, then went to his knees as Lynne set Jane over her shoulder, soothing her. Eric considered his wife's words, that he would come home. And indeed, he would endeavor to accomplish that task. But not every family managed to stay in one piece. And some families.... He wouldn't mention this to Sam, no purpose. But Eric couldn't get Robbie from his mind. He'd never seen the little boy, but Renee had described him many times, and Eric had a mental image which he had considered sketching, just to get it from his head. But what reason would there be to draw that child now, other than to satisfy Eric's curiosity.

Maybe he could show the drawing to Renee, trying to release her from the shield she had placed around her heart. Just as Sam had come to terms with his demons, one day Renee would need to do the same. Not yet, Eric allowed, it was too soon. But that poet in England had felt unable to live even for her own children. Depression was real; Sam dealt with it every time he spoke to a vet. Seth had found some solid ground, but Laurie wasn't certain it would last. Now Stanford seemed haunted by a lingering malaise, but Eric didn't think Stan would take such drastic measures. He had Laurie, and a lot of pride, which made Eric smile. Thank goodness for that, Eric then thought.

"What?" Lynne asked. "What're you thinking?"

He stood, then gazed out the window. Blue skies weren't indicative of the season, but the garden was stripped bare. "Stanford has a lot of pride," Eric began. Then he paused. "I'm gonna talk to Sam, about Renee."

Eric turned back, finding his wife nodding her head. "You should do that. I've tried talking to her, she's pretty prideful too, though not as much as your art dealer."

Eric nodded, relieved that Lynne seemed aware of his meaning. He didn't want to speak about it, not due to Jane, but it seemed ominous, although Eric wasn't sure why. Perhaps only because of all Seth had endured, and that maybe Eric was going to be.... Then Eric sighed. Stanford would come out of this funk, Eric had no doubt. Renee would take longer, for her heart had been wrenched out of place and she was still trying to work it back to where it belonged. It would just take time, Eric was certain, for if Sam had changed his mind, then anything was possible.

But Seth troubled Eric, probably because Eric wouldn't need to turn into a hawk on Stanford's behalf, and certainly not for Renee's wellbeing. And if Eric altered form, who knew for how long he would be away? Would Jane remember him and what if Lynne was.... Eric sighed again. If Lynne was pregnant and Eric wasn't here, who would assist her? Renee wasn't in any shape to help. Maybe Lynne would have the baby in a hospital, maybe....

"Eric, come here."

He glanced at his wife, who held their sleeping daughter. He approached them, taking the baby, then laying her in the crib. Then he helped Lynne to her feet. They left the nursery, but remained on the landing. Eric noted the empty bedrooms, then the guest room at the end of the hall. Would that room always be for Stanford and Laurie? Eric smiled at himself, nodding his head. Stanford's current angst was probably tied into his ailing mother, Seth, and maybe even the Aherns' sorrow. Both Stanford and Laurie had been dismayed by that turn of events and rightly so, just as they had been saddened by Fran and Louie's loss. But losses came and went, nothing anyone could do to alter life's pathways.

Eric stroked his wife's hip. Lynne responded, and they kissed for a few minutes. "She'll probably sleep for an hour or more," Lynne whispered.

"Good. Let's go catch forty winks ourselves."

Lynne smiled as Eric led her into their bedroom. He wasn't sure if the doors were locked, nor did he care. At that moment, Eric needed his wife. The couple closed their door, then shut out the rest of the world. They didn't allow reality to intrude until Jane's cries were noted.
Chapter 87

Laurie stepped from the taxi, then avoided slushy puddles as he made his way to his aunt's front door. He didn't need to knock, in part that the Gordon home was as familiar as where he'd grown up, right around the corner. And that both his aunt and Seth were expecting him.

"Aunt Wilma? Hey, anyone here?" Laurie's tone was light, no need to start this visit on a dismal note, although several issues troubled Laurie's heart. Stan's funk continued, Renee and Sam's disappointment lingered, then there was that poet, whose first book The Colossus Laurie had been reading when he found more than a few minutes to himself. Sylvia Plath had an intriguing voice, but in thinking about it like that Laurie had to catch himself; she'd had an interesting way of writing. He didn't know much more about her than what his client had first noted, but for some reason she intruded upon Laurie's thoughts. Then he wished to slap himself as his cousin poked his head through the kitchen doorway. "Just me," Seth said. "Mom had to run to the store."

Why did some succumb to their demons while others remained, Laurie wondered. Laurie's client had known Plath during their university days; Plath had been at Smith, while Clifton Moor was at Boston College. According to Clifton, Sylvia had suffered a breakdown between her junior and senior years. He'd recalled seeing her over that summer as a platinum blonde, but she had returned to school a subtle brunette, her outwardly healed demeanor belying an inner turmoil that years later had resulted in her death. Seth looked composed, standing in the kitchen doorway, his lengthy dark blonde mane pushed to the side. Seth had always kept his hair short, especially after coming home from Korea, but since his time in Vermont he had let it grow. Stan had remarked that Seth needed to visit a barber, but that had been spoken in a jovial tone, before Thanksgiving. Before Thanksgiving and the opening of Eric's show, Laurie sighed inwardly. Prior to those dates Laurie had only one man over whom to fret. Now he had two, although Seth seemed particularly chipper, leaning against the doorframe, a wide smile on his face.

"Well, anything to eat around here?" Laurie grinned back, unsure of his cousin's true mood. Seth's smile was bright, but not altogether honest. Or maybe Laurie wasn't a competent judge anymore. Perhaps Seth was okay; he was there, in that house, and while he looked a bit unkempt, he seemed happy. He would never be the man Laurie had known from childhood, a man so beloved yet.... Ethereal popped into Laurie's head; had Sylvia Plath's family felt that way about her after her college breakdown? Maybe there was no way to gauge that sort of mental health. No guarantees existed, Laurie accepted. All the cousins had was that moment, in that house, just the two of them.

"Anything to eat you say, well, let's see. Mom was working on a chocolate cake when she left, told me not to touch it. Wanna come see if I was listening?"

For a second Laurie froze; that voice was of a man from years before, a little aged, but then Seth wasn't seventeen. If Laurie didn't know better, Seth was trying to fool him, or maybe he was aching for a brief reprieve from wherever he now dwelled. Laurie blinked, then stared at his cousin. They could be twins, well, Seth's long hair needed a good trimming. They took after their maternal grandfather, Isaac Goldsmith, the only male descendants of that man from their generation. Their sisters had brought forth sons, but those boys all looked like their fathers. Laurie would never have a child, might one day Seth meet someone, fall in love, produce an heir? Then Laurie smiled. An heir to what, this house in Brooklyn, alongside Wilma's well-guarded chocolate cake recipe that not even Laurie's mother possessed? It was a bone of contention between the sisters; their mother's recipe had been given to Wilma, the eldest. Laurie's mother Rose had the coconut cake recipe, which she had generously shared with Wilma in hopes to receive the information about that chocolate cake. But Wilma had never reciprocated, and while the sisters were close, Laurie's mother still harbored minor animosity about that slight. Laurie had even taken a piece to Agatha, hoping she could deduce the proper increments of butter, sugar, flour, and of course chocolate. But not even Agatha Morris had been able to replicate the correct ratios. All Agatha wanted to know was if perhaps Mrs. Gordon would share the recipe with her.

Laurie sat at the aged kitchen table, where he'd been eating chocolate cake since he was old enough to remember. Seth cut them each a slice, then brought those plates and cups of coffee to the table, sitting across from Laurie. Laurie took a bite, savoring the intense chocolate icing alongside the light crumbling cake. It wasn't a sponge, Agatha had said, but it was airy, and the frosting was certainly cream-based. But how much chocolate had Mrs. Gordon added, how much butter? It was definitely butter, Agatha had remarked. Cream, chocolate, and butter, but the amounts were only known to one woman who wouldn't even share them with her own sister.

Yet, Wilma made the cake often; Laurie's visit was why the cake had been baked, probably that morning, he thought, for how fresh it tasted and how soft was the ganache icing. Aunt Wilma might refrigerate it in another day or two, if it lasted that long. Laurie wasn't sure it would, for he would take one piece home, for Agatha. Stan wouldn't want any and Laurie wouldn't need another slice anytime soon. He'd only take one and if Stan complained, Laurie would be pleased for the ruckus. Maybe Stan needed that sort of reality, which had little to do with painters. Reality to Laurie was a healthy mix of their Manhattan home and this Brooklyn neighborhood, which meant cake and family gossip and lasting memories. Laurie expected that he'd been eating cake at this table long before Seth came home from the hospital as a newborn. But that moment was etched in Laurie's head as where his conscious life began. Had Aunt Wilma made the cake before she went into labor, he then smiled inwardly. Laurie's mother certainly hadn't baked it while her older sister was in the hospital.

"What?" Seth asked, his mouth full of cake. He swallowed, sipped his coffee, then smiled. "What in the world are you thinking about?"

Again Laurie was caught off guard by Seth's lively tone, as if the last twelve years had been lived by other people. Laurie stared at his cousin, who didn't look anything like a Korean War vet. He didn't look like a man in his early twenties either, he looked.... Laurie bit the inside of his cheek; Seth looked like an artist, with his long hair, that ancient sweater, his thoughtful bearing. He looked like the man he would have been had he not enlisted, hadn't been sent to mental institutions, hadn't nearly killed himself several times over. Was Seth all right, had his declarations at Thanksgiving freed him? Was he, as Aunt Wilma and Laurie's mother cautiously said, cured?

The women in Laurie's family took Seth's return at face value; he was fairly happy, didn't talk about suicide, and he was sculpting. What more did anyone want, they would say, when Laurie, his sisters, or Seth's sisters happened to question Seth's bearing. Laurie had talked with his older sisters and Seth's, and while none of those women were as concerned as Laurie, they all basically agreed with him, which had bolstered Laurie's assumptions, although he hadn't necessarily wished for their support. Laurie hadn't seen Seth since the end of January. What had happened in the last month, Laurie wanted to ask.

In Manhattan, the last month had been fraught with Stan's worsening mood, his mother's declining health, and letters from Lynne, which had been the saving grace, even if the Aherns were still disheartened by their loss. Laurie thought what had happened to them, on Christmas Eve no less, was as awful as what Sam's sister had endured last summer. Or maybe Laurie's childless state permitted such a comparison. The Canfields still had children, many of them, while Sam and Renee's dream had been snatched from their grasp at a time of year which centered on the fantastical visions of youngsters. That was how Laurie had always considered Christmas; eight days of Hanukkah were no match for one night of waiting on Santa Claus, mostly because the gifts Laurie had received were practical presents. Who cared about new pajamas and slippers when other youngsters were getting bikes and roller skates and books and....

This neighborhood was primarily Jewish, but Laurie had gone to public school with enough Gentiles, who always came back from Christmas vacation with tales that made Laurie slightly jealous. As he grew older, the envy decreased; he understood the differences between Jews and Christians, or Jews and everybody else, as his father used to say. But it wasn't meant in an overly religious fashion, only that Jews were different, according to Aaron Abrams. And after World War II, being Jewish, pious or not, carried a distinct pleasure. Hitler had wiped out six million European Jews, but those in America were doing just fine.

Since Thanksgiving, Laurie had considered The Holocaust more deeply than ever in his life. It was due to what Seth had told him, Laurie would admit, which at first had bothered him. The Abrams and Gordons weren't recent Jewish immigrants, and while like everyone else they considered concentration camps an absolute atrocity, other than religion, little had bound them to Jews killed on European soil. Laurie felt more of a tie to homosexuals sent to the gas chambers than he did to those who shared his faith, which he had mentioned to Stan, when Stan felt like talking about what Seth had seen in the blue barn. But those discussions hadn't lasted much past the middle of December. By then, Stan didn't want to hear any more about what Seth saw in the barn, or about The Holocaust. There was no one else Laurie could have discussed it with, well, perhaps with Eric Snyder, but Laurie wasn't going to call Eric to hash out all that. It wouldn't have been appropriate and besides, if Laurie needed to talk about it, Eric and Lynne, and Jane of course, were coming in April. Laurie hoped Jane would lift Stan's mood. If he wasn't better after that, Laurie would threaten him with a psychiatrist. And Laurie wouldn't take no for an answer.

Laurie's thoughts were broken by a spirited chuckle, which turned into hearty laughter, reminding Laurie of their Grandpa Goldsmith. Laurie gazed across the table, finding Seth leaning back in his chair, his plate empty except for a few crumbs. Then Laurie smiled. "You asked me what I was thinking about. Good God, how long ago was that, an hour or two?"

"Several weeks actually. It's nearly May." Seth sat forward, pushing his plate to the side. "You looked a million miles away. But then," Seth paused, brushing a few chocolate crumbs to the floor. "I know what that feels like pretty well."

Laurie nodded, hearing something so familiar in Seth's tone, as if that man wasn't a ghost or a lost soul, but right within Laurie's reach. Yet Laurie stayed in his chair, not wishing to break the spell. For, as he stared at Seth, that notion was fleeting. Seth fidgeted with his hair, then cracked his knuckles. Who was this man, Laurie wondered, some hodge-podge of all that Seth had seen on the battlefield and in various institutions blended with the soul Laurie had bonded with as soon as Aunt Wilma showed off her new baby son.

No one in the Abrams or Gordon families believed that Laurie recalled the day his cousin came home from the hospital. Laurie had only been three, and three-year-olds didn't remember such things. But Laurie did, even on that day, thirty-three years later. Laurie had been seated at this very table, perched on his father's lap, eating Wilma's chocolate cake when Aaron thought Rose wasn't looking. Rose felt Laurie was too young for such rich cake, but Aaron had disagreed. Now Laurie grew teary, hearing his father's constant admonishment that life was short, why not enjoy the good things while they were available? Aaron Abrams loved his sister-in-law's chocolate cake and often teased Wilma to give him the recipe. He promised to never share it with his wife.

On that summer's day in 1929, Aaron fed his youngest bites of cake while the rest of the Gordon clan awaited Wilma and Seth's homecoming. All of Laurie and Seth's older sisters were either cleaning or hovering, depending on their ages. Laurie's mom was cooking, so was the sisters' mother Ruth, while their father Isaac sat in the living room with the men. The house was packed, for great was the excitement that Wilma had given birth to a son. The bris was planned for the following day, although Laurie carried no memory of that event. It was part of the story, one that his father had told him, which was why no one accepted that Laurie remembered as much as he claimed. Aaron loved talking about the day Seth came home, because it was as if the actual Second Coming had occurred. Monroe and Wilma finally had a son, after how many girls, Aaron scoffed, to which his wife rolled her eyes. Only four girls, one less than the Abrams themselves had before Laurie arrived. The other issue that made Aaron smirk was that Wilma hadn't given birth at home as she did with those four girls. Seth had been born in the hospital, but Rose had reminded her husband that Wilma was nearly forty-three. Better for a doctor to deliver what everyone well knew would be the last child for the Gordons. They had their boy and enough was enough.

All those details had been handed down over the years through various relatives. Yet, what a three-year-old knew, and still recalled decades later, were the scents of cake mixed with tobacco and his father's aftershave while happy voices mingled. Then a hush descended as Seth's oldest sister announced her parents' arrival. A roar was stirred as Aaron fed the last bite of cake to Laurie, then toted that boy into the living room. Aaron was taller than most of the Gordons, so Laurie had a good view of his aunt entering the house with something in her arms. Laurie didn't understand all this talk about a new baby, so he didn't pay attention until after everyone else had been introduced to Seth. Finally Aaron and his son stepped to where Rose now cradled her nephew. Laurie peered at the bundle in his mother's grasp, a tiny little person with bright blue eyes. Laurie smiled at the baby, what everybody had been fussing about. That's what a baby looked like, a soft face, no hair, but the bluest eyes in the world.

Now Laurie looked into those eyes; they weren't the color of Sam and Jane's eyes. Seth's were paler, but Laurie didn't wonder what that signified. Yet from that initial introduction, those eyes had meant the world to Laurie, as his mother told him he had a little boy cousin with whom he could play when the baby was older. Laurie had waited a long time for that baby to grow up enough to appreciate the games Laurie loved, but while Laurie had adored sports, Seth preferred quieter pastimes, although he did enjoy playing in the mud, which annoyed both boys' mothers. Laurie would make an utter mess of his clothes and while Seth didn't stay clean, he concentrated on constructing things with the mud. By the time Laurie was ten and Seth was seven, Laurie understood his cousin's gift. Ten years later, Seth was making the figurines that graced Laurie and Stan's library.

Had Sylvia Plath always been a writer, Laurie then wondered. He wanted to interrogate Clifton Moor, then compare Plath's early life with Seth's. Did artists, regardless of their gifts, all start at an early age, and could depression be tracked similarly? When Seth made those figures, he was already starting to show signs of instability, but they were minor compared to when he came back from Korea. Seth's father was dead by then, which was a godsend, according to Laurie's mother. If Monroe Gordon had lived to see the wreckage of his only son, well.... But like Laurie's dad, Seth's had died before those boys were fully men. Laurie could think of it that way, for now he knew that twenty-year-olds weren't actually adults. Neither were twenty-two-year-olds, the age Seth was when he had enlisted. But everyone had been proud of Seth, if not somewhat concerned. Only his mother had openly argued with him, but the rest saw his action as a virile exploit, countering his obsession with sculpting. By then Laurie and Stanford had been together for five years. If Seth wanted to join the army, at least that meant he wasn't a homosexual.

But he came back so altered, as wounded emotionally as Sam Ahern was physically. And his gift had been crushed overseas, which had been as much of a loss to Laurie as Seth's fragile bearing. Only as the years passed did Laurie realize the true horror, for not only did Seth give up sculpting, but he never recovered, no therapist on Earth able to untangle that knotted mass of pain. Not even shock therapy had healed Seth, for as Laurie kept staring at his cousin's eyes, he saw through the jovial mask Seth had donned for that visit. A vast horizon of confusion and dread lingered in Seth's mind, yet how could Laurie see it? He didn't know, but perhaps it was akin to remembering Seth from the first time they'd met. Those eyes had been so blue, wide, and free. In the icy blue of Seth's eyes now, little liberty existed.

Seth tried to look away from Laurie, but something maintained their shared gaze. Laurie wanted to speak to it, but he'd said little since arriving. What was there to say, that in recalling their pasts, all Laurie could conjure was what had been lost. Seth was irretrievable, or the man Seth had been. The witty, gifted sculptor, the introspective but kind cousin, more like a brother. Now in front of Laurie sat a long-haired stranger who happened to know all of Laurie's life, but seemed unable to share in the pleasures. Then Laurie shivered; Stan was turning into a man much the same. Laurie wanted to slam his fists onto the table. Seth was beyond Laurie's reach, but not Stanford.

"Shall I cut a piece for you to take home?" Seth asked, as if Laurie's impending departure had been stated.

Now Seth's tone was like it had been for the last few years; guarded and fearful. He no longer met Laurie's eyes, and he seemed to tremble. But for the first time Laurie didn't rue this alteration. This was what remained of Seth, a fleeting image who could sit across from Laurie, only asking a few questions, not demanding Laurie give him a decent answer. Years ago they would talk about any and everything; now their communication had been reduced to reliving the past. Maybe Laurie needed to forget his earliest memories. They only caused pain.

"Yeah, cut a couple. Agatha always appreciates one and Stan might like one too."

Seth nodded, but didn't look at Laurie. Laurie wasn't bothered, for this was the truth of the situation. For how long had he been hoping Seth would somehow find the inner strength to overcome his depression, yet, merely a shell remained, appearing much like the man Laurie had known and adored nearly all of his life. Only Stanford possessed a greater hold on Laurie's heart, but no longer was this the Seth Laurie had loved. Laurie smiled, but it was hedged in sorrow. Maybe Seth would live to a ripe old age, but perhaps it would have been easier on all of them if he'd been killed in Korea, or if he'd taken his life. That American poet was lost to her family, but her children would never grow up with a figment of who their mother had been. Was that better, Laurie wondered, as Seth placed two slices onto an old plate, then covered it with a piece of wax paper. "Mom's got some covers around here somewhere," Seth said quietly, looking through drawers. He pulled out what looked like a shower cap, although Laurie recognized it immediately. His mom had the same covers, the elastic overstretched but serviceable. This one had been used to protect potato and macaroni salads and whatever leftovers went in the icebox. Laurie smiled; his father had always called it an icebox, but modern appliances were replacing outdated furnishings. Laurie glanced at his cousin; no one could take Seth's place, but Seth's place hadn't been the same in over ten years. A ghost now stood in the Gordon's kitchen, appearing somewhat like the person Laurie remembered, but it wasn't truly him.

Laurie glanced at the clock; it was nearly three, but Aunt Wilma hadn't returned. She was probably at the Abrams', for this visit wasn't meant for more than Laurie and Seth. That evening Laurie's mother would call, asking how he was, how Stanford was, and how were Stanford's parents. They would discuss Constance's ailing condition and how Michael was coping, then at what would seem like nearly the end of the conversation, Rose would clear her throat, inquiring to Laurie's visit with Seth. Everything Laurie said would then be repeated nearly verbatim to Wilma as soon as Rose and her son were off the phone. But what could Laurie tell his mother, for he and Seth had barely exchanged two sentences. Laurie certainly couldn't relate all he'd considered, from that dead American poet to Seth's arrival home from the hospital to the painful but honest realization that all to remain of Seth were those memories. The smiling blonde who had met Laurie when he arrived that afternoon was a visage, maybe as false as the blonde Sylvia Plath who had returned from her own breakdown, then dyeing her hair back to brown to finish her time at Smith College. Or perhaps it was the brunette who was false; maybe that woman had been lost amid whatever had caused her depression, for less than a decade later she was dead.

"Tell Aunt Wilma thanks for the cake and that I'm sorry I missed her." Laurie didn't wish to pretend; he wanted to go home, then have a serious talk with Stanford. It might be brief, but Laurie hoped it would last a good while, for Stanford needed to get much off his chest. It might take several chats, but Laurie wasn't going to lose Stan the way he'd lost.... "It was good to see you today," Laurie then said, for it was the truth. He had to accept this loss, for that's what it was, no different than what the Canfields had suffered, or the Aherns. Death was death, whether literal or figurative.

"Was it good?" Seth spoke softly, then he coughed.

Laurie stared at him, wondering which part of Seth might say such a thing. "It was for me." Laurie then wanted to add that he loved Seth, but perhaps that would be like rubbing salt in the wound.

Seth nodded, then sighed. "Laurie, I meant what I told you at Thanksgiving. That's all I can see, all I know. I don't know anything else anymore."

Laurie nodded, his heart throbbing. He walked to where his cousin stood, then grasped Seth's hands. They were cold, but Laurie wasn't surprised. Encased in ice was Seth's heart, so far within his chest that nothing could penetrate it. And his lovely creative soul was buried beside it, no way for Seth to live without that organ and that, that....

A man's soul was just as important as his heart, lungs, or any other vital organ. Then Laurie smiled, he couldn't help it. He hugged his cousin, surprising Seth, who tried to reciprocate. But Laurie was too excited, flush with a strange hope. He immediately thought about Lynne's letter, which had been all about hope, then Laurie released his cousin, going to the phone in the corner of the kitchen. He called for a taxi, then checked his watch. Then he thought about what he would do that night, or maybe tomorrow, depending on how long he and Stanford talked, and how long his mother kept him on the telephone. Laurie wanted to write to Lynne, and not in his usual style. He would be honest with her, about Seth and about hope. Finally Laurie had hope, although it wasn't connected to the man in that room.

Stanford's soul was still well within Laurie's reach. As for Seth's.... Laurie approached him, wishing to place some of this warm balm into the center of Seth's chest. But no longer was that Laurie's responsibility. Someone else, he mused, would have to take on that enormous task. Laurie had enough of a job in Manhattan, what he told Seth, as they waited for the cab. Seth didn't inquire, but he walked Laurie to the living room, watching for the taxi through the open front curtains. When the cab arrived, honking once, Laurie squeezed Seth's shoulder. Then he spoke. "I love you, you know."

"I, I love you too Laurie." Seth paused, took a deep breath, then stared into Laurie's eyes.

Laurie saw that Seth had something more to tell him. But the cabbie honked again and Seth gazed at the floor. Gripping the plate of cake, Laurie inhaled, then exhaled. "Give Aunt Wilma my love. I'll talk to you soon."

Seth didn't answer, but Laurie didn't mind. He strode toward the taxi, missing the still icy piles of slush. But the chill didn't permeate Laurie; he could smell the delicious chocolate cake, which reminded him of his father's aftershave. Those memories were permitted. The rest had to be left behind.
Chapter 88

On Sunday, March third, with Helene Canfield standing beside her, Jane Snyder took small wobbly steps that led straight to her Uncle Marek. Eric was snapping photographs while Lynne stood behind the pastor, who squatted in the middle of the living room as a host of Fran and Louie's children cheered.

Sam and Renee's absence was the only pall, although later Eric lamented that Stan and Laurie weren't present either. Yet, in another month, Jane would impress them in person, and hopefully by then Stanford's funk might be truly behind him. Laurie had called the Snyders on Friday, reporting that Stan was making improvements, although his mother was nearing the end. Yet Laurie hadn't sounded overly saddened; Eric had detected relief in Laurie's tone, which Lynne noted in Laurie's most recent correspondence. Laurie hadn't minced words to either Snyder, but Jane had been hovering on the edge of full mobility, somewhat distracting her parents from Laurie's revelations. Or their attentions were diverted by the Aherns.

That Sunday, Sam and Renee weren't at work and church was long over. Eric and Lynne assumed the couple was at home, but not even Fran and Louie could give a reason to why Jane's godparents were missing the afternoon's festivities. Lynne had invited the Canfields over for a late lunch and Marek was free, but when calling Renee to join them, Lynne had been met with icy silence, then an abrupt refusal, without any pertinent reason given as an excuse. Lynne hadn't argued, although Eric had then called Sam, gently inquiring. Sam's answer had been as vague as Renee's, which had grieved the Snyders. Now Sam seemed as altered as his previously chipper wife. But other than praying for the Aherns, there was little any of their loved ones could do.

These same guests would return in less than two weeks for Jane's first birthday party. Marek said he had refused other invites for that date, but his brown eyes had twinkled, making several Canfield children giggle. He got along well with each of them, from Helene to Sally, who at nearly sixteen was a copy of her mother, not only in looks. Sally tended to her youngest siblings as well as Fran did, but when Marek spoke to her, Sally responded not as a weary teen but a smiling young lady who found his questions intriguing. Marek seemed ageless to Lynne and her husband, a distinct contrast to Fran and Louie, who looked and acted their forty-plus years. Yes, Marek was just Sam's age, but he conversed with Sally and her brother Will as if their equal, but not in a juvenile manner. And he spoke to Jane in Polish like she was much older than Helene or Johnny. Jane's birthday would include these people, none of whom were related to her, but who clearly constituted her family. If Renee and Sam missed that party, then Lynne and Eric would be disheartened.

But no one mentioned that possibility. As the Canfields readied to leave, Fran asked what she could bring. Lynne replied that only Fran's family was necessary, but Fran shook her head. "No Lynne, I'm talking food. There's nine of us and...."

"Mrs. Canfield, you have a rather important tasking in that alone." Marek smiled, then gently patted Fran's shoulder. "I plan on bringing a little something; you concentrate on these lovely children."

"Not more pie, I assume." Louie joined his wife. "I hear that's not quite up to Lynne's standards."

Marek laughed. "Oh my goodness, bless Mrs. Harmon's heart. No, no pie from me. Actually I want to make some caramel slices, or I'm going to try. They were my favorite English treat, but we'll see how they come out. If I arrive empty-handed, you'll know they were a dismal failure."

Lynne and Eric gazed at each other, noting the jovial exchange between Louie, Fran, and Marek as Sally, Will, and Jaime stood at their parents' sides, also with smiles. Perhaps those older children weren't used to their religious figureheads being so down to earth. Or maybe they didn't see Marek in that way; he'd insisted they call him by his Christian name, as Pastor Jagucki had seemed too formal. Lynne wondered if soon enough this pastor would be Uncle Marek to more than Jane. The Canfield kids had enough uncles and aunts, but two of them had seemed to disappear. Perhaps Marek's inclusion would mask Sam and Renee's absences.

The Canfields departed with Fran still pestering Lynne about what to bring for the party. Other than a gift, which Lynne knew Fran would insist upon, Lynne didn't need anything. She would bake a cake and a pie or two, there would be ice cream as well. But the gathering wouldn't be more elaborate than what they had shared that day, for Jane wouldn't remember any of it. Eric and Lynne weren't getting her extravagant gifts; she needed new clothes, perhaps some books. But she had plenty of toys from Christmas and a few presents had already arrived from Michael Taylor. Laurie said he would send Jane a card, but he wanted to take her to FAO Schwarz in April, and if whatever Jane chose was too big to fit into her parents' luggage, Laurie would simply buy another suitcase for all of Jane's loot.

Eric had laughed at that warning while Lynne had smiled. It had been included at the end of Laurie's last letter, which Lynne read with a new understanding. Laurie wasn't trying to hide anything; Stan was feeling better while Seth was.... He was a time bomb, Laurie had pointedly noted, and while Laurie loved his cousin, no longer could he presume Seth would ever be healed.

The hope that Lynne had wanted to share with Laurie had indeed been accepted, but not on behalf of the man Lynne had wished it. Maybe Stanford's malaise had been worse than Eric and Lynne had understood, and perhaps Laurie was simply accepting his cousin's impairment for what it was. Renee had done that with her husband when Sam came home. Then Lynne's heart ached as she waved goodbye to the Canfields, Eric beside her, Marek on Lynne's other side, Jane in that man's competent hold. Renee's hope was extinguished and perhaps Sam's was too. The last time Sam and Eric had spoken about adoption, Sam had relayed a sliver of anticipation. But Lynne hadn't seen Renee in a few weeks and the Aherns' absence that Sunday spoke of definite closure. No one had mentioned it, but their nonappearance was too blatant. If they didn't attend Jane's birthday party....

Lynne shivered, then took a deep breath. "That was so nice. I guess I'll have to think of something for Fran to bring."

"I think you will," Eric smiled. "I can ask Sam if she has any Ahern family specialty. He can't be the only good cook in that clan."

"Indeed," Marek said. "Maybe it's the Nolans who aren't overly culinary."

Lynne gazed at her pastor; how well had he ingratiated himself into their sphere, knowing Renee's maiden name, or maybe his knowledge was from the Nolan portraits in Eric's show last August. Then Lynne wished to cry; since last August Sam and Renee's lives had been a tumultuous storm. Not that Fran and Louie's world hadn't been rocked to its core, but over six months later there seemed to be little obvious pain. Louie had held Jane, although not for long, for she had wriggled in his grasp, aching to be on her feet. In an indirect manner Fran had asked if Jane might receive a sibling in the coming year. Lynne had smiled, noting that they were hoping to add to their family in God's time. Lynne wasn't pregnant and Eric was starting to tease that their next child was simply waiting for next month, one baby conceived on the West Coast, the next on the East.

Would the Snyders have two children before Sam and Renee had any? Lynne tried to keep tears at bay, but she couldn't, brushing liquid from her eyes. Marek said nothing, but he spoke in Polish which seemed to elicit Jane's attention. Leaving the men and her daughter, Lynne turned for the house, praying for the Aherns with every step.

Two days later, Lynne and Jane met up with Sam at the market. Jane babbled Ma-ma-ma while her mother tried to make small talk, but Sam wasn't receptive. Yet he couldn't keep his eyes from the chatty baby, whom he hadn't seen in a few weeks. Jane looked altered, her hair to her jaw, her features no longer those of an infant. She was almost a year old, Sam knew fully well. And her eyes had never changed from the striking blue that to Sam was like staring into a mirror. She did have his eyes, like he actually was Eric's blood sibling.

Sam left the store before finishing his list, as he didn't want to again bump into the Snyder women. He arrived home, then rued his impatience, for he hadn't bought chops for that night's meal, nor had he gotten the eggs necessary for custard. He still cooked as before, although Renee had lost some weight, and maybe Sam had too. They ate out of necessity, not for the pleasure of previous. She wasn't the same woman and he probably wasn't the same man. But Sam never considered when those roles had changed. Pondering anything from before the start of that year was too damn painful.

He wasn't sure if they would attend Jane's birthday party; he wanted to go, he ached for the pleasant days and weeks that had existed before. Before grated on Sam, for it was a varied delineation: before they had met Robbie, before Fran lost the twins, even before Renee's declaration that had thrown their lives off track. Then Sam had to shake his head, for it wasn't Renee's fault. He had dithered for far too long, and now this was the consequence, no chops for supper or eggs to make dessert. At this rate, Sam and Renee would need new wardrobes; soon nothing would fit them properly.

Once the groceries were put away, Sam took stock of his cupboards. Several necessary items were missing, but he wasn't surprised, for he couldn't think straight anymore. His work at the VA hospital had been shoddy, at least to his high standards, and he hoped that hadn't rubbed off on Renee at her job. She worked full time, although unlike at the hospital, there was no opportunity to earn extra shifts. Not that they needed the money; a healthy nest egg earned interest in their savings account, but Sam had no idea what they would do with it. They could pay off the house, but that held no appeal. Then Sam sighed. He hadn't paid off the house because he secretly hoped Renee would change her mind. He didn't think she would; she'd made no bones about it, that children weren't for them. But now Sam understood his wife's long-held dream, harbored since his return from Korea. All that time Renee had hoped to be a mother. Now Sam desired fatherhood in the same wistful manner.

Maybe this was his punishment for being so obstinate all that time. But Renee was suffering, nothing was fair about that. And what about their godchild? Jane didn't resemble the baby Sam so well remembered from nearly a year ago; he would never forget her puffy eyes and cheeks, the lovely fragrance that had woven into him, healing a modicum of pain. Her eyes were still just as blue, but knowledgeable and aching to learn more. She had wanted him to collect her from the grocery cart, stretching out her arms in his direction. But Sam hadn't acquiesced, in part that if he had, he would have talked more with Lynne, or rather stumbled over what to say. And if he had hoisted Jane from that cart, the ache within Sam's heart would have been unbearable.

Weekly Sam dreamed about Robbie, which hadn't been as brutal as other dreams Sam had suffered, although waking from these dreams wasn't easy. In some Robbie was five, in others he was older. Never was he an adult, merely a child in various stages that Sam would never get to experience. But Jane's altered appearance now grated upon Sam, the days he was missing, Renee too. They were missing out on Jane's life and for what reason, to punish themselves or to hurt a little girl who carried her aunt's name and who had indeed lifted many of Sam's burdens. Their refusal wasn't helpful to anyone, it was plain stubbornness. Pig-headedness, Eric might offer, on both of their parts. But Eric's recent words to Sam had been in a gentler vein. Eric hadn't needed to bludgeon Sam with threats. Sam was doing that all on his own.

When Renee came home, she found her husband in the kitchen. But Sam wasn't standing in front of the stove; he was seated at their table, looking through a cookbook. No meat was frying, nothing bubbling in pots. "What's for supper?" she asked, curiosity breaking down the wall she had carefully built over the last several weeks.

Renee wouldn't deny the shield she had placed around her heart. It was the only thing keeping her sane, and she fully accepted that too. It was necessary, she allowed, brought on by last year, all her time at the hospital as well. One couldn't be too vigilant, Renee permitted, when she allowed herself to ponder more than work, the weather, and what Sam might cook. Nothing tasted as good as it used to, she had found, as her clothes were becoming looser, new colleagues noting she'd lost weight. Renee had never been this thin, well, when Sam was gone, she'd squeezed into skirts she had worn back in early high school. "What, the store run out of pork chops?" she said abruptly, not wishing to think about more than what she could see.

Considering the past haunted Renee, so she no longer ruminated about anything other than what was pertinent. And right then she was hungry. "What're we eating tonight?" she said with a huff. "Or am I doing the cooking?"

"I forgot to get chops at the market. I ran into Lynne and Jane and...."

As soon as Sam said Jane, Renee nodded, then turned to leave the kitchen. The Snyders were Renee's past, although she felt a little guilty about that. Too many dreams about Jane had required Renee to sever those relationships, dreams that also featured Robbie Carver. When Renee did think about him, she always added his last name, which was never meant to be Ahern. That child was Robbie Carver and Jane was a Snyder and....

The next thing Renee knew was Sam gripping her arm. "Honey, we need to talk about this."

They stood in the kitchen doorway as if Sam required her within his favored realm even to speak about.... "Sam, I'm starving. If there's nothing to eat, I'm gonna change, then go get a hamburger."

"Renee, Lynne asked if we were coming to Jane's birthday party. I didn't give her an answer but...."

"Of course we're not going." Renee spoke with finality. Then she sighed. "Well, if you wanna, go ahead. Now, do you want me to bring you a burger or...."

"Renee, we have to go."

She stared at him, then blinked, doing a double take. Sam's face was gaunt, his shoulders poking through his shirt. He'd appeared this way when he came back from Korea, but quickly he'd put on weight that Renee had sometimes wished might fall away, but only when she was in the throes of hoping he'd change his mind about starting a family. Or having a family or.... Now those hopes were dead; Renee had buried them as far into her gut as she could manage. This was her fault, for she never should have asked for more than this man. He came home, what else was she to have wished for?

Children had been for others to enjoy, their siblings of course, and about anyone else that came along. Even the Snyders, and Renee closed her eyes, not wishing to think about Jane, for Jane always led to the child Renee would never see again. She missed Robbie with an ache only noted when Sam had been gone. But while Sam had returned, there was no possible way for Robbie Carver to find his way to this house. This house was merely for Sam, Renee, and a host of lost opportunities.

She was glad to be standing in the doorway, not having to divert her eyes from Eric's Christmas gift. If Renee had her way, she would ask Laurie if perhaps Stanford might want to sell it, for those boysenberry vines were nearly as painful to view as gazing into Sam's mournful eyes. Renee knew his heart and what sort of ironic joke was it that now Sam wanted kids? He hurt, she knew that, but regardless, Sam wanted them to.... He wanted them to go to Jane's party. No way on God's green earth could Renee do that. If she did that.... "You go Sam. I just can't."

It didn't hurt to say those words, one small truth Renee could allow. She simply couldn't step foot in the Snyders' home, or through that gate, or even approach their road, which was now so close to her work. But something had altered within Renee, she wasn't even sure what. Just a few weeks ago she had sat in their kitchen, sipped coffee, spoken to.... Then Renee was seized with what felt like the beginning of a stroke; her left arm went numb, but shooting pains traveled through her chest cavity like a heart attack. Then she couldn't breathe, so many symptoms causing various serious ailments. The one thing Renee could do was to tightly shut her eyes. The sound within her head was the worst; it was Jane, calling for her mama. The day that Jane Renee Snyder said Mama was the last time Renee had seen her godchild.

The next thing Renee knew she was sitting on the sofa, Sam's arms around her. She could feel him, even on her left side, and she was breathing, and her heart no longer ached. But tears poured from her eyes, Sam's soft croon in her ears. Why, she wanted to ask, yet her own voice was silent, for God knew her queries, how could he not, for they were all she pondered, albeit subconsciously. To acknowledge that question would have been as miserable as returning to the Snyders, hearing Jane say that word over and over like a sledgehammer against Renee's skull. No one would ever call Renee Mama, not that Robbie had, but he would have, eventually. Now he had no one to bestow that title upon, only a grandmother he had never met before. Before.... Renee hated the past, for it meant nothing. That moment carried no resonance and the future? What was the significance of yet one more day lived with such a tremendous emptiness sucking all the joy from Renee's being?

"I won't leave you," Sam whispered. "I know it hurts honey, but I'll always be here for you."

She nodded, for that was true. Sam wouldn't abandon her and she was grateful for that, only because someone would clean the house, do the shopping, and cook supper. Yet, that night nothing waited, other than a mediocre hamburger from the stand near the hospital. Renee pulled away from her husband, searching his weary blue eyes for any reason to stand up, then pack a bag. But he did love her and guilt for her sorrow teemed in those eyes, the same color as.... "I just can't do it Sam, no way can I go there."

He stroked her hair, which was growing out, in that Renee hadn't felt compelled to get it trimmed. Nothing mattered, not Jane, nor church, nor.... Renee's arm went numb again, but this time she ignored it. Those shooting pains returned and she dismissed those too. She was waiting for her lungs to stop working. If she was dead, nothing would ever hurt her again.

Depression wasn't an illness Renee was familiar with, other than Seth's troubles. Sam dealt with it at the VA hospital, but that was excusable, for those men had been to hell and back. Yet Renee didn't equate her misery with what those former soldiers had suffered. But as Sam began speaking in a tender voice, using that very term, Renee felt pricks all over her body. At first they were subtle, like she'd stepped on a tack. Then they became more prevalent, like walking on sharp rocks. Finally they dug into her skin like that sledgehammer was gripped in Sam's right hand. Then the worst, when he mentioned she should talk to someone. Talk to someone about what, Renee wanted to say.

"Actually, I think maybe that Pole. He's not Catholic, but he'd be discreet. Or maybe an actual professional." Sam paused, then coughed. "Renee, you need to talk to somebody about this. I love you honey, but I feel like I'm losing you, and God knows I can't do that. Renee, I cannot live without you."

Sam's tone was plaintive and as soon as he stopped speaking, the pounding stopped. Renee opened her eyes, gazing at her husband. Tears dotted Sam's face, but his remorse was lessened. "Honey, maybe if you got it off your chest. You've been under so much stress and...."

Renee nodded, taking a deep breath. Then she realized the meaning of that breath as oxygen fell into her lungs like she'd been trapped underwater, begging for air. She kept nodding as if at the bottom of a well, being slowly brought to the surface, light coming closer, the suffocating darkness diminishing. She still felt incapable of attending Jane's party, but the idea of speaking about all which swirled within her heart wasn't terrifying, especially not to that pastor. Pastor Jagucki was a nice fellow, Renee had always thought, a lot like Laurie, so personable. And Sam was right; he wasn't Catholic, and maybe no one else would have to know. The last thing Renee wanted was anyone from St. Anne's aware. Those loose tongues that had wagged so violently when Lynne was still a nurse would be even more vicious toward one of their own.

Sam kissed her face, then squeezed her hands. "I'm gonna call him now, see if he has some time this week." He smiled at her, released her hands, then stood from the sofa. "Maybe in the evenings, well, not on Wednesday, but...."

Renee couldn't do any more than nod. She felt like an idiot, but at least it didn't hurt. As Sam went into the kitchen, she glanced at the paintings on the wall. The landscape was gentle on her eyes. She avoided the boysenberries, however, wishing for the blue barn. Somehow, whenever she stared at the blue barn, all of Renee's worries drifted away.
Chapter 89

Arriving at St. Matthew's Church a few minutes before five, Renee let the engine idle as she glanced in the rear view mirror. No one had followed her, no one but Sam knew, well, Sam and Pastor Jagucki. Marek had this Thursday afternoon free, but Renee hadn't been the one to speak to him, Sam had. Although now it would be up to Renee, which meant she'd have to kill the engine, then get out of the car. Sam was waiting at home, although he had offered to drive. Renee had considered it, in that Sam would make her walk up the steps and knock on the door. She could just pull away from the curb, drive around for a while, then go home, telling Sam she'd had a nice chat with the pastor, but it was all she had needed. Yet Renee knew that was bunk; while not betraying her confidence, if she did manage to exit the vehicle, Marek would note to Sam that no, Renee hadn't attended their appointment. Sam had done the scheduling, but the rest was between Marek and Renee.

She did turn off the car, tired of hearing the noise. Sam had talked about buying another vehicle; they had the money, and now that she worked Monday through Friday, it would be a practical purchase. Before her schedules, while a little erratic, blended better with his time at the VA hospital. Now she was like most working stiffs, and yes, another car would be a blessing. And it would be a way to spend some of the money that now made Renee daily wish for those three hawks. Maybe that painting, if it hadn't been sold, might still be in their living room. The blue barn was the only special canvas they owned, then Renee bit her lip. If anyone saw the boysenberry vines, she would face an argument.

Glancing at her watch made her sigh again. It was now five o'clock, and if she wasn't going to meet with the pastor, she had better be on her way. Marek might be looking for her car and if he was, he'd be tapping his foot, growing angry that his time was being wasted. But Renee couldn't drive away; something was keeping her there, well, keeping her across the street from St. Matthew's. The last time she'd been here was for.... Renee blinked away tears. She had witnessed Lynne and Eric's baptisms, but nearly a whole year had passed since Jane's; how much had altered, in all of their lives, Renee allowed. She and Sam had learned the truth about the New Yorkers, which brought a small smile to Renee's face. Then she frowned, for if it was possible, they would be at Jane's party next weekend. But Stanford's mother was dying, no way for them to travel. Laurie had actually called Sam last night, seeking Sam and Renee's prayers for Michael, Stanford, and the rest of the Taylors. Renee had felt awful for them, then she'd wondered about Laurie's request. That man wasn't a devout Jew; he adored Sam's pork chops. But Renee hadn't wished to inquire about more than the particulars. She still wasn't in the mood to consider beyond what the eye could see.

For five minutes she pondered all that 1962 had wrought; Eric hadn't changed, at least not into a hawk. Fatherhood was another story, which quickly Renee skirted around, but it bumped into Fran and Louie, which led Renee to those days back in the Nolan household and all those card games with her father. And chats with her mother, but Renee hadn't mentioned any of her recent troubles to her mom. Marie was better with the messier aspects of familial life, which lately had meant problems for Renee's brother Ritchie and his wife Brenda. Divorce wasn't hinted at, only that Ritchie needed to dry out. When Renee's oldest brother was sober, he was a good husband and father. Then Renee thought about Sam. He didn't drink, didn't smoke either, but cigarettes weren't Richie's main issue. He was probably smoking more now since he'd quit booze cold turkey; Renee could imagine ashtrays piled high at the Nolan dining table, which doubled as her father's card room. According to Marie, Ritchie had been living there for a week and hadn't touched a drop. Renee imagined her brother was doing the same as she had last autumn, playing hand after hand of poker. But unlike Renee, Ritchie was smoking cigarette after cigarette, probably aching for a beer. No alcohol was allowed in the Nolan family home, Eugene and Marie insisting upon that edict. But it hadn't kept their kids from imbibing, although Renee only used whiskey medicinally. And Sam was the same.

Sam had no vices, Renee considered. He loved to cook, he always had. Before Korea, he'd planned to be a chef, over which he'd endured plenty of ribbing, especially from Renee's family. But Sam had been the only one to serve in Korea, and of course when he came home, no one teased him about anything. Privately Ritchie had told Renee that he thought Sam had the biggest balls of any of them, even if now they weren't worth a.... It had taken months for Renee's husband to be able to walk again and working fulltime wasn't a possibility. But over the years Sam had provided how many men with priceless advice, or simply listening ears. Then Renee glanced over at St. Matthew's. Sam knew what she needed, but it wasn't something he could proffer. She required someone objective to speak with, someone who could give to her the counseling Sam gave to the vets. He was a volunteer, but over the years it had turned into a career.

Renee peeked at her watch; it was now ten after five. She sighed, then fiddled with the handle of her purse. Marek hadn't come out searching for her, maybe he thought she had forgotten. Or rather she had chickened out. Had she? She was ten minutes late, which was rude. That notion made Renee grab her handbag, then open the car door. A stiff breeze hit her legs, making her shiver. That propelled her across the road, up the steps, but in reaching the church doors she stopped. Was she supposed to knock or go on in? If this was St. Anne's, Renee would march inside. But this was the Snyders' place of worship, where Jane had been baptized. Then Renee bit her lip. She put up her hand, ready to knock, when suddenly the door opened.

"Oh Mrs. Ahern, hello!" Pastor Jagucki smiled. "I was just taking these letters to the mailbox. Mrs. Kenny forgot to put them out earlier and I didn't want her to feel bad when she came in tomorrow. Sometimes she gets so busy and...."

"I'm sorry I'm late. I, uh, just got off work." Renee hated to lie, but she was wearing her nursing uniform.

"Oh, it's not a problem. Go on in, I won't be more than a few minutes." Marek took the stairs, then headed for the sidewalk. Renee watched him leave, then she went into the church. She remained in the vestibule, unsure where he wanted them to speak. She was glad they were alone, for she truly didn't want anyone to know she was seeking counsel. She hadn't even told her mother about this, in part that Marie would have fretted that Renee was sharing something so personal with a non-Catholic. Besides, Ritchie was enough for Marie to consider.

Renee gazed at the entryway; it looked similar to that at St. Anne's, a large bulletin board with various flyers and sign-up sheets for church suppers and the like. Maybe Catholics and Protestants weren't that different, then Renee smiled. Her mother would hit the roof if Renee breathed that idea.

Yet, Renee didn't feel far from her spiritual roots, for this church was where she had again become a godmother. Somehow she could conjure that day, even for Fran's involvement, and no pain resonated. Jane had been so tiny; Renee easily recalled her delicate cap with the thin white ribbons, and how tenderly the pastor had pushed that hat from Jane's forehead, sprinkling holy water, bringing that child into this church. Yet not only this building, but into a vast Christian family, which included the Catholic Aherns. Renee was Jane's godmother, but thinking about seeing that girl made Renee's knees buckle. Jane was walking, but Renee had to take Sam's word for that. Jane took her first steps last Sunday and Fran had witnessed it before Renee.

How had Frannie felt, Renee wondered, or Louie? The twins would be.... Renee blinked away tears, then she turned around. How long did it take to walk to the mailbox? Maybe it was at the end of the block, or maybe the pastor had been stopped by a parishioner, or maybe.... But then Renee had been the one to dither in her car. She'd been hiding, no other way to put it. However, she was here now and maybe Sam was wondering how things were going. He'd be the only one, she clucked to herself. No one else knew Renee was seeking solace in a non-Catholic place of worship.

She stared again at the bulletin board, but scanning names, few were familiar, and none were of Snyder. But Eric and Lynne would be gone for most of April, four weeks spent in that city, yet not all of it at Stanford and Laurie's. Although, depending on when Constance Taylor passed away, maybe the Snyders wouldn't stay at Michael's apartment. Perhaps they would spend those extra days with Stanford's cook. Eric and Lynne were going to Queens and Renee had been looking forward to their stories about that part of the trip, but how might she hear them if she wasn't able to be in the same room with them? Sam would tell her, but it wouldn't be the same, for Eric's deadpan wit would provide much of the humor, Lynne's gentle additions making Renee's eyes water for the hospitality shared, no matter the locale. Stanford's cook couldn't wait to meet Jane; she'd probably spoil her rotten. All those New Yorkers, including Laurie's clan, would give that girl anything Jane wanted, which eased the pain in Renee's chest. She couldn't even visit her godchild, much less attend her first birthday party.

That's why Renee was here, because Sam had insisted. He wouldn't force her to accompany him in a little over a week's time, but he had arranged this appointment, which between Renee's belated appearance and whatever was keeping Marek busy was turning out to be quite a bust. Maybe this was indicative of Renee seeking.... What was she here for, other than to make Sam happy? She was here because.... Because her husband thought she needed help. She needed to talk to someone because he didn't want to lose her. He'd nearly lost her a couple of times last year, although for some reason Sam had made amends, and so had Renee. Yet this was clearly her problem and Sam had done what he could and hopefully he'd be fixing supper when she got home. That was supposed to be at six; Marek had asked for nearly an hour for this first meeting. The only meeting, Renee scoffed, and that was if he managed to show up again.

She wouldn't come back; this one was a wash, and it hadn't even started. Had she sabotaged it perhaps, but then Marek wasn't helping, where was that Pole? Marching to the front doors, Renee opened one, peering out. Then she smiled; the pastor was being lectured by a rather squat older woman who kept pointing at the bare flowerbeds on either side of St. Matthew's front steps.

Renee had never met Mrs. Harmon, but that had to be her, from how Eric had described her and how strongly she made her point, which must be about the lack of spring foliage. Marek had his back to Renee, but he waved his arms, making his objections known, and from the bit Renee could overhear, those protests were relayed in a thicker than usual Polish accent. Usually he sounded European, but it was an ambiguous inflection, occasionally tinged with a British nuance which Renee always loved. Marek Jagucki was never hard to understand, always speaking intelligent language delivered in a charming continental inflection. But now he sounded peeved, which Renee had never previously detected. But from all Renee knew about Mrs. Harmon, the pastor carried a heavy burden, and she wasn't even a member of St. Matthew's.

She wasn't Catholic either, but Renee didn't ponder beyond that. She strained to catch what they were arguing about, for now the conversation had turned slightly acerbic. That was more from Mrs. Harmon's tone, although Marek's accent was deeper, yet his volume didn't increase. Mrs. Harmon's did; she squawked that ever since this Pole had arrived, the daffodils were late. That somehow it was his fault and she was going to speak to St. Matthew's board of trustees. Something had to be done about the missing daffodils.

Renee grew puzzled, for distinctly she recalled those flowers at Jane's baptism. They had outshone the wilting tulips as everyone milled about while Eric and Lynne said goodbye to the pastor. Renee recalled that day so clearly; it had been much warmer than the weather now, and even though she'd had to face Fran having twins, at least Jane was a member of God's family. It hadn't occurred in Renee's church, but this one was fine, it was better than no church at all. The daffodils had caught Renee's attention, for it was late April, all other spring flowers nearly dead. Then everybody had driven to the Snyders; Laurie had helped Renee and Sam set out the food, all the Canfield kids hollering for lunch. That day, even for the confusion Renee felt over Frannie's twins, had been one of the most joyful in Renee's life. Cradling Jane during that baby's baptism was as close as Renee would ever get to that event within her own life. It had meant more than all the nieces and nephews Renee had held in similar circumstances. Renee knew why that was; she had assisted in that little girl's birth. It would be the only birth Renee would ever witness.

Finally Marek walked away from the still belligerent Mrs. Harmon. Renee stepped back inside St. Matthew's, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping. She waited at the last pew as the pastor entered the church. He slowly closed the door, then turned toward her, his face ashen, his shoulders slumped. Renee met him in the middle of the vestibule. "Oh Pastor, can I get you a glass of water?"

Marek gave a weak smile. "Aren't I supposed to be ministering to you? But yes, let's step into the kitchen. I suspect we both could use a drink."

Renee let him lead the way and she wondered if he meant water or something a little heartier. At that moment she wouldn't mind a whiskey; it would ease her heartache and perhaps bolster her confidence. She needed to tell him how sorry she was for wasting his time, and for how he'd been verbally attacked by someone not even a St. Matthew's member. Renee was sorry for many things, that she'd been listening to their conversation, that Sam had gone to the trouble of arranging this meeting, and that.... "Pastor, shall I make some coffee?"

Renee made excellent coffee, it was about the only culinary task she did well. Growing up in a houseful of drinkers, she'd learned to make it strong, her brothers requiring a good dose of sobriety within a few cups of joe. Renee's parents were the only ones who didn't drink, other than wine at communion. But each of Gene and Marie's kids did, even Renee, every once in a while.

"Just water, please." Marek sat at the table while Renee rummaged through cupboards until she found glasses. She filled two, then handed one to Marek, sitting across from him with her own cup. They sipped, not speaking, while Marek rubbed his temples. Then he sighed. "That woman can give me such a headache."

"Do you need some aspirin?" Renee felt awful, for he looked to be in terrible pain.

He nodded, but motioned for her to remain seated. She was glad, for she hadn't seen aspirin while looking for the glasses. He pulled out a drawer, removed a bottle, then shook some tablets into his hand. Renee didn't see how many, nor did she offer advice. If it had been her, three or four might not have been enough.

Sometimes Ritchie swallowed five, if his tremors were that bad. Five aspirins were too many, in Renee's opinion, but Ritchie never asked his younger sister. He just took the pills, then waited for them to ease his pain. Renee never expected him to quit for good; he had sabbaticals, as he and Tommy would joke. Tommy had sabbaticals too, but his bouts with booze were never as disabling as Ritchie's. Tommy hadn't been kicked out of his house since Renee had been living at home, waiting for Sam to get back from Korea.

As the pastor returned to his seat, Renee studied his face. He didn't look as debilitated as Ritchie sometimes did, but he was as pained as she'd ever seen him. Marek again rubbed his temples, then he shook his head. "She reminds me of someone from home, a rather bitter woman who caused my mother no end of trouble. I never thought I'd find someone so disagreeable here in America." Then he smiled. "But unhappy people are everywhere."

Renee nodded, thinking about some of her former colleagues at the hospital. Those women had been the instigators of all the nasty gossip when Lynne had been working, some of whom attended St. Anne's. If they knew Renee was at St. Matthew's and why.... "Some people are just horrible, nothing you can do." She sighed as she said it, for the truth behind it and for how drained Marek still appeared.

He nodded, then drank the rest of his water. "I'm just sorry it's happened today. I'd reached the post box, was on my way back. I think she was waiting for me, she was coming back this way, but her house is on the other side of the block. Circling like a vulture, that's what my mother used to say."

Renee noted his tone was still very Polish-sounding. He spoke with that inflection when he talked to Jane, but it changed the meaning of his English. With Jane, it came across gently, paternally Renee had always thought. Now he sounded defeated. Renee took another sip from her glass, then cleared her throat. "Well, I should be leaving." She glanced at the clock over the doorway; it was five forty. By the time she got home, Sam would have supper waiting, and she could tell him that while she had seen the pastor, it probably wasn't something she needed to do again.

Renee didn't wish to speak of all this, then she grimaced. Ritchie never wanted to completely give up drinking; he just wanted to smooth out things with Brenda, then slowly return to a habit that might one day do irreparable harm to his marriage, and perhaps himself. Then Renee shivered. Her parents didn't drink because both sets of her grandparents had found early graves all because of booze. How much did it hurt Renee's mom and dad that nearly all of their offspring had succumbed to that Irish curse? There were varying levels, not all of her siblings were lushes, but many of them seemed to require more than a few stiff belts. Ritchie was the worst; he was an alcoholic. Renee stared at the water in her glass; she had wanted a whiskey. Then she gazed at the pastor. His coloring was a little better, his eyes not so tired. He smiled at her in a manner that sometimes Father Markham did days after she had made confession. She might have noted a good chunk of her misdeeds, but not all. Yet, he never called her on it, that wasn't his place. It was up to Renee to admit her problems, whether to a priest in the confessional booth or to what she couldn't bear to speak of, which haunted her very soul.

Yet, with this Lutheran minister, the words waited right on the tip of Renee's tongue. A swelling pain rushed up from her throat as if she might be sick. Was that how her brother felt when he drank too much, vomiting up what otherwise would kill him. Would keeping this at bay harm Renee? It was damaging to her relationship with her godchild, her Lutheran godchild. Renee began to cry, for she missed Jane so deeply, perhaps even more than she missed Robbie. With that little boy it had been a future denied, a relationship never undertaken. But with Jane....

Renee had cuddled that little girl even before Lynne had. With the most tender care Renee had placed that tiny newborn into her mother's arms, then learned that girl would carry Renee's name as one of her own. Renee had presented Jane, with Sam's assistance, to this pastor in order for Jane to receive a most precious sacrament. And how many times had Renee changed Jane, bathed her, read to her? Far more than with any other of Renee's godchildren. Reaching for a napkin from the holder in the center of the table, Renee blew her nose with force. Then she balled up the napkin, trying to stem the flood of tears. But they flowed as if a dam inside Renee's chest had exploded. All the words she ached to say were being expelled within a river of sorrow that rocked Renee to her core.

Ten minutes later, after she was breathing normally, Marek moved from her side. He'd sat next to her sometime during that breakdown, but Renee wasn't sure when. Now he stood, patting her shoulder. "I'll call Sam and tell him you'll be a little late. Or that if he prefers, I'll run you home. Then he can come back with me for your car. Better for you to not be behind the wheel anytime soon."

Renee nodded. How many times had she implored Ritchie to let Brenda drive him, and their children, home from a family function? No use getting himself killed, but Renee had never mentioned who else was in the car. Yet, it wasn't only the person with the problem who was hurting. The whole family was involved and that made Renee ache. Sam said he couldn't live without her and last summer, when they had been fighting, Jane had suffered from terrible colic. Renee had never believed those issues were related, but maybe they were. Jane would be away for most of April; would she remember Renee when the Snyders returned? Renee didn't think she could attend Jane's party in just over a week's time, but eventually, she sighed. She didn't want to be so lost, like Ritchie, from those she loved.

And from who loved her; deep within Renee's heart beat the awareness that Jane did love, and need, her Auntie Renee. It wasn't vanity, but the truth, and God's will. She was Jane's godmother, which wasn't a token association that could be forgotten. In speaking for Jane at the baptism, Renee and Sam both had pledged to look after that girl's spiritual well-being. Maybe Renee wouldn't be as responsible for Jane as she was to her Catholic godchildren, or maybe denominations had no bearing. Yet, how would she attend the party, how could she hear Jane call for her mother in that most prized manner? Renee wasn't sure, even with all the tears she had wept.

"Well, he said he'd be glad to come back with me for your car." Marek smiled, then retook the seat closest to Renee. "He said supper's ready and asked if I had any plans." Then the pastor chuckled. "I said I didn't, but if you needed a quiet evening...."

"No, please join us." Renee nodded as if to emphasize her words. "I feel so sorry for wasting your time this afternoon, it's the least we can do."

"There is no wasted time Renee." Marek clasped her hand in his. "Not even arguing with Mrs. Harmon. God has a plan for all things, although I have no idea what I receive from that woman's presence." He grinned. "God must think I need more patience. When it comes to Mrs. Harmon, indeed I do."

"Well, you're a saint, I'll say. I'd have knocked her into next week if she spoke to me that way."

Marek laughed, then stood, offering his hand to Renee. She grasped it, then was glad for his gentle squeeze. They stared at each other, but she wanted to look away. In his brown eyes, she saw his response, and it had nothing to do with her previous words.

He wanted her to return for a proper conversation, but not about grouchy people or missing flowers. Yet, he wouldn't impose his wishes, for this had to be her decision. Then Renee wondered how this man's eyes could translate all that. Maybe in the same way Eric painted what he witnessed, yet it was relayed in a manner far more deeply than language could convey.

"Pastor, I realize today was, well, a wreck." Renee smiled, although it hurt. But a more damaging pain waited if she didn't address this now. She shook her head, a nurse's instincts hard to ignore, even if she was the patient. "Do you think, I mean, if you had some time next week...."

"Tuesday at five is free." His voice was soft as he again squeezed her hand. Then he released it. "I would like us to continue this chat."

Renee nodded, although very little had been said. She had wept plenty, was that the same? It was a start, she allowed, albeit small. Yet, those tears had hurt bitterly. Was it worth it, she wondered, dredging through all that heartache?

She looked around the kitchen, thinking back to the supper, before Eric's August show, and how Marek had coerced all the men into doing the washing-up, even Stanford Taylor. Renee smiled, then flinched. In the far corner hung a painting of Marek and Jane. Renee had seen this canvas, but not the finished piece. She was stunned at the way Marek held her goddaughter as if he was her father. Yet, there was separation between them, although she wasn't sure how Eric had deftly woven that into the scene. Neither subject faced out, for which Renee was grateful, not having to look into Jane's gorgeous eyes. They were Sam's eyes and Renee had a soft chuckle. Those blue eyes hadn't changed from the day Jane was born.

"I hung it there because I can see it when I wash dishes." Then Marek smiled. "Plus, I'm a little greedy. It's a very special painting and I don't wish to share it with merely anyone. Mrs. Kenny's quite fond of it, tells me I should put it in the library. But I think it works better in here."

Renee nodded, then approached the canvas. She knew the other one was being admired in some European country. Then she glanced back at Marek. Were any Polish museums on the tour? Probably not, due to the Iron Curtain. But how many people would enjoy the pastor and Jane, as Renee thought of that other painting. This one was different; Jane was a little older, which Renee could see, even from Jane's profile. Her hair was longer, her smile more broad, her....

How had she altered since Eric started this, at the end of last year? Again Renee glanced at Marek, his face hard to read. He too saw something distinctive in this piece. Renee was glad for it to be slightly hidden away. Not everyone should get to enjoy it.

She sighed, then stepped his way. "Next Tuesday at five would be fine, if you're sure you have the time."

He nodded, then smiled. "I'll put it on my calendar now. Then we can leave. I'm starving, to tell you the truth, and your husband mentioned chicken cacciatore. Oh, I hope I'm not spoiling a surprise."

"No, Sam said something about it to me this morning. I'll meet you in the vestibule."

Marek smiled, quickly clasping her hands. Then he turned around, heading for the doorway. Renee was on his heels, but right before she left, she looked back. The painting was nearly out of sight; one had to be near the sink to see it. Yet, what a treasure for somebody willing to scout it out. Then Renee sighed, mulling that over as she waited for Marek to drive her home.
Chapter 90

In the small room, Stanford paced between where his sisters sat and where Laurie stood, but Stanford didn't approach where his father leaned forward in his chair near Constance's bedside. Stanford kept his distance from his parents, in that he didn't wish to disturb his dad, and his mother was near death. Stanford had never seen anyone die and he hadn't wanted to begin that ritual with one of his own relatives, much less his mother. Yet, there had been no way to excuse himself from this place at this time. Late on Monday, March eleventh, Constance Margaret Houseman Taylor would leave this world, but Stanford had no idea where she might be going.

He'd had to cancel his appointments, well, Miss Harold had cancelled them, all but one. Stanford had personally called Dr. Walsh, but they would meet again on Thursday, at the usual time, two in the afternoon. This was Stanford's second week in therapy, but with only a couple of sessions under his belt, he wasn't sure how much good it was doing. Well, it held a modicum of worth, for he was there. For the last few months, Stanford hadn't been certain he could stand this close to his mother at this moment in time. Laurie had understood, maybe that had been why he'd insisted that Stan see someone. No therapy in the world would heal Seth, Laurie had said, while Stanford ate Wilma's delicious chocolate cake. But Stanford's problems weren't to that scale, which Laurie reiterated a day later, when Stanford came home from work utterly exhausted for the little he had managed to accomplish. Stanford still hadn't agreed, but Laurie could be pushy, and Stanford had made the appointment with a psychiatrist highly regarded by one of Stanford's clients. Dr. Leonard Walsh was Stanford's sort of person, no-nonsense and well-read. And in their two sessions Stanford had spoken about his dying mother and Laurie's ill cousin, which outwardly were the biggest stresses in the dealer's life. But while Laurie hadn't minced words, that Stan needed to concentrate on his depleted soul, Dr. Walsh seemed amenable to focusing on those outwardly draining issues. And now Stanford felt that at least where his mother was concerned, a greater pain loomed in what happened after everyone exited this room. Stanford continued to pace, wishing he could outrun the onslaught tumbling toward him with every labored breath his mother took.

Once she was gone, then he would miss her. He knew that as much as he knew his name. For the last decade, she had been slipping from his life one forgotten memory at a time. Her beauty was faded, but if he glanced at his youngest sister Melanie, there sat his mother, in her late twenties, about the age she was when she gave birth to her first child. And now that eldest son waited as that lovely vibrant person, withered into near decay, was preparing to take her final inhalation. When she did, what would happen to her?

Unlike the Snyders, who expressed their assumptions over the telephone and in letters, Stanford didn't believe his mother was going to heaven. Stanford didn't know what Laurie thought, they hadn't discussed it. Then Stanford glanced at his partner; Laurie comforted Melanie, who wept hard. Laurie's father had died ages ago, but he rarely spoke of where Aaron Abrams was. Laurie talked about his dad in a jovial manner, mostly in how Aaron would be rolling over in his grave over this or that incident. But where did Laurie think his father actually was; did Jews, regardless of their piety, believe in an afterlife? Stanford had no idea.

Religion was never something Stanford considered, well, not until Eric got all churchy on him. That had come about in such an odd manner that Stanford never considered it. If he started to, he stopped himself, for he would have to acknowledge what had occurred on Christmas in '61, when Lynne.... How in the world could she have let her husband become so ill, to the point of near death, relying solely on.... Stanford wanted to cluck, but his sister's tears pierced him, as did their father's sighs. Stanford gazed at his mother; she looked skeletal, nothing like his memories. Then he stared at Melanie, who was being rocked against Laurie's chest. None of the grandchildren were here and Melanie's husband was working in West Germany, unable to get home in time for this. Charles would attend the funeral, but couldn't comfort his grieving wife.

Stanford's other brothers-in-law stood behind their spouses, but only Melanie wept, which surprised Stanford for she had always seemed the most independent of the Taylor women. Maybe because she was the youngest, or it was simply her personality. Louise's shoulders were gripped by her husband Herb while Claire bent over in her seat, her husband Edward leaning forward, much like Stanford's father did. But Edward didn't speak to Claire while Michael continued to whisper that he loved Constance; he would miss her, but it was time. It was time, he repeated, grasping her bony hand, then brushing sparse hairs from her aged face. Louise and Claire looked more like the Taylor side of the family, but Melanie resembled the Housemans, what with their delicate noses and high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes and laughing smiles. Melanie was still attractive, even after having been a mom for four years, and Stanford wondered for how long he had missed admiring their mother's loveliness, the only woman in his life he had ever considered beautiful.

Perhaps the only time Stanford had permitted that trait in another female was when Lynne was pregnant with Jane. At first she'd looked misshapen, but during that visit, which at the time had rattled Stanford for what Eric had painted, Lynne's swollen features had changed from somewhat unappealing to tugging on Stanford's heart. His heart, he wanted to cluck, but again, he kept silent. For now there was no sound in the room other than his father's tender murmurs.

Stanford closed his eyes, trying to detect Melanie's faint tears or perhaps Louise or Claire was crying. Instead all he heard were breaths, first his own, then Laurie's, then his sisters and those of their husbands. Finally he detected his father's; Michael's inhalations were weary, but tinged with relief. Stanford heard no others. Opening his eyes, he gazed at his mother. No longer was she among the living.

Her chest didn't rise, her skin was ashen, but not the same pallid hue as moments ago. Was the chemistry of death that sudden, Stanford wondered, but he didn't move toward her. He needed no other proof, for now all three of his sisters sobbed, Laurie telling Melanie that her mother was free. Then Stanford stared at Laurie; his voice was as light as Stanford could allow for what had just occurred. Constance was free, Laurie repeated, in a place where she recalled everything. That had been difficult for Stanford to reckon as she became less and less herself, but how much harder had that been on Constance's daughters, especially her youngest. Melanie's two children had never been loved by their maternal grandmother, for that woman had ceased to exist long before their births. Melanie had relied upon her older sisters to fill that maternal gap, causing Stanford to gaze at Louise, who was just two years his junior. She had become a mother to at least Melanie, perhaps also to Claire when necessary. Stanford had never felt a part of their lives due to his work and his relationship with Laurie. If Stanford had fallen in love with a woman, perhaps she would have drawn him closer to his sisters, alongside their husbands and families. But Laurie's gender had kept Stanford aloof, what Stanford had always told himself. However, being homosexual had no bearing when it came to the friendships Stanford had nurtured with Eric and Lynne.

Perhaps Stanford might mention that to Dr. Walsh when they spoke on Thursday. Stanford hadn't concealed his relationship with Laurie from the shrink; Stanford wasn't embarrassed that his lover was a man. But what about how Stanford felt about Eric, Lynne, and Jane? Stanford cared deeply about those people, far more than he felt about his own siblings, who now crowded around their father, comforting a man who continued to clasp his dead wife's hands. Stanford stood alone at the back of the room as his brothers-in-law joined the huddle. Then Laurie stepped back, slowly approaching Stanford.

They gazed at each other, Laurie's green eyes cloudy. Then tears rolled down his cheeks, and Stanford nodded, but no tears formed in his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about why this family, other than his father, meant so little, but an unrelated client who lived on the other side of the country pulled at his heart. In three days Jane would be a year old and all Stanford wanted was to fly west, spending that day with the Snyders. Maybe he was running away, that's what Dr. Walsh would tell him, easier to face this loss from a distance than up close. Was that the truth, or had Stanford permitted a bigger breach in his defenses, allowing three strangers into the space where only Laurie dwelled.

And why was Stanford so reticent about his own clan, he then wondered, as Laurie caressed Stanford's face. It was then Stanford discovered the tears falling down his cheeks, but that other query remained unanswered. More fodder for Dr. Walsh, Stanford told himself, as he closed his eyes, a room teeming with grief swirling around him.

On Tuesday, Laurie called Eric, passing along the news. Eric rang Sam, then Sam called Frannie. Fran expressed her dismay, asking Sam if this would affect Jane's party later that week. Sam said that no, the party was still on. And that if Fran wanted to bring deviled eggs, Lynne would appreciate it.

Sam had added that caveat, for Fran had been pestering him about what she could take on Saturday, and it was easier for Sam to sort that issue than calling back Eric, who would have to question Lynne. Sam didn't want Lynne fretting about anything in addition to her usual concerns, which now included the Taylor family. But from what Sam knew about those folks, the passing of their matriarch wasn't the worst they had suffered.

Now they could mourn her properly, he thought, not how they had been living with her ghost for the better part of a decade. What Sam knew about them he'd gleaned from Eric, and from Laurie. Sam didn't know anything from Stanford; that man acted like other than his father, he had no relatives. Or rather, his relatives were all on the West Coast, well, the Snyders. Sam didn't lump himself and Renee in that tiny clique, although he felt differently about Laurie. Sam truly liked Laurie Abrams and now felt quite ashamed when he considered his poor reaction to the men's relationship this time last year. It wasn't any of Sam's business for one thing, and Renee had been right when she noted that Sam hadn't seemed bothered by the rumors concerning his wife and Lynne. Yet, all that nonsense now seemed like someone else's life, for neither woman worked at the hospital. Lynne was a mother and Renee was.... She was speaking with Pastor Jagucki at that moment, or Sam hoped she was. And when she came home, after she shared whatever she felt was necessary, Sam would tell her about Stanford's mother. They would discuss that during supper; Renee would probably want to send a sympathy card to Michael, but Sam wasn't sure if she would get one for Stanford. He'd leave that up to her.

Other than waiting for Renee to come home, there wasn't much for Sam to do. That night's meal was leftovers and now that he had spoken to Frannie, there wasn't anyone else who needed to know about Constance Taylor, other than Renee. Maybe Eric had called Pastor Jagucki, perhaps right after he informed Sam. Sam had spent that day at home, for Renee had needed the car for her appointment. Tomorrow Sam would drive her to work and he'd do the same on Friday. But on Thursday she would see the pastor again and Sam sighed. They needed another vehicle, which might seem ostentatious to their neighbors. But Renee worked full time and they had the money. Sam didn't want to flaunt their good fortune, but it was what it was. Maybe Eric and Lynne were happy with one car, but the Aherns were different.

Briefly Sam winced, then his stomach growled. He went into the kitchen, pulling a few saltines from the cupboard. Normally he and Renee ate at a little past five; truthfully, he had supper waiting as soon as she stepped through the door. That night all he had to do was heat up spaghetti and cut a few slices of bread. Then Sam smiled. Why had he been so adverse to Laurie and Stanford when his role wasn't the norm?

For all intents and purposes, Sam was the housewife, Renee the breadwinner. She did do the ironing, a task Sam loathed, but he tackled all the other chores, mostly because Renee had little time to dust, mop, and vacuum. Their household was more akin to Laurie and Stanford's than say the Snyders, or the Canfields. And it wasn't merely childlessness that set the Aherns apart, Sam allowed.

Sam wondered if Renee was speaking about this with Marek. Then Sam pondered if Renee had gone to meet with the pastor. Last week she nearly hadn't, which hadn't surprised Sam, although he'd been dismayed to hear about Mrs. Harmon's tirade. Renee had made clear that woman's disdain for Marek, which Renee believed was based solely upon Marek's nationality. That had bothered Sam, but people were prejudiced, and he'd been no better than Mrs. Harmon a year ago, learning about those New Yorkers. Until then, Sam had thought he was a fairly accepting person; he'd witnessed plenty of bigots in the army and had always thought himself above those hypocrites. But no one was free of assuming biases, it was human nature. How many people laughed behind his and Renee's backs, plenty Sam was certain. They might take Sam's time overseas into account, if they knew. And if they knew that, they also might understand the Aherns' childless home. However, they would probably think it odd that a Catholic couple hadn't sought out other means to make a family. Then Sam sighed. No one truly understood a person until they had walked in that man's shoes.

Fifteen minutes later, spaghetti simmered on the stove, the table was set, bread sliced. Butter waited on the counter alongside the parmesan cheese; Sam would place those items between his and Renee's plates when he heard the front door rattle. His stomach still rumbled, but he'd been busy that day, not only speaking on the telephone, but fixing custard and cleaning house. He glanced at the clock; it was almost six, Renee would be home at any moment. They would eat, then he'd tell her about Stanford's mother. Depending on her reaction, maybe they would cuddle on the sofa. They hadn't made love since.... He sighed, it had been a good number of weeks. She'd been so upset and he felt guilty. If he hadn't been so afraid, their home life would be more like everyone else's. But now Sam wasn't sure if Renee would change her mind. He didn't expect her to accompany him to Jane's party on Saturday, although he wasn't looking forward to going alone. He wouldn't have to make an excuse, well, only to the kids. Fran and Louie knew, or Sam assumed they were smart enough to get the gist. Marek obviously needed no explanation and those were the only invited guests. Suddenly Sam was glad for the New Yorkers' absences. Of course the reason was unfortunate, but at least he wouldn't have to lie to Laurie. And to Stanford too.

As Renee opened the front door, Sam put the butter and cheese on the table. Then he cleared his throat, walking into the living room. "Hey honey, how was your day?"

Sam glanced in his wife's direction, not finding tears on her face, nor were her eyes red. But she didn't look calm and he took her coat and purse, placing them on the nearest chair. "Renee, you okay?"

She nodded hesitantly. "I'm hungry. Time to eat?"

"It sure is." Sam smiled, then led her into the kitchen. She sat at the table while he spooned pasta and sauce onto her plate, setting it in front of her. Then he dished up his own portion and sat beside her in their usual seats. He had a few bites, glancing at her in between them. Renee ate with gusto, which pleased Sam. But she still looked troubled.

It was her eyes, for she wouldn't meet his gaze. She seemed turned away from him, but Sam didn't pepper her with questions. He had much to tell her already, when she was finished.

It didn't take them long to clear their plates. Renee even had seconds, which led Sam to having a bit more. Which also was a relief, for her appetite had been slight, even after talking to Marek last week. Then she inquired about dessert, to which Sam smiled. "Made some custard today. No pie to go with it, but...."

Then he wanted to slap himself, but Renee seemed to take no offense. "Pie always goes well with custard," she smiled. Then her grin faded. "Sam, there's something I need to tell you."

He nodded, wondering if maybe Marek had shared the news about Stanford's mother. "Well, there's something I need to tell you too."

"What?" she asked.

He sighed. "Laurie called Eric today. Stanford's mom passed away last night."

Renee gasped. "Oh no, really?"

Sam nodded, then embraced her. "Yeah, but it sounds like she went peacefully. They were all there, well, all but one of Stanford's brother-in-laws. I don't know when the funeral's gonna be, but if you wanna send a card...."

Renee pulled away. "Oh, I will. Um, to Michael." Then she gazed at Sam. "Do you think I should send one to Stanford and Laurie too?"

Sam couldn't hide his small grin. "Well, I was wondering the same. Was gonna leave it up to you."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Hmmm, well, I probably should. At least for, well...." Now Renee wore a little smile. "For Laurie, but that sounds horrible. For both of them."

"Yeah, I agree." Sam took a deep breath. Those men were as committed to each other as Sam was to his wife. And they'd been together longer, since 1946, whereas Sam didn't meet Renee until 1947. For over fifteen years Stanford and Laurie had been.... Sam flinched; there was no proper word, for they weren't married and.... And any other term was more than Sam could ponder. Yet, the essence of that duo's relationship was identical to what Sam shared with Renee and what Eric had with Lynne. "Eric said that Laurie sounded okay, but then it was Stanford's mom."

"They're probably relieved it's over, or that part of it's over." Renee grasped Sam's hands. "Sometimes death's not as awful as people think."

Sam nodded, but he wasn't as certain as his wife. All the deaths Sam had witnessed were without purpose, and that included Frannie's babies. But Sam didn't dwell on that. Renee hadn't known about Stanford's mother, she had something else to tell him. "So, what were you gonna say?" he asked gently.

Renee looked at him, but her eyes were odd, not the hue, still that gray-white which would always make Sam weak in the knees. Since 1947, he'd been in love with this woman, he had been twenty, she was nineteen. They had been each other's first and God willing would be each other's only. Children weren't meant to be a part of it and Sam inhaled that notion with more calm than ever in his life. Some couples didn't procreate, whether it was due to injury or biology. But Sam wouldn't hesitate to bet that for as much as he loved Renee, Laurie loved Stanford. And Stanford loved his.... Better half, Sam decided, then smiled. Sometimes he called Renee his better half, so of course Stanford could be Laurie's better half, or rather his other half. Of the New Yorkers, Sam felt that Laurie was the nicer person.

"Renee, you can tell me anything." Now Sam gripped her hands, which seemed to tremble. "Honey, I love you. Unless it's something you think needs to stay just between you and the pastor...." Sam said that with some hesitancy. No other man had ever come between himself and Renee. But therapy was to help Renee; Sam had no problem using that word in connection with Pastor Jagucki. Renee needed therapy just like the vets did.

No one could gauge a person's need for mental health care other than a qualified doctor or someone equally trained in such a field. And after all these years, Sam permitted that he was that capable. However it hurt, realizing his wife was in need of assistance he couldn't provide, but better for her to seek help than to end up a wreck. Pastor Jagucki wasn't a psychiatrist; he wasn't even a certified therapist. But he was a man of faith and he'd seen how many atrocities. That was Sam's criteria and Marek filled in all the blanks. He was a Christian, he knew loss firsthand, and Sam trusted him. That was solely a gut reaction, but Sam had deep faith in his gut. Whatever Renee needed to tell him, Sam wouldn't turn away.

He stroked her face, then kissed her cheek. She nodded, then motioned for them to leave the kitchen. Sam helped her to stand, then led her to the sofa. They sat and she snuggled against him. He would have encouraged her attentions, but he was curious about what was on her mind. "Renee, I love you. Whenever you wanna tell me is fine."

He wouldn't pressure her, but didn't want her to think he'd forgotten. Although, as she continued to cuddle, maybe this would take precedence. Sam would let Renee dictate their pace. If they happened to make love first....

It had been so long and Sam was ready. He kissed her and she responded and for several minutes they necked, which stirred such longing within Sam that if she didn't tell him now, she'd just have to wait. He pulled away, catching his breath, then he smiled. "You wanna go to bed?"

She giggled, then spoke. "I love you so much. I don't tell you that enough, but I really, really love you."

"I love you too baby." But he knew that wasn't what she'd wanted to tell him.

Renee nodded, then she sighed. As she did, Sam's libido plummeted, which didn't surprise him. That happened occasionally, but depending on what she had to say, maybe it wouldn't take much to retrieve it. Sam stroked her face, then traced around her exceptional eyes. Then he kissed her cheeks, near those eyes. Her skin was so soft, her heart was too. She could be as crusty as Stanford Taylor, at times. But underneath was a tender, precious woman that Sam would die for. He would do anything to keep Renee safe and make her happy.

The latter had only been true for the last few months. Sam swallowed that unpleasant fact, then grasped her hands, offering a quick squeeze. "Baby, what is it?"

"Marek knows. He knows about Eric."

For a few seconds, Sam had no idea what Renee meant; was something wrong with Eric of which Sam wasn't aware? Sam stared at his wife, trying to ascertain what in the world Eric could be keeping from him. Then the full meaning of Renee's statement pummeled Sam like bricks falling from the sky, hard lumps that seemed impossible to believe, yet they fell in the same manner in which Eric landed when he was changing from a bird back into a man. "He knows," Sam mumbled. Then he shook his head. "Are you serious? How could he know?"

Eric hadn't altered form in over a year. Sam was glad for it, but occasionally he wondered how hard the next transformation might be, and for how long it would last. Seth seemed all right and Sam used that man's health as a yardstick. Eric's father was dead and while so was Stanford's mother, Sam had no concern that Eric's dealer would need that kind of care. Renee was seeing Marek, no use for Eric to change form for her either. How in the world would Marek know unless....

Unless Eric had told him. Sam stumbled over that; why would Marek need to know? Only Sam and Renee knew and jealousy reared within Sam. It took him a moment to quell that unpleasant feeling, then several deep breaths followed. If Eric felt it necessary to reveal that detail, Sam had to respect that decision just like he'd had to accept Laurie and Stanford being together. This didn't have a thing to do with Sam; this was about Eric and his pastor and.... "So, how'd this come up, I mean...." Sam inhaled again, letting it out as slowly as possible. "Did he just say it or...."

Renee shook her head. "No, although he did a lot of the talking. I wonder if that's normal, I mean, when you're at work, the vets do the talking, right?"

Sam nodded. "Sometimes I don't say anything."

"Yeah well, I don't know if Polish therapists are that way." She grinned briefly, which again made Sam wary. Then her mirth slipped away. "He asked me about the blue barn, if I missed it. I said that yeah I did, but I knew others were enjoying it." Renee took a deep breath, exhaling quickly. "He asked what I saw in it, or rather, he asked if he could ask. He's so polite, you know. I told him I saw farm animals, pigs and chickens, and then, oh Sam, every time I think about that barn, I end up seeing poultry inside it, which now of course, well, it's not a big deal anymore. But I must've frowned or something, because as soon as I said chickens, Marek stared at me. And I couldn't look away from him. I know he's just a minister, but he might as well be a priest. I never can look away from either Father Markham or Father Riley. I think Father Markham's harder to ignore, maybe because he's younger or...."

"Renee, how does he know?"

"Oh, well, he asked me about poultry, was that due to all your cooking or was there another connotation. He's so well spoken, I mean, his English is so good. Connotation he said, and I, well, he is just like a priest, and I couldn't lie, I mean, I said it was due to all the hawks Eric had painted. Which is close, I mean, I assumed he'd think it was the truth. Sam, when you're done with confession, do you feel like Father Markham knows when you've left something out?"

Sam nodded absently, then shook himself. "What, uh, I dunno. Renee, did Marek tell you point blank that he knows about Eric?"

"Well, not point blank. That would've been a little much for my first real therapy session honey."

Her tone was back to its brassy inflection, which made Sam's heart leap. He hadn't heard that brazenness in ages, yet his joy was tempered; maybe Renee was taking too much on board regarding Marek. If he didn't come out and say he knew about Eric.... "You're right. That would be, um, a bit much."

"Well yeah, plus Mrs. Kenny was still there, in the beginning. She's so nice, she didn't make me feel at all strange."

"Good, that's good." Sam spoke slowly. Then he coughed. "So honey, what makes you think he knows, about Eric, I mean."

To Sam's shock, now Renee tenderly grasped his hands. "He told me what he sees in the barn Sam. At first, I was just embarrassed that I'd brought up chickens, but then I mentioned the hawks, and he seemed placated by that. But that man's eyes, my goodness, so much sits in his eyes. He said that Eric has a great gift, not just artistically. But that he manages to convey such hope and healing in his paintings. That was why he wanted to see as much of Eric's work as was possible, why he arranged the exhibit last summer." Then Renee grew teary. "He apologized for bringing that up, but I said no, that's why I was there. And he smiled and he said yes it was, but he didn't want me to feel compelled to talk about things until I was ready. And Sam, when he said that, I felt ten tons lighter. The elephant in the room wasn't there anymore, well, not until...."

She paused, making Sam squirm. "Not until what Renee?"

She sighed. "Not until he brought up Eric again. He said that the first time he saw the barn, he was so taken aback that he wasn't sure how to respond. That he felt Eric had been looking into his soul as he painted it. Sam, his voice was, oh my lord, so pained, but not in a bad way. Pained isn't the right word. It was...."

She gazed at the boysenberry vines, then at the landscape. Then she faced her husband. "It was like why I was there, trying to deal with the most difficult part of my life. I love you Sam, I truly do. And I understand why it took you so long, I mean, to wanna...." She bit her lower lip. "To adopt. And even though it's the last thing I want now, maybe I had to understand you. I needed to know why you didn't wanna do that because then I can love you better, be a better wife to you. Sam, I just wanna be the best wife in the world for you."

He didn't search for any meaning past her words. "I love you Renee. You're the best wife I could ever have."

"Well, maybe one of these days." She rolled her eyes, then sighed. "I didn't know what to say to him, I probably sat there looking like an idiot. But he smiled, then looked at me. And this was when I knew Sam, without a doubt. He stared right at me, then said as his family was being rounded up to be killed, he was following a hawk through the forest. His mother had sent him into the forest to look for berries, but instead he spent that day, all day, following a hawk. He said he'd never seen it before, but it flew around him, settling on a low tree branch, and he'd been so drawn to it that he couldn't keep away. It nearly let him touch it, then it flew off, but not far, just to another low branch. And by the time he realized how late it was, he was so far into the forest there was no way he could go home until the next day. He fell asleep right on the ground, then woke the next morning to that hawk watching him. It led him back, not all the way, but most of the way. And when he got home, oh Sam, oh my God...."

Renee burst into tears, collapsing against her husband. She wept hard, then pulled away. Sam gave her his hankie and she blew her nose, wiping her eyes. Then she peered at Eric's paintings, but Sam didn't think she was admiring those on their wall. She was searching for the blue barn.

"He didn't tell me what happened to them, thank God for that." Renee then crossed herself, sniffling as she did so. "But he said that hawk had saved his life. The hawk and his mother, which made him go quiet. Then he looked at me, maybe he'd been looking at me the whole time. He said that Eric painted that barn because he knew, he knew...."

"He knew what Renee?"

"He knew that Eric knew far more about human nature than most people. I guess Eric told him about his dad, but it's not just that Sam. Marek said that a hawk had saved his life and he never expected to see that hawk again. But in Eric's paintings, he did. Marek knows why the mice are so frightened. He knows Eric is all those hawks Sam, I know he does."

After Renee stopped speaking, an eerie stillness permeated the room. Sam was glad to be seated; if he tried to stand, he'd be dizzy. He gazed at his wife, wondering if she had heard Marek correctly; why would he have said all that, it made no sense. Renee was there for the pastor to help her, not the other way around. Suddenly Sam felt foolish for having sent his wife to Marek; he might be a good man, a man of faith even, but he wasn't a licensed therapist, he had no qualifications. Sam should have asked around at the hospital, although it would have compromised Renee's privacy. But at least she would have talked with someone who could truly help her. All she had learned that day was far too much about Eric's Polish pastor. "Honey, my goodness. That's, uh, well...." Sam smiled, then patted her hand. "That's plenty for one day."

She nodded, then squeezed Sam's hand. "I'll see him again on Thursday at five. Not sure where we'll go from here, but...."

"Renee, why don't I ask for some names at the hospital? I mean, maybe our friendship with Marek clouds the issue."

Renee shook her head. "I trust him, Sam. After what he told me he sees inside the barn, oh Sam, I trust that man with my life."

Sam stared at her. She'd mentioned that Marek told her that fact, but had she shared that detail? She'd told him plenty else, too much for Sam's liking. When he next saw Marek, how would Sam greet him, what would they say, or not say? "Renee, maybe I missed it, but I don't remember what you said he sees in the barn."

Renee nodded, then stroked her husband's hands. "Oh honey, he sees his family, all of them. He lost his entire family and, and...." Renee choked up, but calmed herself. "He was the only one left because that hawk kept him alive. It kept him away while the Nazis, while they...."

Now she broke down completely, but Sam shed tears too. Perhaps a rational person would think they had all lost their grips on reality, but despite wishing to the contrary, Sam had to agree with his wife. Inside that barn Eric had put Sam's most precious desire, right down to the truth of Sam's shortcomings. And for Marek, an equal treasure waited inside that special edifice. Renee hadn't said it, but Sam knew that for Marek, his family was alive and well inside that barn. They were being held for safekeeping, Sam realized, wiping tears from his eyes, until the day Marek was reunited with them.
Chapter 91

On the morning Jane turned one year old, Lynne woke to the sounds of that baby, but Jane wasn't crying. Lynne concentrated, trying to discern her daughter's needs, but Jane merely babbled, allowing a mother time to use the toilet, then slip into her robe. Eric didn't stir, but Lynne was glad, unsure of when he actually came to bed. He had gone upstairs with her, they had made love, but then Lynne fell asleep, aware that Eric would probably outlast her. He was working on a painting and who knew how long he'd stayed up with it.

Approaching the nursery door, Lynne hesitated as Jane continued to jabber, but she didn't say Ma-ma or Da-da as she often did. Her cadence was different; to Lynne's slight bemusement, it sounded Polish. A mother smiled, amazed at her child's emerging brilliance. Then sentiment pushed Lynne into the nursery, where exactly one year ago she had given birth to the infant now starting to fuss. But as soon as Lynne and her daughter made eye contact, Jane giggled, standing up in her crib, rattling the side. "Ma-ma!" the child exclaimed. "Ma-ma!"

Reaching her daughter, Lynne hoisted the baby into her arms. Jane repeated her previous word; it was only one word, but to Lynne it was the sound of magic. Lynne smothered Jane's face with kisses, making the baby laugh. Then they sat in the rocker, but Lynne didn't initiate breastfeeding, nor did Jane seek it out. Jane merely snuggled against her mother while Lynne cradled this precious blessing, how she thought of her daughter. Then Lynne gazed around the room, which was mostly dark, but enough light shone through a break in the curtains revealing the furniture and decorations. However Lynne saw a different view; daffodils in vases on the dresser, Dr. Salters and Renee at the foot of the bed. Eric was behind Lynne, telling her how much he loved her. And the little girl in Lynne's arms was yet to arrive, making Lynne wonder if she could possibly bring forth a child. Yet, twelve months later, Jane was giggling, and again babbling in that foreign tongue. Lynne chuckled, wishing she knew a little Polish, perhaps Marek could teach her a few phrases. Jane could grow up to be bilingual, although Polish was an odd language to know. Still, who knew the future? Maybe as an adult Jane would be a linguist, a chef living in Europe, or.... A painter, Lynne smiled, as Eric stepped into the room.

"Good morning. How late were you up last night?" Lynne's tone was soft, for Eric seemed to stumble into the nursery, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh my God, I don't even know. Painting's done though."

Lynne stood, motioning for Eric to take her seat. He did so, then she handed him their daughter. Jane seemed just as pleased for her father's attentions; did she know the painting was of her, Lynne wondered. Maybe Jane liked the scent of oil paints, which Lynne detected. Or maybe she simply felt the tremendous depth of her father's love, even if Eric was half asleep. Lynne wished for a camera nearby, or that she could paint, for no one ever captured how much Eric adored his baby girl other than the woman who was constantly pictured in that state of bliss. The painting downstairs was of Jane and her mother in the garden, surrounded by daffodils. That Eric could finish it late at night was a testament to his talents and a reminder to Lynne of how much he loved them both. Not that she required that prompt; maybe Eric merely needed to give it. But Lynne didn't worry that it was due to an impending departure. All was relatively calm on the East Coast and other than Renee, no one here required a visit from an errant hawk. Constance Taylor's funeral would be on Saturday, according to Laurie, who also said that the family seemed to be accepting her death with a modicum of peace. Laurie wished he and Stanford could be at Jane's party, but to expect them in spirit. As far as Lynne knew, Renee would attend in the same manner.

That pained Lynne, but memories from a year ago were sustaining; Renee handing to Lynne her newborn daughter, Renee putting that same baby into Sam's shaky grip. Lynne closed her eyes, hearing Eric telling Jane that very tale, the story of her birth, he said, which they were celebrating on that day, one whole year later. An entire year had passed, Lynne inhaled, and Eric had not changed form. She gave thanks for that and for the miracle resting in her husband's arms. Then she joined her family, kneeling at Eric's side. While Jane continued to jabber in her half-Polish cadence, parents held hands, saying silent prayers. This life truly was a miracle both acknowledged.

That day Jane received cards from her uncles in New York and from Aunt Agatha, which made Lynne and Eric chuckle. Eric also had a stack of letters, from around Europe, which amazed the Snyders that the cards had arrived at all. Some were only addressed to Eric Snyder, painter, not even their state scrawled on the envelopes. As Jane walked from room to room, slowly mastering that achievement, Eric read through the correspondence, some of it in very poor English, but all the sentiments were the same; gratitude for this or that painting, or for all of them together. Many noted the blue barn, but other canvases earned praise, from the hawks and landscapes to the nudes. Some of the letters gave a return address and Eric would reply to those that he could. But that would happen on another day; as he set aside the last letter, he spied his daughter tugging at the sunroom gate. Then Jane looked at her father, a wide grin on her face. "Just what do you think you're doing?" Eric asked, getting up from the table, heading her way.

She laughed heartily, then returned to pulling on the top of the baby gate. But it was firmly wedged within the doorway and as Eric reached her, she started to cry. He scooped her into his arms, easing her mood, then he tickled her. "You're never gonna get in there that way. But since it's your birthday, I'll show you my present."

Jane stared at her father, her blue eyes wide. She nodded like she understood, which made her father smile. "You're a tease," he said, kissing her face. She giggled, then pointed toward the easel.

"All right, let's go have a look." Eric stepped over the gate and Jane clapped in delight. The room was a mess, but Eric now used it as his winter studio and Lynne didn't complain. He would tidy it before the party, but on that day it housed his current pieces, which leaned against the lower parts of the walls. Canvases formed a decorative circle around the room's perimeter, some of Jane, of Lynne, of the garden. Eric had been busy despite the cold weather, Renee's depression, and Stanford's too. There had been too much joy in his heart to not work, even if Lynne still wasn't pregnant. Plus he wouldn't get anything accomplished in April; maybe that had been the impetus for his recent spate of creativity.

Jane was quiet, scanning the lower half of the walls, where windows stopped and paintings were stacked. Some were in the studio, but the weather had been drizzly, and Eric preferred them to dry inside. He didn't know what would happen to these pieces, although the last time Marek visited, he suggested that Eric donate them to the hospital or library. Eric flinched at the idea of these paintings where Lynne used to work, only that her last days there had been so unpleasant. But maybe those of the garden, hung in the waiting areas, would provide families with something to consider other than the poor health of their loved ones. But what would become of those whom Eric adored?

He studied the picture finished only hours ago; Lynne sat at the patio table, which Eric had brought out for this canvas. Also for the party, if the weather was amenable, he smiled, staring out at a sunny day. Yet the wind blew, and in the painting, Lynne wore a heavy sweater, Jane well wrapped. But the daffodils were in full bloom, which had prompted Eric to begin this piece, thinking back to walking in the garden the day his wife went into labor, then how she demanded he pick flowers for Jane's arrival. Of course, they hadn't known it was going to be Jane, although good thing it was, for they never did agree on a boy's name. Jane Renee it was meant to be and Eric blew raspberries into Jane's plump neck, making her squeal. Then she grew quiet, gazing at the painting, making Eric wonder what she saw; her mom certainly, for this painting wasn't an impressionistic image of mother and daughter. Eric had taken great care to faithfully represent his family, the most precious people in the world.

Lynne's eyes sported the hints of crows' feet, but her smile was much like her liberated grin while seated on the stool. A few of the letters remarked upon that painting, how beautiful was the model, and how free she seemed. Over a year later, Lynne still appeared that unfettered, although tiny lines around her eyes denoted a change in her status, from a childless woman to someone's mother. Eric felt no need to hide that fact, for Lynne possessed that role from morning until night. He'd found her side of the bed empty when he finally stirred, yet he knew exactly where she would be. Then he smiled; he knew where she was at that moment, in the kitchen making that night's dessert. More pies would be baked for the party, but this was a special day, and Jane loved apple pie. Eric could smell the cinnamon from the sunroom.

Jane could too, for she started calling for her mother. Eric laughed, stepping away from the painting. "You know what she's making for you, don't you?"

Jane smiled, then tilted back her head in rapturous laughter, causing her father to break out in a belly laugh. "My goodness I love you." He kissed her cheek. "Let's go find your mama."

"Ma-ma," Jane said, pointing to the sunroom doorway.

"Indeed," Eric said, stepping over the gate as Jane clapped in agreement.

The trio enjoyed a quiet morning, then Jane was taken upstairs for her nap. Eric and Lynne also spent that time in bed, but only long enough to expend their passions. Then Lynne gathered laundry while Eric wrote a few letters. His responses were all the same: Thank you so much for taking the time to write, it's a pleasure to hear from you. He wondered if those rote replies would be appreciated, then he tutted himself. He loved getting feedback, especially from a vast array of peoples all over the European continent. They had taken the time to express their feelings, it was only fair to acknowledge those emotions, some of which were very intense. Most who wrote about the blue barn shared what they saw inside it and a few of those letters had brought Eric to tears. A great wave of memories had been stirred and many were connected to the Second World War. Not all those who had written noted their home countries, although Eric could make out some from stamps and postmarks. Those that eluded him, he could ask Marek for help. Then Eric winced. Might that bring up unpleasantness for the pastor?

A knock on the kitchen door took Eric from that thought. He stood, but Lynne answered it, and Eric smiled as Sam spoke. When Eric reached the kitchen, Sam and Lynne were still embracing. Then Eric chuckled; pie was cooling on the counter. Maybe Jane would get her birthday treat at lunch instead of after supper.

Sam released Lynne, then he turned toward Eric. "Well, good morning, or nearly afternoon." Sam's smile was merry. "Is the birthday girl asleep?"

"She is, but not for much longer." Eric hugged Sam, although normally they wouldn't have greeted each other in that manner. But it was the occasion, Eric knew. This day wasn't only notable to Jane's parents.

Then a small sorrow welled in Eric's chest. Renee was working, but they wouldn't see her that day, and perhaps not at the party. Still Sam was jovial, which Eric took as good sign. "What brings you around Ahern?" Eric asked. "Looking for a birthday snack?"

"Well, you know me. If Lynne's made a pie, I can smell it from my backyard." Sam chuckled. "Actually, I've got something to show you folks. But it can wait until the birthday girl's up."

"What?" Lynne asked, pouring three cups of coffee.

"Oh, just a little something." Sam sat at the table and Eric did too. Lynne brought the mugs for each, then joined the men.

"Well, you're welcome to stay for lunch," Lynne said. "We're having a fancy array of peanut butter and jelly."

"I imagine Jane can't wait," Sam smiled. "Well, she's probably itching for pie."

"She was actually," Eric said, reaching for his cup. He blew on it, then leaned back in his chair, studying his best friend. "Jane and I were admiring her latest portrait, but she could smell her birthday pie. Then we hightailed it in here, but a nap came first."

"Birthday pie, that'll be the Snyder custom." Sam sipped his coffee, then took a deep breath. Then he grinned again. "Well, I'd love a PBJ and whatever else you've got on offer."

"It's a deal." Eric appreciated Sam's light mood, the happiest he had seemed in.... Since last December, Eric realized. Had Renee changed her mind about adoption? Eric hadn't spoken with Sam about more than the weather or the upcoming baseball season, but Sam's tenor was certainly that of a man with better thoughts than how the Red Sox would fare that summer. Then Eric tried his coffee, which was still too warm for him to drink. Sam liked his coffee hot, but Eric would wait. "So Sam, you've got something to show us. Jane might sleep for another half hour, but I'm dying to see what's up your sleeve."

Eric couldn't imagine what it might be and Sam's grin gave nothing away. "Well, it is more something a man would appreciate, no offense Lynne."

"None taken," she giggled.

Sam's comment further stoked Eric's curiosity. "Let's go Ahern," Eric said, standing from the table. "I can't drink my coffee for at least another five minutes. Show me the surprise."

Sam also stood, then grabbed his jacket. "All right, but get a coat Eric. It's not warm out there."

"Okay. And maybe when we come back, someone will have sliced up a few pieces of pie."

"Now, now, that pie is for your daughter." Lynne smirked, then kissed Eric's cheek. "Out with the both of you. You'll be lucky if you get jam on your sandwiches."

"Mud'll be more like it," Sam laughed, putting on his jacket. Then he headed to the door as Eric reached for his coat, hanging from the rack in the corner. They left the kitchen to Lynne's admonishments to take their time.

The sunshine was pleasant on Eric's face, but the breeze was cool against his body. He walked quickly in part to stay warm and to keep pace with Sam, who headed for the gate. Sam tapped his foot, waiting for Eric. "C'mon Snyder. My coffee'll be too cold if you keep dawdling."

Eric didn't miss the glee in Sam's tone. "All right, keep your shirt on." He reached where Sam waited, then Sam slowly opened the gate. Eric followed, then his eyes grew wide. "Sam Ahern, you bought a new car!"

A white Chevy two-door sat right along the road, a little dirt splashed along the rear wheels. The car looked as if other than the bit of mud, Sam had driven it straight from a dealer's lot. Eric walked around the vehicle, a Bel Air, he noted on the back, his heart pounding. His and Lynne's was getting old, and as soon as they were pregnant again, Eric would buy a larger vehicle. Then Eric stared at Sam; this wasn't for a family, what with only two doors. Had the Aherns firmly decided against adoption? "Boy Sam, this's something special." Then Eric paused. "Yup, this's quite a vehicle."

"Well, Renee's gone Monday through Friday now, and we had the extra money. Decided it was time to get us another car."

"Well, you sure picked a nice one." Eric peered through the driver's window. "When'd you get it?"

"About forty-five minutes ago," Sam chuckled. "Renee knows, we talked about it yesterday, although I'll surprise her at...." Sam cleared his throat. "Well, not at lunchtime. Looks like I'm having birthday peanut butter sandwiches with you all."

"Oh hey, don't feel the need to stay, I mean, you're certainly welcome, but if she gets off for lunch, I'm sure she'd love to see this."

"No, today they're short-handed. Thursdays are...." Again Sam paused. "Eric, Renee probably won't be coming on Saturday."

Eric nodded, but his heart felt pricked. "We were wondering. How is she?"

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from Eric. "She's, um, well, she's uh...." He kept his back to Eric as he continued. "She's seeing your pastor actually, for counseling. She'll go over there tonight after work. That's why I bought the car. We need another pair of wheels and...."

A shiver traveled up and down Eric's spine. "Well, yeah, sure. You're both working, can't be without transportation." Eric wondered how it had come about, Renee speaking to Marek. Then he trembled again, for Renee's probable absence on Saturday. Lynne would take it hard, for she had wanted to share that day with her best friend, who was also Jane's godmother. Would Jane miss Renee, Eric wondered. And would Sam not attend either?

Sam then turned around, meeting Eric's gaze. "I'll be here for the party and who knows? After Renee talks to Marek tonight, maybe she will too." Sam stared at the ground, then to his car. "Eric, there's something I wanna tell you, or ask you."

"What?"

Sam took his hands from his pockets, but his arms hung at his sides. "Um, it's kinda personal, and if it's none of my business, just say so."

Eric stepped toward Sam, but kept a small distance between them. "You can ask me anything."

Sam nodded, but he kicked at the ground, bringing up some mud with his shoe. Then he scraped the mud against the new front tire. "Eric, did you tell that pastor about, you know...."

"About what?"

Sam glanced at Eric with what to Eric looked like nearly a frown. Then Sam shook his head. "Nothing, it's nothing."

Again Eric shivered, but that time it was from the wind. "You mean that I change into a hawk?"

Eric trembled as he spoke, only because it had been so long that perhaps he no longer made that transformation. But he wouldn't discount the possibility, better to anticipate the unexpected. "No Sam, I haven't told him." Then Eric sighed, for he had to be truthful, even if he had no proof. "But I think he knows. Don't ask me how, but something tells me he knows."

"He does," Sam nodded. "He told Renee some things when they met on Tuesday. Goodness, that was just two days ago. Time flies, I mean...." Sam shook his head. "That sounded odd, I'm sorry."

"Time does fly, I used too to, and maybe one day I will again. Sam, is Renee okay?"

Now Sam shook his head. "No, I mean, she says she can't be at the party, she can't be around Jane. I know she wants to, but it's just, well, too hard." Sam sighed. "But at least she's talking to Marek about it, or she's gonna talk to him one of these days."

"Well, sometimes it takes a while to get to the heart of the matter."

Sam nodded, then he looked at Eric. "Well that or that pastor's got a lot to say. He told Renee some stuff and maybe it's not for me to repeat. Well, I know it's not, but I also have a feeling that he told her what he did not only for her. I mean, he said it in confidence, but hell, he knows my wife, Renee gabs like there's no tomorrow." Sam leaned against the hood of the new car, folding his arms over his chest. "Eric, how much do you know about what happened to him back in the war?"

"I know he lost his family."

"Is that all you know?"

Eric smiled, then stood beside Sam, also leaning against the hood. Eric inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. "What I know about Marek's youth is strictly from what I saw in his eyes when I painted his portrait. He hasn't said a word about it to me."

Sam coughed. "And what'd you see in his eyes?"

"A huge loss, as you might imagine. Also peace. Whatever happened to them, he's made peace with it."

Sam nodded. "I know how he made peace with it."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. He saw a...."

Jane's laughter could be heard from behind the property's walls. Sam stood straight, walking toward the gate as if the men hadn't been discussing more than the Red Sox. Lynne stepped through, toting the baby, who immediately reached out for her uncle. Sam was happy to take her, then he pointed to the car. Lynne was just as amazed as her husband had been, and Eric went to his wife's side, quietly explaining the Aherns' new vehicle. But Eric didn't mention that Renee was seeing Marek Jagucki, or that Renee probably wouldn't accompany Sam on Saturday. Eric would leave those subjects for later, maybe during Jane's afternoon rest, or even for bedtime after parents had feted that baby's milestone. Instead Eric led Lynne to the Chevy, which Lynne thought was just beautiful. Jane did too, jabbering with her godfather as if asking for a ride. But Sam spoke about pie, also lunch, which made Lynne giggle, Jane too. The foursome headed back for the house, Sam and Jane leading the way. Eric gripped his wife's hand, wondering if not for the interruption, what might Sam have been ready to say. Eric had a good idea, but at that moment there were other blessings to celebrate.
Chapter 92

Late on Saturday evening, Lynne rested in her husband's arms, both seated on the sofa. Remnants of the party lay scattered on the floor, from bits of gift wrap to books and toys Jane had opened with assistance from Helene and Johnny Canfield. Jane would have happily played with the ribbons and bows, but those two youngsters were too excited to stand by idly. Lynne peeked around the room, also finding stray balloons which Marek had brought. He had claimed no party was right without balloons and while some had popped, a few hung halfway in the living room, the helium beginning to dissipate as though the balloons were suspended by wires from the ceiling.

Only if Lynne concentrated did she recall who hadn't been there, but in Eric's warm grasp, that detail drifted away. Many pleasant notions filled a mother's heart and some were connected to Lynne's long chat with Frannie. After presents had been enjoyed, pie too, those mothers spoke unhindered in the kitchen for what at the time seemed like ages to Lynne. Perhaps that was simply because it had been a long while since she'd shared her thoughts with another woman, or just in what Frannie revealed. Which wasn't more than a mother's love for her offspring and appreciation for yet another life to be celebrated. But to Lynne, Fran's words went deeper; while Renee wasn't mentioned by name, Lynne felt that woman's absence wasn't as painful as Lynne had assumed it would be. Occasionally Sam had looked slightly forlorn, then a niece or nephew would garner his attention, or Jane would clamor for him. She seemed fully aware of the guests' places in her life. Sam earned the lion's share of her affections, Marek on Sam's heels. Then Frannie, followed by the youngest Canfields. Even Louie held the birthday girl and Lynne had detected no lasting ache from that encounter. Jane didn't understand all the familial ties, but she had made Louie laugh, a sound that now bounced around inside Lynne's chest. All assembled that day had been pleased to share with Lynne and Eric the blessing that Jane was, and for those unable to attend, Lynne had indeed felt their love and good wishes. Laurie and Stanford had called that morning; Stanford had sounded subdued, yet his words were tempered with an underlying thankfulness that previously Lynne had never detected. The call had been brief; Constance's funeral was also that day. Still Lynne had appreciated hearing from them and she'd allowed Jane to jabber into the receiver. Stanford had actually laughed, both Lynne and Eric had heard that strange but jovial sound. Perhaps it had done Stanford a world of good on that particular day to engage with an infant who in just two weeks would invade his life. Laurie had hoped that Jane wasn't offended to only receive a card, reminding the Snyders that he still planned to take their daughter to FAO Schwarz. Eric had reassured Laurie that Jane knew full well of that activity and Lynne had let her husband end the conversation. Both had expected to hear from the New Yorkers and at the time Lynne had wondered if maybe Renee would also reach out. But the phone had been silent for the rest of the day and now, nearly bedtime, Lynne didn't consider the only other person who mattered to Jane. Instead Lynne snuggled against her husband, who seemed aware of her thoughts. Eric gently stroked Lynne's cheek, but didn't insinuate anything further. They had been cuddling on the couch for over half an hour, yet too much ran through their heads for intimacy to commence.

The couple remained on the sofa for another thirty minutes, but when the clock chimed ten, Eric began to move. Lynne was sleepy, it had been a busy day, and church in the morning would initiate another round of tasks. Lynne would clean the house while Eric tended to Jane, or perhaps he might begin another painting. Plus now that Jane's party was over, the upcoming trip to New York would be foremost on both adults' minds, not to mention thank you notes to Marek, the Canfields, and to Sam and....

Now Lynne allowed that small sorrow. Renee had been deeply missed, even if Sam seemed jolly and Frannie was chatty. Laurie and Stanford had no idea Renee hadn't attended, for both of them had passed along their regards to Sam and his wife. When Stanford had mentioned Renee, Lynne had winced, but let it go without comment. Now as she sat alone on the sofa, a chill ran through her. Part of it was from Eric having left to lock the house. But Lynne couldn't escape that in later years, when she examined photos taken on that day, Renee wouldn't be among the revelers. Would Jane ask where her godmother had been or, God forbid, might Jane not inquire? Would Renee simply slip from Jane's realm and no longer be a part of any of their lives?

Lynne brushed tears from her cheeks, not wishing to dwell on such an unhappy future. Renee was speaking to Marek on a biweekly basis. Eric had shared that, after Sam left on Jane's actual birthday. Once PBJ's and pie had been partaken, then husband and wife had sat together on the sofa while Jane explored the living room. Eric had spoken softly, not wanting Jane to hear, also to ease into Lynne the depth of Renee's pain. Yet it was good that Renee was sharing this and Eric had full trust in his pastor not only as a man of Christ, but as one to whom such hurt could be revealed. Lynne understood that, it wasn't that she felt Marek wasn't up to the task. But Lynne had so wanted to enjoy this day with Renee, thanking that woman for the role she had played exactly one year ago, and to confirm Renee's position within Jane's life. Then Lynne took a deep breath, standing from the sofa as Eric approached. She went into his embrace, realizing no matter how badly she might want Renee near, it was out of her hands.

As Eric crooned how much he loved her, Lynne nodded. She also prayed, seeking peace and patience. This with Renee would have to run its course, just like other events Lynne had experienced. It wasn't like Renee was going to turn into a hawk and fly away. After an appropriate amount of time, Renee would return to their lives. Lynne smiled at herself, then kissed her husband. Eric reciprocated, then chuckled. "Are you okay?"

Lynne nodded, then caressed his face. "All things in God's time, isn't that right?"

Eric stroked around her eyes. "That's about everything in a nutshell. Are you ready for bed?"

"I am." Then Lynne giggled. One year ago, the idea of lovemaking was a remote consideration. Yet twelve whole months had passed, some of those days dismal and confusing. But many had been filled with pleasure, and as Eric led her to the stairs, Lynne couldn't deny the bliss which emanated from this man and all they had endured. As they took the stairs, again she prayed for those she considered family and that as this evening came to a close, partners were wrapped next to those they loved. That was how Lynne fell asleep, entwined in Eric's arms, no worries to plague her.

The next morning, the Snyders woke early, Jane eager to continue the celebrations. She was the center of attention at St. Matthew's, news of her birthday making the rounds. After the service, mother and daughter chatted with a bevy of well-wishers in the foyer while Eric spoke to his pastor outside on the steps. Marek remarked upon how well the Canfields had seemed and Eric agreed. Time was a great healer, Marek smiled. It was just a matter of taking life day by day.

Eric nodded, then offered a sly grin. "I suppose day by day is all we can do. Thank the lord it's all we're given."

"Indeed," Marek chuckled. "Sometimes when I encounter Mrs. Harmon, I wonder if minute by minute is too much."

"Has she been around lately?" Eric glanced down to daffodils just emerging from the soil. Then he stared at Marek. "Looks like the flowers are behaving this year."

Marek gazed at the plants, then smiled. "Yes, thanks be to God. Now I just have to pray the tulips are as timely with their arrivals."

The men laughed as women began filing out from the double doors. Ladies said goodbye to the pastor, then met up with their waiting husbands on the sidewalk. Eric turned toward the doors, but Lynne and Jane didn't emerge. Perhaps Jane needed to be changed and Eric remained where he was. He wanted to speak to Marek about another subject, but that query required discretion. Not that Sam had alluded to anything so delicate yesterday; most of Sam's time had been spent holding his goddaughter or entertaining Helene and Johnny. Sam's paternal side had been stirred and it had pained Eric to see such devotion exposed. Yet, as Lynne had noted last night, all things in their own good time.

As one last woman gave the pastor her best, Eric stepped inside St. Matthew's, which was empty, parishioners with other places to be. Eric rarely visited his church other than on Sunday mornings, or the occasional Wednesday evening service, but the Snyders were still newcomers, and their presence on Sundays was what was expected at this juncture. Or at least to those who saw weekly church attendance as all that was necessary.

While Eric didn't feel compelled to attend a Bible study, he wondered how his, Lynne's, and eventually Jane's lives would revolve around this church. Would they mark Jane's baptism as profoundly as they had her birthday? They would be in New York on that date, where exactly Eric wasn't certain. Lynne knew their itinerary, or Eric hoped she had a better handle on whose home they would be staying in week by week. Most of the trip would be spent in Manhattan, but now that Constance had passed away, perhaps Michael wouldn't feel like hosting. Maybe they would attend church with Agatha, who had mentioned that in a recent letter to Lynne. Or maybe Laurie would invite them to his synagogue, which made Eric chuckle. Laurie was still going on occasion, but Eric didn't linger on why. He didn't wish to think about Seth, enough on Eric's mind right there in town.

"Da-da!" Jane's voice rang through the emptiness, making her father turn around. Eric smiled, then quickly walked to where his wife and daughter were at the back of the church. Lynne looked weary, but the last few days had been full of activity. Maybe when Jane took her nap, a mother might do the same.

Lynne released Jane into her father's arms and Eric nuzzled against his daughter's face. "Did you change her?" he asked his wife.

"I did and now you can drive us home. I think I'll catch forty winks when she does."

"That sounds like a great idea," Eric smiled, leading his wife into the foyer. He glanced around, but didn't see Marek. Perhaps the pastor had assumed the couple had already left, or maybe Mrs. Harmon had sought Marek's attention. Eric didn't call out, but walked with Lynne through the double doors. No one waited on the sidewalk, everyone was gone. Eric wasn't bothered that he hadn't offered a proper goodbye to Marek; maybe they would attend the Wednesday service, or perhaps Eric would invite the pastor over for supper. Sam's unfinished sentence still clouded Eric's thoughts, but maybe Sam didn't need to complete that statement. Eric had a very good idea how Marek had made peace with his family's demise and Eric wouldn't badger Sam for the answer. Nor would he nag Marek for it; Eric would wait until....

Low clouds obscured the sun, what initially caught Eric's attention. The day had been bright, if not a bit cool, much like yesterday, perfect early spring weather. As the sun momentarily disappeared, Eric looked around, then spotted Marek far down the street, kneeling beside a young boy who seemed to have fallen. Eric saw the cause for the spill; roller skates lay in a heap near the boy's feet. Marek helped the youth to stand, then collected the skates as the boy brushed off his trousers, both breaking into smiles. The lad looked around eight or nine, with brown hair, but from a distance, Eric spied the resemblance between the pastor and his charge. Then Eric chuckled; that painting was now being viewed all over Europe. Yet, it was right in front of Eric and Lynne, who also stared at the scene.

Both Snyders knew this child wasn't a member of St. Matthew's, merely a local who had gotten his feet tangled. Marek patted the boy's shoulder while the youngster thanked him for lessening his fall. Marek advised the lad to get some knee pads, lest his mother scold him for torn trousers. The boy laughed, then ran off, waving with one hand, skates dangling from his other. The boy probably realized that Marek wasn't only his neighbor, but did the youngster understand what now Eric saw as clearly as the blue sky, which no longer was obscured by clouds, making Eric break into a small sweat.

As he mopped his brow, he glanced toward the pastor, who nodded at the trio. Then Marek met Eric's gaze. They stared at each other as another wave of Marek's history tumbled into Eric's consciousness, confirming what Sam had alluded to days before. Eric didn't ponder that someone else roamed this earth with similar hawk-like tendencies; now Eric allowed for miracles, which before he had never considered his odd existence. But a miracle had saved Marek Jagucki's life, just like the marvel of Eric's daughter, who called for her pastor in a Polish-sounding voice.

"Ah, now I can give you all a proper send-off." Marek took the squirming girl from her mother's arms. He kissed Jane's cheek, then tickled her chin. "But first I had to rescue some trousers from yet another session under a mother's sewing machine."

"Is he all right?" Lynne asked.

"Oh, nothing hurt but a bit of pride, which at his young age could use a bruising now and again." Marek laughed, then hoisted Jane into the air. "Now to Miss Jane here, I wish another beautiful year of life and very few tumbles. And of course, many slices of your exquisite pie." Marek smiled at Lynne. Then slowly he gazed at Eric. "And goodness knows how many sittings as the daughter of an exceptional painter."

Lynne giggled, but Eric remained stoic. He nodded at Marek, conveying how yet another truth had been shared without any words spoken. Marek nodded back as Lynne issued an invite for lunch. Eric wasn't at all surprised that the pastor begged off, then accepted an invitation to supper on Friday night. Eric understood the delay; Wednesday evenings were taken and now so were Tuesdays and Thursdays, spent counseling Renee. What had been revealed, in merely a gaze, required a few days of contemplation for both men. But by Friday, Eric expected a discourse to occur and while he wasn't certain if Lynne would be privy to the conversation, there was much for Eric and his pastor to discuss.

It was to Eric that Jane was handed over, the men again sharing one more glance. Lynne was oblivious, chattering about what kind of pie to bake. Absently Marek mentioned pumpkin, which placated Lynne. Yet in Marek's faraway tone, a painter detected layers of history as if Eric was standing in front of the blue barn. For the first time, Eric could envision that edifice, but neither as himself nor as the hawk he'd been when first encountering it. There was no falcon or mice; a smoky haze swirled up from the structure, laughing soldiers gathered round, gesturing to those trapped inside.

Eric blinked, but the image didn't budge. Taking a deep breath, he shook Marek's outstretched hand as Jane whimpered. Lynne collected the baby, not noticing how the men's gazes never left the other. Eric released Marek's hand, then nodded while Lynne offered their goodbyes, repeating the supper invitation over Jane's Polish-tinged jabbering. Eric escorted his family to their car, then drove home, allowing Lynne's soothing voice to calm his racing heart. When she grasped his hand, he gripped back with force. The rest of the trip was in silence, buffered by Jane's sing-song murmurs from the back seat.
Chapter 93

On Wednesday morning, Renee drove the new car to work. Sam had made excuses the past two days, but Renee had patiently outwaited him, where before she would have badgered her husband. As she parked along the street, she wondered about that alteration of her personality, and if it would last.

She didn't show off the new vehicle until lunchtime and her colleagues were suitably impressed. None asked how the Aherns might have afforded such a luxury, although one older nurse, Vivian Kramer, smiled slyly when Renee mentioned that Sam had bought the car last week. Slight contempt had edged Renee's tone and Vivian patted Renee's shoulder, noting that men simply assumed women didn't care about automobiles. Vivian remarked that it was she who had taught her younger brothers to drive, and that she preferred a manual transmission. Renee laughed, for Vivian must be close to retirement age. They spoke about it later during a quiet moment in the office. Ritchie had taught Renee how to drive long before Renee was of legal driving age. When Renee's father got behind the wheel with his daughter, Renee had to pretend she didn't know a thing about working a clutch. To this day, Renee chuckled, Gene still thought he'd been the one to instruct Renee how to shift gears.

All the way home Renee considered that moment, also how in just a few short months she had grown comfortable working at the doctor's office. Part of her ease was the few nurses employed there and that the doctor, Mark Howard, was a rather progressive physician, although he too wasn't far from hanging up his stethoscope. But Vivian was the senior nurse, and sometimes seemed to know more about the patients than Dr. Howard. Vivian was a widow, and her only child, a son, had been killed in World War II. Yet, she never acted like that tragedy had placed a damper over her life. Nor did she seem affected by her widowhood. Renee didn't know when Vivian's husband had died; it wasn't a topic that came up in conversation. As Renee reached her street, she forgot all about learning to drive. If Sam hadn't come home from Korea, Renee would have been widowed as well.

She parked in the driveway beside the old car. The vehicles were now referred to as the old car and the new car, but tomorrow Renee imagined she'd be back to the old car. She didn't mind, it was simply nice now having two of them. No longer would Sam have to take her to work, which in Renee's mind instantly translated to no longer would she and Sam have to avoid certain subjects. She shivered, then stared at her front door. Sam was inside, supper was waiting. When arriving home last night she'd had the old car, but hadn't come straight from work. She had driven from St. Matthew's after chatting with Marek, mostly about what it was like having two automobiles. Had she even spoken about.... Again Renee shuddered. No mention of the Snyders had been made by either Renee or Marek. Then she giggled; no longer was he Pastor Jagucki. But for how long was Marek going to let her get away with not talking about what she was supposed to be working through?

Renee got out of the car, locked it, then headed toward the front door. As she reached the porch, she turned back; the vehicles looked well matched, even if one was over ten years old. Sudden tears sprung from the corners of Renee's eyes; their driveway looked like a family lived in this house, which wasn't at all the case. Not that one of the cars was a station wagon, only that the Aherns had two. Two cars for only two people? She blinked away the stray tears, then shook her head. Opening the door, she heard Sam's gentle hum, then inhaled fragrances associated with chicken cacciatore. Sam had been making that meal since the couple had met, one of the ways Renee fell in love with him. How exotic, she had initially thought, and now, how many years later, he still cooked with the same enjoyment. How many years, she wondered, as Sam continued to hum. Had he not heard her step inside?

Renee stayed where she was in the living room, still in her coat and wraps. The scent of tomatoes, Italian herbs, and simmering meat took her back to after the war had ended, 1947. She was just beginning nursing school, living at home, and not dating anyone. High school romances had sustained her romantic yearnings for a few years, but at nineteen, Renee was far past such shallow flings. She wanted what her older siblings had found, Ritchie and Brenda the senior married couple in Renee's family. They already had two kids and Brenda was expecting their third when Renee bumped into an already balding young man just outside the market. Sam Ahern, as he immediately introduced himself, carried a full bag of groceries, yet he'd found a way to shake Renee's hand, making plenty of eye contact. At first she assumed he was staring at her odd gray-white irises. But the longer he'd looked at her, the more she found herself unable to gaze from his bright blue eyes. It was love at first sight, even if it took a few years before they were married. Renee had wanted to finish nursing school while Sam was dithering around in college, although his heart was in cooking. All that time both lived at home, then after Sam went into the army, Renee returned to her familial base. It was a short-lived stay that was sometimes interrupted by Ritchie's presence. Then Sam came back and once he was discharged from the VA hospital, they bought this very house. Renee had saved all her earnings and she worked full time. On one income the Aherns had managed to pay their mortgage, few other expenses for them to meet.

Sometimes when Ritchie was drunk, he mentioned this to Renee, how lucky she and Sam truly were. Kids cost an arm and a leg, he'd drawl, to which Renee always smiled politely. She never chastised her brother, for a couple of reasons, one being that even if Ritchie was totally smashed, he never said this around Renee's husband. The other was that Ritchie was right. Her sisters and sisters-in-law had inadvertently noted the same idea, although none ever broached that if they'd had fewer children, the costs wouldn't be so high. Maybe they never considered that fact, but then none of them worked, associating in tight Catholic cliques that didn't permit such nonsense. Yet Renee spent much of her time around a variety of women, or she had when working at the hospital. She'd never dwelled much in the Catholic sphere there, mostly because her best friend hadn't shared Renee's faith.

Renee swallowed hard, then sighed. Then she grimaced as Sam still hummed. How long had she been standing there, wasn't he starting to worry? She glanced at the clock on the far wall; it was only five thirty. Maybe he was already used to her late nights when she saw Marek. On Tuesdays and Thursdays she didn't get home until six, perhaps that was Sam's timing now for supper. The cacciatore smelled done, but there were still the egg noodles to cook, and Renee didn't hear him filling a pot of water. All he did was hum, sometimes moving about the kitchen, oblivious to his wife standing only feet away.

If they'd had kids.... Usually Renee never entertained that idea, but if they had, Sam would know she was home because their children would have been outside playing or sitting here in the living room, watching television. They would have heard their mother drive up, then started clamoring that Mom was home. Renee didn't switch the roles she and Sam had possessed since their earliest married days; she had always been the breadwinner, he with a degree in history. But Sam's love wasn't for dates and events, but what emerged from pots and pans. Only Renee had known just how much Sam loved to cook and that all he'd wanted to do was run a restaurant. If he hadn't enlisted, that would have been his aim, much to his parents' chagrin. But Sam was different from the men in his family, who either worked white collar jobs or wore a collar. Older brother Ted was a priest and younger brother Henry was just as devoted to the church without having been ordained. The Aherns were a quieter clan than the Nolans, or as Renee would admit, not as prone to drink. The Aherns were more spiritual, she allowed. Most of them, Renee then permitted.

But who was Renee to judge Sam's youngest sister Joan? Joanie and Russell used birth control, Renee was certain, otherwise they'd be like all the rest, with too many mouths to feed. And here was Renee with two cars in her driveway, both of them paid off in full. Yes, she and Sam still had a mortgage, but there were no other outstanding bills. Ritchie and Brenda were up to their ears in debt, in part that Ritchie's drinking contributed to his occasional bouts of unemployment, not to mention how much it cost to raise nine kids. Brenda worked as a secretary and sometimes she was the only one with a job. Renee had never known financial deprivation, she and Sam were careful with their money. Well, they had been careful, and now they were rich. No way to say otherwise, what with a paid-off brand new car taking up space in the driveway.

None of Renee and Sam's relatives knew about the Bel-Air; Sam was waiting to tell his family until after they'd had the car a few weeks to make sure the vehicle was suitable. Renee wouldn't breathe a word until after all the Aherns knew, although she expected Sam's family to take the news with a grain of salt. Both clans were aware that Sam and Renee had made a healthy sum off the painting they had sold, that wasn't a secret. And everyone knew the miserable price associated with that canvas. Maybe Renee hadn't spoken about that with Marek, but one of these evenings it was bound to come up.

One of these Tuesday or Thursday nights Renee would have to mention it or there was no reason for her to continue seeing Marek. And if she stopped seeing Marek.... Then Renee choked, which immediately made Sam stop humming. Then he stood in front of her as if all she had needed was to make one noise, alerting him to her presence. Before Renee could speak, Sam's arms were around her, his face beside hers, his soft, loving voice in her ear. Maybe he had known she was there, but that she'd needed time to process certain issues. Maybe Sam was more in tune with her than Renee realized. She might be going to therapy, but Marek was patient, as was this man, who said he loved her, was glad she was home, and was she hungry? The noodles were nearly ready, Sam crooned, like that statement was some romantic pick-up line. Renee smiled, then kissed him. He tasted like tomato sauce, which made her giggle. "Been trying out supper early?" she asked.

"Just making sure it's good," he chuckled. "C'mon honey. Let's eat."

Sam tugged on her hand, but Renee still wore her coat. She smiled, then cleared her throat. "Okay, but let me get outta my jacket. Don't wanna get sauce on it."

Sam turned to face her. "How long've you been home?"

His tone wasn't facetious, which at first slightly peeved Renee. Then she glanced at the clock, which still read five thirty. But how was that possible what with all she had pondered?

"Um, well...." Again she stared at the clock, was it broken? The hands hadn't budged, yet ages felt to have passed since she stepped in the front door. She had been back to just meeting this man and, and, and.... And now it was 1963, they had been married for well over a decade. It had been years since Sam had been in the army, years of a life that Renee hadn't imagined when she'd met him. Had she been so wrong in those dreams of a bustling home filled with....

She had been incorrect, she realized, slowly removing her coat like it was a shield of armor. Cautiously she set it over her arm, still not ready to relinquish that safeguard. Kids either ate you out of house and home or they died in wars, leaving you alone. Vivian might not act like her dead son was a burden, but she must carry deep scars from such an awful wound. Becoming a widow might not have been all that difficult, Renee mused, what with that horrific notion already bludgeoning Vivian's heart.

What would life without Sam have been like, Renee suddenly thought. No children would have been hard, for she probably would have always wondered what kinds of kids they would have had. Maybe she would have met someone else, gotten married again, been a.... But she and Sam had been married an entire year before he went away and Renee had never fallen pregnant. Maybe their childlessness had nothing to do with Sam's injury. Maybe it was all because of her.

Rarely was this scenario pondered because for so many years it had been Sam to nix the idea of adoption. It was due to Sam that Renee wasn't a mother, but what if Sam hadn't joined the army or what if he'd been drafted, but never gotten shot? He would have come home still a mess, but wholly unharmed in the physical, then month after month would have passed with no babies to show for all their intimacies. Renee would have been like Lynne, or how Lynne used to be, assuming infertility was all her problem. But for Renee and Sam, that would have been reality. And maybe, even on this night all these years later, it still was the truth. Maybe Renee was never meant to be a mother in any shape or form.

Sam stepped her way, but left space between them. Renee nodded, wordlessly thanking him for his discretion. Yet she appreciated his presence, she loved this man beyond any words imaginable. She loved him so much that for years and years all she could fathom was that if they adopted a child, how much more would she love him. But offspring wasn't a barometer for affection. Children were often the outcome of love, but whether a couple had nine, six, or three kids, their love wasn't bound by that progeny. Or maybe it was diluted, Renee considered. Then she shook her head. Joan and Russell's relationship couldn't be compared with Ritchie and Brenda's simply by using the number of children as a measuring stick. Too many other factors complicated the argument.

Then Renee thought of Lynne and Eric. Renee had known that twosome for years and only in the last twelve months had a baby intruded. Renee clucked at herself for describing Jane with that adjective, but in a clinical manner, she permitted it. Then she wanted to burst into tears, for since Lynne became pregnant, Renee couldn't deny the newly discovered tenderness between the Snyders. Eric had become a different man what with an expectant wife and Lynne had certainly changed into a new woman, the sort of woman Renee never would be. And maybe that was just how Renee Nolan Ahern was meant to be, regardless of Sam's injury or any other obstacle. Robbie Carver wasn't supposed to be Renee's son because in all probability, Renee was infertile. And sometimes in this life there were absolutes which never altered.

Sam would never father a child and Eric would always have a penchant for changing form. Marek's entire family was dead; these were issues fixed within the universe. Like Christ, Renee added. Maybe some folks didn't believe in God, but that didn't render Jesus simply as a man. Renee took a deep breath, feeling a strange peace within her chest. All the years she had pined for a child had been wasted. She was never meant to be a mother and it was high time she accepted that fact. It wasn't Sam's fault, it wasn't Robbie's grandmother's fault either. It was the way it was, no more, no less. Renee wore a wary smile, purposely not considering that for years Lynne had felt the same. All that ran through Renee's mind was a curious calm, which had nothing to do with Sam's grasp upon her hand.

"Renee, honey, you all right?"

She looked at him, wondering if she should tell him. But if she told him, he'd only sigh, then maybe mention that Marek wasn't the right counselor for her. Marek was exactly the kind of person she needed, someone who had suffered greatly, but put it all behind him. He hadn't badgered her, but let her come to this on her own. And tomorrow she would tell him that and thank him for their few sessions. It hadn't taken long to reach the root of the dilemma, which was that Renee was the trouble. After all these years, it hadn't been Sam's problem at all.

"Yeah Sam, I'm fine. Just hungry. Let's eat." She gripped his hand, then gave a broad grin. "Smells so good, just like always."

He nodded, then took a deep breath. "Well, it smells good. Let's see how it tastes."

Renee laughed loudly; Sam was always fretting about his cooking, but only she knew it. It was why he changed recipes so often, well, everything but the custard. He was always looking for the perfect formula for chops, chicken, or anything else that caught his fancy. Sam took her coat, setting it on the sofa, then led her into the kitchen. Renee sat down, watching him fill their plates. Then she gasped, but as she did so, Sam rattled pans, not hearing her, for he didn't turn to see what was the matter.

Renee was grateful for the commotion, for it took her several seconds to catch her breath. What would Sam do when he learned the reason for her peace of mind? Would he seek a divorce now that he knew he wanted kids? Renee had no doubt about that; Sam ached for a family and he was hoping that Marek would change Renee's mind. But Renee's mind was firmly set. Maybe she would have to be honest with Sam, it was the least she could do. She needed to tell him the truth, but first she would inform Marek, maybe he could help her find a way to gently break this news to the man Renee adored, but wouldn't cling to. An icy chill ran up her back as Sam put a plate in front of her. If Sam wanted to be a father, best they split up now, giving him that opportunity. She loved him, that wasn't in question. But Renee would sacrifice anything for him to be happy. It was the least she could do after all that Sam had suffered.

All the years of their marriage, Renee had set a misplaced dream in front of her wifely affections. She owed Sam much in the way of reparation, even if he didn't realize it. But now it was time to pay up. Renee took a bite of chicken, but it was tasteless. She tried another, still no flavor. But she didn't wish to hash it out that evening. First she would tell Marek, then Sam. In the meantime, she ate her supper, complementing Sam on another fine meal even if seemed like sawdust in her mouth.
Chapter 94

On Thursday afternoon, Lynne mopped the kitchen while Eric tended to Jane, who ached to be near her mother. Parents commented that their daughter seemed eager to learn their specialties, although they laughed, noting that Jane probably thought Lynne was making a pie. After Lynne finished cleaning, she joined her whiny baby and chuckling husband on the living room sofa. Jane leaned toward her mother, but didn't seek to nurse. She snuggled against Lynne's chest as her eyelids fluttered. Within a few minutes, the baby was asleep.

"I kept thinking she'd notice that it didn't smell anything like pie," Eric said softly. Then he inhaled. "Guess she can't tell a difference between floor cleaner and cinnamon."

Lynne smiled, then kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Maybe her sense of smell isn't quite as developed as her sense of taste. Or maybe she likes odd fragrances. She doesn't seem bothered by turpentine."

"No, she isn't." Eric went to his feet. "Shall I take her upstairs?"

Lynne nodded, handing over the baby. Jane didn't stir as Eric set her in the crook of his elbow. Lynne noticed how big Jane was relative to a mother's memories of this time last year. Often Eric hoisted Jane over his shoulder, but now he seemed keen on keeping her asleep. Lynne was too and she wondered if their reasons were the same. Not that she wanted to make love. She wanted to speak with her husband about what was bothering him.

Since Sunday, Eric had been unusually pensive. Lynne had a few guesses, but wasn't certain about any of them. They had heard from Laurie, who had shared good news and news that while wasn't wholly bad, wasn't altogether right. The good was that Stanford seemed to be pulling out of his funk. Laurie didn't note how Constance's passing might have eased her son, but Lynne could hear that in Laurie's somewhat guarded tone. Stanford must have been home during the call, otherwise Laurie would have been more forthcoming. Eric expressed the Snyders' joy that Stanford was feeling better. Then Eric had grown quiet as Laurie shared the other reason for his call; Seth was leaving for Florida to visit relatives and wasn't planning on returning until mid-May.

Lynne had been standing near Eric, the receiver set between their ears. As Laurie spoke, Eric shivered, but Lynne didn't. She had grasped Eric's hand and he gripped back with all his strength. Laurie said that Seth had announced this last night at a family dinner. No one had argued with him, in fact, all of Seth's sisters were envious, for the weather in New York was still chilly. Wilma and Rose had said little, but that morning Laurie had spoken to his mom, hearing another side to the sisters' feelings. That while yes, a trip south would probably do Seth good, weren't Eric and his family supposed to arrive in a few weeks?

Laurie had been careful in replying to his mother, for he didn't wish to burden her, or his aunt, with his fears, which were now confirmed. Seth was running away, but what could they do? On the surface, his plans appeared doubly beneficial; retreat from the cold northeast to visit elderly relatives who resided in warmer climes. Wilma and Rose's brother Mickey had moved to Miami years ago, where his wife's older relations also lived. They weren't all blood relatives to Seth, but that was beside the point, what Uncle Mickey had said, and what Seth had repeated amid his sisters' chatter. The point was that Seth would be gone during Eric, Lynne, and Jane's visit, yet was that truly the best option, Rose later asked. Laurie had lied to his mother, saying that he didn't know. But to Eric and Lynne, Laurie was honest. He felt it was the worst course of action, but there was nothing he could do to change Seth's mind.

Hearing Eric return down the stairs, Lynne sighed. She had wanted to meet Seth, even if the initial introduction was awkward. Now once again that man was separating himself from.... Lynne looked up, finding Eric with an odd look on his face. He seemed as unsettled as she had recently seen him and as he rejoined her on the couch, she had no idea what worried him.

She gripped his hand and he clutched hers, but not with as much force as when Laurie had dropped his bomb. That's what it had felt like, although now with a few days to have mulled it over, Lynne realized she and Eric should have expected something like this. If Seth knew that Eric was a hawk, then Lynne shook her head. Who knew what Seth actually assumed about himself or Eric or anyone else? He was an artist, yes. He was also one of the most troubled individuals that Lynne knew, even if they had yet to meet. Perhaps it was best that Seth would be in Florida. Maybe Stanford would benefit from not having to tiptoe around that man. Stanford needed some peace and quiet, or as much as Jane would allow. He needed a boost to his spirits, but what Seth required was far more than even Eric could assuage.

Lynne took steady breaths, not wishing to rush her husband. Yet Eric's inhalations were choppy and he squeezed her fingers. Lynne grasped back, then Eric released her hand. He found her gaze and started to speak. Then he stopped. Lynne smiled at him, then patted his leg. "I love you," she said in a near whisper. She wanted to elaborate, but it felt unnecessary. Eric nodded, then stroked her face. Lynne closed her eyes, a wave of peace coursing through her. No matter what he needs to tell me, she thought to herself, it's going to be all right.

As Eric began to speak, Lynne remained stoic, but tears formed in her eyes. She nodded as he continued, his words said in a reflective cadence, also uttered with unique tenderness. She hadn't wished for this information, and he respected that, but the main piece he needed to relay required some back story. As he spoke, Lynne's calm was rattled, and she wished to flee from the sofa; she wanted to run from the house as fast as her feet allowed. But she stayed where she was as though she was her husband changing form. Eric never managed to halt that process and perhaps this was a similar moment of alteration. For if Eric was correct, and he was almost certain that he was, then the changes Eric endured weren't for him alone. Another hawk, in another place, at another time, had saved Marek Jagucki's life.

There was no rhyme or reason Lynne could fathom to this news, just how she had never comprehended why from the time Eric was a little boy that he had morphed into a bird. Yet, some parts of this life were beyond their understanding. As Eric took a breath, nothing more for him to say, Lynne inhaled as well. They released those exhalations together. Only then did Lynne open her now red, teary eyes.

Eric sported streaks along his cheeks and Lynne traced those wet lines, wishing to speak, but her lips trembled. Eric then noted how he hadn't wished to share all this with her, but that the burden of it was too much for him to carry alone. His tone was the same as when he first told her that he changed into a hawk, how did she so clearly recall that sound of his voice? Yet it was exactly the same, news that seemed so erroneous and implausible but utterly true. However this time, Lynne didn't doubt Eric. Years before she had thought he'd gone mad; she hadn't understood his words, or the motivation behind them. Now she nodded, then kissed him. When she pulled away, the weight of that revelation rested upon her heart, but not in a painful, confusing manner as in years ago. She sighed, then again stroked her husband's face. "Are you gonna confront him tomorrow about this?"

Eric gave a wan smile. "Confront's a strong word, but I will bring it up somehow. That's the main reason I'm telling you. If we disappear for an hour tomorrow night, I didn't want you worrying it was about something else."

Lynne nodded again, releasing another sigh. Eric hadn't wanted her to think it was about Renee. And yet, was this news about Marek more disturbing than anything about Lynne's best friend? Since Renee had pulled away, the void within Lynne's day to day, not to mention her heart, was staggering. Yet Lynne had weathered Renee's absence like she had Eric's last sojourn as a hawk, with a full reliance upon her faith. Yes, it hurt greatly that Renee no longer seemed a part of Lynne's life, or of Jane's. But Renee's suffering was even deeper, which Lynne knew fully well. Then Lynne chuckled, she couldn't help it. How massive were the changes within her to remain so tranquil in what seemed the most distressing circumstances. Seth was fleeing to Florida, Renee had removed herself from their lives, and Marek.... Marek's existence was solely due to a hawk who had saved him from certain destruction.

"Well, I guess it's best that he knows," Lynne said. "I mean about you. Especially if we're not gonna meet Seth next month." An icy chill traveled up Lynne's back, but she fought to ignore it. "Plus...." She sighed, then shrugged. "He's part of our family, he really is. Maybe it was unavoidable, or maybe...." She smiled, then placed her hand on Eric's chest. "How are you gonna bring it up?"

"I dunno, but I can't keep it below any longer. Maybe he can't either. What he said to Renee wasn't only for her." Then Eric also smiled. "Maybe that's why she had to see him, so he could tell her this, and she'd tell Sam, then he'd tell me and...."

Lynne nodded, then giggled. "Is that how it works, I mean, is it that obvious, but so veiled?"

"Maybe with something like this. Sam didn't wanna know about me. He had to see it with his own eyes, but that enabled him to hear what Renee had to tell him, and then believe it without reservation. Well," Eric chuckled, "mostly believe it."

"Do you think Sam thinks otherwise?"

"No, it's just so much to take in. But once a person can allow for the supernatural, well...." Then Eric laughed. "Probably due to his faith. Sam's got some pretty strong faith."

Lynne nodded, but also considered that what Sam had experienced on the battlefield might have enhanced his belief. But mostly it was Sam's religious convictions that permitted such bizarre notions to be the truth. Lynne didn't doubt that Eric's assumptions were correct. That a hawk could lead a teenager from death wasn't all that odd when balanced by the evil humans had inflicted upon their fellow man. If that was permissible, why couldn't one youngster be spared?

That evening a mother pondered all those realizations as she tended to her baby, then made love to her husband. On Friday morning, Lynne baked two pies, the pumpkin Marek had requested, as well as a peach. Rarely did Lynne bake peach pie, but she wanted to incorporate something new into her routine. Eric smiled upon asking her about it and Jane seemed pleased, wishing for an early taste. Instead, father and daughter took a walk. When they returned, both pies were cooling, lunch ready for all three.

Lynne didn't fix an elaborate supper, as Marek would focus more on the pie, especially with peach on offer. Vanilla ice cream waited in the freezer, but Lynne wondered if dessert would be delayed, or would the men choose to speak before the meal? Marek was due to arrive at four, a little earlier than usual, but Lynne didn't trouble herself about it. At three, Jane woke from her nap, and mother and daughter played in the nursery while Eric worked on a painting in the sunroom. He had decided to wait until they returned from New York to move back into the studio, which to Lynne made sense. Now a notion of delineation loomed over that trip, but first Lynne would be happy to get through that evening's meal.

Marek arrived promptly, at which time Lynne was in the kitchen, Jane in her high chair. The females warmly greeted their pastor, then Eric joined them, the scent of turpentine wafting with his entrance. Marek chuckled that all the appropriate fragrances were accounted for, although he raised his eyebrows at the extra pie on the counter. Jane babbled something, but couldn't give away the secret, which Lynne said would be revealed later. She hadn't meant to broach anything else, but her words seemed ominous. Marek nodded, then asked if he could see what Eric was currently painting. Eric replied that he'd love to share the latest canvas. The men exited the kitchen to Jane's protests. But Lynne said nothing at all.

At a few minutes after five, Lynne heard the rattle of the living room French doors. She had correctly assumed her husband and pastor had left the house via the sunroom, and during that time she had changed Jane, then set the table. As voices approached, Lynne spooned up soup, but by the time the men stepped into the kitchen, Jane was starting to complain. Lynne gave her daughter a cracker, which eased Jane's mood. But Lynne felt a chill as her husband and their guest took their seats. She studied both men's faces, realizing another topic had been shared.

She discerned that by how Marek wouldn't meet her eyes, and how Eric's shoulders slumped. If they had only spoken about hawks, this malaise wouldn't be present. Yet Lynne didn't wish to hear about that now. Maybe talking about hawks had taken very little time and much of their conversation had turned upon Seth's impending vacation. Lynne placed Jane's dish on the high chair tray, then settled into her own seat. Marek said grace, his tone subdued. The meal began somberly, then Jane began to giggle. Marek spoke to her in Polish, his voice more upbeat. Within minutes one small girl lifted the gloom, and by the time supper was over, it was as if no shadows lingered.

Marek helped clear the table, in order to more readily try out the surprise still waiting on the counter. Eric wiped Jane's hands and face as Lynne took out the ice cream, then cut into the pumpkin pie. But Marek said he would take a slice of that home; he wanted to eat what else Lynne had baked.

Eric laughed, teasing that Marek might indeed take home some pumpkin, but perhaps one thin slice would be enjoyed before the pastor departed. Marek laughed that yes, that probably was the truth. Lynne asked both men to take their seats. She put a tiny slice of pumpkin on Jane's plate, then larger pieces on the men's plates. Then she cut into the peach, inhaling a light fruitiness that wasn't indicative of apple or boysenberry. Those scents were heavier, but peaches evoked a change of pace. Lynne scooped a generous slice onto Marek's plate, adding a healthy dollop of ice cream, then did the same for her husband. She took those dishes to the table, then brought Jane's to her. Only then did Lynne cut herself one slice of peach, but she eschewed the ice cream. She wanted to sample the pie unadorned to determine if this fruit would become part of her repertoire.

The room was silent, not even Jane to squawk. Lynne didn't stare at her husband or at Marek. She concentrated on the peaches, which had been from cans. Yet they seemed as good as what fresh fruit would have provided to the pie; a firm yet tasty bite of sweetness that pumpkin didn't offer. Boysenberries were more like a seeded jam filling, but the peaches recalled apple pie, without the cinnamon. Plus even canned peaches weren't the same as apples. A peach was juicier, which this pie was, and peaches hearkened to a certain season. Summer was months away, but Lynne could feel its arrival. Her anticipation was measured, however, by a sense of change that couldn't be avoided. She gazed at her husband, then at Marek. Whatever they had spoken of was tied to that notion, but Lynne couldn't gauge the meaning.

Instead she ate her pie, watching as Jane did the same. Jane adored pumpkin pie, maybe that was why Marek had requested it. When Jane was done, she looked at the counter, then at her mother. She jabbered as if asking for more. Lynne smiled, then gave her daughter the last bite of peach on Lynne's plate. Jane accepted it without question, but once it hit her taste buds, she paused, then stared at her mother. "What?" Lynne said. "It's still pie."

"What'd you give her?" Eric asked.

"Some peach. My last bite, actually." Lynne gazed at Jane as she spoke, then a mother laughed. "Might be her final bite of peach if she's not careful."

"Well if it is, I'll be happy to take Jane's slice off your hands." Marek wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned back in his chair. "Now you've placed me in a quandary Lynne. I never thought anything could beat your pumpkin. But this peach pie is, well...." He smiled, then sighed. "It's probably the best I've ever eaten."

"And that was with canned fruit." Eric also leaned back in his seat. "Can you imagine if she'd had fresh peaches?"

"I think you'll need to plant a peach tree in that spare acreage." Marek patted his stomach. "And I'll earn my pie the old fashioned way. You let me know when it's time to harvest and I'll bring the biggest bucket I can find."

Lynne laughed as the men's jovial banter filled the room, often with Jane's babblings included. Lynne asked if Marek wanted any coffee, but he declined, saying there was simply no place to put it. While usually he offered to help with the dishes, this time he stayed seated as Lynne cleared their plates. Marek did rescue Jane from her high chair, and as Lynne tidied the kitchen, Marek spoke Polish to the baby. Eric joined his wife, drying a few plates. The couple said nothing, but Lynne was curious as to what the men had discussed. But she didn't want to rush off Marek; Lynne loved the sing-song nature of his conversation with Jane. That evening's discourse was no different, so whatever Marek carried in his heart remained there, not clouding what he had to say to a one-year-old.

Soon Marek and Jane were standing near the sink; Marek offered to give Jane to her mother, but Lynne pooh-poohed that and Marek didn't ask again. He started singing an actual tune, twirling Jane in his arms. She laughed and tried to sing along, but the song was known only to Marek. As Lynne pulled the plug in the sink, Marek was still crooning, but his tone was now softer. Lynne watched as he gently hoisted Jane over his shoulder, her eyelids droopy. She would perk up when Lynne dressed her for bed, but was already on her way to dreamland. Lynne was relieved for that. Only after Jane was asleep would Eric reveal the essence of what he and Marek had shared.

Lynne didn't need a detailed account of their conversation. All she desired was.... She gazed at Marek, who now held a sleeping infant. Jane was a year old, walking even, but Lynne didn't think of her as a toddler. Or maybe Lynne wasn't ready to consider her baby as more than just than a little child who required loving arms. Perhaps Renee wasn't available, but Marek loved Jane, his gentle Polish tunes lulling her to peaceful dreams.

"Here, I think she's out." Marek approached Lynne, then handed the baby to her mother. Lynne cradled her daughter, noting that yes, Jane was far away. Lynne smiled at Marek, finding his eyes were moist. He grinned back, unafraid of those tears. Yet in his chocolate eyes, Lynne detected sorrow, he couldn't hide it. But he didn't look away from her, as if preparing her for whatever Eric would later say.

Mother and daughter headed upstairs, but Marek didn't say his goodbyes until Lynne returned alone. The pastor didn't tarry, although he again thanked Lynne for the pie, pieces of which waited in a spare tin, covered with foil. Eric offered to walk the pastor to the gate, but Marek shook his head. He said he hoped to see them on Sunday and to have a restful weekend.

After Marek closed the kitchen door, Lynne didn't move, rubbing her upper arms with her hands. A chill was present, but she wasn't sure from what. Marek's exit seemed odd; usually he appreciated Eric walking him out. Or was it those stray tears with Jane in his arms? Did that sorrow signify something to do with his lost family or.... Lynne wouldn't speculate, not as Eric enveloped her. She leaned back, reveling in the comfort of his embrace. Then her heart began to pound, but not from passion. "What did he tell you?" Lynne said quietly. "Did he admit about, I mean...."

"He did. It was awkward, but only at first. Actually, we said very little about that."

Lynne nodded. Perhaps words with Marek Jagucki only served to get in the way. "Well, at least if something happens, I won't have to lie to him." She rarely thought about that, in that it had been so long since Eric last transformed. And if he did, it would only be to the New Yorkers she would have to fib. What she might tell them, she had no idea. But to her pastor, Lynne wouldn't have to speak falsehoods.

What might she say to him if the moment ever arose? Lynne shook her head, then squeezed Eric's hands, clinging to her middle. That led her to thinking about making love with her husband and perhaps conceiving another child. Jane was a year old and Lynne's cycles were now regular. Most likely they wouldn't have a baby that year, but perhaps in 1964. Then Lynne was brought back to Marek's face and those tears. "Eric, was there something else, I mean...."

"There was."

His tone was despondent. Lynne fought the urge to turn around, but she needed to see his face. Eric wore no tears, but deep anguish was etched in his eyes, which for just a moment were the color of Sam's. Then Eric's eyes were gray, and Lynne bit the inside of her cheek. "Eric, what?"

"He said that as of last night Renee isn't seeing him for counseling anymore. That she was the one to terminate the sessions and...." Eric took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "That while he hoped she'd change her mind, he didn't expect her to."

"Did he tell you why?" Then Lynne shook her head. It was enough that Marek had spilled what he had. Then Lynne shivered. Something was terribly wrong with Renee. She'd only been seeing Marek for a few weeks. That wasn't long enough to heal such damage. Lynne hadn't been a psychiatric nurse, but she'd cared for enough patients to know that when one left the hospital prematurely, they often returned more ill than before. Before.... Lynne clutched her husband, burying her face against his chest. Before Renee had wanted to be a mother as badly as Lynne had. Before Renee had been so happy to play with Jane. Before Renee had been Lynne's best friend. Before now felt like the painful knife of when Eric had flown away, leaving his wife with no idea to his return.

"It's okay honey, we have to trust there's a reason for all this. Marek kept repeating that, what he said he'd told himself after he'd found refuge in the church. He said that for months he couldn't begin to face what had happened to his family, that he only spoke about it with one pastor. But even then, at such a young age, he knew there was a purpose. Maybe it was the hawk, maybe it'd protected him as well as kept him alive. All I know is that we'll be leaving in less than two weeks and we won't be back for a month. And there's a reason for that too, just like Seth going to Florida. Neither he or Renee can outrun their problems. I just hope...."

Lynne looked up. "You hope what?"

Eric caressed her cheek. "I just hope that neither of them needs a hawk. It was strange to admit to Marek that part of my life. I can't even remember what I said, but I did say something to the effect that for most of my life I've been turning into a hawk. And he said there was a good reason for it, although he didn't say what the reason might be. Anyway, we just have to let Renee and Seth go their own ways. Maybe it's not what we see as best but...."

"But they're hurting themselves, and she's hurting Sam, and Seth's hurting Laurie and his mother. Oh Eric, what're we gonna do?"

Lynne wept, feeling none of the peace she had so recently known. Instead a dark cloud settled over her heart. Eric wrapped her close against him, repeating what Marek had stated over and over; there was a reason. All they had to do was trust.
Chapter 95

On Monday morning, Renee left for work in the new car. Sam had insisted she take it, mostly because that day he had nowhere to be. He felt it would have been criminal for it to sit in the driveway all day, and had said that to his wife. Sam hadn't spoken much to Renee all weekend, not since she came back early from her appointment with Marek Jagucki last Thursday night. There seemed to be little to say, Sam felt, as Renee had made many of her feelings plainly clear.

Standing at the living room window, Sam wondered for how much longer this situation could continue. In no uncertain terms Renee had informed her husband that their marriage as they had known it for years and years was now over. Renee asserted that she wasn't meant to be a mother and that if Sam felt parenthood was his calling, best that he start looking for a divorce lawyer. Sam had pondered that idea all weekend, uncertain if Renee truly believed what she was saying. Now he wasn't sure if the last few days had been some awful dream, like when Frannie lost the twins or when Renee told him that Eric turned into a hawk. Or when Eric had come home so sick and neither Ahern knew if he was dead or alive. Sam used those fresher memories as yardsticks, unwilling to delve into incidents further in his past. There seemed no need to revisit those earlier tragedies, not when he had so many right at his fingertips.

What about the afternoon just last fall when he drove Renee to her parents' house? Or the night Eric came over and Sam threw a glass at the wall? Sam gazed to his left; he could still see where the water had trickled, and if he stared hard enough, he could picture the broken shards as though they were harbingers of days to come. Now those days were all around Sam, there was nowhere for him to escape. No place for Renee to run either, other than to work in the new car, which now to Sam felt as superfluous as this three bedroom house for only two people.

He turned around, not looking at the wall where the blue barn was still missing. His eyes traveled to the hallway, down which were three bedroom doors. One was for the master bedroom and the other two.... They were so unnecessary, making Sam's stomach hurt. Renee had convinced herself that she couldn't have a baby, what sort of tripe was that? And even if it was true, although Sam doubted it was, their childless life wasn't her fault. If he had talked about his fears right after coming back from Korea, they would have adopted kids long ago. But Sam had put his pride above what truly mattered and now everything in his life was ruined.

Sam stepped away from the window, then looked at the empty space along the wall. He didn't know in which country the blue barn was currently exhibited; if he called Eric, maybe he knew. But if Sam called Eric.... Sam didn't want to talk to anyone, not about this. He couldn't fathom trying to explain how in only a matter of months his entire life had altered irrevocably. One year ago he'd been on top of the world, what with Jane's birth providing an unexpected but abundant healing. Then Frannie's news and.... Sam again stared at where the barn had hung. It wasn't Renee's fault at all, he sighed heavily. A gelding resided in that barn, standing alongside a mare, with ponies in the background. Sam knew that like he knew his name. He and Renee were meant to be parents, for Eric's paintings never lied.

All of Marek's family waited in that barn and Sam winced; the only person he might be able to speak to about this was the man who had been supposed to help Renee. Some help that Pole turned out to be. Then Sam chided himself. Marek had done what he could, but Sam hadn't done for himself all that he did for countless other vets, why was that? Had his and Renee's friendship with the Snyders confirmed Sam's decision that kids weren't necessary? Had all their nieces and nephews clouded Sam's judgment, or had Sam been like Seth, trying to pretend that serving in war wasn't more than simply another job. Over ten years had passed since Korea, but some of the men Sam counseled still felt that service to their country was like any other form of employment. But if that was true, why were those men in a mental health ward?

After Renee had slapped him in the hospital, Sam's only priority was to get on his feet, then go home to his wife. It was his body that was defective, not his mind, and once he could walk again, he was heading right out the door. He never spoke about his time in the army to anyone, except when he began counseling vets because there wasn't anything else for him to do. Running a restaurant, or even working at one, had quickly been discarded; Sam couldn't stand for long, nor did he feel capable of dealing with that sort of stress. But stress from work would have probably been a no-brainer compared to the tension of living with nine months of combat in a foreign country. Sam didn't consider Josh and Larry and how many others having perished on Korean soil who never even had a chance to come home. Maybe they were the lucky ones, Sam sighed, unable to stop staring at the blank living room wall. Those men were somehow squirreled away inside Eric's blue barn where no one would ever find them.

Sam approached the wall, then he touched the bare space, stretching his fingers wide. The paint was cool along his skin and he closed his eyes, attempting to conjure the canvas which was so far away. Who was looking at it right at that moment, and what did they see? Sam peeked out, then shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could go back to when all of this could have been avoided. Was there even one minute where if he had chosen a different course, Renee wouldn't be in their new car, driving to a small office where she could hide from the world and from the man who loved her? Perhaps not. Sam removed his hand, staring at the lines in his palm. If he believed in spiritualists, would they discern the very second where Sam went left when he should have gone right?

What would have been the correct path, Sam wondered, still gazing at his hand. Everything had been fine until he joined the army; why had he done that? He winced, then grimaced; he'd wanted to show his family, and all those Nolans, that he was more than merely a college graduate. He was more than the best cook among all of them, he was a man. Men went to war and those that came back were heroes. The dead ones were heroes too, but those alive now formed a brotherhood that would never be broken. Sam smiled, still examining his hand. How many men had he maimed, killed even, to be included in such a society? How many lives had been sacrificed so Sam Ahern could be exalted? How much of himself had he excised so others could say, "Well, Sam Ahern fought in Korea, you know. Can't father kids, the unlucky bastard, but he came back alive."

Sam thought specifically of Ritchie Nolan speaking those words. Tommy too had probably said such things behind Sam's back. Sam's brother Ted had tried talking to Sam when he first returned, but Sam hadn't wanted to bare his soul to his priest of a sibling or to his wife. Renee didn't know anything about Josh Bradley until Sam blurted that story to the New Yorkers.

Then Sam had learned about Seth. Laurie had a cousin who was now a wreck because of Korea, although maybe Seth wasn't the best example of what war did to a man. According to Laurie, Seth was already unstable, but Korea had stolen what remained of Seth's mental acuities. Sam had felt he was a normal guy, or had he? Maybe not if he'd felt compelled to join the military just to prove he was as masculine as anyone else. Now that Sam thought about it, what made a man exactly that? Ritchie was an alcoholic and Tommy probably was too, nothing virile about that. Eric was a painter, another artsy-fartsy occupation, but thank God Eric's bad foot had kept him from being drafted. Stanford had been too old for Korea and Laurie.... Laurie would have had the good sense to claim he was a homosexual. But Seth had chosen to fight, just like Sam had. What in their natures had felt so compromised that time in the military would assuage it?

And now, well, now both were screwed, Sam wryly smiled to himself. Seth might have come home, but he was forever marked by time in mental institutions as well as shock therapy. Sam's wife wanted him to give her a divorce, which even thinking about made Sam's stomach twist into knots. That's what Renee wanted, so then she wouldn't have to deal with all the pain he had caused her years before. Why had their lives turned out this way, what in God's name was this all about? Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, then looked around the room. It was void of warmth and color, even with the boysenberry vines captured in full summer glory. It was a room empty of the life children brought to a home, with toys cluttering the coffee table and floor. Not even the blue barn could change it, for that gelding, mare, and those ponies were safe behind closed doors. The only way Sam could retrieve them was to....

He shook his head, then took his hands from his pockets. Cracking his knuckles, he thought about how Eric had exorcised his own demons, placing them upon canvas after canvas. Eric also feted his passions in the same manner, all the pictures of Lynne, Jane, and how many of Sam and Renee's families, not to mention those of Renee, and of Marek too. There were none of the New Yorkers, although maybe Eric might get Laurie and Stanford to pose next month. Sam couldn't hide a small grin. Stanford would resist as much as Sam always did, but Laurie might just twist Stanford's arm....

Then Sam shivered; Eric no longer asked Sam about being in a painting. What if Sam brought that up? Would it shock Renee into realizing that if her husband was willing to do something so detested, maybe their marriage was worth saving? Maybe that wasn't the correct spirit in which to consider such an action. If Sam agreed to let Eric paint his portrait, it couldn't be about how it might affect Renee. But if that was a by-product.... Sam shook his head, then stalked about the living room. Then he stared at the empty wall space. Even when the blue barn returned, that painting wouldn't help Sam and Renee unless Sam was willing to.... Shit or get off the pot, Ahern. One of the two Sam, one of the two.

Sam smiled; Josh's voice was so clear, like he was standing right beside him. What Sam was pondering, however, felt far more ominous than any previous consideration. This was more important than choosing to enlist, maybe even more meaningful than asking for Renee's hand in marriage. It didn't top their actual wedding, for that was bound in a sacrament to God. But divorce was strictly against church teachings; it was one topic upon which Christ had expressly preached. Only for marital unfaithfulness could a man offer his wife a certificate of divorce. And if she ever remarried, she would be guilty of adultery. Sam didn't think about the man who might come after him, only about Renee. Then Sam permitted a small thought to himself. He loved his wife beyond reason. Never, for any purpose, could he imagine being apart from her.

Equally, what they now shared seemed as wrong as splitting up. He had to do something or else Renee would leave him. Not that she said anything of the sort, but eventually she would get fed up and that would be the end of it. Sam's heart lurched in his chest. No longer could he sit back and wait to see what occurred. Counseling hadn't helped, not that he blamed Marek. Renee was becoming like Seth, too afraid to confront the problem. Sam had been that way, maybe he still was. But the stakes were now too high for Sam to keep his head in the sand. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the kitchen. Grabbing his keys, Sam fought the sick feeling in his stomach. He had to do this, for Renee's sake. It might be the only way to save their marriage, no matter how much Sam loathed the idea.

That night, Renee came home to the smells of pork and applesauce. Another scent wafted, but she couldn't discern it, other than it was dessert-like in nature. She placed her coat and purse on the sofa, but kept the car key in her hand. Sam had installed a pegboard in the kitchen where their key rings now resided. Before they had only possessed one set of keys. But Renee's world would never be the same.

Although, she pondered, finding her husband hovering over the stove, her life would always be like this, with just herself, and maybe one other, over which to worry. Renee's heart had been stony all weekend after telling Sam the truth. Yet, a day spent around Vivian Kramer had softened Renee some; she had learned that Vivian's only relatives were a niece who lived in Colorado with her husband and two young children. It was the daughter of Vivian's younger brother, but that brother and his wife were also deceased. The topic had been broached during lunch when Vivian shared the latest snapshots of the youngsters, a boy and girl. Renee hadn't wanted to see those photos, but she'd smiled, then briefly glanced at them, the boy about Robbie Carver's age. Black and white pictures didn't do them justice, Vivian had sighed. Ann's red hair was the same shade as Renee's, while Paul's blue eyes were as bright as the sky. Vivian was going to visit them for Easter, what she did every year, as they were the only living blood relatives she had. Renee had been shocked, but Vivian hadn't sounded sad, only truthful. Some families were very, very small.

Coming home to Sam that night, Renee had to reassess her previous mindset. At least she had her husband. Then slight anxiety rumbled in her gut; what if Sam did want a family so badly that divorcing Renee to marry another woman was preferable? Renee bit her lip, then blinked away tears. Sometimes she could be impetuous, although it had never gotten her in trouble. Usually it was from talking too much, but her most loved accepted her ramblings. Yet, had she finally stepped over a line, might Sam have tired of her sullenness?

Cautiously she approached him. He turned to her, a smile on his face. Instantly her intestines calmed, although her heart still pounded. He held out one arm for her, but didn't speak. She nodded, stepping his way, then snuggling against him. He squeezed her tightly, a spatula in his other hand, tending the chops. Renee closed her eyes, wondering about their future. If Vivian Kramer could live alone all these years, only a few relatives in her sphere, maybe Renee and Sam could do the same.

Sam's grip was strong, but not cloying. He always knew just how to hold her, he knew her so well. And she knew him, yet could they get past this schism? For, as Renee felt his affections in that one-armed embrace, she also detected his need for progeny, but that was more from finally learning what that other scent was; to the left of the stove sat half a pie in a tin. Sam had gone to the Snyders that day, but at least he brought home dessert.

"Apple?" Renee asked, her tone chirpy. She hadn't had any of Lynne's pie in.... She blocked out the rest of that thought, but studied the pie. Then she inhaled again. It wasn't apple, although it wasn't boysenberry either. "Any custard to go with it?"

"Yes, there's custard," Sam chuckled. "But no, it's not apple."

"Pumpkin then?"

"Nope."

Renee was puzzled. "Well what, or aren't you gonna tell me?"

Now Sam laughed. He turned off the flame, placing the spatula in the spoon rest. He embraced Renee, then nibbled on her earlobe. She giggled, feeling a lightness within her chest, but not like the ease she had known just last week. This was honest, which made her wince, then she wondered if perhaps she had indeed been too hasty with Marek. Then she gasped, which turned into a soft moan. Sam had moved from her earlobe to her neck. They hadn't been this close in so long, maybe Sam had taken her words far more deeply than she imagined.

For several minutes they necked, then Renee's stomach growled. She pulled away, still feeling giddy. "You better feed me first. But we can wait for the pie until afterwards."

Sam smiled, although a brief pain flashed in his eyes. Renee concentrated instead on his grin, then on how he caressed her face. "I need to tell you something before we do anything else."

Now Renee gazed into his blue eyes, which were clear like water, as if a huge weight had been removed from his shoulders, or most of it had. Renee began to tremble; having spent the afternoon with Jane, did Sam want a divorce? Renee blinked, trying not to look at him, but those eyes, so kingfisher blue, blazed like lights on a police car, and she was drawn into his gaze, no way to pull herself free. Her lips quivered, her knees knocked, and that odd peace again filled her bones. She wanted him to just tell her he was doing as she had asked, then they could share one last meal, although Renee might skip the pie.

"I saw Eric today, well, Eric, Lynne, um...." Sam hesitated, then cleared his throat. "And Jane. But mostly I talked to Eric. Renee, when he gets back from New York, I'm gonna let him paint my portrait."

"You're gonna what?" Renee had been caught off guard by how Sam said Jane's name, as if the tenderness he felt toward that little girl had to be veiled. Renee felt pinpricks along her chest, then she wondered if that was from hearing Sam say Jane's name, or what else he mentioned. "You're gonna let Eric paint you?"

Sam nodded, again stroking Renee's cheek. "Me and the new car, so for a few days you'll have to drive the old one. Thought we could give it to my folks, the painting I mean, for Christmas. By then maybe everyone'll be used to the car, or maybe I'm just being silly, I do need to tell them about it. But, um, yeah. Eric was pretty happy, he's been bugging me for ages and...."

Now Renee caressed Sam's face, feeling stubble and warm skin. He had come home to her, but then Sam had been home for years and years. But suddenly Renee felt the flesh of a man she hadn't realized was missing. Yet this Sam Ahern was the very person who had taken her out on dates, asked her to marry him, then stood at the altar as a priest tied together their lives forever. For the rest of time, natural and heavenly, Renee was Sam's wife, regardless of babies, pies, or paintings. Or just one painting; had Sam actually asked Eric to paint his portrait?

"Are you serious? Sam, I, I'm, I uh...." Renee couldn't think of a proper response. Did Eric understand all that Sam had done that afternoon, did Lynne? It wasn't merely a social call or pie shared or even pie brought home. This was on the magnitude of what had occurred last October when the Soviets backed down over the Cuban Missile Crisis. "Sam, honey, why?"

"Well, why not? It's about time you know. Plus this way the new car will be documented. Won't be like how he painted that damn barn, but a new car's pretty special too."

Sam's tone was light, nearly mischievous, but Renee didn't miss the undercurrents of fear. Nor was she able to avoid the real reason why; Sam might want to be a father, but deeper was his affection for his impetuous wife, who wasn't at all perfect, or maybe not even deserving. Or perhaps that was the way to describe them both, yet, together they had been joined and together they would spend the rest of their days. Renee began to cry, two different sorts of peace tangled within her heart. One was authentic, the other a placebo. If she accepted the false calm, all of Sam's actions would be negated. But if she allowed the truth, how great might be the pain?

Sam's gentle kiss clouded her judgment. Then as his passions were stoked, Renee was rendered helpless. True peace overwhelmed her, at least when it came to this man. They wouldn't have children, but she couldn't live without him. He couldn't live without her either, and the proof of that statement wasn't in his kisses or the waiting chops, but in a yet-to-be started piece of art. One of these days Sam would sit for Eric. And when Sam did, Renee would be close. Not that she needed to witness or cajole. Only that Sam would require her presence. Together they were bound, Renee admitted to herself, as Sam's lips traveled back to her neck. Together they would remain.
Chapter 96

It wasn't until Stanford was settled in his large leather chair at work that he opened the most recent letter from Eric. The Snyders were arriving in a matter of days and once they were within the apartment, Stanford was actually taking off two weeks. He'd been working long hours since his mother's death, in part to not think about it, but also because for the first time in years, Stanford was planning a vacation. Often he considered his visits to clients as minor holidays, but this time he would be out of the office for ten working days and only in the most severe emergency was Miss Harold to call him at home. Stanford couldn't imagine what catastrophe might cause Emily to take such drastic measures; if half of his client roster suddenly died, that might be permissible. But that was about as farfetched as Seth changing his mind and staying here. Seth was leaving in two days, on Friday. The Snyders were arriving on Monday, the first of April.

Stanford glanced at Eric's thoughts, which encompassed three sheets of paper, but the dealer wasn't quite ready to digest the information. Instead, Stanford studied the large calendar that covered his desk, noting several appointments earlier in the month that he'd missed due to his mother's passing. Miss Harold had moved the most important meetings, cancelling those Stanford could skip. Thankfully he'd had plenty to attend to after the funeral, work which now would come to an abrupt halt for the first half of April. Stanford didn't know all that he and Laurie were slated to do with Eric, Lynne, and Jane, other than a trip to a toy store and an outing to visit Rose Abrams. Stanford wasn't looking forward to that because it wouldn't simply be Laurie's mom; it would be Seth's mother and God only knows how many other women all clamoring to hold Jane. But Stanford would go, in that he might be allowed to slip away with Eric to talk shop. Let Laurie and Lynne deal with Rose, Wilma, and the rest.

Stanford's father was looking forward to the Snyders' arrival; Michael had spoken about that just days ago when father and son shared lunch together. They didn't discuss Seth, for what was there for Stanford to say? Instead they chatted about a topic far more pleasant, and to Stanford's surprise, his father seemed quite lighthearted. All the Taylors were still touched by the death of their matriarch, but Stanford had been shocked at how his mother's illness had rendered them helpless. Now when he talked with his father, Michael exhibited a newfound strength. Melanie no longer sounded so melancholy, nor did Louise and Claire. And just yesterday, Laurie had remarked how much better Stan looked, not so ashen-faced. Stanford thought it was due to the weather, which was brightening up, perhaps in time to impress the Snyders. But inwardly he had to admit that no longer did he worry about his mom. She was dead, but perhaps that was better than the life she'd left behind.

Stanford didn't smile with that notion, but he didn't sigh either. He cleared his throat, then began reading Eric's letter. The greetings were typical, as Eric sent Lynne's best, then he included a story of Jane's latest achievement, which was to eat an entire slice of peach pie. Stanford blinked, then reread that sentence. Peach pie, a whole slice? Quickly he scanned the next statement, in which Eric explained that the piece had been small, but that yes, Lynne was baking peach pies, and that while the fruit was only from cans, the results were fabulous. And that she was eager to borrow Agatha's kitchen to bake one for Stan and Laurie.

Eric actually wrote out you and Laurie like he was one of Stanford's closest friends. Stanford set the sheets on his desk, rubbed his eyes, then picked up the first page of the letter, going over it from the beginning. Eric's penmanship wasn't different than in previous correspondence and he usually started off with some piece of news. Well, with a story, but recently Stanford had found them quite entertaining. This one was dissimilar, however, in that Stanford's heart ached, but not in a painful manner. It was anticipatory in nature, with a youthful eagerness attached. And oddly enough, it wasn't related to peach pie, although the idea of such a treat made Stanford's mouth water.

He loathed thinking it was tied to Jane, but he conceded she was the impetus for his sentimental feelings. Then he read further, that Eric had been busy working in the sunroom, but would move to the studio when they returned home. Stanford nodded to himself, glad that Eric was still prolific. Then again he paused, another sentence stopping him cold. When Eric got back to the West Coast, he would begin painting Sam's portrait. And that of Sam's new car, which Eric wrote was a Chevy Bel-Air. Stanford knew little about automobiles; Eric might as well have said it was a Rolls Royce. But Sam Ahern featured in an Eric Snyder canvas? Stanford leaned back in his chair, placing the paper on top of the remaining two sheets. He adjusted his glasses, then leaned over his desk, reading those lines again. Eric would move to the studio in May and paint Sam Ahern's portrait.

Stanford's first visual made him chuckle; how would Eric get that car, regardless of how large or small, into the studio? Then Stanford took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He wasn't going to capture Sam and his car within the Snyders' compound. Not that Stanford had any idea where Eric would depict such a scene; maybe the Aherns' driveway would serve as the locale. But spring would have arrived, a perfect time to be outdoors. Eric liked to paint in natural settings when the weather allowed. But what on earth had occurred to allow Sam to give consent to serve as one of Eric's subjects?

Then Stanford felt shaky. He stared at the coffee mug, but instead chose to drain the glass of water beside the coffee cup. Then he picked up the mug, but his hands trembled. He steadied himself, sipping the coffee, his eyes closed, his heart racing. What did he care if Eric painted Sam was Stanford's initial thought. And why did Stanford realize the enormity of that decision?

How deeply did the Snyders and Aherns rest within Stanford's consciousness? Maybe Laurie had said something about the Aherns, how Sam wasn't in any of the paintings Eric had done of Renee a couple of years ago. That must be it, Stanford mused. He'd certainly never inquired about such an issue. Yet, his heart pounded, his hands felt clammy. Sam was going to be a subject for Eric's gift. Just how would Eric depict that man?

Stanford took several long inhalations, then finished his coffee. Then he returned to reading the letter, which wasn't more than Eric's observations of spring foliage and how fast his daughter was growing. Her Polish was improving, which again gave Stanford pause. Then Stanford clucked aloud as Eric also noted how he too was beginning to understand some of Marek's native ramblings. That was about as likely, Stanford thought, as if he could discern another dialect. Then Stanford wondered if Eric had made any more paintings of that pastor. Stanford knew of two, the one on display overseas, the other hanging in the church kitchen. Eric had taken a snapshot of it, then sent it to his dealer, lamenting that while the photo didn't capture the true essence, it was a very nice piece.

Two paintings of that pastor, whom Eric and Lynne had known for a relatively short time, but only now was Sam agreeing to sit for Eric. Stanford couldn't get that from his mind. He couldn't wait to tell Laurie, then rued that he hadn't read this letter last night. He'd wanted to wait until he was at work, then again he grimaced. He hadn't wished to share this with his partner, for reasons that at the time weren't exactly clear.

Laurie hadn't complained; he'd received a note from Lynne and had eagerly revealed all those details, which centered around Jane's latest accomplishments. Funny that Lynne hadn't mentioned this business about peach pie, or perhaps she'd specified to Laurie that it was to be a surprise. Yet Eric had mentioned it on the first page. Stanford then had to wonder if Lynne had also told Laurie about Sam in a painting. She rarely wrote to Laurie about Eric's work, but this meant far more than merely another canvas.

Still, Stanford was peeved at that insight. Why was it such a big deal, not that Eric had written about it in that manner. It was merely another fact, but Stanford couldn't treat it lightly. This was the biggest news Eric had shared since.... Well, in a very long time. But what bothered Stanford the most was his own reaction. Why in the world should he care whose portrait Eric painted?

Stanford returned to the rest of the note, finding nothing of significance. But what could be of greater consequence than what Eric had already relayed? Stanford wished for another glass of water, but felt too shaky to stand. That also bothered him, but he defied his body, slowly getting up from the chair, weakly walking to the water cooler to the right of the door. He filled the glass, then drank from it, dribbling a little water along his collar. Shaking his head, he filled the glass again, but this time he took it to his desk. He returned to his seat with a plop, then wished that he'd stepped outside his door, asking Miss Harold for another cup of coffee. Glancing at the clock, Stanford sighed. Emily would be checking on him in another five minutes for that very reason. He could call for her, but didn't wish to infer that he needed anything.

That thought made Stanford smile. He was still seeing Dr. Walsh, only because to cancel the appointments would be more work than Stanford wanted. What would his shrink make of Stanford not wishing to call attention to his needs, or more intriguingly, what would Dr. Walsh say if Stanford brought up Sam Ahern? Stanford retrieved a black diary from his left desk drawer, where he kept his private schedule. His appointments with Dr. Walsh were noted, four during the two weeks he was taking off from work, plus another two per week for the rest of April. Stanford wasn't sure if Eric knew about those, maybe Laurie had mentioned it. Laurie hadn't minced words a week ago, that since Stanford's mother had died, a son was feeling better. Maybe Laurie had thought he'd been discreet, but Stanford hadn't been more than ten feet away when Laurie shared that detail over the telephone. How would Stanford work those appointments into his days when the Snyders were staying in the apartment? Maybe he could cancel them, perhaps he didn't need to see a shrink anymore. If Laurie felt he was better, wasn't that enough?

As the door opened, Stanford placed the diary back into the drawer. Emily Harold stepped into the office, a fresh mug of coffee in one hand, the day's mail tucked under her arm. She smiled, setting the post on the desk, then replacing the empty cup with the full one. "Is there anything else right now Mr. Taylor?"

Stanford gazed at the young woman; she was twenty-six and had been his secretary for four years, replacing his longtime assistant when Mrs. Jamison retired. Miss Harold was efficient, and Stanford expected to keep her in his employment until he retired. Or until she got married and left him. He shivered, then smiled back at her. "Nothing more at this time. Thank you for the coffee."

She nodded, but looked taken aback. "Oh of course Mr. Taylor, you're more than welcome." She scurried to the door, carefully closing it behind her.

For a moment Stanford was bewildered by her reaction. Then he sighed; rare were the times he thanked anyone for anything. His father had harped on that for years, but Stanford hadn't felt the need for false gratuities. He paid Miss Harold's salary to do these very tasks; why should he offer additional acknowledgments? Why were these notions even within his considerations? Not that Stanford was boorish, but he wasn't lavish with complements, except to his clients. All of which were men, he then realized. Yet, he was generous in praising Lynne's baking prowess, but to do otherwise would be beyond rude. Still, Emily made tasty coffee, and it was always fresh. By the afternoon, it might be a little cool, but to start another pot would be wasteful. Stanford wasn't tight with his money, but he was practical. Maybe if the coffee was as good as Agatha's, Stanford might insist upon a second pot, but as it was, the coffee was perfectly acceptable and....

Never in his entire life had Stanford been so introspective. Business had been his sole concern until he returned home, where Laurie was often waiting. One day would end, another would begin, and once again Stanford's attentions were all to furthering the cause of great art. Maybe he had allowed that aim to overshadow other aspects of life, not that his relationship with Laurie ever suffered, or that with his father. But Stanford couldn't escape how other issues, namely people, had intruded. One was missing, but Stanford's mother hadn't been a part of his life for many years.

But in her stead an entire family now stood and to Stanford's chagrin, not only the Snyders. The Aherns too, mainly Sam, who was going to appear as one of Eric's subjects. As Stanford gripped the mug's handle, inhaling the familiar aroma, he again glanced at the letter on his desk. Not wishing to burn his tongue, Stanford took small sips while pondering the weight of that revelation, looking forward to sharing it with Laurie later that evening.

Laurie spent his morning with a client, then he took a taxi to Brooklyn. Not that he thought he could change Seth's mind, but he felt compelled to at least see his cousin before Seth flew on Friday. Seth would be in Florida for six weeks, what Laurie pondered as the cabbie negotiated traffic. When Seth came home, what sort of man would return?

Seth had made one drastic change; he'd finally cut his hair. Aunt Wilma had been badgering him about that unruly mane, mostly in the terms of how Uncle Mickey wouldn't understand. Mickey Goldsmith was Wilma and Rose's youngest brother, a real Jew, what Wilma would say with a smirk. His wife Sheila mostly kept Kosher, one of their daughters lived in Israel, and the family was surrounded by Sheila's relations, some of whom had escaped Europe before the start of the war. Many in Sheila's family spoke Yiddish and if Laurie regarded his female relatives as cliquish, they were nothing compared to the insular nature of Uncle Mickey's clan. Or, as Rose and Wilma clucked, the Feinmans. Sheila Feinman Goldsmith might have been born in Brooklyn, but her outspoken relatives all considered Miami as home. Now Mickey Goldsmith did too and the only way Wilma and Rose ever saw their little brother was if they traveled to South Florida.

Laurie couldn't remember the last time his Uncle Mickey had visited New York. Maybe for Laurie's bar mitzvah, he smiled, as the taxi pulled up in front of Aunt Wilma's house. Laurie barely knew his Florida cousins, for Mickey and Sheila had moved south as soon as Sheila was pregnant with their first child. That young woman, Tovah, had chosen to go to college in Tel Aviv, and had met her husband there. Tovah came home occasionally, but wouldn't be there during Seth's visit. Laurie knew that, about the only other detail Seth had revealed.

Aunt Wilma didn't know much about her son's itinerary, for Seth had kept his schedule to himself. Laurie didn't even know for how long Seth had been planning this getaway; Laurie didn't merely consider it a trip. Seth was removing himself from New York, getting as far as possible but still within familiar territory. Although, Laurie grinned, as he paid the cabbie, Uncle Mickey's realm wasn't anything like Aunt Wilma's domain.

Laurie didn't have anything against Aunt Sheila; he truly didn't know that side of his family. Mickey and Sheila had been in Florida for over twenty years and maybe Laurie's bar mitzvah was the last time they had traveled north. They hadn't come up for Seth's, for reasons Laurie's aunt and mother never made clear. But from his older sisters, Laurie had learned that the Feinmans didn't think Laurie and Seth's bar mitzvahs meant very much. The boys weren't raised with any sense of their spiritual heritage; they were very secular Jews. Laurie would admit to that, but they weren't alone. It was the American way to meld into the culture. If Seth thought he was escaping the Snyders, was he actually prepared for the Jewish onslaught waiting down south?

Laurie wasn't going to broach that topic; he wasn't here to do more than wish Seth bon voyage. And to assess Seth's mental health so that when Seth returned, Laurie would have this visit by which to gauge Seth's mood post-Florida. Aunt Wilma's car was parked in the driveway, for which Laurie was glad. He hadn't spoken with Seth alone since coming here on that slushy, frigid day. All their subsequent conversations had been amid family, but Laurie didn't mind. Since Seth had announced this trip, Laurie hadn't felt any need to dissuade him. Seth was going to do things his own way regardless of what anyone here thought.

According to Laurie's mom, those in Miami couldn't wait to see Seth. Rose assumed they were hoping to find Seth a good Jewish girl, then marry him off, keeping him within their sphere. Neither Wilma nor Rose had lied to their brother about Seth's problems; all the Feinmans knew what Seth had endured last year in Minnesota. Rose was certain they also thought that Seth simply needed to find the right woman. She'd said that to Laurie with disgust in her tone, which had made Laurie smile. Not that Rose wanted Seth to marry a shiksa, that was the last thing she desired. Laurie never took offense, for who he loved wasn't even considered in Uncle Mickey's world. They probably wanted to make sure Seth wasn't like his only male cousin, and once that was confirmed, several appropriate candidates would be waiting.

Reaching the front door, Laurie knocked once for good measure. "Hello, anyone here?" he called loudly, opening the door, then stepping into the living room.

"In the kitchen," Wilma answered, but she joined her nephew as Laurie took off his coat. They embraced, then Wilma pinched his cheek. "You look thin. Good thing I made a cake."

Laurie laughed, tugging at his waistband. "Trousers have been feeling baggy."

Wilma stared at him, then she shook her head. "There's enough for you to take some to Stanford." She gazed right at Laurie. "How's he doing?"

"Better. Looking forward to our visitors next week."

Laurie said that softly as there was no need to state the obvious. Wilma nodded, then pointed upstairs toward Seth's room. "Well good. Not enough to take for all of them, but from what Rose says, that young woman makes a mean pie."

"Lynne does," Laurie said. "But nothing rivals your chocolate cake."

Wilma laughed, leading Laurie into the kitchen. "You always know just what to say."

"Why I'm so good at my job." Laurie sat at the table, inhaling the heady scent of chocolate. The percolator was rumbling, which made Laurie's stomach growl. Wilma chuckled, then sliced a large piece of cake, putting it on a waiting plate. It was set in front of Laurie, followed by a steaming cup of coffee. Wilma cut herself a much thinner piece, then sat beside him. Laurie didn't ask if they were eating alone, but he heard steps overhead. Wilma rolled her eyes, but she also remained silent.

Half of Laurie's cake was finished by the time Seth joined them. Wilma stood, cutting him a piece, pouring him some coffee, but she didn't return to her seat. Seth sat across from Laurie, not making eye contact. Laurie glanced at his cousin, who with his short hair looked like a different man. He didn't appear like the Seth from years ago, in part from his furtive nature. Also that his face was altered; he looked aged. Aunt Sheila probably had several women lined up to meet her nephew, Laurie thought, but even a twenty-five-year-old would be too young. The last thing Seth needed was to be set up on dates; he could barely sit comfortably with those who knew him best.

"So, you all packed?" Laurie spoke with his mouth half full as if they'd been sharing conversation since he had arrived.

Seth shrugged, then took a bite of cake. He swallowed, sipped his coffee, then met Laurie's waiting gaze. "I suppose. Gonna be warm down there, don't have to pack much."

"No, I suppose you don't." Laurie smiled, then toyed with his fork. Then he set it down, watching as his aunt stood at the sink, her back to them, like she wasn't in the room. "Gonna be downright muggy by the end of your stay."

Seth nodded, then absently ran his hand along his face. Before, hair would have been swept back, but now it seemed an odd gesture. Laurie wondered if he did that in Miami, would anyone notice? Then Seth sighed. "Not like it's gonna be pleasant when I come back here, you know."

"Well, May in New York isn't like May in Florida, or so I've heard. I've never been there, so perhaps I can't accurately say."

Seth took a deep breath, then nodded again. He ate another bite of cake, then put his fork on the plate, half of the slice remaining. "Guess I'm not that hungry. Sorry Mom."

"Mmmhmmm," Wilma mumbled, still with her back to the men.

Seth looked in Laurie's direction, but now wouldn't meet his cousin's eyes. Seth started to speak, but stopped himself. Taking one last drink of coffee, Seth stood, putting the mug on the table. He didn't excuse himself, walking past Laurie on his way out of the kitchen.

Wilma returned to the table a few minutes later, her eyes teary. Laurie gripped her hand, but they said nothing. Then Laurie kissed her cheek, whispering he'd be right back. He stood, pushing his chair up to the table. Then he headed to the stairs.

He knew this house as well as his mother's, the decor never changed. Both homes were comforting, framed pictures of various family members lining the walls. Wilma's late husband and other dead relatives were mixed up with newer family photographs, Seth's older sisters and their offspring vying for attention. It was the same at Rose's house, the daughters keeping the generations afloat. Those women had different last names, but it was the same for Mickey and Sheila; Tovah used her husband's surname, Feinman not being passed on, just as Abrams and Gordon would die out, at least within these clans. Laurie had never wished to be more than someone's uncle; he loved Stanford too much for fatherhood to matter. Seth had never talked about getting married. Art had been his passion until.... Laurie reached the landing, seeing Seth's bedroom door firmly closed. Before, when Seth was home, he would leave a crack, like an invitation. But Laurie didn't care. He approached the door, offering one obligatory knock. Before Seth could refuse him entrance, Laurie was standing in the now open doorway.

"What?" Seth sat on the bed, gripping the comforter. Again he looked in his cousin's direction, but wouldn't make eye contact.

"Just wanted to wish you a good trip."

"You could've done that downstairs."

"You weren't there long enough to give me the chance."

"Well, I, uh...." Seth cleared his throat. "Okay, so you've said it. You can leave now."

Laurie fought a smile, for Seth sounded like a thirteen-year-old. Yet, his body looked like that of a much older man, his shoulders slumped, his coloring pale. He clutched the bedspread with so much force that his hands were white. Laurie had never felt that Seth was in any way his senior, but at that moment, Laurie felt positively young. He approached his cousin, then knelt in front of him. "I love you, you know that right?" Laurie longed to touch Seth's clenched hand, but refrained. Sometimes Seth was like Stanford, not desiring physical reassurance. But Laurie needed to express that sentiment, regardless of how Seth took it.

To Laurie's surprise, Seth grasped Laurie's hand. "I know you do. I love you too."

Seth still didn't make eye contact, staring directly at the floor. Laurie swallowed hard, so wishing to breach whatever barrier was preventing his cousin from meeting Laurie's gaze. If Seth could just look Laurie in the eye....

"I'm gonna miss you. I don't get over here as often as I should, but...."

"I'll miss you too. Not sure what the hell I'll do down there, but something I guess."

Laurie nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. "I'm sure it'll be interesting."

"Yeah, probably."

Laurie wanted to keep talking, but didn't know what else to say. Several seconds passed, then Seth released Laurie's hand. It felt cold, which led to a chill going all through Laurie. He needed to stand, his legs wobbly, but right now he and Seth were on the same level, or as close as they had been in ages. In years, Laurie realized, but Seth was on the verge of separating them yet again.

Was it for good this time, Laurie couldn't help but wonder. Finally he stood, shaking out his trembling limbs. "Can't squat for long anymore," he chuckled weakly. "Guess I'm not as agile as I used to be."

Now Seth looked his way, a small grin forming. "None of us are. If you get too achy, come to Florida. Maybe I'll still be there."

It was Seth's tone, not at all facetious, that made Laurie shiver. "If you aren't back by May, Aunt Wilma will squawk."

Seth nodded, then again gazed at the floor. "I know. But maybe I won't have a choice."

Laurie didn't miss Seth's true meaning, which had nothing to do with Uncle Mickey's pushy wife. "Just take care of yourself, okay?" Laurie wanted to again stoop, but his knees hurt. He nearly sat beside his cousin, but where Seth sat left little room on either side of the mattress. Instead Laurie leaned over, gripping Seth's left hand. Seth nodded, but made no other movement.

After a few seconds, Laurie let go. Seth remained motionless, still staring at his feet. Laurie ached to continue the conversation. Instead he walked from the room, leaving the door wide open. When he reached the kitchen, he found two slices of cake waiting under a plastic cover. As Wilma did dishes, Laurie headed to the phone, calling a cab. He dried a few plates while waiting for the taxi and only spoke aloud after the cabbie honked twice. He told his aunt that he loved her, thanked her for the cake, then kissed her cheek. Then Laurie grabbed the plate, not offering any goodbye to his cousin upstairs. Exiting the house, Laurie didn't look back. He got into the taxi, gave his destination, gazing at the street ahead.
Chapter 97

On Sunday evening, the Snyders shared a meal with Marek at St. Matthew's. Marek had again made roast beef with Yorkshire puddings, in hopes to remind Eric and Lynne of where they truly belonged. All night they had spoken about their upcoming trip, but Marek's tone was jovial, wishing them a good visit alongside a timely return. Otherwise he'd have to hunt high and low for someone to replace Lynne's acumen within the kitchen.

Lynne argued that Marek's skills were above par, but he argued that Sam Ahern was the true chef. Yet no one came close to besting Lynne's skills at dessert, and as he said that, Marek glanced at the pie, sitting on the counter. He had requested peach and Lynne had obliged. He would keep the leftovers, generously sharing them tomorrow with Mrs. Kenny. And when the Snyders returned, Marek would give back the empty tin. He raised his eyebrows with that statement, then spoke in Polish to Jane. She laughed, then looked at her parents with a suspicious gaze.

"What'd you tell her," Eric said. "That she needs to throw a nightly fit at Stanford's?"

Marek chuckled. "Just that we'll all miss her, and you two as well." Marek winked at Lynne, who giggled. "But I suppose after a month you might be ready to return regardless of how exciting New York City turns out to be."

"After a couple weeks, I'm certain of it." Eric smiled, then gripped his wife's hand. "But if we hadn't agreed to Laurie's terms, he'd have come hunting for us. Or rather, Agatha's orders. Four weeks should placate her, unless Jane does fuss. Then they might send us packing after only a few days."

"I highly doubt that." Marek sat forward, then unhooked the high chair tray, releasing Jane. She tried to stand, but Marek collected her, then sat back down with a happy girl in his grasp. "I'm sure Jane will be at her most charming, adding new names to her long list of admirers. Mrs. Kenny has already been lamenting your absence. But I think a few days' worth of peach pie will make it go down more smoothly."

Lynne stood, gathering empty dinner plates. "Shall I slice that pie?"

"Oh, not quite yet," Marek said, bouncing Jane on his knee. "But you could take the ice cream from the freezer. I'm usually not a fan of pie ala mode, but with the peach, vanilla ice cream seems to fit perfectly."

"I agree. Not sure why, but something about it calls for ice cream. Maybe it has to do with summer; peach pie seems congruous with that season." Eric watched as his wife placed the dishes in the sink, then retrieved the ice cream. She put it near the pie, which sat beside three small plates and one plastic dish. Jane would only be served pie, but Eric knew the pastor would share his ice cream with her.

That twosome looked very contented as Marek alternated Polish and English, Jane appearing to comprehend everything he said. Jane babbled in a different cadence around her pastor, depending upon the setting. And while usually here at St. Matthew's, Marek was Jane's pastor, that evening he was another uncle, one that she knew only slightly less well than Sam. Although, Eric had to admit, maybe now Jane recognized those men on equal levels. Since Sam had offered to be Eric's next guinea pig, how Sam had approached that topic, Eric hadn't seen too much of him. But tomorrow Sam was driving them to the airport and Sam would collect the Snyders' mail, watering Lynne's few indoor plants. Eric expected only Sam would attend to those tasks, for Renee was still keeping to herself. She also hadn't returned to see Marek for counseling, what Eric had learned from Sam the last time they spoke. Yet Sam hadn't seemed overly troubled. Eric wondered if Sam agreeing to pose was some sort of trade-off between the couple. Eric also pondered just when the Snyders and both of the Aherns would once again share a meal.

Marek had insisted on cooking that evening, not wishing Lynne to do more than bake. Lynne had been happy to acquiesce as their refrigerator was bare. When planning their excursion, Eric hadn't realized how long four weeks away would be and now he greatly anticipated their return, mostly due to Sam's request. Yet, Eric would need a few days' rest to adequately prepare for such an undertaking. This wasn't simply a painting of Sam and his new car. Eric wasn't sure exactly what else he wanted to capture, or what Sam might be willing to share. The only detail Eric knew was that he wished to paint Sam and the Bel-Air at the Aherns' home, but whether or not the car would be parked in the driveway or along the street was still to be decided.

By early May, the weather would be fine for Eric to set up his easel on the Aherns' front lawn, unless Sam didn't wish to pose out in the open. Otherwise Eric could paint Sam and the Chevy in front of the Snyders' gate, but the light would be better at the Aherns' home. Eric had been mulling this over, once the shock of Sam's request had subsided. But maybe Sam would change his mind over the next four weeks. Eric wouldn't be surprised by that at all.

The room was quiet, even Jane subdued. That was how Eric realized he'd been far away, but faces smiled at him, even his daughter, who seemed fully aware her father was often in another world. Eric chuckled, then glanced at the counter. Condensation had formed on the ice cream container, but Lynne had yet to slice the pie. "Were you waiting for me to come back to Earth before you served dessert?" Eric asked his wife. Then he gazed at Marek. "Or were you just gonna eat without me?"

"Lynne seemed willing to wait another minute, but Jane was getting antsy." Marek grinned, then tickled Jane's chin. "Although she's a patient girl, but then she knows her father very well."

The tone Marek used was that of a man who also knew Eric, causing the painter to smile. "Well, bless her heart. Lynne and I are pretty lucky to have such an understanding daughter."

"Indeed." Marek stood, then handed Jane to her father. "Now Lynne, please be seated. You brought the pie, but I insist to serve our final course." Marek headed to the counter, gently shooing Lynne to her chair. Eric kissed his daughter's cheek as Lynne sat beside him while Marek cut into the pie. Within minutes all were seated together, the scent of peaches wafting throughout the kitchen. Eric fed Jane, snatching bites in between hers, but omitting the ice cream. Jane began to protest until Marek collected her. Then she alternated between begging for more ice cream, all the while making a face as the cold treat hit her tongue.

Eric couldn't tell if Jane's babblings were Polish in nature or those of her parents; maybe ice cream was translated by a universal code. Lynne stood, taking the baby from Marek, but that was only a mother's awareness that her offspring had enjoyed enough sweets for one evening. Jane whimpered, but soon her cries were that of a tired child in need of sleep. Marek noted the same, to which Lynne nodded. That was Eric's cue to finish what remained of his dessert so the family could head home.

Even though they wouldn't see Marek for a month, no prolonged goodbyes were necessary. Marek shook Eric's hand, patted Lynne's shoulder, but gave Jane a kiss on her cheek. She wasn't disturbed from her rest, nestled against her mother. Marek walked them to their car, then wished them safe travels. From his rear view mirror, Eric watched as the pastor remained on the sidewalk, waving to them.

The drive home didn't take long and once inside the house, Jane was dressed for bed. While Lynne put Jane to sleep, Eric walked about the lower level; suitcases waited near the living room French doors, the fireplace was cleared of ashes, the house in a tidy state. All of Eric's paintings were either locked safely in the outbuilding or were stored upstairs in one of the extra bedrooms. The sunroom was empty as if nothing happened in there.

Eric wandered into that room, then turned on a lamp that he used when painting after the sun had set. Normally that time was reserved for his impressions of Lynne, but he hadn't painted her alone in a while. Not that he hadn't wanted to, but usually Lynne insisted that Jane be included. Eric hadn't pondered Lynne's reasons; his mind was full of trip details, and of course, for the last few days, about painting Sam's portrait. In the quiet, without any supplies in view, Eric scanned the room, feeling an ominous sense rising around him. It had nothing to do with Sam; this concerned who they wouldn't see in New York.

Yet, Eric had no inkling of what might happen regarding Seth. That man was already in Florida, and in a way, Eric was relieved that he wouldn't have to meet Seth. Eric wanted this trip to resonate with happy memories, even if a few poignant moments intruded. Condolences would be offered in person to Michael as well as to Stanford. Yet, if what Laurie had said was true, Stanford might not need much comfort. He might not wish to speak about his late mother, which Eric would respect. Perhaps Laurie might be more forthcoming about the loss of Constance Taylor. But Eric didn't think that Stanford's heart was a stone when it came to his family.

And would Eric, Lynne, and Jane be cemented even further into Stanford's clan? Eric harbored no doubts about that, even if it ran contrary to everything Stanford believed. Eric had told Stanford about Sam's request mostly because Stanford still was Eric's dealer. Yet, Eric had no plans for that painting; Sam had mentioned he wanted to give it to his parents for Christmas. So why had Eric felt compelled to share that news? Eric chuckled softly, feeling ready to move from working in this room to his studio, or other outdoor locations. He hoped to find time to sketch Stanford and Laurie, probably within their apartment, or perhaps at Michael's. Eric wouldn't badger either man, but he was going to mention it. He knew Laurie wouldn't argue, but Stanford was another story. Eric wasn't sure what that man might say.

Previously Eric assumed Stanford would put up several arguments against the idea. But now Stanford's world was changed. His mother was dead, that was foremost. Sam's request had probably shaken up Stanford, which Eric thought was for the good. Who would he actually depict first, Sam on canvas or Stanford in pencil? Eric wouldn't make a wager on either scenario.

As Lynne came downstairs, Eric stepped to meet her, reaching his wife as she entered the living room. She looked tired, but she'd been busy all day, and not only in the kitchen. Packing their last few items, she had gone over coordinating lists, and Eric appreciated all her efforts. Traveling with an infant was complicated, but Laurie had told them not to worry about more than clothes for Jane; one of his sisters was lending a stroller, while Stanford's sister Melanie had offered a high chair and play pen. Even Agatha had said to let her know what else Jane might need, but Eric didn't think more items were required. Lynne snuggled against him and Eric grasped her tightly. She had just finished her period, which had also been well-timed. Eric hadn't spoken about his suspicions, but if they conceived while on vacation, maybe the break would be just what the doctor ordered.

Four weeks away would be a significant amount of time, but perhaps it was wholly necessary, and not only for the Snyders. Eric hoped that upon their return Renee would feel up to visiting them, and certainly those in New York were eager for their arrival. He didn't lament not having traveled sooner, no purpose in ruminating about what might have been. Last autumn's brief show hadn't fallen apart due to his absence and he had managed a lot of work in the interim. And now spring was knocking on the door, more here than back east, but by the middle of their sojourn, even New York City would be welcoming a new season. And when they came home.... Eric sighed, feeling a deep fulfillment within his heart. For how many years had he wished to depict Sam's image and now that event was merely weeks away. Perhaps it wouldn't be as Eric had always envisioned it, but let them get started with the car as a prop. As long as Sam was comfortable, Eric didn't care about the setting.

"Are you ready for bed?" Lynne's voice was soft, also somewhat seductive, making Eric shiver in pleasure. He nodded, then chuckled. "What?" Lynne asked, pulling away.

"Just that you've worked so hard all day, how do you have the energy?"

"I don't know," she giggled. "But best to not waste it."

"Agreed." Eric kissed her, then again brought her into his grasp. Now he considered nothing but this woman, her warmth and scent and how deeply he loved her. Then he laughed, causing Lynne to stare. If they weren't leaving tomorrow morning, Eric would lead her into the sunroom and start a painting. Yet all of his supplies were stashed away, did he even have any canvases stretched?

"What're you thinking?" she said. "Eric?"

"Just how much I love you. Let's go to bed."

His tone was still giggly, which made Lynne trace around his eyes. "I think you were considering something else."

"Well, I was thinking about how much I'd love to paint you. But...."

"That would be very difficult to accommodate at the present moment." Then Lynne broke into a wide grin. "I'll tell you what. When we get home, after we're unpacked and Jane's asleep, you can paint me however you want to."

Her tone was sly, making Eric ache. "What if I don't wanna wait till the suitcases are empty?"

"Well," Lynne smiled, "you'll still have to wait till your daughter's napping."

Eric nodded, then chuckled heartily. "You're absolutely right about that. But once she's asleep, oh Lynne, then I'm gonna...."

Eric was interrupted by Lynne's eager kiss. She stepped back, her laughter heady, but Eric joined her, kissing her again. Then Lynne headed up the stairs while Eric checked that all the doors were locked. Soon the couple was huddled under the covers, enjoying one last evening in their own bed.
Chapter 98

On the third morning of Stanford's vacation, he woke alone. The previous two days he and Laurie had stirred together, their slumber interrupted by a baby's cries. Stanford placed his hand where Laurie usually resided. The sheets were cool; for how long had Laurie been awake?

Several minutes later, Stanford found his partner and their guests in the kitchen. Agatha's usual morning hum was replaced by actual song, but nothing that Stanford recognized other than how melodious was her voice. No one seemed to notice Stanford's arrival as Eric stood near Agatha, a plate in his hand, waiting for breakfast. Lynne and Laurie's attentions were focused upon Jane, seated at the table in a high chair. The baby was being fed by her uncle, a term Stanford couldn't ignore, not from how often Laurie, Eric, and Lynne had used it, nor from how Laurie's love showered a little girl who seemed nothing like the helpless baby Stanford had recalled. Jane Snyder might still be an infant, but she was also now a member of a family Stanford had never imagined making.

For the last two days, Stanford had attempted to deny the changes within his household; the Snyders were merely guests, albeit very close to him and to Laurie. And to Agatha; how much of this altered dynamic was her doing, Stanford wondered, still silently observing all those within the kitchen. It wasn't a large room; rare were the times this many people had stood in it at once. Yet it felt to Stanford as warm and welcoming as the Snyders' kitchen, it felt like.... Stanford shivered; of course it was his home, he'd lived in this apartment for ages. But as the domicile of two men, never before had the sense of family permeated these walls, and not only within that of Agatha's domain. The whole place seemed to resonate with newfound emotions, even the library, where adults had taken their after drinks last night. Eric had insisted, wanting to again admire Seth's sculptures. At first Stanford had been hesitant, but later he wanted to thank Eric for making that overture. Seth wasn't anywhere close, yet he was all around them. Best to get him out of the way so the rest of the month wouldn't be clouded.

Jane's laughter took Stanford from those thoughts; she gazed his way, her blue eyes sparkling. Stanford smiled, he couldn't help it. Yet, part of his mirth was in how only Jane realized his presence. She quieted, but still grinned as if aware; for how long could they keep this secret? Suddenly Stanford trembled; she wasn't some mindless baby. She knew who he was; her uncle, her father's art dealer, her Uncle Laurie's best friend. And his companion, but to Jane that meant the same as what her mother and father were to each other. In that respect, Jane Snyder saw Stanford and Laurie no differently than how she understood her parents' relationship or Sam and Renee's. And for the first time, Stanford allowed how novel was that insight. Not even his nieces and nephews, nor Laurie's, were afforded such a liberated viewpoint. Stanford got on well with his brothers-in-law and with Laurie's relatives by marriage. But all them, to varying degrees, possessed reservations concerning Stanford and Laurie's connection. Never had Stanford felt any such judgment from Eric or Lynne. And of course none from their daughter.

Now Jane stared at her uncle, her Uncle Stanford. Those blue eyes, the same hue as Sam Ahern's, held none of that man's initial disgust, or his later apologies. Jane's eyes reminded Stanford a little of Seth, when that man had been much younger, but then Seth had never been so free. He'd always been, as Laurie's mother like to say, a little touched. But Jane was perfectly content, even here in Stanford's kitchen. Or more rightly in Auntie Agatha's kitchen, where finally Stanford's presence was detected by the only woman Stanford loved. Agatha turned, nodding at him like she had known he was there all along.

Since his mother's death, Stanford had permitted a more slightly open nature around Agatha, which he now accepted was in part due to their stilted conversation at the end of last year. But that wasn't the only reason for his altered feelings; Stanford genuinely cared about his cook, housekeeper, and only confidant other than Laurie, even if Stanford hadn't confessed to Agatha that December evening. She knew he was seeing Dr. Walsh, although she never peppered him with questions. Agatha was a constant, what Stanford permitted, as she deftly returned to flipping pancakes, not revealing Stanford's presence to Eric, who remained by her side.

Stanford wanted to chuckle, but he ached to remain unseen for another moment to observe the only other woman for whom he took an interest. To his chagrin, he had found himself caring about Lynne as soon as she'd stepped from the taxi onto Manhattan pavement. Laurie had insisted both men wait for their guests in the downstairs lobby, which had vexed Stanford for how plebian they must have appeared, loitering as if they had nothing better to do. But that had been the truth, for when the cab pulled up, Eric exiting the vehicle first, both Stanford and Laurie were quick to leave the building. Stanford had shaken Eric's hand as Laurie helped Lynne and Jane from the taxi, and upon seeing Lynne toting her child, Stanford's heart lurched in his chest. He'd been so pleased to see Eric, but Lynne aroused a different set of emotions. Perhaps they were related to Jane had been Stanford's immediate thought. But how he felt about Lynne had little to do with her child. Stanford had left Eric to embrace the painter's wife, which hadn't been difficult, as Laurie had taken Jane from her mother as soon as both females were out of the cab.

Lynne hadn't initiated the hug; it had been all Stanford's doing, an action involuntary yet so necessary. While he loved Agatha, there was no reason to embrace her, yet Stanford needed to share some sort of physical affection other than what he gave to Laurie. He'd always hugged his mother, until she forgot who he was. For years that action had been absent, yet how easily had it been reintegrated, as if Stanford was as comfortable as Laurie in sharing his feelings. Lynne hadn't held onto him for long, yet her embrace had been soothing, her greeting appropriate for the occasion, how good it was to see him, and to be there. She hadn't said home, New York wasn't her residence, yet, for the next few weeks this apartment was the Snyders' base. They were staying with Agatha for a week, maybe even with Stanford's father for a few days. But until the end of April, this Manhattan edifice was where Eric, Lynne, and Jane would reside until they flew west again.

Now Stanford felt as comfortable around Lynne as he did Agatha; he didn't analyze that emotional state, other than allowing that since his mother's death, perhaps he required some sort of feminine touch. Laurie's mother was too overbearing for Stanford, but Agatha and Lynne knew how to negotiate the waters. Inwardly Stanford chided himself, for that sounded like he needed to be treated with kid gloves. But in how Jane began to giggle, perhaps that wasn't an incorrect assessment. Stanford shrugged at the little girl and by that action, Laurie turned Stanford's direction. "Well, about time," Laurie smiled. "I was wondering if you'd gone into a coma."

Now Stanford rolled his eyes, for all eyes were upon him. "Hardly. Just wanted to enjoy my holiday." He stepped toward Jane, who laughed loudly. How insightful could a one-year-old be, Stanford mused, but then her father was one of the most discerning men Stanford had ever known. Stanford caught Eric's gaze, like that man could read Stanford's mind. Yet, Stanford had nothing to hide from his client. Here they were, standing in Stanford's kitchen, all mysteries stripped away.

"Here, take my seat." Lynne stood, her smile as unfettered as her child's. "If I have another pancake, I'll bust. In fact, it's probably time for a little girl to be changed."

As Lynne began to unhook the high chair's tray, Stanford stepped forward. "Oh, it's all right. Don't rush off on account of me."

He said the words without thinking; the last thing he wanted was for Jane to be taken away. Yet the room became hushed, except for Jane's giggles. The rest were silenced and it took Stanford a few seconds to realize why. Then he felt utterly foolish, also nearly naked. Never had he permitted this level of familiarity with anyone other than his father and Laurie. And with Agatha of course, but he was still her employer. Yet the Snyders were friends; they were family, Stanford allowed. Somehow Eric, Lynne, and Jane had wormed their way into a place where so few dwelled that Stanford was surprised they had found room. Or maybe the bigger shock was how easily they had snuck inside him, as if all that time the space existed, but he had blocked the entry.

"Actually, Lynne's been waiting to shower, but Jane's been reluctant to relinquish her mother. I'll change the girl here, then we'll be right back while Mommy has a minute to herself." Eric's intervention was seamless, Stanford thought, as that man unstrapped the still jovial baby from the high chair, then hoisted her into the air, stirring rapturous laughter.

Lynne's smile was kind, as was the way she gently patted Stanford's shoulder. The Snyders departed from the kitchen together, leaving Stanford with those with whom he typically resided. Yet now the usual felt odd; how much had that other threesome assimilated themselves into Stanford's realm? And, he shuddered, how much would he miss them when they eventually left New York?

How strange would this apartment seem while they stayed with Agatha, he wondered, suddenly hoping that his father would insist upon hosting the Snyders for at least a week. Stanford could easily visit them within minutes if they were a few blocks away, but once the Snyders headed to Queens.... He wouldn't see them until they returned to Manhattan and by then only a few days would remain. The week they were at Agatha's, Stanford and Laurie would be fending for themselves. Stanford would be back to work by then, and for the remainder of the Snyders' visit. He only had these two weeks off and already three days had slipped past far too quickly for his liking. How was this even possible, he considered, as Agatha brought him coffee and a plate of pancakes just how he liked them, with a little butter, a smidgen of syrup, and a dollop of jam.

This was the sort of breakfast he only ate a few times a year, yet yesterday she had made oatmeal, who knew what tomorrow's fare would be? It wasn't his typical toast, but the coffee was as delicious as always. She'd probably had to make a full pot, but it made no difference to her excellent morning brew. Was Stanford the only one finding how strange all of this was?

He wanted to ask Laurie, but refrained, for that would have been too much to speak of in Agatha's presence. And even if Stanford mentioned it to his partner, would Laurie understand the depth of Stanford's query? Maybe this was something for Stanford to discuss with Dr. Walsh, whom he was supposed to see that afternoon. But not even with his psychiatrist did Stanford want to share these revelations. They were too new, he decided. Maybe they were merely the effects of having three Snyders staying at his home. Or maybe he was....

Perhaps he was getting soft. His mother's death had affected him, but he couldn't gauge exactly how until those ways had been discovered. He allowed that he wasn't as morose as before, but he had never imagined feeling so, so.... Vulnerable, but not in a negative manner. Stanford looked forward to Eric returning with Jane, for within the last couple of days, Stanford had grown fond of spending time with the painter alongside his family. No longer could Stanford consider Eric a sole entity. Now all three Snyders mattered.

Stanford ate his breakfast, pondering how that detail would now figure within his life. His mother was dead, so it was acceptable that someone else, or two someones, could move into that position. That both were female seemed even more appropriate, then Stanford wore a small frown. If Lynne and Jane took the spot reserved for Stanford's late mother, where did Eric fit in? Stanford glanced at Laurie, who looked a little bereft, also unkempt; what time had that man woke? Instead of mulling over Eric's position within Stanford's life, the dealer studied his partner. Dark circles hung under Laurie's eyes, yet those eyes carried none of the sorrow that had haunted Stanford's lover for the past several months. Ordinary fatigue dogged Laurie's countenance. Then he smiled, reaching for Stanford's hand. Stanford looked to where Agatha stood at the stove, her back to the men. Stanford then gripped Laurie's hand, and if Eric happened to walk in, Stanford didn't care. To see Laurie looking so happy, if not somewhat weary, was worth any personal embarrassment Stanford might endure.

But Eric didn't return for several minutes, and when he did, he regaled those in the kitchen with a tale that made Stanford squirm; Jane had her morning constitutional, and it was easier to put her in the tub with her mother for a few moments. Jane's hair was damp, but she smelled fresh, which made Laurie laugh, Agatha chuckle, and once the idea of a poopy baby passed through Stanford's head, he grinned slightly, then offered to hold Jane. She was, as her father said, done with the messier aspects of infancy, at least for a time.

"Indeed, you take her," Eric said, handing his daughter to Stanford. "I think she was asking for one of her uncles, and seeing you haven't had your turn yet...." Eric's tone was cheery as he placed Jane on Stanford's lap. She giggled, then gazed at Stanford. He'd held her a couple of times over the last few days, but she was certainly more familiar with Laurie and Agatha. Yet she remained placid, although Laurie moved Stanford's unfinished breakfast beyond her reach. Then Laurie caught Stanford's gaze; now no exhaustion edged that man's twinkling green eyes. They were full of.... Stanford blinked, but couldn't escape the deep love Laurie felt for Jane, and for the one holding her. Yet it wasn't that Laurie wished they'd had children together. It was simply the thrill of sharing in the joy which Stanford could no longer deny. Never again would he be able to repudiate the affection which he possessed for these people, for to do so would be negating a part of himself. Strangely, these feelings didn't translate into a yearning to reach out toward his sisters and their families. As Jane babbled in Stanford's grasp, he was content to admire only her. Perhaps one day his regards would include others. For now, it was enough of an alteration to bounce Eric's daughter upon his rather unpracticed knee.
Chapter 99

Stanford didn't speak to his father, Dr. Walsh, Laurie, or anyone else about his newfound realizations. He did curb those enthusiasms around Laurie's family when he, Laurie, and the Snyders traveled to Brooklyn. They visited Laurie's clan at Rose's home, and she had baked a coconut cake especially for this introduction. Neither Stanford nor Laurie remarked upon the cake and Eric, Lynne, and Jane had no idea of the slight friction Rose felt when Wilma casually inferred that if they had time, she would love to host them for an afternoon. But later that evening, Laurie and Stanford joked about it, for of course Wilma would make her chocolate cake, prompting the unspoken query as to which sister was the better baker. Yet Stanford made Laurie laugh out loud that neither woman's desserts could top one of Lynne's pies.

Lynne had already baked a peach pie, which Agatha thought was the best she had ever eaten. She asked if Lynne would make another in Queens, wanting to see if her sister Belle felt as Agatha did, that the crust was the same as their mother's. Neither of those sisters had ever been able to replicate the delicate flakiness of their mother's creations, a lost recipe that Agatha occasionally lamented. Lynne quickly acquiesced to Agatha's request, offering to Agatha her own recipe. Agatha was pleased for Lynne's generosity, but claimed that pies weren't her specialty. Her sister Belle, however, would be exceedingly grateful for the guidelines.

At the end of the first week, Eric felt to have put on ten pounds between one Brooklyn baker and his wife's Manhattan efforts. Eric also thought a change had occurred between his family and the New Yorkers, or more rightly between his wife, daughter, and Stanford, although Laurie looked years younger, or maybe just as he used to appear. Seth hadn't been mentioned by anyone, yet Eric had studied that man's handiwork many times, either popping into the library alone or the nightly sojourn in that room where nightcaps were shared. Those moments were more like after Jane was put to sleep beverages, for how late in the evening, or relatively late for the Snyders, those drinks were partaken, and that for Lynne no alcohol was imbibed. Eric knew the real reason, but permitted aloud what Stanford and Laurie had learned after the first night, to only offer Lynne 7-Up. The men assumed Lynne didn't drink, or that she didn't drink night after night. In truth, Lynne had given up stronger spirits months ago when the couple had decided to try for another baby.

Not that Eric and his wife were teetotalers; both appreciated good wine. Yet, while Eric enjoyed a nightcap with their hosts, Lynne sipped soda, often snuggled closely against her husband on the library's leather sofa. Sometimes she fell asleep next to Eric, but the men continued their discourse, simply lowering their voices. Both Snyders found these conversations a lovely way to end the evenings, in part that there was plenty of fodder for animated discourse. And that it had been ages since the Snyders had chatted with another twosome.

When the Snyders shared a meal with their pastor, all three were actively engaged in the discussion. But Eric had missed the back and forth exchanges when he, Lynne, Sam, and Renee got together, or how the men would banter while the women shared their own interests, yet those separate threads always ended up woven into a cozy quartet of dialogue. The same sort of intersection, diversion, then reattachment occurred within Stanford and Laurie's library night after night. Eric felt a distinct harmony had been rediscovered and he reveled in that manner of friendship, inwardly praying that once his family returned home, it could be rekindled with the Aherns. Eric had received a letter from Sam that all was well at the house. Sam didn't mention his wife, nor did he write about his impending portrait. That subject hadn't come up with the New Yorkers, although last night, when gazing at Seth's figurines, Eric caught Stanford staring at him. Stanford's mood was hard to gauge, but Eric would bet money that his dealer wasn't solely considering the absent sculptor.

Stanford had spoken about the European tour; currently Eric's canvases were in West Germany, moving next to Holland. They would travel onto Scandinavia, then head south to Switzerland, then to Italy. Portugal and Spain would round out the stops and sometime in autumn the collection would return to America, where paintings would be delivered to their owners or taken back to Eric's storage building. Well, the orchard would return to the Snyders' living room, the blue barn to the Aherns' house, while The Pastor and His Charge would head to St. Matthew's. Eric had considered hanging the picture of Lynne on the stool, but every time he mentioned it, Lynne blushed, asking just where Eric thought would be appropriate. Eric had noted a few empty spaces along their walls, making his wife turn an even deeper shade of crimson. Ultimately that prized canvas would reside with the rest of Eric's most beloved pieces, in a darkened, climate controlled edifice. Yet something about that seemed erroneous to the painter, as he again gazed at two figurines which hearkened to a tremendous artistic gift. At least these statues weren't completely hidden from view.

Should they be in a museum, Eric wondered, half-listening to what Lynne and Stanford were sharing. Eric should pay more attention to that startling conversation, for Stanford rarely said more to his client's wife other than offering praise for her culinary feats. Yet, this stream of chit-chat had nothing to do with pie. Stanford spoke about the collection's move to Italy, after a brief visit to Geneva. Lynne remarked at how sad it was that Iron Curtain countries weren't permitted to display Eric's work.

"Well, it wasn't like I didn't ask," Stanford said glumly. Then he huffed. "The Soviets acted like showing a western painter was beneath them. I wonder what they think now," he chuckled, finishing his drink. "Every review has been better than the last and those in London were superlative from the start."

Eric merely smiled; his work had received critical acclaim, from hawks to portraits, nature scenes and those more impressionistically inclined. Several foreign critics had correctly deduced the series of Lynne disguised as a variety of natural settings, but the actual nudes had received the most acclaim. Oddly enough, the nudes were never identified as the painter's wife, as if that detail was irrelevant. Maybe to Europeans it was. Critics made no mention as to that woman's identity, only that her beauty was irrevocably captured, and what a blessing that was. Eric hadn't labored over the reviews, but he appreciated certain points made. Those focusing on Lynne had struck the deepest chord within the artist.

Now Laurie added his views, in how many Italian galleries wanted to display Eric's genius. Only a few had originally been slated to show the collection, but an onslaught of museums had badgered Stanford, which at first had angered the dealer, yet additional stops had been added to the tour, and perhaps a few more might be squeezed in, although no Eastern European nations would manage to find their way onto the slate. Not that Stanford would be adverse if any requested the paintings. Only that since the Cuban Missile Crisis, an even stronger wall now stood between East and West. Stanford clucked that Eric's art would be shown in China before the Soviets permitted an Iron Bloc country permission.

Eric wasn't bothered, well, he would love for The Pastor and His Charge to be seen in Warsaw. Otherwise, he couldn't worry about who saw his work. Then Eric wondered if Seth ever felt that way; his few pieces rested in private collections, none had ever been displayed publically. A small statue of his mother and aunt stood in a curio cabinet at Rose's house, making Eric curious; did Wilma display any of her son's pieces?

He would find out next week, as it seemed another visit to Brooklyn was in the works. Someone had said something about a chocolate cake, if Eric recalled correctly. His biggest impression of the trip to Rose's home was how tightly-knit were the Abrams women, very similar to the Ahern and Nolan clans. If he had mentioned that detail, would the reaction have been disbelief, or would those Jewish ladies have gladly accepted that religion had no bearing on how closely families were linked. The only distinction at the Abrams' home was that it was mostly a domain of females, Rose's daughters and their daughters alongside Rose's sister in attendance. Eric expected it to be the same when they stopped at the Gordons, another bevy of female relations with only Laurie representing the male line.

Eric stared at that man, who laughed at whatever Stanford had just said. Lynne giggled, but Laurie didn't hold back, looking as young as Eric had ever seen him. Stanford appeared slightly peeved, which made Eric smile, although he wasn't in on the joke. He might ask Lynne later if he remembered, but he probably wouldn't. Every night the couple fell asleep wrapped tightly to the other, having made a delightful sort of love. It was different in New York, both had admitted, perhaps only that they were on vacation, or that their affections, while passionate, were more muted than usual. Yet silent lovemaking seemed even more fervent, as if all of their affections were translated by touch. Eric only enjoyed one alcoholic drink per evening, then he sipped soda alongside his wife. He wanted to be fully engaged when they went to bed, for there was much to celebrate.

They were finally meeting Laurie's relatives, there was the wonderful camaraderie with Agatha. On two nights Michael Taylor had joined them for dinner and his delight with Jane had lifted not only the Snyders' hearts, but Stanford's too. But mostly Eric was grateful for good company, no landmines around which to maneuver. Only now did Eric realize the tension he and Lynne had negotiated with Sam over the last several weeks. Eric released a long exhalation, saying a quick prayer for Renee. Then he gazed at Stanford, then to Laurie, as the room was now silent.

"What," Eric asked, glancing at his wife. Lynne's eyes were wide, although she seemed sleepy. "What'd I miss?"

"You just seemed to announce the evening was coming to an end." Laurie chuckled. "That was the most prolonged sigh of the night."

Eric smiled, but it felt false. Yet, he didn't wish to enlighten his hosts as to the Aherns' troubles. "Just thinking about my next project. But that's still a few weeks away."

"Stan says you'll be painting Sam's portrait." Now Laurie grew serious. "How'd that come about?"

Eric felt Lynne stiffen against him and he cleared his throat. "Well, Sam and Renee bought a new car and Sam felt it was time to let the artist in residence work a little magic."

"Well, I must say," Stanford began, "I was certainly surprised by the news."

Now Eric wanted to laugh, for the envy in Stanford's tone couldn't be disguised. "Well, to be honest, Sam caught me off guard. I've been bugging him for ages. We'll get started after I've had a few days to overcome jet lag."

Stanford nodded, but still seemed on the back foot, which made Eric smile. "Well, I'll be very interested to see how that evolves." Then Stanford glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "My, look at the time. All this conversation just makes the evening fly."

Eric gazed at Laurie, who didn't appear tired, but Lynne sagged against Eric's shoulder. "Indeed. I can't believe a week's already passed. I'll be painting Sam's new car before I know it."

Avoiding Stanford's eyes, Eric focused on Laurie's face. That man's happy countenance was a balm on Eric's soul. Only Stanford was jealous, yet he would be as hard to capture on canvas as Eric's best friend. Although, now that Sam had broken the ice, perhaps getting the New Yorkers to pose, even for a sketch, wouldn't be as impossible as Eric had first thought. Maybe within the safety of their apartment, or perhaps at Michael's, Stanford would drop his guard. Ground had been gained for such an action in how easily Stanford now spoke to Lynne or toted Jane. But getting that man to stand near his partner for more than a moment would be a test of just how comfortable Stanford felt around the Snyders. Eric wouldn't sketch the New Yorkers surreptitiously, as he had Sam's parents. Yet, the drawing might be as informal as how Eric had painted Joe and Marjorie standing beside each other, speaking to their children. Eric wasn't sure how he might place Stanford and Laurie, maybe Stanford with his father, Laurie holding Jane. That might be the best way to display the couple two-dimensionally, then maybe.... Eric smiled as Stanford stood, stretching his arms over his head. Yet his yawn was as artificial as those Lynne had proffered the first night they ate dinner within this apartment. This time, however, the falsehoods had nothing to do with where people slept. Eric smiled, then kissed his wife's cheek. Lynne stirred from authentic slumber, causing her husband to shiver; might she be....

A rush of excitement coursed through him, but it had no bearing on whether or not he would sketch the duo who also seemed ready to end this night. Laurie stood close to his partner, although the men didn't hold hands. As Eric got to his feet, helping Lynne to hers, he wished for his pad and pencil. But maybe after Lynne was asleep, Eric might steal back to this room and from memory set down an indelible image. Perhaps European art critics felt that the nudes of Lynne were modern classics. Eric wouldn't refute them, but just as meaningful would be the canvas of one couple which might never been seen by those outside of the Taylor and Abrams clans. Yet sometimes the most precious pieces were appreciated by a rare audience, like Seth's sculptures, or the abstract paintings in Minnesota. Or a man and his car, Eric grinned, as Laurie embraced Lynne, Stanford doing the same, those men offering to Eric their simple goodnights.

Eric reciprocated those sentiments, then escorted his wife to their room. Closing the door, Eric let all other considerations slip away as Lynne's eager kiss told her husband she wasn't quite ready for sleep. Eric chuckled as Lynne initiated further intimacies. Then he moaned softly as his wife led him to a bed that seemed just as perfect as theirs back home.
Chapter 100

Two weeks had passed since the Snyders' departure and for Sam Ahern those fourteen days had felt like the slowest in over a decade. Time dragged whether he cooked, counseled vets, or visited Frannie, and it seemed to go most slowly in the evenings when he and Renee found themselves alone with very little to say to one another.

Only when Sam drove to the Snyders' to check the mail did time seem to fly, or at least it seemed normal. Maybe it was that at Eric and Lynne's, there was little for Sam to do; he collected the mail, of which there was more than Sam had imagined. Most of the letters were from Europe; Sam was stunned that every day a stack was stuffed into their box. He had no idea the level of appreciation for Eric's paintings, and it was one of the few things providing conversation with his wife. Each night Renee asked how much mail had arrived that day, for she too was just as shocked. And every evening Sam remarked that yes, the Snyders' post box was again full, making both Sam and his wife smile.

The Snyders' dining table was piled high with correspondence, the plants were watered, but no bills had arrived for Sam to pay on Eric's behalf. Tulips were blooming, which Sam denoted to Eric in a brief letter, but other than that, little remained for Sam to report. He wouldn't tell Eric how much post waited; he wanted to surprise him with the abundant correspondence. He also wouldn't burden Eric with how hollow Sam's life now seemed. That emptiness wasn't solely due to the Snyders' absence. It was a daily realization on Sam's part to how his earlier stubbornness had caused a marital rift that had changed the entire tenor of Sam's existence.

Even when Eric, Lynne, and Jane returned, time for Sam would never again flow properly. Sam didn't consider how time might move while posing for Eric, because in having made that decision, he'd hoped to resuscitate a part of his marriage. And while that action had appeased Renee to some degree, she remained adamant about not wanting to adopt, nor did she speak of visiting the Snyders when they returned. She had accompanied Sam to the Canfields after church yesterday, spending much of that Easter Sunday speaking with Fran, occasionally giving the older children her attention. And Sam had been grateful for those brief moments, for instead of chastising Sally, Will, and Jaime, Renee had been kind. Not quite her old self, Sam had noticed, nor did she interact with the younger Canfields. Sam took that task, playing Chutes and Ladders with Denise, Brad, and Johnny, or reading to Helene. She'd sat on his lap and while she was much bigger and more animated than Jane, those moments had fulfilled a part of Sam's heart that for ages he had resolutely denied needed any attention whatsoever.

Sitting in his quiet kitchen, a pot of stew simmering on the stove, Sam felt his chest muscle ache. That morning Renee had commented how quickly the year was passing, what with Easter now over. He'd wanted to agree, for in a way she was right. Spring's healing touch was visible all over town, trees leafing out, flowers bright in gardens. The longest winter in his life was effectively over, yet why did minutes feel like hours, the last two weeks some strange set of month-long days each. This was worse than when Sam was in Korea, wondering not only if he would get home again, but why in the world had he enlisted? Why purposely put distance between himself and Renee and....

Then Sam wanted to pound the table; when he got home, he set the largest amount of space he could find between them, leaving it there to fester. And now the result of that erroneous action made him ache not only within his ribcage, but all over. His legs hurt, his head tingled, he felt feverish. He scoffed, sipped his luke-warm coffee, then stood to refill the cup. But Sam grew dizzy and had to grip the table to remain on his feet. He sat down again, assuming he'd either stood too soon or maybe the caffeine was too much, having grown used to drinking decaf with Eric and Lynne. During their absence, Lynne had sent an Easter card, which Renee had glanced at, but otherwise hadn't acknowledged. Sam had set the card on the mantle with others from family. What had the Snyders done yesterday, Sam wondered.

He thought about getting up again to look over Lynne's brief note, written on the back of the card. Maybe she had shared their plans, but as Sam went to stand, his knees buckled. Immediately he retook his chair, breaking out in a sweat. He'd felt fine that morning, well actually he'd noticed the room spinning right when he woke. But he'd dismissed that and some slight nausea after he ate breakfast. But now he truly felt sick, maybe one of the Canfield kids had given him a bug. Sam considered calling Frannie to ask, but instead he remained in his seat, not certain he was well enough to walk to the phone, much less make the call.

Was this some adverse reaction to time moving like a turtle, he suddenly wondered. Or was this what he deserved after so many years of ignoring his wife's desires. As that thought wafted through his mind, he didn't simply discard it as he usually did. Sam wasn't depressed, not like Renee had been, or maybe still was. But Sam did feel culpable, which while not the same as depression wasn't a positive sensation. Yet, there was nothing he could do to change Renee's mind. Her heart was stony in regards to children, or at least kids for them, or maybe youngsters in general. That made Sam's stomach ache, but it was the truth. She hadn't paid a whit of attention to the four youngest Canfields, she couldn't bear to see her Lutheran goddaughter. If she still worked at the hospital, would she be able to assist in the maternity ward? Years ago Renee had remarked that she never minded being called into the labor ward, but that Lynne only went if absolutely necessary. At the time, Sam hadn't done more than nod at Renee's statement, but now he pondered it, amid an increasing headache and nagging queasiness.

Finally Sam had to close his eyes, putting aside his wife, Lynne, and youngsters. A terrible sickness was assaulting him and he wondered if he could manage to reach his bed. From where had this bug arrived and so quickly? He managed one wry smile, that for how slowly time had previously seemed, now it felt like an oncoming train, or maybe the wreck had already occurred. Opening his eyes, Sam blinked, everything in his vision doubled. He had never felt this ill, well, not for a while. If nothing else, he'd never been so violently attacked by what was now dogging his heels. Could he walk to bed or would he have to crawl? Sam stood, again grasping the table, unsure how he would reach his bedroom. If he could get to the sofa, perhaps that would be good enough. He turned around, leaving one hand on the table. With the other, he reached for the kitchen doorway. By outstretched fingertips he gripped the doorframe, then took halting steps, breathing deeply but still feeling miserable. The couch was merely feet away, yet it seemed like a mile separated him from where he could lay down.

As if a battlefield loomed in the distance, Sam took stock; the sofa was about ten feet from where he stood. Bile was creeping up his throat, but if he was horizontal, he might not throw up on the carpet. Yet his head ached so badly, maybe he should try for the bathroom. He glanced that way, but even the hallway seemed too far to go. The sofa, he just needed to lie down for a bit.

After several minutes, he staggered from the kitchen doorway, across half of the living room, falling into the couch with a loud plop. He wanted to vomit, his knees knocked, and his head pounded. With all his remaining strength, Sam swung his legs onto the sofa, grabbed an afghan Lynne had knitted for them years ago, then did his best to cover himself with the blanket. Then he closed his eyes, praying for release from this suffering, whether it be sleep or death. At that point, Sam didn't care which option God had planned.

When Sam stirred, he was in his own bed, under blankets, a cool rag on his forehead. Renee was sitting beside him, her eyes wide and opaque. Sam closed his, then reopened them. Renee's face was streaked with tears and his first thought was had someone died? Then he tried to speak, but another round of nausea stilled his voice. Maybe he was near death, but if so, at least his head would stop throbbing.

"Oh Sam, oh honey!" Renee's tone was soft, but the words were said with force. She leaned over, kissing his forehead, but her lips felt cool. Then Sam realized how warm he was, maybe it was all the blankets. He wanted to ask, but again felt too poorly to talk.

"Sam, listen to me. You're about as sick as Eric was on Christmas. I've got half a mind to call Ted and have him help me get you to the hospital. Sam, do you hear me?"

He nodded, which took great effort. He also wanted to shake his head about going to the hospital, but when he tried, he just couldn't manage it. Did he have some strange flu and if so, how were Fran, Louie, and the kids? Sam had spent time around them all and the last thing he wanted was for one of them to be so afflicted.

He wanted to say all of that to Renee but couldn't. Instead he stared at her, wondering if they still shared a deep enough of a bond that maybe she could sense those queries. Her eyes were so white, he'd never seen her so frightened. Then he was surprised she hadn't already taken him to the hospital. But perhaps like Lynne had been entreated with Eric, Renee had been asked to wait, or maybe Sam was going to kick the bucket here and now.

So many symptoms hit him, Sam wouldn't be shocked if this was it. Yet, Renee hadn't called St. Anne's. Neither priest stood at Sam's bedside to offer last rites; maybe it wasn't yet Sam's time. He pondered that for a few seconds, then a raspy chuckle escaped his lips. God wasn't going to take Sam Ahern home until he posed for Eric Snyder.

Maybe that sacrifice hadn't moved Renee to reconsider adoption, but Sam had made that pledge, and it seemed God was going to hold him to it. Sam smiled, although he still felt awful. "Don't take me to the hospital Renee. I'm gonna be all right."

"What? Oh Sam, oh dear Lord!" Renee began to cry, kissing his hand, then his face. Her lips were still cool, but her tears were warm. Sam wanted to cry as well; she still loved him, what she had said over the last several weeks, but Sam hadn't realized his doubts. But she did, regardless of how she felt about other subjects, and Sam inwardly thanked God for that fact.

"I'll be okay honey." Sam didn't think to say that was tempting God. Then he wondered if Eric had spoken to Lynne when he'd been near death. Had Sam been that ill, he wasn't sure. But he knew, without reservation, that this ailment wasn't fatal. And the last place he wanted to be was within the sterile confines of Renee's former workplace. "If you need to call Ted or Henry, that's fine. But I want you to take care of me, if you can." Did she have any time off accrued yet, Sam wondered. She had only been at Dr. Howard's practice a few months.

"I've already called, I'm off the rest of the week. I've been home most of the afternoon, just had a feeling something was up. Vivian told me to take as much time as I needed." Renee wiped her face, but her tone was still tearful. "I might call Ted to come pray for you in person. Well, I'm gonna have to tell your parents." Renee sighed. "By this time tomorrow, there'll be more family here than we can shake a stick at."

Slight brassiness edged her worried voice, which alleviated a little of Sam's headache. He wanted to smile, but felt too lousy. Instead he nodded, but that made him more nauseous. Yet, he would recover, which did stir his grin. "Don't forget to send someone to Eric and Lynne's. For the mail," Sam added.

Renee nodded. "Ted or Henry can do that and just bring it all back here."

"Yeah, not much room left on their table anyways."

Renee patted Sam's hand, then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "We'll worry about that tomorrow. Actually, I'll go call Ted now, see if he's busy. Maybe he can stop there on the way and...."

Sam nodded again, then weakly gripped his wife's hand. "Call Frannie too, see if the kids are okay."

Renee grasped her husband's hand with force. "Already did that, she said they're fine. I also told her to pray for you. My goodness Sam, you scared the life outta me!"

He smiled, hearing that depth of fear. For how terrible he felt, one glimmer of hope coursed through him; Renee did love him. Then he shivered, wondering why he'd carried that subconscious doubt. The last year of their marriage had been fraught with so much tension, anger, and bitter disappointment; they had even weathered a brief separation. Just that morning he had been unsure about their future, but now those considerations felt like how Sam had pondered going home while squatting in a Korean foxhole. At times why did reality seem so fleeting? Then his heart throbbed; last Thanksgiving he and Renee had been so close to making a family. They had been at his parents' house, along with all of his siblings and their broods, which included the Canfields. It had been the first time in years that Sam and Renee had celebrated that holiday with either of their clans; Sam had been roasting his own turkey, usually for Eric and Lynne, for ages. But last year had been different and now this year wasn't what he'd expected, except that his wife still loved and needed him.

Sam knew that not only from her tremulous voice, but now in how hard she wept, leaning over him, her red hair splayed out on the blanket like a raging fire. Sam patted her head, although it took great effort. Had they stopped going to family gatherings because he hadn't wanted kids, Sam mused, as Renee kept crying. Would they go this year, he wondered? Then he inhaled deeply, still feeling horrible but alive. He was alive and Renee loved him and he had a date to keep with a certain painter. Sam might not get back to Eric's to check the mail, but when Eric returned, Sam had a task waiting. Ted or Henry could water Lynne's plants. Sam would stay home and let his wife look after him.
Chapter 101

The following day Laurie received a phone call from Renee; she had been hoping to speak with Eric, but as long as Laurie could get the news of Sam's illness passed along, Renee would be grateful. Laurie posed several questions, which at first surprised Renee, then she permitted his queries. The Snyders hadn't told the New Yorkers the truth about the Aherns, which made Renee bite her lower lip. But the main fact Renee considered was how much she truly loved and needed her husband, who was still sick as a dog she said to Laurie, but by the time Eric returned, Sam would be back on his feet.

Laurie never noticed how Renee omitted Lynne and Jane from the conversation; Renee seemed overwhelmed by Sam's sudden sickness, which she still wasn't sure how to categorize. It came upon Sam like the flu, but no one around them was ill. Laurie told Renee he'd call Eric at Agatha's, where the Snyders were spending the week. Laurie also passed along Agatha's telephone number, in case Renee needed to reach Eric. And that to please let Laurie and Stanford know how Sam was getting along. Renee said she would, then she ended the call, wondering when the Snyders returned to Manhattan if they would spill the beans. The New Yorkers seemed fully unaware of how things had changed on the West Coast.

That was all the analysis Renee allowed, for she was too busy nursing her husband. Thankfully his brothers were happy to check on the Snyder home, leaving Sam in the care of a nurse who didn't mind some cooking and cleaning in addition to tending to her patient. Renee also spoke to Eric, who had called shortly after Renee got off the phone with Laurie, then Eric rang a few days later, checking in. By then Sam was much improved, although still spending most of his time in bed. Only his brother Ted knew just how stricken Sam had been, and to Renee Ted acknowledged that fact; if she had called him when she first found Sam unconscious on the sofa, Ted would have given his brother last rites.

Now Ted came by daily, his hands full of letters. Both he and Henry had found it incredible how much post Eric's paintings generated, although they had seen last summer's exhibit, not to mention the Ahern portraits. The brothers confided to Sam that after Frannie was out of danger, they had gone together, wanting to view what else Eric had created, and that both had been moved to tears. Something about the wildlife contrasting with such accurately measured family portraits provided two Ahern men with hope for their eldest sister, also peace that God's ways couldn't be fathomed by mere human beings. That much of Eric's work was now touring Europe was to Ted very good, although he was glad his family, and Renee's too, weren't included in the retrospective. Ted did share that with Renee, making her smile.

Most of Sam's siblings stayed away that week, on the off chance that his illness was contagious, but Joe and Marjorie Ahern stopped by, along with Henry, who would collect the Snyders' mail and water their houseplants next week. Sam was still so weak that Renee couldn't be expected to leave his side, even Dr. Howard visited. He wasn't Sam's physician, but had wanted to offer his assistance. Yet there wasn't anything he could do that Renee wasn't already providing. Sam needed rest, fluids, and a slow return to his usual activities.

Renee didn't ponder whether or not Sam would be up to posing for Eric when the Snyders came home. She did post a letter Sam composed to Eric, having addressed it to Laurie and Stanford's apartment. While Sam's family visited, Renee did the shopping, the only time she left her husband's side. Marjorie had brought over milk and bread, but going to the market gave Renee time to get away, although she didn't think about anything more than what was written on her list.

On Friday afternoon, Renee left the house with several errands to run; the new car needed gas, which Henry had offered to do, but Sam had explicitly declined that favor. They'd had to break the news about their recent purchase, and while relatives seemed unbothered with their good fortune, the last thing Sam wanted was for family to attend to the vehicle. Renee thought he was being ridiculous; it would be her clan to squawk about the Aherns having two cars, but Sam had insisted. Henry and Ted had laughed at their younger brother, that Sam didn't want anyone else to have the pleasure of taking the new vehicle for a spin. Renee had detected no jealousy from those men and Sam's folks were still concerned about their son's precarious health. It was up to Renee to fill the Chevy's tank, but it was an easy task to manage.

It was first on her list and she crossed it off while the attendant washed her windshield. Then she stopped at the pharmacy, picking up Epsom salts and another thermometer. Then she drove to Dr. Howard's office to check in with Vivian, who told her to take next week on a day by day basis. Renee thanked Vivian, finding the office was exactly as she had left it. Renee was relieved to have changed jobs, only a few people to whom she was obligated.

Grocery shopping took longer; Renee wasn't familiar with where items were located, and several times she had to double-back through the aisles. She stood in what seemed a rather slow line, but was gracious to the checker and bagger. The bag boy pushed Renee's cart, placing her items in the Chevy's trunk, then sheepishly he admired the new car. Renee smiled at him, he barely looked out of his teens. Maybe he thought it novel that she was driving the Bel-Air, but she didn't have time to explain the reason.

Right before she started the engine, she glanced at her list; everything else had been crossed off and with a sense of satisfaction she drew a line through market. Starting the car, she considered her husband; did Sam miss her or was he asleep? Marjorie had brought a book to read, so if Sam was napping, she wouldn't be bored. If he was awake, perhaps they were chatting, plenty of family gossip to ponder. Renee had hurried in every place she stopped, well, all but at the gas station, but even while there she had checked her list, wanting to accomplish everything in the timeliest manner possible. Yet, Sam was in good hands, she hadn't needed to rush.

With cold items in the trunk, now Renee had an impetus to get home quickly. However, she found herself driving with care, or rather, she was taking her sweet time, meandering along streets, slowing down as a light changed from green to yellow. But the bag boy had put all the perishables together and Renee's house wasn't far. The Aherns lived on the eastern side of town but Renee worked on the west side near where the Snyders worshipped, which of course wasn't far from where they lived.

Had anyone told Marek Jagucki about Sam's illness? Probably not, for Renee hadn't heard from the pastor all week. Maybe Eric hadn't wanted to make a long-distance call just to tell him, or at least not from Stanford's housekeeper's home. Eric might telephone the pastor next week from Laurie and Stanford's place, or he might not say anything at all, feeling since Renee wasn't seeing Marek for counseling, it wasn't relevant. Or that it wasn't Eric's place to share the news.

At the next light, all Renee had to do was turn right; her house was a few blocks down that street. She hadn't bought anything to put in the deep freeze, just lunchmeat, butter, and cheese as Marjorie had brought the milk yesterday, not that Sam was eating anything so rich. He was barely finishing a bowl of chicken soup and most of Renee's purchases were canned goods. As she approached the light, which was red, she thought how easy it was to heat up chicken noodle soup for the two of them, maybe some tomato soup this weekend, if Sam was up for it. Renee stopped at the light, absently indicating left, thinking how fortuitous it was that saltines had been on sale at the market. She had bought two boxes, just in case, and as the light turned green, she went left, mulling over how well soda crackers complimented an ordinary bowl of soup.

Renee had never been culinary-minded. Her mother was an excellent cook and Renee had preferred to let Marie spoil her family while Renee happily washed dishes or played cards with her father. Maybe Renee should have insisted on learning more domestic tasks, but those skills would have been wasted. Initially her parents had questioned her decision to enter nursing school, then they offered their full support. Was that because they sensed their daughter needed a profession, that perhaps motherhood wasn't meant for Renee?

That notion had never come up, not when Renee was younger, nor last fall when she had gone back home. Renee had chosen nursing because of stories her uncles told about their exploits in World War II; how kind and competent were those women who had cared for them. Had a romantic idea to tend injured men driven Renee into a job in which she excelled and how ironic that it was her own husband who had needed her attention early on in their marriage. He needed her now, she smiled to herself, then she glanced at where she was; how in the world had she ended up at St. Matthew's Church?

Pulling over to the curb, Renee took several deep breaths, her heart racing. She'd been nearly home, hadn't she gone right? Obviously not, she muttered under her breath. Shaking her head, she wondered how scatter-brained she must be to have missed that turn, yet not only had she missed it, she had blatantly gone the opposite way. She clucked to herself, then put the car into gear. She started to make a three-point turn, but as she approached the curb in front of St. Matthew's, Marek trotted down the front steps.

His smile was wide and he waved, causing Renee to nearly stop breathing. But she did inhale, the air going down her lungs with difficulty, making her choke, which forced her to slam on the brakes. She wasn't parallel to the curb, but close enough that no one would hit her. Then she chided herself; she couldn't pull away, for now Marek stood within feet of the Chevy. Renee would have to roll down her window, but what would she say?

Why was she there, she wondered, as Marek continued to grin. She could tell him Sam was sick, but how would that explain her presence? Stopping by St. Matthew's hadn't been on her list; clearly this errand wasn't planned. Then stinging tears burned in the corners of her eyes. The last time she'd been here, righteous indignation had carried her home. Now at home the man she had been willing to give up was being cared for by his mother. And Renee was wasting time in getting back to him, dawdling here for reasons only known to....

Marek had stepped closely to the car; Renee needed to roll down the window, lest she insult the pastor. As she did, she trembled, feeling her life wasn't her own. God had brought her here, the same God who had taken the twins, who had made Sam enlist, and who for whatever purpose changed Eric Snyder into a hawk. Her presence at St. Matthews that afternoon seemed equally mysterious, but Renee swallowed that notion, rolling down her window, then looking in Marek's direction. "Hello Pastor. How are you?"

"I'm well. And how are you Renee?"

"Um, I'm, uh, you see...." She had wanted to say she was lost, even if she knew this town like the back of her hand. For over a year, Renee hadn't felt like her feet were firmly under her, her life tossed about like a buoy on rough seas. Why shouldn't she take this aberration like everything else that had occurred; there seemed to be little Renee could count on anymore. Well, Sam still loved her, she knew that. But nothing else felt stable.

"It's a fine day for a drive out and this's a beautiful automobile." Marek stood back, gazing at the car. Then he smiled again, lightly tapping the top of the Chevy. "Are you on your way home from work?"

"Oh no, actually, you see...." Renee inhaled, then held her breath. So much to tell the pastor, where was she supposed to start? That she'd found Sam nearly on his deathbed at the beginning of the week seemed like ancient news; there was the call to Laurie, all the Snyder mail gathering on her kitchen table, not to mention that when Eric returned, Sam was going to sit for a portrait. Then Renee shivered. The last thing Sam wanted was to let Eric paint his picture. Had that been what caused Sam's sickness, yet, he wasn't dead. And when Eric came home, Renee had no doubt that Sam would follow through with that agreement. Eric would probably paint Sam at the Aherns', better than making Sam drive to the Snyders'. If sessions went long, Renee wouldn't have to come home to an abandoned house, aware that everyone else was all the way across town.

Yet that's where she was now; Dr. Howard's office was a few streets over, then Lynne and Eric's.... Renee bit her tongue to keep tears at bay. She hadn't allowed that woman's name into her heart for what felt like ages. Renee had concentrated on Eric, the only safe Snyder. But what about Lynne?

All that Renee knew about Lynne was that her houseplants were in good shape. Ted and Henry had both commented about making sure the plants were well watered. But suddenly Renee was curious about Eric's wife; had she made a peach pie for the New Yorkers, and what about for Stanford's cook? That's where Lynne and Eric were now, in Queens, a place Renee knew nothing about, not that she knew much concerning Manhattan, although Lynne had shared stories about Laurie and Stanford's apartment, and about Michael Taylor's too. Renee had heard a little about Central Park, and of course the magnificent gallery where Eric's paintings had been displayed. Manhattan had sounded like another world to Renee, maybe Queens would be more of a place she could identify with, once the Snyders returned and shared their tales.

Hot tears fell down Renee's cheeks. How would she learn anything? She had no plans to chat with Lynne and would only see Eric in passing when she came home from work and he packed up for the day, and those days wouldn't be many, for Eric wouldn't press Sam to pose for longer than was necessary. And Sam would only pass along the barest details, for Renee had made it plain she didn't want to know. She didn't want to involve any of the Snyders within her life because her life no longer held room for their sort of happiness. Lynne's joy was now wrapped up in....

Quickly Renee focused on the steering wheel; she needed to return to Sam. Marek had driven her home once already, but now there was no one to retrieve their car, or to drive the pastor back here. Renee smiled, wiped her cheeks, then glanced at the open window. She tried to avoid Marek's face, but he was looking right at her. His brown eyes were wide, also gentle. It was as if he saw right through her, leaving Renee feeling naked but unafraid.

"I heard your husband wasn't well," Marek began. "Fran Canfield called a few days ago, asking me to pray for Sam. She imagined you were too busy, plus with the Snyders away. I hope it's all right that she told me."

Slowly Renee nodded, immediately feeling guilty that it was Frannie to seek Marek's intersession on Sam's behalf. But then Renee had been making sure her husband didn't die on her. Then she trembled, aware of why Sam was still among the living. Had this Polish pastor considered the same notion, Renee then wondered. Probably, she sighed, again finding herself gazing into Marek's large brown eyes.

"I took the liberty of speaking with Stanford Taylor," Marek continued. "Eric left Stanford's number with me, just in case. Stanford said that Eric and Lynne were in Queens this week, but that they knew about Sam. How is he feeling?"

"Oh, um, better, I mean, a little better. Well, he's much better than he was on Monday." Renee sighed again. "I had to get some groceries and fill up the new car. His mom's with him right now, he's still pretty weak."

"Well, please tell him my prayers are with you both. I'm sure it's quite taxing nursing one's spouse." Marek wore a thoughtful smile. "I hope you're taking good care of yourself."

Renee nodded, then stared at the pastor. While his brown eyes were gentle, his words carried a different meaning. Yet, his tone wasn't chastising; Renee realized his concern and it wasn't solely related to her physical well-being.

"All right, well, if you've been to the market, I'll say goodbye. I don't want your perishables to expire." Marek stood back, again admiring the car. Then he met Renee's gaze. "Might Sam be up for a visitor next week?"

"Oh, um, certainly, I mean, if you have time."

"I always have time for friends," Marek smiled. "I'll ring before I come over, perhaps on Tuesday?"

Slowly Renee nodded; she had never considered Father Riley or Father Markham as her friend. But then Marek was Eric's pastor. And Tuesday would be fine, Renee had nothing scheduled anymore on that day. As that thought entered her head, she stared sharply at the man now standing on the sidewalk. But Marek wasn't looking at her; he was focusing on the car. Had he said Tuesday for a reason or was it simply a free afternoon? "Um, sure, Tuesday should be fine," Renee stammered. "But please do call first, you know, just in case."

"Of course. In the meantime, give Sam my best. Hope to see you both next week."

"Yes, next week. And I will, I mean, give him your regards." Renee tried not to meet Marek's gaze as she spoke, yet how subtly he had gone from inspecting the Chevy to finding her eyes. And in his eyes Renee was again struck by his kindness, also his knowledge. He hadn't implied any guilt that it was one of Sam's relatives to call him, nor had he pressed as to why Renee had driven to St. Matthew's. Renee rolled up her window, then put the car into gear. Marek waved as she pulled away, but he didn't loiter on the sidewalk as she peeked in the rear view mirror. No one stood in front of St. Matthew's as if that entire conversation had been a figment in Renee's head.

Yet, as she drove home, she knew Marek would call next Tuesday, and by then Sam probably would be ready for a new face. By Tuesday, Renee might even go back to work, albeit for a half day. And by the time the Snyders came home, Sam would be mostly recovered, nothing to hinder him from posing in front of the Bel-Air. Well, he might not want to stand for the entire time, or maybe this illness would disappear as suddenly as it had hit him. As Renee stopped at a red light, she glanced to her right, from where she had made that erroneous left turn. Then she shook her head, focusing on the stoplight. As it turned green, she hit the accelerator, hoping Sam's mother wouldn't notice if the butter seemed a little soft. Renee would tell Sam about this incident privately, in part that she needed to offer Marek's regards. And that only Sam might comprehend why for no apparent reason she had gone left instead of right.
Chapter 102

On Sunday afternoon, a great peace filled Eric's heart. His stomach was just as full, for Agatha, her sister Belle, and Lynne had prepared a meal that Eric felt would never be beaten within his lifetime. Not even Sam at the top of his game could have out-cooked these women, each with specialties that wove harmoniously as if proclaiming the entry to heaven waited in one New York borough.

Agatha had been in charge of the meats while Belle provided the side dishes. Lynne baked pies, but not only apple, peach, and pumpkin. In that week, she had recreated several favorites from Agatha and Belle's childhood, pecan and sweet potato, blackberry cobbler and a banana pudding dish that Jane loved. Eric's trousers were a little tight, even with all the walks around the neighborhood they had taken. He would watch what he ate for the next couple of weeks, yet there was still the visit to Laurie's Aunt Wilma to consider, not to mention all that Agatha would prepare when the Snyders returned to Manhattan. Eric wondered if the week Agatha spoiled his family was indeed an extension of her life working for Stanford. This was supposed to be Agatha's vacation, however she seemed to have spent much of it in her own kitchen. Yet, she never seemed unhappy; Eric had a bulging sketchbook as proof that Agatha Morris was most content within the confines of domesticity.

Her sister Belle seemed a similar sort, although she also liked being outdoors; the women lived just a few blocks apart, much like Rose Abrams and Wilma Gordon. And like Laurie's family, it was women in charge in Queens, although Agatha and Belle weren't widows. Their husbands were quiet men who allowed their wives to cluck and banter, yet Donald Morris and Al Washington provided necessary strength to their families. At times that power seemed invisible, when it was the sisters to round up their children for various tasks. Then those men would stand at their wives' sides, their silent yet present personas firmly upholding familial law.

Eric, Lynne, and Jane had been welcomed into Agatha and Donald's family as if long lost relatives. The Snyders were also now a part of the Washington clan, or maybe Eric had adopted all of them, for a series awaited once he finished Sam's portrait. Or maybe, Eric considered, sitting in Agatha's small backyard, Sam's picture might be postponed. Depending on how Sam was recovering, Eric might start with reducing the girth within his sketchbook, a host of drawings waiting to come to life.

There had been a multitude created while Agatha, Belle, and Lynne cooked together, Lynne sharing her pie crust recipe with two women who claimed it was exactly the same ratio of ingredients used by their late mother. While Jane rested in the arms of Agatha's eldest daughter, Eric deftly recreated the scene, then another, followed by more sketches. He wouldn't paint all of them, but after two weeks away from his craft, he had needed this time with pencil and paper. And immersing himself within this new world had given novel spark to the drawings, for Queens was nothing like Manhattan or the Snyders' life back home. Not even around Sam and Renee's large families had Eric encountered this slice of the American experience. It hummed with ties to ancient southern days, as if this wasn't New York State but Mississippi, Georgia, or Alabama. The sense of propriety and manners was very old fashioned, but so inclusive that Eric couldn't wait to translate that warmth and rich history, feeling blessed that such an opportunity had been cast in his direction.

He had sought permission of all his subjects and no one had turned down the chance to be captured by who Agatha claimed was the finest painter of his generation. To Eric's surprise, many of her relatives had seen his exhibit last fall, some of the younger family members speaking in a tone of near duress, which had made him smile. Those older had lavished praise upon his paintings, the blue barn garnering much of the attention, but other pictures were noted, especially The Pastor and His Charge. Jane was loved by all and the Snyders' pastor was also admired; Belle's mother-in-law had quietly expressed to Eric how that man had suffered a great trial, but seemed to have made his peace with it. Eric had nodded, wondering how much this woman had endured within her life, some of it spent there in Queens, but much had been lived in the Mississippi Delta under great hardship. Eric had heard similar sentiments from the elders of Agatha's family, although none of them mentioned the nudes, nor had Lynne heard any remarks concerning those paintings. It was as if Eric's work didn't tarry from family portraits and landscapes.

What Eric wanted to convey, when he began this series, wasn't how he'd felt when he had painted the Ahern and Nolan clans. Life in Queens, as he thought of it, would be similar to how he'd initially captured his wife amid her hobbies. Yet how much deeper would these canvases display somewhat ordinary tasks, from kitchen duties to youngsters skipping rope to men smoking cigarettes while chatting about baseball. Eric had heard nothing about Sam's beloved Red Sox; in Queens all the talk was about the Dodgers and Giants, even if those teams no longer resided in New York.

Eric felt this series would surpass those he painted of Lynne for a couple of reasons; his skills were sharper and there was nothing to hide. He wanted complete openness to be experienced within these paintings, similar to the nudes he had created of his wife, who would appear in only of a couple of the canvases. Agatha had purposely asked Eric to keep Lynne within at least a few pieces, ones that she wanted to display within her home. Eric understood the meaning, which wasn't merely about who stood within the paintings, but that now the Snyders were members of Agatha's family. Belle had said much the same, warming Eric's heart, and making him chuckle; just how many relatives had he, Lynne, and Jane inherited upon this trip east?

They had been made just as welcome in their brief visit to Brooklyn, Lynne collecting a bevy of addresses for future correspondence. Yet not all would receive the same sorts of greetings; those in Queens would be put on the Snyders' Christmas card list, while Lynne would send different notes to the Abrams and Gordon women. Did Jews send Hanukkah cards, Eric wondered, as his wife and daughter approached. Jane's face was smeared with what looked to be remnants of blackberry cobbler and Lynne's smile was.... Eric's pulsed raced. The last two mornings Lynne hadn't felt well, and while the couple had passed it off as travel weariness, Eric thought something far better was the cause for his wife's fatigue and slight nausea. Yet he only grinned back at the two females, standing from his chair as Jane stretched out her arms, calling for him.

He laughed as Lynne handed over the squealing baby, who immediately nuzzled against his shirt, leaving traces of cobbler. "Well hello there," Eric said to his daughter, kissing her face. Then he looked at his wife, Lynne's eyes almost teary. "Everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded emphatically, but didn't speak. Eric knew if she did, a dam would burst, and his heart pounded, but not in fear. He reached out for her with his free arm and Lynne stepped to his side. If they had been alone, she would have buried her face against him, but instead she merely placed a kiss on his cheek, then gazed out at those gathered near. In her long stare, Eric realized Lynne felt as he did, that these people were now their family. And from how closely she stood beside him, Eric had to wonder if their family would soon be comprised of another member.

He laughed; how ironic that with Jane it took weeks for the couple to comprehend they were expecting a baby. This time that addition was already known, if only just conceived. How Eric deduced that his wife was pregnant he wasn't certain, other than Lynne felt the same, her gentle whisper of I love you being passed as if she had just seen Dr. Salters. It was Lynne's tender tone, her needy grip, and a fragrance in the air that had nothing to do with the sumptuous feast just yards away. The scent was of their home, and of church, a healing aroma that Eric had only encountered a few times in his life. He looked at his wife, who now sported tears along her cheeks as well as a radiant beauty worn when she had carried their daughter. Eric trembled, then laughed out loud. Conventional manners of sharing such news weren't for them, but then nothing about their lives could be deemed usual.

But turning into a hawk didn't enter Eric's consciousness; it was due to this family among whom they stood, it was his gift to translate feelings into images, it was in how long they had waited for children, and now Lynne was again.... Eric kissed her, perhaps more intimately than was proper for such a setting, yet he couldn't stop, not even with Jane clamoring in his grasp. When Lynne ended the kiss, blushing as she did so, Eric again broke into laughter. When they told their most loved, and now there were plenty to inform, it would be humorous that their second child found its start on the East Coast. Eric had no inkling if Jane would receive a sister or brother, but he was absolutely certain a sibling was coming sometime in early 1964.

Then Eric's heart skipped a beat; how would they tell the Aherns? For all these newfound relatives, those closest to their hearts would be the hardest with whom to share this news. Perhaps it would drive Renee further away and would it be even more difficult for Sam to pose? Eric closed his eyes, praying for.... He blinked, then gazed at Lynne, her somewhat subdued countenance as if in agreement. She nodded, then gripped his hand, then reached for their daughter. Jane happily went to her mother's arms, where she leaned her head on Lynne's shoulder. Eric stroked his wife's face, then smiled. This news was too good to be clouded with what if's. Then he chuckled; if Lynne began to suffer from full blown morning sickness in Manhattan, how would they hide it?

"Agatha asked if I was feeling all right." Lynne's tone was like an answer to Eric's unspoken query. Then she smiled. "I said yes, but she frowned at me. I didn't actually come out and say anything but...."

"But she assumed something." Eric smiled, shaking his head. "What'd you tell her?"

"I said we were trying to add to the family," Lynne giggled.

"I think we have." Eric wanted to place his hand on her belly, but he refrained. He did stroke his wife's cheek, then caressed Jane's head. "How do you feel?"

"Okay right now. Well, tired." Then Lynne laughed. "Oh Eric, do you really think we're...."

He nodded, then pulled her close. Jane protested the group hug, but parents ignored her wailing. When Eric released his wife, Jane gave them both a look, which made them laugh out loud. But they kept the reason for that mirth to themselves as Agatha joined them, taking Jane in her arms, consoling the child that she would always be the oldest.

That evening, the Snyders packed up their room; they would return to Manhattan tomorrow by taxi, Agatha with them. She wondered how long that commute would take, but Eric said they were happy to leave as early as was necessary for Agatha to reach work by seven a.m. Agatha had scoffed at that, noting Laurie could make the coffee. Eric teased that it wouldn't be as good as what he'd enjoyed all week, rousing Agatha's smile. Her husband Donald added that she made two pots every morning, one for them, and one for her employers. No one in Queens spoke of Stanford and Laurie by name, but Eric never felt the couple was talked about behind their backs. Agatha had worked for Stanford for over ten years and was well compensated. The nature of his relationship with Laurie didn't seem to cause offense among Agatha's family.

But the men hadn't been the subject of conversation either; it was as if Agatha never left this neighborhood, yet she worked a long day every Monday through Friday. Eric hadn't inquired as to how often she received vacations, then he suddenly wished they were going back via the subway. It would make for a prolonged journey, yet it was how Agatha traveled back and forth from this world to one so different. Eric wanted to broach the possibility, but wasn't sure how. Then he glanced at Lynne, who looked ready for bed. Taking a cab would be far easier on her and he smiled at himself. If she was ill at Stanford and Laurie's, the news would have to be shared, which would cause some awkwardness for Eric's dealer. But another week of their vacation remained and if how Lynne had felt when first pregnant with Jane was any indicator.... Then Eric sighed. For the first several weeks, Lynne had seemed just fine. By the time Eric realized she was expecting, Lynne was probably seven weeks pregnant. He counted back, finding she was maybe four weeks along; was she carrying twins? For a second he shuddered, then he set it from his mind. Perhaps it was a boy this time, which also gave him pause. Or maybe now that Lynne knew the symptoms, it was harder to ignore them. Eric settled on that, then he counted their many suitcases; a vacation with two children might be a long time in coming.

He chuckled, then sat on the edge of the bed. He patted the space beside him and Lynne sat down. "We won't be back here for a good while," he said, putting his arm around her.

"Agatha said the same when she asked how I was." Lynne sighed, then smiled. "Oh Eric, do you really think I'm...." Her voice grew teary and she leaned against him.

"I do, and honey, I love you so much." He kissed her head, then set his hand on her flat belly. "What a good place to make a baby," he then whispered.

Lynne stared at him, then smiled. "What, New York?"

"Sure. And who knows where we'll make number three?"

Now Lynne gaped at her husband. "Oh my goodness."

"Well, we still don't know where we made Jane. Now we'll just have to assume this one was conceived in Manhattan." Then Eric broke into a belly laugh. "Laurie will never let Stan forget that a child was conceived in their apartment."

Lynne's eyes went wide, then she shook her head. "Hopefully he'll have the good sense to only tease when they're alone."

"I agree." Eric stroked Lynne's abdomen, then he cleared his throat. "Do you want them to know?"

"I'm not sure. Actually, maybe we can hold off telling them until we get home. Unless, I mean...."

"If you get too sick." Eric nodded. "That's probably for the best, or at least the best for Stanford."

"Uh-huh. But Eric, how're we gonna tell...."

Lynne's voice trailed off, then she nestled against her husband's shoulder. Eric wasn't sure how they would inform the Aherns, or more rightly Sam. Eric looked forward to telling Marek, Mrs. Kenny, and others at St. Matthew's. He knew Fran and Louie would be happy, but as to their dearest friends? It seemed like rubbing salt in very deep wounds, for both Aherns. "I dunno honey. That one I'm leaving up to God."

"Me too." Lynne sighed, then brushed tears from her eyes. "Eric, I do wanna tell Marek, I mean, once we're home and I've seen Dr. Salters. And I know Fran will be pleased for us. But I'm scared, which I realize sounds silly. Maybe we'll have this baby at the hospital. I don't think Dr. Salters would wanna deliver without another qualified person present and there just isn't anyone else I'd trust, I mean, another nurse. Or doctor," Lynne added.

"Honey, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Eric felt the same, but wouldn't add to his wife's slight anxiety. Nor would he consider whether or not he might be among those missing from the list. "Let's just enjoy our last week of vacation and deal with the rest of it when we get home."

Lynne nodded, then smiled. "If I thought I'd be feeling fine in the morning, I'd be tempted to ask Agatha if we could take the subway. I'll probably never get the chance again."

Now Eric laughed. "I thought the same thing. But I think she's looking forward to not using that method of transportation. And what you wanna bet that in several hours you might change your mind?"

Lynne chuckled. "Maybe so, well, for me. Agatha seemed pretty excited about not having to use the train. Eric, I know we won't be coming out here again for a while, but when we do, if they'll have us, I wanna stay here. I've never felt so, so...."

Lynne burst into tears and Eric pulled her close to muffle the sound. Their door was partially closed, and while Eric didn't think Lynne's mood would be easily discerned, he wanted to shield her. Even if she wasn't pregnant, this sort of outburst wouldn't be unexpected; they had been away from home for three weeks and while both had enjoyed every minute of the break, it was stressful to go from one place to another. But Lynne wept hard, although not from sorrow. It was due to hormones, Eric smiled, and knowledge; for years and years the Snyders' world had consisted of only themselves. Very slowly others had been gathered into their tiny circle, but now walls had been torn down, not painfully, but the abundance of love did feel somewhat altering. Eric had never collected so many sketches within such a short time; initially his right arm had ached from disuse. And to his chagrin, none of those drawings were of one couple who had still avoided his gift. Would Eric get a chance to put Stanford and Laurie onto paper? Maybe he would record their reactions to the Snyders' good news, if that news was shared. As Lynne pulled away, wiping her face, Eric saw many feelings coursing through her. She appeared so altered and he smiled at himself, how had he missed this that morning or yesterday or.... But a baby's beginnings occurred far from what even his remarkable eyes could envision. And while this child had probably been conceived at Stanford and Laurie's, Eric would always carry the memory of this place where that baby had been realized, not by a doctor's proclamation, but the simple awareness of one human's love for another. And it wasn't merely Eric's affections for his wife; Agatha had brought it to Lynne's attention before Eric said a single word.

Agatha coughed just beyond the guest room door and Eric smiled. "Come on in."

Jane's babbles were detected as Agatha stepped into the room. "Just wanted to give you back your child." Then Agatha smiled. "I think she needs a new diaper."

Eric inhaled, then laughed. "Indeed she does. Here, I'll take her." He stood, collecting Jane from Agatha's grasp, then Jane drooped against her father's shoulder. As soon as he changed her, Eric knew his daughter would be ready for bed. And he wouldn't need to make excuses for himself and Lynne to swiftly follow.

"Change her in my room," Agatha said. "I had Don fix a place in there."

Eric stepped to the door. "Thank you, but are you sure?"

Agatha nodded. "I want a minute with Lynne."

Eric smiled, then left for the master bedroom, wondering how often Agatha used that firm but loving tone with Stanford Taylor. Probably more than Eric might imagine, he assumed, telling his daughter it was nearly time for sleep.
Chapter 103

It wasn't until Tuesday that Laurie realized something was altered with the Snyders. Their first day back he'd been so glad for their return that all he could do was hold Jane and talk with her parents. Laurie had taken that Monday off from work, wanting time with that family without Stanford milling about. As much as Laurie loved Stan, sometimes his reserve was a pain in the neck.

On their second day home, as Laurie thought of it, he noticed a different fatigue edging Lynne's demeanor. She walked more slowly, looked weary, but a warm joy blurred those slightly ragged edges. Laurie wondered if that was due to spending so much time with Agatha's family, whom he had never actually met. When Lynne left the room, usually to change Jane or put her to sleep, Laurie pondered how neither he nor Stanford had ever interacted with Agatha's relatives. But as soon as Lynne returned, Laurie was distracted from his thoughts, for the Lynne Snyder that came back from Queens was definitely not the same woman as before.

Laurie also noted a difference in Eric's mood, but perhaps that was due to the new series about which he couldn't stop speaking. Not even Sam's illness could cast a pall on all the work Eric had lined up for when he returned home. While the subject matter had made Stanford roll his eyes, he had also lit up from Eric's enthusiasm, mostly shared on Monday evening after Agatha had left for the day. Laurie had been greatly relieved to see Stan so animated and he wanted to share that with the Snyders, how their visit had lifted Stanford's still lingering malaise. That discontent had been rekindled after the Snyders' departure, which Laurie had immediately noticed, but not mentioned. And it wasn't simply due to their houseguests' absence, or Agatha's. Laurie had received a letter from Seth and while parts of it had made both Laurie and Stanford laugh out loud, reading between the lines Laurie detected anxiety over which he was utterly helpless.

The men had found hilarious Seth's observations about the depth of Uncle Mickey's religious convictions; yes, the Goldsmith home was Kosher, and they went to services every Friday evening. But other than those delineations, Uncle Mickey wasn't much different than his older sisters when it came to discussing politics or the news in general. The Goldsmith and Feinman families gossiped just as much as Laurie and Seth's relations, although news from Israel featured heavily in the Floridians' conversations. And, Seth wrote pointedly, so did updates from Europe, especially concerning anything to do with The Holocaust.

It was then that Laurie had to carefully sift through what Seth didn't say, discerning an underlying tension that Laurie had assumed might occur. He hadn't shared this letter with his mother yet, although he needed to. But the last time they spoke, Rose said that Wilma had gotten a card from Seth, so Laurie wasn't the only correspondent. Laurie imagined Wilma's letter had only noted Uncle Mickey and Aunt Sheila's antics, deftly omitting Sheila's relatives. Wilma, and of course Rose, had learned all about the Goldsmiths, but others dwelled in Miami.

Having taken another day off from work, Laurie settled into his usual chair in the living room. He considered how these Jewish clans were similar to Agatha's relations in Queens. Then he frowned inwardly. He knew far less about those families; Agatha's husband was Don, they had six children, and her sister was Belle, or perhaps Bella. Then Laurie sighed; was that all he knew about the woman who understood just about everything Laurie held dear? Agatha knew all about Seth and while Uncle Mickey was mostly an unknown, within the next few weeks Agatha would absorb those Floridians because Seth and that clan wouldn't stay under the table. Laurie would need to speak about them to Stanford and not only after Agatha left for the day or on weekends. Eric and Lynne knew far more about those in Queens than Laurie ever would, which for a few seconds pained him. Then he smiled; for years Eric and Lynne had only each other. High time they had plenty of relatives over whom to fuss.

And who could spoil them; Laurie sensed how much the Snyders meant to Agatha, from how tenderly she treated them. She toted Jane like she was that girl's grandmother or very dear aunt. She huffed over Eric's plans for the new series in the same way she clucked when Stanford had a new artist about which he couldn't stop speaking. And around Lynne, Agatha was a surrogate mother, just how she subtly cared for Stanford, especially over the last few years. Yet with Lynne, Agatha was permitted an even deeper bond for Lynne was a woman. And no one was harder to approach than the man Laurie loved.

Right now Laurie was alone in the living room; Eric was on the phone with Renee and perhaps Sam was well enough to speak. Jane was being bathed by her mother and auntie, which made Laurie grin. Agatha had returned as Auntie Agatha and a few times Laurie would swear he'd heard Aunt Aggie spoken. Stanford had seemed hesitant about leaving that morning, although only Laurie and probably Agatha had seen through his gruff bearing. He'd lingered in the kitchen far longer than he would have if it had only been the three of them. But now another trio made it sextet and that night for supper Agatha was frying chicken. It was one of her specialties, but she rarely made it for only the men, too much work being her excuse. That evening, with Lynne's assistance, there would be chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and probably pie. Eric's face looked slightly rounded, Laurie had thought yesterday. How many divine dishes had that man sampled while Laurie and Stanford made do with Chinese takeout and cold sandwiches?

Laurie chuckled to himself, then was joined by a rather jovial looking painter. Eric's grin was honest, which pleased Laurie. "So is Sam improving?" Laurie asked, getting to his feet, meeting Eric in the middle of the room.

"He is, although to hear Renee tell it, Sam has weeks of convalescence remaining. I was surprised she was there," Eric continued. "But I guess she's going back to work tomorrow. Sam said Marek is stopping by this afternoon, guess she wanted to keep tabs on that conversation."

"Well, Renee knows how to talk." Laurie smiled. "I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that discussion."

"Me too." Eric's grin flickered, then he sighed. "But at least Sam's better. From what he wrote me, I had to wonder just how sick he'd been." Eric looked at the floor, then around the room. Laurie felt a purpose within that break of eye contact, for when Eric met Laurie's gaze, an issue rested in Eric's eyes.

Since the Snyders' arrival, or maybe a few days into their stay, Laurie had felt blessed not only with their presence, but for the opportunity to better get to know an artist who to Laurie possessed a most keen vision. Maybe because Eric was one of Stan's clients, it had taken Laurie longer to truly appreciate Eric's viewpoint, or perhaps that vision was so deep it would take anyone a long while to understand the breadth of how Eric saw the world. Or had the sketches Eric made in Queens truly opened Laurie's eyes?

Those drawings, made in relative haste, provided Laurie with an unique window into a sphere he knew nothing of, even if the main subject was within his realm almost more often than she dwelled in her own domain. Stanford had examined the drawings with the mind of a dealer, which had gladdened Laurie's heart. But Laurie studied them as an art lover, also wishing to better understand a culture with which he had almost no experience. The pictures displayed more than subjects, but then if Eric had asked to sketch Laurie's family, another vista of Americana would have been revealed. Maybe Laurie should drop a hint when they went to Aunt Wilma's on Thursday. Then he smiled; his mother would never forgive him if Eric drew the chocolate cake and not Rose's coconut. It was bad enough that they were going to visit Wilma. But maybe Lynne might ask for the recipe; how would Wilma dare to give it to Lynne if she wouldn't even share it with Laurie's mother?

Now Laurie laughed, gazing at Eric, who also wore a smile. Laurie forgot all about that baking rivalry, Agatha's family, even Seth. For within Eric's grin a better joy reigned, one that Laurie had never felt personally, but it seemed so familiar as if something Laurie had once considered. Then he felt a giddy thrill, recalling how green around the gills Lynne had looked that morning, how she drank no coffee, only sipping juice while Agatha plied her with toast and plain oatmeal, Agatha's tone especially soothing. Was Lynne expecting a....

Laurie almost asked, but stopped himself. It had taken the Snyders a long time to have Jane, for reasons beyond Laurie's knowledge. If Lynne was pregnant, it wasn't for Laurie to indicate. But Eric's laughter, ringing through the staid living room, seemed to broach such wonderful news. Then Eric patted Laurie's shoulder. "So shall I tell you now," Eric smiled, "or wait till Stan comes home?"

Laurie's lip trembled and he felt weak in the knees. When he learned the Snyders were expecting Jane, he'd been distracted by Lynne's portraits, those nudes some of the most beautiful pieces of artwork Laurie had ever seen. Actually, he'd been staring at Lynne's breasts, the differing hues catching his attention. Eric's sense of color was so perfect, those altered shades had caught Laurie off guard. Laurie wished to again peruse the sketches done in Queens; even though they were made in pencil, he was certain Eric had captured Lynne in a manner which to a more discerning eye would reveal that yes, this couple was expecting their second child.

"Tell me now," Laurie said quietly. "I'll tell Stan tonight, if Lynne can keep it under wraps."

Eric grinned broadly. "We wondered how he'd take the news, I mean, you know what I mean."

Laurie chuckled as a special joy coursed all through him. "So Eric, is Lynne expecting...."

But to say those words wasn't Laurie's task and Eric laughed heartily. "Are you ready to be an uncle again?"

"Oh indeed I am!" Laurie hugged Eric, slapping his back in the process. As their embrace ended, Laurie blinked away tears. "Did you know before you went to Queens?"

"No, and it's early days." For a few seconds, Eric looked somber. But his happiness couldn't be hidden. "She was feeling crummy in the mornings for much of last week. I think we both wondered, but didn't wanna say anything. Actually, Agatha brought it up with Lynne. I guess I wanted to tell you so you didn't think Lynne was under the weather."

"Well, what she has certainly isn't contagious." Laurie's heart felt bursting with familial joy, which he hadn't experienced since Jane's arrival. There was a difference in this pleasure from what Laurie shared with Stanford. That was solely between the men, rarely shared with anyone else. This news was just what Laurie needed, although he understood Eric's slight hesitation. Until Lynne was further along, anything could happen. But Laurie felt this baby's existence had begun under very good auspices. Then he nearly blushed; had the Snyders been expecting before they arrived or had this baby been conceived....

He wouldn't ask, yet when he and Stan were alone.... Then Laurie laughed aloud, gripping Eric's hand and shaking it. "Oh, what fantastic news. My goodness, how did the Aherns take it?"

Eric's smile faded. "I didn't tell them. We'll wait until we get home."

Laurie released Eric's hand. "Is Sam really okay?"

"He is. It's just that, it's a little delicate you know."

Laurie nodded. "I suppose it is. You think they'll, I mean...." Suddenly Laurie felt a chill. During the first half of their stay the Snyders had said little about the Aherns. And other than talking about Sam's health, nothing had been stated about them yesterday. "How're they doing?"

Again Eric glanced around the room, taking his time in meeting Laurie's gaze. Eric inhaled deeply and as he let it out, Laurie felt a weight upon Eric's shoulders similar to the one Laurie couldn't shake from his own. Eric motioned to the sofa and Laurie followed. In low tones, Eric spoke his heart, which at first saddened Laurie for the pain still suffered by Sam and especially Renee. Then as Eric finished speaking, Laurie began to talk about Seth. By the time Lynne, Agatha, and Jane entered the living room, many truths had been shared. Yet, the burdens didn't seem as heavy now. Perhaps even though both Laurie and Eric carried weights, that dual anguish was lightened just by another's knowledge.

Then as Laurie stood, a more lasting delight resounded; now Laurie understood the weary but wonderful bliss that dogged Lynne's steps. He nearly jumped from the sofa and she began to laugh, then cry, as he reached her, grabbing her in a bear hug. He glanced at Agatha, her smile wide. Jane giggled like she comprehended the news, which Laurie thought boded well. Very soon Miss Jane wouldn't be the star of the show.

"Congratulations," Laurie said softly, aware that for as good as this announcement was, it was still very new. He let Lynne pull away, although he couldn't help but remain close to her. He even stroked her cheek, where tears ran, feeling a most proprietary notion within him. It was as if Lynne was his younger sister, or maybe she was filling the hole Seth had left within Laurie's heart. Only then did Laurie allow how large and debilitating was that space. But now it was being replenished and again he hugged Lynne, telling her in a soft whisper how happy he was and how thrilled Stanford would be.

That made Lynne laugh as she stepped back, now wiping copious tears from her face. "Will he really?" she murmured.

"Oh yeah, once he gets over the total embarrassment."

"Stanford?" both Eric and Agatha said in unison.

Laurie roared in laughter. "The one and only. I'll tell him this evening after we've had our nightcaps, or we gentlemen have imbibed. He'll be out the door tomorrow morning before Lynne gets out of bed."

"But will she get to see him for the rest of the trip?" Eric teased.

"Oh she will," Laurie chuckled. "And I can't wait to watch him squirm."

"Now you all be kind to Stanford," Agatha chided, then giggled. She tickled Jane's chin, then kissed the baby's cheek. "He'll take a day or two to warm up but once he does...."

"Once he does, be prepared Lynne. He might even give you an impromptu hug." Laurie considered how Stanford would respond when told. Then Laurie smiled. "I bet by tomorrow night he'll be over it, or he'll put on a good show. Either way, just know that both of us are thrilled to bits. Too bad we can't tell Mom and Aunt Wilma yet, but that'll come in good time." Laurie chuckled, then had a soft sigh. The Aherns were still in the dark and the reason for that had to have crossed Lynne's mind more than once. And for all Agatha knew about this little family, Laurie doubted that she had been informed about Sam and Renee. Then Laurie smiled. "What about your Polish pastor," he asked Eric. "He'll be pleased as punch I assume."

"I'm sure Marek will be just as thrilled as you. He'll have one more person to speak Polish with," Eric laughed.

"Oh, I imagine he feels the same as me about Jane, she's got more uncles than she knows what to do with."

"And a few aunties too," Agatha said.

"Yes, a few aunties." Laurie reached out for Jane, who immediately went to his grasp. She giggled in his arms, then babbled as if knowing all that had been spoken around her. Within Laurie's heart that cavernous space no longer felt drafty. It was warmed from deep inside, which lifted him, then seemed like a warning. He ignored what the future held, instead focusing on the beauty of that moment. Then he smiled. "So does this mean you'll need a hand tonight making supper?"

Lynne giggled. "Indeed it might. I'm feeling good now, should probably start the pie. Then when Jane naps, I might join her."

"I think that's a very good idea." Agatha cleared her throat. "In fact, these men can watch Jane." She looked at Eric, then to Laurie. "If you need us, we'll be in the kitchen. Lunch will be ready in forty-five minutes."

Lynne stifled another giggle, but Laurie didn't hide his. "Yes ma'am!"

Agatha smirked, then led Lynne from the room. When they were gone, Laurie smiled. "Goodness gracious, how did you last for a week in Queens?"

Eric laughed. "Oh, it was easy. I just sat and drew while the women did all the work."

Laurie nodded. "I bet that's how it went. Speaking of those drawings, you mind if I have another look at them?"

Eric's gaze was curious, then he grinned. "Of course not. I'll be right back."

"Take them to the dining room, then I can spread them over the table."

"Won't Agatha want us to eat lunch in there?"

"Oh, we can use the kitchen. Cozier in there anyways."

Eric smiled, then exited the room. Laurie looked at the walls, tastefully appointed with various pieces from Stanford and Laurie's clients, definitely the haunt of two art dealers. Might another Snyder infant cause them to alter the décor, to baby-proof even? Laurie smiled, then kissed Jane's forehead. "I love you, you know. And I'm gonna adore who's coming next." His voice was soft and Jane smiled. Then she nestled against his shoulder, making Laurie's eyes water. He toted her into the dining room where her father was waiting, pictures in a stack on the large oak table. But Laurie didn't hand Jane to her father; he sat near the sketches, then removed the top one, placing it in front of himself. It was of Lynne, Agatha, and her sister; was it Belle or Bella? Laurie wouldn't inquire, it wasn't overly important, and Eric would probably tell him in a matter of minutes. Instead Laurie concentrated on the women's faces, how Agatha and her sister seemed ageless. And he noticed the distinct happiness upon Lynne, not only her face but her entire being seemed alight. If Eric hadn't consciously known she was expecting, somehow his spectacular vision had seen it, for this impression of Lynne was teeming with.... With love, Laurie inhaled, then exhaled, as Jane still sagged against his shoulder. Yet Laurie wasn't jealous, although he would never share that sort of bond with Stanford. How could Laurie rue what the Snyders had achieved when through that loving action Laurie's heart was being put back together?

He said nothing about that, but admired the next sketch, Agatha and her husband with some of their children. Not all six, Laurie smiled, nor were they little. In Eric's skillful strokes, Laurie noted the resemblances, and how Agatha's bearing was altered from the previous drawing. Here she was a mother, nothing like the cook and housekeeper he'd always known her as and again Laurie was struck by Eric ability to change viewpoints. Never again would Laurie view Agatha as merely his and Stanford's employee, not that he considered her as hired help. In a simple pencil drawing she was lively and warm and.... Laurie gazed at Eric, who was studying the next drawing on the stack. A genius stood only feet away from where Laurie sat, making Laurie shiver. That quaking stirred Jane, who had fallen asleep on Laurie's shoulder. He patted her back, telling her he loved her, and that he was sorry for waking her. Jane responded by yawning, then placing her head right back where it had been.

Now Eric met Laurie's gaze and for one moment, Laurie felt to have seen through Eric's eyes, but it wasn't about appreciating sketches or one's offspring. It was a heavy albeit manageable calling that coalesced in art, but was born of something beyond Laurie's comprehension. Yet it was so tantalizingly close that Laurie ached to get up from his chair, stand beside Eric, then grip his right hand. Within that right arm Eric owned a tremendous gift, but the cost was.... Maybe it wasn't the cost, but the impetus, the trade-off, the sacrifice.... The reason for that gift was something so extraordinary, so maddeningly right past where Laurie could grasp, all he could do was slump back gently, not wishing to again stir Jane. Then Laurie sighed, but not in frustration. It was in a small piece of understanding, maybe compensatory in nature. He might never know how or why Eric's talent was so great, but finally Laurie could measure the satisfaction in fathering a child. Not that he ever would, nor did he feel to have lost an opportunity. But how often had Stanford wondered why men and women were attracted to each other, and how many times had Laurie attempted to explain it. The meaning sat across Laurie's shoulder, if not perhaps in one of that affection's most basic forms. It was why the Snyders were expecting another child, which would embarrass Stanford when Laurie noted the couple had probably made that baby right in that very apartment. It had to do with what a man and woman could fashion whether they were artists or art dealers, cooks or nurses, pastors or even priests. It was human nature to want to leave something behind.

Laurie wasn't sure what his legacy would be, other than promoting art, which was the same as Stanford's. Eric's was twofold, but Laurie felt the little girl softly snoring over his shoulder was the greater bequest, even if her father was the most talented painter Laurie had ever known. Yet if Jane and her impending sibling were Eric's most prized treasures, how did he balance such gifts, not to mention his love for Lynne, so evident in these drawings. There was something, Laurie permitted, then he allowed that perhaps the mystery would never be solved as Eric set another sketch in front of him. Girls were jumping rope, their limbs fluid on the paper. Laurie looked at Eric, who wore a Cheshire cat sort of grin. Then Eric quickly gazed away, as if not wishing for Laurie to learn his deepest secret.

Laurie shivered; that secret was something so fantastic that to deduce it would forever alter their relationship. It was akin to whatever Seth suffered, Laurie then acknowledged, although thank God Eric could use his gift for the greater good.

Then Laurie closed his eyes, offering a prayer for his cousin. Eric had survived his horrible childhood and if there was any way Seth could return from Florida somewhat healed.... When Laurie opened his eyes, he found Eric seated across from him, his eyes also closed. Maybe they had asked for the same thing, Laurie mused, or perhaps Eric was merely giving thanks for another child. Laurie didn't speak, but when Eric opened his eyes, giving Laurie a peaceful smile, Laurie nodded, then went back to the safety of Eric's drawing as if nothing was more complicated than a neighborhood in Queens, New York.
Chapter 104

That evening Lynne maintained the façade as a mother of one, even though Agatha and Laurie often caught themselves chuckling together. Laurie was amazed at how easily Eric kept the secret, but he didn't dwell on that painter's ability to shield the truth. Laurie simply enjoyed knowing what Stanford didn't until the men snuggled under their covers. Then Laurie started to imply that he knew something, withholding the facts until Stanford practically begged for the information. As soon as Laurie stopped speaking, Stanford gasped, then sighed. For a moment Laurie wondered if he had strung out his lover too far. Then Stan began to smile, then chortle. He stopped himself before a belly laugh could emerge, in part Laurie realized, that Stanford was trying to ascertain how far along was Lynne. Then Stanford cleared his throat, asking Laurie that very question, albeit it in a circuitous manner. Laurie was blunt, trying to keep his voice even. Yet he wanted to scream in laughter, for as soon as the words hit Stanford, he leaned away from Laurie, flopping into the center of the bed. Laurie restrained himself from full-on hilarity, but did manage to soothe Stanford's mind, that if nothing else it was probably the last baby to be conceived within their home.

Both Laurie and Stanford had to work on Wednesday and as all had guessed, Stanford made an early exit. Lynne slept late, waking even after Laurie had left, but the Snyders were spending that day with Stanford's father, who didn't inquire about the dark circles under Lynne's eyes. Michael was too enchanted with Jane, who flirted shamelessly as the foursome walked through Central Park on a rather warm spring day. They had lunch at Michael's home, where he apologized for not having hosted them overnight during their stay. Eric noted how glad they were that Jane was mostly good humored what with all this bustling about. Then Michael smiled, recalling that the trio still had one more trek to Brooklyn tomorrow. Michael's eyes twinkled, which made Eric and Lynne chuckle. But the Snyders were unaware of Michael's exact meaning. Even he knew of the friction between Wilma, Rose, and a certain chocolate cake.

The Snyders left Michael with the relief that they hadn't needed to explain Lynne's fatigue. They arrived back at Stanford and Laurie's, where promptly Lynne went to nap. Jane was harder to convince, but finally she too fell asleep. That left Eric with some free time, during which he sketched Agatha in the kitchen, at her insistence. Then she smiled slyly; she hoped that sometime before Eric left he could get Stanford and Laurie to pose.

Eric admitted he wished for the same and Agatha laughed. "Leave this out for them. Stanford will ask about it and you can explain. Or if he asks while I'm here, I'll just tell him you got bored and pestered me."

"He might ask, better to talk art than about Lynne." Eric smiled, then gazed at the drawing. Agatha looked little like her Queens' counterpart, her bearing so formal. Also motherly, but from a distance. Yet he'd sensed no difference in how she treated them, why had he depicted her reserve within the sketch? Maybe only to cause Stanford to pay attention, or maybe.... Maybe it was Agatha to purposely make the distinction. Eric studied her, that uniform not all that dissimilar to what she'd worn last week at home. Skirts and buttoned-up blouses, although her shoes had been brown, not black, her hose the same. She had often donned an apron, but it wasn't white, usually brightly colored. Here she seemed regal, where in Queens, while in charge, she wasn't so stiff. Then Eric shook his head. Stiff wasn't the word. Here in this apartment she was....

The boss, and Eric wanted to chuckle. In Queens, while Donald was a quiet man, he was clearly the head of the family, no matter how loudly Agatha might bark. Within this household, although she was an employee, she was also the chief cook and bottle washer, what Sam would say, but there was nothing demeaning about that role. Without Agatha, Stan and Laurie's world would no longer hold together.

Did the men realize that, Eric wondered. He gazed at Agatha, who wore a knowing smile. She certainly did and now he laughed out loud. Yet, Agatha wouldn't press Stanford to pose for his client. She simply had permitted Eric to sketch her in a manner that outwardly presumed her place within this residence as that of a domestic. Now Eric felt subdued; it would take this subtle yet powerful woman to get Stanford to let down his guard, for other than Laurie and Michael, only Agatha had fully permeated Stanford's thick shell.

When it came to the art dealer, Eric didn't discount where he, Lynne, Jane, and of course the coming baby stood. They had all crawled under Stanford's skin, much to his chagrin. But Stanford still was wary around them, why he'd left for work so early that morning. Eric wasn't bothered, only intrigued. He couldn't wait to see how Stanford approached any of them when he came home, not to mention how he behaved tomorrow in Brooklyn.

Yet, Eric could almost predict how that trip would proceed. The taxi ride would be a mostly chatty affair, only Stanford offering little discourse. Once at Wilma's, Stanford would deftly lead Eric to a quiet corner where they would talk about work. On the way home, Stanford would continue that discussion while Lynne and Laurie recounted all sorts of Gordon gossip. Seth wouldn't predominate that conversation, Eric smiled. It would center on a bevy of women not all that dissimilar from the ladies in Queens.

"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?" Agatha asked.

Eric laughed. "Was just thinking about that trip, and yup, I am. Will probably talk a lot of shop with my dealer."

Agatha turned to face Eric, a smile on her face. "Indeed you will." She returned to stirring the pot of soup on the stove. "I wonder what Mrs. Gordon will make, for dessert, you know."

"Well, if it's anything like that coconut cake Laurie's mother baked, good grief. I've put on ten pounds during this vacation."

Agatha had a gentle laugh. "Sometimes Laurie brings home slices of a rather delicious chocolate cake. Maybe she'll fix that for you folks."

"Well if she does, I'll let you know. Should we try to finagle one for you?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. There's still half a sweet potato pie from yesterday."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, I can't wait to see what Marek thinks of that creation. He adores Lynne's pumpkin, but I think sweet potato might become his new favorite."

Agatha turned around, a warm grin on her face. "You do let me know what he thinks of it. I am curious."

"I'll do that and while I'm not a betting man, I wouldn't be surprised if you received a thank-you note from him."

Agatha chuckled. "You just tell me what sort of sweet Mrs. Gordon fixes for you all and I'll let you know if I hear from your pastor."

"Agreed," Eric smiled, sipping his coffee.

That night Stanford gave Eric and Lynne his congratulations, but it wasn't until nearly the close of the evening when he allowed himself to fully express his excitement, which was still hedged in what Eric felt was disbelief. The Snyders discussed it briefly before Lynne fell asleep. Maybe Stanford never imagined any sort of procreation could take place within his home.

On Thursday morning, there was nowhere for Stanford to escape; he, Laurie, and the Snyders would eat lunch in Brooklyn and wouldn't be back until late, what Stanford assumed. Agatha wasn't staying in Manhattan all day; she would leave as soon as the rest had departed. If anyone was hungry later, leftovers remained in the refrigerator. Stanford would let Laurie and Eric manage the reheating.

As for Lynne.... Stanford wanted to give her the appropriate compliments, yet he felt somewhat strangled. He wished to speak to Dr. Walsh about it, but truthfully, what would he say to his shrink? Yes, Stanford felt quite awkward that Eric and Lynne had probably gotten pregnant there in Manhattan, that was certainly more information than Stanford had needed. But what business was it of his, in that they were adults and this sort of thing happened between men and women and.... And there was where Stanford wished to wriggle from his skin, which then angered him. What difference did it make, and how many nude paintings of Lynne had Stanford admired, and of course the Snyders had wanted to add to their family and.... And he so badly wished to walk to Lynne, grasp her hand, look her in the eyes and tell her how pleased he was for her. And Stanford was pleased; Lynne was a wonderful mother, she made Eric very happy. So then why was he being so damn reticent about sharing in their joy?

He had considered it at work yesterday, finding himself alternately wanting to tell Miss Harold, then recoiling at sharing such intimate news with his secretary. Emily knew the Snyders were still in New York, yet as far as she understood, Stanford was merely allowing them to stay at his home as if they were too poor to get a hotel. But of course Emily knew that wasn't the case, yet she never inquired why the Snyders had chosen such a lengthy sojourn east, nor the reason the couple was still at Stanford's. But it wasn't only a couple; there was Jane, and now another baby. Stanford looked over at Laurie, sitting across from him at the kitchen table; it was only them and Agatha at the moment. Jane's empty high chair waited in the far corner, the Snyders were still sleeping. Or maybe Eric was getting up with Jane, allowing his wife to rest. Stanford glanced at the clock; it was nearly a quarter after seven. Wasn't Jane hungry, he wondered.

Yet Agatha said nothing and Laurie was quiet. The Snyders' news had brought peace to Laurie's mind, for which Stanford was grateful. And of course Agatha was thrilled. Michael wasn't yet aware, but when he learned, and then Stanford shuddered. Now he knew why he was so flustered, and he felt even more unease, although it wasn't connected to Lynne. Stanford stared at Laurie until he made eye contact. All Stanford had to do was stand from his chair. Laurie did the same, neither saying a word to Agatha.

At first Stanford nearly blurted his reservations just beyond the closed kitchen door. Then he paused, motioning for Laurie to follow him to their bedroom. But that was too close to where the Snyders still rested. With a huff, Stanford led his partner into the library, shutting the door behind them.

Stanford never came into this room alone. The figurines were the reason, but he ignored them, instead considering how last night the foursome hadn't shared their usual nightcaps. Lynne had been exhausted and it had been easy for Laurie to insist that Eric escort his wife to bed. Eric returned with Jane, but Stanford had excused himself, leaving Laurie to entertain. When Laurie came to bed, Stanford pretended to be asleep, although Laurie hadn't permitted that ruse to last. With few words they had made love, then Stanford laid awake for a good hour, listening to Laurie's drones. Now he faced that man, who wore a thoughtful gaze.

"Do you wanna talk about this?" Laurie said quietly.

Did Laurie realize the reason, Stanford wondered. The incident, as Stanford now termed it, had happened early in their relationship, maybe Laurie had forgotten. Stanford cleared his throat, then nodded. "You shouldn't have told me yet."

Not this soon, Stanford immediately wished to add, but as soon as he'd spoken, Laurie nodded, then looked at the floor. Then Laurie met Stanford's gaze. "I'm sorry, oh Stan, I didn't even think about...."

Stanford nodded, for he never considered the miscarriage that his sister Louise had suffered many years ago. She and Herb had only been married a few months and they hadn't been able to keep the news to themselves. Michael and Constance had been thrilled at the thought of a first grandchild, also the first for Herb's parents. Louise had been in good health, but those details had been set far back into Stanford's memories; Louise lost her baby with no explanations forthcoming.

Yet, what equally bothered Stanford was how little he had cared at the time. He recalled sitting with his father, although Laurie hadn't accompanied. This news had only been for Stanford, who had taken it without much more than a slight nod, then a sigh. Then he'd offered some pithy sentiments, leaving his father for home, where he'd told Laurie in a similar succinct fashion. Stanford couldn't even remember, the information having made so small of an impression. The next time he saw Louise he had embraced her, probably awkwardly he now mused, also giving to her the same half-hearted apologies. Well over a year later, she gave birth to a son, then subsequently had two daughters. Stanford had attended few of their various activities, but his nephew Robert was in high school and Stanford would probably go to his graduation.

Whether or not Laurie joined him was irrelevant. Stanford barely knew his nephew, or his nieces, any of them. He never sent them birthday cards, nor did he receive any, other than those from his sisters. Not that Laurie was especially close to his nieces and nephews, but often Laurie trekked to Brooklyn for this or that activity. Not for any of the Gordon women of course, just his three sisters, to whom he was quite close. All three would be at the Gordon home today, making for a clucking group of hens. Then Stanford shivered. Were Eric and Lynne planning to share their news?

"They're not going to say anything today, are they?" Stanford asked.

"I can't imagine they would. My God Stan, I feel so dumb. I didn't even think about Louise and Herb."

Stanford sighed again. "Neither did I until just this morning."

As Stanford spoke, that odd heaviness was lifted from his shoulders. Now he trembled and Laurie led him to the sofa. Stanford was grateful, for his legs wobbled beneath him. Suddenly a warm joy bubbled in Stanford's chest, yet slight guilt still lurked within him. He did care more about Lynne than any of his sisters, but maybe that wasn't overly surprising. Who Stanford had been years ago wasn't anything like the person he was now.

Most of that was due to the man beside him; how much had loving Laurie changed Stanford? Yet, not all those alterations were Laurie's doing, and again Stanford felt uncomfortable. But he didn't need to explain that to Laurie; he had already pointed it out, and rather plainly, months before. Eric, Lynne, and Jane mattered to Stanford, and now one other would be thrown into that mix, or hopefully that baby would arrive safely. Stanford closed his eyes, offering a prayer similar to the one he'd said during the Missile Crisis. When he opened his eyes, Laurie's were misty. "What?" Stanford said abruptly. "Is there something wrong?"

Laurie nodded, making Stanford sick to his stomach. But quickly that nausea passed, although Stanford's heart did feel twisted; Laurie noted that Eric and Lynne had yet to inform the Aherns. As Laurie explained why, Stanford stood, no longer feeling weakened. He walked toward the figurines, then stared at the woman. For the first time, Stanford didn't see Lynne as that statue. It was Renee Ahern pleading with God.

That night, Stanford held Jane while the other adults fixed the evening meal. Jane was fussy, but Stanford wasn't bothered. He found Eric often glancing his way as if checking on the dealer, but Stanford would shake his head, then place the whiny baby over his other shoulder. Jane quieted, maybe due to Stanford's newfound role. Then just as he felt competent, she started to fret. He clucked to himself, then walked from the kitchen, but didn't relinquish the infant in his care.

Jane still grumbled, but Stanford bobbed her up and down, thinking about all that had occurred at Wilma's. Now Eric and Lynne understood the great cake war, as Eric had termed it in the taxi coming home. Both Stanford and Laurie were surprised at how Eric had been forewarned by Agatha, although her caution had been mild, or at least Eric hadn't been prepared for what one recipe meant within Laurie's family. Now Stanford smiled; Agatha could be sneaky and he wondered what Eric might tell her tomorrow. Stanford had a full agenda at the office, but what he would give to hear that conversation.

Maybe Agatha would get to work early, or Jane would rouse her father from bed before Stanford left. He chuckled, which made Jane stop crying. He stared at her, those blue eyes looking drowsy, but still the same hue as Sam Ahern's. Stanford felt a chill considering that man, but Jane's small grin eased Stanford's heart. "There's so much in this world you have no idea about," Stanford said. "I wonder if that's better than what we all know."

Jane blinked, but didn't fuss. Then she yawned, laying her head on Stanford's shoulder. He walked slowly, then saw Eric head his way. Now Stanford smiled, even with Eric's sly grin. The art dealer had talked plenty of shop with his client, but Stanford had also given Lynne a strong hug upon their return from Brooklyn. He would never tell either Snyder about Louise's loss, but maybe one day Stanford might find a way to apologize to his sister. Or maybe, Stanford mused, the past didn't matter anymore.

"Is it time to eat?" Stanford asked. "Or are you here to relieve me?"

"It's just about suppertime," Eric said. "And I can take the girl if you want."

"It's all right, she seems placated." Stanford felt a deep truth uttered in that statement. Then he sighed. "Eric, I am very happy for you and Lynne."

Eric chuckled, then took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "It was hard not saying anything to Rose and Wilma today. But Laurie can tell them in a couple of months. In the meantime, they can battle it out over that cake recipe." Then Eric laughed. "I can't wait to talk to Agatha in the morning."

Stanford grinned. "Yes, there is that bone of contention. The recipe will probably go with Wilma to her grave."

"Somehow I don't see her passing it to her daughters. Maybe she could be persuaded to give it to Agatha though, for your and Laurie's benefit."

Now Stanford laughed, but softly, as not to wake the baby. Then he cleared his throat. "Eric, Laurie told me about the Aherns." Stanford paused; there was much attached to that subject, but little else for Stanford to say.

"I thought he might. Not much Lynne and I can do about it, and to be honest, I'm not looking forward to how they'll take the news."

Stanford nodded. "I suppose you'll tell them when you get home."

"Yeah, after Lynne sees her doctor. Stan, I do apologize, I mean...." Eric's tone grew somber. "It's still very early, I mean, well...."

As Stanford reached for Eric's hand, Jane stirred. But Eric completed the action, gripping Stanford's outstretched hand. Then Eric released Stanford, but he didn't step away. "It'll be whatever it's supposed to be," Eric said. He caught Stanford's gaze, then motioned toward the kitchen. "I think Laurie wants to eat in there. He was setting the table when I left."

Stanford nodded, wondering if Eric could read minds. Somehow Stanford felt that Eric knew about Louise's loss, maybe Eric even understood how long it had taken Stanford to put two and two together. Or maybe Stanford permitted him too much knowledge. Yet, in how Eric nodded at him, perhaps that man was psychic as well as a brilliant painter.

But even with such gifts, Eric's hands were still tied. Following Eric to the kitchen, Stanford wondered how Sam and Renee would react to the Snyders' news. As Eric took Jane from Stanford's shoulder, Stanford smiled at Lynne, already seated at the table. Laurie was serving, and Stanford sat beside a tired but happy woman. As Lynne took a deep breath, Stanford squeezed her hand. She laughed as she exhaled, stirring within Stanford a welcome peace. These people were now part of him and one more was on the way.
Chapter 105

On Friday morning Lynne woke alone, Eric's side of the bed cool. She smiled, then grimaced, as nausea rolled through her. Then she giggled. This time, very little was unknown about pregnancy.

She got out of bed, put on her robe, then padded to the guest bathroom. The days had been so busy since Agatha asked if she was all right; how quickly had their last week of vacation gone, Lynne mused, as she didn't throw up, but certainly felt unwell. And how differently was this confinement starting, in so many manners. She did wonder if she was carrying a boy for how rapidly she had fallen ill, or maybe her subconscious had been a powerful factor when Jane was in this state. Back then Lynne had never fathomed becoming pregnant. That concrete likelihood now altered a mother's psyche as well as her body.

Lynne was eager to call Dr. Salters when they got home, but Lynne wasn't at all excited about telling the Aherns. However, that anxiety was swept aside when she thought of informing Marek and Frannie. Then Lynne sighed, for how would Sam and Renee take this news? Then Lynne shuddered as she stepped from the bathroom, staring at the space where she and Eric had most likely conceived their second child. Never before had Lynne considered the Aherns as Sam and Renee. A wave of tears fell from Lynne's eyes, hormones she permitted, alongside the sorrow of having lost contact with her best friend.

Lynne joined those in the kitchen; Stanford was gone as Lynne had imagined, but Laurie loitered, and he hugged her warmly, then offered his goodbye. Lynne smiled, pleased that he had waited for her, but while they shared a strong bond, it wasn't the same as what she had known with Renee. Then Lynne gazed at Agatha; even that woman couldn't take Renee's place. As Agatha brought juice to Lynne, Lynne smiled widely. Agatha gripped her shoulder, then gently brushed stray hairs from Lynne's face. Agatha was like a mother, for which Lynne was grateful.

Eric tended to Jane, who was wholly unaware of all the changes. She seemed at home in this Manhattan apartment among those who adored her. Would Jane find urban life her calling? It had been where her parents were raised, in different cities of course, but similar settings, then Lynne frowned. Eric had grown up in poverty, Lynne's parents upper middle class. Jane would never want for anything, but she seemed flexible, then Lynne laughed. Jane was thirteen months old, she wouldn't even be two when a sibling arrived. Tears again fell down Lynne's cheeks and she glanced at her husband. Another baby was coming and how fantastic was that blessing.

As Lynne wiped her face, Eric assisted, smiling as he did so. Then he grasped her hand; they hadn't spoken much about the baby, but tender love had been made, and Lynne was ready to be within her own domain, although having meals fixed was a treat. Agatha set a plate of pancakes in front of Lynne and Eric released his wife's hand. Then to Lynne's joy, Agatha took a seat on Jane's other side, like she was that girl's grandmother. Then Lynne began to cry in earnest; how had she and Eric inherited all these relatives?

Only Jane noticed her mother's tears and the little girl began to squawk. "You leave your mama alone," Agatha said. "Gonna be more of that before it's all over."

"Indeed," Lynne laughed, wiping her face. She took a deep breath, then exhaled, shaking her head. "Poor girl's not gonna know which end's up."

"She'll make do." Agatha smiled, then motioned to Lynne's breakfast. "But you eat before it gets cold."

Now Eric chuckled while Lynne smiled, forking herself a bite of the delicious pancakes. Even the coffee smelled good, but she stuck to juice, as Agatha told Jane that she was going to have to share her mother. Lynne closed her eyes, again inhaling deeply. These warm moments would be recalled to buffer the solitary times that were waiting at home.

Mother and daughter took a bath, then the Snyders went for a walk. Eric said that Stanford had finally mentioned the sketch of Agatha in uniform, the dealer trying to remain detached, but Stanford was clearly puzzled. Keeping his own voice flat, Eric said it had been Agatha's idea. This had been before Laurie joined them and while Agatha had stepped away from the kitchen. Then Lynne asked how early father and daughter had been up. Eric smiled. "She was awake at six, but just laid in her bed, making little noises. At seven, we got up. I needed the coffee."

Lynne nodded, then gazed at the busy traffic. They could have gone into the park, but this wasn't meant to be a long outing. Laurie was coming home for lunch, with only one appointment left for his day. "Has Laurie said anything about the sketch?" Lynne asked her husband.

"He doesn't need to. Stan's the one who needs convincing."

"Do you think he'll say yes?"

Eric shrugged. "I think he'd like to, but...." Eric pulled the stroller next to a building, allowing passersby to get around them. "He's had a lot to take in over the last four weeks." Then Eric smiled. "I'll just leave that sketch here, let him mull it over. Unless he says differently," Eric added. "Truthfully, it could go either way."

Lynne nodded. "Well, you have plenty to keep you busy when we get home."

"Oh yes I do." Eric kissed her, then deftly set his hand on her belly. "If Sam's up for posing, terrific. If not, I've got more work than what time will allow."

Lynne shivered, but not from the April breeze. Spring in New York had been pleasant, but now she desired their western climate. Or maybe just their property. Eric would use the studio to create his series based on their stay in Queens, but how many paintings would commence in the sunroom while Jane napped in the nursery?

For all the traffic and people in the most bustling metropolis on the planet, right then Lynne felt it was simply her husband, baby, and herself. Eric stood close to her, Jane in the stroller between them. Then a rush of mild nausea made Lynne inhale sharply, also rousing her smile. Tears followed, which stirred her giggle. She hadn't been so soppy with Jane, but uncertainty had held her back. This time only joy would reign.

She didn't think about whether or not Stanford would permit Eric to sketch him and Laurie, she didn't ponder the Aherns. Here she was in New York City with all the family she needed. Eric whispered that sentiment, making his wife laugh. Lynne nodded, then prayed. Then she kissed her husband on the mouth, feeling no shame at all.

As the Snyders shared lunch with Laurie and Agatha, Sam Ahern had breakfast with his father. Joe had started coming over in the mornings while Renee worked half days. The last two nights Joe and Marjorie both had visited, but that evening it would only be Sam and Renee. Sam had told his folks to come over on Saturday night, that maybe Sam might be up to cooking. But he didn't want his parents there when Renee came home. That day Renee was stopping at the Snyders to check the mail as Ted had a funeral over which to preside and Henry was busy.

Sam had nearly asked his dad to drive to the Snyders', but then an excuse would be required, and Sam didn't have the energy or desire to lie to his parents. For the last two weeks, Ted and Henry had fulfilled Sam's housesitting duties, leaving Renee free to concentrate on her recovering husband. None of the Aherns had questioned that, but they might have raised eyebrows if Joe had to drive across town when Renee worked only a few minutes from where the Snyders lived. And all Renee had to do was pick up the mail; Ted had checked the plants yesterday, Henry having stopped there the day before that. Sam wondered if Eric would even have time to paint Sam's portrait what with all the correspondence which had accumulated. Maybe it wouldn't be until summer that Sam would have to bite that bullet.

But he did feel badly that Renee was standing in for him today, although he said nothing of the sort to his dad. Joe only wanted to talk baseball, for which Sam was relieved. The men discussed if Carl Yastrzemski would pick up where Ted Williams had left off, but neither man spoke of their team winning the pennant. A record of seven and six that month wasn't a bad start, but The Curse of the Bambino had haunted Boston for so long, a winning season was too much to contemplate.

Sam had fixed that morning's eggs and toast, and his appetite was returning. For the last few nights, his parents had brought supper, and enough leftovers waited in the refrigerator that all Renee would have to do is reheat their meal on the stove. Then Sam grimaced; he might handle that task depending on her mood. But he hadn't asked her to actually step foot inside the Snyders' front gate. All she had to do was....

A chill traveled up Sam's back, how long since Renee had even been at Eric's house? A few months, which made Sam inwardly tremble. He understood his wife's trepidation, for he'd suffered the same when Eric was gone all those weeks in 1960. Sam shook his head. Then he gazed at his father, who wore a quizzical face. "Something wrong son?" Joe said softly.

Sam sighed, then smiled. "Just thinking about Yastrzemski. Maybe he'll have a good year."

Joe chuckled, then sat back in his chair. "Well, he's got big shoes to fill. Nobody's as good a hitter as Williams."

Sam considered a few other players with that sort of talent, although none of them were on the Red Sox, he smiled inwardly. "Yup, he's in a class all by himself."

The conversation continued, even if both men had finished their meals. At ten thirty, Joe made his excuses and Sam walked outside with his dad, the day pleasant. Sam had spent most of the last two weeks indoors, and the sunshine felt good on his face. He took stock of the front yard; Henry had mowed a few days back, the flowerbeds were vibrant. Trees along the street were getting leafy, the scent of new life heady. Sam chuckled, he couldn't help it. He'd felt so miserable and was still a little weak. Whatever had hit him had certainly done its job, but he pondered the reason for that illness. Maybe to reaffirm familial ties with relatives he didn't see as much as others; Joanie had come by a few days ago, now assured that Sam wasn't contagious. Fran had offered, but Sam had said he'd see her soon enough. Better that Helene wasn't around Renee.

As Joe got in his car, Sam had to concentrate on the clipped green grass, inhaling deeply for any lasting fragrance of Henry's handiwork. There was none, but Eric would have plenty to do at his place. Sam waved at his father, who had no idea of all that Sam had meant to accomplish; it wasn't merely about collecting the mail. But Sam hadn't let Henry or Ted use Eric's lawnmower, enough that they had kept the indoor plants alive. Eric had specifically told Sam not to worry about that aspect, to just take care of himself. And Sam had done that, yet he fretted. He was feeling better, but Renee's mood later on was another matter.

At four thirty, Renee said goodnight to Vivian. Vivian wished her a happy weekend and Renee smiled, then quickly offered the same. Then Renee headed to the back office door. The Bel-Air waited and she hurried to the vehicle, wishing to run this errand as fast as possible.

She had been so grateful to Ted and Henry, never wondering if Sam had needed to give any excuse other than she was torn between caring for her husband and patients at work. Neither man, when she saw them, had raised their eyebrows at her, so Renee felt her secret was safe. Not even Marek Jagucki had hinted at any possible motive for Sam's brothers to check on the Snyders' home. His visit on Tuesday had been most enjoyable, making Renee nearly forget that she had ever confided him in before.

As she drove to the Snyders, Renee mulled over how her appointments with Marek had gone; she had said very little, except at the end. Her choice to discontinue their sessions had never been up for debate; Marek had accepted it with little fanfare, or at least outwardly he had raised no argument. On Tuesday, Sam had been the pastor's concern and Renee had stepped away from the conversation a few times, letting the men speak privately. She never later asked Sam about what she had missed, it had simply been a social call, just as Father Markham had then visited yesterday afternoon, offering Sam communion. Maybe that wasn't as social as Marek's visit, but priests and pastors ministered to their flocks as was necessary.

Suddenly Renee found herself driving right past the Snyders' home. She sighed, then turned around, parking near the front gate. She got out of the car, walked to the mailbox, but to her surprise found very few letters. Ted and Henry both had noted the volumes of correspondence, which then Renee found stacked upon her coffee table. The stamps had always caught her attention, images and languages novel to her eyes. That day three envelopes waited and she huffed; they could have sat there for tomorrow when Ted would have collected them.

She closed the mailbox, then started back for her car. She'd driven the Chevy every day, as Sam felt it was wasteful for it to sit in the driveway. Renee had started to think of the new car as hers, which eased her mood. She stood beside it, admiring the lines, considering how much fun it was to handle. Driving the extra distance had actually been better than she'd imagined. Caught up in her thoughts, she'd passed right by Lynne's house, then Renee began to shake. She gazed at the front gate; no one waited for Renee to come through, as though nothing existed past the walls.

That was how Renee had decided to envision being here, if it had come to pass. And now that it had, she wondered if the strength of her imagination had erased the Snyders from existence. She smiled at herself, then again she trembled. Strange things happened behind this barrier. Stepping toward the front gate, Renee wondered if perhaps that large home had indeed disappeared.

She didn't ponder the impossibility of that idea, too lost in the wonder of where she stood. She was one foot away from entering a world that allowed the most unnatural events and she didn't only consider Eric turning into a hawk. Behind this wall two men had shared the same bedroom. Past this barricade Renee had received a namesake. That made her heart ache and she shut her eyes tightly. Then she opened them, finding crumpled letters within her hand. She berated herself, then quickly walked back to the car. Stinging tears fell along her cheeks and she gazed at the postmarks, but couldn't make out from where these had been sent. Yet now they were in poor shape. If more had arrived, Renee would have set them in the car, then driven away. How would she explain to Sam why they looked like she'd dropped them on the ground and driven over them?

She grew angry, then inhaled, a plan forming. If she took them inside, she could lay them under one of the stacks heaped on the table. Even though the Snyders were flying back on Sunday, it would be ages before Eric found these, and maybe they would have been pressed flat under the weight of so much correspondence. But Renee's scheme hinged upon one enormous detail; she would have to walk through the front gate to reach the dining table inside the house.

Staring at the wrinkled letters, she prayed for guidance. Tapping her foot, she glanced at her car, then at the envelopes, then back to the car. Then she stared at that front gate. It was just a wooden gate, nothing scary about it. Clucking loudly, she marched straight for it. Ignoring her pounding heart, Renee pulled on the latch, then swung open the door. She blinked, and before she knew it, there stood the Snyders' house. Renee took a deep breath, then let out it quickly. Sam had affixed Eric's spare key to her ring last night. Renee shoved her hand into her pocket, removing her keys. They felt as if a leaden weight had instead been attached.

She hadn't planned on using these keys, then she scowled at the crumpled letters; Sam hadn't imagined he'd get so sick. Renee strode toward the front door, then stopped abruptly; the kitchen was too personal. Better to use the key for the French doors, if it worked, she allowed.

She got halfway around the house, then again she paused. She didn't want to see that one glass pane. But before she could turn around, a host of brightly colored tulips caught her eye. She stared at the varied hues, waving in a soft breeze. Beyond those bulbs stood the fountain, but no water bubbled. Eric's studio waited past that, his storage building to the right. Then Renee scanned the rest of the garden; clumpy sod had sprouted grass, the small lawn needed trimming. Boysenberries vines were leafy, as were trees, the whole scene like something out of The Secret Garden. But it wasn't the plants to hold the mystery, making Renee blink away tears.

Promptly she turned around, walking stiffly to the kitchen door. She opened it, not looking at the bare counters or table, marching into the dining room, where hordes of letters waited. Renee drew in a sharp breath; she hadn't been prepared for this much mail. She exhaled, relieved for tall stacks under which she could carefully slide the crumpled notes. She spied one pile with some rather large manila folders at the bottom. Renee slipped her letters underneath those folders, then stood back, making certain nothing toppled over.

Quickly she turned around, not wishing to see anything else. As she headed into the kitchen, she couldn't help but scan the counters, just to make sure nothing was amiss. A note in the center of the table caught her gaze. She stepped toward it, finding the handwriting wasn't Sam's. It looked like Ted's, and she peered more closely to confirm.

She nodded, it was from her brother-in-law, and said nothing more than Welcome Home. He had signed it Father Ted, making Renee giggle. She assumed Sam had let Eric know that his brothers were handling things and Ted had thought to offer Eric a small greeting. Then Renee whipped around as if someone was right behind her. All she saw was Jane's high chair, set aside in the corner of the room.

Renee closed her eyes; for all the oddities this house permitted, that was the strangest piece. It wasn't simply Eric and.... Lynne and Jane's names beat in Renee's heart, then hammered against her brain. All those letters were addressed to Eric, but he didn't live here alone like some recluse, although one could wonder what with the tall walls. But those were to protect this family, hedging them in like a tangle of boysenberry vines. Renee shivered, then gazed back at Ted's note. Welcome home, it read. The Snyders were returning, and soon. In two days, Renee knew. Two more days and....

She peeked around the corner of the kitchen doorway; those wrinkled letters wouldn't benefit from where Renee had placed them, but maybe Eric would have the good sense to not question why they were creased. He might assume it was the postman's fault, maybe they'd been damaged coming from overseas. Eric would have too many other things to think about, like mowing the lawn or answering all those notes or painting Sam's.... Renee frowned, then stepped to where letters were piled. Eric wouldn't get to Sam's portrait for a while. And that was good; Sam was still recovering. He didn't need to pose for....

Carefully Renee gripped the side of the table; she didn't want to disturb the stacks. If Sam posed for Eric, then Renee would have to.... But Sam had never said that, he'd never said any more to her than it was time. What exactly was it time for, or who, Renee then mused. She cracked her knuckles, then stared into the room, which opened up directly to the living room. Which through the far doorway led to the sunroom, from which bright light shone.

As if she was being beckoned from afar, Renee started walking toward the light. Her steps were slow, but not altogether unhindered. Yet she didn't look at the furnishings, only to where light seemed to spill out like the sun blazed from that area of the house. As she reached the fireplace and sofa, she paused, having peered in that direction, as if assuring herself indeed this was a home with which she was familiar. But the light was so stunning, Renee needed that touchstone. As she took in those items, she blinked, her heart beating so hard, she wondered if anyone else could hear it. But there was nobody else; Renee was alone, although she pondered that point too. Was there truly no other soul to witness how bright was this light?

She gazed into the sunroom doorway, squinting as she did so. Then she saw the reason; afternoon light was bouncing off the studio, directly into this space. She closed her eyes, then reopened them, amazed at the trajectory; did this hinder Eric when he painted? Then she was curious; she'd been here plenty of times, yet had never noticed how the light played off one building onto the main house. She gazed around the sunroom, empty except for collected dust. Lynne would have plenty of cleaning to do next week, Renee smiled, while Eric read the mail.

Renee turned around, finding how dark the rest of the home seemed. Her eyes had become so accustomed to the light, it took several seconds for the rest of the house to appear as she expected. Yet, toys caught her attention, books and blocks and a few dolls, then she wondered how many new playthings would litter this home, all that Jane brought back from New York. Had Laurie taken Jane to that big toy store, and what about Stanford's cook and Michael Taylor and.... So many others now crowded out Renee, but that was for the best. She didn't need another godchild, she didn't need....

Light poured into the living room, swiftly moving past Renee, flooding the entire residence. But it wasn't merely light; heat followed the brightness, swirling around Renee's ankles, wafting upwards to her waist, her bust, her neckline. Then she was covered by warmth radiating from behind her, yet encompassing past her. If she moved forward, she knew that heat would also be there.

Instead she closed her eyes, remaining still. She prayed, asking God that if this was her time to go, to please let Sam know so that the next person to check on the house wouldn't find a decomposing body in the middle of the Snyders' living room. Maybe Ted would be best, he was a priest after all. But the warmth began to dissipate as she finished her petition, and by the time Renee opened her eyes, the light was gone, the heat along with it. Then she turned around; the sunroom looked as it always did, albeit in need of a good cleaning.

It took several rings for Renee to reach the Snyders' telephone. "Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Renee, thank God!"

"Oh Sam, I'm sorry." She glanced at the wall clock; it was after six. "Oh honey, I've, uh, been cleaning." Renee hadn't even checked the time when she came in here for a broom and dustpan. "The sunroom was so messy, I didn't want them coming back to such a disaster."

"Well, thank goodness you're all right." Sam spoke slowly. Then he had a deep sigh. "So, are you coming home soon?"

Renee gazed at the kitchen floor, in need of mopping. "Yeah, I guess. There's still plenty of work over here though."

"Listen, we'll get to it tomorrow. I've started supper, aren't you hungry?"

Her stomach rumbled as he spoke, which made her smile. "Well, now that you mention it. I just need to put away the broom." And the dustpan and rags, she considered.

"Just leave all that for tonight Renee."

Sam's tone was plaintive and Renee nodded as if he stood in front of her. "Okay, sure. But I am coming over here tomorrow. Your brothers weren't very careful in cleaning off their shoes before they came inside."

"Yeah, sure. But drive safely, all right?"

"I will. I'll be home in about twenty minutes."

Sam sighed. "Okay. I love you honey."

"Love you too Sam. Bye."

Before he could answer, Renee hung up the receiver. Quickly she returned to the sunroom, sweeping up the piles, then dumping those into the garbage. Then she collected the dusty rags, setting them in the laundry room. She grabbed her keys from her pocket, then headed to the kitchen door. She locked it behind her, but dusk was falling. She would need to turn on the headlights to get home.

She went through the front gate, pulling it closed tightly. She walked around the car, but found she hadn't locked it. Yet, she'd taken the mail inside, and her purse was safe on the floorboard. She got in the driver's seat, inserted the key, starting the engine. She turned on the headlights, then gripped the wheel. Right before she pulled away, she glanced toward the gate. She could barely make it out now, darkness falling all around her. Had she actually stepped through that gate, she must have, for now it was night. Then she remembered that warmth, the light, and all that dust. She'd have to come back; no way could she let Lynne find all that accumulated dust. It would make Jane sneeze and.... Renee grasped the steering wheel with all her might. Taking a deep breath, she let it out as she drove away. The Snyders wouldn't be home until Sunday. Renee had one day remaining, then she'd never set foot inside that property again.
Chapter 106

Sitting on the side of the guest bed, Lynne sighed; their suitcases were stuffed, but toys Laurie had bought Jane at FAO Schwarz, plus gifts from Agatha and Michael, remained on the mattress. They would need another piece of luggage to get all of this home, making Lynne smile. Laurie had offered one of their cases, and from the looks of it, the Snyders would call in that favor.

The flight was at ten tomorrow morning, but heading west, they would arrive home in time for a late lunch. Eric had booked them in first class, which originally Lynne had thought was ostentatious. Now she was relieved for the better service they would receive, or at least more comfortable seats. She had slept poorly last night, dreaming of a terrible fight with Renee. After breakfast Lynne had told Eric about it, mostly because he'd pestered her. Laurie and Stanford hadn't noticed her glum mood, or maybe they had, or perhaps only Laurie. Yet, they had chatted like this was their usual weekend routine, although it had been a little strange without Agatha. That woman's calming touch was missed by Lynne as she'd eaten cereal and a banana, then she giggled. All three men had complained about the mediocre coffee, even Laurie, who had made it.

Lynne didn't know when she would see Agatha again, although that woman claimed that having never flown on an airplane, perhaps it was time to give it a try. Lynne would love to host Agatha and whoever traveled with her, maybe her husband, probably her sister. Either way there was a perfect guest room, and Laurie was already making noises about visiting that summer. While the New Yorkers would spend their end of year holidays at home, in January they would be eager to meet the new addition. Lynne had wept at Laurie's statement, but she'd found that nearly anything made her teary. Although, she mused, when she'd stirred from her dream, no tears had been present. The fight with Renee had been awful, and while Lynne couldn't recall what it was about, the tenor reverberated now, hours later. Renee had been furious with Lynne and all Lynne could assume was it had been in response to the coming baby.

A mother placed her hand over that child; if Renee decided their friendship was over, there was little Lynne could do about it. At least she had Fran Canfield, and Sam's sister Joan was very personable. Last night Agatha had made it clear that she would appreciate letters when Lynne had time. And of course that meant snapshots included within the envelopes, just as Lynne sent to Laurie, and consequently to Stanford. Eric probably wrote to his dealer once a month, but Lynne and Laurie exchanged notes weekly, pictures of Jane usually accompanying. Lynne would send different photos to Agatha, who would share them, giving all these East Coasters more glimpses of Lynne's lovely little girl.

That daughter was babbling just outside the door, making Lynne get up as Eric entered their room. "Someone misses her mama," Eric smiled, but he didn't immediately hand over the baby. Jane needed a new diaper, which Lynne detected as soon as her family had stepped close. Lynne grinned, then made her way to the door.

"I'll let you have the honors," she said, feeling a little sick. She hoped that sensation wouldn't last much longer, as she couldn't task Eric with that chore when they got home. He had much to accomplish, what with the Queens' sketches, Sam's portrait, and from what Sam said, sorting through heaps of overseas mail. Lynne reached the doorway, then smiled at her husband, who was trying to find space on the cluttered bed. "I'll go ask Laurie for an extra suitcase while you attend to the girl."

"Sounds like a plan." Eric pushed aside teddy bears and books, then laid Jane on the sheet. He glanced at his wife. "Tell him we might need two pieces of luggage."

"I'll do that, also that it's his fault." She blew kisses toward her husband and daughter, then headed from the room. Stanford and Laurie could be heard in the living room, so Lynne went that direction. She now felt comfortable wandering around this apartment, finding Stanford reading a book while Laurie admired the Queens' drawings. Lynne approached him, scanning the sketches spread out over the coffee table. She wondered where was the one of Agatha done here, but she didn't ask, what with Stanford just feet away. "So Laurie," Lynne began, "we need at least one more suitcase."

He gazed at her and she met his eyes, although she wanted to look back at Eric's dealer, who seemed to be stifling a laugh. Then Laurie smiled. "I'll go see what I can find."

After he walked away, Stanford did chuckle. He set down his book, then stood, meeting Lynne who remained by the coffee table. "I told him he bought too much stuff. He never listens to me."

Lynne nodded, again wishing to study Stanford's face. But his gentle tone relayed a sweet fondness that had emerged over the last month. Then Lynne looked at him; he wore faded trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that had endured many washings. Only his glasses reminded her of the formally dressed businessman; this person was indeed different.

Over the last four weeks, Stanford had toted, and doted upon, Lynne's daughter. He'd laughed even with Jane in his arms and that girl had fallen asleep on his shoulder more than once. How many times had Lynne seen smudges on Stanford's usually spotless spectacles, how often had she heard him crooning? Maybe most of those instances had occurred within the last week, when Lynne, Eric, and Jane had returned with one more in tow. Somehow that coming baby had truly worn away Stanford's impeccable edge. He would retrieve it Monday morning, Lynne was certain, but the next time she saw him might this more relaxed version of Eric's dealer be the norm?

"Well, it was so kind of Laurie to spoil Jane so thoroughly. Agatha too." Then Lynne continued. "You've been such a help with Jane, it's really been wonderful."

While Laurie had purchased the items, it had been unspoken they were also from Stanford. Lynne didn't want him to feel excluded and his willingness to hold Jane hadn't been missed by either her mother or father. Stanford cleared his throat, then nodded, stepping a foot back from where he had been. Then he gazed at the coffee table. "Well, she's been quite well behaved, I must say."

Now Lynne fought a giggle. "She's had her moments. Hopefully she'll be good tomorrow on the plane."

"Mmmhmm," Stanford hummed. Then he sighed. Lynne observed how he stared at the drawings, then crossed his arms over his chest. Was he mulling over possibly posing for Eric, or merely curious as to how Lynne's husband would bring those sketches to life.

Lynne hoped he would paint them as vividly as how he'd captured her as a farm, forest, coral reef.... Endless had been Eric's imagination when she had first posed for him sans clothing. Lynne didn't remember bright hues attached to Agatha's neighborhood, but these pencil drawings screamed for colors, and maybe Lynne might suggest that to her husband. When hawks had been his focus she had steered him toward primary shades. Yet, she remained silent there with Stanford. It was one thing to speak about art with Eric, but with a man who might one day be a model for a painting....

Just how he stood there would be a good start, dressed casually, gazing at his client's work. Lynne rued that she had made Eric change Jane. She should have sent him out to witness a moment that Eric could have indelibly placed within his brain, then later drawn with precision. Yet she'd felt woozy, better for Eric to deal with a messy diaper while Lynne went hunting the man responsible for the need for more luggage. Lynne gazed at where Laurie had gone down the hallway. He'd probably found an extra case, then deposited it in the guest room, where he, Eric, and Jane were now making conversation and perhaps filling that suitcase, or trying to.

Lynne smiled, then peeked at her companion; Stanford was still studying the sketches, his arms crossed, but now his brow was furrowed. Lynne breathed as quietly as possible, never having been alone with Stanford for so long. If only she was an artist, she softly sighed; oh the picture she would paint.

He appeared focused upon all of the drawings together; what piece was holding his attention, or was he even considering the subjects? Maybe he was mulling over if he might ever be featured within an Eric Snyder canvas. Lynne watched as he remained still, barely blinking. Stanford seemed to have forgotten she was there, which didn't offend her. Never had Lynne been given an opportunity to study a most aloof person.

Yet, she had been privileged to see another side to him, even this was new, in how little he said, yet often he was quiet, although never when with just one other person. If Stanford was near someone, there was a reason for that proximity, even if it was merely to soothe Lynne's daughter. Yet Jane couldn't talk back, couldn't observe with the same depth as her mother, and while Eric was indeed the most discerning Snyder, Lynne possessed keen skills when it came to assessing human behavior. All those years as a nurse, she allowed, not to mention her tenure as the wife of a most amazing man.

But Stanford Taylor wasn't a simple sort; his intellect was profound, although slightly cloaked by his detached nature. It wasn't that he was narrow-minded, but that much of his intelligence was dedicated so intently instead of being spread over a broad spectrum. This man knew more about art than, well, then Lynne smiled. Just about all he knew was art. Yet art was a powerful medium and maybe for Stanford art was enough. Art and how to calm a one-year-old, Lynne inwardly chuckled.

Perhaps Eric didn't need to paint Stanford, although Lynne wanted to see Laurie through Eric's vision. Then she frowned slightly; she would love to see the New Yorkers together however Eric thought was best. But maybe that was a dream that Lynne couldn't help but lump alongside wishing her friendship with Renee could return as before. Before made Lynne sigh, which caused Stanford to turn in her direction. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, but tears formed in her eyes. Before she never would have cried around this man, but before he had never seemed so, so.... Stanford was human to Lynne, and it hadn't taken Eric's talent to bring that notion to life. Lynne brushed aside her tears, then smiled. "Just what Eric's gonna deal with for the next several months. A soppy wife, among other things."

Stanford pulled a handkerchief from his pants' pocket. Handing it to Lynne, he wore a funny smile, which immediately brightened her mood. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, then laughed. "Thank you Stanford. You're always prepared."

"Even on weekends," he grinned. Then he gazed again at the coffee table. "Don't tell him I said this, but I am quite intrigued by how this series will play out. Well, I suppose he already knows that, but exactly how he interprets these drawings. I wonder how he'll do it."

"I'd like to see bright colors." Then she smiled. "I urged him to add more vivid tones when he was still painting hawks. They just seemed so drab before."

Stanford stared at her. "I always wondered why he changed the hues." Then the dealer chuckled. "You have more influence on him than I imagined."

"Maybe." She gazed at Stanford. How would Eric interpret this man, the idea making Lynne ache. "I'll tell you this, when I started to model for him, he certainly took me by surprise."

She didn't mean her initial poses and Stanford understood. "Yes, I imagine you were quite startled by that first canvas."

Lynne laughed. "I had no idea what he'd been planning all that time."

Stanford joined her laughter, stepping closer to her. Then Lynne wondered if maybe Eric might paint the New Yorkers in a similarly veiled way. As their loved ones entered the living room, she joined her husband and daughter as Laurie stood by his man. Lynne took Jane, kissing her forehead, while another couple gazed at an artist's handiwork. Eric put his arm around his wife, but the men simply admired the sketches. Lynne leaned against her husband, wondering if he was taking stock. As he nuzzled the back of her head, she smiled. Time would tell how and when he captured Stanford and Laurie, but Lynne was certain they wouldn't avoid Eric's talent forever.
Chapter 107

By late Saturday afternoon two households were being reordered. In New York, nearly all of the Snyders' belongings were tucked in several suitcases, leaving one Manhattan apartment somewhat bereft, not to mention the owners of that residence feeling out of place. Laurie tried not to think how empty his and Stanford's home would be after their guests departed, while Stanford wished Eric would leave behind some of the Queens sketches. And occasionally, Stanford wondered if there might be time for Eric to fashion one more drawing, but an appropriate moment to extend that request never materialized.

In a sleepy West Coast town, Renee and Sam tackled dust and a small amount of gardening, although Renee did most of the work. Renee had been correct, Sam mused while making coffee; his brothers hadn't wiped their feet well, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Sam wondered if Ted and Henry's lack of decorum was intentional, well, maybe on Ted's part. Sam couldn't imagine for what other reason his wife would be in this house, even if the usual occupants were away.

Sam sighed, sitting in Lynne's kitchen, while Renee bustled about outside. Sam had started the mower, although it took a lot from him, in part that it hadn't been run since last fall. And now that he was on his feet, Sam was weary. He wondered exactly when Eric would want to start the painting, then Sam took a sip of luke-warm coffee. He stared at his mug, then smiled, pondering the state of the world in which he found even tepid decaf a necessity.

Maybe it was only within this property that Sam would drink such a beverage. He'd made the pot simply out of habit, although there was no pie to accompany. He gazed around the room, wishing Lynne was there, Eric too, and of course Jane. Sam missed that little girl with a fierce ache; he also missed Frannie's kids, he couldn't wait to feel back to normal. Then he heard Renee come in through the living room French doors. Sam's heart beat irregularly within his chest. As she stepped into the kitchen, he studied her; she wore a kerchief in her hair, one of his old t-shirts, dungarees, and tennis shoes, and she smelled like freshly cut grass. He smiled, finding her so beautiful in such an odd get-up, but she looked stern, like a taskmaster. She was only here under duress.

A terrifying notion rippled through Sam; his wife would never again come to this home, or at least not dressed like usual. He'd never see her here in a nursing uniform, or in one of her pretty dresses, or in casual slacks. Sometimes in summer she wore Capri pants, in winter she like corduroys. But the ensemble she now donned was as though she was the cleaning lady. She poured herself some coffee, took a sip, then made a face. "Goodness, decaf's awful," she said, promptly dumping the contents down Lynne's sink.

While she got herself a glass of water, Sam drank his coffee, which wasn't that bad, although it tasted better hot. He wanted to say that to his wife, but didn't wish to start an argument. He turned her way, then met her gaze. Her eyes looked cold, making him shiver inwardly. His lovely, warmhearted, at times impetuous wife was trapped inside this bitter, angry woman. How in the world could Sam rescue her?

A soldier stood in front of him; Renee had been sent to the front lines as mentally prepared as any man with whom Sam had fought, or those who wanted to get out of that mess with as much of themselves as intact as possible. But sometimes all that rational preparation was lost in the midst of battle, Sam had watched it happen. Occasionally the well-equipped man stumbled as hell swirled around him; how many times had Josh carried an uninjured member of their platoon back to the unit? Those men displayed no outward wounds. They had fought and fought until they could fight no more.

That was Renee, Sam realized, yet he had no expertise in this sort of counseling. And Renee didn't want help; too afraid of again being hurt, she had ended her sessions with Marek, closing off that part of her heart. Yes, she could be here, to clean. Sam stared at how she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, then she would reach for her glass, sipping her water, but as soon as she was done, that cup went to the Formica while Renee again clenched those upper limbs over her chest like a shield.

Faint lines edged her mouth, crows' feet settling around her opaque eyes. Those eyes appeared so aged, like many of the men in Sam's platoon. They had witnessed more mayhem than was good for anyone, but all had been too damn young to properly process the turmoil. It was then slotted away, and some were better at keeping it in than others. Some men had a flair for combat, Sam wouldn't deny that. And some had a gift for how to weave that chaos into their civilian lives. Sam possessed the latter, and he hadn't been a bad soldier. If Josh had lived, Sam guessed he would be much the same, maybe Larry Hudson too. But who knew, Sam mused. Maybe it was better for those men to have died in Korea than to have come home wrecked in different ways.

And what of those attached to soldiers? Could Sam have ever imagined the grief Renee would suffer, of course not. He never would have enlisted if even one iota of her pain had been foreseen. Then Sam trembled; Eric had married Lynne under a similar cloud. Both knew fully well that Eric's life was troubled, yet they hadn't been deterred. They'd been young, Sam permitted, maybe youth was the difference. Sam and Renee had been young too, married already, when Sam swore an oath to his country. But they'd had no idea of what was waiting overseas.

Some of the vets Sam counseled were married, a few were divorced. Some had never found a wife, like Seth. Sam was curious as to how that man was faring in Florida, and he hoped Eric had good news to share. Then Sam wondered if that news would only go as far as himself. Would Renee care, or was she cutting out these people lock, stock, and barrel? Maybe if he asked, then Sam would know just how final was this visit. He cleared his throat, catching her attention. If he said it quickly, her reaction might be all the answer necessary. "So Renee, if Eric knows anything about Seth, shall I tell you?"

Sam looked at her as he spoke, yet his voice was as flat as he could make it. She blinked, staring at her shoes. Then she gazed up as if wanting to meet his eyes. But she couldn't look him in the face. Instead she seemed to focus on the far wall, where Sam imagined one day another table would sit, where Lynne did arts and crafts with Jane and whoever else came along.

The room was silent and Sam kept Renee in his sights. She was breathing, he could tell by how her chest rose, then fell, still well protected by her upper limbs. But now she gripped her forearms and her lip trembled. Sam ached to rush to her side, but he had to stay seated. Yes, this was a test. It was now or never, then Sam fought a smile. Shit or get off the pot Ahern, but for the first time the memory of Josh's admonishment wasn't for Sam.

Renee began to quiver and looked to be fighting tears. Sam wondered if she was waiting for him to embrace her, but something held him back, for no one could pull her over this hurdle. She wasn't like the men Josh had carried back to their foxhole and for that Sam was grateful. Those men had fallen apart so completely, Sam hadn't been sure they would ever put themselves together.

Sam's wife was involved in a different skirmish; Sam felt a chill and he prayed for Renee. This was a war far above Sam's ability to mediate except via divine intercession. And yet it was the most important fight of his life, for what little he could do. Renee's beautiful heart, so long suffering, was being ripped apart by a vicious foe, but God was on the Aherns' side.

Renee remained silent, but now tears fell down her face, making Sam squirm. But as God had demanded Lynne's trust, he now needed Sam's belief. Ironic how a few years ago, Sam had stood in this kitchen, completely incredulous of all that Lynne had claimed. He had considered her an insane liar and had slammed the door in his wake to make certain she knew it. Even after Eric returned, Sam was still skeptical. He had made the overture when Lynne went to retrieve the casserole dishes. But still Sam had thought the worst about her until he witnessed Eric turning into a bird.

What did Renee think about Lynne Snyder? They had been good friends, then were bound by an incredible secret. That link was permanently sealed by one baby's birth, Jane's baptism an added yoke that initially carried no burden. Renee felt guilty about not upholding her role as Jane's godmother, Sam knew. But remorse wouldn't heal Renee's heart; it only added further fuel to an erroneous argument that had been festering within Renee. All of these negative elements were driving Sam's wife farther from those who loved her most. And, Sam admitted with a great deal of relief, he wasn't on top of that list.

The Aherns still attended church, Renee right at Sam's side every week for communion. She went to confession, or said she did, and Sam assumed she never missed it. But the biggest admission was probably hidden deeply within her and it had nothing to do with Lynne or Jane, or even Sam. Now Sam stared at his wife, wondering how she could remain on her feet, what with the cauldron bubbling inside her. Yet he stayed seated, not asking why Renee was being so tested. That would be like asking why Eric turned into a hawk, why Sam had gotten shot, why Josh and Larry had died. Why had God sent his own son to Earth, but men ignored the largest blessing ever proffered? Why was a silly question, Sam knew. Why was the opposite of faith.

But Christ had been divine, whereas human beings were most certainly not. To question was at the root of sin, how the serpent had led Eve to eat that apple to realize the difference between good and bad, but the differences were relative. Was it bad that Sam couldn't father a child, that Eric became a hawk? Sam felt it was wrong how much Renee hurt, but then he hadn't seen any initial purpose to Eric's horrific transformations. Sam had learned a lot about trust in those ensuing months, then Jane was born and.... And now Sam and Renee were at the Snyders', where that family would be tomorrow. Was this truly the last time Renee would stand in this kitchen?

Sam gazed around the room. It wasn't exactly the same as when he had thought Lynne was crazy. It was altered, as were all of them. Sam even drank decaf coffee without hesitation, well, he could tell a difference, but that didn't mean decaf was lousy, just not as strong as regular. What change was God trying to forge within Renee that would cause Satan to so strongly oppose? That was how Sam now saw all that had occurred over the last year. He swallowed hard; a year had passed since Frannie had told them about the twins, but in that year Sam had accepted how much fatherhood meant to him. Was it right that Renee had suffered so much, Sam wasn't sure. Eric and Lynne had gone to hell and back countless times, and maybe they weren't done. And what about Seth? Would that man ever be well?

Renee still hadn't answered Sam's query, so he repeated it. But this time, his tone carried great weight, for it wasn't simply about Laurie's cousin. This inquiry encompassed all whom Sam held dear. For if Renee didn't wish to know about Seth, she was also writing off everyone connected to that man, the New Yorkers as well as the family who dwelled in this residence, a family that was also bound to the Aherns if not by blood, then by Christ.

Sam and Renee were Jane's godparents. Eric was Sam's brother and Lynne was.... She was Renee's sister. If Renee didn't want to know about Seth, eventually she would turn away from her blood relatives, Sam's family, leaving her utterly alone. That was what Satan wanted, for then Renee's heart would be dead, her soul as well. Sam said a brief prayer, maybe it wasn't even an actual appeal. He simply considered his savior's name and how the devil had tempted Jesus. For forty days and nights Christ had endured enticement. Surely God wouldn't try Renee any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Or maybe she was standing there solely due to Christ. Then Sam nodded, although it wasn't just to himself. He looked up, finding Renee's arms limp at her sides, her sodden eyes red blobs in her face. Her cries were silent, but Sam thought that was for his benefit; she looked to have expended as much pain as Eric had during that awful week in December, yet Eric hadn't been able to mask the shrieks attached to such difficult healing. Sam stood, feeling pulled in his wife's direction. Slowly he approached her, inhaling the most healing fragrance he'd ever encountered. It carried a hint of incense, buffered by candle wax, but the third part was a soothing mystery that Sam only considered briefly. For in front of him stood someone he remembered well, but who had been lost for months and months. This tender, precious woman was Sam's wife, Jane's godmother and namesake. She was one of Christ's lambs having been returned to her husband by a most watchful, loving shepherd.

Sniffles shook Renee's whole frame and Sam carefully stroked her wet face. "It's okay honey, I love you. Everything's gonna be all right."

She started to nod, then hesitated, finding his gaze. Her eyes were so cloudy, but in those white-gray irises, Sam could see the girl he had fallen in love with, the woman he had married, and another face, which made his heart rumble like a train within his chest. This woman still wanted to be the mother of his children. Sam inhaled sharply, finding that peaceful scent within the Snyders' kitchen. He didn't ponder its origins or when he and Renee would.... The past or future didn't matter, only that moment as Renee collapsed into Sam's arms, her warm, soft body merging with his. Then her sobs rang out, but being muffled against Sam's chest, their sting was lessened. Renee bawled like a baby as Sam gently rubbed her back, kissing the side of her face, her tears salty and warm. They were also a salve poured out like the balm used upon Jesus' feet. Sam felt his savior's presence all around them as if angels were tending Renee's wounds. It was how Sam had felt when Josh died within his arms, but this time there was no agony or fear. Renee's eyes were closed, but when they opened, Sam would relish their brightness, also the new vision with which they saw the world. Not that his wife would lose her brassy nature, he smiled, telling her how much he loved her. But that brazenness would now be tempered with a newly forged tenderness best befitting.... A mother, Sam permitted, as new life bounced within his ribcage. If God had another plan, Sam wouldn't argue. But maybe it was time for both Aherns. Sam prayed for God's will, then gave thanks to Christ for the broken yet healed woman trembling in his grasp.
Chapter 108

Having overslept, the Aherns skipped church on Sunday morning. Although Renee fretted some, Sam wasn't bothered. The only task he had to perform that day was to collect the Snyders from the airport. But they weren't arriving until early afternoon, giving Sam and his wife plenty of time to recover from yesterday's revelations.

Sam didn't even wonder when Renee might want to visit their best friends; Lynne, Eric, and Jane were all Renee could talk about, once she could speak, yet she only said a little within the Snyders' house. The rest was shared in the Aherns' bedroom, under the covers, nestled closely against her husband. And while Renee never mentioned adoption, Sam could tell it was on the tip of her tongue. He wouldn't try to cajole that subject from her, nor did he want her to join him that afternoon at the airport. But he would mention to Eric that perhaps in the coming week, he and Renee both would like to stop by, once the Snyders were over jet lag.

Eric wasn't only on Sam's mind. He figured heavily in Stanford's head, and in Laurie's. Those men hadn't posed for the artist, although as Lynne changed Jane, Stanford mentioned it in passing as if he'd just thought of it then and there. Both Eric and Laurie had wanted to stare at the dealer, yet they merely acknowledged the idea, Eric noting that perhaps when the men made their next trip west he might have a free minute to draw their likenesses. Eric's tone was teasing, which made Laurie chuckle while Stanford hid a grimace. When Lynne and Jane appeared, three chaps said nothing of Stanford's query, but once on the plane, Eric and Lynne discussed it thoroughly.

As the Snyders flew west, one other considered their trip. Seth wasn't certain of their departure and arrival times, but he knew this was the day he could safely go home. However, he'd made no such overtures to return to Brooklyn. Not that he loved Miami or that he loathed New York; it was simply easier to stay where he was, even if life with Uncle Mickey and Aunt Sheila was at times vexing. Aunt Sheila was still trying to fix him up and while Seth had politely declined her previous attempts, Sheila was undaunted. Her mother had privately told Seth that now Sheila had a challenge, and as of yet, Sheila Goldsmith had never turned down any such contest. Sheila was certain the right woman was waiting for Seth and it was just a matter of time.

On that particular Sunday, Seth wandered around the Goldsmiths' neighborhood, the weather slightly sultry. It felt like summer in Brooklyn, but it wasn't even May. Seth had kept his hair short, in part to not raise any more questions from his uncle, who had taken Seth aside after yet another young woman had been introduced, then rejected. Mickey plainly asked if Seth was like Laurie. Seth had smiled, replying that no he wasn't, but he also wasn't looking for a wife. It was too soon, Seth had then said, his tone quite somber. Mickey immediately backed off, not that he felt he had insulted Seth or Laurie, but that it hadn't been six months since Seth left Caffey-Miller. Mickey hadn't been as worried as his sisters about the effects of Seth's shock treatments; Mickey believed that if a doctor said something was necessary, so be it. On his nephew's behalf, Mickey had spoken to his wife, but Sheila thought both were crazy. A man needed a woman to look after him and Sheila merely had to find Seth the correct match.

Not that Seth hadn't wanted to sleep with one or two of Aunt Sheila's finds. Life in Miami was liberating in one way, or maybe Seth was feeling better. Sometimes he thought that perhaps shock therapy had provided a measure of healing as he rarely considered suicide, yet that action never fully left his mind. But it was mitigated with stories shared by some of Sheila's relatives causing Seth to reexamine his previous worries. Several of those Feinman aunts and uncles had German accents, but only a few spoke English. Often they talked in Yiddish, not wishing to speak the language of their native country. All had immigrated to the United States before the outbreak of World War II, and while they had lived in Florida for over twenty years, they hadn't needed to learn English. Sometimes Seth felt like he lived in two worlds, that of America and of another nation comprised of transplanted Israelites.

But only Mickey and Sheila's daughter Tovah had been to Israel. She had visited her parents for two weeks right after Seth arrived, and the cousins got along well. Around Tovah, Seth could be himself, or who he felt he was, post-shock therapy. Or, he mused, slowly meandering along sidewalks which bordered well-manicured green lawns, around Tovah Seth had begun piecing himself back together. She didn't expect him to do or say or even create anything more than amiable conversation, and while her Hebrew was passable, her English was flawless. Seth had smiled when she spoke Yiddish with her elderly relatives; they clucked at her all the while trying to teach her their way of pronunciation. They didn't try to entice Seth into their vernacular, but those who could speak English enjoyed spending time with this intriguing young fellow who had served his country in Asia. They never asked about his war experiences, nor did they question where else he had been. He was novel for his New York accent, his artistic talent, and that for as hard as Sheila tried, Seth remained single.

But it had only been a month, one of the women would huff, then she might clasp his hand within hers, pinching his cheek as if he was five years old. None of his Brooklyn relatives were that effusive, but then Seth had closed himself off to all of them, save his mother. Not even Aunt Rose would have been so demonstrative. And Seth wasn't bothered by his Miami family, mostly because once he left Florida, they would as good as disappear. He hadn't promised to write to Tovah, there were no pretenses among these people. Despite his lack of a shared language, they were all much the same, those displaced from their homes making do under the incessant Florida sunshine.

But sultry weather didn't bother Seth; after Korea, he was impervious to climatic changes. Some of Sheila's family teased he would melt when the humidity grew awful, but he had smiled, countering that New York summers could get nasty. He never mentioned his time in the army, in part that he hated thinking about it, and that it would have implied that he had suffered. Sheila's European relations had fled Germany because of Hitler. That realization surrounded Seth like a soothing blanket, even on muggy days. Here in Florida, plenty of people were worse off than he.

Yet they were also much like his mother and Aunt Rose, his sisters and cousins and.... Then Seth sighed, reaching the end of that block. No one here, not even Tovah, reminded Seth of Laurie, and while Seth loved his cousin unreservedly, it was Laurie who was now keeping Seth in Florida. Eric Snyder had left New York, not that Seth didn't want to meet Eric, but if he met Eric.... If Seth met Eric, it would be like meeting someone who hadn't escaped Europe before Kristallnacht. Some of Aunt Sheila's relatives had moved to the United States before that event, some had arrived shortly afterwards. And most of those that had remained died in The Holocaust. The few who had survived went to Israel; Tovah was in touch with some of them. They were young, like Seth and Tovah, and had preferred to restart their lives in a nation solely Jewish.

Tovah loved living in Tel Aviv; it was nothing like Miami, which of course Seth had laughed at when she described her neighborhood. Tovah's husband Ben was an accountant, his family having fled Germany after the Nuremberg Laws were enacted, settling in Tel Aviv. But Tovah hadn't spoken much about Ben, as if that part of her life was verboten. Seth hadn't talked about Minnesota, maybe those situations were akin. Sheila's family had set aside their European roots, or some of them, while Seth had blocked out Korea. Those places were of the past and life was for the living. As Seth crossed the street, he smiled. What would Laurie think if Seth shared that notion?

Sometimes Seth wished Laurie was in Florida; maybe away from Brooklyn Seth could start to reveal to his closest cousin all that troubled him. Then Seth frowned, reaching the other side of the street. He looked down that block, rows of houses with neat front yards, big cars parked in driveways. This was the American dream, but not everyone's desire. Initially Tovah had gone to college in Israel to please her mother, who felt their family needed to strengthen their Jewish roots. But Sheila hadn't imagined her daughter would want to stay there. Ben's family was firmly established within that relatively new nation and Tovah deeply loved her husband and her emerging sense of Jewish nationality. Tovah still had her American accent, but she called Tel Aviv home.

What was that like, Seth wondered, as he made his way back to where he'd been living for the last four weeks. Uncle Mickey and Aunt Sheila didn't mind his presence; he kept himself occupied either by helping with household chores or visiting relatives. Sometimes he filled in at Uncle Mickey's chiropractic office when the receptionist was away. He had even tried a little sculpting, but never got very far. He couldn't concentrate, an ability which had indeed been hampered by shock therapy, although only after Seth had been discharged from the hospital. He'd fashioned several pieces in Minnesota, but once he went home, it was like his hands and brain no longer functioned in unison. He could imagine sculpting, but putting it into practice was futile.

He'd told no one that, especially not Laurie. If Laurie knew.... That had been why Seth couldn't meet Eric. He didn't want to talk art with such a brilliant and prolific painter, although at one point Seth had actually considered backing out of his Florida sojourn. That afternoon when Laurie visited, Seth wanted to tell his cousin the truth about Eric. Maybe if Laurie knew about Eric, then he might be able to understand why Seth had enlisted.

Seth smiled, returning to Uncle Mickey's street. The Goldsmith house was third from the corner, but no cars were parked in the driveway. Uncle Mickey was at work while Aunt Sheila could be at any number of places; shopping, visiting relatives, attending a function related to their synagogue. Occasionally Seth went to Friday evening services; he found them soothing, as if he'd grown up steeped in Jewish customs. He hadn't, was as irreligious as Laurie. Their mothers and sisters were more faithful, well, somewhat more involved, but compared to the Goldsmiths, the Gordons and Abrams were downright godless. Not that Uncle Mickey ever complained about his sisters, although Aunt Sheila groused about Wilma, Rose, and the rest.

Reaching Mickey and Sheila's house, Seth walked up to the front door, but didn't immediately pull out his key. He turned around, noting the finely cut green grass, the well-maintained flowerbeds, and a few lizards darting in and out of the lawn. Until Florida, he'd never seen lizards in such a domestic setting; they were nearly as common as mosquitoes. They loved to climb the mesh along the screened-in back porch, scurrying along like they owned the place. Seth wondered if hawks were prevalent in this neighborhood, would these same lizards continue to flaunt themselves with impunity. Aunt Sheila hated them, but their presence was taken for granted by everyone else. Seth gazed at the sky, thinking about Eric. Just how far had that man ever flown, how long had he been a hawk at any given time? If Seth had stayed in New York, would they have talked about that, or would their conversations been kept strictly to art. Seth retrieved his key, unlocking the front door. He'd never know because instead of facing Eric, he'd simply run away.

Laurie never openly accused Seth of that, neither had Seth's mother, but it was the truth. Yet truth was a funny notion, for truth also included occurrences that normally wouldn't be allowed as reality. Seth knew why Eric had painted the blue barn; it was as plain as the lizards in Uncle Mickey's front lawn, creatures that wouldn't stand a chance against a ravenous hawk. For some reason the mice had escaped unscathed, and maybe one day Seth would know why that was. But if Eric ever made his way east, those lizards should beware. Stepping into the kitchen, Seth laughed. Those unsuspecting creatures would make for easy pickings. And if Eric ever painted such a scene, then Seth would have all the necessary proof to give Laurie. Maybe someday Seth would tell his cousin that amazing fact. If Laurie thought Seth was unstable now, what would he make of a man turning into a bird?
Chapter 109

One week had passed since the Snyders' return. In that time, Seth had made overtures that he wished to stay longer in Miami, greatly pleasing his Aunt Sheila while worrying his mother and Aunt Rose. Laurie had let Seth's latest decision pass without public comment and there was little Laurie needed to say to Stanford. Laurie did write to his cousin, detailing the highlights of Eric, Lynne, and Jane's visit, noting the Queens' sketches, wondering if Seth's artistic side might be piqued. Closing the letter, Laurie told Seth how much he loved him and not to come back with a Florida-born wife. While Laurie wasn't thrilled by Seth's continued absence, the lingering effects of the Snyders' stay filled Laurie with a strange hope. He chalked it up to the coming baby, about which only he, Stanford, and Agatha were aware.

Yet, on the West Coast, one other knew of that blessing, and Dr. Salters had pronounced a mid-January due date for the second Snyder child. Lynne had seen her doctor the second day she was home and by the end of the week blood tests confirmed what parents well knew. Lynne was sick in the mornings, sleepy for much of the day, and quite emotional, yet those symptoms had been concealed from the family's pastor, as well as from Sam and Renee. Lynne wasn't sure for how much longer she could keep the news under wraps, but neither she nor Eric felt the timing was right to tell the Aherns. Renee had joined Sam for a brief visit on Friday while Jane was napping. The women had shared copious tears and Eric felt the reason for Lynne's excessive outburst had remained secret. The two couples hadn't paired off during the Aherns' stay, for it was simply to welcome home the Snyders, and to begin a form of healing for Renee. Eric learned that on Saturday, when the men bumped into each other at the market. While Sam didn't get into specifics, Eric gleaned that a breakthrough of sorts had occurred, at least concerning the Snyders. Although, Sam had gently sighed, he wasn't sure when Renee might be ready to see Jane.

That girl was a popular figure at St. Matthew's the following day and a supper date was set for Thursday between Marek and some of his favorite parishioners, he smiled. Lynne had started to cry, but her tears were of a happy sort, their homecoming now complete. Eric hadn't realized how much he'd missed their usual routine until that Sunday at church. Once Renee had interacted with Jane, then perhaps life at home would be fully restored. But as a new week began, Eric would let that last step proceed as nature dictated. He hadn't mentioned to Sam their upcoming project, only that the garden needed his attention as well as catching up on all the correspondence that now rested upon spare card tables in the Snyders' living room.

The letters were separated into three categories, those with no return address, those with a legible address, and those in which Eric couldn't decipher the origin. He would answer all the notes possible, and when Marek came over, Eric would seek his assistance in translating those notes not in English, of which there was a fair number. But Eric could discern most of the mail and what he had found time to read touched him deeply. It also made him ache to work on the Queens' sketches, but first Eric had started to paint Lynne's portrait.

Perhaps having been away from his oils and canvases had been good, for now Eric's gift was being put to use at any spare moment. If Jane was sleeping, Eric and Lynne used the sunroom. If the baby was awake, the family trekked to the studio, the days warm and growing longer. Lynne didn't mind that Eric spent much of the early evenings outside and on some of those nights she joined him, sitting on the stool with Jane in her arms while yet upon another blank canvas was created vibrantly colored life. As Lynne had hoped, Eric used bright shades in depicting his now expanding family and he said these same colors would continue in the Queens' paintings. Maybe spring had enhanced a painter's mindset, for the garden was lush, from leafy trees and boysenberry vines to lumpy grass-laden sod and a vast array of tulips waving in soft breezes. So many notions had accumulated, from friends to nature, welcoming a family home.

But it was at night when parents felt they had truly returned to their nest, once the house was locked, their daughter fast asleep. Eric then displayed to his wife how happy he was to be back within their residence, especially in their bedroom. Lynne usually fell asleep right after the couple made love, but Eric didn't slip away to work; instead he watched her, sometimes brushing stray hairs from her face. He didn't consider these moments were being stored up for later, he only pondered how wonderful was their life and how grateful he was to be cognizant of that fact. Much awaited outside their room, like telling their best friends about the baby, all the correspondence, and how many paintings Eric wished to begin. But most important was the woman beside him, the baby within her, and the child across the hall. When Eric fell asleep, he dreamed of those people as if not possessing enough conscious time to consider his treasures.

On Tuesday, Eric spent the early morning answering mail. He wanted to use the best light for painting, but so many letters waited, he felt guilty if not replying to at least a few. Lynne had told him not to worry about them, but Eric felt obligated to those with easily readable return addresses. He wrote ten notes, then his hand began to cramp. He smiled, stood from the table, then found his wife and daughter in the kitchen. Jane was in her high chair gnawing on apple slices while Lynne sat near her. Eric joined them, grasping his wife's hand. So many emotions bubbled inside him, then he sighed. "There aren't enough hours in the day for everything I wanna accomplish. What would you think if I hired a gardener?"

"If you find one that comes with a housekeeper, you're on." Lynne gazed around the room. "I can't tell you how glad I am Renee and Sam did all that cleaning." Then Lynne sniffled, reaching for a tissue in her apron pocket. She wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. "Oh my goodness," she then chuckled. "This's ridiculous."

"Gonna be a long soppy pregnancy." Eric smiled, kissing her damp cheek. He took a deep breath, then let it out. "So we'll tell Marek on Thursday. When do you wanna tell...."

Before he could finish, Lynne shrugged, then started to weep. She leaned against Eric's shoulder and he embraced her, all the while being stared at by Jane. She didn't join in her mother's tears, then grew bored, returning to her piece of apple. Eric smiled at both females, wondering how the next seven and a half months would proceed.

He imagined it might be much like this, with Jane not being bothered at her mother's outbursts as long as food, drink, playtime, and naps were included. And hours spent posing, although Jane had squirmed in Lynne's grasp. That task might take longer for Jane to reacquaint to, but Eric wasn't worried. He could sketch her on the run, then paint later. Or maybe she would happily sit with her Uncle Marek or her godparents. Or at least her godfather, and Eric sighed again. Unless the Aherns came over that night or tomorrow, Marek would be told about the baby before them.

As Lynne composed herself, Eric released her, feeling a strong paternal sensation. It was deeper than what he'd experienced when Lynne carried Jane, maybe it would increase with every child. Eric smiled at himself; how blessed were they to have one daughter, and now maybe two? Eric hadn't considered a son, even for how emotional was his wife. But Eric didn't ponder that issue. Instead he gave Jane another piece of apple, handing Lynne a napkin. Her tissue had been balled up and placed on the table, making Eric wonder if he should invest in paper products. She might go through a forest by the time January came.

While Lynne again blew her nose, Eric inhaled the sweetness of home; last month had shown him new and unique experiences, yet how good was it to be in this house, how wonderful was their simple life. Then he smiled at himself; needing a gardener, and maybe even a housekeeper, denoted a distinct change for the Snyders. Then a small shiver crept up Eric's spine. Perhaps they could manage without help. Eric hadn't altered form in well over a year and a half, but he couldn't discount the possibility.

Now he sighed in weariness. Lynne looked his way. "What?" she asked, caressing his face. "Eric, are you all right?"

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of having forgotten a part of his existence that could never be omitted. For a few moments they were like any other family, well, a family that could afford such luxuries. Indeed they were blessed, but in no way could Eric risk exposing the unearthly element of his life, and how fortunate that during the home renovations nothing had occurred. He leaned back in his chair, gripping Lynne's hand. "I just realized how ridiculous is the idea of having a gardener or a cleaning lady." He grimaced, then released Lynne's hand. "Sometimes I forget, you know, like it doesn't happen anymore, like it won't ever happen again." He stood, feeling slightly shamed. Then he looked at his wife. "I can't count on it not and the last thing we need is someone here who'd...." Now Eric laughed. "They'd run away screaming, but come back with a posse. We'd never have any peace."

Eric could envision such a disturbance, like witch hunts from medieval times. No walls would be high enough, and the safety of his family was paramount. He walked to the kitchen doorway, gazing at the stacks of letters. People from Europe had found him, he wasn't anonymous. Was that a mistake? Perhaps he should have remained unidentified. Now it was too late, unless he and Lynne moved to a deserted island. Those who loved them would understand, even Stanford and Laurie. But no one could live alone, bringing Seth to Eric's mind. Maybe he was better off in Florida. Those people were objective compared to his family in Brooklyn.

Never having possessed relatives other than his wife, Eric hadn't worried about being discovered. And maybe all this fretting was for nothing, for it had been ages since Eric had changed into a hawk. But now he needed to take care, for while his pastor knew, and the Aherns, the public needed to remain ignorant. That public wasn't merely fans of his work, but the average local who spotted him at the market, their friends at St. Matthew's, even those related to Sam and Renee. How would Lynne explain to Fran and Louie, or to Joan and Russell? How could any of it be understood?

Eric sighed again and Lynne grasped his hand. "I love you. So far we've managed to keep you under the radar."

"Yeah, but now everything's different."

"It is, but not for the worse. We have people in our life, family we never expected." Lynne placed his hand on her flat belly. "Someday we'll have to tell Jane and this baby. And if we need to inform others, we'll find a way to do so delicately."

Eric looked at her. "Delicately huh? That's a funny way to put it."

"How else could you tell Stanford?" Lynne wore a sly grin. "Not that I can think of any situation where he'd need to know, but in the meantime, you're right about hired help." Lynne giggled. "It was a nice idea though."

"Yeah, it was." Eric shrugged, then smiled. "You're gonna be so busy, how will I find time to paint you?"

He placed his other hand between her breasts, then set both of his hands on her hips, making her giggle again. The kiss began as she grew still, and they only broke apart due to Jane's squawking.

They laughed, turning her way, finding her banging on an empty tray. Lynne set another piece of apple in front of the toddler, then returned to her husband's embrace, only leaving Eric's arms when Jane hollered for more food.
Chapter 110

Late on Wednesday afternoon, Eric left the studio, finding Renee and Lynne in tears together in the sunroom. Neither woman tried to hide their wet faces, but Eric sensed their moods weren't connected to a baby still under wraps. Dressed in work clothes, Renee gripped Eric's hands, then cleared her throat. "I just stopped by to issue an invite. Sam's been busy with the vets, but he wants to fix supper for everyone. Lynne says you're free on Saturday, and Sam's dying for some peach pie."

Eric nodded, then hugged Renee. As they separated, Eric smiled. "Peach pie you say? Yeah, I think Lynne can rustle up one of those."

Lynne smirked at him; she was making one tomorrow for Marek. Then Lynne motioned upstairs. Eric wasn't sure if Renee had planned to see Jane that day, but the baby was quiet, and Eric didn't want to upset the moment. He was so pleased to have Renee back in this home, but a key element of Eric's family was missing. Then he took a deep breath; would news of the coming baby again set off Renee? As he exhaled, he could hear faint squeals that quickly grew loud. Eric glanced at his wife, Lynne gazing toward the living room stairs. She began walking from the sunroom, then Renee turned to follow.

"Do you mind if I go with you?" Renee asked.

Lynne stopped at the doorway, facing her friend. Upon his wife's face Eric noted slight uncertainty. Then she smiled, grasping Renee's hands. "Of course. Although she sounds pretty cranky."

Renee nodded, then gazed at her shoes. Then she went to Lynne's side. "I suppose she won't remember me, but...."

Eric joined them, tenderly putting his arm around Renee. "You might be in for a surprise. Let's go see."

The trio took the stairs and by the time they reached the nursery, Jane was screaming. Lynne entered, followed by Eric, then Renee. As Jane spotted her parents, she stopped crying, then stared at the extra person in the room. Lynne lifted Jane from the crib while Eric moved back, still with paint on his hands. Renee remained still, arms at her sides. Lynne spoke softly to Jane, that Auntie Renee was there to see her, yet Lynne didn't offer the baby toward Renee.

In those fleeting moments, Eric so wished for a sketch pad and pencil, yet he accepted that not every event needed documentation. Very slowly Renee extended her right arm, her fingertips almost reaching Jane's hair, which now hung to her shoulders. Lynne had been uncertain whether or not to let it keep growing or to trim it. Eric liked the idea of long hair, but that was the artist in him. He didn't have to wash Jane's tresses or comb them out.

Now Renee stepped closer to mother and daughter, but she remained silent. Jane babbled, having had a good rest. Lynne was the only one to speak, that Auntie Renee had been very busy, and of course Jane had been on vacation. Lynne didn't imply any more than that and Jane didn't seem bothered, for she smiled and cooed, then began leaning toward Renee, her chubby arms outstretched. Eric breathed very quietly, wondering what Renee would do.

Jane seemed perfectly aware of who Renee was, which didn't shock Eric. She had quickly taken to Laurie, then Stanford, and when the family returned from Queens, Jane acted as if Uncle Laurie should have gone with them. It had been several weeks since Jane had last seen Renee, but as Jane continued reaching for her godmother, it was apparent that no distance would keep this little girl from a woman deeply entwined within Jane's life. Finally Renee collected Jane, at first holding her as if Jane had a messy diaper. She might, Eric allowed, but he didn't smell anything unpleasant.

It took a few seconds, but soon Jane was set upon Renee's left hip. Then Renee readjusted her grasp, pulling Jane upwards where they could look into each other's eyes. Now Eric was dying for pencil and paper, but he hoped his memory would suffice. Jane was lost in Renee's enigmatic irises, just as Renee was hypnotized by a little girl's blue eyes. They were still the same color as Sam's, Eric smiled to himself, but he wasn't sure if that was why Renee stared so intently into Jane's face.

Eric wouldn't guess, too many issues from which to choose. He simply appreciated how closely Renee held his daughter and the loving words she now couldn't keep back; how pretty Jane was, how big she'd gotten. How long was her lovely hair, how strong was her grasp, as Jane had grabbed a fistful of Renee's hair. As Lynne pried Jane's hand from Renee's tresses, Renee merely chuckled, remarking that Jane liked bright colors. Then Renee stroked Jane's cheek, noting how blue were the baby's eyes. "The exact same color as Sam's," she said quietly. "But then I told him they weren't gonna change."

Her tone was brassy but tender and Eric's heart thumped in his chest. He gazed at Lynne, tears falling down her face. He knew what she ached to say, but perhaps not yet. This moment was for Renee and Jane. Maybe on Saturday night the Snyders would tell the Aherns that another baby was on the way. Best to inform Marek first, Eric decided, nodding at his wife who wiped her face, also nodding her head.

Renee didn't see Lynne's gesture, still staring at Jane. Eric stepped their way, standing beside his daughter, who didn't do more than glance at him. Jane was fascinated by Renee's eyes, reaching for them. Renee laughed, then sighed. "She sees my crows' feet, poor girl. It's been so long since...."

"She sees the most intriguing eyes I've ever painted," Eric interrupted. "Although, I think I've done them justice."

Renee looked at Eric. "I think Pastor Jagucki's eyes are more interesting than mine."

Eric chuckled as Jane laughed with him. "Well maybe, but not the shade." Eric kept his voice light, but was caught off guard by Renee's statement. "If nothing else, I highly doubt I'll ever paint eyes the same color as yours."

"Well yeah, probably not." Renee now gazed at Jane. "But hers are just like Sam's. I'll tell him that tonight." She smiled, then kissed Jane's cheek. "He'll be glad I stopped by, inviting you all to supper. Oh, Fran and Louie are coming too, I forgot to mention that."

"Well, Lynne might need to make two pies then." Eric looked at his wife, who had composed herself, although her face showed concern. Did they want to inform the Canfields at the same time as the Aherns? Eric wasn't sure he wanted to tell Renee without Sam being present. Maybe the Snyders could pop over to the Aherns on Friday, or Eric could call Sam tomorrow while Renee was working, or....

Before Eric could decide, Lynne had reached for Renee's left hand. Silently the news was shared as Lynne placed Renee's palm where the new baby rested. Eric watched as Lynne nodded at Renee, who made no sounds, but she trembled. Eric's hands weren't clean, but he was prepared to catch his daughter if Renee happened to drop her. Then Renee began to nod, her sniffles apparent. Wordlessly she handed Jane to her father, then seemed to fall into Lynne's waiting embrace. Eric stepped toward the clinging women, both in tears just like he had found them in the sunroom. But this time a different tenor arose, that of apologies extended and forgiveness proffered. And as Eric bobbed Jane in his arms, those sentiments weren't simply from Renee to Lynne, although Eric didn't feel Lynne needed to apologize, unless she felt the timing was amiss. Eric wasn't sure when would have been best, then he glanced at his wife, who caught his gaze. Call Sam, Lynne mouthed. Eric nodded, then headed downstairs, Jane jabbering in his grasp.

When Sam arrived, he rushed through the front gate, nearly running to the house. At first he was surprised that Renee had stopped at the Snyders, he truly hadn't expected her to run that errand. It had been more of a small seed planted, that one day she'd be able to visit there on her own. But Eric's news about another baby had caused Sam to drive at high speed. As he reached the kitchen door, he didn't knock, bursting into the house unannounced. Everyone was seated around the table, although Jane was in her high chair, laughing at what Sam wasn't sure. Lynne looked teary, Renee's face was a red, splotchy mess. Eric wore paint-spattered clothes, but the mood wasn't subdued as Sam had feared. Eric stood, coming to where Sam had been stopped in his tracks. The Snyders were having another baby, although it was early days. Yet Sam couldn't think negatively. As Eric sought an embrace, Sam complied. Then Sam went to where Renee still sat, on Lynne's left. He knelt by his wife, stroking her wet face. Her eyes were bloodshot, but looked to be free of pain. His heart throbbed, for this was so much coming on how hard she had wept not that long ago in this very kitchen. Was this news too much for her, Sam wondered, kissing her cheek, then grasping her hands, which were warm to the touch. She nodded at him, her mouth quivering, yet not in anguish. Closing his eyes, Sam prayed that Renee could take this on board gently. She was still so vulnerable, he felt, as he opened his eyes, finding more tears falling along her face. Yet she smiled at him, nodding her head like she knew what he had just set before Christ.

Eric put a chair near Sam and Sam sat down. Then he looked around the room, taking a deep breath. Not two weeks ago he had wondered if Renee would ever be able to stand in here, much less around the Snyders, who were now expecting a second child. Then Sam gazed at Jane; she had been asleep when he'd collected this family from the airport and he hadn't gotten a good look at her. Her hair was so long, he thought, then he found himself lost in her eyes. The color hadn't altered; in all probability she would keep those kingfisher peepers. Then Sam stared at Lynne; what color eyes would the next child possess?

She met his gaze with a wide smile, then a hint of apology. Sam grinned, still grasping Renee's hands. "Well congratulations are in order I do believe." His voice was soft, but joyful. He had no idea what Renee might have said, but it couldn't have been bad, for they were seated together as if the last year was.... It was over, Sam felt, as Lynne nodded while Renee gripped Sam's hands with a loving, necessary pressure. Last year was behind all of them as Eric sat on Lynne's other side, putting his arm around her while Jane babbled in the background. There might not be any coffee or pie waiting, but for the first time in many months, Sam felt all was right in the world, and where else would be better than in this house where a part of him had been revitalized. All the healing he'd earned when Jane was born wasn't gone, as Sam had so feared while the losses had mounted. He took a deep breath, feeling no tightness in his chest, only great freedom. As he exhaled, he wanted to laugh. Instead he smiled, gripping his wife in his right arm, then meeting Eric's gaze. "So, when's the baby due?"

"Next January." Eric chuckled, then kissed Lynne's cheek. "Probably around the middle of the month. Jane won't quite be two, but...."

"That's good," Renee warbled. Then she cleared her throat. "They'll be close in age, plus Jane will never remember being an only child."

"Yeah, we didn't wanna put too much space between them." Eric looked at Sam. "We only found out for certain last week. We were gonna tell you on Saturday, but...."

Eric's voice trailed off, which Sam thought was fine. It didn't need to be stated why the Aherns were only learning now, but now was better than on Saturday in front of the Canfields. Then Sam wondered who else knew; were the New Yorkers aware, or Marek Jagucki? Maybe Laurie and Stanford, Sam allowed, probably not Marek. Sam wanted to ask, then wished to kick himself. Then he sighed as Renee blew her nose. It was enough that his wife was in that room with such wonderful news being shared. It was terrific, Sam felt utterly pleased for Eric and Lynne. And for Jane, who Sam ached to hold. She looked so much bigger, not the baby he remembered from last month. And in just a few months, another would arrive, making her seem even more grown-up. Then Sam found himself detaching the high chair tray, lifting Jane from that seat. She clapped her hands and squealed as Sam put her on his lap. She was heavier than he recalled, but she leaned against him like she knew this man had been a part of her entire life. Again Sam closed his eyes, but this time his petition was less clear. It centered on children, happiness, and completion. When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Renee staring at Jane, who gripped Renee's fingers. Renee's smile was beatific and Sam's pulse raced. Could this kind of life be possible for them?

Usually chatter would accompany these sorts of gatherings, but no one spoke, other than Jane, but her language was garbled. Yet it carried a distinct purpose, like she was reintroducing herself to her godmother, this version of Eric and Lynne's offspring not the same as Renee knew previously. Now Jane was on her way to becoming someone's big sister, she had traveled across the country, she was so seasoned. Sam smiled, thinking of her in that manner. Her longer tresses weren't those of an infant, and how she chuckled was richer, like she had gained valuable insights in New York City. Sam studied her parents, still nestled against each other. Eric and Lynne were altered too, in part from the coming baby, but in another manner which eluded Sam. He wanted to ask Eric what else was different, had they learned something about Seth, or was it from one of the many letters Eric had received, or had Stanford said something about the European exhibit? Then Sam realized how much time had passed since all five had been together without any clouds to darken the skies. Suddenly Sam felt young, or at least not as old as he'd been feeling. Maybe he wasn't too old to experience what Eric and Lynne knew, and would soon know again. Maybe there was still time for him and Renee to....

"Here, give her to me." Renee's tone was soft but insistent, and Sam handed Jane to her godmother. The little girl cuddled against Renee, who tenderly kissed the top of Jane's head. Then Sam glanced at Eric, who wore a grateful smile. The same look rested on Lynne's face, as if they felt just like Sam did. Maybe for all of them the last year was a time of testing, albeit not so hard on the Snyders as on the Aherns. Or maybe Sam had it wrong, for Eric and Lynne had endured sleepless nights with an infant, as well as Lynne having lost touch with Renee. Sam didn't feel Jane had suffered for her godmother's absence. But as that girl settled in Renee's grasp, she seemed to be reclaiming that spot within Renee's heart. Renee crooned to Jane how much she was loved, how beautiful she was, and what a good big sister she would be. As Renee spoke those words, Sam leaned over, stroking his wife's hair. He needed to touch her, like she required a shield. She met his gaze, her smile still shining. There was much Sam wanted to say, that he loved her, was so proud of her, and how much he'd missed her. This was the woman he had married, the woman Renee had been before Sam left for Korea.

This woman's heart was unfettered, her smile free. This woman loved holding little ones, her softness and warmth fully exposed, also replenished by the reciprocation. It had been so many years since Sam had viewed Renee in this manner, he'd forgotten how easily she used to tote a baby, how readily she had changed diapers or fed bottles to tiny children. Their initial plan had been for Renee to work while Sam found a restaurant where his skills would flourish. They would start a family, then Renee would raise their children as Sam brought home the bacon. Maybe that was similar to how Eric and Lynne had assumed their marriage would progress, although his time as a hawk would always intrude. Sam wasn't expecting a miracle; Renee would never have his baby. But maybe now they could explore what kind of family they might create. He scooted closer to her and she reclined fully against him, Jane starting to doze in Renee's grasp. And for the first time, Sam realized they had never sat this way with Jane, never been so near one another with no fears or pains between them. Sam detected no anxiety or ache from Renee, just the most loving woman he had ever known resting alongside him. He stroked her shoulder and she nodded her head as if acknowledging the same.

He winced, then sighed. She wasn't the only one who had altered and he hoped they could talk about it, maybe later that night, or at least before Saturday. On Saturday, Sam was certain, the Snyders' news would be shared with the Canfields. But before then, Sam needed to again apologize to his wife for having made her wait so long. He wouldn't openly mention children, only note that he'd put distance between them, and for that Sam was still sorry. She felt so good in his arms, how could he have consciously disallowed this part of loving her? Perhaps Renee wasn't the only one who needed counseling. Maybe, Sam pondered, he would benefit from some as well.

"So, do you two have plans for supper?" Eric's voice broke the stillness and Sam met that man's eyes. Eric's smile was playful, then he laughed. "Not that we do, other than maybe sandwiches and canned soup. But it's already after six and I'm starving and it'd be downright rude to eat in front of you without offering some grub."

Renee turned to face her husband. "I'm hungry honey. Why don't you see what you can rustle up?"

Sam smiled, in part from Renee's tone; she sounded so young. Sam wondered if Eric or Lynne noticed, maybe Sam was the only one to tell. Slowly he nodded, then stood. "Lynne, you mind if I make some supper?"

"Not at all," she giggled. "Just toast for me actually."

Now Sam chuckled. "Well that's easy enough. Sandwiches for the rest?"

Renee nodded and Eric shot up his hand. "I'll go wash, then you can put me to work." Eric stood, then headed for the laundry room. "I know there's tomato soup in the cupboard, I'd love some of that."

Sam stepped to where Lynne kept her canned goods, pulling tins from the shelf. When Eric returned, Sam had two pots on the stove, lunchmeats and cheese on the counter. While the men fixed supper, the women pulled their chairs side by side. Renee still held Jane, but Lynne's soft tone emerged, the conversation not one Sam needed to note. He was there, his wife not far, with their godchild on her lap. Then Sam wondered if they might be asked to be godparents again. He smiled at himself, a question for much later. Eric patted Sam's shoulder while the women made chit-chat, Jane quietly resting in the safety of her auntie's arms.
Chapter 111

A Polish pastor was thrilled for news of an impending parishioner, how Marek had jovially congratulated the Snyders' on Thursday evening. That night was split between tales of New York and Queens alongside intriguing letters from across the Atlantic Ocean. Lynne teased that now Eric had more post to answer, but Eric didn't mind, and Marek was happy to translate notes that were written in languages he hadn't encountered in years. His French was quite rusty, he lamented, but his German was still sharp, and much of the correspondence was from West Germany. Most of that was written in English, but a few messages had been offered in a language that for a long while Marek had read or spoken only under duress. He held no prejudices against the German people, but couldn't deny slight angst when encountering that tongue.

No Ukrainian or Hungarian notes waited; those countries weren't on the tour. Since Eric had come home, a few letters had arrived from Holland, where the paintings now were. Marek's Dutch was minimal, but he provided what insights he could muster. He found the Snyders were somewhat ignorant about European geography, well, they knew little about the smaller countries. Then Marek smiled at himself; his knowledge of America's West Coast had been non-existent until he moved here. As Lynne served peach pie, he savored these simple pleasures, also relishing that this couple was expecting another baby. They had also noted the Aherns were aware, and how well Renee had taken the news. Marek's heart had been lifted by that information and he left the Snyder home with an overall sense of joy. He had missed these people and not only on Sunday mornings. Another meal was slated for next week at St. Matthew's. Marek wished to reciprocate, especially with Lynne feeling slightly unwell. Although, he had chuckled as he took his leave, pie was always appreciated.

Lynne made more pies on Saturday as the Snyders arrived at the Aherns before the Canfields. Eric didn't mention to Sam anything about painting that man's portrait; instead they talked about the Queens' sketches, that Seth was still in Florida, and baseball. As the women spoke in the kitchen, Sam led Eric to the backyard. A pot of spaghetti sauce was simmering, and Sam didn't want to leave it for long, but he needed to ask Eric if something had occurred in New York. The notion of change for the Snyders seemed to reverberate beyond the coming baby, Sam still felt, although he hadn't mentioned it to Renee. All she wanted to talk about was how much Jane had grown, how wonderful it was that Lynne was pregnant again, and how glad she was that the Snyders were home. Sam relished those conversations, but with Eric he needed resolution concerning a different topic.

Eric began to make small talk and Sam permitted an exchange about the warm spring weather. Then Sam cleared this throat; the sauce was waiting, plus the Canfields were due any time. "So Eric, is there something else going on, I mean, besides the new baby?"

As soon as Sam spoke, he felt awkward, not only for how abruptly he had changed the subject, but that Eric didn't immediately meet Sam's gaze. For a few seconds, Sam felt sick inside; had Seth's health taken a turn or was Stanford again feeling out of sorts? Then Sam took a deep breath as Eric looked his way. The last year hadn't only been hard on the Aherns. Of course it had been terrible for Frannie and her family, but others had suffered. Sam watched how Eric cracked his knuckles, then sighed heavily. Sam couldn't imagine what might make this man appear so glum.

Everything in Eric's life seemed fine. Of course until after early July, the Snyders would wonder if the baby would be all right. But that was a small consideration, Sam reflected, then he crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe it wasn't so small; Lynne was creeping into her mid-thirties and one could never guess the future. The European tour was going well, or Sam assumed it was. Had something happened or.... Sam didn't want to think about Seth. "I'm sorry Eric, I didn't mean to pry." Sam spoke quickly. Maybe they could forget he even brought it up. Gazing back toward the kitchen window, Sam wondered if Renee was stirring the sauce. Maybe she was greeting Fran, Louie, and the kids, although that welcome would probably have carried to where Sam and Eric still stood. But now Eric nodded at Sam. Sam steeled himself; whatever Eric said, Sam would listen.

As Eric spoke, Sam took several deep breaths, for Eric's tone was plaintive, yet his subject was otherworldly, as if Sam's best friend was a man split in two. The Eric Snyder who left for New York had returned as a being part human, part hawk. Or at least Eric had to accept that his existence wasn't only that of a man. Not that Eric felt imminent change was approaching, but even if he hadn't altered in over eighteen months, that transformation could occur at any time.

Sam forgot all about the sauce and his sister; Eric continued to ramble and Sam paid attention like Eric was another vet trying to make sense of the most implausible situation. This wasn't the tone of a talented and successful painter, nor was it the voice of a husband and father. This was the anguish of someone literally torn in half and Sam had to bite his tongue several times, not wishing to denote how much Eric was like those who Sam counseled on a semi-regular basis. Then Sam wondered if he wasn't the only one who realized these similarities; did Marek Jagucki acknowledge them? Maybe not, as Marek probably hadn't had much experience with soldiers during the war. But Marek had known a rather special hawk and Sam filed that away, perhaps he would delicately inquire about it if Eric's malaise continued. Eric definitely exuded some level of distress, although it was alleviated by all the blessings he possessed. As small children's squeals filtered into Sam's ears, it was those treasures about which Eric spoke, halting the men's conversation in a place that Sam felt was apt. Suddenly they were surrounded by Canfield kids, then Fran, Louie, Lynne, and Renee joined, Renee toting Jane, who squirmed to be set down. Helene hollered for the same and finally Renee complied. As two little girls were reunited, Eric shook hands with Louie, then hugged Sam's sister. Sam studied their faces; they didn't yet know about the coming baby, however by evening's end that news would be disseminated. Yet what Eric had shared with Sam would remain concealed, although Sam was certain Lynne knew her husband's misgivings. Sam wouldn't reveal them to Renee, she had enough to think about already. And as he watched her dote on Jane and Helene, then Johnny and Brad, Sam had to smile. Blessings did abound, it was a matter of concentrating on them while managing the less stellar parts of life.

The evening ended on a joyful note as Eric announced the Snyders' news. Neither he nor Lynne felt it was too early, plus Lynne had spent considerable time in the Aherns' bathroom, retching loudly. Fran and Louie were thrilled for the couple, their children excited as well. Sally offered to babysit and Lynne accepted those services. When the Canfields said goodnight, Lynne and Frannie exchanged a long embrace. Fran's few tears were of the happy kind and Lynne wept too, both women chuckling as they wiped their faces.

After that family departed, the Aherns' home seemed depleted, although Jane fussed some, what with all of her playmates gone. Jane snuggled against Renee, who had held that girl whenever possible, but now the baby was ready for sleep, as was her mother. Yet Lynne didn't wish to leave; it had been so long since the Snyders had enjoyed an evening at this home. Lynne couldn't recall the last time they had shared a meal here; she closed her eyes, but didn't concentrate on that elusive date. Instead she absorbed the voices around her, appreciating the camaraderie.

Renee's tone was different; she sounded younger, and Lynne would ask Eric if he noticed it too. Sam also sounded rejuvenated; Lynne so hoped the couple were reconsidering adoption, but unless Renee brought it up, Lynne would say nothing about that subject. The women were almost back to their usual closeness, which had surprised Lynne for how quickly that footing had been reestablished. But Lynne didn't wish to rush this along. Opening her eyes, she saw her best friend with Jane cuddled close, the baby nearly asleep. Lynne yawned, then smiled. Jane knew that after her own home, this was the next best place to be.

Eric patted Lynne's shoulder; all she would have to do is nod her head and he would make their excuses, which weren't truly necessary. Other than if the Aherns were thinking about making a family, nothing was unknown between them, and Lynne sighed in pleasure, deeply contented by the reunion. She had greatly missed these people, had tried not to think about it. It was similar to missing Eric when he'd been away for a few days at a time, or at least how she thought about it now. Now those four days a few times a year would seem like child's play.

Then she shivered; Eric was thinking about the same issue, albeit in a different manner. Yet it had been on both of their minds and Lynne wondered if it was due to the coming baby, or did Eric feel a departure was indeed imminent? She looked at him; he was chatting animatedly with Sam about all the European mail. At first those letters had been an ego boost, but upon reflection, they had exposed a reality from which Eric couldn't hide. Maybe the last year and a half, without a single incident occurring, had lulled them into a false sense of security. Perhaps they should be more cognizant, or maybe that wasn't how to live this life, assuming the worst. Lynne's faith asked her to consider the best, to expect miracles. The baby she now carried was yet another gift, and she began to cry. She nestled against Eric, not that she needed to conceal these tears from their friends. Lynne needed her husband, but if he again went away, she would make do.

"About time to take someone home." Eric's tone was tender. He kissed the top of her head, but didn't move. Lynne breathed deeply, wanting to fully grasp this moment. She had her husband, a child inside her, their daughter in the arms of a woman Lynne considered as a sister, and another man so close to Lynne's family. Before she hadn't possessed enough vision to appreciate these intangibles, but faith had widened her vista. She looked up, then smiled at Sam and Renee. They nodded as if aware. Then Lynne gazed at her daughter. Jane was fast asleep, snoring even. Lynne giggled, then wiped her face. She wanted to go home, put Jane in her crib, then fall into bed next to her husband. What more to life was there?

Within half an hour, those notions had come to pass. Lynne and Eric snuggled under their covers, having made a hasty but satisfying love. She'd said nothing on the drive home, but as he'd gripped her hand, Eric seemed to know her desires. Now as slumber teased, Lynne said snatches of half-formed prayers while trying to remain conscious enough to file this moment into her memories. But sleep overcame her and soon she was snoring.

When she woke, Lynne immediately listened for Jane, but the house was quiet. Eric's side of the bed was empty and Lynne found his sheets were cool. She used the toilet, put on her robe and slippers, then stepped from their bedroom. Gripping the railing on the landing, Lynne wished to call out for Eric, but didn't want to stir Jane. Hearing nothing, Lynne went downstairs, where outside a large moon illuminated the patio. She stepped to the French doors, then spied her husband seated at the table with what looked to be a sketch pad in his hand.

Lynne opened the door, making Eric turn her way. "You okay?" he said softly, going to his feet. As she nodded, he met her just past the door. Eric stroked her face, but his hands were cool. He was dressed in his robe, but Lynne wondered how long he'd been outside.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, still caressing her face. "It's warm out and the moon was just gorgeous, thought I'd try a different sort of drawing. Never done anything so dark, not that I have time to paint more than what's already waiting, but...."

Lynne kissed him and Eric responded eagerly. Then he broke away, but pulled her right against him. She nodded as he leaned his head on her shoulder, then she stroked his hair. Maybe how young the Aherns seemed that evening had triggered something within Eric, bringing him back to when his and Lynne's lives were so unpredictable. Now they were downright staid compared to those earlier days, but nothing remained static. "Honey, have you felt something?"

She had wanted to ask, but hadn't wished to pester him. Like Renee, Eric needed time to process whatever he felt might be coming. He stood away from his wife, but Lynne couldn't easily see his face, the moonlight behind him. He didn't nod his head either, but he set his palm along her cheek as if silently giving his assent. Lynne shivered, but in part from a sudden breeze. If he did go away, she wouldn't rue his absence as in days past.

"I just feel like so what if I paint Agatha's family, or Sam even. What does any of that mean if I'm away from all of you?" Eric placed his hand on Lynne's flat belly. "It's been so long and sometimes I have forgotten it all. Even in New York I wasn't thinking about it, so much to do and see and...." He stepped so close to her that Lynne could nearly hear the pounding of his heart. "Maybe I'm being ridiculous, because no, I haven't felt a single thing. And I mean that honey. It's all here." He tapped the side of his head. Then he sighed. "And here." He gently patted his wife's abdomen. "I don't wanna miss any of this, not like I did with Jane."

Lynne wanted to note that those few weeks were ones she never considered. Yet she understood his fear. She didn't want him away either. "I love you. I'm sorry this's so troubling."

He sighed again, then shrugged, removing his hand from her. Then he faced the moon. "How many nights have I been away from you, sleeping God knows where under this same light, or in complete darkness, and yeah, I've come home every time, but...." He faced his wife. "Now it's not just you and me. My God Lynne, I'm so happy about this baby, I tried to be subdued tonight, but it was hard because this's all we've wanted. I looked at Sam and Renee tonight, Fran and Louie, aware of all they've lost, and then saw you or Jane, and I wondered, why God have you given Lynne and me so much, but these others have had to suffer so deeply?"

Now Lynne stroked her husband's face. "We've suffered too." Then she smiled. "I don't have any more of an answer than that."

He nodded, placing his hand over hers. "I know and I thought about that too, I mean, nothing in life's equal, and maybe all my caterwauling doesn't make sense. It's just that in New York, I didn't have time to think about all this; all I wanted was to get home to paint you, Sam, Queens. And Stan and Laurie." Eric had a quiet chuckle. "I know how I wanna paint them, but I need them here. Later in summer, I suppose. Guess I'm just complaining about nothing," he then sighed. "I want it all, but I have it all right in front of me." He grasped Lynne's hands, kissing the backs of them. Then he set a tender kiss along her face. "I don't wanna miss a single moment of this pregnancy, I just wanna be here to paint you, make love to you, teach Jane whatever she needs to know. I wanna go hiking this summer," he added with a laugh. "I know that's the last thing you probably want, but I was thinking about that tonight. Sam sounded so young, made me remember how much hiking we used to do years before."

As Eric spoke, Lynne chuckled. But when he said before, she stopped; his voice was wistful, like they never would get around to that activity. She gripped him and he grasped her with vigor. Yet for the first time in recent memory, these embraces carried a hint of anxiety. Lynne closed her eyes, feeling Eric's face along hers. As he told her how much he loved and needed her, she nodded, praying for a calm heart. They remained in those positions until a stiff wind arose, blowing Eric's sketch pad and pencil from the patio table. Eric retrieved them, then led his wife inside, where again love was made, followed by fitful sleep for both.
Chapter 112

Holding a drink in his left hand, Seth stared at the assembled guests. Sheila's Aunt Deb had organized this party and Seth was attending under duress. He sipped the scotch, needing a fairly strong dose of alcohol to remain. If he got drunk, maybe his aunt and uncle might feel inclined to leave early. If nothing else, if Seth was inebriated, he could slip into a quiet room and fall asleep.

He stood in a corner as the rest mingled in the living room or out on the screened-in back porch. There were probably thirty people and he knew only a few of them. This was a younger set than with whom Seth usually associated, although he was still one of the youngest. None of Sheila's eldest relatives were here, other than her Aunt Deb and Uncle David, who were the evening's hosts. After one drink, Seth had chatted amiably with David Myerson for about five minutes, then David had moved to greet another guest and Seth had poured himself another glass while Sheila and Mickey cozied up to their usual cliques. Women sat on one side of the living room, men on the other, and Seth wondered if eventually the groups would gravitate to either the interior or exterior of the house. Seth enjoyed observing the scene, especially now that he felt the effects of the scotch. He'd never been a drinker, nor was he now inclined to consider using booze to soothe his pain. But it was nice, just for that evening, to allow a shield. Sheila had insisted he attend, and now he understood why; most of the women were his age, or at least weren't old enough to be his mother.

Yet they were all his elder, so maybe Sheila had decided Seth required a more mature partner. That thought made him smile, but he didn't feel at all like walking up to any of them and making small talk. The little he'd spoken to Uncle David was all Seth felt like sharing. And now he couldn't even recall what they'd said, maybe something about the weather? Seth took another sip, then gripped the tumbler. Perhaps it was time to go back to Brooklyn. The Snyders were long gone and how many more cocktail parties would Sheila badger Seth into attending? He was tired, and maybe a little tipsy. He wasn't at all interested in anything anyone here had to say, gossip and politics mixed with news from Israel. He was bored with the same conversations, whether they were in English or Yiddish. He smiled again, tracing the rim of his glass. Maybe there was no further reason to stay in Miami.

He could book a flight home as early as tomorrow; it might appear as an insult to his aunt, but Seth was weary of her attempts at playing matchmaker and.... Seth sighed; the blue barn no longer resided in New York and if he went home without that painting to admire, what would he do? His mother wouldn't demand anything of him other than the usual household chores, Aunt Rose would request his assistance only if one of her sons-in-law were busy. Seth didn't consider Laurie; being away from his cousin had been a relief, although the distance was also difficult. Seth missed Laurie, but what in the hell was the purpose of going home, Seth mused, finishing his drink, then wondering if he should get another. He gazed at the bottom of the glass, only a trace of liquid remaining. He swirled it, then looked up. A woman across the room was staring at him.

She wore a long sleeved dress, although the fabric looked somewhat sheer. Yet it had been warm that day, the humidity high. All the other women wore sleeveless frocks or those with cap sleeves. This woman's hair was loose, a dark color, all he could tell from where he stood. She looked older than him, but as she blinked, then permitted a vague smile his way, maybe she was seventeen. Somehow her long sleeves indicated youth, whereas usually the opposite was true.

He placed his glass on a nearby table, then smiled at her as she lit a cigarette. Seth was one of the few who didn't smoke, but he didn't mind. Cigarettes had been prevalent in the army, at the hospital in Vermont, and at Caffey-Miller. His father had smoked a pipe, but his mother and sisters had eschewed tobacco, as had Laurie's family. Then Seth glanced at his aunt and uncle. They were about the only ones not smoking. Maybe it was a Miami habit, he grinned. People here smoked to forget the incessant sunshine.

He'd found that aspect of the weather rather draining, even if it was the season for it. Snowbirds must truly hate winter to retire here, he considered, finding the woman still looking at him. She wasn't trying to hide her interest and even from far away, Seth found her attractive. She seemed mysterious, what with those long sleeves and her ageless face. He squinted, then smiled broadly. Perhaps Aunt Sheila had finally found success, or at least Seth would let her claim this victory.

Slowly he made his way around groups of men, standing in circles talking loudly. The women were seated, all but the one who still gazed at Seth. He paused about ten feet from where she stood, David Myerson seeking his attention. Calmly Seth permitted this intrusion, although David seemed to have nothing of significance to tell him. It was like David was stalling for time. Seth didn't gaze in the woman's direction, but could feel how badly she wished to speak to him. Equally David acted as if keeping them apart was vital. Maybe Seth was too old for her, perhaps she was a teenager. He tried to glance her way, but from what he could see, she no longer stood against the wall.

Seth ached inside, which surprised him. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to investigate something other than.... He chuckled at himself, as well as the joke David told, then Seth excused himself. David tried to keep him there, but Seth gingerly patted David's shoulder. Turning away, Seth saw that indeed the woman had stepped away, but he wasn't troubled. She had simply removed herself from the group so that when Seth found her, they wouldn't be bothered by anyone.

He used the bathroom, then slipped into the kitchen where a few women did dishes. He didn't know them and they kept right on talking. Seth had only been to the Myersons' a few times, wasn't sure of the home's layout beyond the living room, bathroom, and the back porch. He exited the house through the front door, then walked to the street. The night was dark, although streetlights illuminated sections of the sidewalk. Other homes were well-lit, it wasn't that late, and cars lined the street. Then Seth heard someone cough. He turned around, seeing the woman standing near a tree just at the edge of where light shone from overhead.

In the dark, he couldn't tell more than it was her. Yet he sensed how much she wanted to speak to him, as if they had been standing side by side within the living room, yet forcibly kept apart by David. Seth walked in her direction, clearing his throat. As he reached her, he smiled, some part of his soul revived by this enigmatic female.

It had been years since Seth had slept with anyone; sex had no place in his life due to depression. But he felt very aroused now, which made him stifle a chuckle. In the dim light, he could see the woman's face and she looked pleased for his presence. She also appeared older than him, lines around her mouth and eyes, also creases in her forehead and neck. Yet she was beautiful, making Seth wonder if she was real. He gazed around, but it was only the two of them, the night sultry but not miserable. He wanted to speak, but was uncertain of what to say. The mutual attraction was obvious, but did she know about him? Had Uncle David been trying to give her time to disappear rather than hook up with a man so damaged? Seth wanted to reach for her hand, he ached to confirm that yes, she was factual. In a moment of impetuousness, he did that very thing, finding her fingers warm and sensual. She gripped back with force and he swallowed hard. Maybe staying in Florida another few weeks would be just fine.

He didn't want more than a fling with her, which would upset Aunt Sheila. But Seth sensed this woman wasn't asking for something permanent in how she then quickly released his hand, but stepped toward him at the same time. Then she stroked his cheek, which made him close his eyes. "I'm Norah," she said, her German accent prominent. "I know who you are."

Seth nodded as a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine, mixed with a chill of uncertainty. "Who told you?" he said hoarsely.

"Auntie Deb." Then Norah had a soft chuckle. "Uncle David was terrified you'd come tonight. But Deb told him there was no way to exclude you."

Now Seth opened his eyes. Norah's hand remained on his face; she was so close that if he wrapped his arm around her waist, they would become one. He wanted that now more than before, in part due to David's reservations and that this woman seemed unafraid of him. Seth set his hand on her shoulder, the fabric like a barrier, even for how sheer it was. "Why the long sleeves?" he said.

Norah trembled, then shook her head. "Don't ask so many questions."

Seth blinked, then removed her hand from his cheek. He grasped hers within his, staring right into her eyes. "Can I ask where we might go?"

"A motel," she smiled.

He nodded. "Do you have a car?"

She laughed. "You don't, I assume?"

"That I do not." A rising sense of mirth permeated Seth's chest. This wasn't the kind of encounter his aunt had planned and David Myerson wouldn't be pleased either. Yet, Norah wasn't a girl; she looked to be in her early forties. Was she attached to one of the men at the party, Seth wondered. "Will our absence be a problem?"

"We won't get far without a vehicle," Norah sighed. She squeezed Seth's hands, then took hers away. "I'm only a guest here."

"Me too." Seth chuckled. "But perhaps I could call on you tomorrow in the light of day." He smirked at himself. Uncle Mickey would understand and let Seth use his car. And depending on how things went and the length of Norah's visit, Seth might refrain from returning north immediately. Laurie would find this hilarious, but Laurie would be the only one with whom Seth would share it, other than asking Mickey to borrow the car.

For those moments, Seth permitted such ordinary considerations. Most people didn't ponder all that rumbled through his mind; sometimes the most basic passions overruled. And maybe it was good that Norah was shrouded in mystery, from her long sleeves to her German accent. Seth could simply expend his hunger as if he was no more than a tourist seeking to escape the boredom of everyday life. That was the pretense upon which he had arrived in Miami, his formal introduction to Sheila's older relatives cloaked by that excuse. Of course they knew the truth, or a glimmer of it; he'd left New York when he did because of the Snyders. Yet to these transplants, his arrival was blamed on the cold weather, a need for change. Would Seth reveal that to Norah? She was here for reasons he could imagine, but not wish to ponder deeply. They could have a brief affair, unless she was married to one of the men at the party. Then Seth might only share one encounter with her. Yet he was going to sleep with her, for in how she now touched him, she insinuated nothing less would be acceptable. Seth nodded, then kissed her, agreeing to her unstated request.

They necked under the tree, then broke apart in laughter as sprinklers shot water in their direction. Seth grabbed her hand, leading her to a dry spot on the sidewalk. He gazed at the house, finding a living room curtain had been pulled back. Then it was hastily returned, still rustling. "Someone was spying on us. Anyone I need to worry about?"

"No," she said, her voice light. "But I do need to show you something."

"What?"

She shook her head, then stared at the ground. "You're a sculptor, correct?"

"Yeah." He shivered, wondering if it was from his slightly damp clothes or more rightly in how readily he'd answered her question. Perhaps he still was an artist, yet that distinction seemed erroneous. He'd been a sculptor ages ago. Then he wondered if Norah considered herself still German, or was she simply a Jew like the others. Their accents were as strong as hers, but Seth always felt that their native country had been excised from their characters. They were Jewish, living in Florida, no more, no less.

"When was the last time you sculpted anything?" As she spoke Norah grasped Seth's hand. Hers was wet and she spread the water along his fingers. "Have you made anything here?"

"In Minnesota," he said softly, which wasn't quite the truth. He'd played around with clay in Brooklyn, but nothing tangible had emerged. "I made figures of those in the hospital I stayed at."

He wanted to be honest. She must know he'd been in and out of institutions for how vehemently Uncle David had tried to keep them apart. Yet, Norah wasn't a child. Did she have a lover waiting in the house or did the Myersons believe Seth was more damaged than Sheila and Mickey had let on?

"Do you want to sculpt again?"

Norah still massaged Seth's hand, but the feeling wasn't sensual, or at least Seth couldn't conjure any passion. Not that he felt artistically inclined either. He stared at Norah's actions, like she was trying to stir his gift. Then he stroked her face. "What are you doing?"

"They told me about you, but I didn't believe them. I don't want to believe them," she added, her voice plaintive. "Maybe if I show you, then you can sculpt again."

"Show me what?" Seth placed his other hand over hers, stopping her actions. Then he looked at her left arm, covered by fabric. "Why are you wearing long sleeves?"

This time his tone was direct; if she put up an argument, Seth wouldn't stop until.... He gazed at her, finding tears forming in her eyes. He wiped them away, but her mouth quivered, and she shook her head. "You don't want to know," she whispered.

A welling sorrow rose in his chest. Yet it was buffered by a burning need for knowledge. "You can show me," he said, gently placing his hand on her left upper forearm.

As he did, she flinched, then sighed. "Not here." Then she let out a small cry. Immediately Seth pulled her close, wondering if the secret could leak through her tears, which now fell copiously. He wanted to soothe her, but first he needed to feel her pain. He felt strong standing there, gripping her tightly, like all the answers were right at his fingertips. Yet he grimaced, not for how fierce were her cries, but for the gamble he wanted to take. But he would never get another chance, and how fleeting was this opportunity? How risky, he also wondered, far more than shock therapy.

He stroked her left arm as if he could see that injury, permanent in nature. His fingers tingled, although nothing in his right hand felt inspired. More to notice was his heart, which beat frantically in his chest. He wanted to make love to her, but in addition, he needed to inspect her. It would be akin to how he had focused so intently upon the blue barn, but maybe Norah could proffer a deeper healing. Or, Seth allowed, a further descent into....

She kissed him and he succumbed to that diversion. Did he want to be well, he wasn't certain. He did desire this woman, but not in a motel in another day or more. Ignoring his racing heart, he ended the kiss, then pointed toward the end of the street. A children's park was around the block, if he remember correctly. "I want you," he said.

Norah bit her lip, then nodded. "There's a playground around the corner. It's very dark there at night."

"Good." Seth assumed she had walked the length and breadth of this neighborhood, just like he had at Mickey and Sheila's. But unlike Seth's sojourns taken during the heat of day, Norah had required the shield of nighttime. And again the dark would protect her, and him as well. Let them make love this first time without any scepter of her past. Tomorrow Seth would revisit this woman, and then she could fully reveal herself. That night was only to broker the initiation.
Chapter 113

May days were full of painting and correspondence for Eric, posing and domestic duties for Lynne, while Jane romped all over the house and garden. A toddler never noted the slight angst suffered by her parents and while Renee remained in the dark, Sam was aware. He didn't broach Eric's anxieties, nor did Sam mention his role in Eric's future canvases. Eric was too busy capturing Lynne and Jane, when Jane permitted her portrait to be painted. And when Eric had free time, he planted vegetables or stretched canvases for the Queens series.

In the evenings, as Eric scribbled brief notes to various European admirers, Lynne might write to Laurie or Agatha. Often Lynne fell asleep on the sofa once Jane was in bed, and sometimes when Lynne stirred, Eric was near her, sketching her image. She would smile, rub her eyes, then remain horizontal, allowing him to complete the drawing, which often led to Eric then snuggling with her. They didn't make love on the sofa; Eric would hoist Lynne from the couch, then lead her upstairs. Lynne would fall asleep and sometimes she woke in the middle of the night to Eric beside her. Sometimes she stirred to an empty bed, finding him either sketching outside on the patio if enough light permitted it. Otherwise he was answering letters by one lone lamp, over which she mildly scolded him for using poor light. Rare were the nights that Eric slept solidly, and sometimes the entire family napped in the afternoon. Lynne didn't question her husband for she knew there was no adequate answer for him to give.

But by early June, others noticed Eric's fatigue. Sam teased that becoming a father of two was already taxing the painter, while Renee gently suggested that Eric take some sleeping tablets. But it was a pastor to inquire with more force, on a warm June night after supper had been served. Marek sat at the patio table with Jane in his arms as Eric yawned in the chair across. Lynne had gone to fetch dessert, leaving Marek with a moment to observe his friend, who recently had seemed utterly exhausted. Marek understood Lynne's weariness, but she was beginning to feel better, although she still easily broke into tears. Eric looked downright drained, yet he had shown Marek several completed paintings of Lynne and Jane, and stacks of blank canvases, one of which Eric had set aside to use for Sam's portrait. It was big enough, Eric had laughed, to showcase the automobile. Marek had chuckled, but even then Eric had appeared worn. Now he closed his eyes, no sketch pad nearby. Marek didn't mind, two paintings of him and Jane were plenty. Marek was looking forward to the first portrait's return, but that might not be until next year. Several Italian galleries had been added to the tour and a few French museums not originally exhibiting the collection wanted to be included. At this rate, Eric had smiled, the paintings might be gone for an entire extra year.

Marek studied his friend, Eric's eyes still closed. Small frets were etched along the side of Eric's mouth, also forming lines in his brow. Eric had never looked so old and perhaps fatherhood could be claimed as the reason, but Marek knew something else had caused these wrinkles. Then Marek frowned; after that one conversation, they had never spoken about hawks again, there had seemed no need. And actually, the night Eric asked his question, Marek's response had been rather terse, but Marek had still been troubled by Renee's decision to end their sessions. That subject had overruled Eric's initial query and at the time, Marek hadn't felt the need to return to an issue that carried so much baggage for both men. It had been necessary to acknowledge it, Marek permitted. But what else had there been to discuss about such a miracle? Or maybe, Marek allowed, it was easier for him to view that bird as miraculous. For Eric, hawks carried darker undertones.

Yet, Eric's time as a bird had culminated in the arrival of the toddler in Marek's grasp, and another baby on the way. Eric hadn't mentioned Seth, and the pastor hadn't wished to ask, for the evening had been full of delicious food and jovial conversation, and as Lynne's return was detected, another course of the tastiest kind awaited. Marek truly appreciated Lynne's baking prowess, especially this new treat of sweet potato pie. It was as fantastic as the peach, yet so different in taste and texture. Marek would have a scoop of vanilla ice cream with the peach, but when he ate the sweet potato, no accompaniment was required. Small flecks of potato dotted the pie, and yet they seemed right at home, the imperfect yet flawless texture as if he was lingering in his mother's kitchen, waiting for dessert.

If he ever met Agatha Morris, Marek would look for similarities between that woman and the memories of his mother. In the meantime, he had written to Mrs. Morris, thanking her for teaching Lynne how to bake such an exquisite treat, and now an emerging correspondence had begun. Marek had enjoyed sharing insights with Mrs. Morris, and she greatly coveted his news about Jane. Jane seemed as fond of sweet potato pie as her pastor, for as soon as Lynne set down the tray, doling out slices, Jane started to call for her mother, or maybe she was saying mine. Marek wasn't sure and he asked as Lynne laughed. "I can't tell what she means, but she only says it when I put pie on the table."

The foursome said little while dessert was consumed and Marek gladly handed Jane to her mother when the toddler clamored for more. Marek loved this little girl, but she'd eaten her slice, and he wanted to concentrate on Jane's father, not to mention enjoy his own dessert. Taking slow, well-savored bites, Marek observed how the man across seemed half-present. Something was demanding Eric's attention, but it wasn't connected to his family or art or even to Lynne's magnificent pie.

Once plates were empty, chatter returned, starting with Jane, who gibbered in what to Marek sounded like Polish-accented English. In Polish, he asked if she had gotten enough dessert, and she responded in what sounded like to Marek that no, she had not. He translated that to her parents, making both chuckle. "Oh, I think you've had quite enough." Lynne kissed the top of Jane's head, then made a face. "And you smell a little fragrant. Time for a bath."

Marek noticed Lynne's graceful exit. Plates remained, but Marek didn't think about those as he gazed at Eric, who stared ahead blankly. Anyone else would assume the painter had been watching his wife and daughter walk away. Marek knew otherwise.

Yet the pastor didn't immediately speak. He stacked the dishes, the early evening pleasant as a cooling breeze wafted past. Marek imagined spending more than a few summer nights at this residence and he said a quick prayer of thanksgiving for how God had maneuvered him far away from home, yet to a place so familiar. Looking at the studio, then to the forest beyond, Marek could imagine this was where he had experienced a most unlikely encounter with what he had long ago decided was a moment with Christ. Yet Marek didn't feel that Jesus was sitting across the table; God used Eric in a different manner, through Eric's prodigious talent as well as having turned him into a bird of prey.

And as the father Eric was, the husband, and the friend. Marek didn't think a fellow Pole had changed into a hawk to lure Marek away from certain death. Maybe Eric considered that as the case, but it wasn't a point the pastor wished to debate. What mattered to Marek was getting to the root of Eric's fatigue. "So Eric, have you had trouble sleeping lately?"

Marek's tone was flat, but he had a hard time hiding his smile. Around this man, nothing could be taken for granted, nor concealed for long. Eric stirred from his reverie, then gazed at the pastor. His smile was slow in coming, but Eric had heard every word Marek spoke. "Um, yeah, actually. But I can't blame Jane. She sleeps like a rock."

"Ah well, that's good. And Lynne is resting well too?"

Eric nodded, now grinning widely. "Indeed, for herself and the baby." Then Eric sighed, but it wasn't hedged in weariness. The joy he espoused made Marek's pulse race, then the pastor looked at the ground. Small smooth stones reminded Marek of the forest he had long ago traversed, pebbles lining a shallow creek from which he drank when the hawk had taken shelter along a low branch. That bird had directed Marek's every move, leading him far from the village, but keeping him near water and berry vines. Marek had never explored that section of the countryside, and he had never returned. He'd fled from his home, never saying goodbye to anyone. Truthfully, there had only been one person Marek would have wanted to see, but he'd been too traumatized at what he'd found to seek out anyone. The barn had been burnt to the ground, his home completely ransacked. He knew what had happened, there was no manner in which to disguise the atrocity perpetrated. He even knew why, revenge against his uncle for hiding a small number of Jews who had escaped being sent to the death camps. That Marek's family was Lutheran had done little good in the mostly Catholic country, although later Marek doubted that even if they had been Catholic would his family have been spared. By then the Nazis were in total control, only tiny factions of resistant fighters holing up in the forests. Marek had rarely pondered the fate of others within their village who had tightly shut their doors as murder was afoot. Only one person sometimes slipped into Marek's thoughts, but that young woman was now as lost to Marek as was his entire family.

Yet, he couldn't erase her, as Eric now stared toward the house where his wife and daughter had gone. Then Eric looked at Lynne's empty chair, the stack of plates, finally gazing at Marek. Eric's eyes were fully human, or Marek was so used to them that no longer did he see anything but those of a talented painter whose vision was acute not from otherworldly pastimes. Seth Gordon probably had similar eyes, seeing what the average person couldn't identity. Or maybe Eric's vista was unique. If Marek was ever introduced to Seth, he would study that man's eyes, seeking confirmation. Then Marek smiled as Eric leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles. Eric took a deep breath, then let it out. "How long has she been gone?"

"Hours perhaps," Marek teased. "Not long. But your wife is as well versed in subtly as she is at baking."

Eric chuckled. "For so many years she's lied on my behalf. She probably will again one of these days."

Marek nodded. "Do you feel change is imminent?"

Eric shook his head, then he shrugged, throwing his hands in the air. "I used to be able to tell a few days in advance. Then a couple of times I had no idea. That's when the trips started becoming longer." Eric sighed. "How much do you wanna know?"

Now Marek flinched, for he wasn't actually sure. "I suppose I want to know whatever you feel like sharing."

Eric smiled. "Do you realize I've never talked about this with anyone except my wife? Sam and Renee have seen it, so I don't need to say anything to them. Not that I want to, I mean...." Eric stood, then looked at the studio. "It's been over eighteen months since the last time. Maybe I'm past it, but I can't assume that." He turned to face Marek. "Since we've come home, it's all I can think about, not sure if it's reading how many people admire the blue barn or just that having been away for a month, I never considered it. And I mean that. I did joke with Lynne before we left that if I transformed...." Eric paused, then sat back down. "My God, even to say that seems bizarre. Did I actually just say that I...."

Marek nodded. He felt almost like a counselor, not wishing for Eric to stop speaking. It was very odd indeed, but it was also the truth. Again Eric shrugged, staring at the house. Then he gazed at the dishes, picking up one of the forks, which he then carefully placed back with the rest. "I turn into a bird Marek, but the last thing I want is to leave my wife and our child. My wife is pregnant again, and I left her before, but I can't promise I won't abandon her, Jane, and our next baby. Our second child...." Eric slumped in his seat, then quickly sat up. "I know we're blessed, please don't misconstrue my complaining." Then Eric sighed. "My goodness, I'm so tired. All I do is wonder about something I have no control over. I used to do this years ago, leaving Lynne for a few days at a time. But now I go away for weeks, sometimes months. And, God forbid, what if I...."

But Eric couldn't say the words. Instead he stood, stalking about the patio. Marek didn't watch him, but as Eric crunched over the small stones, Marek knew where the painter stomped. Suddenly Marek wondered if his family had been listening for anyone to halt what was being perpetrated. Would anyone come to their aid, risking their lives in the process? But Marek had no idea how many Nazis had descended upon the village in broad daylight with one task on their minds. As if his family were despised Jews, they were rounded up, forced into his father's barn, then.... Yet, there was nothing Marek or Lynne, Sam or Renee or even Jane could do to cease the inexplicable alteration that Eric occasionally made. Marek had yet to meet this family when it last occurred. It was what had brought the Snyders to St. Matthew's. And now two men discussed an event most people would consider to be wholly ungodly. Yet God was present in hawks as well as inside a burning barn.

The barn hadn't been blue, Marek couldn't now conjure what shade his father had painted it. But when he did think of it, it was the bright kingfisher hue in Sam's painting. And something about that particular shade was so healing; had Eric planned that, or did it just come to him. Or had the barn he'd based that painting upon been that beautiful color? Marek had no doubt that Eric had painted that entire scene from memory, but not that of a man. The mice had been terrified of a predatory creature and that creature was now the person still skulking around the patio table. The prowling manner of Eric's steps chilled Marek. Then Eric plopped back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Then those limbs fell to the arm rests. But Eric gripped the end of the handles, unable to fully shake his mood.

His mood was tinged with anger, but steeped in helplessness. Marek knew those feelings well, then wondered if those sensations had kept his neighbors behind their locked doors. Then Marek pondered the fate of one woman, not more than a girl back then; had she considered him? When he returned to the village it was late, and no lights shone from any of the houses. Only the moon had illuminated the area, probably better for Marek to see such devastation in the dimmest light possible. His neighbors probably thought he was among the dead, for his mother had sent him off early the previous morning. Marek hadn't lingered long, little for him to see other than the remnants of his life in smoldering piles where a barn had once stood. He had gingerly entered the house, but in moonlight he noted similar ruin, as if merely ghosts remained. When he exited the house, he had quickly glanced at the surrounding homes. To him, ghosts dwelled there too, but now he could accept that those people had done the only thing they could. They had looked away, praying to God that their lives would be spared.

Now Marek possessed the ability to permit such actions; it was rare for people to stand up for a just cause. Did Klaudia ever ask her parents why they did nothing while the Jagucki family was being burned alive? Did her family even survive the war? Maybe the Nazis had returned to that village, destroying it entirely to hide that massacre. Marek would never know, a part of his life forgotten. Yet, Eric wasn't afforded that luxury, as it was. Marek gazed at that man, who appeared so vulnerable. Never before had Marek witnessed the painter in such a state. Then Marek shuddered. He inhaled, then exhaled, praying as he did so. His intercession covered the Snyder family, Seth Gordon, and Klaudia Lisowski. Marek wasn't sure if she was dead or alive, but he felt an overwhelming need to include her. Then suddenly, he mentioned her name. He hadn't spoken about her to anyone living. Only his brother Dominik had known the extent of Marek's feelings for her. And how Marek had assumed she felt about him.

Only when it grew too dark to see did Marek stop talking. A few times Eric added some affirmative comment. Otherwise Marek had usurped the conversation, but he didn't feel to have offended Eric. Marek fully recalled what they had been discussing when no longer could the painter continue to speak. And honestly, what Marek offered wasn't any less strange, how else to consider such mayhem in that civilized setting? Lights blazed from the house, but the brightness wasn't frightening. Marek knew true warmth from where he sat, as if he could hear a mother singing lullabies. The forest surrounding Eric's property held no mysteries other than as a safety zone for.... Marek stood, then stretched. Then he reached for the stack of plates. "Goodness, where has the time gone?"

Eric went to his feet, then yawned. "I couldn't tell you. But I will say I feel I could sleep for a week."

Marek smiled, gazing at the upstairs windows, which were lit from behind closed curtains. "I hope that tonight ushers in several good evenings' rest."

"I can't imagine getting up for anything other than Jane pitching a fit." Eric stepped to where Marek still stood. "Thank you for listening, and for sharing." Eric took a breath, then exhaled slowly. "You really have no idea what happened to her?"

"None at all. Sometimes I considered trying to find her, but I never had, as you Yanks say, the guts." Marek smiled. "Perhaps it was easier for all of us, assuming she and her family did survive."

Eric nodded, then gently patted Marek's shoulder. "I'll pray for them. For Klaudia, right?"

Marek shivered as her name was spoken. "Yes, Klaudia. This's terrible, but I can't even recall the rest of her family's names."

"I'm not surprised." Eric began walking toward the French doors and Marek followed. "Sometimes I wonder how you're here at all."

They had nearly reached the house, but Marek stopped. "Sometimes I ponder that as well. And then I shake my head, how foolish to question more than how best to serve God at that moment." Marek spoke lightly. It had taken him a long time to reach that point within his faith. At times life was so absurd, best to never take it too seriously.

Eric's soft chuckle warmed the pastor's heart. "Truer words have rarely been spoken. I badly needed our discussion. How can I repay you?"

The painter's voice was also chipper and Marek playfully tapped his foot. "Well, a slice or two of sweet potato pie would be an excellent manner of compensation."

Eric laughed, but lowered his voice as they entered the house. "Pie I can spare. But I doubt two slices will be enough."

"Any more and my trousers won't fit." The men trooped to the kitchen, which had been tidied. A tin waited on the table with two large slices under wax paper, making Marek chuckle. "Your wife is always a step ahead of me."

"Of me too." Eric took the dessert plates from Marek's hands, placing them in the sink. Then he joined the pastor. "So I suppose we'll see you on Sunday."

"Indeed." Marek picked up the tin, then gazed at Eric. "Give Lynne my best, and of course my thanks for the delicious supper."

Eric nodded, then cleared his throat. Yet he remained still. Marek didn't gaze at him; so much had been said, a plethora of items Eric might be considering. Then Eric leaned against the counter. Now Marek looked his way. Eric still appeared unsettled, yet if he spoke, they could still be talking in the morning. Marek stifled a yawn, which made Eric chuckle. "Go on," the painter smiled. "We'll continue this another day."

Marek grinned, heading toward the door. Eric followed, but Marek shook his head. "I'll see myself out. You find your bed. And may you have a very good night's sleep."

Eric started to protest, but Marek waved him off, then opened the door. As he stepped outside, a brisk wind ruffled the wax paper atop the pie tin, blowing it away. Marek closed the door, then carefully walked to the front gate. He took one glance back at the Snyders' home, still brightly lit. Yet the forest behind it was dark. Marek set his hand over the pieces of pie, then made his way through the gate. Opening the car door, he placed the uncovered tin on the front passenger seat, then walked to the driver's door. Another stiff breeze blew past him. He said a brief prayer, got into his car, then drove away.
Chapter 114

Over the following week, Eric enjoyed several straight nights of sleep. He started painting a portrait of Agatha, her sister Belle, and Lynne, all standing in Agatha's kitchen. He replied to the rest of the letters that had arrived during his absence, then started answering those that had accumulated since the Snyders returned from New York. When Jane came down with a cold in mid-June, Eric's sleep suffered, but that was solely related to placating a cranky toddler. Lynne and Eric took turns, but Eric preferred his wife to rest. She was over the bulk of morning sickness, but remained easily upset, although her tears rarely lasted for more than minutes. They joked that perhaps they were having a boy this time, yet Eric felt this baby was another daughter, and he kept that joy to himself.

He did chat more with Marek; they discussed general topics at St. Matthew's, but at the Snyders' home, once Lynne had taken Jane inside for the evening, the men's conversation drifted from the present to the past. Eric relayed much of his childhood while Marek recounted his own youth, two very different courses they noted. Yet just as Eric was honing his talent for art, Marek was being drawn into a religious life. By the time Eric had met Lynne, Marek was a pastor, aching to leave Soviet-led Poland.

Sometimes their discussions extended to those around them; Eric had yet to start the painting of Sam and his car, a phrase that always elicited a laugh from the pastor. Marek still endured harassment from Mrs. Harmon, although lately she'd been kinder to him, the reason for which Marek wasn't certain. Perhaps summer calmed her mood, he smiled. Eric mentioned that his art dealer was coming in July and Marek inquired if Laurie Abrams was joining him. Eric gave pause when Marek included Laurie, then Eric smiled, answering that indeed it would a twosome. Marek never asked why and Eric only added that Laurie preferred going west at this time of year rather than making a sojourn to Florida to visit his cousin. Seth had yet to return to New York, and neither Eric nor Lynne knew any more than what Laurie had been told, that Seth enjoyed life in Miami and had no idea when he'd go home to Brooklyn.

On the sixteenth, a Sunday, Eric and Lynne decided against going to St. Matthew's. Jane still had the sniffles and Lynne was tired. Sam had asked them over for supper and Eric even declined that outing. When Jane fell asleep right after lunch, Lynne also laid down, leaving a husband and father with time on his hands. Eric wandered through the garden, vegetables growing well, but a little behind schedule. Eric weeded, then stood, brushing dirt from his knees. Then he gazed at the studio, the sun making glass panes sparkle. He smiled, heading that way.

The door wasn't locked and Eric stepped inside, some completed canvases on easels, stacks of blank canvases along the walls. The large one waited in the back and Eric approached it, imagining the painting already displayed upon it. Sam would be leaning against the driver's door, his arms probably crossed. Eric would leave the pose to Sam's choosing, but he assumed Sam would set a shield over his chest, as if telling Eric that while this painting had been Sam's idea, it was also a trade-off. Yet the Aherns hadn't spoken to either Snyder about adopting a child. Renee visited often and held Jane at every opportunity. But that was as far as Renee could go. Eric didn't mind, it was fantastic to have the Aherns back in his family's lives. If children were meant to follow, Eric knew they eventually would.

He studied the blank canvas, such a wide scope, but he did wish to depict the entire length of the Chevy. The only question Eric still pondered was how he would fashion Sam's face, or more precisely, that man's smile. Or lack of one; Eric wasn't at all sure which expression Sam would proffer. Eric half expected a slight grimace, but then Sam would later be hounded by his relatives as to why he hadn't projected a happier countenance. It would be the same when Eric painted Stanford, although no one would harass him if he didn't grin. Well, Laurie would, and Eric chuckled. Laurie would wear the biggest smile he owned while Stanford would do little more than smirk.

Eric hadn't mentioned to Marek that he was planning to sketch that duo in July; to say that would imply far more than was Eric's right to bestow. Yet Marek seemed to comprehend the gist of the men's relationship, why else would he have inquired if Laurie would be joining Stanford? Eric had been honest, that indeed Laurie would prefer to fly west rather than travel south. As far as Eric knew, Seth was doing well in Florida. But maybe Laurie was keeping the truth from the Snyders, or perhaps Seth was as good of a liar as Lynne.

That thought made Eric shudder. He rarely considered all the excuses she'd once made on his behalf, and while those in town who mattered were aware, others remained with whom she might have to again stretch the truth. Yet Stanford had never called Eric on his previous absences, and as for the Canfields, it wasn't like Lynne and Fran were constantly visiting one another. Still, it might be awkward, then Eric shook his head. This was all conjecture on his part. He'd had no physical inkling leading him to believe a departure was imminent. Yet why couldn't he get it from his mind?

At least he was sleeping better, which was good because Lynne required slumber, which made Eric smile. If he went inside now, there was still plenty of time for Jane to nap while parents enjoyed some carnal pleasures. But Eric didn't leave the studio, for Lynne had looked especially tired that morning. Better for her to get all forty of those winks, then perhaps that evening they could make love.

Eric turned to face her portrait, displayed on the other side of the room. In it, Lynne was asleep on the chaise lounge, one of her breasts mostly exposed, the other concealed by her hair, which she hadn't cut since their return. Her nipples peeked through brown strands, how she had fallen asleep after Eric had made love to her there in the sunroom a few weeks back before Jane fell ill, but right after Eric and his pastor had spoken about a woman still deeply entwined within Marek's heart. Klaudia Lisowski might not even be alive, but if she was, Eric wished that somewhere on the European continent she had access to The Pastor and His Charge. He knew it was a fleeting hope; his paintings weren't anywhere close to Poland. And in all likelihood, she was.... Eric closed his eyes, thinking back to how Marek had first spoken her name, like he was breathing life into a faded dream. She was probably deceased; most likely the Nazis had returned to Marek's village, hauling everyone to a labor camp. She was the same age as Marek, or had been, and while they had known each other all their lives, only in that last year had more than friendship evolved. Marek had spoken plainly about her, yet his tone was measured, that of a man in his mid-thirties recalling what wasn't more than an adolescence crush. Except that Eric had heard far more in Marek's voice similarly to how Eric had deduced great loss in Marek's otherwise cheery brown eyes.

How Marek Jagucki had maintained his sanity, Eric never questioned, for he had managed the same. Their situations had been wholly different, but the underlying horrors suffered either made or broke a person. Eric could stand there and admire his wife's beauty, which he had placed one stroke at a time upon that canvas; how was that possible after all his father had done to him and to Eric's mother? Equally, how could Marek seek the good in people, considering the appalling loss of his entire family?

Eric felt like painting, but not a picture of Lynne. He ached to create another impressionistic piece, about the only method he could employ to begin to make sense of such an abstract query. But the studio's interior was warm and the women in his life had been sleeping for a good portion of the afternoon. Even if he started a painting, it would be the sort needing his undivided attention. And his attention was not merely focused upon art; he had so much on his mind that art was merely one way to start unraveling myriad questions of which most held no satisfactory answers.

Turning back to the painting of Lynne, Eric felt overtaken by passion, then he smiled at himself. Then his thoughts grew proprietary, how he'd felt about her when she had carried Jane. Yet his wife wasn't that woman anymore, motherhood maturing her in a way that Eric noted within this recent portrait. She looked perfectly at ease without any upper clothing, but not because her hair hung loosely over her chest. This was a seasoned woman unafraid of the future, similar to the figure Seth had carved, yet she wasn't beseeching assistance. In this painting, Lynne was perfectly content, which was how Eric perceived her, regardless of her few bouts of weepiness. Those were strictly hormonal reactions to this particular pregnancy and might not be at all related to whether or not she was carrying a boy. Eric studied his wife's fulfilled smile, how relaxed she seemed, and yet how solitary was her pose. Solitary wasn't right, he mused, for her left hand clutched her abdomen, denoting the baby. But she looked perfectly happy by herself. Eric remembered how often she had glanced at him and how he'd had to remind her to stay still. She had laughed as if having never posed for him, yet she always returned to this same comfortable mood.

However something about her face troubled Eric. He examined the hue of her eyes, which was correct, then he gazed at her nipples, a deep red wine color, which had surprised Eric as the months passed, how that part of her body had permanently altered. Before her nipples had been pink, then he smiled. She wasn't that woman anymore.

But who was she, he then thought, again returning to the painting. She seemed far more wise than who she'd been when perched upon that stool, her arms outstretched, her breasts completely visible. She didn't need to be so unabashed, although attire wasn't required. Eric hadn't chosen to portray her as vulnerable; even when caught in a moment's sorrow, she acted as though she could withstand a firestorm. And that thought made Eric shake in his shoes.

Hearing Marek talk about what had happened to his family had chilled Eric; it was one thing for the painter to have discerned such an atrocity, but to have the words spoken regarding it was as odd as Eric discussing his past or turning into a bird of prey. Those events couldn't be real, yet they were, and neither man had a corner on the market when it came to suffering. But what of the women that had been left behind? Lynne had always coped without her husband, yet most of those times had been brief. Still she'd lied for him time and again, then had managed to convince Renee, although Sam had needed proof. But now if Eric went away, there was Jane to consider and another child and.... As Eric glanced at her portrait, he understood why Lynne looked so contented. She knew that no matter what, her life and those whom she loved were under the care of someone far greater than she.

For a moment, Eric felt unnecessary. Then he sighed, relieved that even if he left, Lynne would be all right. He hated thinking about missing any part of this pregnancy, and perhaps he was wasting precious time mulling over the notion. But within his heart, he knew Lynne would find a way, like she always had before, of smoothing rough edges created by his absences. Granted, with their three closest friends aware, it was easier than previously. And Jane was too little to need verbal assurances, although Lynne would provide those promises, probably more for her own heart than Jane's need. It would be Eric to suffer most, going off to God knows where for whatever reason necessary. Then Eric sighed long and loud. The tables had indeed turned; no longer was Lynne the one left alone.

He gazed at her smile, not the same one she had sported when seated on the stool. The mystery of this grin went far deeper, not completely connected to the baby inside her. It was bound up in her faith, which was a mere flicker when she was this far along with Jane. And it was related to an idea that Eric hadn't realized when painting this portrait, but that now felt like a slap along his face. If the worst happened, Lynne would be all right. She would mourn him of course, but now her soul was bolstered by a force more powerful than Eric's position as her husband. He inhaled that idea, then exhaled, trying to not grow resentful. How many years had she been reticent about posing for him, believing their infertility was her problem, and all the weeks she spent living without him while Sam thought she was crazy? Then came another long period of solitude, followed by more weeks of seclusion, although she was never fully isolated. Each of those had fashioned within her a necessary strength, as well as highlighting a weakness only answered by faith. Those checks and balances culminated in the image Eric had set onto canvas, like he'd never seen this woman before.

Before.... He ached at that word, but not for what his wife had suffered. Before now fell upon his shoulders as if even this moment was slipping from his grasp, turning into time he would never get back. But that was the nature of time; it ticked away and best to relish the present. That was how Lynne always approached his homecomings; she had lamented his absences, but when he returned, all that pain was forgotten. They had only spoken about it in depth right before he went searching for his father. And then everything changed, which was so starkly pictured in this version of Eric's wife. If he had painted her in their ancient past, he imagined those portraits would look nothing like the woman she was now.

Did she still need him? He shook his head, of course she did. But perhaps part of her heart had altered, especially with another baby on the way, taking space previously allotted for her husband. Or maybe Eric was being ridiculous. He stepped away from the painting, then gazed at the rest gathered, Lynne with Agatha and Belle. Lynne's smile was fetching; she was pregnant, but they weren't yet aware. Eric ached to pull her close, telling her how important she was to him. Then he glanced back at the semi-nude. That woman didn't seem to need him at all.

He knew that wasn't true, but why had he depicted her in such a way? He then realized why, but loathed to expend more thought toward such a notion. As he exited the studio, he stared at the house, his bedroom window open, the curtain fluttering against the screen. Lynne was awake, was probably waiting for him. Eric quickly walked along the path, not thinking about more than the woman upstairs.

The couple made love, then Eric collected Jane from her crib. The trio lounged together on the master bed until the telephone rang. Eric headed to the kitchen, picking up the receiver, but the caller had hung up. He lingered for a couple of minutes, but whoever had tried didn't attempt again.

When Eric returned upstairs, he found his wife and daughter in the nursery; Jane wore a fresh diaper and Lynne chatted to the baby, still lying on the changing table. Eric said nothing, only wishing to listen to voices which filled him with complete happiness. Then the phone rang again. He barely had time to catch Lynne's gaze, then he ran downstairs, picking up the receiver. "Hello?" he said breathlessly.

"Eric? Oh I'm sorry, didn't mean to make you rush." Stanford spoke softly, then cleared his throat. "I tried a few minutes ago, was hoping to catch you."

"I'd just missed it." Eric gripped the receiver. "Is everything all right?"

The long pause made Eric grit his teeth. Then Stanford coughed. "Um, no. Laurie's on a plane for Miami. We didn't want to tell you until we knew exactly what was going on, and while we're still not one hundred percent certain, Laurie insisted that I get in touch with you, and Lynne of course. As you can guess, he's on his way to see Seth."

Eric nodded, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, he wished Lynne was close, but he hadn't heard her come downstairs. "What's happened Stan?"

Stanford took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "He's in a hospital down there, we're not sure if it's a psychiatric hospital. To be perfectly honest, it's been like pulling teeth to get anything out of those people, I swear to God." Then Stanford coughed again. "Only last night did Laurie learn Seth was admitted. He's going down alone, but Wilma will probably join him in a few days. I think she wants Laurie to assess what's happened before making the trip."

As Stanford finished speaking, Eric heard footsteps approach. Lynne entered the kitchen toting Jane, but Eric couldn't meet his wife's gaze. He stared at the tin on the counter, half of a sweet potato pie left from a couple of days ago. Suddenly Eric was starving; as soon as he got off the phone, he'd have a large slice, maybe Jane would share it with him. Then Eric began to tremble. He closed his eyes again, praying that Seth had only suffered broken bones. But Eric knew a far worse malady had gripped that man. If Seth had merely been physically injured, his family would have been notified immediately. But what ailed Seth had little to do with bodily trauma.

Lynne caressed Eric's shoulder, which eased his shaking. Then she brought a chair to where he stood. Eric was hesitant to sit, but he did, still gripping the receiver. "Stanford, when will Laurie arrive in Miami?"

"Not until late tonight. He wasn't able to get a direct flight, he's got a layover in Charlotte, I think it's Charlotte." Stanford paused and Eric heard the shuffling of papers. Then Stanford coughed again. "Yes, he's in North Carolina for a couple of hours. As soon as I know something concrete, I'll be in touch."

Eric nodded, then grasped Lynne's hand, squeezing hard. "Stan, have him call me tonight. I'll still be up, tell him to call collect once he knows anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I know he'll have plenty of people to inform, but if he has time, I mean, he'll be exhausted, but if he can...."

"He will, that's why I'm calling you now. He told me to tell you he was going down there, I think so that you had a heads-up. But Eric, it might be very late and...."

"I've got three hours on you. It won't be too late."

"All right, if you're certain, then I'll tell him. I don't think he was planning to talk to Rose or Wilma tonight. But I think he'll be relieved to speak to you."

Eric nodded again, then stood. Lynne was beside him and she put her arm around him. "All right, then I'll wait to hear from him tonight. And Stan, please don't hesitate to call us with any news, regardless of the hour."

"Oh, well, certainly. Again, I do apologize for calling, I mean...."

Eric heard sniffles, but they weren't from his daughter. Stanford again cleared his throat, then he sighed. "Eric, Laurie did want me to ask if you and Lynne, well, if you'd keep Seth in your prayers."

"Of course. Do you think he'd mind if we shared this with Sam?"

"No, I don't think he would." Stanford again coughed, then returned to the line. "So, Laurie will be speaking to you next. I have no idea how long he'll be down there. At this point we're just taking things moment by moment."

"I see, okay. Well, again tell him to call no matter how late it is, unless he's just too tired." Eric gripped Lynne's waist with his free hand, then stared at his daughter. Jane's eyes were wide, like she comprehended the gravity of Stanford's words.

Then Eric gazed at his wife; Lynne's eyes were calm. She tickled the baby, rousing Jane's smile. As Jane then began to giggle, Eric ended the call. He brought his family close, rousing Jane's laughter. Eric whispered that he loved his wife, then that he'd be up late that night. Lynne said nothing while stroking his face, then nodding her head.
Chapter 115

When Laurie arrived at the hospital, he carried several weights on his shoulders, those of his aunt and mother, Seth's sisters, Laurie's sisters too. However the biggest burden was the memory of Eric's voice from when they spoke last night. The artist had sounded especially pained at this latest turn of events, which had crept into Laurie's dreams, making for a poor night's rest. It seemed Eric was more concerned about Seth than Wilma was, which Laurie knew wasn't completely true, although Laurie's aunt had seemed rather resigned when they had received this news. Wilma wasn't pleased that it had taken her brother days to work up the courage to call them about Seth's setback, but she wasn't overly surprised by Mickey's lack of fortitude. And now that Laurie knew the reason for Seth's suicide attempt, maybe his entire family could begin to understand just how fragile Seth truly was.

What had also surprised Laurie, in addition to Eric's unease, was exactly how Seth managed to survive these rather deliberate actions; he had deeply slit his wrists, yet was in a relatively stable physical condition. Sheila had relayed the news, once Laurie had changed out of rumpled clothes and had downed a stiff drink. It had been Mickey, she clucked, who hadn't wanted to tell his sisters that Seth had again fallen into depression. Sheila had seen this coming, she'd sighed, also with a bourbon in hand, but her perceptive tone had faltered when she gave the reason, or what she expected was the reason. As she had shared her thoughts, Laurie discerned guilt, but not that Seth had tried to kill himself on their watch. The culpability went far deeper, and now as Laurie approached the hospital's front desk, he had to wonder if Seth had stayed in Miami aware of what might happen. Perhaps there had been no other place for him to fully explore this side of their heritage, even if it was geographically far away from where they called home.

But Laurie wasn't thinking Brooklyn as he smiled at the starchily dressed nurse behind the counter. He gave Seth's full name and their relationship while the nurse nodded, offering him Seth's room number. Seth wasn't receiving any mental health treatment; at this point, the staff was merely bringing him back to life. He'd lost a lot of blood, Sheila had noted, yet it seemed he was going to survive.

Walking down the hall, Laurie wondered if his aunt expected Seth to make a full recovery. What was the purpose of these interventions, Laurie mused. Would it be better if Seth died, then Laurie stopped right where he stood. He glanced at the sterile surroundings; it didn't look much different than the institution in Vermont, although this was a regular hospital. Then Laurie wondered about Caffey-Miller; two of Eric's paintings still hung there, and while Seth hadn't elaborated about how much they meant to him, he'd noted that other patients appreciated the color. Then Laurie continued down the hallway; how many hospital corridors was he supposed to visit, how much of his cousin remained?

When he reached Seth's room, again Laurie paused, looking for a doctor or nurse. No one appeared, and he opened the door. Would his presence hinder Seth's recovery? Then Laurie grimaced; his bearing would have no effect upon Seth's physical health. Yet he had to see this man, one so beloved, yet fleeting. Maybe it was better that Laurie had traveled, and to somewhere new. This wasn't Vermont or Minnesota. This was Miami, home to displaced European Jews as well as many other people.

Entering the room, Laurie found Seth sleeping, his arms swathed in gauze. Laurie didn't flinch; he'd witnessed his cousin in this manner before. Yet before Laurie hadn't been aware of how deeply Seth hurt. Now that he had an inkling, it was like Laurie could feel the slash marks. Those wounds weren't from days ago, or from Korea, but further back, maybe from Biblical time, if Aunt Sheila was right. Laurie smiled, then shook his head. But who knew, maybe Sheila was correct. If she was, at least this gave Laurie and his family something to go on.

But it didn't matter unless Seth was willing to work with her diagnosis. At this point, Laurie wasn't certain if Seth wanted to live. He had cut through several arteries, how much damage had he inflicted upon tendons and muscles? Laurie flinched again. Even if Seth found a way out of this black hole, had he permanently injured himself so that sculpting was impossible? Laurie wondered if that was the cause of Eric's anxiety, one artist fearing for the talents of another. Yet, Laurie hadn't heard that last night when speaking to Eric. That man feared something beyond Laurie's scope.

Laurie sat down, wondering if he should have worn slacks. The heat that morning had felt oppressive, so he had chosen shorts, although now the backs of his legs clung to the chair. A fan blew in the corner of the room, which was devoid of decoration. The air was stirred, but smelled of all the other hospitals Laurie had ever visited, with the added odor of humidity making it hard for Laurie to catch his breath. That was new and he pondered what it signified. Everything in this latest setback seemed to carry substantial meaning. Laurie then wondered if that was due to the change of location, the severity of Seth's wounds, or that this time they had an idea of why he was again in harm's way. Or, Laurie swallowed with distaste, might this be the last time Seth would survive such an attempt?

Every time Seth had tried to end his life, the injuries were more severe. Sometimes he had overdosed on pills, once he'd tried to hang himself. That he hadn't yet found success might seem strange, as if he was merely crying out for help. But divine intervention had always hindered Seth's wishes, how Laurie saw it, especially this time. Mickey and Sheila had gone out for supper, leaving Seth alone. He'd had plenty of time to bleed to death, Sheila had said plainly, but when they returned he'd still had a pulse, amazing the paramedics. Of course, no one had yet mentioned that maybe Seth might have suffered additional mental impairment. He had regained consciousness, but not made any overtures to family. Would he speak now, Laurie wondered, gazing at the unconscious figure in bed. Aunt Wilma would only travel if she felt Seth needed more immediate kin. There wasn't anything she could do in Miami other than hover, what she'd told Laurie, and what good was that? Long ago the Gordons and Abrams had accepted that Seth was a precarious member of the family; maybe shock treatment had severed him, or allowed those women space to set him apart. It wasn't from lack of love, Laurie knew, but self-preservation. How much longer could any of them continue to stretch out their hands to no apparent avail? Laurie used to think he would go to any lengths to save his cousin, and perhaps he still would; he was in Miami after a dreadful connection from Charlotte through terrible turbulence. Then, as Seth's eyelids fluttered, Laurie's heart skipped beats. He wanted to weep, for suddenly he knew he'd fly to the moon if this man could return to their family in one piece.

"Seth, hey, you need anything?" Laurie scooted closer to the bed as he spoke, the chair legs scraping across the tile. He had wanted to get up, then lift the chair, but his legs were still stuck to the vinyl seat. The noise seemed to have stirred Seth, maybe that was okay. Laurie cleared his throat, then gingerly reached for Seth's left hand, lying motionless on the bed. Laurie gave his cousin a firm squeeze, feeling just the hint of that action being returned.

Laurie closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. As he let it out, he opened his eyes, finding Seth gazing his way. Laurie couldn't tell if Seth was focusing on him, but at least Seth had moved his head in Laurie's direction. "Hey, good morning. Or maybe it's afternoon already. I don't know what time it is to tell you the truth." Laurie didn't know the hour, or even what day it was. All he knew was that this man was still among the living. And that in these moments, Laurie needed to relay the importance of that fact.

Seth nodded weakly, then closed his eyes. He was alive, but only by a thread, which Laurie realized was mostly due to why Seth had fallen so far down the deepest hole Laurie could imagine. Laurie could clasp both of Seth's hands if he stood, then leaned over the debilitated man in bed. But regardless of the physical proximity, Seth was on the moon, and Laurie was there on Earth, and who could bridge that gap? President Kennedy said by the end of the decade an American would reach that site. But Seth didn't have seven years; he might have seven weeks if they were lucky. As Seth again weakly gripped Laurie's hand, the connection was fleeting. But it was now so strongly woven through Laurie he would move heaven and earth to bring Seth back to their family.

Life wasn't merely eating, breathing, and sleeping. It was participating in the joys, and the sorrows, but not buried in the misery. Seth had been bobbing like a leaky boat in a sea of depression, years spent harming himself, trying to make sense of events that truly held no clear purpose. Laurie wouldn't dare to analyze all that Seth felt needed answers, nor could he judge his cousin for trying to make sense of what was illogical. Maybe the artist in Seth felt those inquiries required resolution, and perhaps, when Laurie again spoke to Eric, he might ask the painter if he felt similarly challenged. What mattered now was addressing, in the barest terms, the issues that had driven Seth to such horrific actions. Laurie would tell his aunt not to travel. The man lying in this bed was so picked apart, it would only grieve Wilma, as if Seth hadn't actually survived.

Then Laurie wanted to shake himself; how had he missed this, why hadn't any of them seen the reason, or at least guessed at it? Were they so distanced from what Sheila's relatives had witnessed, suffered, then escaped? Maybe Laurie needed to call his cousin Tovah, perhaps speaking with her husband Ben or his parents, who had fled Germany while it was still possible for Jews to exit the country. Then Laurie sighed. It was too late to ascertain that information. Seth didn't have that kind of time.

For the first time, Laurie saw the situation clearly, and for a few seconds, that vision was frightening. So slender was the cord by which Seth clung to life, making Laurie feel that every passing minute was being wasted while he sat stuck to his seat as Seth tried to make eye contact, but was too weary to meet Laurie's gaze for more than brief glimpses. Yet, Seth's blue eyes were sharp, as though he comprehended Laurie's knowledge. It was hard for Seth to admit, even in glances, all of the turmoil, yet he ached to speak, was clearly dying to share the unbearable weight that had been suffocating him long before Korea. How had he sculpted the figurines, Laurie then wondered, pieces full of hope and healing and.... They had been made as a manner to now reach out for whoever could untangle the mass of confusion and torment, but the right doctor had to be found quickly. For, Laurie shuddered, as Seth took back his hand, this was the last unsuccessful attempt. Next time Seth would complete the task.

"I won't leave you, I'm not going anywhere." Laurie spoke softly, but with conviction. "I know why and I'm not gonna lose you. I love you, you hear me? We all love you and we can't lose you." Laurie fought tears as memories flooded him, from that initial introduction to childhood playtimes, through adolescence and when Seth enlisted, up to sharing cake in Aunt Wilma's kitchen just months ago. Then Laurie thought of last Thanksgiving, when Seth told him what he saw in the blue barn. That information now fell upon Laurie's shoulders, and while it was crushing, he was capable of hoisting it. He had to or else it would grind his cousin right into the ground.

Laurie's athletic build could withstand the pressure, but Seth had been too slight and pensive. Before he was old enough to put all of that into perspective, he'd made the choice to serve his country, which had exacerbated instead of releasing that burden. Now Laurie needed to shield Seth long enough for that man to breathe freely. How many years had he been inhaling the most toxic.... Laurie then felt unable to breathe; was it the humidity? But he knew exactly what it was, and he shivered as oxygen finally hit his lungs. How many Jews had waited for water to fall, but instead gas had surrounded them with nowhere to flee.

His heritage had never felt so tangible, not in a synagogue or at a bris or any other Jewish event. He ate pork without a second thought, rarely celebrated holidays, and had more deeply mourned homosexuals killed by the Nazis than his own people who had been exterminated on an unfathomable scale. No one could truly plumb The Holocaust, it was impossible. Then Laurie inhaled deeply, staring at Seth. He'd tried, although Laurie wasn't sure why. But he needed to know, because Seth had to face that reason, a force so strong it was killing him. Was it guilt for being untouched, had he felt a connection to some particular name or personality, did his artistic talent require him to fashion resolution, reasons that to Laurie were far too large for one man to adopt. No single person could take on such unrelenting responsibilities, that was madness. And that madness was strangling the life from Seth, but not if Laurie could stop it.

Yet who could breach this overpowering psychosis? Maybe Seth needed a Jewish psychiatrist, or one schooled in this sort of trauma. Laurie needed to ask Aunt Wilma the religions of Seth's former doctors, probably they had been Jews, but Laurie needed to know their qualifications. Maybe not too many Jews had worked at Caffey-Miller, he assumed, but that was the past. Seth needed care here in Miami, not that he could be transferred back to Brooklyn anytime soon. He required intense analytical treatment, and certainly no more shock therapy. Most importantly he needed all of this to begin as soon as he was physically able to take it. Once Seth could be moved, Laurie would have in place the best facility in southern Florida. He assumed Miami would be suitable, but he would look northward if necessary. As soon as Seth was strong enough, the appropriate doctor would be waiting.

Laurie's heart pounded, for this was the first time he felt so close to a cure. Although, he sighed, gazing at his now sleeping cousin, Seth teetered over a precipice. While wellness was in sight, if they didn't reach it soon, Seth would fall into a valley of.... The valley of death, from where Laurie could never retrieve him. Now that notion gave Laurie chills, although just hours ago Laurie had allowed the idea, unpleasant yes, but certainly not the worst. Suddenly to lose Seth was akin to turning one's head to another victim of Nazi terrorism. Laurie wouldn't share any of this with Stanford; he didn't have the capacity to understand. Maybe with Eric, Laurie permitted. Eric would be receptive both as an artist, and Laurie smiled, as a Christian, even one newly minted. And maybe Eric could relay this to Sam, who would understand as a solider and Catholic. For the first time, Laurie grasped at his religion, not as a balm but a strength. He needed to talk to Sheila's relatives, especially the woman who had unwittingly brought them all to this place. But Laurie didn't mean a stark Miami hospital room. Laurie was on ground zero, but the space was shrinking even as he stood there. He needed to find a safe spot for Seth to rest. Then hopefully, if God was willing, they would move forward from there.

Laurie stayed at Seth's bedside for another hour. They spoke little, but shared brief squeezes, during which Laurie hoped to give Seth some relief. Once Seth was sleeping, Laurie drove back to Mickey and Sheila's. He called his aunt, telling Wilma to stay where she was, but asking her to look into the doctors in Vermont; were they Jewish? Then Laurie spoke to his mother, noting that he would be in Miami for the unforeseeable future. Rose pestered him for details, but he had none to give her, other than he felt Seth would be best treated in the South. After that he ate lunch, then called Stanford. That conversation was stilted, although Laurie longed to open his heart. He didn't, not merely because of propriety; there was no way for Laurie to explain all that needed to be relayed. Even if Stanford was Jewish he still might not want to know; Laurie wasn't sure his mom and aunt could fully comprehend what now seemed so obvious. Stanford sighed that Laurie didn't have a firm date to return, but he didn't want Laurie to rush. They ended their conversation on a rather formal note, but later Laurie would write to Stanford, telling him how much he loved him. That notion Laurie was eager to share.

During the afternoon, Laurie napped fitfully on the guest bed. He woke still feeling lethargic, but having accepted his presence would be for the duration, he didn't mind the weariness. For how long had Seth suffered a more debilitating fatigue, as if every breath was taken in vain? No wonder he couldn't sculpt; how had he managed to even get through the day? Laurie didn't ponder more than that; to do so would be flirting with the kind of neurosis that he now had to fight with every manner possible. Other than shock therapy, Laurie would permit even the most novel treatments. But he hoped that traditional counseling sessions would start to give Seth peace. Other than at Thanksgiving, Seth had never talked about what troubled him. Perhaps his torment had so many triggers, or that they were rooted in such catastrophe, but if not dealt with now, Seth would die. Laurie took a shower, washing off sleep and sweat and the sense of helplessness. That had dogged him for too long; he needed to be fresh and sharp. As he dressed, again in shorts and a t-shirt, he smiled, wishing that Stanford was there. They wouldn't talk about Seth, but around Stanford Laurie could express very significant emotions. Of course they wouldn't stay at the Goldsmiths' house. They would have two rooms at a hotel. But the closeness would bolster Laurie, even if he had to stay tight-lipped about other issues.

He found his aunt and uncle in the living room, watching television. Sheila stood, then asked if he was hungry. Laurie noted that indeed he was, and he chuckled inwardly as he followed her to the kitchen. Food was a cure-all, or at least it was to a Jewish mother. Sam Ahern might agree, and Laurie wished for some of Sam's pork chops. Laurie might leave Miami with a deeper appreciation for his heritage, but he could never go Kosher. Sam's talent with a chop was too magical.

As Sheila filled a plate, Laurie sat at the table, staring aimlessly into the room. He would live in this house until Seth was well or.... Maybe Stanford would visit, the time apart wouldn't be easy on either of them. Laurie would have to inform his clients, but fortunately no exhibits were scheduled. The rest of summer had only offered a trip westward and Laurie did lament missing that event. Would Stanford go alone, or maybe Michael would accompany him. Stan might not want to leave the East Coast, but Laurie hoped that he would travel west, if only to fill empty time. Laurie didn't think he'd be leaving Florida soon. He had several tasks to perform, the first being to speak to Sheila's cousin. Laurie couldn't recall her name and he wasn't sure for how much longer she was visiting. Sheila set a plate in front of him, making Laurie grin. Potato salad and three deviled eggs bordered several slices of cold chicken, making Laurie's stomach rumble. Sheila then brought him a glass of iced tea. "It's sweet," she said. "I hope that's all right."

"This looks wonderful. Thank you so much." Laurie dug in and while Sheila didn't join him at the table, she made several stops, asking if he needed more. Laurie ate every bite, then gladly accepted a slice of pineapple upside down cake. It wasn't comparable to the treats in Brooklyn, but satisfied his sweet tooth. He finished the tea, then sat back, wondering how much weight he would put on. He would have to walk in the mornings, when it was cool. Then Sheila returned. "Mind if I join you?" she asked.

He motioned to the chair across. "That was absolutely delicious. I had no idea I was so hungry."

"It was just leftovers. Too hot to cook anything today." She smiled. "Well, I did bake early this morning. Mickey loves upside down cake. Although...." She paused, then gazed intently at Laurie. "He says Wilma makes this chocolate cake their mother always baked. Says that Rose doesn't have the recipe." Sheila clasped her hands together, placing them on the table. She gazed around the room as if looking for something. "You think Wilma might give me the recipe?"

Laurie fought a belly laugh, but a chuckle did escape. "To tell you the truth, Aunt Wilma's going to the grave with that one. I don't think she'll give it to her daughters."

Sheila stared at Laurie. "Not even to her own girls?"

Laurie nodded. "She'd worry one of them would break down and give it to Mom."

Sheila rolled her eyes. "Well goodness. Hmmm. That seems a little, well...." Sheila smiled, then removed her hands from the table. "Well, thank God Mickey prefers upside down cake." She glanced at the kitchen doorway, nodding her head. Then she looked at Laurie. "I hope you like pineapple."

"It was the perfect dessert." He smiled broadly, then patted his stomach for effect. "The tea too. Suppose that's the ideal southern beverage."

"Oh, it's southern all right." Sheila grinned. "We drink a lot of it, but my aunts and uncles never did get into it. They prefer water, no ice." She made a face, then shrugged her shoulders. "Sort of plain, but if it makes them happy, who am I to say?"

Her tone suggested that she made that excuse often. When Seth was better, Laurie would ask if who am I to say was one of Sheila's catchphrases. The words had slipped from her tongue like she said them countless times a day, also like she was living in two worlds. Laurie felt a door had been opened and he gently cleared his throat as if a few crumbs were caught. He drained what remained in his glass, only melted ice water, but it washed down the imaginary crumbs. "So Aunt Sheila, what can you tell me about, oh goodness, I can't remember her name."

Laurie used a voice he sometimes employed with his mother or aunt about a distant relative, generally offered as a show of respect. Yet Seth's very life hinged upon this information and Laurie had to start gathering it as quickly as he could.

Now Sheila fidgeted, again placing her clasped hands upon the table. "Cousin Norah, you mean."

"I think that's her. She hasn't been in Miami long, correct?"

Sheila sighed, then cracked her knuckles. "Just a couple of months. She's leaving in a few days, been staying with Aunt Deb. She's not really related to me, I mean, she's a distant cousin, you know."

Laurie nodded. Sheila spoke as if she was guilty by association, but it wasn't her fault that Seth was in the hospital. Nor was it this Norah's fault either. "She's visiting from Jerusalem or from...."

"She lives there, uh-huh. But she's from...." Now Sheila paused and Laurie had to fight a smile. She reminded him of Renee when she had spoken the lord's name in vain and needed to cross herself. She did that often, or at least Laurie had caught her doing it the last time he'd been at the Snyders. That had been for Jane's baptism, but Renee had probably done it over the St. Patrick's Day weekend when Jane was born. Then Laurie sighed; the last time he'd been west wasn't for the baptism, but Eric's show. Yet that trip had carried a heavy sorrow, no wonder he'd blocked it. Jane's birth and baptism were far happier events, and Laurie wished he could be in two places at once. But when Seth was better, then Laurie could spend time in the Snyders' garden, sharing pie with not only one little girl, but maybe two. Or a tiny boy, who probably wouldn't look like Seth. Eric and Lynne's children would possess different features, making Laurie smile, then he frowned; Sheila had kept talking, but he hadn't paid attention. What about this Norah had he missed, hopefully nothing important. Where she was from in Germany mattered little, he assumed she was German. But her identity was steeped in their shared Jewish culture. Or perhaps culture was too intimate. Laurie's life had few claims on Norah's, other than both were Jewish. Had she spent time in a labor camp or had she found a safe way out of Europe? He shuddered to think she'd been incarcerated, but it was certainly possible.

"Anyways," Sheila continued, "they spent a lot of time together. Of course she feels bad, but it's not her fault. He's...." Sheila raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. "No offense Laurie, but he needs professional help or shock therapy. I hear it works wonders."

Laurie gazed sharply at her. "It didn't do anything for him before."

"Well, maybe they did it differently up there." Disdain edged her tone, as if up there indicated more than a geographic location. Treatment by non-Jews was what she meant, but maybe she was right. Seth might be better served by a doctor steeped in Jewish issues as well as educated in psychiatric healing.

"If nothing else," Sheila mused, "Norah knows there's someone worse off than her. I mean, she's managed to come to terms with everything. This must have something to do with his time in Korea." Sheila cracked her knuckles again, then wore a relieved smile. She nodded for added effect. "He never should've enlisted. I'm surprised Wilma let him."

"Seth made that decision himself. There wasn't anything Aunt Wilma could've done to stop him." Laurie's tone was firm. All of them had advised Seth to reconsider his plan, but he was free, white, and over twenty-one, what some men in the family had noted, often in Laurie's hearing. The phrase had carried a double meaning, but Laurie had ignored those insults. He also felt that while serving in the army hadn't been helpful, that stint didn't account for what Seth now suffered, or not fully. Then Laurie took a deep breath. "Aunt Sheila, what exactly happened to Norah?"

If Sheila had mentioned it, Laurie had been distracted. But in how she again fidgeted, not meeting his gaze, Laurie knew she had glossed over that detail. He stared at her until she finally met his eyes. Hers were teary, making him sweat. But he had to know; Seth's life depended on this information.

"She's a survivor, from Auschwitz." Sheila's voice was flat, but tears rolled down her cheeks. "She made it to Bergen-Belsen, God only knows how. She never talks about it, but he saw her tattoo. I guess she felt he might understand, or maybe he just kept asking her about it. He spent a lot of time at Aunt Deb's, at first I thought maybe he and Norah, you know...." Sheila permitted a brief smile, then shook her head. "I told him maybe he needed to take a break, maybe we could drive up to Orlando or Tampa even, get away for a bit." She paused, but this time Laurie paid attention. Sheila leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "I thought he'd do better down here, around his family." She said family like all of their religion was bound within one word. "But now, huh." She stared around the room as if seeking answers. Then she met Laurie's gaze. "Norah was one of a handful, a basic handful that lived. How many were lost, oh my God." Sheila shook her head. "She went from Auschwitz to Mittelbau to Bergen-Belsen, three camps, three camps!" Sheila raised her arms, gesturing to nothing in particular. "Three camps," she repeated, "and she's fine. So what if she doesn't wanna talk about it? Who wants to hear about it, you know?"

Laurie gazed about the room, comfort all around him. He couldn't fathom the horrors Norah had suffered, but Seth had needed to hear about them. What had Norah told him, or maybe it was merely the tattoo that she would always display. Laurie wasn't sure if he wanted to speak to her, he didn't wish to upset her. More important to him was how Seth had absorbed her trials.

Laurie didn't say anything as words seemed useless. He stood, then pulled out the chair beside his aunt, sitting next to her. Embracing the shaking, weeping woman, Laurie noticed how his uncle didn't join them. Sheila wasn't quiet, but Laurie didn't mind comforting her. At least she wept, and he did too. They would never understand such misery, maybe they weren't meant to. But if Seth had felt that was his calling, enlisting in the army hadn't been the way to go forward. In fact, Laurie thought, still cradling his trembling aunt, it had been the wrong road. How to set Seth on the right path was another uncertain hurdle, but now Laurie had some sense of direction. The trail was dark and rocky, but he would stick it out. He could do nothing less and he sighed, then prayed for guidance. If God had brought Norah out of three death camps, maybe he could work a similar miracle for the man Laurie loved.
Chapter 116

Stirring from sleep, Seth could hear Laurie's inhalations. Seth wasn't sure how many days Laurie had been in Miami; in one way time had ceased to matter from the moment Seth spotted Norah's tattoo. He wasn't exactly sure when she'd received it, although he knew those numbers had been issued in Poland. He'd read so much about Auschwitz, the name seemed arbitrary. She'd never said where else she might have been confined, not while they made love at various motels or while walking through the Myersons' neighborhood as dusk turned into the darkest night. Yet those digits were unique to her. Her name was Norah Wasserman and for the rest of her life her history would be displayed in green ink, never erased by time.

Yet now time moved along in a blinding fashion, which was different to Seth's previous lapses into depression. The tattoo had become a fixation for him, and while initially he'd tried not to stare at it, it had been impossible to ignore. For after the party, Norah didn't attempt to hide it, or she hadn't around him. Seth never asked if she wore sleeveless dresses during the day, but her arms were bare every evening they walked together. And on the nights he took her to a motel, after they were behind the locked door, she wore absolutely nothing. They made love countless times, but Seth's attention wasn't merely focused upon her sensuality. Once again he had access to why and yet.... How often had he traced over those numerals, but Norah hadn't spoken. There was nothing for her to say, other than whispering his name as if he might forget it. For a while he had; shock therapy had erased a vile truth, but the tattoo had reminded him of why. Seth blinked, the overhead light was bright. Then Laurie cleared his throat, making Seth flinch. Laurie scraped the chair legs against the tile, but that sound didn't bother Seth. He knew it troubled Laurie, then Seth shook his head. He wanted his cousin to go home. There was nothing more Laurie could do.

Initially Seth had been surprised to wake yet again in another hospital. He wasn't certain how doctors had revived him, but at least his mother wasn't there, he didn't want to hurt her. He wanted this to end, because it wasn't going to stop any other way. Norah couldn't soothe his mind, her tattoo wouldn't be forgotten, and Seth was tired. Never before had the end beckoned so clearly, and while suicide might be immoral compared to the tattoo, death was the only manner possible for Seth to not think anymore. He'd spent all of his adult life hiding from why and what did it matter now; the tattoo was permanent, he couldn't sculpt, and here was Laurie again trailing after him. Seth smiled, feeling so much older than his cousin. He'd felt older than Norah too, another quandary. He felt.... "Laurie, go home," he muttered. Then Seth took a deep breath. The oxygen settled within his chest in holes desperate for air. Yet, as he exhaled, guilt and emptiness overwhelmed. If Laurie did leave, Seth would have no one to consider.

Laurie smiled, then shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere unless you get off your keister and kick me out."

Seth smiled, but the pain associated with that mirth was crushing. He didn't try to hide the agony because Laurie thought he knew the cause. Laurie had spent much of.... Was it yesterday or the day before, but then time truly held no meaning. Laurie had told Seth many things, much of it related to why Seth was in that hospital, and that once he was discharged, Laurie was going to take him to a place where doctors could properly care for him. Was Laurie aware of how many times he'd used the word properly, like he'd found a cure? But there was no cure, because now Seth remembered. As Norah would die with her tattoo, Seth would never forget why he'd enlisted, and there was nothing Laurie could do about that either.

Now Laurie grasped Seth's left hand. Laurie's skin was warm, but then it was hot all the time. Why had Norah come to Florida in summer, Seth wondered, then he closed his eyes. She was here now so he could.... She was his way out. Seth just needed half an hour alone. He would reopen these wounds and.... Laurie offered a strong squeeze, which made Seth ache. Why wouldn't Laurie let him go, why did he feel so responsible? There was nothing Laurie could do, damn him. But Seth was too weak to take back his hand and while he hated admitting it, Laurie's grip was calming. Seth had never wanted to hurt Laurie in this process. But pain and loss were relative, because Norah had never asked for her tattoo, and sometimes Seth wondered if she felt as he did. She had survived, but why?

Suddenly Seth shivered and managed to wrest his hand from Laurie's. The blue barn again popped into Seth's head, a painting he loved, but no longer wished to consider. Why had Eric painted it, not that Seth wondered how; it had been another of Eric's flights as a hawk. But when he was again a man, why had he chosen to depict that particular scene? Seth ached deeply; he had refused pain medication. But the soreness of his arms had nothing on the wrenching within his chest, bound in the love he felt for Laurie and the guilt. And for how easily it seemed that Eric could excise his demons by placing them on canvas. And how beautifully he had done so; how many were truly aware of the outstanding majesty of that blue barn and all who were held safely within it?

Now Seth struggled to sit up, he didn't want that image in his mind. He wanted this to end, his life and Laurie's devotion and.... "Get me out of here," he said with as much strength as he could. Then he laughed. "Oh God, just leave. Please, I can't take this anymore."

As Seth looked up, Laurie was merely a foot away. They stared at each other and Seth wanted to cry. His cousin's green eyes were awash in tears, which poured down Laurie's cheeks, falling onto his collar. Laurie grasped Seth's hands, not bothering to wipe his face. "I won't leave you."

Laurie's plaintive voice made Seth shake his head. "You can't do anything. Whatdya think you can do, huh?"

Now Laurie stroked Seth's face. "I can't leave, okay?" Then Laurie chuckled, finally brushing away tears that still fell. "I'm stuck to the goddamn chair."

Seth stared at his cousin; Laurie wore shorts, maybe he was telling the truth. "Wear pants next time."

"Too hot," Laurie smiled. Then he leaned back. "Do you really wanna die?"

Seth nodded, then gazed at Laurie, who had never spoken so blatantly. "You know I do. Don't know why I keep screwing it up though."

"I don't think God wants you dead."

Seth stared long and hard at the man beside him. "God huh?" Seth snorted, then gazed at the wall. "God doesn't care about...."

"Seth, why are you still alive?"

No one had ever asked him that question, although Seth had certainly pondered it. But he never attached any sacred purpose to it. He had no assumptions to his continued state of being, fragile or somewhat manageable, artistic or plebian. He looked back at his cousin, a man with so many reasons for joy. Stanford was at the top of Laurie's list, then his work, their family, the Snyders.... Seth had to include those people because of Eric's paintings at Caffey-Miller as well as the blue barn. And the hawks, so many hawks, but Laurie didn't know about those. If he did, maybe he'd be in the same state as Seth, one step away from....

"I don't know why I'm here. I don't wanna be." Not even the blue barn soothed the pain anymore. Once that canvas had been shipped to Europe, Seth had felt a disconnection, the first time he'd noticed that particular ache. Maybe being on the same continent as that painting had eased Seth, but now it was far away, all those people inside returned to soil they never imagined revisiting. Then Seth laughed. He was crazy, his life was ridiculous. Men didn't turn into hawks; they killed people in death camps or on battlefields. Laurie's devotion was irrelevant, nothing meant anything, all life was....

Again Laurie had gripped Seth's hand, but this time Laurie grasped with purpose. "I can't let you die. Too much's been wasted. If you really wanna end it, you're gonna have to do it after I'm dead. Maybe that's unfair, but damnit, I will not sit back and let you kill yourself. I love you too much and I know you're still in there. You have so much to give, to do, to...."

Seth had closed his eyes long before Laurie stopped speaking. The urge to create was like a blocked memory that surprisingly still flickered. For the last few years that gleam had been associated with the barn, like Eric was holding it, alongside the rest, for safekeeping. But Seth didn't feel that spark anymore. Norah's tattoo had been like a mirror, making Seth feel sick inside. He felt that way now, considering all she had suffered alongside what he had inflicted. Then Seth blinked; those months in Minnesota had been a brief reprieve, Eric's two paintings a balm upon Seth's parched soul. And on his scorched mind, which had enabled him to fashion the figurines within the hospital. Seth gazed at his hands, which weren't covered in gauze. How had these appendages been used for such contrasting tasks, to create and to murder?

Opening his eyes, he looked toward his window. Several small birds perched upon the sill outside, pecking along the building. "Laurie, who knows I'm here?"

Laurie looked startled by the question. "Uh, just family. Why?"

"Only our family?"

Laurie raised his eyebrows, but so slightly, Seth wasn't sure Laurie realized he'd done it. "I talked to Eric Snyder about it. I think he was gonna tell Sam Ahern." Laurie sighed, then flashed the hint of a smile. "I'm sure they told their wives. But other than them and whoever Mom and Aunt Wilma told, I can't say."

Seth nodded, then gazed back at the birds. "How did Eric take it?"

Laurie didn't answer immediately and Seth kept staring at the window. Laurie cracked his knuckles, then sighed. "He was pretty upset to be truthful. I haven't spoken to him since. I should call him, although there's not much to add. Stan's probably talked to him in the interim."

Seth nodded, still keeping his face from Laurie's view. Seth wore a crooked smile, his thoughts somewhat mischievous. Never before had he pondered such a notion, but what if one of those creatures wasn't merely a bird? Would Eric fly all the way to Florida, could he even? "Laurie, what month is it?"

"What? Um, June, I think." Then Laurie chuckled. "Could be October for all I know."

Now Seth turned to face Laurie, finding a twinkle in his cousin's eyes. The brightness teased, as if daring Seth to match even a fraction of the hope Laurie possessed. How could he be so optimistic, Seth wondered. But if not for that expectation, Laurie would have gone back to New York by now. Seth didn't lament his mother and sisters' absences; they'd had the good sense to stay in Brooklyn. This man had flown all the way to Miami, but would he be the only one?

He would on a plane, Seth permitted. Then Seth cracked a smile, he couldn't help it. "Laurie, what'd Eric say to you, about me, I mean."

Laurie inhaled, then exhaled slowly. "He said that he and Lynne were praying for you. And that he wanted to be kept informed. I really should call him. Stan doesn't need to play intermediary."

"What'll you tell him?"

"What should I tell him?" Laurie smiled.

Seth stared at his arms, then to the window, where now no birds waited. He kept his gaze there, but spoke forcefully. "Tell him...." It was a gamble, Seth accepted, maybe not worth Seth's time. But perhaps he owed himself, and Laurie, one last chance. And while Eric couldn't actually tell Seth how he painted the blue barn, wouldn't it be strange to see a hawk appearing wherever Seth ended up next. Could it happen, he wondered. "Tell him the truth. Or tell him whatever you want, I guess." Seth shivered, then looked at his cousin. "I really don't know him, so whatever you feel's best."

"I think you know him better than you let on. He certainly knows you well enough. He knew the figurines were yours right off the bat, although he had no idea you'd done them so long ago."

Seth nodded, then closed his eyes. He could recall the day he formed those sculptures, probably in the same manner that Laurie always claimed he remembered the day Seth was brought home from the hospital. Maybe Seth's recollections were more acceptable; he'd been a teenager at the time, but many memories were lost due to shock therapy. However the man and woman, she in her skirt, he with that bad foot, were indelibly woven through Seth. He'd created them in a brief flash of exuberance, like a master's hands were using his. Other beautiful pieces had followed up to the time when Seth decided to enlist. He couldn't recall the other figures, but that one couple he would forever remember. The day he forgot them, he sighed, would truly be the end of his life.

He opened his eyes, seeing one small bird on the sill. If Eric came, Seth wouldn't be at this hospital. Would Eric find him or would he locate Laurie, then follow him to wherever Seth resided. Was it fair to take Eric from his family, but none of this held any rational claim on equity. All of it was madness, it was....

Laurie now blocked Seth's view of the window. He knelt between the bed and wall, grabbing Seth's right hand. "You still have the power to create. I know it was years ago, but that hasn't been lost. It's trapped here, where you are. I just want you to be free."

Laurie had placed his hand on Seth's chest, bringing a fleeting peace to Seth's pounding heart. Seth wanted to nod, he did wish to be.... How could he ever know real peace? Yet years ago he'd been happy; he could recall that sensation like it was yesterday. Those hands upon his, invisible to all, had gently but purposefully molded dead lumps into living people. Had the same hands been laid upon Norah in Auschwitz, keeping her alive?

Seth shook, but wasn't aware. He wept, but had no idea. Only Laurie's hug told him something had altered. Laurie now sat on the mattress, his arms like those guiding hands, but Laurie's embrace held together an actual human being. Seth continued to tremble, now wanting to beg Laurie not to call Eric. But Seth couldn't speak, so deep were his cries. The bird remained on the windowsill, seemingly unbothered, until one loud howl drove it away.
Chapter 117

When Laurie called the Snyders that afternoon, Eric was away, but Lynne took the message, which wasn't more than Laurie wanted to speak to Eric when he had some free time. Lynne relayed that her husband was at the Aherns', sketching Sam and the Chevy, but that he'd call Laurie when he got home. Laurie asked Lynne how she was feeling, and they chatted briefly. Then Laurie closed the call, again thanking Lynne for her prayers. He didn't mention Eric in that sentence, which made Lynne smile as she placed the receiver back in the cradle. Even a man as free spirited as Laurie Abrams still considered religion a woman's preoccupation.

Lynne pondered that as she made Jane's lunch, then ate her own. Lynne purposefully didn't mull over what Laurie wanted to tell Eric; it would have little bearing on a man already with one foot out the door. Since Stanford's call, Lynne had been mentally prepared for her husband to bolt from their home, his return unknown. Hopefully Eric would be back before Christmas, but for how debilitated Seth was, Lynne wouldn't harbor any timetables. She was feeling less weepy, which had been a surprise. Perhaps that initial symptom would have by now disappeared regardless of Stanford's news. Or maybe Lynne had steeled herself for what she, Eric, Sam, and Renee knew was inevitable. Even Marek seemed aware, for he had spent considerable time with Eric after church last Sunday, and had invited the Snyders to St. Matthew's for supper. They had declined the invite; Eric only left their house to sketch Sam. Lynne expected that after today, Eric would have enough drawings to start that painting. But its completion wasn't a given, at least not right now. The only tangible notions Lynne could grasp were the child clamoring for more food and the one within her stirring a mother's nausea.

But morning sickness was also abating; Lynne felt this pregnancy was easier than how Jane's life had started, which alleviated some of the surrounding restlessness. Eric was edgy, working non-stop on the Queens' series during the day, then painting Lynne's portraits in the evening once Jane was asleep. He even managed to capture their daughter at suppertime, Jane smiling in her high chair as Eric's food grew cold. Lynne didn't scold him; he was attempting to juggle as many projects as was feasible, and now that included the risky venture of stepping outside the privacy of their property. Yet he hadn't wanted to paint Sam at any other location; Eric needed to do this work in front of the Aherns' home as if reclaiming his humanity. Lynne hadn't argued with him, actually they spoke very little, but now she had something to tell him, and she wondered how he would react concerning Laurie's rather vague message. It was as if Laurie was again speaking in code, the way Lynne used to discern within his letters what he couldn't write. As Jane began to quiet, Lynne prayed for two men in Florida. She didn't bother to inquire if Eric would soon join them.

After laying down Jane for a nap, Lynne tidied the kitchen, then sat on the sofa. She closed her eyes, but even though sleep beckoned, many thoughts kept her awake. She peered around the room; a few letters had arrived and while Lynne had left them out for Eric to see, most likely they would be added to the growing pile in the office upstairs. For a few days Eric had let the mail gather on the dining table, as if he had plans to answer those notes. Then Lynne moved them all upstairs, no use for them to take up space or weigh on Eric's mind. Lynne had considered asking if he wanted her to reply in his stead, but then she would get distracted, an item not essential. When they spoke, only necessary details were shared. When he came home today, however, she would mention it. Lynne assumed that after Eric called Laurie, there might be little time left for a husband and wife to do more than make love.

Intimacy had taken precedence when Eric wasn't painting. If Jane was asleep, the couple was in bed, and Lynne ached, thinking about sleeping alone. Well, she wasn't truly solitary, as a slight wave of nausea rolled through her. Then she smiled, unable to keep that joy hidden. This sojourn would be hardest on the one absent. This time Lynne had plenty to keep her company.

She laid her palm over her belly; she wasn't showing, but how quickly had this child muscled his or her way into Lynne's consciousness. Perhaps that was how second pregnancies went for any woman. Lynne had been in denial when Jane was first conceived, but now a mother relished even the unpleasant moments, although Lynne rarely vomited. And now that she wasn't so prone to tearful outbursts, then Lynne sighed. Maybe after Eric left, those unstable eruptions would return. But if they did, those closest to her would understand. She hadn't considered excusing Eric's absence to their St. Matthew's acquaintances. If they asked, she would tell them he was on a painting sabbatical, what she planned to tell Fran Canfield as well. Lynne didn't ponder any more than that, no use fretting needlessly.

She closed her eyes, then drifted to sleep, dreaming of stacks of mail collecting on the table. Lynne woke to her husband's soft voice, finding his smile as she opened her eyes. Eric looked refreshed and for a moment Lynne forgot all that swirled around them. Then she noticed wrinkles around his eyes; were they new? She stroked his cheek, which was ruddy from all the time he'd spent in the studio, and maybe from the last few days sketching Sam. Then she shivered; soon enough he'd be out in the elements. She needed to tell him about Laurie's phone call. But first, Lynne permitted her husband's affections.

Eric didn't speak as he sat beside her, then wrapped her against him. Lynne closed her eyes again, feeling as if she was melting into him, he was so warm. His kisses landed along her face, then her neck, while his hands traveled along her back, gentle caresses that felt as though they had all the time in the world. Maybe they were back in New York, maybe they were college students again. Lynne felt that unfettered as Eric tenderly reminded her how deep were his feelings for her. If not for Jane sleeping overhead, Lynne imagined Eric would strip the clothes both were wearing and make love to her right on the sofa.

Lynne maneuvered herself into a reclined position and Eric lay atop her, but neither attempted to undress. They necked passionately, making Lynne forget that she was expecting a second child, much less was a mother already. As she made overtures for intercourse, Eric complied, but clothes still acted as a barrier. Lynne didn't mind; they had made out in this manner when they first met, yet after he told her about turning into a hawk, she had spurned him until witnessing that event. Then they had made love, needing to seal a pact that Eric had never dreamed was possible. Lynne had fully imagined falling in love, getting married, and having a family, but Eric had never considered those possibilities.

As they continued fooling around, Lynne didn't think about Seth and Laurie; she focused on the reality that had indeed come true for the man she loved. Yet, that other part of his existence, dormant for ages, was hovering. Eric began to unbutton Lynne's blouse and she tried to concentrate on his actions, those of a normal human man. They were married and loved one another desperately. Eric was quite needy and Lynne was too. If Jane stirred, Lynne chuckled inwardly, it would be Eric to head up the stairs, for he was still dressed.

But Jane remained asleep as her parents delved further into their shared passions. Eric didn't remove his clothing, only his wife's. Lynne accepted her husband's generosity, wondering when she could reciprocate. Perhaps they would forgo the roles of artist and model that evening, especially after the telephone call that Lynne knew needed to take place. Maybe after speaking to Laurie, Eric would then spend the rest of the night allowing Lynne to display her emotions. Those feelings ran so deeply within her, culminating in the baby she carried. She climaxed to that notion, weeping tears of joy and gratitude. Eric wiped her face, then lay upon her, kissing her cheeks. "I love you baby," he whispered, brushing aside stray hairs. "Oh Lynne, I love you so much."

She nodded, unable to speak, yet for how many more days and nights would they be able to love like this, for how long would they be separated? While she rued his probable absence, Lynne was grateful to be aware. She immediately gave thanks for such oddities, then she smiled. "When can we continue this?"

"I'd say right now," Eric laughed, "but as soon as we go up those stairs, someone will hear us. Tonight, oh my God, as soon as she's in her crib."

Lynne giggled, then bit her lip. She wanted to tell him about Laurie's call, but didn't want to lose the lightness of that moment. "How did the sketching go?" she asked instead.

Eric sighed, then chuckled. "Well, I did change his pose. He put his hands in his pockets for about two seconds, which gave me just enough time to put that on paper. Better than how he's had his arms over his chest the last two days."

Lynne nodded, imagining Sam making that slight adjustment but not thinking Eric would catch it. "Are you done, with the sketching I mean?"

"Yeah. He was making noises that the next few days were gonna be busy. But that's okay. I can start painting tomorrow, see how it goes."

She nodded, then stroked his face. He looked aged, but maybe it was all that time in the sun. Then she began to cry, unsure if her tears were hormonal or from.... "Eric, Laurie called earlier. He wants you to call him back."

Silence permeated the room; if Jane woke, her shouts would sound like gongs, Lynne considered. Eric didn't blink, his eyes wide. Lynne shut hers for a moment and when she opened them, Eric had closed his. He took several deep breaths, but didn't move away. "What did he say?" Eric asked in a somber tone.

"Just that he wanted to speak to you. That was it, so I really don't know more than that."

Eric nodded, then opened his eyes. He moved away from Lynne, sitting at the end of the sofa. Lynne didn't move, as if she was posing for him; he looked at her the way he did when she was stretched over the chaise lounge or how she used to lay on the studio couch. He didn't meet her gaze, but all of his focus was upon her. Lynne stared at his eyes, which were wide, taking in all he possibly could.

She wondered what he was thinking; he wasn't considering painting her portrait, far more to ponder than his craft. Was he mulling over how far he had to fly, the season ahead, or was he simply trying to maintain his humanity. Years before, when he knew a departure was imminent, he'd attempted to remain as a man by sheer force of will. He'd never found success; his alterations were beyond his capacity to control. This one was no different, but the scope would surpass any previous trip. Florida was all the way across the country and while it was summer now, maybe Lynne wouldn't see her husband again until next spring. Their baby would have arrived; he would miss that event, not to mention how much Jane would change. Suddenly Lynne understood the weight of Eric's regrets. He didn't want to go, not even if it meant improving Seth's mental health. No reason existed to appease Eric, not a single one.

Lynne leaned up, sitting on her skirt. She was completely nude, how had Eric removed all of her apparel? He had loved her so thoroughly as though he knew Laurie had called, that this disruption was imminent. Would Lynne have one more opportunity to make love with her husband? If she did, she wanted to leave him so breathless and sated that for those moments this part of his life was erased. Was that possible, she wondered, grasping his hand, which felt cool to the touch. Maybe not even she had that ability.

"I love you." Her tone was soft, but laced with all the fortitude she could muster. Yet, there was nothing more to add, for those three words translated the weight of all her affections. He nodded, then gripped her hand forcefully. Then he brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. She blinked away tears; how precious was this man, and how human he was. He was still a human being, but for how much longer?

She didn't consider how a lengthy absence would affect him; Sam knew what do to when Eric returned and Marek could be called in as back-up. Renee might be taking care of Lynne and a newborn, maybe. Lynne briefly mulled over those options. Then she set them aside. "Eric, lay down."

He stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me. If Jane wakes, I'll get her."

He fought a smile. "You don't have any clothes on."

"And in a minute, neither will you. Now lay down and...." Lynne kissed him in a manner that brooked no argument. "We might not have much time," she added, catching her breath.

How much time wasn't broached as Eric complied with his wife's wishes. The couple didn't use words as Lynne displayed her affections. Jane slept through that encounter, then napped a little longer as Eric wrapped Lynne close, expending some of his grief. By the time a little girl awoke, her mother was fixing pie crust while her father sat at the patio table, studying sketches that might or might not find their way onto canvas. Lynne knew that for however long Eric remained with them, painting might fall by the wayside, unless it was a portrait of the family Eric was destined to leave behind.
Chapter 118

For two days Eric worked in the studio, but his efforts produced mixed results. Initially he had situated Sam with that man's hands shoved in his pockets. But Eric painted over that pose, returning Sam's arms to guarding his chest. Yet, as Lynne studied the canvas, she noted to her husband how she could still see the afterimage of Sam's hands thrust into his jeans' front pockets. Eric agreed, then he started outlining the Chevy, and by the end of the second afternoon much of the car was detailed. Lynne and Jane had joined Eric in the studio and Lynne wondered when Eric returned if he would scrap this canvas and start over. Yet, she said nothing, watching her husband frantically yet unsuccessfully attempt to bring to life a painting he'd been longing to create. As he set down his brushes, Eric remarked that tomorrow he wanted to spend the day in the garden. Lynne nodded, then took Jane to the house to start the evening meal.

That night Marek stopped by, his presence a welcome distraction. He told stories of again being on Mrs. Harmon's bad side; weeds were infiltrating the flower beds as if Marek's position wasn't more than the church gardener. Lynne heard weariness in the pastor's tone and she wasn't sure how much was to do with a fussy meddler or Eric's pensive mood. When Eric asked Marek to take a walk outside, Lynne noted how her pastor moved slowly from his chair, his steps like lead weights had been attached to his feet. The men didn't return until it was dark outside and Jane was almost asleep. Marek blew her a kiss as Lynne took the baby upstairs. When a mother left the nursery, she found the office light shining down the hallway. The pastor and Eric were again in deep discussion, over what Lynne assumed were some of the recent letters from Scandinavian. She had made out postmarks from Norway, but maybe Marek could better discern those that neither Lynne nor Eric could distinguish.

That morning Eric had spoken to Stanford strictly about the exhibit, which was moving soon to Sweden. How fluent was Marek in those tongues, Lynne wondered, as she went downstairs into the kitchen. She started the dishes and by the time the drainer was full, Marek stepped into the room. "Your husband's right behind me," Marek smiled. "My goodness that's a lot of post to answer."

Lynne nodded, then glanced at the clock; it was nearly ten p.m. Usually Marek didn't stay so late, but Lynne didn't question it. "I asked yesterday if he wanted me to act as secretary, he said he wasn't sure." She didn't mind saying something so blatant to Marek; in a way, Lynne relished being able to speak about what was coming. Never before had she been given the opportunity to do so.

Before rumbled through her head, then she smiled, walking toward Marek, who stood near the table. He didn't know how this kitchen used to look, how the whole home had once appeared. But as he was privy to the biggest secret Eric and Lynne concealed, maybe Lynne expected that of course Marek could also view this residence with a similar gaze. Maybe he could imagine how Sam had stood in the smaller version of this room, dripping water on the linoleum, furious at how Lynne had convinced Renee that Eric turned into a....

"I suppose the letters will pile up," Marek said softly, interrupting Lynne's thoughts.

She smiled, then sighed. "I suppose they will. He told me not to worry about them. But I do feel bad for not replying."

"Don't fret over it. I'd wager that nearly all who send their regards aren't expecting the artist to answer them. They might not even imagine the letters would reach their destination. It's more of the need to respond to how moving are Eric's paintings. Unfortunately I'm hopeless with Scandinavian languages." Marek chuckled. "Once the tour goes south, I'll be more help again."

"Do you speak Italian?" Lynne asked.

"Yes," he smiled. "Spanish too, but my Portuguese is abysmal."

Lynne giggled. Eric had given the pastor the full itinerary, or that which remained. The tour had been extended, but as far as Lynne knew, the paintings were due back in America by the end of the year. She didn't consider where Eric might be then, instead she wondered if Stanford might arrange another New York showing. "I only speak English," she said. "I must say I feel quite limited."

"It's a gift," Marek smiled. "A blessing that I need to put into use actually. Eric gave me permission to read the letters, or those I could make out. But he insisted that neither of us were to answer them. He said we'd never get anything else accomplished."

Marek had gestured to Lynne as he spoke, as Eric had yet to return. Lynne nodded, then gazed to the kitchen doorway. The house was still, perhaps Eric had gone to check on Jane. Lynne didn't worry that he had altered, then fled. She would have heard him, and for some reason Lynne didn't think Marek needed to witness the transformation. He had no doubt to what was coming. It was simply a matter of time.

Then Lynne heard Eric's footsteps and she smiled as he entered the kitchen. He looked exhausted, but not pained. Marek's impromptu visit might be the last time these men saw each other. As the pastor gave his goodbye, Eric offered to walk him out. Marek waved him off, then kissed Lynne's cheek. He only shook Eric's hand, then grabbed a tin waiting on the edge of the counter. Half of a peach pie was covered by wax paper, as Marek had discovered a local outlet for fresh peaches. Lynne had frozen many, for Marek had bought an entire bushel. Sam and Renee had taken their share, but the bulk was meant for pies, now and all through autumn.

Lynne wasn't sure if by the time Eric returned any peaches would be left. Funny were the markers, she thought to herself, returning to the sink for the last forks and spoons in the tub. As she washed those utensils, Lynne considered various manners of counting the days. The coming baby would be the biggest indicator, but she didn't want to think of all that Eric would miss. Then he stepped to her side, squeezing her shoulders. "I'm going to bed," he said. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

She turned his way, fatigue evident by the bags under his eyes, lines around his mouth, and those etched in his brow. "I won't be long. I love you."

He smiled, then kissed her forehead. "I'll lock up. I love you too."

Lynne closed her eyes as he walked away, hearing him rattle the kitchen doorknob, then leave the room. Once he was gone, she took a deep breath, then opened her eyes, staring into gray dishwater. She cleaned out the tubs, propping them upside down in the sink. Then she headed to the doorway and turned off the light. Another day's work was done.

When she reached the bedroom, she found Eric wasn't in bed. He wasn't in their bathroom either. Lynne stepped out on the landing, but the hallway was dark, Jane's door shut. Then Lynne peered over the banister; was one of the French doors ajar? She went to investigate, and found that yes, it was. As she looked through the panes, she saw her husband sitting at the patio table.

Lynne stepped outside, making Eric turn her direction. "Oh, sorry," he said, standing from his chair. He met her, then wrapped her close. "I tried laying down, but my mind's a blur. I should've come into the kitchen, but...." He paused, then kissed her cheek. "I found myself staring at the door, that one pane's still noticeable. Not sure how, it's so dark out tonight. Lots of stars to see."

Lynne wanted to say that maybe Eric's vision was already changing. But she nodded, gripping him. Was he truly going away, maybe all of this with Seth was a hoax. They hadn't even met that man and she was pregnant and.... "Yeah," she warbled, unable to keep calm. "Lots of stars out tonight."

All evening, with Marek present, Lynne had felt in control. Now she began to cry, burying her face against Eric's warm shoulder. He patted her back, placing soothing words in her ears, but they sounded hollow. She wasn't sure if it was because of how he said them, or how she heard his missives. He would come home, he promised. He loved her and Jane and.... As he set one hand on her belly, Lynne started to bawl. Why, after so many years, was Eric being forcibly taken from their family?

Never before had Lynne needed to consider more than herself during his sojourns. She had weathered those absences perfectly fine, but now there were children in addition to Renee, Sam, and Marek. And while all those people would fill Lynne's mind and heart, her soul yearned for one man. Lynne wept hard for considering that; where was Jesus when she needed him?

"You won't be alone," Eric said in a whisper, his tone shaky. "Oh honey, I love you so much. I'm sorry baby, oh Lynne, don't cry."

"Why?" she mumbled, feeling guilty for her reservations. Then she pulled away, staring at her husband who, for as close as he stood, was hard to see in the dark. She caressed his face, finding she wasn't the only one so distressed. Tears had rolled down Eric's cheeks and she traced that dampness with her fingers. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make this harder on you."

"I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't have to...." He cleared his throat, then sighed. "I started to feel it tonight. We don't have much time left."

Fear rippled through Lynne, but she fought to not break into tears again. She also cleared her throat. "Where?"

"All over. That's why I didn't come down with Marek. I felt terrible, like I was gonna change while he was still here. He knew something was up, we'd been talking about the exhibit, and suddenly I stopped mid-sentence. He didn't ask what was wrong, God, he's so perceptive." Eric sighed. "He just got up, saying he was gonna check on you. I know you won't be alone this time and maybe that's supposed to help, but all I can think about is...."

He pressed his palm against Lynne's flat stomach. "I've been praying about this baby, asking God why can't Seth pull himself together, why can't Laurie find the right doctors? Why me, which is something I asked rhetorically before I met you. Then when I did meet you, it was like, is this possible, should I subject her to all this insanity?" Eric huffed, then sighed. "I know why you're pregnant again, why we had Jane, but I can't seem to find the necessary compassion to justify what's being asked of not only me, but you. And what about Jane?" Eric pressed his face alongside his wife's. "Will she remember me even?"

"She will, of course she will."

"Maybe." Eric stepped away, but didn't move his hand from Lynne's belly. "I can't make the same pledge with this baby that I did with Jane, and that rips me apart. I knew I'd be here for you then, but I can't say that now. And I know I'm supposed to trust in God, how many times did I throw that in Sam's face last summer? I told him that not even Christ was spared, and here I am, bellyaching about being away from you and our daughter, oh jeez." Eric kicked up some gravel, shaking his head. "This's nuts, you realize that? How am I supposed to help Seth at all, what can I say or do or...."

Lynne didn't look at her husband, but up to the heavens, which were dotted with a multitude of stars. She closed her eyes, but those bright speckles lingered under her lids like she had stared directly into the sun. Yet these twinkles were gentler, there was no harshness. She inhaled that notion as a hint of peace entered her heart. Breathing deeply, she brought more of that calm into her body, for she required plenty. Yet this balm didn't need to be shared with the coming baby; it was exclusively for Lynne's soul.

She smiled, opened her eyes, then walked toward her husband. She reached for his hand, placing it between her breasts. "I know so little," she began, that calm permeating her tone. "I look up and all those stars make me feel pretty small. I've been trying to be rational about this, tried to pray, but tonight, oh Eric, I love you and no, I don't want you leaving. And you're right about what you told Sam last year. But it's one thing to have all the answers when the threat isn't directed your way. Now it's all around us. And I'll be the first to admit that I haven't been giving this up enough either." She sighed, then kissed her husband with passion. As she pulled away, she placed her hand along his face. "If I tell you now that we have to trust, you won't think I'm being facetious, will you?"

"Oh my God no. I need all the reminders I can get."

His tone was light, which made Lynne giggle. "I feel like even more than when you came home right before Christmas I'm being asked to give you up again. That's what it is, but I've been ignoring just how much I'm being asked to trust. Before...." Lynne paused, then swallowed hard. "There I go again, before this and before that, but now before means something else. And maybe that's the biggest unknown. What comes next neither of us can fathom. And I don't just mean you going away. You never had to do more for your father than listen to him, and yeah, that's all you're gonna do with Seth, but it wasn't about saving your father's life." Lynne inhaled, accepting the weight of that statement. Then she exhaled. "Not that whether Seth lives or dies is up to you, but that's the reason you're going. Or it's one of the reasons. There're more I know, but what they are is as mysterious as all those stars. Hopefully not as numerous." Lynne kissed her husband again, but this time it was a gentle peck on his cheek. Then she took his hand from her chest, setting it again on their baby. "How many miracles Eric? Maybe every breath we take is one, certainly this child is, and while I want you here, I have you here." She pressed his hand against her skin. "I know that's small comfort to you now and I'm sorry but I, I...." She started to weep, so mixed were her emotions. Peace flowed through Lynne, yet she felt unable to share it with her husband.

Not even through lovemaking could Lynne proffer what now flooded her heart, and she wept for that most of all. Eric wrapped himself around her, but his arms were cool. She gripped him, wishing he could sense her ease, which she allowed might wane in the coming days. But at that moment Lynne could bear the misgivings that had plagued her since Seth tried to kill himself. If that man succeeded, great harm would occur, which Lynne felt had to be avoided at all costs. If Eric missed their baby's birth, as long as Seth was on the road to recovery, Lynne wouldn't argue. But how Eric felt was out of her hands.

Yet standing beside him, under the starry sky, she wondered if maybe peace was being shared. His breathing was even, his hands were no longer chilled. Then he kissed her and as she responded, perhaps he was finding relief. They necked for several minutes, Lynne the one to pull away. She wanted him, but not there on the patio. "Shall we go inside?" she asked softly.

He was quiet and Lynne wondered if he'd heard her. As he gripped her hand, motioning toward the garden, she knew his answer. They walked to the studio, but Lynne didn't worry that Jane would wake. Under the stars the couple made love on a sofa that had served them well previously. They remained there for another hour as in the darkness Eric prayed aloud, beseeching his savior for the calm Lynne possessed. Her prayers were spoken inwardly, asking on Eric's behalf for that same peace.
Chapter 119

July fourth was on Thursday, what Sam and Renee noted to each other, what Renee carefully pointed out to Lynne. Lynne didn't mention it to Eric, who had avoided the studio since their nocturnal frolic. Yet on Tuesday, the second of July, while still suffering impending sensations of departure, Eric asked his wife if they should have a cook-out, inviting the Aherns and Marek. Lynne was taken aback by Eric's suggestion for two reasons; one that he assumed he might still be there on the fourth, and that it would be the two-year anniversary since Sam had witnessed Eric transform. Yet Eric's mood had improved since they had made love on the studio sofa, bolstering Lynne's peace of mind. She agreed to Eric's suggestion, calling Renee, then Marek. Renee quickly gave her and Sam's assent, offering to bring whatever Lynne needed. Marek also accepted the invitation, but more warily. Lynne wondered if the pastor's hesitation was due to not wishing to witness Eric change form or if Marek felt his presence might impede upon that alteration. She kept Marek's qualms to herself, but would make two pies regardless. Sam and Renee hadn't visited in ages and would be happy to relieve Lynne of leftover dessert.

On Wednesday morning, Stanford called, informing the Snyders that Seth was being transferred to the Kerr Mental Hospital, probably that afternoon. The move had originally been slated for next week, but an opening had arisen, and Laurie wanted Seth relocated as soon as possible. The upcoming holiday mattered little, Stanford noted, his tone flat. Once Jane was asleep, Eric and Lynne discussed this news. Stanford had hinted that he was considering flying to Miami, if only for a brief visit with Laurie. Eric suspected that Stanford would ultimately back out, but if that man did end up in Florida while Eric was there, Stanford probably wouldn't notice an errant hawk loitering nearby.

But would Laurie, Lynne asked. Her tone wasn't teasing and Eric shrugged. "I'll probably run into him, I mean, I assume he'll be there as often as Seth's allowed visitors. I should call the hospital, find out what their policies are. Not that they'll allow birds into the facility, but maybe there's a garden, maybe he'll be able to...." Eric stood from the sofa where the couple had been sitting. He walked to the far wall, staring at the open space, where the orchard scene had resided. He traced the outlines of that missing canvas, keeping his back to Lynne. "Maybe Sam can look into it; Stanford made it sound like it's the best hospital in that area. He also sounded...." Now Eric faced his wife. "Lonely. Funny, you'll have everyone here and Laurie has Seth, but Stan and I are on our own."

Lynne nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. "But you'll never be able to tell him." She stood, joining her husband. "Maybe he'll go to Miami. Goodness knows Laurie could use the support." Lynne caressed her husband's face. "Not that Laurie's alone down there, but it's not his closest family and...." She sighed. "I hope Stanford goes. Maybe you'll have to lie low for a few days, I can't imagine he'd stay longer than a few days."

"No, too much in the art world he'd miss." Eric smiled, then kissed his wife. "It's neither here nor there. If nothing else, he's thinking about it. Maybe that's enough for them."

"Maybe," Lynne said, snuggling against Eric. "But right now I want you."

Eric stroked her head, kissing her cheek. "I need you too. You think if we go upstairs, Jane will notice?"

"Better if she wakes for that than if we're in the studio. We'd never hear her."

Lynne's tone was light, although Eric had been correct; this time he and Stanford were the odd men out. As Eric made more passionate overtures, Lynne gestured for them to move to the sofa. She could lay a blanket over the cushions, then throw that comforter in the laundry. As Eric stepped in that direction, Lynne followed, not thinking of anything other than making love to her husband. Jane slept through that encounter, but woke as parents caught their breaths. Eric dressed, then fetched the toddler, who didn't seem to notice her mother's ruddy coloring or her father's languid steps. The baby only cared about being cuddled, which occurred on the sofa after Lynne hastily tossed the blanket onto the carpet.

For the remainder of the day Eric spent time with his wife and daughter. That evening he took a call from Laurie; Seth was resting comfortably, yet he seemed slightly anxious, which Laurie attributed to the new facility. Give him a few days, Laurie had said, then maybe some beneficial treatment could begin.

Those words fell into Eric's ears like an edict, but he responded casually, telling Laurie that Seth remained in all of their prayers. Laurie gave his sincere thanks, then ended the call promising to keep the Snyders updated, but that he probably wouldn't know more until next week. The holiday might intrude, but more was that Seth needed to establish a routine. The staff was excellent; Kerr had a fantastic reputation, but psychiatrists could only do so much. Yet Seth seemed willing to explore the possibility of healing. The way Laurie phrased it struck Eric deeply. It was like Seth was waiting for one more piece of the puzzle. If Eric played the role Seth was anticipating, maybe change was looming.

Change was imminent as twinges flared within Eric's guts, turning into flashes of pain as Wednesday became Thursday. His arms ached, then the pain abated, but as the Aherns arrived, Eric knew only hours remained for him as a man. He told Sam that, and that he was sorry it was falling on this date. Sam shook his head, then gripped Eric's hands. Sam said nothing, but his prayers were translated as if Eric felt those missives through Sam's skin. Eric also prayed, thanking God for providing Lynne with such stalwart support. At least Eric wouldn't have to worry about his family's welfare.

After that the two couples chatted amiably, then conversation grew slightly awkward when Renee asked when Marek was supposed to arrive. Lynne said he had been told the same time as the Aherns, then Eric smiled, stepping from his chair on the patio. "I'll give him a call, see if something came up."

Jane made the only noise, calling after her father, but soon the toddler was amused by her aunt. Sam also distracted Jane, but Lynne kept her eyes on the French doors. When Eric finally emerged from the house, Lynne knew Marek wouldn't be joining them. Eric said as much when he reached the group. Then Eric sighed. "I guess it's too close for him."

"I wondered," Sam nodded. Then he glanced at Jane, who laughed at nothing in particular. "Not much else to be said, I suppose."

"No, not really." Eric retook his seat, then stretched his arms overhead. He met Sam's gaze, making that man shiver. Sam would never forget what had occurred on this day two years before. Would it again happen, and if so.... Then Sam glanced at his wife, but Renee wouldn't meet his stare. Instead she smiled at Jane and Sam permitted that joy. They had been talking about adopting, but not from St. Joseph's. Father Markham had mentioned another orphanage, but it was much further away. Still, at least they were speaking of making a family, and Sam would give his wife whatever time she needed. Maybe all of this with Seth had provided Renee with perspective; life was short and Eric was being wrenched away from his wife, daughter, and another baby on the way. Sam wasn't certain if Lynne being pregnant played any part, but Renee seemed more than happy to dote on her godchild. To Sam, that was enough of a miracle. Then he glanced at Eric, who now stood behind his wife, rubbing Lynne's shoulders. Eric's grimace relayed but a fraction of the pain Sam knew was coming. That agony made Sam's stomach ache, for as he would never forget what happened on this day in 1961, he would forever possess the memories of Eric's return from that sojourn. Those screams were buried alongside Sam's Korean experiences, but being less than two years old, occasionally they stirred nightmares. Fortunately those dreams were hedged in the reality of Eric's recovery. And if God was willing, Eric would again return home, changing back into a man. Sam prayed for that miracle as he watched Eric crack his knuckles, the transformation only minutes away.

Renee saw the same, although she couldn't look Eric in the eye. She stood, speaking to Jane in a soothing voice, then Renee headed for the house. No one had needed to prompt her and it wasn't as if she'd discussed this possibility with Lynne. Renee simply followed the leading of her heart, removing her godchild from a scene that Renee then prayed Jane would never witness. Renee stepped into the living room, closing the French doors behind her. She headed to the stairs, still talking to Jane, who clapped her hands, then tugged gently on Renee's hair. Into the nursery they went, but Renee didn't close that door. She set Jane on the floor, then shut the window, but the bottom of the curtain was caught, flapping in the slight breeze.

A godmother stared at that fluttering fabric as Jane laughed like she saw the same. Then Renee turned around, but Jane was fixated on brightly colored blocks. Renee returned to the window, which faced the backyard. Renee didn't peer down, instead looking at the sky, which seemed a particularly captivating shade of blue. She was glad Marek hadn't joined them, no one needed to see Eric change, it was.... It was something Renee couldn't accurately describe; good and bad, necessary but painful, momentary yet lasting. Could what had happened to Marek's family be described similarly, or what about Seth's illness? Nothing connected to those situations was at all positive, making Renee shudder. Then she looked at Jane, who stacked blocks, then knocked them down. Renee went to her knees, then sat beside the child who to Renee looked much like Lynne. Was it Jane's dark hair, perhaps? Jane was a carbon copy of her mother, except for her vivid blue eyes.

Those eyes now beseeched Renee to make her own stack of blocks and Renee complied. Then with a naughty chuckle, Jane knocked those toys to the floor. Renee burst into laughter. "You little bug-a-boo!" That had become Renee's pet name for Jane since Renee had allowed this child back into her heart. Then quick tears sprang from Renee's eyes. She collected Jane into her arms, shielding her from a sound that Renee couldn't ignore. The screech was loud and Renee turned toward the window; had she fully closed it? Maybe that crack, accommodating the curtain, now permitted a father one last goodbye to his daughter. A hawk swooped past, crying in earnest. Renee wanted to protect her godchild, but the bird made a return trip. With Jane still in her grasp, Renee got up from the floor. Together they stood at the window as Eric made one more pass. Jane seemed not to notice, but Renee grabbed the toddler's hand, waving it. "Say so-long to Daddy," Renee mumbled, tears pouring down her face.

By the time Eric had altered, Marek had finished weeding the flowerbed. He smirked at himself; he hadn't been able to join the Snyders, yet he couldn't remain inside St. Matthew's. And more troubling was that instead of keeping his eyes on the skies, he'd been hunched over, doing the bidding of an old woman who would always hate him simply for his nationality. Why did his Polish heritage bother her, he wondered, then he got off the ground, brushing dirt from his trousers. He stretched out his back, then put his hands on his hips. The gardener might give him a funny look, but Marek hadn't wanted another dressing down. Then he sighed, finally looking upwards. The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue, which made him smile. It reminded him of home, how magical were those days of his childhood.

The blue was rich, maybe it was related to what this country was celebrating on that day. Mrs. Kenny had asked him his holiday plans, then had tutted herself, but Marek had chuckled, wishing her a good time at the picnic she was attending. That had been on Monday, before Eric had invited him for the cook-out. Marek never did tell Carla Kenny about that summons, which would make it easier when he saw her next week, nothing more to note than church business. She had offered to come in tomorrow, but Marek had told her to enjoy the long weekend. He wasn't expecting a big crowd on Sunday, but would Lynne and Jane come for worship?

Marek didn't include the other member of the Snyder family, sensing Eric's absence in the same manner he had realized his family was dead when he approached their village, smoke still visible in the dark sky. Eric was already headed across the country and Marek prayed for that man's safe return. Then the pastor closed his eyes. He couldn't ask why, although he wished for a reason, if not for himself then for Lynne and Jane, Sam and Renee too. Yet Eric's immediate kin resonated in Marek's heart. If they attended church on Sunday, Marek would insist that they stay for lunch. He hadn't been able to be there for them today, but as time passed, he would offer as much support as was feasible.

The breeze felt good on his face, which was marked with sweat. He gazed at his handiwork; the flowers were again prominent, so Mrs. Harmon would have to look elsewhere for something over which to badger him. Marek collected the weeds, a few falling back to the sidewalk. He bent over to gather them, gripping the pile in clenched hands. He walked to the back of the church where a mound of clippings waited. His additions were minor, then he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He scanned the skies, seeing only that mesmerizing shade of blue. He smiled, unable to help himself. It was a beautiful day, perhaps befitting such ethereal occurrences.

He returned to the front steps, looking down both sides of the street. Mrs. Harmon was nowhere to be seen; she would probably wait until dusk, he mused. Marek shook his head, then headed up the stairs. The screech made him shake, then turn around. On the first step was a hawk, staring right at him.

Marek inhaled slowly, exhaling deliberately. His heart pounded, his vision was blurred. He blinked several times, but the hawk remained on that step. It was large and its eyes seemed strangely oval. Yet maybe Marek projected that, for he knew this creature wasn't merely fowl. Marek wished to speak, but nothing came from his throat. He coughed, but the hawk didn't react. It gazed at him, blinking occasionally. And with every blink, the bird's eyes grew more round, Marek would swear that was the case. The creature pecked at the cement, then hopped onto the sidewalk. Marek couldn't take his eyes off of it, of him. It was Eric, as again the hawk peered straight at the pastor. Eric was this bird of prey, no matter how much Marek wished otherwise.

"Godspeed my friend," Marek said in a half whisper. Then he cleared his throat. "I assume you can understand me," he smiled. "May you fly safely, accomplish the task in front of you, and return in God's due time."

The hawk nodded, then opened its wings wide. Then it launched itself into the air, swooping right over Marek's head. The pastor looked up as the bird made one more pass. Then it flew off and Marek watched until he couldn't see it anymore.

Marek went inside the church, then headed to his room. He took a bath, got dressed, then went into the kitchen. It was nearly five p.m., but he picked up the telephone anyways. He needed to speak to Lynne, but not for confirmation. This call was pastoral in nature, checking on a member of his flock.

Sam answered, making Marek smile. Then Lynne was put on the phone. "Hello Marek. How are you?"

"I was calling to ask that of you." He paused, then continued. "I had a visitor about an hour ago. I assume Eric got off well?"

Lynne took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "He did. I wondered if he would head your way first."

A brief chill ran down Marek's back. Their conversation seemed innocuous, yet.... "I wished him a safe journey...." Marek shivered. "I'd been out gardening. I suppose I was hoping to see him."

"Are you finished with your work?" Lynne asked.

Now warmth surged through Marek. "Indeed I am. The flowerbeds look improved for my efforts."

"Well, we have plenty leftover. I made two pies, but Sam says they can't take more than a half home. We'd love to see you."

Marek nodded, closing his eyes. He could still see Eric on the stoop, pecking at the ground. "I'd love to join you." Marek opened his eyes, then walked to where he could view the painting of himself and Jane. "I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Wonderful," Lynne said. "Looking forward to your company."

"See you soon." Marek waited for Lynne's goodbye, then he hung up the receiver. He took one more glance at the painting, then exited the kitchen. He collected his keys, locked the church, then got into his car. As he drove out of town, he only paid attention to the road. Eric was in God's care, but then they all were. Yet, Marek offered another prayer for that man, who for the foreseeable future was a most extraordinary creation. Godspeed indeed, Marek repeated inwardly. And Christ's blessings to those awaiting Eric's arrival, then his timely return, the pastor added.
Chapter 120

On average, hawks fly between thirty and fifty miles an hour. Eric wasn't a typical hawk, but could attain such speeds, and did so the first few days in the air. He had considered the length of this sojourn, the longest he had ever undertaken; it might be more than a week of straight flying, which would also be new. Previously his jaunts, even to see his father, had been interspersed with moments of investigation and reflection. Eric had used these trips to observe nature, but now his paintings had little to do with landscapes. As he headed east, his musings were directed at those he'd left behind, few thoughts focused on the one waiting for him in Florida.

After four days, Eric spent much of the fifth resting. He wasn't sure where he was, but the terrain was mostly flat, probably east Texas, he assumed. All of his sense of direction was strictly instinctual, as was normally the case, which had soothed him. He hadn't put any additional attention toward this journey. This time, Eric allowed, perched in a tall tree, God was firmly in control.

Eric nodded his head, for that was as close as he could get to a smile. Yet a gentle mirth coursed through him, for now that he was a hawk, and probably halfway to Miami, Eric accepted that every single time he had altered, God had indeed been present. Previously Eric hadn't been aware of that fact, but now he couldn't ignore the shield around him. Other birds left him alone. Plenty of food was his for the taking. Even this tree was perfect. Leafy, sturdy branches hid him, also supported his bulk. He was perhaps larger than most hawks, and had been eating well. At that moment, he wasn't hungry, only weary. Then he let out a cackling caw, which roused smaller birds from nearby trees. He watched them flee, then closed his eyes. He might stay here a day, giving his tired wings a well-earned rest.

Eric fell asleep, dreaming of his family. In these early days, his thoughts were fully human and all of his experiences were judged in that manner. When he woke, dusk greeted him, as if he'd needed several hours of slumber. He wasn't hungry, but his human nature told him it was well past supper time. He peered down, spying several mice scurrying along the dirt. Taking a deep breath, he let them pass. Mice were his favorites, but perhaps a squirrel sometime tomorrow would be his next meal. Before Eric hadn't liked the taste of squirrel, then he gripped the branch with his left claw. The past rumbled through him, so many memories that were easily recalled within this form. At that moment he could taste the squirrel that had sufficed after his encounter with the falcon, and how quickly that family of rodents had raced into a structure that was now being displayed somewhere in Sweden. He released another ringing caw, as close to a laugh as he could muster. There he was, somewhere in The South, as nothing more than a bird of prey. And on the European continent images of America drew crowds who probably wondered from where the artist had gained his subjects. From right here, he wanted to say, wishing the future held the time to paint this tree, or the fleeing birds from earlier, or another collection of mice, who as Eric looked down, were now long gone.

Had they sensed his presence or simply moved on as he should be doing. He shook his head, then sighed. Seth needed him, why he was sitting in that damn tree? Eric again gripped the branch like he'd found an errant mouse. With one swift move, he could slit its throat, skin it, then devour the still warm carcass. Instead he clutched the tree bark, which was cool now that evening had fallen. What were Lynne and Jane doing, he wondered.

He'd needed to see his daughter one more time, flying past the nursery window until Renee obliged. How young Jane had appeared, not paying him a whit of attention. Yet Renee had waved Jane's small hand up and down, and that action had sent a father on his way. But before Eric could head east, he'd had to visit Marek. And yes, Eric had understood everything his pastor had said, appreciating that man's send-off. As Eric unclenched the tree branch, he considered God's due time. How long would Eric need to be in Miami; would he fly home in cold temperatures, would Lynne have already had....

Eric closed his eyes, but not from fatigue. The trip east would take no more than ten days in ideal conditions. Coming home in winter was another story, but maybe that was the reason for his previous sojourns in dismal weather, to prepare him for this outing. How bad was Seth's mental health, Eric then pondered. For how long would Eric have to be away from home?

He sighed again, which emerged as nearly human. He wouldn't get to Florida by ruminating about it. Scouting out the ground, he saw nothing resembling supper. Then he scoffed, which didn't sound like that of a man, but a rather indignant hawk. God was with him, but he wasn't going to snap his fingers, putting Eric within hopping distance of Seth's location. Taking a deep breath, Eric unruffled his wings, then departed from that spot, gazing at stars overhead. He flew as directed; this trip was an exercise in faith like no other he'd taken before.

As the days passed, Lynne waited for Laurie to call. Yet she received only one letter from Miami, that Seth had slipped further into depression. Laurie noted the cause, which Lynne had shared with the Aherns and Marek. In May, Seth had met an Auschwitz survivor, and that encounter had triggered this lapse into what Laurie described as one of the lowliest moments of Seth's life. Yet, Laurie had to admit, Seth also seemed strangely cognizant that this time his life was set for change. It was, Laurie wrote, the only reason that he was still there, wondering from day to day if he would find Seth alive or dead.

Lynne hadn't been bothered with Laurie's honesty, for which he did apologize at the letter's conclusion. Her slight anxiety arose when considering how long Eric might have to be in Florida, so much to set right. With Renee and Sam, Lynne spoke her heart, how awful for Seth to feel so responsible for an event that had nothing to do with him; he was merely linked to The Holocaust by his religion. Around Marek, Lynne didn't breach such a notion. She had simply given Marek the letter, telling him to get it back to her later. When he did return it, they only spoke about Jane and the coming baby. Marek didn't imply anything about Seth Gordon other than he was in Marek's prayers. As were the rest of them, he'd added with a smile.

By the middle of July, Lynne assumed Eric had arrived in Florida, although she had no proof. Stanford had called, but thankfully he hadn't asked to speak to Eric. Lynne learned that the art dealer wasn't going to Miami, nor would he be coming west, at least not for a while. Lynne then chatted with Agatha, regaling her with Jane's latest antics as well as assuring her that Lynne's own health was good. But in Agatha's knowing tone, Lynne detected concerns pointed toward those in Florida. Agatha mentioned she was taking next week off at Stanford's insistence. Not that he was traveling anywhere, but with Laurie gone, Stanford was working long days. Lynne wasn't surprised; time without Eric seemed to drag, although Lynne slept well enough. But for Stanford, the days must feel stretched. Lynne closed the call, promising to send pictures of Jane to Queens. But a mother would also post a snapshot to the one still in Manhattan.

Walking away from the mailbox, Lynne heard a truck's rumble. She paused as the vehicle came to a stop near her. The postman smiled, exiting the truck, his hands full of letters that were rubber-banded together. Returning to the mailbox, Lynne retrieved the card for Stanford. Then she walked to where the mailman stood. "I'll trade you," she chuckled.

"Seems that husband of yours has more fans than Mickey Mantle. Sure can't tell where these are from though. It all looks Greek to me."

"Right now I think his paintings are in Sweden." Lynne gazed at the top envelope, then smiled at the mailman. "It's lovely to know how much they're being admired."

The mailman nodded, then blushed slightly. He stared back at his truck, wiping his forehead with a cloth. "My wife and I saw his exhibit here last summer. He's really talented."

Lynne fought a giggle, as the man wouldn't look at her. At the market she occasionally found people staring at her. Then she sighed. Last summer seemed so far away, perhaps Eric's absence accentuated that notion. The last two weeks had felt extensive, but for how long would her husband be gone? How many letters would accumulate, she then thought, as the mailman nodded in her direction, but still wouldn't meet her gaze. He waved, then got into his truck, heading to the next house along his route. Lynne watched him go, then turned for the gate, gripping the packet of mail in her hand.

Renee stopped by as Lynne and Jane ate an early supper. The women's chatter wasn't more than light gossip; Vivian's relatives were in town and Renee had been introduced to them that afternoon. Vivian was taking the week off from work, but Renee didn't mind shouldering a few long days. Both she and Sam had noticed how lately time seemed to drag....

Then Renee stopped speaking, but Lynne grasped her hand. "I feel the same. He's probably there now. I wonder how long it'll be before Laurie writes me about this strange hovering hawk."

Renee gaped at Lynne, then began to chuckle. Jane picked up on it and Lynne appreciated their humor, joining in their laughter. "Oh goodness," Lynne then said. "I mailed a letter to Stanford today, I should write to Laurie too." Then Lynne sighed. "I haven't since he wrote me. I wish that letter would've come before Eric left. At least he'd have an idea of what the trouble was."

"It must be awful. I wonder if he thought going to Korea would somehow atone for all that."

Lynne nodded, having considered the same. Had Seth assumed that by serving his country he could somehow make up for the most atrocious.... Lynne couldn't even conjure the appropriate adjectives. She shivered, then stroked Jane's face. "Well, at least Laurie knows. And Seth's new doctors too. And soon enough...." Lynne gazed at Renee. "In the meantime, I've got a stack of letters to look over tonight." Lynne smiled. "Or a few until my eyelids start burning."

"How many came today?" Renee asked.

"My goodness, probably a dozen." Lynne stood, then stepped out of the kitchen. She returned with the stack, still held in the rubber band, setting the bundle in front of Renee. As Lynne sat down, Renee removed the band, thumbing through the envelopes.

Lynne watched how Renee tried to make out the names, but they were so foreign. These were probably from Norway; the letter on top had Oslo written in the return address. But Lynne felt no guilt that these notes wouldn't be answered. It was as Marek had told her just last month, that the sentiments had merely needed to be expressed. Amazing that with barely more than Eric's name and occupation on the envelopes the bulk of the correspondence arrived at all.

"What'll you do with them, after you read them, I mean." Renee set down the letters, then tickled Jane's chin.

"I put them in boxes, he might want to see them someday." Two large boxes were already filled in Eric's study. Lynne had more, but once they were full, she wasn't sure about saving additional mail. "Those I can read are truly beautiful, the sentiments I mean." She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. "It's like he's still here, but in so many different voices."

Renee nodded, then sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Lynne had wept too, some of the messages so poignant. It was probably good that she only could make out about half of the correspondence. Yet even the most heartbreaking notes lifted her; how marvelous was it that Eric's work done on this property could arouse deeply held memories from miles and miles away. Then Lynne trembled. Eric would again do that very task, but not with canvas and oils. Had he reached Seth yet, was he aware of how much pain that man carried within?

Lynne gazed at the stack of mail, slightly askew in the center of the table. Renee had placed them there because right afterwards she had freed Jane from the high chair, not wishing to have messy hands reaching for valuable post. Lynne smiled as Jane babbled, although some words were clear; no was starting to overtake Ma-ma in Jane's budding vocabulary. Sometimes she called for Da-Da, but without Eric's presence, that word was being replaced. Lynne went to the sink for a rag, then wiped Jane's face and hands. Then she sat down, gazing at one letter, the handwriting large and stark.

She picked it up, carefully opening it. The script was smaller than on the envelope, but just as clearly presented; Lynne felt the writer had wanted to make sure their thoughts weren't mistaken. Lynne read slowly, but chatters from her daughter caught her attention. Yet Renee was quiet as Lynne peered toward those ladies. Renee's opaque eyes were wide, like stoplights flashing.

Lynne returned to the note, giving it her full attention. Then she set down the paper, gazing at it. Then she stared at Renee, who lips twitched. "Well?" Renee asked. "What'd they say?"

"She asked about Marek." Lynne's voice quivered. "She...." Lynne picked up the note, then turned it to the back. "She signed it Mrs. Henrichsen." Then Lynne retrieved the envelope. "A Mrs. Gunnar Henrichsen from Oslo wants to know who was the man holding the little girl." Now Lynne gazed at her daughter, happy in Renee's grasp. "She wants to know if Jane's his child."

"She say anything else?" Renee reached for the note and Lynne handed it to her. Renee scanned it front and back, then returned it to Lynne. "Her English is good, her penmanship too. Or maybe she had someone write it for her. My goodness, how mysterious." Renee smiled briefly, then caressed Jane's head. Then she met Lynne's anxious eyes. "Are you gonna tell Marek?"

Lynne nodded. "Though I can't imagine he knows someone in Oslo. He just told me he's not good with Scandinavian languages."

"Well, maybe it's someone he knew in Britain. Hmmmm...." Renee paused, then shook her head. "It's certainly gonna make a good story to tell Sam. And speaking of my husband...." Renee stood, then kissed Jane's cheek. "I better be on my way. Need to be at work early tomorrow. I'll be opening the office until Vivian gets back."

"Is she off all week?" Lynne asked absently, staring at the letter on the table.

"Yup. Her niece's family doesn't visit often. Not sure what they're gonna do unless they take some day trips. If nothing else this makes up for when she filled in for me when Sam was sick." Renee smiled, then gave Jane to her mother. "I hate being beholden to someone. Now we'll be even."

"Even, uh-huh." Lynne nodded, then glanced at the telephone. As soon as Renee left, Lynne would call Marek. He probably wouldn't come over that night, but maybe tomorrow Lynne would take Jane to St. Matthew's and....

"Earth to Lynne," Renee said, tapping Lynne's shoulder. "Lynne?"

"Oh sorry, just thinking about the letter." Lynne smiled, then she sighed. "Yes, you go home. You can tell Sam I was about as far away as my husband is right now."

Lynne expected Renee to cluck. Instead Renee placed her palm against Lynne's cheek. "Maybe this is God's way of giving you something else to consider. That painting sure gave Mrs. Henrichsen food for thought."

"Maybe you're right." Now Lynne smiled. "But will it keep me up tonight wondering about it?"

"I hope not. It's not gonna bother Jane one iota, and when she wakes, you'll hear about that." Renee chuckled, then kissed both mother and daughter. "Let me know what Marek says, and if Laurie gets in touch." Renee collected her handbag. "Call me tomorrow night regardless."

"Will do." Lynne smiled, then walked Renee to the door. "Give Sam my love as well as the latest."

Renee nodded, but right before she opened the door, she glanced back to the table. Then she met Lynne's gaze. Jane giggled as the women nodded, unusually muted goodbyes shared between them.
Chapter 121

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Edwin Sellers patted Seth's shoulder. The session had been a mostly silent affair, for since being moved to the Kerr Mental Hospital, Seth had lapsed into what to the staff were merely steps away from the end. Dr. Sellers had told Seth's cousin that they could keep Seth alive, but that kind of life wasn't equitable to what it should be. Laurie had seemed particularly pained, as had a woman who had visited Seth shortly after his arrival. Dr. Sellers had also spoken with her, a German concentration camp survivor. He'd been relieved that she seemed to assume no responsibility for Seth's deteriorating mental health, but she had given the doctor her address, asking to be kept abreast of Seth's condition. The doctor had noticed that she didn't live in Miami; she was going home to Israel, and he had promised to write when there was something new to share.

As Dr. Sellers exited the room, he didn't look back at the relatively young man who stared out the window as though waiting for someone to appear. Dr. Sellers had met with Seth before he'd been transferred to this facility, and had been encouraged by Seth's demeanor, which was that of someone willing to try. But since the Fourth of July, Seth's mood had plummeted to the point that the doctor and his colleagues were considering initiating electro shock therapy. All of Seth's medical records had been delivered, and while the Gordon family had expressed their extreme reservations toward resumption of that treatment, Dr. Sellers had few alternatives. Seth's wounds were improving, but not until they were fully healed would shock treatments be administered. Dr. Sellers stepped into his office, shaking his head as he did so. He couldn't help but contrast this man with that German woman. Over the last twenty years Dr. Sellers had met only a few Holocaust survivors, each possessing an incredible fortitude that was occasionally bordered by distress. Norah Wasserman had been that sort, but how much of her sorrow was tied into the man who seemed without any purpose to live?

Yet, she was going back to Israel, was probably there now, Dr. Sellers mused as he wrote notes in Seth's file. The doctor had gently prodded his newest patient, but Seth had little to say, merely staring out the window. Dr. Sellers had asked who or what Seth was hoping to see, and all Seth had muttered was something about a hawk. Edwin Sellers had lived in Florida for much of his life, and had seen few birds of prey. He highly doubted that Seth had encountered any back in Brooklyn, although perhaps during his stay in Vermont a few might have appeared. Or in Minneapolis, then the doctor sighed. Shock therapy had previously lifted Seth's malaise, but while Norah Wasserman had been the trigger this time around, until Seth could speak about why, the doctor's hands were tied.

Those thoughts were scribbled down, then Dr. Sellers placed Seth's file in his outbox. The doctor leaned back in his chair, lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. From all that Seth's cousin had relayed, The Holocaust was the root of Seth's problem, his tour in Korea having exacerbated those troubles. Dr. Seller pondered those elements, but no clear connection appeared. Seth had been a teenager during World War II, and according to Laurie, also a prolific and gifted artist for such a young age. Now he was heavily medicated, waiting for a hawk. Seth had spoken so little since being transferred that even though he'd only mentioned the hawk a few times, Dr. Sellers had appropriated significance to it.

But what did a hawk have to do with.... Dr. Sellers sighed, stubbed out the butt in an ashtray, then stood, heading out of his office. Other patients waited, and he would visit Seth again later in the day. Maybe, Dr. Sellers smiled, whatever Seth attached to the hawk might emerge, if not the hawk Seth awaited.

When Laurie arrived, Seth was still gazing out of the window. Laurie came every day, which at first Seth had appreciated. Now he barely noticed his cousin's presence, other than daily Laurie drove to this hospital. Aunt Sheila and Uncle Mickey had tagged along on Laurie's first visit, but seemed to have had the good sense not to bother with another social call. Seth had anticipated them, but when Norah stepped into his room, he'd been astounded. He'd assumed she had already left, not that he had asked Laurie, but in that the few times they had spoken, Norah had mentioned her stay in Miami was temporary. When she sat beside him, probably sometime last week, Seth had kept his eyes from her. He was already lamenting his words to Laurie about Eric, hoping that man had stayed in the west, remaining as a human being. Even before Norah's visit, Seth had started dreaming of Korea, and now every night he was back on Asian soil, a gun gripped tightly, but not for self-protection. Seth had one firm purpose for that weapon and the awful guilt attached to that resolve was now suffocating him.

The only thing Seth could do was keep watch for the hawk. If it appeared, Seth would take the necessary measures to end his life. And if the hawk didn't come.... Then what remained of Seth would slowly die within this room, so either way, Seth was finished. It wasn't fair that he had sought Eric's presence, it wasn't right that Laurie was far away from Stanford. It wasn't just that Norah had tried to put into Seth a semblance of.... Even Norah had tried to offer solace, clasping his hands within hers, tenderly stroking his face as if he was the victim. But it was useless, for after inquiring about Eric, the dreams had returned, dreams that Seth had suffered from for years. For a time the blue barn had relieved those dreadful nightmares, then shock therapy had alleviated them significantly. But ultimately Seth couldn't forget them, righteous anger having built into cold-blooded revenge regardless of rational explanation or artistic talent, his or anyone else's.

That same churning cauldron now bubbled in Seth's gut, but he ignored the pain as Laurie pulled up a chair next to him. "Hey, how are you?" Laurie's tone was soft but chipper. He sat down, but didn't reach for Seth's left hand. "Another hot one out there," Laurie continued. "I can't fathom how Uncle Mickey stays in this god-forsaken state." Then Laurie chuckled. "Give me New York any day."

Seth didn't respond with words or even a nod. As each day passed, Laurie's chatter became more innocuous. Gone were his plaintive tone and earnest declarations. Perhaps Laurie was distancing himself, yet he hadn't talked of going home, making Seth wonder for how long was his cousin going to stay, until Seth died maybe? But Laurie had insisted it would be he to go first, before he let Seth.... Yet it wasn't up to Laurie when or how Seth died. Seth might be three years Laurie's junior, but the lives they lived had long ago stopped being equitable. Seth was far past Laurie in age; hatred ate up a man's soul, Seth knew. Some days he felt as old as Methuselah.

A flicker of curiosity wafted through his mind as a bevy of small birds pecked the ground just past the glass panes through which Seth couldn't stop staring. Why did he feel so...accountable, responsible, answerable, yet those were all the same words. So many words and so few solutions other than a final solution, and Seth cracked a smile as Laurie prattled on. One idiot's final solution had spurred Seth into action, but for what reason other than simply more nonsense. And if all he could proffer as an excuse for his vile exploits was nonsense, then how could he even be permitted to take another breath? How had Norah allowed him to make love to her, even after he told her why he'd enlisted, or maybe she hadn't been listening. How could Eric allow Seth to view that blue barn what with so much blood dripping from Seth's hands?

And where was that hawk? Had Eric truly changed form; Laurie hadn't mentioned any such notion, but if Eric was on his way east, Laurie would have no idea. Eric's wife probably hadn't given him a heads-up and contemptuous mirth flirted along the edges of Seth's thoughts. Why not drag one more through the mire of Seth's tattered gray matter, who would care if another human being was tarnished by such unpleasantness. Then Seth shivered, ruing his survival. If Aunt Sheila and Uncle Mickey had been delayed just a little longer that one night, all of this would be over.

Seth took a deep breath, then gazed at Laurie. That man's eyes were wide and beseeching, but Seth willed back the desire to reach for his cousin's hand. Instead he cleared his throat, then spoke. "I don't want you here anymore. There's nothing else you can do for me."

"I don't believe that." Laurie's voice was flat. Then he blinked. His lips trembled and he stared at the floor. Seth knew that when Laurie looked up again, those green eyes would be misty. But that could no longer matter. Seth had caused enough mayhem; all of this had to end.

He was no better than those who had applied Norah's tattoo, not deserving of such misguided devotion. "Get out Laurie. I don't need you anymore."

No longer was Seth the younger cousin; he didn't require Laurie's protection, or his love. He only needed a sharp instrument, a handful of pills, or a stout piece of rope. Seth inhaled, then exhaled. He wanted Laurie back in the bosom of their family when the call came, Stanford as near as possible. Then, after time, Laurie would be fine. "There's nothing you can do now," Seth added, his voice carrying an air of authority. "If you stay here, it'll only hurt more."

Now Laurie wept, but Seth wasn't moved. This was as necessary as all those Seth had killed in Asia, for no other intention than that was all life was about. Men were born, then they died for no rhyme or reason except to satisfy the hunger for destruction. The base of humanity possessed as primal an instinct as what drove animals to kill, even if one's belly was full. Why else did war still exist, why devise such fanciful manners in which to consume a nation of people, why else did Seth join the army with one goal in mind; to shoot as many Koreans as came within firing range. Not that one drop of their spilled blood would begin to atone, but it was what men did to other men, to other human beings. They killed one another simply for the thrill of....

A piercing squawk halted Seth's thoughts, also silencing Laurie's cries. Both men glanced at the window, finding a large hawk staring at them. "Jesus Christ," Laurie exclaimed, getting to his feet, rushing to the window. But Seth was frozen in his chair, unable to look away, although his eyes burned from the bird's fierce gaze.

Laurie stood at the window. "Seth, come see. It's a hawk, my God, the biggest one I've ever seen. And I swear it's looking right at me, at us."

Seth shook his head, wringing his hands. The bird squawked again, making Seth tremble. "Make it go away," he croaked. "Make it leave."

But Laurie remained still. "C'mere, you gotta see this. It looks like something outta one of Eric's paintings."

"No, I don't wanna, I can't, I...." Seth wanted to flee, but there was nowhere to go. "Make him leave Laurie, I can't do this, I can't...."

"Make who leave? It's just a bird. But come see, it's just like...."

Laurie turned around, but Seth no longer sat in the chair. He was at the door, trying to turn the knob, yet it was locked from the outside. Laurie's visits were monitored every twenty minutes, otherwise there was no way for him to exit the room. Dr. Sellers used a key, like the rest of the staff. But patients were confined to these premises and as Seth unsuccessfully banged on the door, for the first time he understood what Norah might have felt during her incarceration. Then Seth turned to face Laurie, who remained near the window. Seth was caught up in a most bizarre phenomenon, as that large bird could still be seen. Slowly Laurie approached Seth. "Give me your hand, it won't bite. Just come see it, please?"

Seth shook his head. "I can't. He shouldn't have come here."

"Who?" Laurie asked.

The squawk reverberated as though the window was wide open. Seth was temporarily comforted by the bird's insistence, for that's what it was. Eric didn't want Laurie aware and in that moment Seth agreed. He also had to view what was making all that racket, and sure enough, as Laurie led Seth to the window, there stood a rather majestic hawk, peering at both men. Seth's heart pounded, making his entire chest ache. "You did it," he murmured. "You actually did it."

"I didn't do anything," Laurie said softly. "But my God, isn't it unreal? It is just like from one of Eric's paintings."

Placing his hands along the panes, Seth peered through bars attached on the outside of the building. There was no escape, Seth knew, but unless he requested to be allowed outside, this was as close as the hawk could get to him. And what could this hawk accomplish from the outside? Not much, Seth snorted.

The hawk looked to the left, as if refuting Seth's idea. Then it took some hopping steps backwards. Again its gaze was fixed on those standing at the window, making Seth tremble. It was like staring into the face of a man he'd just killed, eyes wide but alien. That bird was Eric, but his eyes weren't human. Seth inhaled sharply; what was one bird in the face of all the havoc Seth had wrought?

Laurie's strong grip on Seth's hand caused Seth to choke. Then Laurie slapped Seth's back as the hawk added another startling cry. Seth bent over, steadying himself by placing his hands on his legs. "Tell me when he's gone," Seth muttered, trying to catch his breath.

"When who's gone?" Laurie asked.

Seth stood up, then pointed at the window. "That goddamn hawk, that's who!"

But as the cousins looked out, there was nothing to be seen but gray cement and blue sky. Seth pounded his hands against the safety glass. "And don't come back, you hear? Just stay the hell away from me! Go back home, you goddamn animal, just go away!"
Chapter 122

Late on Friday afternoon Renee closed up Dr. Howard's office, still thinking about Lynne's phone call from earlier. Laurie had telephoned with good news, or that was how the women considered the large hawk now residing where Seth was being treated. Lynne had tried calling Sam, but Renee would tell him when she got home that night. Yet Marek was already aware, for Lynne had said she would call him. Then Renee smirked, but it turned into a slight giggle. The relief in Lynne's voice had been palpable, the first time she had proof of Eric's whereabouts. But Lynne had also mentioned how poorly was Seth's mental state; Laurie had shared that too, as if prepping them for bad news. Renee didn't fret about that. Eric had arrived safely and the rest was in God's hands.

As Renee locked the front door, the telephone rang. She rushed to answer it, then smiled. "Oh hello Vivian. You just caught me."

The chatter of small children resounded in the background as Vivian requested a favor; her niece's daughter had misplaced a stuffed bear. Might Renee check if the little girl had left it at the office?

Setting down the receiver, Renee scanned the desk. Nothing matched Vivian's description of a small brown stuffed animal wearing a distinctive plaid scarf. Then Renee hunted through the toy box in the reception room. Although few of Dr. Howard's patients were children, the nurses had collected some playthings. At the bottom Renee found what might be the missing bear, the scarf sewn to the back, but hanging limply. As she returned to the phone, Renee tied the scarf securely, then described it to Vivian, who noted that was most likely it. If Renee had time, could she drop it off, as the family was heading home tomorrow.

Renee sighed inwardly, then replied that of course she could deliver the bear. She tapped her foot as Vivian thanked her profusely, then gave Renee her address. Vivian didn't live far from the Aherns, for which Renee was grateful. She just wanted to get home to tell Sam the latest about Seth.

She set the bear in her purse, headed to the office's back door, then saw herself out. Driving away, Renee wondered what Sam would think about Eric and Seth; Sam would be as relieved as Renee that Eric was there, but also wondering what good Eric could do if Seth was so mentally unstable. Maybe Eric wouldn't be gone long, not if Seth.... Renee shivered, then remembered she had a stop to make. She frowned, then glanced at her purse. Yet Vivian had done so much for Renee when Sam had been sick in April. This errand was the least Renee could do.

Reaching Vivian's street, Renee scanned the house numbers, then recognized Vivian's car, parked in the driveway. A large wood-paneled station wagon sat in front of the house, probably belonging to Vivian's niece. Renee hadn't paid the family much attention, but that had been on purpose, for as soon as she'd spied the little boy's bright blue eyes, a deep pain had rushed through her. It had been immediately compounded by his sister's fiery red hair, a little girl now missing her favorite toy. Renee parked behind the station wagon, grabbing her handbag. Hopefully this was the bear, she thought, as she walked to the front door, then knocked. A young woman answered, her red hair and blue eyes reminiscent of her children. "You must be Mrs. Ahern, we met earlier this week. Aunt Vivian said you might've found Scooter."

Renee nodded, stepping inside. "Well, I found a toy close to what she described." Reaching into her purse, she handed over the bear. "Sure hope this's it."

"It is, oh my goodness, thank you so much!" The woman clasped the bear, then gave Renee a wide smile. "You don't know the half of it. Ann's gonna be thrilled. My husband took them for a walk; we didn't wanna raise her hopes. I'm Beth, by the way."

The woman stuck out her hand and Renee shook it. "Renee. Well, glad to be of help."

Vivian joined them, gazing at the bear in Beth's hands. "Oh bless your heart Renee." Then Vivian looked at Beth. "Now you'll have a happy drive home. I can't imagine how Ann would've been without that bear."

"She'd have been a bear," Beth chuckled. "She's been distracted all week, but last night, good grief. She was making Paul crazy, trying to take his." Beth shook her head. "Tonight we'll all get some sleep."

"And you'll need it," Vivian laughed. "It's a long drive home."

"Where do you live?" Renee asked.

"Colorado," Beth said. "Aunt Vivian's always coming to see us, but my husband thought it was our turn for a road trip. We just got the station wagon; I think he wanted to take it for an extended spin."

Renee chuckled, then glanced into the living room. Open suitcases rested on the sofa, toys strewn about. "Well, sounds like other than one missing bear, you've had a good time."

"We have," Beth smiled. "Now that the kids are older, we can travel more often."

"Well, unless Roy gets his way," Vivian said slyly.

Beth shook her head. "Two's enough for me. If he wants another, he can have it."

Vivian giggled and Renee smiled. Then that sentiment rumbled through her head; Frannie had said that to Renee when telling her about the twins. While Vivian and Beth kept chattering, Renee shivered, then asked God to help her move past that. Sam was eager for them to adopt, but Eric's departure had interrupted. Maybe this errand was God's way of reminding Renee that....

"We should let you get home." Vivian patted Renee's shoulder. "But I do thank you for driving over here."

"We only live a few blocks away," Renee said. "But yeah, Sam's waiting for me."

"Tell him we appreciate his patience." Vivian led Renee to the door. "How's he feeling?"

"Back to himself, thank you." Renee smiled, then glanced at Beth. "Have a safe drive home."

"Oh, we will. And now it'll be a relatively quiet one too. Nice meeting you again and yes, thanks a million for this." Beth gripped the bear. "You're a lifesaver."

"Just a nurse," Renee laughed. "See you Monday Vivian."

"Bright and early," Vivian grinned.

Renee nodded, walking briskly to her car. She made a three-point-turn while Vivian and Beth remained on the front lawn, waving as she drove away. When Renee reached the stop sign, a man approached the crosswalk, a child on either side of him. The girl's red hair blew in the slight breeze while the boy gestured to nothing in particular. That must be.... Renee looked at them and the man met her gaze. He smiled as she nodded, then the trio skipped past her, their voices a pleasant hum. Renee thought she heard the man say something about Aunt Vivian, but he didn't mention the missing toy. In her side mirror, Renee watched them walk along the sidewalk, then the father scooped up his daughter as the boy ran ahead. Renee said another prayer, then drove through the intersection, breathing deeply until she reached home.

While doing dishes, Sam considered his wife's news about those in Florida. At first Sam had been relieved, then slightly disturbed, the latter which he chalked up to Seth. If he was that unwell, would Eric's presence make any difference? Sam missed his best friend, although he was glad not to be posing in front of the Chevy anymore. Yet even that would be all right, for since Eric left, a huge hole lingered in Sam's heart. Then he gazed at Renee, who had been unusually quiet earlier that evening. Now she sat at the kitchen table, talking to her mother, their conversation nothing to do with what Renee had spilled to Sam. Renee and Marie spoke about Ritchie, who was again living under his parents' roof. But this time it was for more than to dry out.

Marie seemed to be doing most of the talking, for Renee's contributions were relegated to Uh-huh's and I see's. Sam had said much the same when Renee told him that Eric was in Miami, and how bad Seth seemed. But something else was on Renee's mind, yet Sam hadn't prodded, too much on his own. And once she got off the phone, Sam might not have a chance to ask what else was going on, for Renee would reiterate the family gossip. Sam wasn't eager to learn about Ritchie's latest setback. From Renee's anguished tone, Sam had to wonder if perhaps one Nolan offspring would indeed get a divorce.

Yet, it wasn't Renee. Sam considered that notion as he dumped out the washtub, then turned it upside down to dry. He sat beside his wife, who immediately gripped his hand. Renee's fingers were cold and tears dotted her cheeks. Sam's heart raced as she ended the phone call. Only once the receiver rested in its cradle did Renee let out a soft cry. "Mom says that Brenda's saying she's had enough. Oh Sam, I think this time Brenda might actually...."

Sam embraced his wife as Renee shed a few tears. She wiped her face, then sighed. "But I can't say I blame her. He's never gonna get sober and...." Then Renee stared at Sam. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What honey?" Whatever was bothering Renee probably wasn't on the scale of what would keep Marie from sleeping that night, or the next several. What would trouble Marie more, Sam mused, that Ritchie would be divorced or that his drinking had caused it? Probably the former, Sam allowed. Then Sam stroked his wife's face. Being a parent never ended, the worries ever present. Had Renee changed her mind again, Sam mused. "Baby, just tell me. I love you."

Renee stood, then clutched the back of her chair. "We haven't talked about adoption since Eric left. But he's there now and even if Seth...." Renee paused, then shrugged. "Even if he doesn't get better, that has nothing to do with...." She shook her head. "Seth or Ritchie, either one. Sam, I had to run an errand on my way home." Renee explained that task and as she did, Sam's heart pounded in his chest. Her tone was conciliatory, then she inhaled, letting it out slowly. "I know why that happened, because...." Renee retook her seat, grasping Sam's hands. Her eyes were again filled with tears, but she smiled. "Maybe the timing isn't great, but if not now, we'll never do it. Unless you've had second thoughts." Her voice trailed off and she gazed at the floor. "And if you have, that's fine." Renee cleared her throat, then looked at her husband. "And I mean it. If you've...."

"No, I still wanna...." Was the timing inappropriate, Sam wondered. Eric probably wouldn't care and Renee's mother might find another grandchild a welcome distraction. "I'll call Father Markham tomorrow, double check with him about that orphanage. Oh honey, are you sure?"

Excitement hedged Sam's tone, but he couldn't help it. This had to be why Renee was a little late that night, plus now she was even with Vivian. Sam had realized that small debt hanging over his wife's head, not that he thought of it that way, but now Renee was even with her co-worker. Lynne would be thrilled for them and Sam hugged his wife, not needing words to express himself. Renee merely nodded, but her tears poured freely. By the time the Aherns went to bed, Renee was composed, but it took ages for Sam to fall asleep. All he pondered was calling their priest in the morning.

Father Markham was on a retreat until the end of the month, Sam was informed by Father Riley, who said he would leave a message for the younger priest to return Sam's call. On Saturday, the Aherns visited Lynne and Jane, but neither Sam nor Renee mentioned their decision. Lynne seemed preoccupied, but Jane was chatty, then the foursome was joined by Marek, who also acted pensive. But Sam and Renee didn't inquire. They enjoyed time with their godchild, then talked about Jane on their way home.

After the Aherns departed, Lynne put Jane down for a nap. Marek remained in the kitchen, and when Lynne returned, a letter waited on the table. Lynne sat across from her pastor, then she picked up the envelope. "Well," she started, "do you have any guesses?"

Marek gripped his mug, then took a small sip from it. "I don't know anyone in Oslo, although...." He set down the coffee cup, then met Lynne's gaze. "The handwriting is vaguely familiar. But I can't imagine who this Mrs. Henrichsen could be."

For the first time, Lynne felt Marek was hiding something. If Eric was there, she would remain quiet while the men hashed out the possibilities. Yet, Marek had introduced this subject and it would be rude of Lynne to ignore it. "Renee wondered if she might be someone you knew in Britain. But I suppose not."

"No, I didn't know any Norwegians there." Marek toyed with the mug's handle, then he stood from the table, leaning back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, then sighed. "I don't know how much I can tell you about those days, how much you would prefer not to know."

Lynne bristled; he didn't mean his time in London. She nodded, then clasped her hands together, setting them on the table. "Eric's told me a little, I mean...." She gazed around the room, wishing her husband was there. Then she looked at Marek, his brown eyes so mournful. "If this's something you need to share, of course I'll listen."

Lynne had never seen her pastor so pained. Marek retook his seat, then grasped the letter. "The handwriting is similar to someone I knew back home." Then he sighed. "But it must be a coincidence. Occasionally that's all these oddities are."

Now he smiled, which eased Lynne's racing heart. "Maybe that's all it is."

Marek shrugged, tracing the woman's handwriting. "I've considered writing to her, just to satisfy my curiosity. But that would be presumptuous."

"Perhaps not," Lynne said. "She asked a rather personal question." Then Lynne smiled. "Jane might have Sam's blue eyes, but her hair is the same color as yours."

"And yours," Marek grinned. "Was she born with such blue eyes?"

Lynne nodded. "They've never changed."

"An amazing hue, worthy of her father's talent." Then Marek cleared his throat. "I've been thinking of your husband and Seth when not pondering this letter." He placed the envelope back on the table. "I'd like to say I feel Eric will be home soon but...."

"Perhaps it's best to not think about it." Lynne couldn't help but set her hand on her belly. "I wish Laurie knew the truth."

Marek looked startled, then he chuckled. "That would be handy for us, if not a lot for Laurie to ponder."

"We all seem to have too much on our minds." Lynne reached for her glass of water, then sipped slowly. "But maybe that helps. We can't obsess over just one issue."

"Indeed." Marek finished his coffee, setting the mug next to the letter. "Well, I should be on my way." He stood, taking his cup to the sink. When he turned around, Lynne waited near the counter, the envelope in her hand.

Marek gazed at it, then at Lynne. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Eric won't miss it. Maybe it wasn't for him in the first place."

"Perhaps not." Marek chuckled, then he sighed. "She was someone I grew up with, someone dear to me." Gingerly he took the letter from Lynne's hand. "Or maybe I want her to be that person. She's Mrs. Henrichsen if nothing else. And yes, perhaps this wasn't for Eric after all."

"Might she still be alive?" Lynne asked.

"Maybe. I honestly don't know."

His tone was haunted, making Lynne shiver. Their eyes met, a flicker of anguish in Marek's gaze. Lynne brushed away tears, first her own, then a few that rolled down her pastor's cheeks. Yet more caught in his beard, which made him smile. "It's like thinking about another life, one not my own anymore." He sighed, then continued. "I'll just answer her query. That no, I'm only an uncle. But a very blessed one at that." Marek wiped his face, then smiled. "And if she writes again, perhaps I'll end up with a pen pal. Thank goodness she knows English or someone who does."

Lynne nodded, but couldn't speak. Marek said nothing more, silently taking his leave, the envelope gripped tightly in his hand.
Chapter 123

As a hawk, Eric wasn't bothered by the elements; Miami was sultry, but cooling rains eased any discomfort Eric might notice. Food was plentiful; he enjoyed lizards in addition to rodents, and other creatures left him alone mostly due to his bulk. Birds of prey roamed the skies, but Eric was the largest of them all.

It was his size that Laurie found the most odd, not that he'd had experience with hawks or any other kind of fowl. Yet this bird was enormous, and it seemed very happy to rest near Seth's room. Sometimes Laurie found it near his car, yet it never seemed menacing, although Laurie had observed it killing smaller creatures. Laurie told his aunt and uncle about the bird, and Sheila asked if there was any way Laurie could direct the hawk to their house. Lizards still climbed the screens, but Laurie smiled, noting that the hawk seemed to have found a home at the Kerr Hospital. Mickey and Sheila said little, for neither wanted to talk about their nephew. But Laurie found the hawk fascinating, and he didn't mind speaking about Seth. For the first time, Laurie carried no fears about his cousin's health. Perhaps it was being far from Brooklyn, maybe Norah had altered Laurie's thoughts. Or was it that this time whether Seth lived or died wasn't only on Laurie's shoulders; a massive hawk had taken a distinct interest in Seth and Laurie was happy to share that burden.

Laurie had explained the hawk to his mother and aunt, for it was an interesting anecdote that lightened their otherwise staid conversations. With Stanford, Laurie extrapolated about the bird, but didn't delve into Seth's condition. Stanford was vacillating about traveling south, and Laurie didn't pressure him. It would be hard for the men to spend time together, and there was nothing that Stan could offer Seth in the way of healing. Laurie missed Stanford desperately, and knew Stan felt the same. But for the time being, it was best that they remain apart. Laurie's tenure in Florida wasn't going to be long-term; Seth was going to move forward or....

As Laurie drove to the hospital, he pondered that concept. Had the hawk provided Laurie with a clearer vision than he'd previously possessed, was Norah's involvement a turning point, or maybe it was simply being away from New York, although Laurie hadn't felt like this in Minneapolis. In the Midwest, he'd harbored that ages-old sense of sameness, that for the rest of the cousins' lives Seth would always be unwell and Laurie would be constantly picking up the pieces. Or maybe Laurie had appropriated that role for himself as though by taking it on, Seth would live. But that wasn't Laurie's job, even if he remained in Miami for the unforeseeable future. Stanford had gently pressed for Laurie's return date, and while Laurie hadn't given him one, it wasn't as if that date loitered aimlessly above them. It was near to Laurie's grasp, but he wouldn't venture a guess if Seth would join him on the trip home. Laurie reached the hospital, parking in the back of the lot where few cars waited. He liked the solitude and the chance to stretch his legs. And the walk later in the day, while hot, would give him another moment to reflect upon this temporary but important upheaval in his usual routine. His clients were being looked after by another dealer, Stan could manage even with Agatha on vacation. Laurie needed to write to Lynne, keeping her and Eric in the loop. But for now, Laurie's main role was that of.... As he approached the building, he paused, staring at dark clouds on the horizon. He didn't mind the rain, it was different. Then he glanced at the hospital; this time something was set to change.

He knew the desk clerks, but still gave his name and that of whom he was there to visit. A young man greeted Laurie with a smile, then noted that Seth was still in a session with Dr. Sellers. Laurie gazed around the lobby where others waited. "I'll take a little walk, be back in fifteen minutes," he said.

The receptionist nodded, then answered the ringing telephone. Laurie stepped to the entrance, taking his leave. He scanned the grounds, where patients were not allowed unless accompanied by staff. As far as Laurie knew, Seth had yet to step foot outside since he'd been admitted. And Laurie assumed that would remain the case until Seth either accepted the hawk, or was taken out in a manner which Laurie didn't wish to consider.

The hawk's arrival still reverberated within Laurie's head as he made his way along the sidewalk to the start of the parking lot. A stiff wind now blew and Laurie gazed back to the increasing clouds; he hadn't cracked his windows, not wishing to return to the interior of Aunt Sheila's car soaking wet. Laurie had offered to get a rental, but the Goldsmiths had insisted that Laurie use Sheila's vehicle. He coordinated his hospital visits with Sheila's schedule, giving himself a few hours to spend with a man who at first hadn't seemed to care whether he lived or died. After the hawk's arrival, Seth had grown upset, which to Laurie was positive. Dr. Sellers thought so too, although neither knew exactly why Seth was so bothered by the bird, which Seth always addressed as he. Laurie assumed it was a substitute for someone Seth had known in Korea, someone perhaps like Sam's best friend who hadn't made it home. Neither Larry nor Josh, Laurie sighed, strolling through the parking lot. Who else had been lost, Laurie wondered, somebody important that Seth had needed to forget. Yet, now that poor soul was causing Seth great consternation. About time, Laurie smirked, kicking loose gravel. Small rocks flew into the air, landing with little thuds onto the concrete. Laurie thought of them as dead soldiers; Josh, Larry, and....

Somebody who was now a thorn in Seth's side. Laurie turned to face the building; was Seth still speaking to Dr. Sellers, was Seth talking at all? All Seth said to Laurie was to get that hawk out of there, get him away. Him.... Whoever this hawk was to Seth was the key. Laurie smiled at himself; not that healing Seth's problems would be simple, but maybe it wasn't all to do with The Holocaust. Perhaps Korea figured just as prominently. As raindrops fell, Laurie turned back for the building. Right as he stepped inside, a thundercloud erupted, and a downpour started. People about to leave retook their seats, sighing as they did so. Laurie hid his smile, glad he'd made it back just in time.

He approached the desk, speaking with a different receptionist, who noted that Seth was available for visitors. The woman then took Laurie's name, and the time of his arrival. A member of staff would check on Laurie and Seth in twenty minutes, and would do so for the entirety of Laurie's stay. The routine was the same every day, even down to Laurie stopping in the men's room before he reached where Seth waited. Laurie would knock once, as a warning. And as he did so that day, he felt a brief chill. Did Seth require that heads-up, or was Laurie in need of making the announcement?

"Hello," Laurie said, opening the door. As it closed behind him, the familiar latch clicked, but this time Laurie heard it differently, more like the pop of a BB gun. He turned around, but nothing seemed amiss. Then he gazed at his cousin, who sat on the edge of his bed, not facing the window. Seth glanced Laurie's way, but didn't make eye contact. He was dressed in loose trousers and a long white shirt, his hair cut short. It had been getting lengthy, and Laurie wondered who had initiated the change.

"Hey, your hair looks good." Laurie approached the bed, but wouldn't sit beside Seth. Instead he pulled up a chair, then sat down, leaving a couple of feet between them. Laurie leaned back, hearing rain from outside. "I nearly got caught in the storm. Just beat it though. Was wandering around, waiting for...."

He hadn't been looking for the hawk, just killing time. Kicking stones as if he was a kid, then Laurie smiled. Seth kept stealing peeks at the window, but all Laurie saw was a driving rain. He would stay until it passed, although maybe not all of that time would be spent sitting across from Seth. If he didn't want to talk, Laurie wouldn't press. He'd return to the lobby and watch the rain from there. Maybe the hawk would fly by, he smiled to himself. Or maybe that bird had found refuge elsewhere.

Laurie wanted to ask, he felt mischievous. He hadn't felt this young in ages, maybe he needed to kick gravel more often or maybe.... "I wonder if that hawk found a dry place to wait out the storm."

Now Seth stared at Laurie, but his mood was hard to gauge; Seth wanted to project anger, but curiosity lingered in his eyes. Laurie stood, then walked to the window. He scanned the area, but didn't see any animals. "I hope he's smart enough to not get soaked. I imagine he is though." Laurie felt a little strange, referring to the bird as he, but maybe this way, Seth might elaborate. If nothing else, it felt better rolling off his tongue. That bird was too vital to be called it.

Laurie was reminded of how before Jane was born, Lynne had always called the baby she; rarely had Lynne said he, and Laurie wondered how Lynne considered the next child. Would the Snyders have another girl, he smiled, or perhaps a boy. "Easier to say he," he said somewhat absently. Then he turned around, finding Seth still with his back to the window. "Did I tell you Eric and Lynne are expecting another baby?"

"What?" Seth whipped around, his eyes wide. "Lynne's.... Oh my God, no!"

"No, it's good. Seth, it's all right, I mean, I guess everything's fine." Laurie walked back toward the bed, sitting across from where Seth still faced him. "Why is it bad for them to have another baby?"

Maybe whoever the hawk stood for had been a father, Laurie pondered, as Seth shook his head, not meeting Laurie's gaze. Seth gripped the blanket and Laurie fought the urge to reach for Seth's hand. He wanted to tell Seth that he now understood why the hawk possessed a masculine pronoun, but Seth trembled, deeply troubled by Laurie's news.

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said anything. She's not three months along yet, well, maybe she is." Laurie did the math; there in early August, Lynne was almost four months along, which stunned him. Hadn't they just learned this, where had the last several weeks gone? Then Laurie gripped Seth's quivering hand. Some had been spent near this man, but all of this time in Florida felt to Laurie like moments that would best be forgotten. Maybe all these years had been wasted, hoping Seth could reclaim some modicum of sanity. Laurie peered at another hospital room with bars on the window, the door locked from the outside. Then Laurie gazed at Seth, his hair cut like he was back in the army, or shorn like a....

"Who cut your hair?" Laurie spoke softly, still grasping Seth's hand.

"I dunno. Somebody." Seth's voice was more like a croak. But he looked up, then for seconds met Laurie's gaze. Then he stared toward the window, but Laurie had no idea if Seth was searching for the hawk.

"Who is he?" Laurie then asked. "You keep calling it a he. You can tell me Seth. We're here to help you, but we can't do that unless you talk about this."

Seth nodded, but didn't speak or make eye contact. Laurie nearly sighed aloud, but that wouldn't be helpful. Yet he felt close to a small breakthrough; Seth had expressed dismay that the Snyders were having another child, the strongest emotion he'd exhibited since the hawk's arrival.

"I love you and I wanna help, but my hands are tied unless you talk about this." Had Dr. Sellers said the same earlier, Laurie wondered. Probably, but in a more clinical manner. "Seth, Sam Ahern told me about his best friend, his name was Josh. And another man, Larry, but his given name was Lawrence." Now Laurie smiled. "He said I looked more like a Laurie and that way he wouldn't have gotten us mixed up. I know I wasn't there, that I probably won't understand, but that's not the point. The point is you need to speak about these things, these people. They mean something to you and...."

Seth removed his hand from Laurie's, then stood, walking to the window. Laurie turned around, watching his cousin place his hands on the panes, where outside water continued to pour down. Laurie wanted to join Seth; perhaps the hawk was waiting on the cement. But Laurie remained on the bed as Seth stood still.

"I know it was awful, God, that's so weak. Seth, what do you remember, why did you...." Laurie bit his tongue; what possible reason had made this once-intuitive man even consider joining the army? Why had Sam enlisted, Laurie then wondered. He'd been married already, was it patriotism? As teenagers their generation had lived through the Second World War and while Laurie had been drafted, thank God it was nearly over by then. The idea of combat held no fascination, maybe that was due to his homosexuality. But why had Seth felt it necessary, what had he needed to prove?

Laurie stood, then slowly walked to where Seth remained. No animals could be seen, just water accumulating in puddles. Laurie glanced upward; a dull gray sky looked in no hurry to clear. "Seth, I've got time, I'm not going out in that mess. But if you can't tell me, that's okay. I want you to think about it, or maybe that's all you think about." Now Laurie let out an anguished sigh. "Maybe I should go, maybe...."

Seth gripped Laurie's hand. "He's out there, but he should go home. She needs him."

"Who Seth? Tell me his name, can you do that?"

Seth shook his head, but still clutched Laurie's hand. "The last place he should be is here."

"Maybe, but he's here for a reason, he's here to help you." Laurie scanned the small courtyard. "Maybe tomorrow we could go out looking for him. If it's dry," Laurie added with a smile.

"He needs to go home. She needs him."

Laurie was taken aback at Seth's worried tone. "Well, maybe he feels she'll be okay without him. Personally, I think you need him more. You need to talk about him. Can you tell me his name?"

Laurie would never forget the way Sam had spoken about Josh from Mississippi, like that man had been in the next room playing cards. Laurie didn't assume Sam had blithely forgotten how Josh had died, but somehow Sam had set his friend, his best friend, in better hands. The hands of his Catholic God, Laurie permitted. "Seth, this man, was he your friend?"

"I've never met him. But he needs to go home. He shouldn't stay here."

Now Seth's voice was vacant, making Laurie shiver. He didn't want to lose ground, yet was this his place? He had no training other than managing fickle sculptors. Then Laurie took a breath, letting it out slowly. Long ago his cousin had been his client. "Seth, if you've never met him, how do you know him?"

As Laurie finished speaking, a ray of sunshine illuminated wet concrete. Laurie looked up, but didn't see a rainbow. Then a hawk landed near a substantial puddle. The rain stopped while the bird dipped his beak into the water. Seth removed his hand from Laurie's, placing his palms against the glass. "Go home, you know that's where you oughta be." Seth spoke loudly, leaning close to the glass, pressing the tip of his nose to the pane. "You can't do anything for me, but she needs you."

The hawk looked up, staring at both men. Laurie's heart raced, feeling as if he knew that creature. But it gave all of its attention to Seth, who remained against the window. "Go home," he repeated, this time more quietly. "Just let me...."

The bird squawked, then hopped as close as he could get to the building but still be viewed from inside. Laurie was mesmerized as the bird tapped its left foot, and was he shaking his head? His wings were still folded down, but Laurie felt like the bird wanted to cross them over his chest.

Seth kept muttering that the hawk needed to go, his face still pressed against the windowpane. Laurie would relay all of this to whoever was available, then would ask to meet with Dr. Sellers; he wanted to know what he could do the next time this occurred. For as much as Seth pleaded with the hawk, it seemed immoveable. Finally Seth walked away, offering various epithets. As he flopped onto his mattress, Laurie remained at the window, caught in the bird's gaze. Those eyes were so knowledgeable, making Laurie shiver. "You're an odd creature," he said. "But whoever you are, maybe you're just what we need."

The hawk seemed to nod, then hopped back to the puddle, where it took another drink. Then it flew off, making a loud caw as it did so. Laurie had moved to Seth's spot at the window, his hands placed where Seth's had been. Laurie remained there for a moment, wishing for the bird's return. The sun now shone, its reflection in the puddle making Laurie blink. He turned to see his cousin curled in the fetal position, but Laurie wasn't worried. He peered out of the window, then smiled. "Hurry back," he whispered. "We do need you."
Chapter 124

In the middle of August, Lynne saw Dr. Salters, who didn't ask where was Lynne's husband. The doctor did pronounce that all was well, then she gingerly inquired where the Snyders were planning on having their second child. Lynne sighed, then smiled. "At home, although perhaps in one of the other bedrooms."

Dr. Salters smiled. "Well yes, I imagine by now Jane would be a little perturbed to be uprooted from the nursery."

Lynne nodded. "Yeah, I don't think she'd appreciate that."

The doctor helped Lynne off the exam table, then chuckled softly. "She certainly won't remember it, but in the short term, if you have another room available, that would be best."

Dr. Salters wanted to see Lynne again in October and Lynne made that appointment before she left the office, trying not to wonder if Eric would accompany her. Driving away, she paid attention to leafy trees, although they were losing their deep green luster. She headed for St. Matthew's, where Mrs. Kenny was watching Jane. Sam had offered, but Lynne knew the church secretary loved doting on the youngest Snyder, not to mention a certain pastor who was probably doing just as much of the babysitting.

Lynne parked in front of the church, noting blooming flowers on both sides of the steps. She smiled, curious if Mrs. Harmon was still badgering Marek about the foliage. As she took those steps, Lynne pondered another woman of whom Marek hadn't spoken since that day in Lynne's kitchen. Yet that had been a few weeks back; had he replied to Mrs. Henrichsen?

Lynne didn't bother to knock, opening the front doors and going right into the vestibule. Then she smiled, hearing her daughter's broad laughter from what sounded like the back of the corridor. Lynne followed that happy sound until she reached the kitchen. Slowly she poked her head around the doorway, finding Jane seated on Carla's lap, Marek sitting beside them and a plate of cookies just past Jane's reach.

"Hello," Lynne called, stepping into the room.

Jane met her mother's gaze, then clapped. "Mama!"

Marek turned around, smiling widely. "Well hello there. Care for a biscuit and a spot of tea?"

"That sounds lovely." Lynne sat down, not missing how Mrs. Kenny tenderly shook her head. Since Eric had left, Lynne had allowed this twosome to keep an eye on Jane, and in doing so, a mother had discerned a unique relationship between a pastor and his secretary. Perhaps Mrs. Kenny had initially found Marek's foreignness irksome, but those habits had grown on Carla, maybe eased by Jane's charming countenance. Around Jane, Marek exhibited an even more endearing nature, which now made Lynne teary. Had she been brash in telling Dr. Salters that another home birth was on the horizon? Lynne hadn't spoken about it yet with Renee, although she knew the Aherns would be more than willing to assist, but Sam's role would remain within the downstairs. Could Lynne deliver with only the doctor and one capable nurse?

Not that she wanted either Mrs. Kenny or Marek at such an intimate station. Although, if Marek wanted to support Sam, Lynne would be pleased for his inclusion. Someone would need to keep an eye on Jane, which made Lynne sigh. Then she smiled as Marek set a cup of tea in front of her, pushing the plate of cookies within her reach. She met his grin with her own, then took a chocolate cookie, dipping the edge of it in her mug. Jane called for mother, and seemed to say cookie, what Mrs. Kenny claimed as Lynne enjoyed her treat. After Lynne sipped her tea, she cleared her throat. "I wouldn't be surprised if she did say cookie. She talks all the time, although I don't understand two-thirds of it."

"I'd thought she'd know pie by now," Marek laughed.

Lynne nodded. "I think she definitely knows what that means."

Then Lynne frowned, but she looked at the table, hoping to hide it. Since Eric left, Lynne had tried to maintain the same level of communication, but sometimes she found herself and Jane in the middle of silent stretches. Then Lynne would speak at length about a manner of subjects, trying to interject Eric into whatever popped into a mother's train of thought. But in the evenings, when Lynne was weary, often little was spoken as Jane drifted off to sleep in a house devoid of activity. Sometimes the Aherns visited, but eventually it was only a twosome, even if another baby was on the way.

It had been one thing to consider Eric's absence, but living without him was harder than Lynne had thought. Yet, the difficulties weren't like those she had encountered previously. This time single parenthood was Lynne's biggest issue, or more rightly, keeping Eric as viable as she could make him. Daily mother and daughter visited the studio or trekked about the garden, but Lynne was running out of interesting tidbits to share with Jane and a baby that Lynne was just starting to feel fluttering inside her. She hadn't mentioned that to Dr. Salters, expecting the physician to not yet believe the baby was making his or herself known to its mother. But last night Lynne had laid in bed for over twenty minutes, her hand placed against a no longer flat belly, as that baby did what Lynne assumed were somersaults, just as Jane once had. Lynne had spoken softly to her unborn child, noting how much she was loved, then laughing at herself. Again she was referring to the baby as a girl; would Jane have a little sister?

Last week, Lynne had received letters from Agatha and Stanford, and both had inquired, although in different ways. Agatha asked straight out, while Stanford delicately placed his query at nearly the end of the note. Then Lynne sighed again. Stanford knew Eric was gone, not that Lynne had said anything. But he hadn't talked to his client in weeks, and this note had been addressed to only Lynne. She had mentioned this to Renee and Sam a few nights back, and all were relieved that if nothing else, Stanford had enough tact to not ask outright. Would he tell Laurie, Renee had wondered, and if so, might Laurie put two and two together....

Sam had pooh-poohed both notions, stating that Laurie had enough on his mind. Seth had stopped responding to any form of treatments, not that Sam brought that up, but Lynne and both Aherns knew that Eric's presence had distinctly affected Seth, although not as any of them had hoped. And while neither Renee nor Sam said it aloud, Lynne knew they wondered if maybe Eric would simply turn back for home. He had made the effort, wasn't that enough? Laurie had mentioned the hawk in his last correspondence, but that had been over a week ago, and Lynne hadn't heard anything since. She wasn't sure if Stanford knew about the bird, nor did she expect him to bring it up. He wouldn't write to her about more than Jane and the upcoming baby, not wishing to deluge an expectant mother with anything remotely unpleasant, especially since he seemed aware that Eric was again away. Then Lynne smiled, which turned into a giggle. Laurie might put two and two together regarding Eric and an errant bird of prey, but not his partner.

Then Lynne looked up, finding her pastor's knowledgeable gaze cast her way. She nodded, reaching for his hand, giving it a brief squeeze. Mrs. Kenny was speaking to Jane, not aware of all that her boss and Mrs. Snyder had shared. Then the secretary sighed, handing the toddler to Marek. "I should get back to work. But Mrs. Snyder, I do appreciate this break in my day. All my grandchildren live out of state. I keep telling my husband it's time for him to retire so we can do some traveling, but he's just like Pastor here, always busy."

Marek laughed. "Mrs. Kenny, if your husband retires and you two fly the coop, what will I do?"

"You'll make due." Carla snorted as she spoke, then looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, I mean...." Then she tickled Jane's cheek. "It's just that they're little for such a short time. My oldest granddaughter is eight already, my goodness. Time just flies and...."

The secretary abruptly stopped speaking. She glanced in Lynne's direction, her lip trembling, her eyes as if beseeching forgiveness. Lynne wondered what Marek might have said, if anything, or maybe nothing was necessary. Eric had been gone for nearly six weeks and while Lynne had never openly noted where he was, most assumed he was on a painting retreat, even if his wife was expecting. What excuse would Lynne eventually offer if Eric remained in Florida? And just where would she deliver their next baby?

Mrs. Kenny kissed the top of Jane's head, then exited the kitchen without further words. Jane watched her walk away, then she reached toward the plate of cookies. Lynne moved them to the far side of the table, stirring Jane's ire, which was immediately calmed by a string of Polish uttered in a soothing tone. To Lynne's amazement, Jane quieted, then seemed to emit a sigh. But Marek chuckled while Jane played with her empty cup. Lynne stroked her daughter's head. "What did you tell her?"

"Oh just that if she ate all the cookies now, there wouldn't be any for her next visit. My Aunt Agi used to tell us the same and it worked for years." Then Marek laughed. "Once we realized the ruse, it became a game. How would those cookies keep from getting stale, or what if Uncle Alex ate them all?" Marek had a happy sigh. "Children can be easily dissuaded at times, especially if a greater good stands behind the excuse."

Lynne fought tears; she had never heard him speak about his life in Poland, yet now that one barrier had fallen, perhaps more were set to tumble. "How many siblings did you have?" she asked softly.

"Two, an older brother and a younger sister. But so many cousins, it felt like more. We were all close in age, my parents' siblings lived near, there must have been...." He sighed in resignation, then shook his head. "So, how are you and baby number two doing?"

Lynne nodded, for she couldn't speak. Tears trickled down her face and she reached for a napkin in the center of the table. She wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. "We're fine," she warbled.

Marek squeezed her hand. "That's good." But his voice was shaky. Then he turned Jane to face her mother. "Your daughter was trying to learn typing, but Mrs. Kenny thought a biscuit would be better. Well, she said cookie, but Jane didn't seem to care what we called them." Marek smiled, then released Lynne's hand, giving her another napkin. "We only gave her two, neither with chocolate, although that was Mrs. Kenny's doing. Thank goodness Jane didn't notice."

Then Marek spoke in Polish as Lynne tried to compose herself. She hadn't cried since receiving Laurie's letter about the hawk's arrival and how poorly Seth remained. Laurie hadn't minced words, but then he hadn't expected Lynne as the only one reading his warnings, for that's what his sentiments had been. He was preparing the Snyders for the worst, regardless of a hawk or Lynne's pregnancy. Stanford wouldn't note such dire information, but no longer did Laurie write anything between the lines.

What might his next note reveal? If Seth's condition worsened significantly, one of the New Yorkers would call, of that Lynne was certain. Then perhaps Eric would be on his way home, although she would have to excuse his absence for the short term. Yet, that scenario made Lynne nauseous. She sipped her tea, fully aware this had nothing to do with morning sickness, only the most grievous loss. She couldn't lament Eric's absence when many others had died far too soon.

She stared at her pastor, still speaking in Polish. Jane babbled in agreement, making Lynne smile. Yet her heart throbbed and her stomach remained queasy. She took another cookie, munching quietly, but Jane heard her, turning to find Lynne wiping crumbs from her mouth. "Mama," the little girl called. "Mine!"

Jane stretched out her arms and Lynne acquiesced, crooning her daughter's name as Jane settled happily into Lynne's grasp. Cookies were forgotten as the toddler snuggled against her mother. Then Lynne gasped, making Marek stare. "What?" he asked.

"The baby, I feel the baby." Now Lynne wept freely, laughing as she did so. "Someone doesn't like their big sister too close."

"Really?" Marek chuckled. "Well, that's a sticky situation. I wonder how this crisis will be resolved?"

"Probably with less fuss than last October." Lynne placed Jane's hand where the flutters were strongest. She knew it was only for show, for the movements were slight. Jane kept her hand there briefly, then she reached toward the cookies. Lynne chuckled, wiping her face with yet another napkin Marek had set near her. Jane repeated mine, interspersed with something in Polish that was directed solely at her pastor. Both adults laughed, but neither met Jane's request for an extra treat.

Marek carried Jane to Lynne's car, but Lynne didn't put Jane right into the baby seat. While no more was said about Marek's family, Lynne did have one question to ask. "Have you written to her yet?"

Lynne didn't need to mention the woman's name as Marek nodded his head. "Just last week actually." He tickled Jane's chin, then kissed her cheek. "Took me longer than I thought. Every time I sat down there was an interruption. At first I wondered if God wanted to keep me from that task. But I felt too much relief." Marek smiled, switching Jane to his other side. "Finally I sat when I knew nothing would distract me. It still took a while but...." He grinned again. "We'll see if she responds. Have you heard any more from the New Yorkers?"

His tone was light, which made Lynne smile, as well as how he used that term. "I got letters from Queens and Manhattan. Agatha wants to know if I'm having a girl and Stanford pretty much asked the same." Lynne chuckled, setting her hand on the baby. "If nothing else, I can reply to Agatha that this creature is indeed moving around now."

"And what will you tell Stanford?"

"Probably no more than I'm fine and...." She sighed. "He knows Eric's gone, he addressed the letter to me, which he never does. Laurie does, but...." Lynne stared at Marek, who nodded his head. Did he understand the men's connection? So many secrets remained, making Lynne dizzy. She leaned against the hood of the car, closing her eyes. She prayed, wondering what Marek would think if he knew about Stanford and Laurie. It probably wouldn't be that hard to comprehend, or at least much easier than if those men were told of Eric's whereabouts. How could she keep that secret, she wondered, opening her eyes. Marek was still looking her way, but his gaze was gentle on her. Did he know, she wondered, had Eric told him before he left? She nearly asked, but Jane began to fuss. Lynne stood straight, relieving Marek of his charge.

As that phrase ran through Lynne's mind, she inhaled sharply. "I hope you hear back from her." Then Lynne sighed. "So many loose ends these days."

"It does seem there are more questions than answers right now. At times like this, I feel God is asking for our trust. He knows all the outcomes, but simply wants us to place our hand in his, allowing him to lead us to solid ground. Sometimes the journey might seem lonely, but Lynne...." Marek set his palm against Jane's face. She stopped fussing, gazing right at her pastor. "All is well, regardless of how it may seem."

Lynne wanted to nod, but she was taken at the slight wariness of Marek's tone. Then their eyes met; the depth of his brown irises bore into Lynne's soul, and she found herself nodding without reservation. Jane too seemed calmer, as she rested her head against Lynne's shoulder. Marek released her face, then placed his hand upon Lynne's other shoulder. He started to speak, then shook his head. Instead he said something in Polish which made Jane laugh. Lynne smiled as Marek then wished them both a good afternoon. He opened the car's back door, then took Jane from her mother, placing her in the baby seat. Marek closed the door, again squeezing Lynne's shoulder. Without words she got behind the wheel, but she glanced at Marek before pulling away. His brown eyes conveyed far more than words would have, and Lynne felt his prayers within her heart. As she drove home, she hoped Eric, Seth, and the rest knew the strength of that peace, about which she shared with Jane, who gabbed like she understood.
Chapter 125

Early on Monday, the nineteenth of August, Stanford finalized the latter half of what was turning out to be one of his greatest accomplishments as an art dealer. None of his other clients had been featured in so many European galleries, nor had any of his father or grandfather's artists. But Eric Snyder was becoming famous all over that continent, and with a completed list of venues, Stanford felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction that if not for one niggle would bring him intense pleasure. Well, two issues. One was bound up in Florida. The other was.... Stanford sighed, glossing over those last dates on the tour, which were now set in stone. Eric's canvases wouldn't return until late March of next year, not with all the Italian and French museums that had been added to the itinerary. But those who had clamored for a chance to show the paintings were included, and woe to the Soviets who had to have heard of how gifted was this American painter. Stanford felt badly for those behind the Iron Curtain, missing the opportunity to admire his client's talent. Then he sighed long and loud. Once again Eric was missing out on such gushing adoration. But this time Stanford would let his client make the first move.

Stanford wasn't going to badger Lynne, in part that she was pregnant and that.... He set the papers to the side of his desk, staring at the door. There was some element of Eric's life that was simply beyond Stanford's need to know. He had no idea what it could be, which before had vexed him. Now Stanford had to move past the mystery, and maybe it was good other topics existed, although Seth's sharp decline wasn't exactly what Stanford wanted to consider. What was worse, he then wondered, turning his chair to face the window, that again Eric had abandoned his pregnant wife or that Laurie's cousin was in such poor straits that shock therapy was once more being administered. Laurie had broken down on the phone last night, relaying that information. Dr. Sellers had no other choice, Laurie noted, and he wasn't going to visit Seth for a few days. Stanford had hoped Laurie would say he was coming home, but instead Laurie had mentioned doing some sightseeing. Stanford had nearly offered to fly south, but several clients required his attention. Stanford almost told Laurie to go west, but then he didn't want Laurie to know that Eric was gone. As far as Stanford could tell, Laurie had no idea, which further strengthened his belief that Lynne and Jane were alone. Well, they had each other, Stanford considered. And the baby, which made Stanford shudder. What in the hell was wrong with Eric Snyder now?

Maybe it was akin to whatever had plunged Seth into the deepest depression in his life. Then Stanford smirked. What kind of life was worth living if only to be shuttled from one institution to another, having to undergo the most powerful psychological treatments, and this for the second time? Before, Stanford had felt detached from Seth's trauma. Maybe he had made the discrepancy based upon Seth's tenure as a vet, a realm Stanford couldn't broach. Yet now Stanford felt an inkling of Seth's pain, which he permitted was in part due to his own mother's passing. The other element was from.... Stanford shook his head, but gone were the days when he could easily dismiss unpleasantries from his bearing. His sessions with Dr. Walsh were far and few between, but that shrink had made inroads toward a notion Stanford still loathed assessing. And how ironic that it was during psychoanalysis that Stanford had even begun to allow thought toward something so esoteric. A man's soul had to be considered, Dr. Walsh had blandly said in early July. Otherwise, what purpose was there to living?

Stanford hadn't pondered that subject at the time, for Laurie was gone, the tour in Europe was still unsettled, Eric still dwelled at home.... The last time Stanford had spoken to Eric was right before the Fourth of July, about the time Seth was moved into the Kerr Mental Hospital. Stanford couldn't recall their conversation, probably about adding dates to the exhibit. But he did remember that Eric sounded distracted, edgy almost, or did Stanford now project that qualifier, for now Eric wasn't at home, Stanford would bet money on it. He hadn't asked Lynne, or Sam Ahern. But if Stanford wanted proof, all he had to do was call Eric's pastor, offhandedly inquiring as to Eric's whereabouts. A man of God wouldn't be able to lie, not even one so well-versed in discretion. Another master of subtly was that Pole, Stanford clucked aloud. How intriguing that Eric could be friendly with such a diverse range of characters.

If Stanford asked Sam, he would hem and haw, and while he wouldn't give up Eric's secret, he'd make Stanford feel ashamed to be harassing him. Renee would be worse, plus Stanford still had a hard time talking to her without wishing to roll his eyes at most of what she said. Lynne would make Stanford squirm, for in her few words Stanford would feel the massive weight shouldered in being married to such a genius, not to mention bearing his children. Then Stanford grew angry; Lynne was again pregnant, damn Eric! Where was that bastard?

Stanford stood from his chair, stepping right in front of the window. He refrained from placing his hands on the glass, although he wanted to. Yet, that wouldn't bring Eric home, nor would it alleviate his anxiety, or Laurie's. Damn both Seth and Eric; what was it with those two, causing Stanford so much.... He gripped his chest, which now ached with ferocity. He slumped back in his seat, taking deep breaths, feeling sick to his stomach; was he having a heart attack? He suddenly prayed that no, he wasn't, if only not to drag Laurie north for something so wretched. The pain and sickness immediately abated and he sighed in relief. Then he inhaled deeply; what had just happened?

Slowly Stanford wheeled his chair to face the door. Yes, he was alone, which made him twitch. Why had he thought someone else was there? Maybe he too was losing his grip on reality. That had been Laurie's phrase, that Seth had lost his grip, constantly referring to some hawk as a he, that he needed to go home, that some woman was waiting for him. For it, but Laurie never used that pronoun when referring to the bird of prey that had arrived not long after Seth was admitted to the mental hospital. At first, Laurie had thought it an amusing anecdote, but soon he spoke about the hawk in every phone call, which Stanford made to the Goldsmiths' home after Agatha had left for the day. The men talked nightly, mostly in that their lengthy separation was taking its toll. Never before had they been apart for so long and Stanford often woke aching for his.... He never thought of Laurie as his husband, that was absurd. Partner was occasionally used, if only inwardly, but lately lover was Stanford's term of choice, again employed only within Stanford's.... Then he shook, for how much he missed Laurie and for how empty his heart seemed.

But it wasn't merely Stanford's chest muscle in distress; far deeper went the pain, which was how he could relate to Seth's lapse into.... It was more than mental illness, perhaps akin to how badly Stanford had missed his mother once she no longer recognized him. He'd thought it miserable as she fell further and further away, asking who he was, then recalling her eldest child as though her memories weren't faulty. But the worst had been when she no longer called him by name, staring at him like she'd never seen him before, then asking who he was in a fearful tone as though he was a dangerous stranger. Was that how Seth felt toward Laurie, Stanford wondered. He didn't consider how terrible his own father must have felt, for if Stanford did that, invariably he would return to another abandoned by their spouse. And what about a little girl living without her daddy?

Stanford trembled, then reached for his glass of water, draining it. He set down the empty cup, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. At least he'd been a grown man when his mother lost her mind. There had been nothing he could do for his sisters, which occasionally he regretted, nor anything he could have done to make it easier on his dad. Sometimes people just slipped away, but Jane was so little, she didn't even know who Eric was. He was a great painter, he was a good man, he was.... Pounding his right hand on his desk, Stanford swore loudly. Never before had his life felt so upended, how could he have lost his grip on....

Slowly the door was opened, Emily Harold peering around the corner. "Mr. Taylor, are you all right?"

Stanford nodded, feeling himself turn crimson. "Of course, just um, dropped some papers." Hastily he glanced at the floor, noting only bits of dust. Then he gazed at the secretary, who now stood in the doorway. "Would you mind getting me more water please?"

"Certainly sir." Miss Harold retrieved the empty glass, filling it from the cooler there in the room. The sound of hollow gurgles made Stanford flinch, he could have easily gotten up, or could he? His legs felt wobbly, his chest resounding with echoes similar to those gurgles as the cooler was drained. He looked at it, the water line near the bottom. What he would give to leave work and find Laurie at home, waiting for him.

But Lynne had no such luxury, and was balancing motherhood and pregnancy on top of being alone. And while Laurie had his aunt and uncle for company, he couldn't speak freely to them. They didn't want to hear much about Seth, and certainly nothing to do with Laurie's.... With the man Laurie loved, Stanford huffed as Emily closed the door behind her. Stanford stared at that door, then spied the filled glass, waiting on its coaster. Had Emily spoken to him before she left? He hoped she didn't think him overly rude, she must have said something, but he'd missed it. He picked up the glass, which felt cool in his hand. Slowly he sipped the water, but while his belly felt better, his chest still seemed empty. He placed the cup back where it belonged, then set his hand over his heart. It must be beating, for he was breathing. But the ache bothered him. Perhaps it was age, he was over forty now. Yes, that must be it. He was in middle age and....

As he reached for the Snyder tour itinerary, Stanford was seized by a pain so strong, he wondered if middle age was all he would experience. Gripping the sides of his desk, he shut his eyes while riding out that wave, bracing himself for the next. This must be a heart attack, or perhaps a stroke he assumed, his eyelids still closed, his hands grasping smooth wood. But nothing further occurred and after several seconds, he opened his eyes, seeing a few stars, or maybe they were merely remnants of light. The room didn't spin; it looked just like always. He glanced around, finding nothing amiss. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught the depleted water cooler.

Was that his destiny, to be so empty, so worn, so.... Stanford was tired of going home and finding only Agatha at the apartment. She'd been hinting for him to travel south, or even west, but under no circumstances would he call on Lynne unless Eric was there. Could he leave work right now? He glanced at the completed itinerary; it had been his biggest hurdle. His clients wouldn't miss him for a long weekend perhaps. Not that he would visit Seth or Laurie's relatives. But Stanford needed time with.... "My better half," he mumbled to himself. Studying his calendar, he scribbled some notes. He would make plane reservations from home, then call Laurie. Unless all flights were booked, Stanford would spend that weekend in Miami.

Later that week as Stanford flew south, a letter was delivered in Oslo, Norway. The postman had been careful to watch that envelopes were collected each day, for it was the time of month that Mrs. Henrichsen made her usual getaway. She never asked for a hold on her mail, one of her neighbors gathered it for her. But the mailman took it upon himself to confirm that indeed what had been placed in that box yesterday was in the care of someone else. He never thought the worst; this was a respectable if not older section of the city, where folks remained all their lives. Mrs. Henrichsen had been living here since he took this route, and that had been over a decade ago. This was the first time she had received mail from anywhere outside of Norway, and as he carefully put it in the box, he wondered if more would follow. He smiled to himself, feeling a little self-important. When he saw her next, might he be so bold as to inquire about that particular piece of post?

That evening, a stack of mail sat in the hands of Sigrun Vang, who now stood at the door of her best friend. Sigrun had knocked once, but had a key for the house, which was three doors down from her own. The women had been neighbors for the last thirteen years, and for most of those, these were the shortest visits. Sigrun would hand over the mail, then excuse herself for a few days, during which time her friend would retreat into a world in which Sigrun never shared. Then her company would be sought out, and for the next three weeks, they would enjoy the occasional supper, chats over weekend coffee breaks, and the daily trek to the bus stop, where they sat side by side on their ways to work. Little was said on those mornings, for Sigrun wasn't an early bird, but on their commutes home they spoke about their jobs, neighborhood gossip, and whatever else seemed relevant. Sometimes it was politics, often it wasn't more than how slowly the bus took to reach their street. They walked together as far as Sigrun's front gate, then said see you tomorrow, unless it was Friday. And even on Fridays, they might see each other the following day at the market or library or cafe. Oslo was a big city, but this section seemed as small as the village where Sigrun had grown up. Yet, that evening, she felt like a little girl, staring at the still-lit summer night sky, feeling no bigger than a speck of dust. She gripped the pack of mail and knocked once more. A letter from America waited at the bottom, and felt to burn Sigrun's palm.

She placed the letters in her other hand, tapping her foot. Just as she was about to reach for her key, the lock was turned, and the door opened. "Oh Sigrun, I'm sorry. Come in, come in."

Stepping over the threshold, Sigrun considered how best to share that special letter. It had only arrived that day, sitting like a beacon in the post, what with that fancy postmark, not to mention several stamps featuring Eleanor Roosevelt and what looked like one honoring the Red Cross. Sigrun didn't know any English, and she had always assumed her friend didn't either. They were simple women, nothing noteworthy of their backgrounds other than.... But this had nothing to do with her friend's monthly sojourns. Sigrun cleared her throat; she didn't wish to tarry longer than usual, her husband Harald would become suspicious. She hadn't told him about the letter; it wasn't anyone's business but to whom it was addressed, Mrs. Gunnar Henrichsen.

Sigrun had studied that greeting, funny to see her friend's married name presented, in somewhat illegible penmanship, she would admit. No name accompanied the return address, from one of the United States Sigrun didn't recognize. There were so many of them, she had sighed to herself in the brief moments she had examined the envelope before Harald had come home. He didn't mind the women's friendship, but he sometimes expressed his contempt for.... Sigrun shook her head, then looked up. Curious eyes were upon her, but a smile accompanied. "So, looks like the postman was busy while I was gone."

Sigrun nodded. "Oh well, just the usual." Then she choked, inhaling through her nose sharply. The air was cold going down her windpipe and she felt ridiculous. "Here," she stammered once she could speak, handing over the stack of mail.

"Are you okay, do you want some water?"

"No, no, just that supper's on the stove and...." Harald hated to wait to eat, but first this errand had to be attended. Sigrun crossed her arms over her chest, watching the woman thumb through the letters. What would she do when she reached the last, Sigrun wondered, one addressed so formally, yet steeped in intrigue?

If Harald knew of the letter, that element would drive him crazy. He hated anything unexpected. He tolerated the women's friendship because on the surface it wasn't more than hens cackling. He didn't mind that Sigrun collected Mrs. Henrichsen's mail, for that was what neighbors did for another, although the reason for Mrs. Henrichsen's absences was never topic for discussion. Actually, Harald spoke as little as possible about Gunnar's wife, but maybe that was due more to Gunnar than his widowed spouse.

As Sigrun considered all that, she missed how her friend had stopped examining the letters. Sigrun was lost in all of the years she had lived on this street, like no other corner of the world existed. She had met Harald on a rare visit to Oslo, during a school trip when she was sixteen. He was twenty and it had been love at first sight for both. He had implored her parents to let him court her, but once they realized his intentions, they quickly permitted Sigrun to marry this seemingly settled man from the big city. She had outgrown their small hamlet and moving to Oslo as someone's wife appeared like the best solution; she would stay out of trouble, or at least not cause her parents more grief. She hadn't stirred any calamities for Harald either. They had two grown daughters, both married but no grandchildren yet. Sigrun had been a young mother, but then so had her friend, who now trembled in front of her. Sigrun felt foolish, approaching the shaken woman. "Oh sweetie, are you all right?"

Only one letter was gripped; the rest had fallen to the floor. Yet, the envelope remained sealed, as though once it was opened, misfortune would result. Sigrun led her friend to the table, pulling out a chair, then seating her. She stared at the discarded mail, then shook her head. All that mattered was the piece still gripped tightly within the owner's hands. Sigrun stroked those hands, which were chilled, although the room wasn't. It felt stuffy, but the house had been closed up all week. "Do you want some water?" she asked. She was parched and would get herself a cup as well.

The woman shook her head. "Do you have to go right away?" she asked, her voice quaking.

"No, I mean, you know Harald." Sigrun huffed for effect. Then she sighed, feeling the hint of a coming storm. It was in how stale was the air and how quiet was the room. Mail piled on the floor denoted a calm interrupted, as well as how cool were her friend's fingertips. "I can call him, tell him I'll be a few, if you want."

The woman looked up, tears all along her face. "No, don't. He'll get angry and...."

Sigrun's heart raced; very few things would rouse this woman's sorrow. "How was your trip, did something happen?"

Yet, Sigrun knew it wasn't the trip to cause such upset. But what or who in America could bring this usually unflappable woman to such straits? "Listen, I'm going to call him. He can get his own supper, it's just waiting on the stove. And if he doesn't like it, that's too bad."

"No Sigrun, I'm okay, it's...."

"It's not all right Klaudia. Now, just a moment. Then you can tell me about...." Sigrun didn't continue, walking to where the telephone sat on the far counter. She dialed her own number, which was odd, she rarely called home now that her daughters were married women. Harald answered, and was shocked at her declaration, that she was at Klaudia's and would be so for the foreseeable future. She could see her husband, furious to have to spoon up his own supper. And he would be cross for a few days, mumbling choice phrases about how Gunnar Henrichsen never should have married that Polish.... But after a few outbursts Sigrun would cut him off, not that she would share whatever was causing Klaudia so much grief; it would be nothing Harald would care to hear.

Yet Sigrun was very curious as to what Klaudia needed to declare, for a confession sat all over Sigrun's best friend's face. Sigrun filled two glasses with water, then brought those cups to the table. She placed them in the center, away from the letter, still clasped in Klaudia's hands. "Do you want me to open it?" she asked softly.

"In a minute. First I need to tell you about Marek."

Sigrun nodded. "Did something happen last week, is he all right?"

Klaudia shook her head, nervously playing with shoulder length blonde hair. "No Sigrun, this isn't about my son."

Sigrun stared at the woman beside her. Klaudia was nine years younger than Sigrun, but looked ages older, her blue eyes lifeless, deep lines along her brow, others creasing her mouth. Setting the letter aside, Klaudia reached across the table for a pack of cigarettes. She lit one, then offered it to Sigrun, who took a drag as Klaudia lit another. They smoked for a minute, then Klaudia placed hers in the empty ashtray. She grasped the envelope, fingering the handwriting. "I knew it was him as soon as I saw that painting. Nobody has eyes as brown as his."

"As who?" Sigrun had insisted they go to the museum, but once inside, Klaudia had enjoyed herself, or she had until they reached the canvas of a pastor holding a baby. Sigrun hadn't said anything while Klaudia stood mesmerized, nor had they spoken about it afterwards.

Sigrun glanced at the letter, then she gazed at Klaudia. "Who is he?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Someone I thought was dead, someone I...." Klaudia took a deep breath, then reached for the cigarette. She smoked it down to the filter, stubbed it out, then traced her name written on the envelope. "He's alive Sigrun, I never dreamed he was still alive."

Her plaintive tone made Sigrun shake, but it was her Polish inflection that caused Sigrun to weep. Klaudia spoke flawless Norwegian, delivered in a textbook intonation. Rarely did her native accent flavor her speech, yet that night Sigrun wished she understood Polish, for the tale that unfolded would have been better served in Klaudia's own tongue, a story of lost opportunities and a horrific catastrophe rivaled only by what had happened to Klaudia's son. Yet, he hadn't been named for a lost sibling, as Klaudia had always claimed. It had been bestowed to honor the only man Klaudia ever loved.
Chapter 126

Waking in the hotel, Laurie reached over for where Stanford slept, smiling at his lover's loud snores. Laurie hadn't truly believed that Stan would make the journey, but now on Sunday, it was as if Stan had always been in Miami, like Laurie hadn't been living with Uncle Mickey and Aunt Sheila for the last several.... Time had altered from the moment Laurie spotted Stanford stepping into the terminal, looking bedraggled but so wonderful to Laurie's weary eyes and aching heart. They had approached each other formally, making small talk about Stan's flights and the humid weather, even as it was already past eight in the evening. Yet, after they had collected Stan's bag and made their way to Sheila's car, pretenses were dropped. Laurie caressed Stanford's face, squeezing his hand, then speaking words that had needed an outlet. Laurie loved this man and told him so repeatedly as he drove them to this hotel, where they had spent nearly the entire weekend.

Stan wasn't leaving until tomorrow, but Laurie didn't ponder that, merely listening to the familiar pattern of Stan's drones, although they sounded altered. Laurie didn't wonder if it was due to being away from home, the weather, or.... Laurie couldn't conjure more than Seth's name. The pain attached to even that was so great, yet in observing his lover, the ache subsided; Stanford might be nearly a dead weight beside Laurie, but those rumbles proved life was being inhaled and exhaled, and what a life it was. No, this wasn't their house, nor could they display their affections beyond these walls. But within this room, adoration and attraction and of course love had been shared, and after a long dreary summer, both men had needed to give and reciprocate those sentiments. Life required such pleasures and levels of attachment, and Laurie had nearly forgotten how vital were those elements. He wasn't sure for how much longer he would stay in Florida, but regardless, the rest of his tenure would be shored up by this weekend, which still had one more day to be enjoyed.

Laurie didn't know what they would do; they wouldn't visit the Goldsmiths, which made him smile. While Sheila had graciously told Laurie to keep her car as long as necessary, Mickey had made it plain he didn't need to meet Stanford. Laurie wasn't bothered by his uncle's disdain. Once Laurie left Florida, he didn't imagine he would ever return, nor did he expect to see the Goldsmiths up north. Laurie now wondered how he would look back on these days, as if he'd stepped through a looking glass or.... Maybe he would shut out this summer, only recalling the moments spent in a hotel with the most precious person in Laurie's world. He reached over, running his fingers through Stan's thinning hair. Stanford snorted, but didn't stir from sleep. Laurie studied the side of Stan's face, how young he looked in sleep. If not for his mostly bald head, Laurie could picture who he had met nearly twenty years before; a rather intense young art dealer who had the most piercing gaze, staring at Laurie without shame. Stanford's smile had been merely a hint, but Laurie had understood Stanford perfectly, and by the end of that evening, Laurie had no doubt with whom he would next share supper. It wouldn't be with the girl he had taken to that party, her name lost to him now. It had been with the person still slumbering at Laurie's side, someone at times prickly and often shielded from nearly the rest of the world. But this man was Laurie's universe, which had so little to do with the realm Laurie had inhabited lately. Stan was healthy in mind and body, and Laurie smiled, then snickered, as he again traced Stan's hairline, but not as lightly as before.

Stanford snorted again, then a loud breath was taken, followed by more snorts which woke him. He rolled to his back, rubbing his eyes. Then he faced Laurie, but didn't speak. He merely grinned in such a way that again Laurie wondered if they had gone back in time. Perhaps they were in their early twenties, exploring the possibilities of what it meant to fall in love. Neither had imagined they would succumb to such a notion, or at least not to the degree that love had infiltrated. Laurie had assumed he would wed a Jewish girl, pleasing his mother and the rest, leaving a large part of his heart yearning for something more fulfilling. And as for Stanford....

While he'd never revealed any whimsical aspirations, Laurie knew what that man had considered as his lot in life, but he wouldn't have been like his grandfather, marrying for propriety's sake or to further the family name. Stanford would have slipped in and out of meaningless relationships, not permitting anyone to get under his skin. Watching Stan slowly stir from deep slumber, Laurie wondered how had managed such a feat. Maybe it was Laurie's zest for life, the few years that separated them, his religion..... Had falling in love with a Jew given Stanford the space to set aside expectations? It wasn't only that Stanford loved a man, but one not at all Christian, not that Stan believed in God. Yet maybe Laurie's faith allowed Stan greater leeway in letting down his guard. If Stanford was going to spend the rest of his life with one person, a man no less, why not choose someone who would truly break boundaries? Laurie smiled; Michael and Constance would have disapproved if Stanford had fallen for a Jewish woman, but Laurie was very different indeed.

Then Laurie shivered; was he only considering all of this because of where he was, and he didn't mean this hotel. How much had life around these relatives changed him, not that they had done anything for.... Laurie shut his eyes tightly as a sharp pain traveled from his gut to his heart. He had purposely not spoken about Seth, other than to answer Stanford's initial query, that shock therapy was still being administered, not that Laurie had seen his cousin since those treatments had begun. Laurie hadn't been to the hospital all week, although he would swear that the hawk had followed him. Or maybe he just couldn't get the creature from his mind. That bird was special, and for a second, Laurie considered driving to the institution to show it to Stanford. But if Laurie went to the Kerr Hospital, how great would be the temptation to step inside, give his name, then amble down the corridor until he reached....

That thought was interrupted by gentle caresses, which Laurie coveted. Within moments he was making love with the only person who had satisfied him, but satisfaction was a weak manner in which to describe all the joy that Stan had brought to Laurie's life. How had they known, all those years ago, to indeed strive for such delight, to choose to live together even. Laurie hadn't pushed for that; he would have been happy going between apartments, but Stanford had insisted, hiring Agatha to run the household while they went about the usual routines of work. They had found a way to make their own happiness, and their families had quietly embraced them as a couple, as had their best friends.

"Have you heard from Eric and Lynne lately?" Laurie smiled, for he'd received a snapshot of Jane just that week, and the news that Lynne could feel the baby. She hadn't written much else, the note had been merely a token of her friendship, which had surprised Sheila, although she thought Jane was adorable. Laurie hadn't shied away from sharing that photograph, for the Snyders were his and Stan's closest friends. He chuckled inwardly at that notion, then wondered what it signified. He and Stan had been together for seventeen years, and had only permitted relatives to share in their domestic bliss. Yet Laurie felt very strongly about Lynne and Eric, and Jane of course. He loved them, which made him laugh, then wince. Had they made such inroads due to the loss of.... Maybe, Laurie shrugged. Stanford hadn't needed more than his father and Agatha, but Laurie required a wider circle. Stanford did too, Laurie smirked, then he sighed, but not in sorrow. Despite their extended families, they had been much like Eric and Lynne used to be, just two people against the world. But now.... Laurie smiled, not thinking of his blood family, but of that forged by other ties. Perhaps the Snyders would take the place of.... Then Laurie kissed Stanford, who responded warmly. They nestled closely, allowing Laurie to set aside all other relations. "I love you so much," he said. "You don't know how glad I am you came down here."

Stanford sighed. "Not that I've seen much of Miami. Maybe we're still in Manhattan."

"Maybe." Laurie traced Stanford's chest. "Do you wanna do some sightseeing?"

"It might be nice to take a drive today. I've never been here before, you know."

Laurie had closed his eyes, lost in the blissful peace that often accompanied the twosome when at home in this state. He would never again take those mornings, afternoons, and evenings for granted. But something in Stan's tone stirred Laurie, and he opened his eyes, finding Stan looking pensive. "No, I didn't know you'd never been here before." Laurie sat up, staring at Stanford. He no longer looked young, wrinkles edging his eyes and lines in his brow. "Stan, what is it?"

If he said that he wanted to visit Seth, Laurie wouldn't know how to react, for Stanford had never previously sought such company, or not when Seth was so ill. But something was troubling this man and Laurie set his palm along Stanford's face. "Is everything okay at home?"

Stanford sat up, sighing as he did so. He glanced at Laurie, then looked around the room, fixing his gaze on the door. "Everything's fine. It's just that my back's a little sore and...." He sighed again, then fiddled with the sheet. "It would be nice to see some of the area. Dad will ask what it was like down here and...."

Laurie nodded, for Michael would inquire, not that Stanford's sisters would. They might not even know their brother had flown south. Agatha did, but she wouldn't question Stanford, other than noting she was glad he went. Had Stan told Eric he was traveling? Laurie would write about this to Lynne, something novel to put in a letter. He loathed having to tell her and Eric about Seth's latest setback. Or maybe Stanford had mentioned it. "Did you tell the Snyders you were coming down here?"

"What?" Stanford seemed to shirk back, then he shook his head. "Of course I didn't tell them."

"Well, I just wondered." Now Laurie sighed. "I'll mention it to Lynne when I write her next." Laurie shivered. "One of us needs to tell them about...." He trembled, hating even to think about it. Laurie swallowed hard, then continued. "If nothing else, Seth needs their prayers more now than ever."

Not that prayer had done much for Seth up to now, Laurie thought. Maybe the Snyders, and the Aherns too, needed to pray for something different. He always assumed they asked for healing, for which Laurie too had prayed. But maybe that was requesting too much. Perhaps an end to the suffering was a better way to phrase it, and not only Seth's agony. That miserable ache fluttered within Laurie's chest and again he closed his eyes, willing it as far down as was possible. Opening his eyes, he sighed, then gasped, finding tears rolling down Stanford's face. Laurie grabbed him by the shoulders. "Stan, what the hell's wrong?"

"Eric's gone again. I don't know where, but I haven't spoken to him since right before Seth...." Stanford cleared his throat, then carefully removed Laurie's hands from his shoulders. But he didn't release those hands, grasping them tenderly. "Not since Seth went into Kerr. That's been over six weeks, six weeks since...." Placing Laurie's hands on the bed, Stanford used the sheet to wipe his face. "I've written to Lynne, I guess I wanted her to know that I'm aware he's not there. She hasn't replied yet, and to be honest, I don't know if I want her to." Stanford inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. "I really thought after Jane, well, I assumed everything was fine. But now I have no idea." Stanford's shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. "I wasn't going to tell you, you have enough to deal with. I just...." Now Stanford trembled. "I just don't understand what's happening."

Laurie shivered, his first thoughts to Lynne and Jane, then he wondered about Sam and Renee. Then he gazed at the man sitting in a near heap on the bed. Laurie couldn't fathom a single reason why again Eric had disappeared, but it wasn't only his immediate family to suffer. Well, they ached most, but Stanford looked sick to his stomach. Laurie got out of bed and went to the bathroom, bringing back a glass of water. He gave it to Stanford and he drank it. Stanford put the cup on the bedside table as Laurie sat next to him. "I had no idea he was gone. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Stanford again shook his head. "What was I going to say? And it's not like I have proof...." His voice trembled. "But where the hell is he? She needs him and so does his daughter, and damnit Laurie, I don't need this on top of everything else. Neither do you." Stanford stroked Laurie's cheek. "What in God's name is it with that man? His wife's pregnant and he was working on Sam's portrait and, and...."

"I have no idea honey." Rare were the times Laurie employed such an endearing term, but Stanford seemed near to collapse. Laurie's heart felt equally heavy, and something Stan had said stuck in the back of his head. He didn't ruminate on that, however, for now Stan was weeping, covering his face with his hands. Laurie got into bed beside him, cradling a man who rarely broke down. He had after his mother had ceased to remember him, that had been several years ago. Laurie had never forgotten that night, as though Constance had passed away long before her demise. Stanford hadn't wept for her since, other than a few random tears at the funeral. Maybe this breakdown was due to more than Eric's recent disappearance. Stanford could be detached, but his heart wasn't a stone.

As Stanford's tears fell, Laurie crooned how much he loved him, that it would be all right. Then he sighed, uncertain about many things. And that niggle in the back of his brain ached too, but not in the manner of how deep was the pain within Laurie's heart. This was the consequence Stanford had always feared, how in caring for someone a risk was taken. Stanford had been willing to take a chance on Laurie, but youth and lust had diminished the sense of danger. Now Stan was older and far less trusting. Yet the Snyders had found their way beyond his wall to a place that Laurie now felt was battered. Eric, Lynne, and Jane had teamed up against this usually staid man, and with Seth at their side, a good pounding was taking place. It wasn't at all fair, but if Lynne was shouldering parenthood and pregnancy on her own, not to mention all that Seth was enduring.... But like Stanford, Laurie was bothered by this news. What in the world could have torn Eric from his family?

Once Stanford had calmed, Laurie retrieved another glass of water. Stan drank it, then blew his nose several times. Laurie returned to his side of the bed while Stanford took several deep breaths. Then Stanford got up. "I'm going to shower. Then maybe we can get some...." He glanced at the clock. "Good God, it's nearly noon."

"Lunch would be wonderful. Then we'll drive around, see where we land. Go on, I'll get in after you."

Stanford nodded, then headed for the bathroom. Laurie felt chilled, then he shook his head. He gathered clothes, placing them at the foot of the bed. Then he trembled; what if Eric had found fatherhood too great a burden? Maybe he had checked himself into an institution. It was the only notion Laurie could imagine, that somehow Eric's tortured upbringing had been stirred by the coming baby. Laurie felt ill, then walked into the bathroom. But he didn't lift the toilet seat, for as soon as the humidity hit him, a more soothing sensation emerged.

For the first time in weeks, Laurie wasn't alone. And he was near the only person who calmed his racing heart. "Stan, you okay?"

"Uh-huh."

Now Laurie smiled, for that response sounded normal. Then Laurie chuckled. "So, is there room for me in there?"

"Well yes, I believe there is."

"Good." Inhaling warm, damp air, Laurie exhaled unpleasant, mysterious queries. Placing Eric alongside Seth, Laurie pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub, returning the curtain as a shield of sorts. For the next several minutes, Laurie and Stanford only knew pleasure. They could consider less agreeable notions later.
Chapter 127

After taking Stanford to the airport, Laurie drove to the Goldsmiths' where he found Sheila chatting with her Aunt Deb. Laurie carried a suitcase full of dirty laundry, to which he would attend once Deb had left. He closed his door, not wishing to hear the slight snickers, not that the women would actually speak about him while he was there, but he knew eventually his weekend away would be grist for their conversations. Laurie sat on the bed, thinking how good Stanford's visit had been for both of them. Then he smiled, wondering if Stan would be thinking about the hawk on his flights home.

That bird had made a surprise appearance as the men drove past the hospital, which Laurie hadn't been able to avoid unless he'd wanted to add half an hour to their journey. The hawk had been standing near a bus stop just yards from the front entrance and Laurie pulled over, in part from the shock of seeing it, and that he wanted to show it to Stanford, who had protested. Yet, they had left the hotel with plenty of time to spare and Laurie knew he couldn't hide from Seth forever. He didn't think about Eric, that was too painful. But sometime that week Laurie would have to visit Seth or speak with Dr. Sellers. At least when he did, the lasting effects of the weekend would fortify him. And the presence of that hawk probably would too.

Laurie had stopped just long enough for Stan to see the bird, then they had resumed their trip. And now while Laurie had another to consider, at least he knew Stanford was all right. Or that Stan missed him, but neither had any idea where Eric might have gone. Laurie had mentioned his suspicions, that perhaps Eric's past had sent him seeking help. It was the only thing Stanford could assume, and they decided not to say anything to Lynne. If necessary she would bring it up, or perhaps Sam would. And Stanford would say nothing to Agatha. The last thing he wanted was to speak about it with her.

Laurie unpacked his case, placing his clothes in the empty laundry basket. Then he sighed. Stanford wouldn't reach New York until late that evening, and it wasn't even noon. Laurie didn't want to hide in the guest room all afternoon, but he'd had possession of Sheila's car for days. He cracked open the door, hearing the low hum of feminine voices. He was hungry and restless. The car key sat in his pocket, stirring something inside his chest. And that niggle in his head remained, something Stan had said not leaving Laurie's consciousness. He sighed, then opened the door the rest of the way. It creaked, which ended the chatter. He smiled, then walked to the living room. The ladies sat on opposite ends of the sofa, but met his gaze. "Good morning," he said. "Or is it still the a.m.?"

Sheila smiled. "For another few minutes. Did you have a nice weekend away?"

"I did. But now hunger beckons. Would you mind if I borrowed the car for another outing?"

Sheila motioned to the kitchen. "I was just gonna fix Deb and myself something. You're welcome to join us."

Laurie smiled, but shook his head. "Actually, I need to see Seth." He said that name deliberately. "Haven't been over there in a week."

Deb had been looking at Laurie, but now she stared at the floor. Sheila maintained eye contact. "It has been a few days." She furrowed her brow, then sighed. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere today."

Her voice was kind and Laurie wished they were alone, for he would sit beside her and grasp her hand. Instead he had a brief chuckle. "Well, you've been so generous with letting me use your car. I don't want to wear out my welcome."

"You're welcome here as long as...." Sheila cleared her throat, then stood. She went to where Laurie stood, then clasped his hands in hers. "As long as it takes." Then she smiled. "Shall I count on you for supper?"

"Yes please." He gripped her hands, then brought up one, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "Lunch won't be more than a cheeseburger," he laughed, releasing her hands. "Much better food here, I'll say."

She blushed slightly, then clucked aloud. "Well certainly no hamburgers. Give him my...." She bit her lip, staring at the floor. Then she met Laurie's gaze. "My love, you'll do that, won't you?"

"Of course." He kissed her cheek, then wiped the few tears falling down her face. "I won't be too long."

She sighed, then nodded as he made his goodbye to Deb. Laurie left the house with a small spring in his step, keeping one eye on the sky as he drove away.

He bought lunch at a stand near the hospital, then ate it in the car, parked in the back of the hospital lot. No clouds hovered, no hawks either. Laurie pondered where Eric might be, but that seemed a futile endeavor. Other than at a facility much like where he was, Laurie had no notion what might wrench Eric from Lynne and Jane. Nor did he delve too deeply into that scenario. Enough heartache stood yards away.

As he headed toward the building, Laurie thought about his Uncle Monroe, who had died a year before Laurie's father had. Rose and Wilma had practically grieved together, their daughters and sons at their sides. Then Laurie had met Stanford and.... But before then, Laurie was firmly attached to Brooklyn, which meant a host of relatives, most of them female. His and Seth's fathers were some of the few men Laurie had possessed as role models, maybe that was why he found Stanford so appealing. While Laurie had been raised mostly around women, the opposite was true for Stan.

Monroe Gordon had been a hands-off sort of father, although he loved Seth, of that Laurie didn't doubt. But Seth had been the youngest child, somewhat indulged, and interested in art. While Laurie had bonded with his dad through their love of sports, Seth and his father hadn't shared any interests. Monroe had let his wife do most of the parenting, which was typical. Then he died from a heart attack, but as Rose and Wilma always said, thank God Monroe never witnessed what was to come.

Laurie approached the hospital's entrance, then stopped in his tracks; an ambulance waited in front, the back doors open. Laurie stared at it, wondering if it was there to drop off a patient or.... He looked around, not seeing the hawk. Laurie quickly entered the building, giving his name to the receptionist. He was asked to take a seat, which had never before happened. Laurie chose the nearest chair, then peered behind him. The ambulance doors were still open. He stared straight ahead, then looked at the floor.

Then someone cleared their throat near him. "Mr. Abrams?"

Laurie gazed up, finding Dr. Sellers. Laurie stood, shaking the man's hand. "How's Seth?"

The words popped out, yet Laurie didn't care. He'd been avoiding this place, but now that Stan had come and gone, Laurie no longer wished to linger here. He wanted resolution, and if that meant Seth left this place in a body bag shoved in the back of an ambulance, so be it. Seth's mother and aunt had lost their husbands, but life didn't stop. Life was what Laurie had shared all weekend with Stanford. Life was.... "Doctor, just tell me." Laurie didn't care who was near, he only wanted the truth. "I realize I've been away, I just needed some space, but...." He sighed, fighting the urge to look back to the ambulance. He met the doctor's steely gaze. "Is there any hope for him?"

"Let's go to my office." Dr. Sellers motioned toward the corridor.

Laurie nodded, then followed the physician down the hallway.

Alone Laurie approached Seth's door. His steps had been taken slowly, for Dr. Sellers had presented Laurie with much to ponder. Seth had received two rounds of treatment, followed by very powerful medications. But it seemed that in the last forty-eight hours Seth had finally found some peace, or at least solid rest. Laurie understood what the doctor was telling him; Seth was no longer in a straightjacket screaming uncontrollably or withdrawn into a world no one could penetrate.

But was that any better than the unconscious figure who lay on the mattress, as Laurie opened Seth's door, seeing no one resembling his cousin. A zombie was more apt, Laurie shivered, as he walked to where Seth slept. He wasn't restrained, but he snored soundly, the way Stanford had just that morning. Laurie pulled up a chair, then sat with a plop. He fought tears, but they flowed, not only for how poorly his cousin appeared. Dr. Sellers had spoken to Seth over the weekend, once relative calm had been achieved. What Seth had shared bubbled in Laurie's guts, making him wonder if perhaps Seth shouldn't be left to his own devices.

Yet now Seth wasn't in any shape to do himself harm. He wasn't more than a vegetable, which had been Wilma and Rose's greatest fear, and what would Monroe make of his only son reduced to such a pitiful state? Laurie reached for Seth's hand, squeezing it gently. Then he shivered. This hand had gripped a rifle, and by that action, how many had died? During the war Seth had been a sniper, what Dr. Sellers had learned, what Laurie found almost impossible to believe. Yet, it had to be true, for what other horror could have brought them to this most dismal place?

That morning Dr. Sellers had telephoned Wilma, informing her that Seth would need to remain hospitalized for the foreseeable future. And that psychotropic drugs would continue to be administered, alongside more shock therapy, if Seth again grew agitated. There was little else the staff could do, although if Seth responded positively to these treatments, they would gently reintroduce psychiatric counseling. But the gravity of Seth's illness was now too pronounced, or at least it had degenerated into where Laurie now sat, beside a semi-comatose individual. Seth probably had no idea Laurie was near him, but then, Seth had gone to a place not even Laurie could follow.

A sniper, Laurie mused, still holding Seth's hand. He'd been a sniper, picking off Koreans at will. Dr. Sellers repeated verbatim what Seth had muttered, and at one point Laurie had nearly asked the doctor to stop speaking. This couldn't be true; Seth had not one malicious bone in his body. Yes, he'd enlisted, but not because he'd wanted to kill anyone. It had been because, because.... But Laurie hadn't been able to interrupt the doctor, whose voice lowered as the reasons continued. How many Jews had died, and someone had to pay. Someone, Laurie could hear Seth say, and why not Koreans? Did it really matter who, no, actually it didn't. Hitler happened to hate Jews, so why couldn't Seth slay as many slanty-eyed Orientals as was possible? Dr. Sellers seemed to flinch while reading from his notes, but he didn't cease until there was nothing left to convey. Laurie had nodded absently, then asked if his aunt had been given all of this information. The doctor had shaken his head, noting that he had only told her about Seth's condition. If Laurie wished to share the more delicate details, the doctor would leave that to Laurie's discretion.

But what was so delicate about murder, Laurie now wondered, still grasping Seth's hand. This hand had crafted the most beautiful figures, then wantonly massacred man after man, or at least Laurie hoped it had only been soldiers who Seth had killed. Laurie closed his eyes, wishing to escape all that Seth had tried to outrun, but the images were too clear, in vivid shades, but not the soothing blue of Eric's barn. Laurie released Seth's hand, then walked to the window. He gazed outside, but all he could see was blood.

The concrete was covered in it, so were the trees, while the sky dripped with an endless abundance of.... Laurie felt sick, then stared back at Seth. His head was still shorn, he looked alien. The man who had been Laurie's cousin was gone, replaced by this, this.... Assassin, he thought, which again made Laurie's stomach churn. Seth was a murderer, no differently than Eric's father.

That man had died behind bars and Seth would too, not that he'd been convicted of any crime, or not by a court of law. Something within him had pronounced that sentence, not that he deserved it. Laurie couldn't help but feel a small vindication had been achieved, then he shook his head. Was it fair for Seth to suffer like this, Korea wasn't his fault, nor was The Holocaust or any previous disaster. Why had he felt so compelled, why, why.... He stepped to where Seth slept, then placed his hands on Seth's forehead. "I love you," Laurie whispered. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry Seth, I am so, so sorry."

Walking toward Sheila's car, Laurie gazed aimlessly into the sky. He would call his mother when he got home, just to ascertain how this news had been accepted by the family. He would never tell his mom or Aunt Wilma the truth. Seth would spend the rest of his life as an inmate, as though his actions had been against the law. There was no other manner in which Laurie could try to explain it. Men went to war with powers not permitted in civilized society. Their unearned punishments were to live with those crimes the best way they could find.

After he spoke to Rose, Laurie would book a flight home. There was nothing more he could do here, that was obvious. Laurie's steps slowed with that thought and he kicked an errant stone. Then he kicked another, followed by a few more until with as much strength as he could muster he hurled a large rock across the empty parking lot, swearing profusely. He shut his eyes, wanting to scream, wishing that for one moment he could harness all that misery, freeing his cousin. Laurie shook, never having felt such anger, but it wasn't mere fury. If someone stood close, he would turn to them with a closed fist and.... He opened his eyes, breathing hard. Then he trembled, feeling great shame. Had that been how Seth started to unravel? How many nights had they sat listening to the evening news as the horrors of extermination camps unfolded. Their mothers would find them huddled by the radio, shooing them away, but their fathers hadn't been so discerning. Yet Laurie hadn't allowed that to sully him. Yes, it was terrible, but Jews hadn't been the only ones to die. Yet Seth had always been more easily disturbed than most children. While his sculptures had been full of inspiration, something else bubbled under his skin. And in Korea, that other notion had been given free rein.

Laurie reached the car, then looked back at the hospital. A deep sense of failure swirled around him, but if he didn't go now.... He'd told his cousin that he wouldn't leave him, but no longer could Laurie fulfill that pledge. He had to go to maintain his own sanity. He loved Seth, but, but.... Laurie wiped away tears. The innocent baby from his youth was dead. Laurie never did have a little brother. He had sisters, his mom, Stanford....

The caw was piercing and Laurie whipped around, seeing the hawk not ten feet from him. The bird squawked again, then hopped to face the hospital. Then the hawk turned back to Laurie, taking deliberate leaps in his direction.

"What?" Laurie said. "He's gone, there's nothing more I can do for him."

Again the bird screeched, but to Laurie it sounded like a loud shout. "Get away from here," he yelled. "Just go back wherever you came from."

Laurie shook his head, then unlocked the car. As he got in the driver's seat, the hawk flew onto the hood of the vehicle, gazing at the windshield. Laurie looked up, then gripped the steering wheel; if he didn't know better, that bird was staring him down.

"Whatdya want me to do? He's a vegetable, that's not even him anymore!" Laurie slammed his hands on the wheel. "There's nothing any of us can do for him. Don't you think I love him? Don't you know if I thought I could help him I would? I've been trying for years, for years!" Again Laurie pounded the steering wheel. "My God, if I could do anything, but there's nothing, there's nothing left of him anymore."

The hawk walked toward the windshield, standing as close as his beak allowed. Laurie shivered, for he had never been so close to any wild animal, especially not a bird of prey. Its eyes were black, but not cold, its beak shining in the sun. Laurie was caught in its gaze, in his gaze. This was no ordinary bird, Laurie shivered, as sweat poured from him. "Who the hell are you?"

The bird said nothing, still staring at Laurie. "I can't," he whispered. "I just wanna go home."

The hawk nodded, Laurie would swear that's how it appeared. "I've been here too long, I can't do this anymore." Yet, Laurie's heart beat rapidly, his pulse raced. He glanced out his open car door to where the building loomed in the distance. "I just wanna go...."

Another shrill caw erupted and Laurie nodded. "Home, yeah, home. Jesus Christ, this's ridiculous!" He laughed nervously, looking at the hawk. "You wanna go home too, sure, of course you do. But what the hell are we supposed to do, huh?" Laurie motioned to the hospital. "Do you know how much shit they've shoved into him, drugs and electric shocks and...." Laurie trembled. "He looks like a concentration camp victim, you realize that? Or a prison inmate, but maybe they're one and the same. He killed people over there, he murdered them. He was a fucking sniper in Korea!" Laurie brought up his hands to again slam the steering wheel, but he stopped. "He was my little brother and they turned him into a murderer. And now he's a vegetable. There's nothing left of him!"

With Laurie's last word the hawk launched into the air. Laurie looked out the windshield, then scrambled from the driver's seat, gazing all around. He spotted the bird swooping to the ground, then soaring straight into the sky. For a minute Laurie watched, craning his neck when necessary, then squatting to the concrete as it flew right over his head. Then he stood as the hawk landed ten feet away. The bird pecked at its right wing, then affixed its gaze directly on Laurie.

"What am I supposed to do?" he said, throwing his hands in the air. "What, huh?"

The bird hopped toward the building. Then it looked back as if beckoning Laurie to follow.

"I can't. I just...."

But the bird didn't screech, it just kept hopping. Laurie ached to follow, but he'd promised to have supper with his aunt and uncle, he needed to call his mother, he wanted to go.... Again the bird leaped in the direction of the institution. Laurie heaved a hollow sigh, then took a breath. He slammed the car door closed, shoved his hands in his pockets, then truculently followed the hawk. As both reached the sidewalk, the bird took flight, going over the building to where Seth's room was located. Laurie shook his head, reentering the building, giving his name and that of his cousin. He made his obligatory visit to the restroom before stopping in front of Seth's door. As Laurie opened it, he gazed toward the window, where in the distance he could see the hawk waiting for him and for the man lying in bed.
Chapter 128

On the last day of August Lynne woke with a heavy heart, having dreamed of various unpleasant scenarios involving her husband, Seth, Sam, and Laurie. In those dreams, Eric was a hawk attempting to minister to aching soldiers, one of which was now Laurie Abrams. Lynne knew the reason for her dreams; Laurie's most recent letter had left no doubt as to what had happened to Seth in Korea. Lynne had received that note a few days ago, sharing it with both Sam and Renee. She would seek Marek's counsel tomorrow after church, but on that Saturday, Lynne wasn't certain when her husband might return. It had been almost two months since Eric had left, but Laurie's news was far more disturbing than what it conveyed about Seth. Now Lynne had to face the distinct possibility that unless the worst occurred, her husband wouldn't return until after their baby was born.

The worst had been made plain in Laurie's correspondence; Seth may never recover, although Lynne knew Eric wouldn't stay in Florida forever. But he would remain until all hope had been extinguished, which to Lynne would certainly last beyond the remainder of her pregnancy. Eric could last in the wild for five months, and to save a very ill man, he would push that boundary. It would be similar to how Lynne hadn't admitted him to the hospital two years ago, letting Christ heal her husband. As she got out of bed, then used the toilet, Lynne wondered about the actual purpose of that long weekend; perhaps it hadn't merely been to usher in faith for the Snyders. Maybe more reaching ramifications had been set into place.

Jane was still asleep, which gave her mother time to dress, then start a pot of decaf. Lynne didn't expect either Ahern to knock on her door that early, but it couldn't be discounted, for both Sam and Renee had been deeply affected by Laurie's revelations. After Seth had enlisted, a knack for sharpshooting had been discovered. He'd spent several weeks honing that skill, and Sam had quietly wondered if it was due to Seth's sculpting abilities. Some men had better hand/eye coordination than others, Josh for instance, which Sam had chalked up to that man's youth spent shooting small game. Lynne had been surprised at how readily Sam had spoken about his time in the army, but Renee had been sitting by Sam's side. Jane had been napping during that conversation, and when she woke, Sam had taken a few minutes to recover. The rest of their visit, on Thursday, had been spent doting on their godchild. Renee had taken the afternoon off from work, as Lynne had requested their presence, wishing to reveal Laurie's update as soon as possible, but not too late in the evening. That information was somewhat balanced by the Aherns' news; they had been put in touch with a different orphanage, and were waiting to meet with the nuns in charge. Lynne had studied Sam, finding his usual tenderness with Jane unaffected by all he had shared about his past. Lynne was relieved for that, and could tell Renee was too. Yet Lynne expected their hearts were similar to hers in wondering how long Eric would be gone. And maybe this time while Sam tended to Eric, Lynne and Renee would mind children, which made Lynne smile. Perhaps a little Ahern would be added to the flock.

Maybe Marek could assist with Eric or Jane and whoever came along. Lynne had been thinking about names for the baby; Caroline Emma if it was a girl, but she wouldn't name a son for his father, or for his maternal grandfather, as she wasn't especially fond of her dad's name Lloyd. She had found herself referring to the coming baby as a girl, unsure of why, other than she didn't want a son to be raised solely by his mother. Not that Eric had fared poorly with only Emma to care for him, but.... Lynne made herself some toast, then listened for Jane. Two daughters would be lovely, she considered, finally hearing soft mumbles from overhead. Lynne took the stairs, entered the nursery, finding her child standing in the crib, gripping the rails, a beaming smile on Jane's face.

"Good morning you," Lynne said, hoisting Jane aloft. Jane giggled, soft curls dangling along her shoulders. Lynne changed her, then toted her downstairs, where they ate breakfast together as Lynne remarked upon a speech given by Reverend Martin Luther King just days ago. Since Eric left, Lynne had gotten into the habit of watching the nightly news, and since Tuesday many of the broadcasts had focused on the March on Washington and King's "I Have a Dream" speech. Lynne had watched the proceedings live on television, alternating that alongside Laurie's news. She needed to write to him, and would mention that week's events, wondering if he noticed anything different in Miami. Lynne would also inquire with Agatha, but more delicately. Then Lynne smiled at her daughter. Perhaps Jane's generation would inherit a more inclusive world.

Yet, the notion of rights for all had little bearing on Seth, and Lynne said nothing to her child about that man, nor when she thought Eric might return. Jane seemed unbothered, eating and gabbing, but to Lynne she appeared differently, older maybe? How much time would Eric miss, a mother wondered as she caressed where that other child lay. Lynne blinked away tears, then sipped her coffee. She desperately wanted Eric home, but Seth needed him more.

That morning Lynne spent time in the studio, seated on the sofa, cuddling Jane while staring at Sam's unfinished portrait. She could still see Sam's hands in his pockets, even if Eric had painted over that, returning that man's arms to shielding his chest. Sam's eyes were bright blue, then Lynne gazed into Jane's face, that same color staring back at her. Eric had matched it perfectly, which made Lynne shake her head; how keen was his vision as a.... She bit her lip, then set several kisses along Jane's face, making her squeal in delight. Then Jane pulled back, laughing loudly. Lynne stroked her daughter's face, then grazed her hand over the baby. "I miss your daddy so much," she whispered. "But we're not the only ones. The world's full of people and problems and we have all this." Lynne motioned to the canvas. "You can be anything you want sweetie, no one can hold you back." Lynne thought how she might phrase the march to Agatha, and if she might say anything to that woman about Seth. Lynne didn't know Laurie's mother or aunt well enough to send them a note, but she prayed for Rose and Wilma and their daughters. Then Lynne stood, toting Jane on her hip. They approached the canvas, and Jane pointed at it. "Yeah, Daddy will finish it when he gets home." But Lynne's voice trembled and her legs grew shaky. How long would it take Eric to return to painting, and what about the remaining Queens sketches? What about.... Lynne laid her palm along her firm belly. Then she shook her head. "He'll do whatever's necessary in all things." She had to believe that, maybe in the same way Reverend King had alluded to Negroes attaining their dreams.

Returning to the house, Lynne put Jane in the playpen, then started a peach pie. The phone rang; Renee asked if Lynne wanted company, but it wouldn't only be the Aherns. Frannie had arrived with Helene and Johnny. Lynne smiled, said all were welcome, and that pie would be done in an hour. Renee laughed, noting that Sam had felt Lynne was baking, and that they would come over after lunch.

Jane was asleep when guests arrived, but she woke soon afterwards, and the children played in the garden while the adults sat at the patio table. Fran didn't ask where Eric was and Lynne didn't consider how Sam and Renee might have explained Eric's absence. The foursome did speak about Sam and Renee's plans; Frannie was excited about a new member of the family, which then led to conversation about the baby. Sam excused himself, which made Lynne smile. While he watched the children, the women spoke about Lynne's condition, then Renee sighed. Fran had mentioned Lynne having her baby at home again, but Lynne wasn't certain that would be the case. Then Fran stood, joining Sam and the kids. Renee leaned toward Lynne. "Sam told her Eric went to Florida to see Laurie's cousin."

"Well, it's the truth." Lynne gazed at how Frannie knelt by Jane and Helene while Sam chased Johnny. "I wonder for how long we can use that."

"Maybe as long as it takes." Renee leaned back, then sipped her iced tea. "She really likes the idea of you having babies at home." Renee put her cup back on the table. "Funny how that used to be the norm, now it's something novel."

"Or for us it is." Lynne placed her hands on her belly. "But I'm not sure this one will be born here. I just...." She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I don't wanna assume anything." Then she sighed. "I'm gonna have to think up something to tell her." She glanced at Frannie, now sitting on the grass holding Jane while Helene raced around with her brother and uncle. "I don't wanna lie and...."

"I don't think you'll need to say anything more. Fran knows Eric's, that he's, um, different. She said so when Sam said he'd gone to Florida." Then Renee giggled. "She also knows about Laurie and Stanford."

Lynne gaped at Renee. "Are you serious, how?"

Renee picked up her glass, then set it down again. "She asked if Stanford had gone to see Seth, she specifically said Seth. Then she raised her eyebrows. Sam missed it at first. But she nodded at me, then Sam saw he'd missed something. He asked what, and well, let's just say Fran likes to tease her little brother. Johnny and Helene were oblivious, but Fran said she and Louie had noticed something between the New Yorkers last year at Jane's baptism. Sam blushed, then started to cough. Then Fran basically said that Eric should stay as long as Seth needs him." Renee looked into the sky, then met Lynne's still astonished gaze. "She has no idea about, well, you know. But she accepts that Eric's special." Renee lowered her voice. "And while she didn't come out and say it, I bet if you really wanna have the baby here, and if he's not back yet...."

Renee motioned toward where Fran still sat, speaking with Jane. Lynne turned around, finding her daughter in loving arms, but not as if Jane was a substitute. Tears welled in Lynne's eyes; if Sam was caring for Eric, maybe Lynne would deliver in the hospital. But if Eric was still gone, perhaps Sam and Sally could look after Jane while Dr. Salters, Renee, and Fran assisted Lynne. "I'll think about it," Lynne said. Then she smiled. "Sally could watch Jane while Sam paces. Unless he's...."

Renee nodded. "Sam and I've talked about it. Maybe he and Sally can watch the kids at our house." Renee rolled her eyes. "Kids, humph. We'll see about that."

Lynne grasped Renee's hand. "By then I won't be the only mother."

"Maybe," Renee said. Then she shrugged. "If nothing else, don't worry about asking Frannie. I know she'd be thrilled."

Both women paid attention to those now seated together on the grass. Having picked some dandelions, Sam was blowing the seeds, delighting all three children. Fran complained seeds were landing in her hair, but her tone was jovial. Lynne noticed the resemblance between the Ahern siblings, as well as Johnny and Helene. The child adopted by the Aherns wouldn't look similar, but physical appearances would be forgotten as that little boy or girl was assimilated into a loving clan. Jane didn't share any characteristics with Helene, but they got along as if Jane was another cousin. As Frannie gently kissed the top of Jane's head, perhaps Lynne's daughter, and subsequent offspring, would become another niece and maybe a nephew to Sam's sister. Then Frannie gazed at Lynne, a wide smile on her face. Lynne stood and Renee did too, joining their loved ones in the middle of the garden.

Lynne didn't say more to Fran other than how good it was to see her. But before the Aherns and Canfields left, Fran gave Lynne a strong hug. In that embrace, Lynne accepted another sister of sorts had been added to her family, although Fran didn't require an intimate knowledge of Lynne's life. Perhaps that would come to pass in mid-January, or maybe it would only be shared the next time the New Yorkers visited. Lynne and Jane walked their guests to the front gate, waving goodbye as two cars drove away. The rest of the day was quiet, and mother and daughter went to bed early.

They rose in the morning for church, sitting in the rear of the building, as had become Lynne's custom since Eric's departure. There was no communion that day, and attendance was sparse, perhaps due to the Labor Day weekend. Lynne loitered in her seat as Marek said goodbye to his flock. She wanted to share the latest about Seth, although her words would be measured. Jane wouldn't understand, but even thinking about it made Lynne teary.

While this pregnancy had started with copious emotional outbursts, they had lessened, although Lynne did break down occasionally. But no longer did she think it was due to carrying a son. It was simply the result of living with only Jane and knowing the burden Eric was trying to alleviate. Then Lynne stared at her pastor. Something rested in his brown eyes, and she wondered if he had received a reply from Mrs. Henrichsen. Perhaps not yet, he had only written back to her a few weeks ago. Lynne didn't know how long international mail took, although it seemed letters sent to the East Coast arrived within a week. She sighed; she needed to write to Laurie, not wanting him to worry. She would tell him prayers were sent from the west, but not that his and Stanford's secret was known to the Canfields. That made Lynne smile as Marek came her way.

"Hello. I was hoping you wouldn't rush off." Marek sat in front of them, then reached out for Jane. She laughed, leaning his way, then was in her pastor's arms. Marek spoke to her in Polish and she stared at him, wide-eyed.

"What'd you tell her?" Lynne asked.

"Well, to be honest, I asked if there was any pie at her house." He chuckled. "Pretty forward of me, I realize." Then he gazed at Lynne. "I said if not that I had made some caramel slices, just in case."

Lynne smiled. "Actually, I made a peach pie yesterday, but Renee and Sam and his sister Fran came over. Between us and Fran's two youngest, there's one thin slice left."

"Well then, caramel slices it is. Do you have lunch plans?" He tickled Jane's chin. "Not that I have more to offer than baloney sandwiches."

"That sounds fine," Lynne said.

Marek stood, then set Jane on his hip. "All right then, follow me."

The trio went to the kitchen, where Jane was set upon a tall seat, then pushed up to the table. Lynne sat beside her as Marek prepared lunch. The conversation centered on yesterday's visit by the Aherns and Sam's sister, although Lynne left out much of what she and Renee had discussed. Instead she mentioned how well Fran seemed, and that the Aherns were waiting to hear back from the orphanage. Marek remarked at how time was a great healer, then he sighed. "Have you heard from Laurie recently?"

Lynne nodded. "The news isn't good."

"I see." Marek wiped his mouth with a napkin, then said something in Polish, but Lynne didn't feel it was directed at her daughter. Then Marek stood, taking his and Lynne's plates to the sink. "Do you think Eric will be away for an extended period?"

Lynne gazed at Jane, who was still eating. "Perhaps. I guess it's better to hope for that than his immediate return."

Marek stared at her, then nodded. "I suppose it is. But that's not easy for you."

"No, but it's better for Seth and Laurie."

Marek retook his seat, placing his clasped hands on the table. "But Lynne, that might not be God's plan."

"I know. I just don't want to be selfish."

Marek smiled, then sighed. "That's very magnanimous of you."

Lynne shrugged. "I have so much, how can I ask for...." Now she wept, but didn't try to hide her tears. "All week I've been watching the news; did you see Reverend King's speech?"

Marek nodded. "It was the most stirring oration I have ever heard."

"It was, oh yes. I kept thinking how for years and years Negroes have suffered, and how much equality remains to be won. We're lucky here, I mean...." She sighed. "But in The South, not much's altered."

"No, I suppose not. I wonder if Laurie notices anything."

"I'm gonna ask him." Then Lynne sighed. "Have you heard anything back from...."

Marek shook his head. "I probably won't. Or maybe it's easier to think that way."

"Like me not pining for Eric."

"Something like that." Now Marek smiled. "It takes a great deal of inner strength to turn the other cheek, or to set aside one's desires for the greater good." He took a deep breath, then exhaled. "I miss the friendship Eric and I have developed. But then I come in here and look at that painting." Marek pointed to the wall near the sink. "God has placed a wondrous gift within your husband's hands, and while the cost of that treasure is at times very high, the resulting peace is...." Marek looked at Lynne, then at Jane. "We just have to be patient. Maybe that's what Mrs. Harmon has been about."

"Maybe." Lynne smiled, caressing Jane's face. "I hope you hear back from her. I'll admit I'm very curious."

"If I do, you'll be the first to know." Marek chuckled. "And I am too, curious that is." His tone lowered, then he again glanced toward the painting. "For years I purposely didn't think about her, it was the same with my family. Then sometimes I permitted it, the good memories. No harm in recalling those. They're mine and no one can take them from me."

Lynne's heart lurched from Marek's plaintive tone. "No, nobody can."

"But then I'd stop myself, at least when it came to her. I didn't know what happened to her, I still don't. Maybe she married, perhaps she's a mother." Marek glanced at Lynne, then to Jane. "I never felt parenthood was my calling. Parishioners keep me busy enough, and those not members of St. Matthew's," he smiled.

Lynne nodded, but heard something different in his voice.

"Anyway," Marek continued, "my guess is that once she received my note, either she was satisfied with the answer, or so stunned by my reply that she decided to end our brief correspondence. Europeans aren't like Americans, not so brash. Well, the British aren't. Perhaps we Poles are more animated, but I don't know any Norwegians, maybe they're more like the English. If nothing else, she has my response, and in the meantime there are others in need of consideration. Do you think Laurie would mind a letter from me?"

"Oh I'm sure he'd appreciate it. When I get home, shall I call you with his aunt and uncle's address?"

"Yes, that would be lovely. I've been thinking about crafting him a note, keeps my mind occupied when Mrs. Harmon isn't pestering me."

Lynne sighed. "Has she been bugging you again?"

"Every few days I get a visit whether I want it or not. Lately it's been about the chrysanthemums; she's worried the plants are too small, but it's only the first of September." Then Marek crossed his arms over his chest. "Autumn will be here before we know it. Why she's so worried about speeding it up...."

Lynne felt a chill as Marek stopped speaking. Their eyes met, then the pastor nodded. "Do give me Laurie's address. Do you feel he'll be there a while?"

"I do, or I hope so." Lynne's lip trembled. "Actually Marek, I don't know what to wish for other than God's will."

"That Lynne is all we can request. And truthfully it's the easiest thing, for it takes all the burden off of us. Much better to allow Christ to continue the mystery, even if at times it feels like walking in the dark."

She nodded as tears fell down her face. Marek handed her a napkin, then he took Jane from her seat, speaking Polish as he did so. Lynne was comforted by his gentle tone set alongside Jane's earnest babbles, which didn't sound at all like English. Then a mother laughed as her daughter's chuckles rang alongside those of their pastor, their joy sent up like prayers for those far away.
Chapter 129

The ringing stopped as Sam opened his front door. He frowned while entering the house, then placed his jacket on a kitchen chair, still staring at the telephone. It could have been anyone calling, Renee, Lynne, or one of Sam's relatives. It could have been Laurie, but Sam disregarded that, if only for the long distance charges. If something was wrong in Florida, Sam expected to learn about it from Lynne, unless the news was terrible. Then Stanford would call, not that the cost would be much different than from Florida, but Laurie would be in no shape to pass along that type of information.

As far as Sam knew, Seth was still receiving shock therapy, as well as strong medications. How Eric was supposed to help a man so inundated by psychosis, Sam wasn't certain. He rarely dealt with such patients, for there was little for them to impart verbally. Sam had just come from the VA hospital, where his role remained unchanged, chatting with veterans who could talk about battles, but were unable to relate those experiences within everyday life. Their problems might be similar to those Seth had initially suffered, but what that man now endured was well beyond anything Sam could tackle. Sam prayed that Lynne would receive a letter from Laurie noting how that hawk had simply disappeared. Sam might have to return to posing for his portrait, but even that would be preferable to waiting for Eric's homecoming.

Small guilt edged Sam's thoughts, for when he'd last been at the Snyders, chasing after Johnny and Helene, he'd spied that unfinished project in the studio. Eric had painted Sam with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, like standing in front of the Chevy was a form of torture. Then Sam grimaced, staring at the phone, wondering who had called. Maybe it had been someone from St. Francis' Orphanage. Father Markham had returned from his retreat, sending the Aherns' details and priestly references to that home, and once again Sam and Renee were in a holding pattern. But this time, even with Eric's absence, Sam wasn't tentative. He wanted this change, though the timing seemed poor concerning Eric and Seth. A year had passed since Frannie lost the twins, which she had pointedly remarked upon over the weekend. Her visit had carried an ominous sense, which was exacerbated when she revealed that she and Louie knew about the New Yorkers. Sam had then half expected her to mention Eric as a hawk, but concerning Lynne's husband, Frannie only said how special was that man, and how good that he had gone to support Laurie. Her poignant tone had been a little hard for Sam to hear, wrapped up in her lost sons, Lynne's missing husband, and Laurie's ill cousin.

Then Fran had smiled, saying how advantageous it was that Stanford had traveled to Miami, something Renee had briefly spoken about when Frannie first arrived. Sam wasn't even sure how it had come up, but perhaps it had merely been so his sister could reveal what allegedly she and Louie had noticed the first time they met the New Yorkers. Sam felt a little dumb, for he'd known them a good while before realizing the truth, which he'd not taken as blithely as his oldest sibling. Sam would love to know what Louie thought, but that would be gossiping behind Laurie and Stanford's backs. Sam, Renee, and Fran did discuss Ritchie and Brenda's separation, and again Sam had been stunned by his sister's liberal views. She didn't think a divorce would be so bad, especially for how damaged was the Nolans' marriage. Renee had to agree, although her mother was heartsick over it. Ritchie was drinking again, while Brenda was in the process of choosing a lawyer, Renee had said quietly. But better for Brenda and their children not to see him so unwell, Renee had added, leaving her parents' sorrow over their alcoholic son unstated.

Sam had wanted to interject that maybe a new Ahern would stir Marie and Gene's joy, but he'd held his tongue, not wanting to offend his sister. On the way home from Lynne's, Sam had told Renee his thoughts, and she had started sniffling, but not from sadness. Now with his wife Sam talked openly about parenthood, but it was one of the few topics that didn't carry a dark cloud. Yet unlike at this time last year, Sam didn't feel suffocated. The anger and grief he'd possessed when Fran lost the twins had been directly related to him, while Eric and Seth were.... They were his brothers, but not by blood. Then Sam sighed. The child he and Renee would adopt would be similar, and would that detachment linger? He wouldn't know until they got that far, and he glared at the telephone.

If somebody had called from the orphanage, they would try again, as would anyone else with pertinent information. Sam turned his attention to the refrigerator. He needed to start cooking, for regardless of who had phoned, Renee would come home, wondering what there was to eat. He smiled, for their appetites had returned, weight regained. Sam patted his gut, which was larger than Lynne's, but not by much. With this baby she was already showing, and said she could feel it. Renee had tried, but the flutters were too slight, what she'd mentioned on their way home, but not around Fran. Sam didn't think too much about his sister being with Lynne when she had that baby. January was months away.

More on Sam's mind was that coming weekend; he wanted to barbeque, but not at the Snyders. Maybe he could invite Marek too. Sam smirked, then sighed. Then he was curious; Frannie knew about the New Yorkers, did that Pole know as well? Probably, Sam allowed. Marek knew a lot for not having lived long in this town. But did he understand how much Sam had sacrificed by letting Eric paint his portrait?

Sam ignored that, instead focusing on cooking. By the time Renee shouted that she was home, Sam had supper waiting. Renee entered the kitchen with a smile, then joked that her stomach had rumbled all the way from work. Her kiss was light on Sam's cheek, but her hug was robust, and she pressed against him. "Smells so good honey," she giggled. "My goodness I'm hungry."

Then her kisses were more fervent, placed along the back of his neck, making him shiver. Sam turned around, wrapping her close, running his hands through her hair, which was again cut short. She'd done that recently, not giving a reason other than it was easy to care for. He hadn't asked if that was because she thought her time might soon be curtailed, then he gripped her with force, so grateful she was standing near him at all. A year ago they had been far apart, all his fault. Lynne and Jane were living alone and that pained Sam, but Renee was in his arms and very happy to be so, vigorously kissing him. If not for supper, Sam would take her into their bedroom and....

The phone rang and while Renee didn't seem to care, Sam pulled away. "Someone called when I got home," he said quickly. "I don't wanna miss them again."

Renee's eyes went wide as she nodded. "Answer it Sam."

He picked up the receiver. "Hello? Oh hi Vivian." Now he rolled his eyes, staring at his wife. "Yeah, Renee's right here." Sam pointed the receiver toward his wife and Renee stepped his way.

"Hi Vivian. Everything all right?" Renee's voice relayed her slight frustration. Both of them were edgy when it came to the possibility of.... Sam returned to the stove. As soon as Renee was off the phone, he'd dish up supper, but better for food to stay warm in the meantime.

Then Sam stared at his wife. Usually Renee was chatty, but she said nothing more than uh-huh. Sam went to where she stood, finding she had one arm tightly wrapped around her waist, the other gripping the receiver so hard her knuckles were white. Had a patient died, Sam wondered, or had something happened to Dr. Howard? Renee's head was bent over, Sam couldn't see her face. But she shivered and he put his arm around her. To his surprise, she leaned against him as if otherwise she would fall to the floor.

"Well, take as long as you need. And keep in touch, uh-huh. Yeah, I'll let everyone know. And we'll be praying for you all. Okay, sure. Take care and fly safely. Bye bye." Renee's voice trembled as she hung up the phone. She burrowed against Sam's chest, her whole bearing shaky. Then she burst into tears.

"Baby, what is it?" Sam clutched her, then kissed the top of her head. She seemed on the verge of a breakdown, but didn't want to sit. "Oh Renee, sweetheart...."

She wept for over a minute, then looked at him, sniffling as she did so. Her eyes were huge, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Renee, my God, what happened?" Sam brushed away some of those tears, but another wave poured from her eyes. "Honey?"

"Oh Sam, her niece, Vivian's niece was in a terrible car accident! Vivian just got a call from a hospital in Colorado, she's their only next of kin. She thinks, oh my God...." Renee blinked, then crossed herself. "Her niece's in critical condition, the woman I met when I took them the bear. And it doesn't sound good for her husband."

Sam swallowed hard, but bile crept up his throat. "Oh dear God no."

"She's not sure about the, the...." Renee erupted in tears again, and it took another minute for her to speak. "Vivian doesn't know if the kids were with them, all she said was that her niece was, she was...." Again Renee sobbed, nestling against Sam. She only pulled away to retrieve a napkin from the table, but she sat before blowing her nose. Sam sat beside her, gripping her hands when she was through.

"Is she going out there, is that why she called?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, she's leaving tonight. She has no idea when she'll be back, and she tried calling Dr. Howard, but he wasn't home." Renee glanced at the clock. "I'll try him in a little while. Oh Sam, that woman was her only living relative, her and the...." Renee choked, then shook her head. "What if they're, what if...."

Sam nodded; it was one thing to think of adults losing their lives, but little children? Sam winced; the twins had been gone a year, but they had been so sick and tiny. Not that Sam knew anything about these kids, but Renee had seen them; she'd found the little girl's bear, with the plaid scarf. Sam recalled that story from earlier in summer as though Renee had just run that errand. Having left the bear at the office, the girl had been brokenhearted without it. That innocuous task had ushered in where the Aherns now were regarding adoption. If not for that stuffed animal, would Renee had finally come around?

Maybe, Sam thought, but perhaps not until after Eric had returned from Florida, or perhaps never. Sam glanced again at the phone; Renee had still been at work when Sam missed that earlier call, maybe it was simply a wrong number. Sam might never know, but if not for that missed call, perhaps he wouldn't have been as eager to answer Vivian's. Sam shook his head; trivial details were better to consider than the tragedy unfolding for Renee's co-worker. Cradling his still weeping wife, Sam shut his eyes and began to pray. They probably wouldn't hear anything until sometime tomorrow, leaving plenty of time to offer their petitions to Christ.

The next morning Sam drove Renee to work. Then he headed to Lynne's, where he'd told Renee to call him as soon as she heard anything from Vivian. Lynne was surprised by Sam's arrival, but once she learned the reason, she hugged him, then started another pot of decaf.

Sam ate a piece of boysenberry pie while Lynne did the breakfast dishes. Jane was chatty, and Sam studied her, finding other than her eye color how much she looked like her mother. Freckles were just starting to dot Jane's cheeks, and her facial structure reminded Sam so much of Lynne that he found himself staring at mother, then daughter, looking for any differences. Sam couldn't spot any, which made him wonder what the new baby would look like. If it was a boy, perhaps he would be Eric's doppelganger, but if it was another girl, would she have blue eyes like Jane, or brown like Lynne? Lynne came to the table, then took Jane from the high chair, placing the toddler on her lap. Jane's smile was fetching, while Lynne was somber. But still they were like twins; had Vivian's niece shared a similar bond with her daughter?

Was that woman alive or.... Sam gazed at the clock, it was just past nine. "I wonder when we'll learn anything."

Lynne sighed, stroking Jane's head. "They're an hour ahead of us, not sure if that'll make any difference. What a terrible thing!" Lynne kept her voice even, but her eyes appeared haunted. She kissed Jane's head, then shook her own. "I'm glad you came over. Not for the news, I mean. but it's good to see you." Her smile was wan, but color rose in her cheeks. "I think mornings are hardest. I wake up and he's gone and I have to get used to that throughout the day. It used to be bedtime was bad, but now I'm so tired at the end of the night, I never have trouble falling asleep."

Sam had been half-listening, but her tone as she stopped speaking was nearly rote. He met her gaze, seeing a strange fortitude in her eyes. Lynne was weary, but this wasn't new, other than not being completely alone. And not only was there Jane; Lynne was visibly pregnant, her face rounder than usual, her arms filling out. Even with the table blocking much of his view, Sam could see the difference, then he wondered if he hadn't been looking for this change a few days back when Frannie was with them.

Lynne appeared as she had two years ago when carrying the girl who didn't look at all like a baby. Jane was in between that baby-toddler stage, but she was nearly eighteen months old. Sam shivered; Eric had been away for eight weeks, did Jane remember him? Assuming that little girl and boy were all right, for how long would they recall their mother or their father, if he too had.... Sam's stomach ached, but he could do nothing for that family other than pray. He reached for Lynne's hands, then recited the Lord's Prayer. Lynne joined him, but when they finished, Sam still felt sick inside.

Jane began to squawk and Lynne took her upstairs. Sam remained at the table, but didn't finish his coffee. He stared at the furnishings, then realized he had no idea what to make for that evening's meal. He stood, heading for the cupboards; perhaps he would cook there that night, better to be with family. Sam opened a cabinet, then grabbed a cookbook, thumbing through the pages. A loose sheet of paper stopped him; Sam gazed at a drawing of Lynne with her arms outstretched, eyes closed, and her face like he'd never seen, as if a penance had been demanded.

Sam set down the book, then stared at the sketch; when had Eric done this, and why had it been set aside, somewhat deliberately, although Sam felt strange examining it, like he was a voyeur. The drawing had been made in haste, Sam could tell by the rough strokes of Eric's pencil, and the paper almost seemed crumpled. He gazed at the edges, finding the beginning of a tear along one side. Then he returned to Lynne's face, lines framing her mouth, her shoulders slumped, but her arms reminded Sam of.... He shook his head. This wasn't similar to any previous paintings Eric had made of Lynne, although Sam knew of one that it might be like, a nude that Sam had never seen. Renee had talked about it in passing, a picture of Lynne seated on a stool when she was first pregnant with Jane. This image, however, projected little bliss.

Or the joy had come at a steep price, Sam thought. Indeed, it was more like a sacrifice offered; had Christ felt that way when hanging from the cross? Then Sam shivered. This was a similar scene, although Lynne was depicted from the waist up. Yet now that was what Sam imagined, someone giving their all for the sake of others. Maybe Eric had fashioned this as a self-portrait of sorts, maybe he hadn't even been conscious of that notion. Or perhaps it was simply to note how much Lynne had endured over the years. As footsteps resounded, Sam cleared his throat. He laid the sketch on the counter, meeting Lynne and Jane as they reentered the kitchen. "Anyone call?" Lynne asked.

Sam shook his head, taking the toddler from her mother's arms. "All quiet here." Then Sam gazed at Lynne, who was now looking at where Sam had been standing. Sam turned around, the sketch plainly in view.

Lynne didn't speak, but she headed that way, and Sam followed her. Jane was unusually hushed, which made Sam wonder if this child in any way realized the magnitude of her father's talent, or that of his absence. Lynne picked up the sketch, then fingered the paper. Then she stared at Sam. "Where'd you find this?"

"I was looking for a cookbook. It was inside." Sam again cleared his throat. "When did he do it?"

Lynne gazed at the paper. "Last Christmas Eve. I'd asked him to paint me and he drew this and...." She looked at Sam. "I nearly ripped it up, but he took it away before I could." She went back to studying the sketch. "I don't know why he drew me this way, he said he didn't know either." Then Lynne met Sam's gaze. "You found it in a cookbook, is that what you said?"

Sam nodded. "Thought I'd make supper for us here tonight."

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Her voice was soft. "I put it in that cupboard after he did it. But I didn't put it in a cookbook. He must have."

"He must've." Sam squeezed her shoulder. "Lynne, it's gonna be okay."

She nodded absently, still lost in the sketch. Then she looked up, tears in her eyes. "I asked why he did this, if he had something to tell me. He said no, or not that he knew, something like that, but his tone was like, like...." Lynne put her hand right over Sam's heart. "Like he knew it was for something important." Lynne removed her palm, placing it on the baby. Sam didn't say a word.

They stood silently until the phone rang. Sam went to answer it and Lynne followed, taking Jane from his grasp. "Snyder residence," Sam said. "Oh hi honey. Did you hear from her?"

Lynne and Jane left the room as Sam nodded, but his body felt hollow. Then he glanced at the far counter where Lynne had left the sketch. The paper seemed to glow, or maybe it was only the depth of meaning Eric had evoked in probably what had taken him mere minutes. But life changed in seconds as Sam answered that he understood all Renee had said. And while he did comprehend her words, the significance was fuzzy, for there seemed no plausible reason why in Colorado a mother and father were dead, two little children left behind. Vivian didn't know when she would be back, Renee added, which Sam translated into Renee temporarily taking the lead role at Dr. Howard's office. But something else sat behind Renee's words, that perhaps she would become the permanent office manager. As the only relation to those orphans, maybe Vivian would quit altogether, moving east or bringing them here. Renee didn't know those details, which were sort of like the reasons Eric had drawn his wife in such a striking pose on the same day the Aherns learned Robbie Carver wasn't meant to be their son. Sam considered that irony, then told his wife he would collect her from work, and that they would eat with Lynne and Jane that night. Renee agreed to all of Sam's proposals, then asked him to pray for Beth and Roy Hamilton. They hadn't been Catholic, Renee whispered, and she wasn't even sure if they'd had faith. But they were in God's care now, Renee was certain, and Sam concurred with her. They were beyond this place, while their children had been spared.
Chapter 130

In the morning, Lynne and Jane accompanied the Aherns to morning mass. By then they knew more information; Vivian would be staying in Colorado just long enough to assure that Beth and Roy's estate was being properly processed. Vivian was the children's guardian, but previously the notion hadn't been more than a formality. Renee had spoken with Vivian yesterday afternoon, hearing profound sadness within her co-worker's voice. Renee wondered if this tragedy, compounded with Vivian's other losses, might be too much for the woman to bear, not to mention now being the sole caregiver for a three and five-year-old. Vivian was near retirement age, Renee shared with Sam and Lynne, but this wouldn't be as she had planned.

While Lynne remained seated during communion, Renee and Sam took Jane to receive a blessing. Father Markham smiled at them, but his surprise at their rare weekday attendance couldn't be disguised, not to mention the little girl in Renee's arms. Jane spoke in what to Renee sounded like Polish, making Renee wonder if Father Markham's collar reminded Jane of Pastor Jagucki. As they returned to their seats, Renee wanted Marek to be aware of what was unfolding in Colorado; Vivian and those children needed all the support possible.

Sam would probably speak with Father Markham before leaving church, then Lynne would ferry Sam home. Renee was going straight to work, a long day ahead of her. Yesterday Dr. Howard had appreciated Renee's assistance, even if she was a relative newcomer to the office. The other nurse wasn't managerially inclined, Dr. Howard had quietly said to Renee. Vivian ran the practice, he'd smiled, then sighed, as though realizing she had already moved on.

As the service was concluded, Renee held Jane while Lynne blew her nose. Sam stood immediately, but Renee knew that was to let her out of the pew so she could be on her way. She kissed Sam's cheek, then handed Jane to him. Renee leaned toward Lynne. "Thanks for coming this morning."

Lynne nodded, wiping her eyes. "Shall we have supper together again tonight?"

"Sounds good," Renee smiled. "At our house?"

"Sure. I'll tell Sam and...."

Renee nodded, squeezing Lynne's shoulder. She gave Sam one more kiss, stroking Jane's head. As parishioners filed out, Renee joined the queue, quickly shaking the priest's hand. Then she slipped out of St. Anne's, nearly running to the Chevy, pulling out of the parking lot once it was safe to do so.

Jeremy Markham was distressed to learn why the Aherns and their guests were present that morning, promising Sam that he would indeed pray for those orphans, their late parents, and their aunt too. Father Markham said he would inform Father Riley, as well as St. Anne's rosary prayer group. Sam was taken aback at the priest's interest, but knew all supplications were needed. During the drive home, Lynne broached supper, and Sam offered to cook. Lynne said she would make a pie, then she asked if she could invite Marek. Sam nodded, but for a few seconds he wished it would only be the four of them. Then Sam sighed softly, but he didn't think Lynne heard him, for Jane was babbling, although Sam could make out a few words, mama and no and did she say pie? He turned around, and Jane smiled broadly. "Did you just say pie?"

Lynne chuckled. "She most certainly did. Sam, I don't need to call Marek, it's just that...."

"No, no." Sam grimaced, but he was still looking at Jane, who then stared at him. Sam broke into a grin, not wishing to upset the toddler, who responded with another wide smile, then more gibberish. Sam turned back around, seeing Lynne was nearly on his street. "It's just, well...." He wanted to say that Jeremy Markham's eagerness to pray for the Hamilton orphans seemed excessive. But that would sound in poor taste, for those children needed God's protection. Vivian required Mary's strength, and the parents.... Renee hadn't learned if Beth and Roy were Christians, although she knew they weren't Catholic. They were dead now, did that make any difference? Sam didn't think so. If all soldiers went to heaven, maybe mothers and fathers did too.

Reaching the Aherns' house, Lynne parked where the Chevy usually sat, but she didn't turn off the engine. Sam stared at her, wondering many things. What he might cook that night was one detail, but more importantly, he didn't want Lynne to think he held her pastor in disregard. "Please, call Marek. Better to have as many praying for them as possible."

Lynne nodded. "Have you told any of your family?"

Sam sighed. They hadn't informed anyone beyond their priest. Sam wasn't sure why, other than Renee's clan was wrapped up in Ritchie's issues, and as for the Aherns.... Sam should at least call Ted. And Henry, who led the rosary prayer group at his church. But Sam felt odd about notifying his siblings, for this wasn't directly related to him. Vivian was someone with whom Renee worked, and had only known for the last few months. Well, several months, Sam chided himself. But Vivian had done a great deal for Renee when Sam had been sick, and while Renee had returned Ann's bear, now Renee would assume an even greater role for her co-worker. Vivian was merely Renee's workmate and those children had nothing to do with....

Sam swallowed hard, comprehending Father Markham's intention. Maybe intention was too strong a word, but that priest had been instrumental in putting the Aherns in touch with two orphanages. Did he now believe that was unnecessary? Sam hadn't considered this at all, had Renee? Did Lynne, he wondered, staring at her, but she was paying attention to Jane, who seemed to be falling asleep in the back seat. Sam shivered, then quietly cleared his throat. "Listen, take her home, and I'll call you with supper ideas. And do invite Marek, I just didn't wanna bother him with something so...." Unrelated to me, Sam wanted to say. This wasn't more than Renee filling in for Vivian until she could sort out how she would incorporate two youngsters into her life. The Aherns were still waiting to hear from the nuns at St. Francis', maybe they had tried to call yesterday, but Sam had been at the Snyders. Perhaps they had tried to call that morning, yet it had been good to receive communion, then speak with Father Markham. Sam needed to get inside; maybe those nuns were calling every five minutes. Plus he had to go to the store and his car needed gas and.... He coughed and Lynne stared at him. "I better get going, need to run errands."

"Of course." Lynne leaned over, embracing him. "It was good to be with you this morning." Lynne smiled, then sighed. "Sometimes I wish St. Matthew's had daily services. But I suppose I could just pop in at St. Anne's. Father Markham didn't seem to mind blessing Jane."

Sam looked at Lynne, seeing no guile in her eyes. If Eric hadn't chosen to be a Lutheran, this woman would attend St. Anne's every Sunday, and perhaps daily too. Sam could go to mass every morning, but he rarely considered it. "Well, I don't have anything going on early next week. If you want, I'll meet you at church."

"That would be lovely," Lynne smiled. "And next time, I'll join you for that blessing."

Sam inhaled deeply, feeling small peace within his heart. "Father Markham would probably be happy to give you communion."

"I'll ask Marek tonight if that's all right. My goodness, what would my parents think?" Lynne shook her head, then had a soft chuckle. "You better go. I think Jane's asleep." Lynne glanced to the back seat, then at Sam. "Shall we be back here around four, and I'll tell Marek to come at five?"

Sam nodded, but felt a little dizzy. "Uh sure, four, then Marek at five. Yeah, that's, uh, fine." He got out of the car, slowly closing his door. He stood in the driveway as Lynne backed out, then drove away. Sam remained next to the old car for another few minutes, mulling over these strange pieces of information.

While activity buzzed on the West Coast, in Manhattan Stanford kept busy with various clients as well as monitoring Eric's traveling exhibit. Stanford had shared supper on consecutive nights with his father, then endured a lengthy telephone conversation with Rose, who asked Stanford when he thought Laurie might return. It had seemed there was nothing more that Laurie could do for Seth, but for some reason he was still down there, and couldn't Stanford say something to make Laurie come home? Stanford felt as Rose did, although he didn't admit to it, in part that he found Rose's concerns slightly irksome. If Laurie felt it necessary to remain in Miami, what business was it of theirs? Stanford wondered how much of Rose's mood was also that of her sister, but he didn't ask, for that would have kept him on the phone longer. He remarked upon it to Agatha when he saw her the next day, and she had little to add other than she was praying for Seth. Her tone was resigned, which reflected Stanford's feelings. But still Laurie did not make overtures about returning north. Stanford spoke to him a few days after Rose's call, which Stanford didn't detail to his lover. Laurie noted that Seth was still unstable, then he paused abruptly. The line was silent for several seconds, then Laurie quietly told Stanford about the incident with the hawk. And that since then the hawk had appeared outside Seth's window every time Laurie visited, which was daily. Seth didn't respond much, and while Laurie knew it sounded crazy, until that hawk hit the road, he felt compelled to remain in Florida. Laurie took a deep breath after speaking, like he'd confessed a major indiscretion. Stanford kept his voice even, telling Laurie to do what he felt was appropriate. And to please call Rose, explaining as much of this as Laurie thought his mother could understand.

After that conversation, Laurie felt a weight had been lifted, if only that now Stanford knew what Laurie had observed. Maybe Stan thought Laurie was losing his own mind, but since that afternoon in the parking lot, Laurie had accepted his role in Florida wasn't merely that of an advocate for an ill relative. The hawk's arrival had initially seemed innocuous, but then so had Seth's decision to enlist in the army. Had Seth known he would be as skilled of a marksman as he'd been a sculptor? Sometimes Laurie considered that, but trying to ask Seth such a question would be as successful as asking the hawk why he was there.

Sometimes Laurie broached that query, but the hawk never did more than caw, or occasionally poke at its right wing. Then Laurie would turn back to his cousin, who usually wouldn't make eye contact. Laurie wasn't sure why that was; maybe Seth didn't have the cognitive ability, or he didn't want to meet Laurie's gaze. For since the hawk had basically badgered Laurie back inside this facility, Laurie had spoken the truth to Seth; he knew about Seth's role in Korea, and why he had chosen such an assignment. And that the only way Seth was going to leave the hospital was if he could talk about it to Dr. Sellers, or with Laurie. Or with the hawk, who seemed a vital member of this team. But Seth refused to utter more than the random expletive, or mumble that Laurie needed to leave. Yet Laurie returned day after day, and now he considered a few practical matters. He needed more trousers, having only packed shorts. He might look into buying a cheap car, although Sheila and Mickey insisted he use theirs. And he wanted a haircut. That was the easiest issue to amend, and as he sat near the window, the hawk right outside, Laurie mentioned it aloud. "If I don't find a barber soon, I'll be looking like you used to."

Seth stared at the door, not acknowledging Laurie's statement with more than a low grunt.

Laurie stood from his chair, then peered at the hawk, who seemed to gaze absently into space. "I wonder if the hawk will recognize me afterwards. Well, he probably will, but who knows?" Laurie's tone was flippant and he wanted to turn around to see if Seth responded. But now the hawk glanced at Laurie, then seemed to nod. "That damned bird, it's like he knows everything I'm saying."

In the last weeks, Laurie had to admit how this creature exhibited an air of authority, but it was ethereal in nature, or maybe Laurie had attached that sentiment after the bird had chastised him in the parking lot. That's what it had felt like, as if Laurie was a teenager and his dad was reprimanding him for some infraction. Rose had kept her daughters in line, but it was Aaron to enforce the rules with Laurie. But most of his energy had been channeled into sports, leaving his folks with the impression their youngest required little censuring. Seth hadn't needed much in the way of attention either, spending most of his free time sculpting. Laurie turned around, finding his cousin still facing the door. "Do you wanna get out of here for a while?" Laurie asked. "I could see if Dr. Sellers was around, maybe we could get a wheelchair and...."

Slowly Seth faced Laurie. His hair was still shorn; maybe it was easier for the staff to keep Seth clean while he was so debilitated. Laurie met Seth's gaze, but Seth's eyes were vacant. Laurie sighed, then looked back to the window, where the hawk remained.

"What am I supposed to do?" Laurie didn't lower his voice; he needed to say these words, even if neither party would respond. Then he sat down, placing his arms on the hand rests. "I'm here, you wanted me here, but it doesn't seem to be doing a damn bit of good." Laurie shook his head, his hair waving from side to side. He ran his fingers through it, then had a sarcastic chuckle. "Stan wouldn't like my hair this long, he'd say I was looking...." Now Laurie laughed. "Like a queer. It does look pretty effeminate." He spoke that word with force. "I'm surprised Uncle Mickey hasn't said something yet."

Then Laurie sighed. "Jesus Christ, what'm I doing here?" He stood, staring out the window. "Nothing's changed, he's not any better. Maybe you don't have anything going on, but Stan's waiting on me, and God knows my mother wants me home, not to mention my clients, Christ, if I have any left." Laurie shoved his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to turn around. He had spoken aloud about Seth's tenure in the army, the figurines in the library, even about The Holocaust. But none of those subjects had raised any dissent. "Shit, I've been here for ages and for what? So some bird can harass me and my hair's too long and, and.... And I miss home. I miss Stan, Agatha, my God, how I miss her coffee." Laurie smiled. "I miss New York, Jesus, that's funny to admit. And all my pictures of Jane, well, I've got quite a collection here, but...."

A piercing screech from outside made Laurie shake. Then he turned around, finding Seth sitting bolt upright, gazing at the window. Seth's eyes were wide, as if finally a spell had been broken. "Jane's a year and a half old now," Laurie said softly. "We don't know how long Eric's been gone, I wonder if she misses him as much as I miss Stan."

And you, Laurie wanted to add, but Seth still stared at the window. He also gripped the sheet, and Laurie approached him, wishing to touch Seth's right hand. Instead Laurie stood near the bed, watching how Seth never took his eyes from the window. "Eric's been gone since sometime after you were admitted here. Maybe he's in a similar place, we don't know. But if he's really unwell, I hope Lynne or Sam will tell us."

"He's, he's...." Seth's voice trembled, then he met Laurie's gaze. "He's right outside that window. He's been here the whole time."

A chill ran through Laurie as he sat on the mattress. "Oh Seth, no. That's just a hawk." Laurie patted his cousin's hand, then Laurie shook his head. "Well, it's not just any hawk, but it's not Eric."

"It is Laurie." Seth's voice was plaintive. "Eric Snyder is right outside my room."

"Seth...." Laurie sighed. "Listen to me. That's just a bird. Eric's painted a lot of them but...."

The screech made Laurie flinch, then he stared toward the window. The bird hovered just past the panes, then it flew off. Laurie stood, stepping to the window, gazing upwards. Then he stared at the cement. As he did so, the hawk returned, shaking out its feathers, then poking at its right wing. It affixed its gaze directly at Laurie, taking him back to that afternoon in the parking lot when he'd been mesmerized by a creature that seemed to know him. Laurie glanced at Seth, who nodded, then sighed. "That bird is Eric. He changes into a hawk, although don't ask me how or why. But I wouldn't lie about something so...."

"Just stop it Seth." A ferocious ache gripped Laurie's stomach, then he shook his head, trying to conjure a reason for Seth's claim. There was none, Laurie inhaled. Yet as he exhaled, staring at Seth, Laurie knew his cousin believed all he was saying.

"I wasn't gonna tell you," Seth muttered, as if trying to make the peace. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. I'd wondered if he'd be able to fly that far, wasn't sure he could do it, but he did and...."

"Seth, shit, stop this, stop...." Anger now swirled through Laurie, although he wasn't only mad at Seth. Glancing at the window, Laurie wanted to throttle the hawk, who continued to peer at Laurie with the most intense stare. How was that possible, Laurie permitted for a moment; it was merely a bird, maybe a little tuned in with what was going on here, but people didn't morph into animals. Eric was a talented artist, nature in his proverbial backyard, and.... "This's bullshit," Laurie muttered under his breath. He turned around, finding Seth sitting on the edge of the mattress. Laurie looked back to the window, where the hawk waited.

"Oh for Chrissake!" Laurie again shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair. "I've gotta get outta here. I'll see you tomorrow Seth. You and Eric can have a grand old time together. Or actually," Laurie snickered. "Maybe I should introduce you, since you haven't actually met. Seth, that's Eric." Laurie motioned to the window. "And Eric...."

For a second Laurie shivered. Then he laughed. "Eric, this is my cousin Seth. Now, if you two will forgive me, I need to see a barber." Laurie stomped to the door, then turned the handle. But it was locked from the outside, which he had forgotten. He sighed loudly, then swore.

As he did so, Seth stood from bed, then made his way to the window. Laurie looked up, finding his cousin gazing at the outside world, his hands placed firmly upon the panes. Laurie thought he heard Seth speaking, and he tried to tune out, but Seth's voice filled the room, pleading with Eric to go home to his pregnant wife, that there was nothing he could do here. Laurie shut his eyes, feeling trapped, but not due to the locked door. The bird's screech tore into Laurie's heart as fiercely as Seth's erroneous statements. Then the room was silent.

Opening his eyes, Laurie turned around. Seth now sat in the chair near the window, his hands folded in his lap, his head bowed. Laurie squinted, but couldn't see the hawk. He walked to where his cousin sat, then he peered out the window. The hawk's wings were folded in front of him, and he was looking at the ground, as if he was praying. "What the hell's going on here?" Laurie said softly. But no one answered him. He tapped his foot, then sighed. Then Laurie closed his eyes, pleading for someone to let him out of the room.

The door opened immediately, Dr. Sellers poking his head through the crack. "Mr. Abrams, are you ready?"

Laurie jumped at the sound of his name, nodding his head. Quickly he joined where the doctor stood in the corridor. Yet unlike how he usually made small talk with Seth's physician, Laurie didn't speak. He rushed to where the car was parked, but once inside the vehicle, he didn't start the engine. Laurie broke down, beseeching anyone listening to end this madness for all of their sakes.
Chapter 131

Having spoken to Laurie about Eric's whereabouts, Seth pondered many illusory notions, one of which was indeed a fact. After Seth told Laurie the hawk's true identity, that bird had spent nearly all of Seth's waking moments in the courtyard. Staring at the hawk, Seth found he could decipher Eric's caws and screeches, yet he didn't contemplate why that was. More to capture Seth's attention was what Eric revealed in those conversations, which for the most part were still one-sided. Eric had plenty to say, leaving Seth with the distinctive feeling that this hawk wasn't leaving anytime soon.

Since first admiring the blue barn, all the queries Seth had stored away were now on the tip of his tongue. Funny that running off to Florida had brought those questions to the forefront; Seth had come here to escape that possibility. Yet Norah had been waiting for Seth, another piece in the puzzle that since Laurie's last visit had been coming together at a dizzying pace. Seth's previous stays in mental institutions had felt like his tenure in Korea, time achingly dragged out like each minute constituted an entire day. The only part of army life that had sped past was when he'd gripped his rifle, and now he wondered if that had gone so quickly due to the lives he had slain. Perhaps if Eric could turn into a hawk, time itself could be altered, then Seth smiled as Eric again spoke in that odd but discernable manner, reminding Seth that nothing could be taken for granted, not his talent, nor his existence. There was a purpose for Seth's life, regardless of what Seth had done in Asia.

Eric equated that reason to his own inexplicable identity as a bird of prey. The few times Seth spoke was to counter Eric's argument, for what Eric killed as a hawk was merely to keep himself alive. Yet Seth was silenced as Eric finally explained the impetus behind the blue barn; it was the result of a fight with another bird, and while Eric had been defending himself, the fury stirred during that melee had overtaken him to the point that if the falcon had persisted one moment longer, Eric would have killed it. Eric had never told his wife that fact, or Sam Ahern; perhaps as a man it was buried deeply within his psyche. Yet as a hawk, that terrifying notion was easily recalled, and so dissimilar to how Eric hunted to satisfy his hunger. Lizards were his preferred quarry, the occasional mouse if he desired. But he couldn't excise those instincts, and he stared right at Seth as that was stated. In this form, he wasn't a human being but an animal. And perhaps within the confines of war, men changed into similar beasts in order to stay alive.

As that information emerged, Seth nodded, then turned away from the window. He hadn't been the only sniper in his platoon; at times he and Walt Richardson had saved each other's lives. Seth might have been one of the few who'd been driven by an even greater evil, he would admit, and he'd never met another Jew while overseas, which made him smile. Then he turned to face Eric, who was poking at his right wing. Seth had also never met any artists in Korea; the men spoke about their occupations, also about their families, hobbies, with plenty of debates concerning sports. Seth hadn't contributed much to those discussions, for he wasn't in a relationship, had no diversions, and wasn't keen on athletics. He'd often thought of Laurie when that topic came up, then he had tuned out, considering other than in his role as a soldier how tightly woven was his cousin in nearly all facets of his life. Over the years, however, Laurie had been squeezed out of Seth's existence, except for his support when Seth was again residing in a mental institution. But even then Laurie was shielded as depression built an impenetrable wall between them. Now Laurie knew the cause of Seth's illness, but that wasn't what was currently keeping Laurie from Seth's side. Seth smiled, then cleared his throat. "Laurie won't visit because of you."

Eric nodded, but seemed unbothered, continuing to peck at his right wing. Seth stepped in front of the window, placing his hands on the glass. "It's funny because I miss him and I knew if I told him, this might happen. But I couldn't keep lying to him and, and...." Seth's voice trembled. "They're so concerned about you, Laurie and Stanford. And I'm sure your wife is too." Seth bit the inside of his cheek. "But now maybe Laurie will tell her. I hope he does, just so she won't worry about you. I never wanted anyone to get hurt you know, I mean...." Seth sighed as anger rose from the pit of his stomach. "That's not the truth." His voice took on a gravely tone. "I wanted to kill so many...." He threw his hands in the air, then pounded on the windowpane. "You know how many I wanted to kill, each and every single one that, that...." Seth tightly shut his eyes, imagining bodies in front of him, bullseyes placed in the centers of their torsos. During target practice, those markers had seemed as huge as the exploding sun Eric had painted, hanging in Minnesota. Yet, Seth hadn't seen targets within those pieces of art, probably because shock therapy had erased that ugliness. He'd been ignorant of his actions until coming to Florida, meeting Norah, viewing her tattoo. He laughed at himself; how stupid had he been, thinking if he avoided Eric Snyder he would be safe. And now Laurie had been dragged into the madness, which Seth had never wished to happen. "Why the hell did I tell him?" Seth muttered, gazing at the door. If Laurie stepped into the room, perhaps Seth could apologize, then pretend the hawk wasn't more than some random bird who for whatever reason had chosen to....

Seth expected Eric to raise some dissent, but the room was silent. Turning around, Seth assumed Eric had flown away, but the hawk remained, now poking at its left wing. Seth attempted to keep that genderless pronoun attached to the bird, but as it gazed toward the window, making eye contact, Seth shivered. The façade had to cease, even if the consequences were dire to Laurie. This couldn't continue, Seth realized, no matter how painful it was for any of them.

"Will I meet you properly someday?" Seth whispered. He stepped toward the window, again placing his hands on the glass. "I want to shake your hand, I wanna...." Seth blinked away tears. "How can I repay you, how can I, oh Jesus!" Seth shook his head, letting his arms fall to his sides. "There's nothing I can do worth the sacrifice you've made. For God's sake, go home. It doesn't matter now. Laurie can think what he likes, I'll just stay here and...."

The screech made Seth's flesh crawl, for it sounded nothing like that of a bird, more like the scream of a wounded man. How often had Seth heard those shrieks, but had shut them out as if they were no more than gunfire or bombs exploding. They were a part of war as vital as machinery, for that's what weapons were for; to maim, then kill. Killing was better, the ultimate victory for either side. No messy injuries to attend, nothing wasted but another life, although what did those lives matter, for when one was over, another stood up, ready for the firing line. Which had little to do with art, be it paintings or sculptures. And it certainly had nothing to do with Eric's other mainstay, that of a father. He was a husband to be sure, but as a father he'd had the honor of helping to create a human life. Fortunately for Eric, that child was a daughter, safe from being called to duty. Had Eric wished for a son, Seth wondered. Probably not. But now another baby was coming, its gender unknown. Seth trembled, then peered out of the window. The hawk's gaze was piercing, like it had read Seth's mind. "You want another girl, don't you? You're hoping she's not carrying a boy."

Eric nodded, which made Seth shiver all over. "I don't blame you. Aunt Rose still wishes Laurie wasn't a homosexual, but between us, she's grateful he never had to serve."

Again the hawk nodded, but this time it wouldn't meet Seth's gaze. Seth had never considered being anyone's father, but he'd always thought Laurie would have been a good dad. Not that he'd expressed such wishes, but Laurie had a grand capacity to love. Tears fell down Seth's face. "I'm sorry I dragged you all the way out here. Jesus Christ, I've hurt so many people." Seth inhaled deeply, then let it out, seating himself but still maintaining Eric in his sights. "What'm I supposed to do now? Can't you just leave, can't we just call it...."

Now Eric stared directly at Seth, the bird's dark eyes nothing like those of a human, yet the longer Seth looked, the more oval they appeared. Seth blinked, finding Eric still peering at him, those eyes round but as if Eric could change form in the time it took Seth to blink again. How did the transformation happen, and how long could Eric remain as a hawk? If Seth continued to drag his feet, might Eric never alter back into a man?

The hawk offered a stoic cry, which made Seth grimace. "Five months, huh, good God." If Seth had understood correctly, Eric had left home on the Fourth of July, right after Seth had been admitted into this hospital. Laurie had said the couple's baby was due in January, dates that made Seth slightly dizzy. He closed his eyes, leaning over in his chair. Eric wasn't going anywhere until all possibilities had been exhausted. Yet, unlike how Laurie had claimed the same, this didn't weigh upon Seth in a painful manner. The wooziness subsided and he looked up, finding Eric had moved to the far part of the yard. He appeared to be watching something, and Seth stood, again stepping to the window. But he didn't set his hands on the glass; he squinted, observing how Eric was going to obtain lunch.

The lizard had to realize the hawk's presence, but perhaps it felt that natural camouflage would keep it concealed. Yet Seth knew otherwise, for not only was Eric a bird of prey, but a man with a family on his mind. Eric wouldn't depart until Seth was well, yet while he remained in Florida, he would endeavor to stay as fit as possible, for who knew when he would leave, perhaps in the middle of winter. Seth permitted that consideration, for he was lost in the wonder, also the slight horror, of a creature about to lose its life. Within seconds, Eric reached for, killed, then ate the lizard. Seth didn't move as this occurred and after Eric had consumed his prey, he turned around, nodding. Seth nodded back, pressing his hands firmly against the panes. There had been no rage in Eric's action, only calculated premeditation. Yet Eric had only been a hawk for two months, plenty of human emotions still within him. "Will you forget you were ever a man," Seth said softly, then he closed his eyes. Tears escaped, stinging his cheeks. Right before he was sent home, Seth had shut out his entire family, even Laurie. Then he choked as sobs began. Those last weeks in Korea, Seth had continually placed himself in the most dangerous situations, earning praise, as well as concern, from his commanders. Fellow soldiers understood, or those who truly recognized Seth's actions; he'd been hoping to be killed. Yet somehow his life had been spared, if not his sanity. Yes, he'd been young, but still legally an adult, a man. But who was that man, a sculptor perhaps, a Jew? A survivor, but not of The Holocaust. Why was Seth still living?

Rare were the times he pondered that question, more to capture his imagination was why had he been a spectacular failure at suicide? He smiled at himself, like it was the most ironic joke. He'd thought going to Florida would be the answer, yet here he was again locked away, but nothing in his life, regardless of its length, would ever be the same. Had Eric thought that when he changed back into a man, or when he turned into a hawk? Or when he became a father; how had that event altered the creature, still gazing at Seth. "What will happen to you?" Seth said, then he coughed. "If I get better," Seth chuckled, "then will you stop changing?"

The bird seemed to shrug, then looked to the sky. Then the hawk gazed at Seth, making him tremble. "I've never thought about it," Seth replied. "I don't know what kind of man I'm supposed to be."

What kind of man returned from such an abyss, Seth then mused, but not merely about himself. How had Eric altered over the years, as a painter, a husband, a friend. If Eric was a human being, Seth imagined they would be good friends, perhaps as close as Seth was with Laurie, without the pain. Art would connect them, also loss of their humanity, although Eric's forfeiture only lasted as long as he was a hawk. Yet for how much longer could Seth exist in a similar manner, as if a beast of nature? His hands suddenly ached with such a thought, then Norah's voice crept into his head: You're a sculptor, correct? Was he? Seth gazed at his hands, then thought of how gently she had touched him, as though she could will that gift back into him. Seth stared at Eric, taking in nothing remotely human. But somehow this creature would again transform into that of an artist, a husband and father and of.... A man. Was it a miracle, Seth wondered, it must be. And if that was possible, what if he could fashion some semblance back to the person he'd been years ago, although the guise wouldn't be that of a youth. Yet not even in his early twenties had Seth been close to adulthood, to manhood, in whatever form it was meant to be for him. He was thirty-four years old, although he rarely considered his age. Before he had been ageless, but even hawks had limited lifespans. Yet Seth didn't worry that Eric's alterations would affect how long he lived. More to the point was Seth's own timeline; it wasn't extraordinary, other than how often he had stirred in yet another medical facility. He looked behind him while a shiver traveled up and down his spine. When he woke after this most recent attempt, he knew it would be his last unsuccessful try. Had that been why he had asked about Eric, was some small part within him hoping to be rescued?

And if so, was there art to complete, some vast truth to be explained, what was the reason? Seth returned to face the window, seeing not only Eric as a bird. Another vision hovered, but it had nothing to do with war or death or pain. It was healing in nature, and so close to his grasp, stirring something warm within his chest. Laurie occasionally roused such a feeling of.... Hope flickered inside Seth's ribcage, first as a spark, then slowly building into a fire spreading through his upper body, then shooting down to his lower limbs. His legs tingled, his hands itched, but not like when he worked with clay. These sensations were stronger, perhaps how Eric felt when he changed form. Yet there was no agony, and somehow Seth understood Eric's transformations weren't this straightforward. Seth looked at his arms, then to his legs, that feeling still coursing through him. Then he gazed at Eric. "Will you stay? I don't think I can do this alone."

The hawk nodded, then leaped as close as he could get and still be seen. They were separated by the confines of the hospital, but Seth imagined Eric was actually standing behind him, ready to catch Seth in waiting arms. Seth closed his eyes as that idea swirled through him, then he was caught up in that still lingering hope, washing through his veins. He began to cry, then fell to his knees as huge, silent sobs wracked his frame. But the hope didn't leave him, nor did Eric fly away. Once Seth had permitted that realization, he inhaled, then exhaled, getting to his feet. The hawk had moved across the small courtyard, seemed to be collecting stones. Seth sat down, then began to speak about Korea. The ideas were connected to the blue barn and while the hawk continued gathering rocks, he listened to everything Seth needed to say.
Chapter 132

During the second week of September, Lynne daily met Sam at St. Anne's. Marek had no quarrel with Lynne taking communion at another church, and had personally called Jeremy Markham, who admitted that while Father Riley might object, he would be happy to bestow that sacrament to Mrs. Snyder. All that week, while Renee spent extra hours at Dr. Howard's office, Lynne felt refreshed from spending time with Sam at his place of worship. Often during those services, Lynne pondered the significance of the Hamilton children, but she didn't mention her ideas to anyone but Jane. Jane didn't seem to care, but the coming baby did somersaults within its mother every time Lynne prayed over Ann and Paul.

The baby moved constantly, or it seemed that way to Lynne, who longed to share these flutters with those she loved. She received a letter from Stanford, addressed only to her. He expressed weariness, but did scribble a few lines about a weekend spent in Miami. Lynne giggled as she read, feeling Stanford's initial hesitation, then his guarded delight in sharing such details. She would write back that she was pleased for his brief holiday, not commenting on the hawk which he saw on the way to the airport. Lynne ached for how much she missed Eric, but at least Laurie and Stanford had enjoyed time together.

Renee received a call from Vivian; she was due back with the children at the end of the month. She apologized for how long lawyers were taking, but it was probably for the best, in that Ann and Paul were given additional time to grieve within a familiar house. Vivian didn't infer to how those children were coping, and Renee didn't ask. But Sam inquired, which surprised Renee. They had finally heard from the head sister at St. Francis' Home that their paperwork had been approved. If the Aherns preferred, the nun could send them dossiers on prospective children, for the orphanage was several hours away. Renee thought that would be best, especially since she was working such lengthy days. Sam agreed, although his tone was cautious. Renee wanted to ask him about it, but they rarely had time to talk over more than family matters; Brenda had hired an attorney, and to Marie and Gene's dismay, was moving along with divorce proceedings. Renee hadn't spoken to any of her relatives about the reasons for her late nights, but Sam had asked some of his siblings to pray for Renee's co-worker, who had lost her niece in a car accident. Sam neglected to mention the children, there seemed no need. He and Renee were simply waiting for files on available children at St. Francis', case closed.

But every day Sam considered the Hamilton orphans, how he thought of them. Sitting next to Lynne at St. Anne's, instead Sam imagined his wife beside him and Jane wasn't a toddler, but three years old. A little boy fidgeted on Sam's other side, about Johnny's age, if Sam remembered. After running that errand Renee had said so little about those kids, yet now Sam dredged his brain for any scrap she might have mentioned. The bear had a plaid scarf, was that important? He'd wanted to ask what the children looked like, but had refrained. Then he reproached himself; other orphans were waiting, kids who had lived without parents for far longer than Ann and Paul. But, Sam asked God, why now had a mother and father been taken from their children, and the only one to look after them was more to the age of a grandparent?

On Friday the thirteenth, Sam waited for Lynne on the church's front steps. He didn't give much regard to the date while scanning the street, then he smiled as Lynne drove into the parking lot. She waved at him and he walked toward her. By the time he reached her, she was taking Jane from the back seat. "Here, I'll carry her." Sam collected Jane from her mother. "I was starting to wonder if...."

"Marek called and then Jane needed a new diaper." Lynne sighed, tucking hair behind her ears. "But we're here. Believe me, wild horses couldn't keep me away."

Sam nearly chuckled, but kept his glee hidden. He didn't expect Lynne to leave St. Matthew's, but why not celebrate two faiths? Then he did laugh softly, not at all sure that Father Markham would be so accommodating. "Well, I'm glad to see you. C'mon or we'll be late."

The service was the same as it had been all week, but Sam felt eyes were all over him. Did others think he was cheating on Renee? That seemed preposterous, but then overactive imaginations had troubled Lynne when she worked beside Renee. Sam concentrated on Father Markham's words, nothing surprising in that morning's liturgy, nor was it odd when Lynne stood next to Sam for communion. Jane received a blessing, Jeremy's voice warm and inclusive. Lynne seemed eager for the bread and wine, but her bearing was also that of a woman at peace. Sam wondered how she maintained such composure, what with Jane wriggling in her arms, the baby doing about the same from within. Sam couldn't wait to feel that child moving about, then he sighed, again finding stares cast his way. When he tried to meet those eyes, the glances were abruptly shunted to the floor or toward the altar. Walking back to their pew, Sam stared down a few folks who he knew well. Then he huffed to himself. He would encourage Lynne to come again next week, and to hell with those who thought the worst was occurring.

At the end of the service, Father Markham dismissed the congregation with a prayer request for a family in Colorado. He said nothing more, but Sam knew the recipients, and it was a funny family being formed. Then he thought about Stanford and Laurie, shaking his head not at himself, but at the novel idea of what constituted a familial unit. Vivian might be in her sixties, but she seemed to have plenty of energy. Maybe Ann and Paul would benefit from her wisdom. And perhaps Sam and Renee were adopting at a perfect time. Whoever they brought into their home could befriend the Hamilton children. Sam sighed louder than he thought, for Lynne looked his way. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just ready to move on. What're you doing the rest of the morning?"

"Actually, I'm going to see Marek. He has...." Lynne cleared her throat. "Something to speak to me about."

"Oh, um...." Sam almost blushed. "Well sure, of course." Then he frowned. "He's not cross about you being here, I mean...."

"Oh no," Lynne giggled. "He fixed supper for us and Father Markham a few nights ago. We had a lovely discussion about ecumenism."

Sam looked perplexed, then stared down the aisle where that priest was shaking hands with parishioners. Again stares were cast Sam's way, but he forgot those looks, gazing at Lynne. "Ecumenism huh? That's pretty weighty."

"Well, my coming here opened the door for the topic. Both were very pleased for it and they hoped it would continue. Marek mentioned how you and Renee were Jane's godparents, so it was fitting that I was reciprocating."

Sam nodded, feeling sheepish. He'd never thought about introducing Jane to Catholicism in regards to being her godfather. "That's a pretty nice idea." Sam smiled, taking Jane from her mother. "God's everywhere, nobody has a corner on the market."

"Indeed." Lynne brushed stray hairs from Jane's eyes. "All right, we should be off. But I'll let you do the honors." She patted her small bulge. "Somebody gets tired of big sister after while."

Sam laughed. "Better get used to sharing there little one." He led Lynne to where Father Markham stood, but others were ahead of them. One older lady who had been giving Sam her attention now turned to face him. Sam smiled, but wasn't sure how to respond if she happened to speak.

As she took a breath, another lady interrupted. "Oh hello," she said to Lynne. "How nice to see you again."

Lynne grinned. "Mrs. Stewart, so good to see you."

Sam observed the conversation, then he stepped to the side of the aisle as Lynne and the woman chatted. He didn't know Beverly Stewart all that well, but she seemed acquainted with Lynne. The other lady moved on, continuing to gaze at Sam until Father Markham shook her hand.

As Lynne said goodbye to Beverly, Sam switched Jane to his other arm. "So," he started, "how do you know her?"

Lynne smiled. "I met her almost two years ago in this very church. She was a former patient and...." Lynne wiped away tears. "She told me I was having a girl and that Eric would be home soon. Funny, seeing her again with him away." Lynne sighed. "She didn't mention him, only said how big Jane was. And she wanted me to tell you she was praying for the orphans in Colorado." Lynne lowered her voice. "I noticed people were staring at you today, I think that's why."

"Why what?"

"Well," Lynne cleared her throat, then squeezed Sam's hand. "There's a reason for all things Sam. We'll just see what happens."

Before Sam could speak, Lynne was walking toward Father Markham. When she reached him, he greeted her like she was a member of this parish. Sam caught up to them, also receiving a friendly handshake. But Lynne seemed eager to leave, so Sam followed her out, putting Jane into the back of the car. He watched Lynne drive away, then wondered about her inference, forgetting all about where she was heading.

Arriving at St. Matthew's, Lynne parked in front of the church. Just as she opened her car door, Marek appeared on the front steps. "Need a hand?" he grinned.

"Oh yes please." She stepped back, allowing the pastor to retrieve his charge. Then she chuckled as that phrase popped into her head, but there had been no way to keep it out. Marek had received a reply from Mrs. Henrichsen and wanted to share the contents. Gazing at him, Lynne smiled. She had spoken about ecumenism with this pastor and Father Markham, but they had also joked about the men's proclivity toward certain games of chance. Lynne thought that Marek was as good a poker player as he had claimed Jeremy was, for Lynne couldn't discern a single idea as to what Mrs. Henrichsen might have written.

Marek asked about mass and Lynne replied how much she enjoyed the service. "But maybe a big part of it's due to the priest," she said slyly.

Now Marek laughed. "Well, we'll keep that from Father Riley." They reached the vestibule and Jane squawked. "What?" Marek said, tickling Jane's chin.

"I'll change her, then we can talk." Lynne took the baby from Marek.

"Actually, Carla will be here soon. I'd prefer to wait until she can mind Jane."

"Of course," Lynne nodded, staring at her pastor.

Marek smiled. "I'll start some tea and Miss Jane can have milk with her biscuit."

Lynne watched him walk down the corridor, then step into the kitchen. Then she took Jane into the ladies' room.

The threesome enjoyed their snacks until Mrs. Kenny arrived, at which time she gladly toted Jane into the library. Marek waited for a moment, then closed the kitchen door. Lynne sipped what remained of her tea, then placed her cup near Jane's. "So what have you learned?" she said softly.

Marek retook his seat, clasping his hands together on the table. "Lynne...." He paused, cracked his knuckles, then smiled. "This time last year your husband visited me during the Missile Crisis. We had a rather unique conversation. He told me he knew about my past. It was then I realized there was something very special about Eric. It was his eyes, his eyes are so...." Marek cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to delve into topics I know are distressing. Lynne, this woman is from my village, she...." He stood, then went to the counter, taking a letter from a drawer. He set it on the table. "I'd let you read it, but it's in Polish." He chuckled, fingering his name on the front of the envelope. "There's not much to it; she seemed happy to know I'm simply Jane's pastor." Then Marek smiled. "Her uncle had moved to Oslo before the war, and somehow she and her parents managed to flee Poland before the Soviets took over. She'd assumed I'd died with my family, and said she was so glad to know I'd survived."

Lynne remained composed, although it took much concentration to not cry. Her tears wouldn't have been merely for the woman's survival, but in Marek's delight. His voice was even, his words restrained, but in twinkling brown eyes, Lynne saw great joy, and perhaps it was only that three fewer people had been lost during the war. Yet, Lynne felt a different reason for Marek's tempered happiness. Then she sighed inwardly; was it only in what she didn't want to know? "Marek, that's wonderful. You must be thrilled."

He nodded. "Yes, it was very good to hear back from her, and to have the mystery solved." He picked up the envelope, staring at his name again. Then he met Lynne's gaze. "Klaudia's a widow, her husband died over a decade ago. And she has a son." His voice lowered with that fact. Then he stood, putting the letter not in the drawer, but on the counter. Lynne wondered if he would store it in a safer place after she left. She set her hands on the baby, which was tumbling about. Then she met the pastor's gaze. Marek blinked away tears, but his smile was wide, if not somewhat shrouded. "So that's the end of Mrs. Henrichsen from Oslo."

"Is it?" Then Lynne shook her head. "I'm sorry, that was rude. Well, good to have one mystery solved." She stood, placing her hands along her back, but still the baby wriggled. If her husband was there, perhaps Marek would have been able to speak more freely. Lynne took a deep breath, which seemed to calm her unborn child. "I better check on Jane. Mrs. Kenny won't get any work done at this rate."

Marek approached her. "I loved her very much, but we were so young. She didn't insinuate any more than what I've said. She seems to have a busy life, and while I would've liked to continue the correspondence, she didn't extend an invitation for me to do so." Marek sighed. "I won't pester her." Then he chuckled. "Maybe that the lesson I'm to learn from Mrs. Harmon."

Lynne grasped his hands. "Can I be so bold as to offer a feminine perspective?"

"Of course."

"Why would she have written to you about Jane? Why not just ask if you were who she thought you were? Did she say anything about her son, or her late husband? Marek, I don't mean to be some busybody...." Lynne smiled while Marek laughed. "But here you are, telling me how you felt about her. That's a very private notion, and yet she had the audacity to ask if you'd had a child." Lynne gazed at the envelope, then she huffed. "When Laurie first started writing to me, I learned more from what he didn't say than what was on the pages. I sort of feel that way now. He and Stanford know Eric's gone, I got another letter from Stanford addressed only to me. Maybe I'm way off the mark, but I can't believe after all these years she doesn't...."

Lynne paused, not only because to continue might be overstepping her place. She had insinuated something intimate between the New Yorkers. But she ached for honesty, so tired of not being able to share her husband's absence with two people for whom she cared deeply, and who she knew were worried about Eric. She wondered if Seth had told Laurie exactly who that hawk was. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interfere. It's just that Stanford's, well, he's concerned about Eric. And about Jane and me. And I know Laurie is too. They're, well, they are...."

"Together, and it's understandable that they've discussed this." Marek sighed, but not in displeasure toward the men. "Is there any way you could tell them, or at least Laurie?"

Lynne began to cry, but she shook her head. "I'd love to, but how? Oh Marek, we've wanted to tell you, not that it's our place, but...."

He smiled, then led Lynne back to her chair. He pulled his closer, then sat beside her. "What matters is conveying that Eric is all right, which might assist in Seth's recovery. If he's told Laurie who he thinks this hawk is, Laurie won't believe him, and that behooves no one."

"Yes, I've thought about that." Lynne reached for a napkin in the middle of the table, then blew her nose. "There's something else on my mind. It's about those children in Colorado. I told Sam today that he should keep an open mind, although he and Renee are waiting to receive information from the orphanage up north. My goodness," she sighed, dabbing at her eyes. "So much is happening, it's hard to keep up with it all."

"I agree. How are you feeling?"

"Pregnant," she shrugged. Then she giggled. "The baby moves all the time. Jane did too, it's reassuring. But I miss him and I know he misses us and...." She reached for another napkin, but Marek gave her his handkerchief. Lynne used it, then balled it up, again dabbing at her eyes. "I just wanna tell Laurie the truth. The last I heard from him, Seth was, oh my goodness, in such a bad way. Did you write to him?"

"I did, but other than offering my prayers, there was little to say."

"My letters have been about the same, well, I tell him about Jane and the baby." Lynne set her hands on that bulge. "I'm trying to be patient, but the longer this goes on...." She glanced at the counter. "You didn't expect her response, I mean, if she'd been anyone else, that would've sufficed. But she's not just anyone else." Lynne brushed away a few tears. "You know better than anyone how short life can be. Look at that couple in Colorado, or Fran Canfield's twins. If it was me, I'd write back. Maybe give her a week, but there's something she's not telling you. Why did she need to know if Jane was your child if she has her own son? That doesn't make sense to me."

Marek patted Lynne's hand. "Thank you for your, how did you phrase it, feminine perspective. Perhaps I'll give it a little time. And maybe I'll reread it, see if my Polish is rusty. Perhaps I missed some key element." He smiled. "Or I'll read it to you, see what you hear in between the lines."

Lynne laughed. "My Polish is very poor."

"Perhaps, but you have a way of hearing what others don't, the way Eric sees so well. And maybe," Marek said with a grin, "it's time for Mr. Abrams to learn a rather intriguing truth."

Lynne stared at her pastor. "Are you gonna tell him?"

"No, but I'm going to pray for enlightenment for all of us. And for the New Yorkers to again be together, just as I pray for you and Eric to be reunited. As you said, life is short. Love is meant to be shared with our intended partners, regardless of differences between us."

"Like hawks and humans," Lynne smiled.

"Something like that." Marek gazed at the letter. "Shall we pray together?"

Lynne nodded. "Isn't it when two or three are gathered, Jesus is among us?"

"Oh yes." Marek bowed his head and Lynne did the same. The missive was brief but stirring. After saying Amen, Lynne grabbed another napkin as Marek stood, placing the letter in his back pocket. Then he took a cookie from the plate, saying he would return with Jane. Lynne smiled, breathing deeply. If Laurie reached out with a most curious query, she would speak the truth. And Lynne hoped if God was willing that Mrs. Henrichsen would do the same.
Chapter 133

Sigrun Vang approached Klaudia's door early on Saturday morning, but once on the step, Sigrun hesitated. Klaudia had been with Marek all week, only arriving home last night. Sigrun didn't grasp any mail, although letters waited on her kitchen counter. Harald would ask why she hadn't taken the post with her, but nothing from America was mixed among the envelopes, and it wasn't merely that pastor on Sigrun's mind.

Finally she knocked, softly at first, then two more hearty raps. It was half past eight, and even if Klaudia had been tired from the journey, the sun was bright overhead and life stirred along their street. Then Sigrun smiled, hearing footsteps. The door opened with Klaudia poking her head through the door frame. "Do you know what time it is?" she mumbled.

"Let me in, I need some coffee." Sigrun pushed her way into the small foyer, then marched into the kitchen where the scent of coffee mixed with tobacco. Klaudia had been awake, although perhaps not long. One lit cigarette sat in the ashtray, halfway smoked down, while a cup of coffee rested nearby. Sigrun poured her own mug, then went to the table, where from Klaudia's open pack she removed a cigarette. Sigrun lit it, then took a long drag. She sat in her usual spot, grabbed her coffee cup, and inhaled the brew. It was the normal routine whether these women were at Klaudia's house or the local cafe.

They rarely shared coffee in Sigrun's kitchen, unless Harald was on one of his rare business trips. Sigrun watched as Klaudia sat down, grabbed her smoke, then enjoyed an equally long hit. She set what remained in the ashtray, then leaned back in her chair. "Did you bring the mail?" she asked.

"No, nothing but bills. How's Marek?"

Klaudia sighed, picked up what was left of the smoke, then finished it. She stubbed out the butt, sipped her coffee, then gripped the mug. "He'd had a seizure. But he's all right now."

Her tone was resigned and no tears edged her eyes. Sigrun nodded. "Thank God." Then she gazed at Klaudia. "If that was all, why'd they call you?"

"Well, the seizure was new, and I was going there next week anyway." She drank what remained in her cup, then set it on the table. "He seemed happy to see me. They said he was unconscious for several minutes, but he never stopped breathing, so...."

Sigrun inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a cough. She took another drag, shook her head, then place the smoke in the ashtray. "Could they tell if this might be, well, something to expect?"

"Oh, they have no idea." Klaudia crossed her arms over her chest. "They do the best they can. They never expected him to live this long. Or if they did, they sure as hell did a good job hiding it from me."

Sigrun nodded. "How'd he look?"

Klaudia shrugged. "The same, well, he's lost a little weight. He always does in summer." She fought a smile, then chuckled. "In that respect, he's just like Gunnar, hates being cooped up. My God, he'd live outside if they'd let him." She fiddled with the handle on her mug. "He still looks like he's six years old, like if I could just...." She fought tears, only permitting a few to trickle down her cheeks. She sniffled back the rest, then lit another cigarette, taking long inhalations. "Anyway, he's fine. We did a lot of walking, they wanted him to be active to see if that had triggered the seizure. He was fine and maybe I lost a couple of kilos."

"I'm the one who needs to lose a kilo. Five kilos, mind you." Sigrun picked up her smoke, finished it, then drank her coffee. "Well, if it's nothing they can track, I guess it's another thing to watch for, if it happens again."

"If it happens again, I'm not driving up there to trek around the woods." Klaudia snorted, then sat up, placing clasped hands on the table. "It's all unknown. They can't tell me anything and he can't either. Well, we did talk a little." Now she smiled. "He told me about rabbits and squirrels." She gazed absently into the room. "He's taller than me now, but his voice, it's just like he's...." Klaudia took a breath, then let it out. "He'll never change. If a seizure kills him, it won't be the worst thing."

Sigrun nodded. "You do look like you've lost a few kilos."

"Is that your way of asking me to breakfast?"

"At least. Maybe lunch too." Sigrun smiled. "I'll run home, tell Harald, grab the mail and...."

Klaudia had stood from the table, stepping to the sink, gazing out the window. All to see was the next house over, some blue sky interspersed with white clouds, cars rumbling along the road. Sigrun joined her, but left space between them. Klaudia might speak forthrightly about her son, it was a manner of protection. But that wasn't the only man on Klaudia's mind.

"There weren't any letters from America. I'd have brought that one for certain." Sigrun spoke softly as Klaudia kept staring out the window. "Harald will wonder why I didn't bring it all over now. I just wanted to know if Marek was okay."

Klaudia nodded. Then she cleared her throat. "There won't be any more letters from The United States."

Sigrun had a small gasp, then faked a cough, which brought on a real cough. She took several deep breaths afterwards, fully aware she smoked too much. Then she reached for Klaudia's hand, gently placing hers on top of it. "Why no more letters from America?"

"Because I made it clear there didn't need to be."

"You what?" Sigrun stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. "Why the hell'd you do that?"

Klaudia turned, wearing a quizzical gaze. "Why do you think?"

"I have no idea to tell you the truth. You said you...."

"Oh my God, that was twenty years ago." Klaudia snorted, then stared out the window again. "This is my life, right here on this street, or walking around the godforsaken woods with...." She paused for seconds. "My son." Then she looked at Sigrun. "That's the truth. He has his life and this's mine and...."

"What'd he tell you?" Sigrun had seen the letter, but it was written in English, so all she knew was what Klaudia had noted. Not that if he'd written in Polish would Sigrun have been able to read it. A few mysteries had been cleared since Klaudia had received that reply; she'd learned English from Gunnar before they moved to this neighborhood, before Klaudia had become a mother even. Gunnar had taught his new wife two languages simultaneously, in part that he knew little Polish, and from his job as a linguistics professor. Polish seemed to be one of the few tongues Gunnar Henrichsen couldn't understand, but Klaudia had been a quick learner. They had hoped to speak several languages around their child, but that dream had immediately been discarded after Marek's traumatic birth. Then Gunnar had demanded they only converse in Norwegian, yet Klaudia kept up her English by reading newspapers and books when she had time. And after Marek had been sent away, time had become plentiful, permitting her to study English, although she claimed that speaking it was difficult. Sigrun threw up her hands. "Klaudia, answer me! Did he say...."

"He just said the baby belonged to some of his parishioners. That he'd survived, obviously. And that he was very glad to hear from me."

"Then why did you give him the brush-off?" Sigrun knew that Klaudia had written back to that pastor, in their native language; she'd seen the letter, a brief two pages in Polish. "If he was so glad to hear from you...."

"I just told you. This is my life, end of story."

"Oh for goodness sake! That's a load of...." Sigrun went for her mug, pouring more coffee. She sipped it, then put the cup on the counter with a thump. "You love him and...."

"I do not." Klaudia shook her head. "This's ridiculous." She gave a false laugh. "Listen, Harald's itching for breakfast. You feed him, then come back here and take me out. I need milk anyway, more smokes too."

Sigrun didn't move. "Don't lie to me, not about this. If you want to trick yourself about Marek, about your son," she quickly added, "go right ahead. But don't try to sweep this under the rug." Sigrun approached Klaudia, tracing around the woman's weary eyes. "Do you think this is all life's about, living alone with just me for company?" Sigrun gave a small smile. "I know I'm fairly exciting, but there's much more out there." She gestured to the window. "If you play your cards right, you might finagle an invite to America, or if nothing else one hell of a correspondence, in Polish no less. You've paid your dues Klaudia, here and with your son. You named Marek for that man, what does that mean?"

"It means nothing," Klaudia whispered, fighting tears. "Listen, go home, I'm not hungry."

"I'm not going anywhere, but you could. Give me that letter. I bet he said much more than you're telling me."

"I burned it."

Sigrun clasped her hand over her mouth. Then she wagged her finger at Klaudia. "You didn't!"

"What he said's irrelevant. My son just had a seizure and it won't be the last. I'm stuck here and Marek, he, he...." Klaudia walked to the table, lighting a cigarette. She smoked for a minute, then turned around, facing Sigrun. "He's the dream of a fourteen-year-old girl who died alongside him. Who we were then is long gone, I don't care if he's alive and living on Mars. He might as well be," she snorted, taking another hit from the smoke. "I'm not that girl and he's, he's.... He's a Lutheran pastor for God's sake!" Klaudia laughed loudly. "Can you imagine me and a reverend, now that's some joke." She tossed back her head, blonde hair flying. "I don't even believe in God, how in the world could I possibly...."

Sigrun stepped toward Klaudia, taking her cigarette and placing it on the edge of the sink. Then she grasped Klaudia's hands. "I believe you still love him. Why don't you think you deserve to be happy?"

Klaudia trembled, shaking her head. "I told you, you know why."

"That has nothing to do with this. You were just a...."

"We were the same age. He survived, all the rest are...."

Not wishing to hear anymore, Sigrun pulled Klaudia close, muffling her words. Those words turned to tears as Klaudia's smoke burned to ash along the sink's edge.

Dr. Sellers had smoked several cigarettes that day, but not during his session with Seth. For the last few days, Seth Gordon had altered drastically, although the psychiatrist wasn't sure how much of Seth's reemergence had to do with shock therapy, Thorazine, or the hawk, which had become a permanent fixture in the sealed-off courtyard just outside Seth's window. If there had been a way to reach that small patio, the doctor would have allowed Seth to explore it, but it was inaccessible except to whatever creatures managed to fly or creep out there. The hawk was one such animal, and it flew in and out as Seth's doctor visited his patient, who seemed to have made a decision regarding his treatment. Seth had begun speaking about that bird to staff who had wondered if this man would ever talk again.

As Edwin Sellers tapped on Seth's door, he didn't expect any greeting, nor as he entered the room did he receive one. Seth was seated near the window and as Dr. Sellers approached, Seth met his gaze with what could be called a smile. Dr. Sellers grinned, but felt a little sick inside for how this man appeared; his head had again been shaved, he wore no shoes, and his clothes were far too large for him. Just days ago, when Seth was still unresponsive, this attire seemed perfectly acceptable. Now the doctor felt he was looking at the man he'd admitted back in July, who had disappeared in a manner that sometimes occurred. Occasionally patients arrived in a relatively stable condition, then slipped further into psychosis. The remedies were introduced as needed and Seth had required some of the most drastic. Dr. Sellers didn't like using electric shocks; he preferred chemical therapies, and Thorazine was a miracle drug. But Thorazine alone hadn't provided Seth any relief, and coupled with shock treatments, the results had still been less than what Dr. Sellers had hoped. Yet this bird, hopping around outside Seth's window, had changed the equation. Edwin hadn't shared this fact aloud, but he'd detailed his findings in Seth's notes. And he knew Laurie Abrams had seen a change, although Seth's cousin hadn't visited for a couple of days. "So Seth," the doctor said brightly. "How are you feeling today?"

Seth gave another small smile. "Better. How are you?"

The doctor nodded, then gazed at the hawk. "I'm quite well. I see your friend is back. How is he today?"

"He's fine." Seth peered out the window. "He isn't going anywhere."

Dr. Sellers pulled up a chair and sat down. "Do you know where he's from?"

"Out west." Seth gazed at the doctor. "I'm not sure which state though."

"Well, hawks are prevalent all over the country, so he could be from anywhere."

Seth nodded, then traced the scars on his arms, which had healed. "Did you see Laurie today?"

"I haven't seen him for a few days. Did you two have a disagreement?"

Seth smirked, then sat on his hands. Then he clasped them in his lap. "Sort of. He didn't like what I said about the hawk, I think I scared him off."

"What did you tell him?"

Seth sighed, then stood, standing very close to the window. Dr. Sellers winced, for this man seemed to have made a massive recovery in such a short time, yet was still so fragile. However, in front of the doctor no longer stood someone helpless. Only a few times had Edwin noted such an immediate transformation, but modern advances had paved the way for such healing. Then he paid careful attention to his patient, who seemed to be talking to the hawk. Seth's voice wasn't more than a mumble, but he wasn't making conversation with his doctor. Then he looked at Edwin. "What I'm gonna tell you," Seth began, "will sound shocking. And it'll probably impede my immediate release. And maybe I'll go back on these words, then you'll let me go home. But I can't lie to you Dr. Sellers, just like I couldn't keep lying to Laurie. I told him the truth and it pissed him off, that's why he hasn't been around."

The doctor nodded, taking in some positive signs; Seth's bearing was forthright, but tinged with the awareness of his limitations. Most importantly, he wanted to be released, although that was hedged by a caveat. "Seth, I want you to be discharged, nothing better would please me. Tell me what's on your mind. Everything is relevant."

Seth smiled widely. Then he gazed outside the window, nodding. He faced the doctor again. "That hawk isn't merely a bird. It's a man. His name is Eric."

Dr. Sellers had heard more fanciful tales, so this didn't alarm him. "And how do you know Eric? Was he in Korea?"

"No." Seth shook his head as if for added emphasis. "He's an artist out west. Laurie's boyfriend represents him. I've never been introduced to him but...." Then Seth laughed. "Actually Laurie made the introductions a few days ago when I told him that was Eric." Then Seth sighed. "It's gonna take some doing to convince him, I'm not sure how that's gonna happen."

"How did Eric get here?" Dr. Sellers needed no persuading, but he did wonder if this Eric wasn't actually one of Seth's friends from the war.

"He flew here, for me." Seth sat down, then sighed heavily. "He left his wife, she's expecting their second child in the coming year. He left his family to help me, but I didn't want him to, I never thought...."

He paused, then stood, gripping his upper arms. "I've known that he turns into a hawk for a while now, not that I know why. Before I came here, Laurie brought it up, that Eric knew I'd tried to kill myself again. It's not just Laurie you know, I've hurt so many...."

Then Seth cleared his throat. "I took a big gamble, but he changed into a hawk and flew all the way out here, and I didn't wanna deal with that. Especially not after Laurie said his wife was having another baby. But then, then...." Seth knelt in front of the doctor. "Can you imagine what it means to have someone do something so selfless, so beautiful, taking themselves from all who love them just to come here to help? Laurie's done it all our lives, but this time he couldn't carry it alone. Not that it was Eric's responsibility, but...." Seth gripped the doctor's hands. "He's a Christian and I'm...." Seth smiled. "You see the correlation there, don't you?"

Dr. Sellers nodded. "Indeed. Do you find comfort in that?"

"Yeah, it's funny, but I do." Seth stood, brushing dust from his knees. "But it's not only that. Eric couldn't go to Korea, his foot was damaged. And I knew that years ago, although I don't know how. Anyway, he's been telling me about the blue barn. A couple of years ago he painted a picture of a barn and as soon as I saw it, oh my God." Seth took a deep breath. "Everyone's in it, everyone who...." He gazed at the courtyard, then muttered under his breath. Then he looked at the doctor. "It's full of people, some of who I killed. I shot so many people Dr. Sellers, maybe you should never let me outta here."

"That was during combat Seth."

"What's the difference? It's still murder."

Dr. Sellers breathed evenly, but his heart pounded. "War is an ugly fact of life. If not for conflict, you and I might not be standing here today."

Seth nodded, then sat, facing the doctor. "I know that, I do. But I also know why I went over there. Maybe that's not nearly as crazy as what I'm telling you about Eric, or maybe it's the same level of insanity. What do you think?"

Wishing for a cigarette, Edwin Sellers took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I think we have much to discuss and I'm so relieved you feel able to talk about these issues."

Seth laughed. "I agree, on both points. And if one day I tell you that the hawk is just a bird, will you believe me?"

Now Dr. Sellers chuckled. "Perhaps. It depends on what else you've had to say."

"Fair enough." Seth sat back, then tugged at his clothes. "Do you have these in a smaller size?"

The doctor nodded. "I can find you more appropriate attire. I also think you won't need any more shock treatments."

"Not even with what I've told you today?"

Dr. Sellers stood, shaking his head. "This is the tip of the iceberg, I'd like to assume. And who knows, maybe you're right about Eric." The doctor gazed out the window, finding that bird poking at its right wing. Then it stared at the doctor. Edwin Sellers shivered, then moved from the window, patting Seth's shoulder. "I'm going to make some notes, then I'll stop in later with new clothes. If you feel like talking, we can do that too."

Seth nodded. "Dr. Sellers, I just wanna get better so Eric can leave, then I can too." Seth laughed. "That might be the most alarming thing I've said today."

"Perhaps. But it's also the best thing. I'll be back in a bit. And I look forward to hearing about this painter. A barn, you say?"

"It's the most amazing barn you'll ever see in your life. If his paintings ever come to Miami, you have to see them. Eric Snyder is his name."

"I'll write that down as well. All right, I'll return after while." The doctor headed to the door, unlocking it with his key. "Seth, it's good to see you so animated."

Seth nodded, then gazed back out the window. As the doctor left the room, he heard Seth speaking. Quickly Edwin returned to his office and began writing notes. Only after he'd filled two pieces of paper did he stop for a cigarette, smoking it slowly, making a few corrections within Seth's file along the way.
Chapter 134

Laurie wrote to Stanford, but didn't mention Seth's latest tumble into insanity, how Laurie thought of what Seth had revealed concerning the hawk. Laurie also corresponded with Lynne, and yet with her, he nearly brought up what now Seth harped on every time Laurie visited. Laurie had reduced his visits, which he explained to Sheila and Mickey was due to the lack of progress Seth was making. Yet, Dr. Sellers thought Seth had achieved a significant breakthrough; now this previously subdued patient had plenty to say, mostly about one of Eric's paintings, that of a structure filled with all those who had been killed in.... There Seth stopped speaking, but Dr. Sellers had a good idea of who waited in the blue barn.

That barn dominated Seth's conversations with the doctor, but when Laurie visited, now Seth only wanted to convince his cousin that the hawk was indeed Eric Snyder. If Seth had wished to talk about any other subject, Laurie would be ecstatic, calling his aunt and mother with favorable news. Dr. Sellers had notified Wilma that shock treatments were no longer necessary. Seth was still receiving Thorazine, but the dosage had been reduced. Seth's mother hadn't inquired about more than when her son might be released and while Dr. Sellers hadn't given a timetable, his mood was far more positive than a month ago. To the doctor, a miracle of sorts had occurred, which was tied into the hawk. That Seth happened to think that creature was a human being was irrelevant. As long as Seth kept up his end of the dialog, Dr. Sellers had an opening into his patient's psyche.

Nearing the end of September, Laurie had decided to go home. His visits with Seth had turned into nothing more than shouting matches, or Laurie raising his voice. Seth still insisted that the hawk was Eric, and while Laurie had no idea where Eric actually was, he was tired of fighting a losing battle. Stanford was beginning to show signs of again slipping into depression, for neither man knew where Eric had gone, and how many times had Laurie almost called Lynne, asking that very question. Yet, she had plenty on her plate, and not only Jane and pregnancy. The Aherns were in the process of adopting a child, which Laurie thought was wonderful. He ached to go west to offer Lynne his help, even if she never hinted that her husband was missing. But Laurie needed to fly north. Agatha had called the Goldsmiths, first talking to Sheila, finally reaching Laurie. Stanford was working far too many hours, coming home often after Agatha had left for the day. He was thin, nervous, and in her tender tone, required more than her companionship. Laurie completely agreed. He made a reservation to fly to New York on Friday the twenty-seventh. He had been in Florida coming on four months, and other than a good suntan had little to show for all that time away.

He still parked in the back of the lot, but far from where that hawk had bullied him into staying. Killing the engine, Laurie gazed to the far side of the lot where that damned bird had practically assaulted him. Laurie got out of the car, pocketing Sheila's keys. He hadn't been to see Seth since the end of last week, and now on Tuesday Laurie felt this would be his last trip to Kerr Mental Hospital. Slowly he walked toward the building, stepping around stones that before he would have kicked with force. Yes, Seth was animated. But what was the point of speaking with someone whose grip on reality was almost negligible?

Laurie gave his name to the receptionist, then quietly said Seth's name. His tongue felt bruised, then Laurie straightened his shoulders, walking along the corridor. He stopped at the restroom, relieved himself, then washed his hands. Approaching Seth's door, Laurie swallowed hard. Suddenly the finality of this visit hit him. He glanced back down the hallway, wishing one of Eric's paintings hung here. Laurie had admired the two in Minnesota, then was curious if perhaps Eric was staring at those canvases, wondering if he would ever see his wife and children again. Laurie wiped away a solitary tear. Once he was home and had assessed Stanford's mental health, Laurie would investigate Eric's absence. Then Laurie shook his head, slowly turning the doorknob in front of him.

He swung open the door, seeing Seth on the far side of the room, seated facing the window. Seth met Laurie's gaze, a smile on Seth's face. Laurie didn't grin back, closing the door firmly behind him. "Hi," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm good." Seth continued to smile, glancing at the window, then at Laurie. Then he stood, and Laurie wanted to gasp. Seth wore jeans, although not with a belt, and a white t-shirt. Seth's previous attire had been standard hospital fare, pajama-type pants and blousy shirts that were several sizes too large. Laurie's heart throbbed; if not for Seth's ridiculous claims about the hawk, he appeared as well as Laurie had seen him in.... He looked like the man with whom Laurie had attended last fall's exhibit in New York, the man Stan claimed to have seen in that packed gallery, where once again Seth had admired the blue barn. His eyes were the most stunning markers, for to Laurie the blue of Seth's irises was as rich as.... Laurie looked at the floor, seeing Seth's feet clad in sneakers. Patients usually went barefoot, but this man didn't look at all like he needed to be locked away.

He needed to be set in front of damp clay. He needed to be among family who loved him, he needed.... He required years of therapy because again he called the hawk Eric. "We've been waiting for you," Seth said. "Eric has something to show you."

"Oh for God's sake." Laurie sat on the mattress, for his legs wobbled. "Listen, I came to tell you...." Laurie cleared his throat. "I'm going home on Friday. Stan needs me."

"What's wrong with Stanford?" Seth stepped to where Laurie sat. "Is he all right?"

Conflicting emotions teemed within Laurie; he wanted to slap this man, then hug him so tightly all this nonsense about Eric would fall away. Then Laurie would make another reservation, taking Seth where this hawk would never find him. They wouldn't speak of this again; Laurie would make Seth swear to it as if they were kids playing games. Laurie trembled as Seth placed his hand upon Laurie's shoulder. Seth squeezed gently, like their roles had been swapped. But Laurie's sanity wasn't in question. He took a deep breath, wanting to push away Seth's hand, wishing to knock his cousin into the middle of next week, where Laurie wanted to be, far from Florida and birds of prey and.... "Stanford's worried sick about Eric." Laurie removed Seth's hand, but not with force. Then Laurie sighed. "After I make sure he's okay, I'm gonna call Sam. There's gotta be a reason why he hasn't been in contact with Stan and...."

Seth's deliberate smile made Laurie sick to his stomach. "Sam knows where Eric is. He'll tell you the same as I've been, then maybe you'll believe me, well, unless you don't come see what Eric left for you." Seth faced the window, then met Laurie's gaze. "He wasn't sure if you were coming back. I knew you would, but he wasn't as certain. Laurie, come see."

"What in the hell are you talking about? Sam has no idea, well, maybe...." If Eric had checked himself into an institution, the Aherns would know. But why not tell Stanford? It wasn't a crime, unless Eric thought it might affect the European tour. Still, Laurie mused, trying not to look across the room, perhaps Eric didn't want Stan or Laurie to worry about him, not with Seth so.... Having pulled up the chair, Seth now sat across from Laurie. He tried to grasp Laurie's hands, but Laurie tucked them into his armpits. Seth laughed, then leaned back in his seat. He didn't speak, merely staring at Laurie with the oddest smile on his face.

"What?" Laurie was angry, but equally troubling was a nagging at the back of his brain. Stanford's voice resonated, yet the words weren't clear.

"I didn't want him here, not when he should be at home with Lynne and their daughter. Jane, right?"

"Yes, Jane." Laurie's tone was clipped. "He's not here Seth, just stop this crap."

"It does seem pretty ridiculous, doesn't it? Like what I see in the barn. You didn't think I was so crazy when I told you what I saw in there, did you?" Seth looked to the window. "But I didn't know how he'd painted it, I didn't understand what'd happened to him." Seth faced Laurie. "But now, oh my God, it's like I can hear him, maybe because he's so close, maybe because of how many times I went to see that painting. Maybe because of you. You were the only one who, who...." Seth paused, then quickly reached for Laurie's hands, squeezing hard. "You were the only one who could walk alongside me. It wasn't for Mom to do, but you did it, you volunteered, and I'm sorry I hurt you for so long. I'm sorry for a lot of things." Seth released Laurie's hands, then stared at his own. "Dr. Sellers and I have plenty left to talk about. I killed Koreans Laurie, lots of them." He faced the window. "I killed them because what'd it matter? Millions and millions died over there, Jews and Gypsies and Poles and men like you." Seth stared at his cousin. "You're the most wonderful man I know and they killed men just like you. And so did I. I killed them over and over again."

Seth stood, then knelt beside his cousin, wiping tears from Laurie's cheeks. "Do you know why Eric painted that barn?"

Laurie shook his head, wanting to howl. Instead he bit his lip, then tasted blood. "No," he mumbled.

"We had a long talk about it because I always thought if I knew why, then I'd know why I did what I did. I realized who Eric really was after Minnesota. All those hawks, my God, all those hawks." Seth spoke softly, stroking Laurie's hand. "He was all those hawks and I knew that, but it didn't make sense until...." Seth's voice cracked. "Until I got home last year. When I saw the barn in November, then it was like Jesus Christ, how did I miss it? I sculpted his foot half my life ago, and don't tell me I didn't." Seth stood, but his bearing was shaky. He sat, placing his hands on Laurie's knees. "We've never talked about that, but it's the truth. So how Laurie, how did I do that?"

"I have no fucking idea," Laurie smirked. Then he met Seth's gaze. "You seem to have all the answers, you tell me."

"Oh Laurie, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be...." Seth slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just come to the window. Then you'll know."

Laurie cleared his throat. "Tell you what. You just stay here. Stan's falling apart and I need to go home." Laurie stood, then stared at the door. Maybe ten minutes had passed, no one would knock for another ten. He was stuck, but while the time would probably pass slowly, he needed to take note of it. Ten more minutes was all he had left to give this man.

Seth stood, standing beside his cousin. "I love you. I wouldn't be here today if you hadn't stuck your neck out for me time and again. All I'm asking is for you to look. You wanted me to look at that hawk, you said it yourself, how much it was like looking at one of Eric's paintings. He is all those hawks Laurie, I swear to you. He really, really is."

Laurie gripped Seth by his shoulders. "Do you hear what you're saying? They'll never release you with that bullshit running outta your mouth!"

Seth nodded. "I told Dr. Sellers that one day I might have to tell him differently so I could go home."

Laurie backed away, then threw up his hands. "This's exactly what I mean! Jesus Christ." Laurie stepped to the door. He wanted to turn the handle, maybe it hadn't locked behind him. He ached all over as if every word Seth spoke was a knife. This wasn't fair, not for all the time Laurie had spent away from home, far from Stanford, who needed him. "Eric's gone and I have to find out where before Stan loses it." Laurie turned around, glaring at his cousin. "I've lost you, shit, you've been gone since...."

"Since I enlisted, I know. It's been a long time and while I'll never get those days back, and I can't give them back to any of you...."

"No Seth." Laurie marched to where Seth stood, leaving less than a foot between them. "You've been gone since we were sitting listening to the...."

"Radio, until Mom and Aunt Rose made us go outside."

Laurie's lip trembled and it was sore from where he'd bitten it. "This's wasting my time." He turned back for the door. "Good luck Seth. Good luck and...."

A screech made Laurie stoop as if the hawk had found its way into the room. Laurie turned around, scanning the space, then an ear-splitting caw emerged, which nearly sounded guttural coming from the animal's throat. Laurie wanted to cover his ears, but he had to face this, this.... He was starting to understand how tenuous was one's grip on reality, for he'd allowed himself to be bullied by that goddamn bird. "All right, all right." He walked to the window, then pointed at it. "You tell me what's waiting out there for me."

"You have to look Laurie. It's what I never wanted to do, but I had to, he made me."

Laurie wanted to ask who. Instead he shook his head, then stole a brief glance at the courtyard. Then he gazed at Seth. "There's nothing out there."

"You didn't look Laurie," Seth smiled. "You have to really look."

"Look at what?"

"The truth." Seth stared out the window. "It's been there the whole time, I just didn't wanna see it. I felt I couldn't, not with all I'd done. Laurie, I can't tell you how much I regret that, maybe all these years have been my punishment. They couldn't lock me up for enlisting, but I sure as hell built one fine prison."

"Seth, please, stop this."

"I can't Laurie. Just look at the cement."

Laurie sighed wearily. He gazed out, finding rocks on the ground, carefully arranged. He blinked several times while a chill overtook him, making his flesh crawl. "Oh my God, no fucking way." Yet his voice wasn't more than a whisper, for to acknowledge what sat plainly on the cement would be to succumb to a madness more harmful than anything Seth had suffered.

Then Laurie looked at Seth. "How'd you get out there, who'd you pay to write that?"

"No one. Laurie, I didn't do it, Eric did."

"Eric is not a goddamn hawk!" Laurie trembled in anger, also in great fear. "Seth, for the love of God, tell me who did that!"

Seth pointed to where the hawk sat, using its beak to poke at its right wing. "I told you; Eric Snyder is that hawk. He wrote that message, you can ask Dr. Sellers. He saw him gathering the stones, but Eric waited until he left to form the words. But he'll tell you, Dr. Sellers will. It was the hawk who was moving them. No one ever goes out there, there's no door to that space. That's why it's just concrete; whoever designed this place didn't think about making it accessible, or not for people. Eric wrote that note Laurie. And I think you should do what it says."

Laurie peered again at what was written on the ground: Call Lynne. Then he bent over, gripping his knees with his hands, trying to breathe. Seth stood beside him, rubbing his back. "Just call her, tell her he's here. She knows, but has no idea you know. She'll tell you, I can't believe that he'd want to you call her unless she'd confirm it."

"Stop it Seth, just...."

"I love you Laurie. I don't wanna hurt you, I didn't want him here, leaving her alone. But he came all this way to help me and...."

Laurie stood, similar words ringing in his head. Stanford had said the same; why had Eric once again left Lynne? It had been the first thing Seth noted after Laurie told him that Lynne was again expecting, that Eric needed to go home, he needed to be with his family. Laurie glanced out the window, finding the hawk tapping its foot at the end of the message. Then that bird nodded its head, just like it had when Laurie tried to leave the parking lot. "This's crazy," he said.

"It's not exactly explainable, but neither is why you're still here."

Laurie glared at Seth. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why are you here Laurie?"

"Because I, I, I love you."

"But why?"

"I, I dunno." Then Laurie shook his head. "Because you're my cousin, because we grew up together, because...."

"Because you're the only one who could get me this far." Seth set his hand over Laurie's heart. "Because you see what others can't, like Eric. But it's not because you turn into a bird, but who you love, and I don't mean just me." Seth smiled, then gripped Laurie's hands within his own. "You followed your heart and you didn't care if our mothers or sisters gave a shit. Uncle Aaron might've been unhappy, but you and Stanford looked the other way. You've always been able to see what others can't, you saw what I could do, you've seen it all these years. I owe you my life Laurie, I owe you so much. And I am so, so sorry it's taken this long, so much time wasted. And it's not over, I know that." Seth stared at the scars on his arms, then wiped tears from both of their faces. "The last couple of weeks I've thought about suicide because maybe it's what I deserve for all the lives I stole. Maybe I shouldn't be alive Laurie, but Eric flew all the way here to, to...." Seth smiled. "Save my life. We've never met, not properly, but he left his pregnant wife and their baby just to help me. And you've been here for months, you've never abandoned me. You told me you'd be the first to go and God, how I hated you for saying that. But I loved you too, I love you so much. Go call Lynne, then come back here. I'm not going anywhere, neither's Eric. He told me he'd be here as long as I need, and it's gonna take time." Again Seth gazed at his inner forearms. "Sometimes I don't know why I'm even breathing. But then sometimes I know exactly why, because I'm not done yet. There's still something for me to do, something good. I have to get well Laurie because there's still something I need to do."

Laurie sniffled, then shook his head. "What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Just ask her where Eric is. You've written about the hawk, and if you push the envelope, I can't imagine she'd lie to you. Maybe to Stanford," Seth smiled. "But not to you."

The hawk made a soft cry, sounding like an appeal. Laurie looked out the window, finding that bird in the same spot. But he didn't tap his foot. Now his wings were crossed over the front of his body, and his gaze made Laurie shake. "She'll think I'm crazy."

"Just say that you know Eric's gone, and ask where he is. Maybe it's a code they set up in case this happened. Or maybe like I said, Lynne knows you'd understand. Call her Laurie, I dare you to prove me wrong."

Swiftly Laurie turned to face Seth. But instead of reproaching him, he only sighed. Then a knock made both men jump as the door was opened. Dr. Sellers entered the room, a small smile on his face. "Mr. Abrams, are you ready?"

Seth gripped Laurie's hand. "He needs to make a long distance call. Can you arrange that?"

The doctor nodded. "I'll personally see to the charges."

Laurie sighed, then nodded. "I'll call her, but what about...." He stared out the window. The hawk was moving stones to the corners of the courtyard. It didn't look in Laurie's direction, busy with its task.

Seth released Laurie's hand, then sat in the chair. Laurie walked to where the doctor waited, then followed him out of the room.

Ten minutes later, Laurie headed back down the hallway. His steps were slow, but his pulse raced. He went into the restroom, but couldn't urinate. He did wash his hands, then splashed water on his face, drying it with the roller towel. He had told Dr. Sellers he only needed a few minutes with Seth. Then Laurie had errands to attend.

When he reached Seth's door, he hesitated. Then he turned the knob, swinging the door wide. Seth was lying in bed, reading a book. He smiled at Laurie, setting down the novel. "Well?" he asked. "Was she home?"

Laurie nodded, but his mouth was so dry, he couldn't imagine speaking. He stepped to the foot of Seth's bed, then smoothed the already flat comforter. Then he sat down.

Seth scooted to where Laurie waited. "Did she tell you?"

"Yeah." Laurie coughed, then took a breath. "She said she was glad I'd seen him."

Seth gingerly patted Laurie's hand. "Did she say anything else?"

"Just that she was relieved you were better. And to...." Now Laurie coughed hard. "To tell him she loves him. I'm supposed to tell Eric Lynne loves him and that she, Jane, and the baby are fine."

Seth gazed toward the window. "He moved all the rocks back. Not sure if he's still out there. Sometimes he flies off and...."

Laurie stood, then headed for the window. The hawk was indeed waiting, poking at its right wing. How many times had Laurie joked with Eric that something special rested in his right arm. Lynne hadn't wasted Laurie's time; as soon as he had asked, prefaced only by Laurie noting that both he and Stanford were aware Eric was gone, Lynne volunteered that Eric had flown to Miami to see Seth. Had she used that particular verb unwittingly or.... But to make sure Laurie understood, Lynne added that Eric had been turning into a hawk since childhood. That he had last made the transformation nearly two years ago when his father died. And that she prayed Seth was benefitting from Eric's presence, and she hoped Laurie would understand. She hadn't expounded upon that last sentence, maybe there wasn't enough time in the world for her to explain. Yet Laurie needed one question answered before he left that afternoon, although he would return tomorrow. And on Thursday, but as for Friday.... He wasn't sure if he could fly straight home. A trip west might be necessary first. But as soon as he reached the Goldsmiths' house, Laurie would call Stanford. He'd decided to tell him that Eric had admitted himself into an institution. It was partly true, and while Stan wouldn't be pleased, at least he would sleep without worrying that Lynne and Jane had no idea where Eric was.

But first Laurie turned around, staring at Seth. "Why'd he paint the barn?"

Seth sighed. "He got into a fight with a falcon. He'd been looking for his father and on the way home a falcon went after him. He didn't kill it," Seth said softly. "But he wounded it, and when he got home, he had scratches on his legs that Lynne had to bandage."

Laurie peered at the hawk, who seemed to be nodding. Then Laurie gazed at Seth. "How do you know all this? Does he talk to you or...."

"How did you know you loved Stanford? How did I know to sculpt that man with a deformed foot, how did I even know Eric was a hawk to begin with? I have no idea, except that when he talks, I can understand him." Then Seth inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. "How did Norah know to show me her tattoo?"

"What?"

Seth approached Laurie, tenderly stroking his cousin's upper left arm. "She asked if I was a sculptor, said she wanted to help me. She didn't know what I'd done in Korea, which wasn't any different than what was done to all those she was imprisoned with. Maybe I killed a woman like her over there, I probably did. I killed a lot of human beings Laurie, people just as precious as every Jew who died, every Gypsy, every homosexual. Every Russian and Briton and Frenchman and German and Italian and American. They're all dead, and I added to that number, I'm no better than the men who dropped cyanide into the gas chambers. But for some reason, I'm forgiven. I don't know why or how, but I have been. Norah forgave me, Eric did too. I need you to forgive me Laurie for hurting you, for keeping you from Stanford, for making you look out the window. Please Laurie, tell me you forgive me."

Tears poured down Seth's face and Laurie pulled him close, gripping him tightly. Laurie also wept, which precluded speech, but he hoped Seth understood. He must, for he howled, but the sound wasn't painful. It was like clear running water drenching parched ground, seeping deeply into ragged cracks far into the earth. When Laurie felt words were possible, he set his lips near Seth's ear. "I love you, I will always love you. I forgive you Seth, it's all over now."

Seth continued to cry and Laurie nodded, for it was far from over. But something had altered, not only the identity of one random bird of prey. Laurie continued to clutch Seth, gazing to the courtyard. The hawk was gone, but Laurie didn't think Eric was heading home. Laurie would see Lynne well before her husband returned.
Chapter 135

That evening Stanford slept well, even if Eric was spending another night in a hospital similar to where Seth dwelled. Stanford hadn't liked hearing that news, but was he relieved that Laurie had changed his travel plans. He was still coming home, but first he would visit Lynne. When Stanford woke the next morning, he called the Goldsmiths. Sheila answered, then quickly passed the receiver to Laurie. The men chatted only for moments, but Stanford had felt it necessary to tell Laurie that he loved him, and thank him again for discerning Eric's whereabouts. Laurie sounded tired, but said he would see Stan early next week. Stanford closed the call with a grateful sigh, also glad that Laurie hadn't felt compelled to mention that hawk. Something about that bird grated on Stanford, but soon enough it would be a footnote in all their lives.

Having slept on all these revelations, Laurie felt uneasy. His conversation with Lynne yesterday had confirmed everything Seth had claimed, and while Laurie felt little hesitancy about visiting his cousin later that day, now he wondered if traveling west was necessary. Laurie ate breakfast, then showered, still surprised by his abbreviated haircut. He hadn't gone as far as Seth, but the barber Sheila had recommended, the same Mickey used, had given Laurie a severe style. Staring into the mirror, Laurie made a face. Stan would probably love it, it might make his balding pate less noticeable. Would Jane still recognize him, Laurie wondered. Then he closed his eyes, his heart aching. He had to see Lynne, he needed that contact. Their conversations would be terribly awkward, maybe they wouldn't speak much. He assumed she was showing, maybe he would feel the baby move. Laurie opened his eyes, took a deep breath, then reached for his shaver. When he stepped from the bathroom, Sheila passed by. "That new haircut suits you," she smiled. Then she continued along the hall, humming as she went.

In his room Laurie put on socks and shoes, then gazed at the space. He'd spent most of summer here, and while it wasn't cool yet, in New York autumn had begun. The weather where Lynne and Eric.... Eric was here for the duration, but what did that mean? Then Laurie shuddered. Lynne had explicitly said Eric's last transformation was two years ago when his father died. What about that long stretch in 1961, when Laurie first met Lynne? Eric had been away for months, and Laurie's stomach ached. His brain teemed with bizarre queries, inhuman in nature, but for the Snyders, all their lives had been spent with this unholy.... Then Laurie considered what Seth had said yesterday, that he'd sculpted Eric's damaged foot, that Norah had revealed her tattoo, that Laurie had fallen in love with.... Just how crazy was it that Eric turned into a hawk compared to other concrete facts. Then Laurie shivered. Seth had likened himself to some of the most depraved participants of Nazi Germany. Maybe accepting Eric as a bird of prey wouldn't be that large of a hurdle when equated with what Seth still needed to face.

But Laurie had to go, for that was a place so dark and.... Was it right for Eric to stay, then Laurie shook his head. Maybe yesterday had been some awful hallucination. But what was worse, to find his cousin in a drugged stupor or Eric as a.... Laurie sighed, then stood from the mattress. He stepped from his room, asked to borrow the car, then hugged his aunt. Sheila walked him outside, remaining on the driveway as he backed out. He watched her through the rear-view mirror, as if he was never returning.

Laurie didn't park in the back of the hospital lot; he pulled into an open front space, walking quickly to the entrance. He gave his and Seth's names, then headed down the corridor. He didn't stop at the restroom, but saw Dr. Sellers stepping from Seth's room. "How is he?" Laurie asked.

"Pretty well." The doctor smiled. "He's talking to the hawk at the moment. But I've been with him for nearly an hour. I hear you're leaving soon."

"Day after tomorrow." Laurie sighed. "Do you have any idea how long he'll need to stay?"

Dr. Sellers motioned for them to step aside. Then he cleared his throat. "While I can't give a definitive timetable, I'd like to think that perhaps Seth could be discharged before the end of the year. Of course, he'll need to continue therapy, I don't see any quick end to that element of treatment. But only a few of my patients have emerged from such paralyzing psychosis at the rate your cousin is."

Laurie nodded. "Before it's taken him a long time to come home, and he's never been so unwell."

"He's never had a hawk involved in his treatment, I'd wager."

Laurie stared at the doctor, whose eyebrows had shot up as he'd said hawk. Then Laurie smiled. "Do you actually believe him?"

"Do you?"

Now Laurie chuckled. "If I said I did, would you find me a room here?"

"Mr. Abrams, I've heard plenty over the years and what I've seen isn't for the faint of heart. I spoke with Miss Wasserman right after Seth was admitted. Great evil exists, also tremendous good. My job is to heal ill men and women. If that task is made easier by permitting certain realities, as long as those realms do no harm, then I've succeeded. If you and Seth believe that hawk is also a painter, far worse has transpired. Millions followed Hitler. I'll let God be the ultimate judge."

Dr. Sellers patted Laurie's shoulder, then walked down the corridor. Laurie watched him turn a corner, then he headed to Seth's door.

As Laurie readied to leave, he knew a strange peace never before felt in any hospital where Seth had previously stayed. Laurie didn't want to assume this was the last one, but if nothing else, he didn't think he'd ever see this hawk again, for Seth had told him not to come tomorrow. He should spend that day with Sheila, or at least give her back her car.

Laurie looked around the room; it didn't appear much differently than the first time he had stepped inside, but the interior seemed cheerier. Then he gazed at Seth, who was dressed in regular attire. His hair was growing out, although Laurie's was longer, yet not by much. They had joked about that, then spoken about the barn. Laurie still felt it was for pigs and chickens. Seth had laughed, then looked at where the hawk stood in the courtyard. "He put all he ever was inside it, every single hawk he's ever been."

That statement resounded in Laurie's head as he approached where Seth stood near the window. Seth glanced his way, then returned to gazing outside. "When he leaves, I'll write you. That way you can tell Lynne when to expect him."

"I could give you their address, you could write her yourself."

Seth shook his head. "I want to meet her first." Then he faced Laurie. "Or do you think that's odd?"

"Hell if I know," Laurie laughed.

"You tell her," Seth smiled, then he sighed. "When are you gonna tell Stanford?"

"Tell him what?"

"Laurie...." Seth put his hands in his pockets. "You're not gonna be able to keep this from him. Plus it's not fair to let him think Eric's unstable."

Laurie stared at his cousin, then he grinned. His smile turned into a chortle, then into broad laughter. "Oh right. I'm just gonna mention that Eric never actually went crazy, he just turned into a...."

The screech was loud, making Seth chuckle, but Laurie shivered. He knew why Eric's vision was so keen, and his hearing seemed just as sharp. Yet, there was no imaginable way for Stanford to accept this, even if Dr. Sellers had eluded it wasn't out of the realm of impossibilities. Why was it so hard to permit mysterious notions when evil was readily grasped? Why had so many Germans blithely followed such a deranged individual, even to the point of collaborating in the mass extermination of.... Then Laurie stared at Seth, who spoke to Eric as though that man was standing among them. Seth had participated in a similar madness and Laurie inwardly trembled. He'd deliberately not considered Seth's role in Korea, but Seth wasn't walking out of this facility at Laurie's side. That part of Seth's recovery was between him, Dr. Sellers, and a bird of prey, who also happened to be one of the most warm, witty, and magnanimous persons Laurie had ever known. And so damned talented, just like....

"If you can get away with it, good luck." Seth smiled at Laurie. "But both Eric and I think you should tell him. He'll think you're nuts, but eventually he'll come round. Sam Ahern did, although for a long time he thought Lynne was, well...." Seth patted Laurie's shoulder. "If Sam could take it on board, Stanford can too."

Laurie nodded, but only for effect. Then he looked his cousin in the eyes. How had Seth and Sam managed to maintain a modicum of sanity? But as Dr. Sellers had said, who was he to judge? Laurie sighed. "We'll see how it goes. But hopefully it won't come to that."

Seth shrugged. "We'll see. Go on, you have lots to do before you go. Tell Aunt Sheila...." Seth pursed his lips, then smiled. "Don't tell her anything. If I don't see her until I get out, that's fine. But do say thanks for letting you use the car."

"I'll do that." Then Laurie stepped to the window. The hawk was pecking at the ground. "Lynne wants you to know she misses you, that Jane and the baby are fine. She says she can feel the baby, said Sam did yesterday. She said...." Lynne's wistful tone rang in Laurie's head. "She loves you and can't wait to see you."

The hawk stared at Laurie, then nodded. Then it launched into the air and although Laurie looked up, no trace of it remained.

"Sometimes he does that. I know this isn't easy on him, and sometimes I wonder how hard it'll be when he changes back. He said it's not simple, but Sam will take care of him and Marek will too."

Laurie faced Seth. "Marek Jagucki knows?"

Seth nodded. "There's so much to tell you. I'll write you about it all, but for now, go on. Eric and I need a little space."

Laurie shivered, then glanced out the window again. "Okay, sure. I have things to do."

The knock didn't surprise the men and Dr. Sellers stepped inside without words. Laurie glanced at him, then faced his cousin. "I love you. I...."

"I'll be good," Seth smiled. "And I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, soon," Laurie nodded. "Really soon, okay?"

"We'll do our best." Seth grinned, then embraced his cousin. Laurie closed his eyes, appreciating the strength of Seth's hug as well as the hope in his voice. The men stepped away from one another, smiling as they did so. Laurie joined where Dr. Sellers waited, then followed him from the room. As the door clicked, part of Laurie's heart throbbed. Seth remained behind that barrier. But he wouldn't face this trial alone.

That evening Laurie spoke to Lynne. She sounded eager to see him and Jane babbled in the background, making Laurie chuckle. From the airport he would take a taxi to their house, although Lynne said Sam had offered to collect him. Laurie didn't inquire about the Aherns' adoption plans, only noting he hoped to share at least one meal with them. Lynne promised that pie would be waiting, then told him to fly safely. Laurie closed the call with a mostly peaceful heart, but he was still slightly troubled by Seth's admonition. Out west Laurie could speak about Eric, even with that Polish pastor. But with the man he loved most, a lie would have to be told. No way on God's green earth could Laurie tell Stanford where Eric actually was.

Stan called half an hour later, just to confirm Laurie's flight times. Stan's tone was business-like, as if he worried that Sheila or Mickey might overhear. Yet Laurie deduced calm in Stan's voice, which again bothered Laurie. Stanford seemed oblivious to Laurie's concerns, and the conversation ended on an upbeat note. Then Laurie went to his room. Sheila was cooking, but he would take his aunt and uncle out tomorrow night. On Friday, Sheila would drive Laurie to the airport and that would conclude his tenure in Florida.

Laurie did some preliminary packing, placing items in the laundry basket that he would wash tomorrow. Then Sheila knocked on the door, informing him that supper was ready. Laurie joined his aunt and uncle in the dining room where jovial conversation was interspersed with moments of quiet. Sheila remarked that she would visit Seth next week, and that she'd keep in touch with Laurie, as well as with Wilma and Rose. Mickey didn't make any similar overtures, but Laurie wasn't troubled. After the meal was finished, Sheila refused Laurie's assistance to help clean up, but Laurie wasn't comfortable going into the living room to watch television with his uncle. There wasn't much for him to do, so he announced he was leaving for a walk. Mickey nodded while Sheila told him to take his time.

Laurie ambled along the sidewalk, occasionally peering up at the setting sun. Orange and pink blended with yellow, which reminded him of Eric's paintings. So much about that man now made sense, if one permitted miracles as reality. But why not? Was it so implausible to think a man turned into a....

A small smile emerged, Laurie couldn't help it. Perhaps after speaking with Lynne, the Aherns, even that pastor, he might embrace such a marvel. Yet it was real, Eric was that hawk. Laurie knew it like he knew his name.

He would never tell Stan, nor could he share it with Agatha. Honestly, there was nobody on the East Coast to whom Laurie could reveal this phenomenon. He would get it out of his system, fly home, and.... He released an audible moan; he loathed thinking about lying to Stan. But what else could he do? The truth would.... Laurie shuddered, then whipped around. Had someone been following him? He gazed at an average neighborhood that while not quite like Brooklyn was full of similar people with their own hopes and failings. Laurie smiled, took a few more steps, then again stopped. Now he slowly turned around. Five feet away sat the hawk.

Laurie breathed smoothly, but his heart raced. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

The bird tapped its foot, then hopped off the sidewalk. It flew into the middle of the street, then faced the direction from where Laurie had started. It flew a little further, then paused, gazing at Laurie.

"Okay, sure, you lead the way." Laurie followed the hawk, who alternated between hopping and flight. They reached a playground, but no children were present, for now it was nearly dusk. Summer was over, even here in Miami, although Laurie wasn't cold. Yet something stirred goose bumps, and he ran his hands over his arms. The hawk then took a short flight to a sand pit, perching on a large log which acted as a barrier, although the ground was nearly as sandy as what filled the pit. Laurie sat on the log, but could see a message spelled out in the distance.

He stared at the hawk; he couldn't think of this bird as Eric, or not directly. Yet he knew that was the truth, regardless of how outlandish it could be. Perhaps the message was Eric's way of saying goodbye. Or maybe it was.... Laurie gazed in that direction, it looked like several words had been constructed. "How long did that take you?" he said softly.

The bird seemed to shrug and Laurie smiled. "I guess time has a different meaning when you're like this. This's why you were gone all those months in '61. This's why...." Then Laurie shivered. It was how Eric's foot had been healed, why Jane was conceived, why Seth might actually be on the road to recovery. It was some otherworldly event that defied explanation, but it wasn't bad, although Eric being far from his family wasn't what Laurie wished for. Yet, if Seth could find peace, if he could make some sort of life for himself, if he could sculpt again.... "Why you?" Laurie asked. "Why does this happen to you?"

The hawk hopped from the log, then flew to where the message waited. The bird remained there, tapping its foot, making Laurie shake his head. "Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming." He got up, hobbling a little, then chuckled at himself. "I'm not as young as I used to be, but then I guess this's the only place for you to have enough space to write...."

Laurie stopped in his tracks as the psalm hit his brain. He pondered its significance, then reread it, moving his lips as the meaning was permanently stitched upon his heart. Then he fell to his knees, supporting himself with his hands, which gripped sandy ground as stinging tears fell from his eyes. He inhaled sharply, then exhaled with force, as if Eric was indeed standing beside him, his melodious voice speaking what had been painstakingly pieced together, and what would soon be scattered across this playground, unless Eric left this message right where it was. Laurie started to nod. "Don't move a single piece of this," he warbled, trying to compose himself. But the emotions were too strong, and he began to wail, not from pain or fear, but the sweetest sense of peace. He continued to grab at the sand, for as that peace flowed through him, he realized it was for more than that moment. This tranquility had to be stored away, the calm before a storm. Laurie gazed at the hawk, who seemed able to read his mind. "Something's coming, isn't it? But you're telling me it's gonna be okay right, right?"

The hawk didn't flinch, merely glancing at the sky, which was now nearly dark. Laurie stared at the bird until his neck grew sore, then he sat on his haunches, using the backs of his hands to wipe his face, careful to not get sand in his eyes. He remained in that position until a leg cramp forced him to stand. Eric remained close, occasionally releasing a soft squawk, as if answering Laurie's query. But it wasn't so much a question as it was accepting Eric's current form and what waited on the horizon. As Eric led Laurie back to the Goldsmiths' house, a man inhaled that fragrant peace, not considering the purpose of its presence. And a hawk thought about his wife, daughter, and unborn baby, who he prayed to soon see again.
Chapter 136

A peach pie cooled on Lynne's kitchen counter as Jane squawked in her high chair. When Lynne was busy, she placed her daughter in that seat, aware that soon another baby would be using it. Lynne also considered buying a toddler bed for Jane, yet for now a mother employed all available aides. Lynne thought of herself as a single parent, although for a few days she would have an extra pair of hands. She eagerly awaited Laurie's arrival for a multitude of reasons.

As Jane squealed louder, another wee one made Lynne slightly nauseous. Quickly Lynne fixed peanut butter sandwiches. She gave one to Jane, then had a bite of the other, sitting as she did so. Jane grew quiet and Lynne relished the calm. It had been a hectic morning and Lynne hadn't had much time to ponder Laurie's arrival. As soon as lunch was over, a mother would put her child in the nursery for a rest. Laurie's flight wasn't due until one and the time it took the taxi to drop him off would give Lynne a chance to close her eyes, although she wouldn't go upstairs to sleep. She had told Laurie the kitchen door would be unlocked and to make himself comfortable if he happened to find her snoozing on the sofa.

He had chuckled at her statement, the only time during their recent telephone conversations Lynne had heard him exhibit any mirth. Yet, as Sam and Renee had agreed, Laurie's subdued mood was fully expected after what he had learned. Marek felt the same, but all were relieved he knew the truth, and that Seth was improving. Little was said about Lynne's spouse, but she knew that was for her benefit. Eric would remain in Florida until.... Lynne wouldn't press Laurie for an answer. The biggest blessing was that Eric's presence back east was helping, and now there was one fewer person to whom Lynne would have to lie. Then she sighed, taking the last bite of her sandwich. Laurie would be the bearer of falsehoods, although Lynne wished he could tell Stanford the truth.

Jane clapped her hands, then gazed at her mother. Lynne looked up, then smiled. "Maybe Daddy won't have to be gone much longer. Maybe he'll be home by...." As the baby kicked, Lynne caressed Jane's cheek. "He'll be home when it's time," Lynne said softly, placing her other hand on what tumbled within her. Then she laughed. "My goodness, Uncle Laurie isn't gonna know what hit him. Best that we all get some sleep so he's not too overwhelmed." Then Lynne shook her head. The last several months of Laurie's life had been so traumatic, and perhaps the past week had been the worst, even if Seth had turned a corner. Lynne closed her eyes, but not from fatigue. She prayed for Laurie, Seth, Stanford, and for Eric. Then she opened her eyes, finding Jane looking weary. Lynne smiled, then chuckled. A tired toddler hadn't been on her list, but God knew what a mother needed most.

Twenty minutes later Jane was asleep and Lynne was unconscious on the couch, dreaming she was walking through an orchard with Eric at her side. He spoke about painting Sam's portrait, working on the Queens' sketches, then he pulled her close, stroking Lynne's cheek. As leaves rustled on trees, Lynne's heart pounded, drowning out what Eric was trying to tell her. Then Lynne stirred, finding a smiling Laurie Abrams at her side.

"Hey there," he said. "Didn't mean to wake you. Well, maybe I did. Is Jane asleep?"

Lynne nodded, sitting up, making room for Laurie who sat beside her. Tears fell along her face, but not all were in sorrow. "Yeah she is. Oh Laurie, it's so good to see you!"

"Yeah, it's, it's...." Their embrace halted his voice. Lynne began to cry in earnest, trembling as Laurie did the same, for much was now known and plenty remained to be stated. Yet a physical release was required, reciprocal in nature. Lynne wouldn't have been so tactile with anyone but perhaps Renee, maybe Sam. Certainly not Stanford, and she began to giggle, pulling away from Laurie. But she didn't go far, tracing around his damp eyes, which were laced with a deep sadness. Yes, there was much they needed to say. But first Lynne had something vital to share with this man. Placing Laurie's hand on her belly, Lynne nodded her head. The baby moved as if on cue and Laurie's eyes grew wide. Then he laughed. "Oh my God, there is someone in there."

"There is. She moves all the time, especially if I'm toting big sister. But Jane just laughs, she thinks it's hilarious."

Laurie followed the baby's movements, then gripped Lynne's hands. "I wasn't sure if coming here first was good, I mean...." He sighed, then smiled, again squeezing Lynne's hands. "But God I'm so glad I did."

"I am too. Have you called Stanford yet?"

"No, just got here actually. I was gonna let you sleep...." He bit his lip, then smiled. "But to be honest, I wanted to wake you up. I wanted to...." Shyly he set one hand back on the baby. Then Laurie laughed. "This is so good, Jesus Christ, I can't begin to tell you."

"It is and I am so happy to see you." Lynne took a deep breath. As she let it out, Laurie removed his hand.

A moment of quiet fell over them, then Laurie cleared his throat. "I better call Stan." Laurie stood from the sofa, then looked around the room. Lynne wondered if he was hoping to find Eric, even if his whereabouts were now acknowledged. But maybe Laurie was simply taking in a new view of this house that would forever be how he accepted the Snyders. No longer was Eric merely an artist, but also a.... Laurie walked toward the kitchen, not speaking to Lynne, but that too was all right. Awkwardness would prevail for much of that day, Lynne allowed, maybe throughout all of Laurie's visit. It had taken Sam a good while to accept the truth, and as Lynne stood, she heard a lie being told, not so much in how Laurie greeted Stanford, but via the tone of Laurie's speech. Not wishing to eavesdrop, Lynne went upstairs. She checked that the guest room was ready, then used her bathroom. When she came downstairs, she found Laurie standing in the sunroom, gazing at the garden. He turned to face her and his smile was different. Lynne nodded, then walked to where he stood, grasping his hand. No words were spoken as both faced the windows, but Laurie occasionally offered a gentle squeeze, Lynne responding with a firm pressure of her own. This property would never look the same to Laurie, and Lynne would let him adjust at his own pace.

They stood in the sunroom a few more minutes, then Laurie left to freshen up. When he returned, he found Lynne in the kitchen making coffee. Laurie was grateful for the semblance of normalcy, for nothing within this house felt like what he remembered. Eric's absence was a part of it, although the first time Laurie had met Lynne, Eric wasn't present. The house had been smaller then, Jane hadn't been born.... Laurie sat at the table, recalling how he'd helped Sam make dinner while Lynne had spoken to Stan in the studio. Eric had been trying to make peace with his father, which made Laurie shiver. Then he smiled, inhaling a familiar sweetness, although the scent wasn't that of apple or boysenberry. "What kind of pie did you make?" he asked.

"Peach," Lynne chuckled. "Marek bought a bushel and the freezer's full of them. And of boysenberries," she added, bringing two plates to the table. She set one in front of Laurie, then sat with her own. "Coffee will be ready in a bit, but you can have this first."

Laurie took a bite, savoring the juicy goodness, which hinted back to Lynne and Eric's visit in April. Then Laurie sighed. Looking at Lynne, he reached for her hand, gripping it. "There's so much to say, I don't know where to begin."

"There is, and I don't know either. How's Seth?"

"He's...." Laurie inhaled sharply, but felt no pain. He exhaled, then smiled, forking himself another bite of pie. "He might actually be okay. He still has a lot to process but...." Laurie ate the bite, trying to equate why his cousin was on the road to recovery while this woman was living without her husband. Slivers of guilt pierced Laurie, for he was exceeding grateful Eric had.... Then Laurie coughed. Eric had changed form, leaving this woman who was visibly pregnant, not to mention Jane, still asleep upstairs. And while Seth was better, he was nowhere near being discharged, which meant Eric would remain separated from these people for.... "I'm sorry Lynne, I'm so sorry he's gone."

She nodded, but couldn't speak, which augmented Laurie's culpability. Yet, had Eric possessed any manner in which to stop the transformation? Many questions lingered, then Laurie thought back to Eric's message from the playground. He wasn't sure if he would share that with Lynne, it seemed rather ominous, and maybe it had only been for Laurie. Those words had proffered him a peaceful departure from Miami, but Laurie knew the calm wasn't merely for now. Yet, was it for others as well? "Seth said he'll write me when Eric leaves. I told him he could've written to you, but he said he wants to meet you properly." Then Laurie smiled. That strange hope flickered within his chest, and for the first time it was connected to his cousin. "I think he's really gonna be okay, one of these days. And that's all because...." Then Laurie paused. He stared at his pie, then looked around the room. The kitchen seemed huge, what with it just the two of them. Lynne had lived here with only Jane for nearly three months, and even if Seth was discharged before the end of the year, that left another three months for a mother and daughter to dwell alone. Yes, Lynne had the Aherns and her pastor, but.... "How're you doing?" Laurie asked, still grasping Lynne's hand.

"Okay, I mean, it's hard sometimes. Well, this morning was difficult." Then Lynne smiled. "All Jane wanted was to get into everything and I was making pie and...." Lynne's lip quivered, then she blinked away tears. "I've been looking forward to seeing you, to having some help for a couple of days to be perfectly honest." She giggled. "I'm gonna put you to work Laurie, just so you know."

He nodded, feeling a lightness within his chest similar to that ethereal peace. "Good. I'm ready for something different."

Then he sighed, for no matter how they might wish to gloss over other issues, Eric and Seth were right in that room. Laurie took a large bite of pie, then pushed his plate aside. He smiled, then swallowed. "I'm gonna finish that, but first...." He shook his head. "Christ, I don't even know where to begin."

"Ask whatever you want. But first, I need to ask you something."

"Anything."

Lynne moved her plate near Laurie's, then scooted her chair toward his. She clutched his hands, then met his gaze. "Are you gonna tell Stanford about Eric?"

"Um, you mean that he's a...."

She nodded.

Laurie wore a weak smile. "I wasn't going to. He'd never understand, much less believe me and...." Laurie recalled Seth admonishing him to be honest with Stan. Yet, it was ludicrous to imagine that Stanford could accept on any level what was happening in Miami. Then Laurie stared at Lynne, her mood hard to ascertain. "Do you want me to tell him?"

"I was just wondering." She averted her eyes, then had a long sigh. Laurie knew she felt as Seth did, but how in the world did either of them think Stanford could begin to....

Lynne released Laurie's hands, clasping hers together, setting them on the table. Laurie felt a chill with that pressure gone, but he didn't reach out for her. "Lynne, as far as Stan knows, Eric's been.... Shit, no matter what I tell him, it's not gonna be anywhere close to the truth." Laurie stood, then looked at the kitchen door. This room wasn't the same as when he'd told Sam about Seth, this whole house was like he'd stepped into another universe. Maybe he had, a world where men changed into animals, where he would have to lie to the most precious person. "How the hell did you two live all those years," Laurie blurted. Then he shook his head. "Christ, that was rude. I'm sorry."

Lynne joined him. "It's like you stepped through the looking glass and you'd give anything to go back, but you can't. That's how I felt when he first told me, I thought he was crazy, I thought he'd...." Tears dotted her cheeks, but her smile shone. "All I wanted was for him to tell me it was a lie, but that wouldn't have made sense either. Then when I saw it happen, oh Laurie, it was the most horrifying moment, but then it was like, oh dear lord, he wasn't lying, this does happen, and all I wanted was for him to come back. Maybe that's how you've felt with Seth all this time. You knew he was still in there, but you didn't know how to get him home." She sniffled back tears, wiping those Laurie shed. "I miss him so much, but then he's here, I can't deny that. He's out in the studio and in the garden and in Jane and now in you. And I know that hurts, oh Laurie, believe me. But I think about what he's doing for Seth, and that when it's time, he'll come back. That first time he came back, I didn't know if I was losing my mind, could this be real, but it was, it was him. I was so young and we just took it one day at a time."

Tears poured down her face, but her voice was light, which made Laurie wonder exactly what kind of person was Lynne Snyder. Eric was indeed a strange human being, but this woman was like no other Laurie knew. Then Laurie embraced her, for no words would have sufficed, and those they loved weren't anywhere close. Laurie accepted this woman had become his sister, for how else to describe the bond they now shared? If that made Eric Laurie's brother, what a gift, for previously Laurie only had Seth in that role, and for years it was a tenuous link at best. Then Laurie laughed as Lynne's baby began moving. He pulled away, placing his hand on that child. "One day at a time is probably the only way you could've managed, just like now." Laurie took deep breaths, replenishing his aching heart, which was also rejuvenated by the baby tumbling under his hand. "I bet it is a girl," he said softly, then he winced. Eric had probably never wanted a son, in part due to his abusive father. And now, after all that time spent with Seth, it would be even more ingrained. "No matter what it is," he said, "it's gonna be beautiful."

"Yeah, he or she will be. And I hope you'll be here."

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away." Then Laurie removed his hand; what if Eric was still in Florida, was that Lynne's meaning? Laurie gazed at her, but her smile belied any unpleasant thoughts. Laurie nodded. "I'll be here, Stan will too. Will you have the baby at home again?"

"I think so. Even if Eric's not back, Frannie's offered to help. You can keep Sam and Marek company."

"And Miss Jane too." Laurie chuckled, then gazed toward the kitchen doorway. "Will she sleep much longer?"

"Probably not too much. Let's finish our pie, then we'll check on her." Lynne walked to where the percolator sat on the counter, pouring two cups. She brought them to the table, where Laurie had returned to his chair. "I told Sam we'd have supper with them tomorrow, but that tonight it would just be us here."

Laurie nodded. "How's the adoption going?"

Lynne didn't answer immediately, making Laurie glance her way. She had retrieved her plate, but hadn't forked herself a bite. She gazed around the room, then finally met his eyes. "It's, um, going okay."

Now Laurie stared at Lynne. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly wrong." Lynne wore a knowing smile. "There's a lot that's happened lately, but you've had plenty on your plate." She sighed, but her smile returned. "Marek knows about you and Stanford." Then Lynne giggled. "So do Fran and Louie."

"They do?"

"Uh-huh." Lynne still wore that enigmatic grin. "Sam told the Canfields that Eric went to Miami to help Seth. Fran hasn't questioned me, so I'm leaving it at that."

"But Marek knows about Eric. Seth told me so."

"He's known for a while." Lynne's voice wavered, but she couldn't keep that mysterious grin concealed. "We have so much to catch up on, not sure how much we can get through before I fall asleep tonight."

Now Laurie smiled, in part that he hadn't wanted to speak about things around Jane. And that Lynne's mood wasn't depressed. He was curious about many items, but mostly he ached to see one little girl. Finishing his pie, he sipped his coffee, which was tasty but hot. "Well, we'll see what we can hash out before we hit the hay. In the meantime...." Laurie stood. "Can I go get her?"

"Yeah, but she's a little fussy when she's gotten up early."

"I'll take that chance," Laurie smiled, heading to the kitchen doorway.

Lynne merely laughed as she followed him up the stairs.

Jane treated Laurie like she had only seen him last week, which warmed his heart, and the adults didn't broach more than what Jane found amusing until after she was put to bed, Laurie taking that task. An odd weariness dogged his steps as he returned downstairs, finding a sleepy looking woman resting on the sofa. But as Laurie joined Lynne, she opened her eyes, a soft chuckle escaping. "My goodness," she smiled, "it's so good having you here."

He grasped her hand, then realized how much he felt the same. He wasn't sure if that was due to how engaging Jane had been, how lovely it was to spend time with Lynne, or how he loathed the lie he would tell Stanford back home. Laurie set that detail from his mind, then released Lynne's hand. "Well I'm glad to be of use." Then he shook his head. "Lynne, thanks for letting me come here." Again he grasped her hand, then kissed the back of it. "I needed this, oh my God, so much."

"Me too. Renee and Sam visit, Marek does too, but...." She smiled. "It's a relief knowing I won't be the only grownup here in the morning."

Both laughed, as Laurie had found how much attention one child required in the few hours since his arrival. He wanted to ask what Lynne would do in the new year, but that seemed unnecessary. Seth might be home by then, which meant Eric would have returned as well. Then Laurie pondered that homecoming. "How will he be when he gets back?"

Lynne didn't answer right away, and for a moment Laurie wondered if their conversation would again revert to that awkward state of earlier. Then Lynne began to speak and Laurie was a rapt audience as she described Eric's tortuous transformation in December of 1960. Then she explained his return a year later, which had only been questionable due to his terrible cold. Laurie said little, Lynne's matter of fact tone assuaging his concerns. And now that Marek knew.... Then Laurie cleared his throat. "How did he, I mean...."

Now Lynne's eyes grew teary. "A hawk saved Marek's life."

"A hawk," Laurie said. Then he shivered. "You mean like Eric?"

"I don't know exactly. But regardless of how Eric returns, there'll be people here to care for him."

But what about you, Laurie nearly said. Yes, she had help, plus she didn't have to stretch the truth with those close. Again he winced; there was no way he could share this with Stan. Then Laurie sighed. "Well, at least there's that." He gazed around the room, imagining the Aherns, Marek, even the Canfields milling about, although they didn't know about Eric. Yet not that long ago, only this woman knew the truth. "Lynne, maybe this'll sound odd, but yeah, there are people who know. God, even saying that seems strange, but...." But this was now a reality Laurie would live with for the rest of his life. He would also receive the biggest gift when Seth was home and was well. That made Laurie smile. "I never thought Seth would be healed. But thanks to your husband, oh my God...." Laurie couldn't hold back his laughter, tears accompanying. "I'm gonna have my little brother back, and I can't tell you how good that makes me feel."

Laurie stood, picturing Seth in that room, maybe speaking to Eric or his pastor, or more rightly to Sam. Laurie walked to where the canvas of the orchard had hung, then he peered into the darkened sunroom, night having fallen. Paintings were stacked along the walls, some from the Queens' series, most of Lynne and Jane and the garden. This house was different, but it was also much the same, or perhaps it would always be in a state of flux, what with babies arriving, children growing, and.... One occupant who made the most miraculous alterations; Eric was indeed that hawk, as well as Jane's father, Lynne's husband, and Laurie's friend.

He was another of Laurie's brothers, which made Laurie smile, then turn to find Lynne still seated. Yet her eyes were closed, was she asleep? He didn't approach her, but observed how her hands rested on her baby, yet she moved them; was she following her child's tumbles? Then Laurie realized that Lynne was praying, for her lips moved, silent but meaningful words being offered.

She opened her eyes, gazing his way. "They'll both come home." Her voice trembled. Then she stood, walking toward him. "I look forward to meeting him."

"Not sure when, but one of these days."

Lynne nodded, stifling a yawn. Then she giggled, yawning with force. "One of these days indeed. There's plenty I still need to tell you, but we can talk in the morning."

Laurie also nodded. "Yeah, we'll both sleep well tonight." He wondered what else she had to say, but enough had been stated, or at least the biggest pieces of what Laurie assumed was a very large puzzle, one that may never be completed. He'd never asked why Eric changed form, not that he hadn't considered it, but there was probably no answer to such a question. He also didn't know any more about the Aherns becoming parents, but that was a subject they could speak about in front of Jane, or Laurie assumed that was the case. The awkwardness he had anticipated had been replaced by a sense of family Laurie hadn't dreamed possible. But perhaps that too had been inevitable, for to realize such a phenomenon was only for a small circle. Laurie felt guilty that Stan would sit outside that group, but it was for his own benefit. For even with how calm Lynne seemed, she would sleep alone that night. Would it be better if Eric was in an institution, Laurie mused, as Lynne said goodnight. It was neither here nor there, Laurie accepted, kissing her cheek, then watching as she went to check the doors. When she returned, he followed her upstairs, then they shared a brief embrace. Laurie walked to the end of the hall, turning back as he heard Lynne's door close. He sighed, then stepped into the guest room, shutting his door behind him.
Chapter 137

On Saturday morning, Laurie took a quick shower, then found Lynne and Jane in the kitchen, finishing breakfast. Jane babbled at him, and seeing she was done, he collected her from the high chair, placing her on his lap as Lynne stood, pouring him some coffee. "What can I fix for you?" she said.

"Nothing more than a slice of peach pie." Laurie smiled, smoothing Jane's curls, then keeping her from his coffee cup. "How long've you been up?"

"Not long. She slept in and so did I." Lynne brought a plate and fork to the table, but placed those items in the center. She sat near her guest and daughter, who seemed very pleased for a new admirer. "You're not gonna get much pie eaten with her on your lap."

"I don't mind sharing, unless you don't want her having any."

"When it comes to pie, Jane doesn't really grasp the concept of sharing." Lynne relieved Laurie of baby duty and Jane protested as she watched him tuck into his breakfast. Laurie laughed while Lynne stood. "I'll get her dressed while you eat. Then we can talk about today's plans."

Laurie nodded as the ladies left the room. He had no idea what Lynne wanted to do, other than they were having supper at the Aherns' that evening. He thought about calling Stan, but decided against it. Stanford might think something was wrong if Laurie contacted him now, although Stan would expect a call on Monday, confirming Laurie's flight times for Tuesday. Laurie didn't want to mesh those two worlds, how he thought of his life now. His New York existence and this western universe needed to remain far apart. Thank goodness the rest of America sat between the coasts.

When Lynne and Jane reappeared, both were dressed for the day. "So, what do you wanna do?" Laurie asked, wiping his mouth, then sipping his coffee. "Do you need groceries or other shopping done? Put me to work," he chuckled.

"Well, I need to bake another pie, maybe two. I think it's just us and Marek at their house tonight. If pie's gonna be your morning staple, definitely two." She winked at him, then handed Jane his way. She babbled, but Laurie discerned pie as one of her words. Lynne did too, ruffling her daughter's hair. "Maybe another peach and a pumpkin, it's nearly the season for it."

Laurie bounced Jane on his knee, feeling very at home within this space. It was almost like Agatha had stepped out for a moment, Lynne filling in for her. "Will you make a sweet potato pie while I'm here?" he asked, lost in the joy he'd known back in April. Stan and Eric might not be close, then Laurie shivered; the next time Stan visited would probably be when the baby arrived. If Eric was human again, there wouldn't be any issues, but what if....

"Laurie, Laurie?"

Lynne now knelt in front of him, her hand on his cheek, stirring Laurie from his thoughts. Had Lynne answered him about the pie, what had he missed? He felt sick inside, wondering just how split was his life. "Oh Jesus Lynne, I'm sorry, I was just thinking about...." But he couldn't speak, setting Jane to the floor. He rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Splashing water on his face, he took deep breaths, staring at his image in the mirror. This was his face, but his short haircut added to the sense of displacement. Or rather how odd Stan would be here, not knowing what everyone else took as fact.

When he rejoined Lynne and Jane, mother was toting her daughter as Jane sang something, yet the language wasn't English. Lynne didn't sing along, but the tune was merry, and Laurie came to their sides. "What's she singing?" he asked.

"Something Marek taught her. Well, he sings it all the time and she's picked it up. It's a lullaby, that I know." Lynne faced Laurie, then handed Jane to him. "Are you all right?"

"I dunno. I asked you about sweet potato pie, then...." He sighed, but Jane didn't notice his glum mood, still singing her song. Laurie began to smile, unable to hide it. "God, she's hilarious. Brings out the best in anyone."

"She does." Lynne looked wistful, then she raised her eyebrows. "I answered you that of course I'd love to make a sweet potato pie. Marek will think you read his mind. Laurie, it's okay. This takes time."

She leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands in the pockets of an apron she now wore. Laurie stared at her; she didn't look like Agatha, but projected that same maternal authority, although with Lynne it wasn't as ingrained, probably because she'd been a mother for less than two years. Yet another role hovered, that of a nurse, which she had filled for a long time. Then he felt humbled; not only had she cared for patients, but her own husband. She had written to Laurie that for years they had tried to have a child, but her long-held hopes had borne more than their daughter. In between the lines Lynne had sown the seeds for the truth Laurie was facing, yet only now could he discern that miracle. "You tried to tell me about this in that letter you wrote earlier this year. After I read it, I didn't think about it until Stan's funk got so bad. But you didn't mean Stan, you meant Seth."

Lynne nodded. "But Stanford needed you too. We didn't know how he was."

"How bad he was, you mean."

She gripped Laurie's hand. "I appreciated your honesty after that. And while I know it's uncomfortable, I'm glad you know now." She picked fluff from her apron, then met his eyes. "I also know how hard it'll be when you go home, believe me, I understand."

"Is that why you want me to tell him?" Laurie's mouth felt dry, and he couldn't mention Stan's name.

"It's one of the reasons. And I do understand how hard it'll be for him to even begin to accept it, there's nothing easy about any part of it. Sam didn't fully believe until he watched it happen. And then...." She sighed. "It's like living a new life, like believing in God, which probably sounds very improper, but that's one way to equate it." Lynne smiled, then shook her head. "Maybe you're right, not that I'm any judge to Stanford's state of faith, but...."

"That's pretty apt." Laurie chuckled, then kissed the back of Jane's head. "But he loves this little girl here, hates admitting it though. And he admires the hell out of Eric, and you too, and that's the biggest reason I can't tell him. You've all wormed your way into his heart, which is the last thing he ever wanted. If he knew about Eric...."

Lynne nodded, twisting the hem of her apron. "It was the last thing Sam wanted to believe, it went against everything his faith stood for. I never thought he'd forgive me, to tell you the truth. And until the day he saw Eric change, I knew he still thought I was crazy, even though Eric confirmed everything when he came home. Maybe that's the biggest reason not to tell him."

"Whatdya mean?" Laurie asked.

"He'd think we'd all concocted this to shut him out. You're right, we have gotten under his skin." Lynne wore a small smile, then brushed Jane's hair from her face. "Spending time with you all in April was so lovely, I felt like I got to see the man behind the art dealer." Lynne chuckled, joined by Laurie. "Eric so badly wanted to sketch you two together, and that last day, when you were looking for an extra suitcase, would've been perfect. I don't think I've ever seen Stanford dressed so casually."

Laurie nodded. "We talked about it later, or rather I brought it up, and he didn't argue. But now...." Laurie shook his head. "He can't know Lynne, it would, Jesus, I can't even imagine how he'd try to argue about something so...."

"Inexplicable," Lynne offered.

"Yeah. If it's not black, it better be white. But I knew that when I met him." Now Laurie smiled broadly. "And the funniest part is our relationship is all grey, but he totally overlooks that, goes right on with his day. And I love him that way. I fell in love with him that way and by God Lynne, after everything he's gone through this year, I just can't...."

Laurie blinked away tears, which Lynne subtly wiped away. She kissed his cheek, then squeezed his hand. Then she took a can of sweet potatoes from the cupboard, telling Jane how happy Uncle Marek would be after supper that night.

While Lynne baked, Laurie and Jane trekked about in the garden; he admired the new boysenberry plants, which had grown from how Lynne had described them in letters from earlier in the year. Laurie thought much about their correspondence as Jane led him near the birdbath which bubbled, along to the patio, where she tried to climb into a chair. He also considered Lynne's words about Sam when Jane ran toward the studio, the uncompleted portrait in full view. Laurie hoisted Jane in the air, then settled her on his hip as he studied that piece. Then Laurie wondered about the Aherns adopting a child. Lynne had inferred those plans were in flux, and as Laurie turned back toward the house, he set Jane to the ground. She ran ahead of him, laughing wildly, brown hair flying behind her. She wasn't a baby anymore and Laurie's heart ached for all Eric was missing.

The sweet potato pie was cooling on the counter, but the oven timer ticked, and Laurie inhaled deeply, unable to tell what else Lynne had made. He asked Jane if she knew, but she only repeated the word pie. When Lynne joined them, she kept mum about the pie, putting Jane in a tall seat that Laurie had seen in the corner of the kitchen.

"Is that new?" Laurie asked, sitting near Jane. She leaned toward him, but didn't seem to require his support.

"Fran brought it over a few weeks ago, said Helene had outgrown it. Since you're here, I don't need to keep as close of an eye on her, plus she's nearly too big for the high chair now."

Laurie sighed inwardly, again feeling that ache. "Well, probably good to get her used to it."

Lynne nodded, then brought them each a slice of peach pie. She sat next to Laurie, but watched Jane. "I need to start thinking about moving her out of the crib. Although," Lynne paused for a bite of pie, chewing slowly. Then she took a drink of water. "The baby will be in our room for a while, maybe I don't need to move her until after Eric comes back."

Laurie listened to not only Lynne's words, but her tone, which was as if Eric was actually on an artist's sabbatical. "Lots of things I never considered," he said softly.

"It's funny, because before he left, we didn't talk about these issues. But now, well...." She patted her belly. "There's no stopping the inevitable. I know he misses us, thank you for passing along my message. Don't think I haven't considered flying out there. But I need to let him do that work, goodness knows I have enough here keeping me busy."

Her voice remained stoic, but Laurie's stomach hurt. He took deep breaths as when he'd stepped into the bathroom, then wondered if indeed this was real. He gazed around the room, then smelled the pie on the counter. It was the same scent as he recalled from when Lynne had made it in Manhattan. Then she gripped his hand, making him close his eyes. This wasn't a dream. He looked her way, felt she wanted him to make eye contact. If he did, what would that signify?

"Laurie, if you don't wanna go tonight, Sam and Renee will understand."

Now Laurie smiled. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read minds."

Lynne giggled. "I was a nurse for years, not to mention the wife of a very gifted painter. And while I don't quite have eyes in the back of my head...." Lynne reached across, taking Jane's empty plate, upon which she was about to whack with her spoon. "I can feel them growing. By the time this baby arrives, I'll probably have them, just in time I think."

Jane protested, but only until Lynne gave her daughter a sharp stare. Laurie tried not to laugh, for he didn't want to undermine Lynne's authority. Jane pouted, then smiled as Lynne stood, offering Jane a plain-looking cookie. "She eats these at St. Matthew's when Mrs. Kenny and Marek watch her. One piece of pie is enough for now. Goodness knows how much she'll get tonight."

"Is Sam or Renee the biggest offender?" Laurie asked, assuming Renee would be the soft touch.

"Marek's the worst," Lynne smiled, "and Jane knows it. You watch, she'll want on his lap as soon as Sam serves dessert."

Laurie nodded, then having finished his pie, he took Jane from her chair, snuggling her close. "So what's up with the Aherns adopting a child?"

He'd wanted to ask before they left, but hadn't thought Jane needed to be excluded from that conversation. Yet Lynne felt otherwise, as she stood, mentioning it was naptime. Jane seemed to understand that word, for she protested slightly, then wearily slumped over her mother's shoulder. "I'll be right back," Lynne said to Laurie. Then the ladies left the room.

Laurie gathered the dishes, but left Lynne's as pie remained. He returned to his seat, noting the quiet. What did Lynne do while Jane napped, probably caught some rest at the same time. The more pregnant she became, the more sleep she would need; how often did Sam come over to help, Laurie wondered, or Fran Canfield, although she would have her youngest in tow. When Lynne returned, Laurie was lost in thought, but he turned her way as she cleared her throat. "Let's go outside. It's a nice day, not sure how many more of those we'll have."

They walked to the patio table, but Lynne left one of the sunroom doors ajar. She sat closest to the doors, while Laurie seated himself with the house in view. He glanced at one of his bedroom windows, the curtain fluttering in the small crack he'd left open. Jane's window was shut, the curtains closed.

As Lynne began to speak, Laurie paid attention, not wishing to make her repeat anything. The Aherns did have a few children's dossiers from an orphanage several hours away. As far as Lynne knew, they were still reviewing those files. Yet, her voice took on a more poignant tone as she told Laurie about the Hamilton family, or rather, two orphans. Lynne wasn't sure if those children and their aunt had returned from Colorado, but she knew they were due to arrive soon. Then Laurie grasped what Lynne left unstated, nodding in agreement. Why he felt so aligned to Lynne's idea, he wasn't sure, other than probably because his relatively open mind had been blown wide apart in the last few weeks. Maybe some might think it strange, crass even, but why shouldn't the Aherns consider caring for that little girl and boy?

"Perhaps their aunt will remain their guardian." Lynne caressed her baby as she spoke. "But she's an older woman, not that age is a deterrent. It's just a feeling I have," Lynne added. "Maybe I'm biased right now," she smiled, still with her hands on her belly. "But I've been praying for them, keeps my mind occupied."

"My God how terrible, but maybe you're right." Laurie shivered, although the sun felt warm on his back, glinting off the windows, making him squint. Then he stared at the closed French door, Jane's small fingerprints marking several of the panes. But one up high caught his attention, it seemed clearer than the rest. Laurie went to inspect it, squatting by the door. It wasn't that no fingerprints marred the glass; others near it were devoid of Jane's handiwork. It was simply a newer piece, yet now it stuck out like a sore thumb.

He stood, returning to his seat, still noting that one pane. Then he stared at Lynne. "Did I miss something again?"

She shook her head, that mysterious grin back on her face. "No, you found it."

"What?"

"You tell me."

Laurie gazed at her; she sounded like her husband. Pointing to the door, Laurie sighed. "One of the panes is new, or newer than the others. What happened?"

"Do you really wanna know?"

He sat down, then leaned forward. "I guess I do."

As Lynne explained why that pane had been replaced, Laurie swallowed back bile which had crept up his throat, nearly making its way onto the ground. He gripped the armrests when she mentioned Renee, then he stood abruptly, facing the studio, which no longer was bordered by trees. Yet, that had been where Eric had landed, again with Renee as a witness of sorts. Now that ground was lumpy grass, bordered by boysenberry vines. Lynne lamented that proper sod had yet to be laid, but hopefully next summer Eric would contact the same gardeners who had fashioned the new patio. Speaking of these contrasting details, her voice remained flat, but Laurie wasn't sure how she maintained her sanity. It was as if Lynne was two people, or maybe, like she had said earlier, her youth when first learning about Eric had permitted her to blend such farfetched notions into an acceptable reality. It was how Seth had allowed himself to.... Laurie turned around, staring at Lynne. "How are you sitting there, why aren't you in a mental hospital?"

"I don't know, other than I've been greatly blessed."

Quickly he approached her, for she was now crying. Kneeling beside her, Laurie put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, oh Lynne, I didn't mean to infer...."

"No, you're right," she warbled. Then she looked into the sky. "It's madness, I mean, what I just told you, what Seth told you, for how Laurie, how and why does he turn into a...." Her lip trembled as Laurie pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Handing it to her, she dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose. Then she smiled. "Thanks." Lynne took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "All I know is that he turns into something completely impossible, but then he comes home and he's Eric again. Even after five months he made it back, and when he did...." Now she smiled. "His foot, then our baby, and now this baby. Laurie, there is a God, and why he does this to my husband, I don't know. Why he sent Seth and Sam and how many others to war, I can't tell you that either. But these things are for some purpose. Maybe we'll never know, we certainly won't with Eric, but as long as he keeps coming home, keeps turning back into the man I love, I can't ask for more than that. I just have to keep the faith, that's all I know to do."

As her words ended, her sobs began. Laurie gripped her tightly, uncertain about many things. Yet one concrete notion beat in his head and throbbed in his heart; there was a God and this woman indeed had faith. And woe to anyone wishing to tell her otherwise.
Chapter 138

By the time Sam served dessert, Jane was indeed within her Uncle Marek's arms. Laurie had offered, but Jane clamored for a man who shared half of his ice cream, although, Laurie noticed with a smile, none of his sweet potato pie. Marek ate that first while Jane sat with her auntie. But once Sam cut into the mystery pie, Jane was with an uncle who Laurie saw loved the little girl as much as her godparents did.

Jane wasn't interested in the accompanying pie; she only wanted the ice cream and Marek was generous. Lynne noted his discretion; the pie was a blend of apple and boysenberry, and the small seeds might have been hard for Jane to chew. Lynne didn't say much about the new recipe, although Sam gave several compliments and Renee did too. Marek was quiet, which piqued Laurie's curiosity; perhaps it was that another was aware of this group's secret. Only the Aherns had seen Eric change form, but if Laurie had still possessed any doubt, after that evening no reservation would have remained. Eric's whereabouts were spoken of without hesitation and Sam was relieved Seth had finally made progress. Laurie didn't hear much about the Aherns' personal life, and nothing about those orphans was mentioned. As Jane began to fuss, no more ice cream on Marek's plate, Lynne made noise too, that it was time for them to head home. Laurie followed Lynne's lead as Renee gathered Jane's few playthings. No toys graced the Aherns' home, perhaps Lynne and Jane didn't visit here often. Then Laurie remembered how far apart these families had been earlier in the year, although no distance seemed apparent now, as Renee and Lynne shared a long embrace, followed by an equally strong hug given from Sam to Lynne. Marek had remained seated and Lynne only patted his shoulder. Yet Laurie discerned something between them to which the Aherns weren't privy. Laurie wasn't sure if he'd speak about it, maybe it was a Lutheran issue. Marek didn't prepare to leave, seemed comfortable staying behind. Laurie possessed a new understanding of these West Coast folks, and drove Lynne and Jane home wondering how hard it would be to leave on Tuesday.

The next morning, Laurie again escorted his hostesses to St. Matthew's, where he was introduced as a family friend visiting from New York City. He found a few raised eyebrows, but most people were pleasant, and no one enquired about Eric. The sermon stuck in Laurie's mind; Marek subtly wove the theme of forgiveness amid a story Laurie had never heard, that of an adulterous woman brought to Christ by a mob seeking to stone her dead. Not that if Marek had chosen an Old Testament reading would Laurie have been familiar with that tale, which made him smile, but this story caused him to stare at Lynne, then at Marek. Something was between them, yet it wasn't Eric. Laurie couldn't fathom that any sort of improper relationship had emerged, but he wished to know what those two shared.

After the service, Lynne remained in their pew until all other parishioners had departed. Laurie then followed her to where Marek stood in the vestibule, his smile wide. "So good to see you again Laurie. I hope you had a delicious breakfast."

The men shook hands as Laurie laughed. "Apple boysenberry pie, but no ice cream. That would've been beyond decadent."

"Indeed, not to mention you wouldn't have enjoyed all the ice cream." Marek's eyes twinkled and Laurie felt drawn to this man. What sort of hawk had he encountered in Poland and.... Laurie realized that other than this cleric's nationality, he knew nothing about him. Yet he was very close to the Snyders, although what he shared with Lynne was strictly platonic. Laurie couldn't erase the sense of something known to only them, more than pies, or hawks even. Suddenly he wished he could tell Stan the truth, for there was much to share beyond Eric's transformations. He could inform his partner about the Aherns' plans, but to mention those other orphans wouldn't be the kind of detail Stanford would appreciate. He would tell Agatha, yet, now Laurie's life teemed with multiple histories. This pastor's background seemed as fraught with mystery as Eric's, then Laurie shivered inwardly. Had Marek's family been rounded up by the Nazis, from what atrocity had this pastor escaped?

Yet in his merry voice, no trace of sorrow was detected, and Laurie remained quiet while Lynne and Marek chatted. Laurie gazed overhead to an unadorned wooden ceiling, nothing elaborate about the makeup of this building. The tone of Marek's speech was that of a man missing a key element within his life, and while it wasn't Lynne or Jane, it was that of family. Was it his family from Poland or....

Then Laurie noticed how Marek spoke to Jane in Polish. The toddler seemed to comprehend what Marek said, then she glanced at Laurie as if seeking his agreement. Laurie smiled. "Honey, I have no idea what's going on."

Marek chuckled. "I just told her to enjoy her afternoon with you. And that I hope to see you and Mr. Taylor in the coming year."

Laurie smiled slowly, but warmth coursed through him due to Marek's inclusive tone. "Indeed you'll see us both when baby number two arrives. Stan can't wait, although you'd never get him to admit it."

Marek laughed, then clasped his hands around Laurie's. "Do give him my best. Now Laurie, travel safely on Tuesday. Lynne, enjoy your guest. And Miss Jane...." Marek took the toddler from Lynne's arms, kissing Jane's head. "You have a grand time with Uncle Laurie. I'll see you later this week certainly."

Marek added something in Polish, which made Jane giggle. Lynne sighed as if she knew what had been spoken, making Laurie clear his throat. "What'd you tell her?" he asked Marek.

"Just that the apple boysenberry pie was wonderful, and to convince her mum to try a peach boysenberry next time."

Laurie nodded. "I heartily second that motion."

"You two." Lynne shook her head, but a grin lit her face, and again joy filled Laurie's chest, alongside relief. Yes, he would be leaving soon, but Lynne had support, and Jane was so loved. Then Laurie's heart ached as he witnessed a meaningful glance between Lynne and Marek. Whatever it signified, Laurie felt Eric must know; maybe it was simply tied into who Eric was at that moment and the hawk that had plucked Marek from whatever dismal fate.... Laurie shut that from his mind as Lynne said their goodbyes while handing Jane Laurie's way.

That afternoon mother and daughter took naps while Laurie studied the paintings in the sunroom. He'd sought permission and Lynne gave it with a smile. She'd told him where the keys were for the studio and outbuilding, but enough canvases remained within the house. Eric had been prolific when he returned from Manhattan, but hadn't concentrated on the sketches from Queens. More important were his wife, daughter, and a baby on the way.

Laurie would describe those pieces to Stanford, or maybe not. Perhaps they would say very little about Eric, easier for Laurie to maintain the façade. Then he felt slightly ill, and walked from the sunroom into the living room, but the house held an eerie silence. For all he realized, a few issues were unknown, and the biggest secret was outside all knowledge; when would Eric return?

Then Laurie smiled at himself; since flying west he'd thought little about his cousin, which had been a necessary respite. Was it easier to worry about Eric? If nothing else, no longer was Seth's mental health Laurie's heaviest burden. Laurie looked upstairs; he was eager to go home, but didn't wish to leave Lynne and Jane alone. And when he was home, a massive untruth would permeate his and Stan's lives, which now sat on Laurie's shoulders much like the weight Seth's illness had caused. But once Seth was home, Eric too, then that falsehood could be cast aside. Laurie and Stan would travel here sometime in January for a truly happy reason, and if Eric ever changed again, at least Lynne wouldn't have to.... She'd still lie to Stanford, but Laurie could smooth it over. He sighed, then headed to the French doors. Then he paused as that one pane caught his eye.

Violence had caused that pane to be added, then Laurie shivered, thinking of Seth standing on Korean soil, a rifle in his grasp, his mind with one goal. Were those alterations any different, or more rightly the level of change? To Laurie, the answer was no. How would Seth reconcile his actions, Laurie then mused. He traced the outline of the glass, then shook his head. Opening the door, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. But he looked back at that piece of glass; forever he would notice it. Yet, it didn't mar the overall look of the door. Perhaps that was how Seth would return to their family. He would always be different, but no longer damaged.

Laurie sat at the table, not wishing to see Sam's unfinished portrait. He stared at the grounds, imagining how Jane and her sibling would run around much as he and Seth had played when they were children. Then Laurie chuckled, hoping it would be more than two little ones trekking about in this magical garden. Laurie didn't attach unpleasantness to where Eric had repeatedly transformed into a bird, then back into a man, for a greater good was occurring, both in Florida and right on this property. Then Laurie thought about Marek; what had happened to him? Seth said there was much to tell him, and Laurie wondered how detailed Seth's future letters might be. Did Laurie need that much information, or would it simply be more to keep from Stan? Laurie crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to consider it. Then he dropped his arms to his sides, thinking of Sam's portrait. How would the finished piece appear, and when might Eric complete it?

After her nap, Lynne found Laurie seated at the patio table. He turned as she opened the door, his smile genuine, but edged with questions. "Hello," she said, closing the door most of the way. "Thanks for letting me sleep."

"Of course." He pointed toward Jane's window. "Is she still snoozing?"

"She is, but we'll hear her. Sometimes I come out when she naps, and she never fails to let me know she's done resting."

Laurie chuckled as Lynne sat beside him. She gazed to the grounds, which no longer sported summer's touch. Leaves were turning golden, rainwater filled the birdbath, and these pieces of furniture were speckled with dusty splotches. "Sam will probably come over this week, putting these away." She motioned to the table and chairs. Then she gazed at the bubbling fountain. "Probably time to turn that off too."

"Do you prune the boysenberries?" Laurie asked.

Lynne smiled. "I don't, but Eric usually gives them a once-over. Not sure what'll happen this year, and the new plants don't need any attention. Goodness knows there's plenty of fruit in the freezer. If we get a bad crop next year, it'll be okay."

She didn't fret about those items, but her heart was heavy, for questions loomed in Laurie's eyes. She'd felt his gaze on her and Marek as they spoke in the vestibule. Lynne didn't know if Marek had written back to.... Lynne's eyes grew misty, then she sighed. "What would you like for supper tonight?"

"What, oh, anything's fine." Laurie leaned back in his chair. "I'm not too bad making grilled cheese sandwiches if that sounds good."

"It does, tomato soup on the side." Lynne's voice trailed off. She would cook something more elaborate tomorrow for Laurie's last day. Then it would be back to simple fare, although she expected to share a meal, maybe two, with the Aherns later in the week. But perhaps Sam's thoughts would be divided, much on his and Renee's minds.

Lynne wouldn't attend mass in the morning, or on Tuesday, when she would drive Laurie to the airport, then come home to an empty house and.... She shed a few tears, then looked at that man, who wore a frown. "What is it?" she said softly.

"Part of me doesn't wanna leave. I can't wait to be home but...." He inhaled deeply, tried to smile, yet shook his head. "You'll be alone here."

"It's been lovely having company." She looked around the patio, then met Laurie's gaze. "I won't lie about that. It gets so quiet, I mean...." Lynne bit her lip, then glanced at her belly. "There's three of us, but I do most of the talking."

"Or at least all the English." Laurie grinned. "Do you ever hear Jane speaking Polish?"

Now Lynne giggled. "Sometimes. She sings that song often, goodness knows what the baby must think."

Laurie reached for Lynne's hand, squeezing gently. "I'm sure she knows she's surrounded by love."

"I'm sure she does." Lynne gripped back, then released Laurie's hand, getting to her feet. "Well if nothing else, you've brightened our weekend. I so appreciate...." She blinked away tears. "I know the reason's difficult, but it's been so good seeing you."

He stood, then embraced her. "I feel just the same."

They remained together until Jane's cry was detected. Lynne pulled away, wiping her face. "Someone's feeling left out."

"I'll fetch her." Laurie headed inside, Lynne right behind him.

Lynne and Laurie never spoke about Marek other than Laurie noting how much he enjoyed the sermon. Lynne had too, but hadn't taken more from it than what Marek outwardly taught, forgiveness an essential message. On Monday, Laurie did laundry while Lynne made another pie, this time pumpkin. Laurie lamented how there was no room in his suitcase to smuggle it home, but his tone was jovial. That afternoon Sam stopped by, and the men chatted about Seth while Lynne fixed supper. She asked Sam if he and Renee wanted to join them, but Sam begged off, noting that Renee had another long day at the office. Lynne didn't inquire further, but after Sam left, she spoke to Laurie about that situation. Both agreed it seemed more than a coincidence, but other than prayer, there was little for them to do.

After supper, Laurie called Stanford, their conversation lasting only long enough for Stanford to confirm Laurie's travel information. Lynne played with Jane in the nursery, where Laurie found them. To Lynne, Laurie looked tired, but his voice was light, although Lynne wondered if that was for Jane's benefit. The threesome remained in the nursery for another half hour, then Lynne announced it was bath time. Laurie went to pack, then rejoined the ladies, again in the nursery. He sat in the rocker reading to Jane while Lynne folded diapers. As Jane grew sleepy, Lynne stood in the open doorway, listening to Laurie's soft croon. Lynne wiped away tears, in part from how close Laurie had become to her family, and for his impending absence.

Once Jane was asleep, Lynne and her guest went downstairs, but the stillness felt ominous, and not only to Lynne. Laurie tried to make conversation, but finally he sighed. "I should head to bed too. Gonna be a long day tomorrow."

Lynne nodded. "By now I'm already in my pajamas." She looked around the room, which appeared no differently than before Laurie's arrival, yet it seemed altered. She smiled at him. "Be sure to call when you get home. I'll be thinking of you all day."

"Of course. You and Stan both."

She giggled. "Yes, but he'll have work to keep him busy."

"What'll you do tomorrow?"

"Some laundry, maybe entertain Sam if he's not occupied. Just the same old, same old."

Lynne didn't feel sorry for herself, but Laurie approached her, grasping her hands. "I really do wish there was two of me. I'd gain ten pounds from pie alone, but...."

"You might not, what with chasing after Jane."

Laurie chuckled. "She's a handful." Then he frowned. "I just hate thinking of you here by yourself."

"I've done it before and then I really was on my own." She patted the baby, which tumbled, making Lynne smile. She placed Laurie's hand where the movements were strongest, then their eyes met. Tears formed in his, but he smiled, blinking them away.

Neither spoke, yet Laurie didn't move his hand. For a moment Lynne felt this man was channeling her husband, for Laurie's touch was soothing. Then Laurie took back his hand, wiping his cheeks. "It really is a miracle, my God. I can't wait to see you all in January."

Lynne nodded, many emotions swirling within her. Then she turned toward the dark fireplace, wishing a blaze roared. She would start building a fire, just for the crackles and pops, something to replace the emptiness. Having someone stay overnight made such a difference, for the mornings were abuzz with conversation and the evenings.... She looked back at Laurie, who had crossed his arms over his chest. Before the nights hadn't been lonely, Lynne had been too tired to think about who was gone. Now her heart ached, for while this man would return to his other half, she would still be waiting. "January will be here before we know it." Her voice trembled. "And on that note, so will tomorrow." She yawned, although it was forced. "I'm gonna lock up."

As she stepped near Laurie, he grasped her hands. "I'll do it. You go on. I'll see you in the morning."

His touch was calming, nothing more. She nodded, then stroked his damp cheek. He smiled, kissing the back of her hand. Then he made a small flourish, stirring Lynne's laughter. She took the stairs, but waited for him on the landing. After one more embrace, she stepped into her room, closing the door behind her. Her heart still ached, but the pain was lessened, for she wasn't the only one sleeping alone.
Chapter 139

One last morning Laurie started off his day with pie. Jane seemed to sense the impending change, for she clung to her uncle, then fussed on the ride to the airport. Laurie tried not to worry how the rest of Lynne's day would proceed as she gave him her love, and that for Stanford. Laurie kissed her cheek through the open driver's side window, then watched as she drove away from the terminal, hearing Jane's cries carrying through the air.

As Laurie began his voyage home, Stanford attended to tasks in his office, but his mind was far away from artists, focused on the one heading east. Agatha too had Laurie in her thoughts, hoping his return would settle Stanford's anxiety. He had admitted to her only yesterday where Eric was, which pained Agatha, yet she would refrain from writing to Lynne until Lynne mentioned it first. Agatha had stew simmering, both for Stanford and Laurie's comfort as well as her own.

In Miami, Eric spent another day outside of Seth's window, ministering to that man while considering how Lynne and Jane were again living by themselves. Eric prayed that Laurie had a safe flight home; he also sought peace for Seth, who was still making progress, but at times it was painstaking, as Dr. Sellers eased from his patient more details from Korea. Eric was grateful not to have been drafted, even if now he was so far from his family. And again he hoped the coming baby would be another girl. That was a topic of which he and Seth often spoke, which ushered in darker issues that kept Eric as a bird of prey. He wasn't sure how long this part of Seth's recovery would take, but Eric didn't expect to be home by Halloween.

On that first day of October, Marek spent his morning dictating letters to Mrs. Kenny. He'd prayed for all within his flock, adding Laurie and Seth to that list, as well as the Aherns. Once Lynne, Laurie, and Jane had left on Saturday night, Renee had mentioned the dossiers from which she and Sam had to choose. Marek had noticed how only Renee had spoken about those files, while Sam's eyes had flitted around the room, often settling on the painting of boysenberry vines. Marek thought it another stunning piece, but had found Sam's disinterest in the dossiers intriguing. Marek added those orphans to his prayers, then considered another letter that he would write after Carla left for the day. He'd given great consideration to Lynne's feminine perspective, a term that still stirred his smile, yet the words he wanted to say to Klaudia remained elusive. Perhaps when he sat down with a pen in his hand, the right thoughts would emerge.

In Oslo, it was late afternoon and growing dark. Klaudia sat by herself on the bus, as Sigrun had a bad cold. This was the second workday Sigrun had missed, but Klaudia didn't mind; Sigrun had become a small pest, daily enquiring if mail from America had arrived. Klaudia didn't expect Marek would be so bold as to send any more, and if he did, she'd.... A bump in the road disturbed her thoughts, then she stared out the window, finding her stop was next. She stood, moving to the front of the bus. Within minutes, she was standing on the sidewalk, wrapping a scarf snugly around her neck.

She walked slowly, a stiff wind blowing, but she ignored it, cooler temperatures on the horizon. She was used to Norwegian winters, more the length of them to bother her, but she chalked that up to her age. She would be thirty-six a few days before Christmas, but often felt much older in part that Sigrun was forty-three. Perhaps it was also due to Gunnar, who had been five years Klaudia's senior. He'd been dead for ten years and while Klaudia rarely considered him, lately she had dreamed of him, but that was only due to.... She scuffed her shoe along the pavement, then looked up, seeing Sigrun's front door. Klaudia should check on her best friend, but if she knocked, regardless of how poorly Sigrun felt, the question would be asked, and Klaudia had to forget about....

As the wind grew stronger, Klaudia moved ahead, reaching her own front door. She peered in the mailbox, finding it empty. Her heart pounded, then she inwardly berated herself. She unlocked her door, stepped inside, the entryway cold. Closing the door, she turned up the thermostat, removing her coat. She stepped into the kitchen, turned on the light, then set her purse on the nearest chair. Laying her coat over that chair, she rummaged through her bag for cigarettes. Lighting one, she took a long drag, then shivered. Winter was around the corner, which would hover over Scandinavia for months. Marek Jagucki lived in the American West; did he know such dark, forbidding weather, did he carry the bitter memories that still haunted Klaudia twenty-plus years after the fact?

In his reply, he'd made no mention of how he had survived, and while Klaudia was relieved that he had, she wondered how he'd managed to escape that.... She took another drag from the smoke, then set it in the ashtray. She rubbed her upper arms with her hands, then used the toilet. The house was still cold, although she felt heat emerging in the usual places. Yet even standing close to those warming waves, her fingers were icy, her knees knocked, her heart.... She tightly shut her eyes, for the last thing she wanted was to cry over a man who for as hard as she'd tried to forget was still stuck fast inside her. Marek was wedged within her heart and damn Sigrun all to hell! It was her fault for making a big deal out of something so, so.... Klaudia shook her head, then laughed out loud; Sigrun deserved to be very ill for stirring all this grief. Then Klaudia stared at where she stood, alone in a cold house in Oslo; why in the world was she there at all?

She hadn't wanted to leave their village, pleading with her parents that they couldn't go. But of course it had been the right decision; life under the Soviets would have been miserable, but at the time, Klaudia couldn't fathom abandoning the only man, the only person, the only one.... While she'd never heard Marek's screams among those which emanated from that burning structure, he must have perished alongside them. To consider anything else would have driven her to madness, although once the smoldering piles had grown cold, Klaudia had inspected the ruins, the only one brave enough to get that close, or as others said, the only person crazy enough to poke around a gravesite. Yet, no one ever gave the Jagucki clan a proper burial; their ashes had remained untouched. No one had possessed the courage to stop what had happened, and they never had the decency to organize the appropriate closure.

Then Sigrun wanted to visit that art gallery. Again this was Sigrun's fault, Klaudia fumed. They had gone on a Saturday, just the two of them, because Harald never went to anything other than football matches. Klaudia knew nothing of this Eric Snyder, and truthfully, Sigrun hadn't either, but the reviews were good, and it was something to do. The paintings were indeed beautiful, until Klaudia reached the one of the man with the darkest eyes, yet, they twinkled. Oh how bright were those cocoa brown eyes, so vibrant and alive, which had made Klaudia's legs weak, her eyes teary, and her guts churn. There was no way Marek could be among the living, yet regardless of his bearded face and that ugly collar around his neck, there he was, holding a little brunette with the bluest eyes Klaudia had ever seen. The baby had to be a girl; Marek had a daughter, which had nearly caused Klaudia to scream right there in the museum. But she'd maintained her composure, returning to his eyes staring at her, eyes knowing all she had seen, heard, endured. Those eyes burned through the steely layers that had hidden her soul since the doctor announced something was terribly wrong with Klaudia's son. She had named her firstborn for the man in that painting, but Klaudia's baby was retarded while that little girl sat with her daddy, fully aware of how much she was loved.

Except that the baby wasn't Marek's. Klaudia had wept hard reading those lines, trying to catch her breath, then balancing that fact among so many others, that Marek was alive, in America of all places, and was a minister. That last point had disgusted Klaudia, making it easier to calm her tattered nerves, but she'd lost so many tears before reaching that detail that Marek's note wasn't more than soggy paper. Yes she burned it, but only after it had taken two days for it to dry, and so that Sigrun would have no idea the extent of how distraught Klaudia had become over it. Yet damn her to hell, Sigrun still knew anyway.

Now Klaudia felt a rising heat and she cracked her knuckles, then smiled. She stepped to where her cigarette had mostly burned to ash, then sucked back what remained, trapping nicotine far into her lungs. She exhaled a noxious cloud, but not only tar and other ingredients. Anger and regret swirled alongside the hollowness of her heart, which again was well shielded. Marek Jagucki might be alive, but he was still as dead as the rest of his family. For Klaudia's sake, he needed to stay that way.

That evening in the United States, Laurie and Stanford celebrated their reunion, first in bed, then in the kitchen, bowls of stew in front of them. Stanford had called Lynne before supper was eaten, but after Laurie's return. Lynne had sounded happy for the news, if not a little lonely, and Stanford assured her they would visit in January.

Eric spent that night hunting lizards, not thinking about Seth's small setback. Dr. Sellers had assured Seth that these roadblocks were a matter of course, but Eric had felt dizzy as Seth was given an increased dose of Thorazine. Part of Eric's lightheadedness had been from hunger, and he might not visit Seth for a day, giving them both some space. Eric ate his fill, then found a tree in which to rest. He prayed for his family, then dozed off, dreaming of that long flight home in December 1961.

Lynne and Jane had spent their afternoon with Sam, who brought in wood, then built a fire before his departure. Sam noted that Vivian Kramer had returned from Colorado and was hoping to resume work by the end of the week, assuming she had found a babysitter for Ann and Paul. Sam used those names like he knew the children well, but Lynne didn't inquire past the basics. As far as Sam knew, Paul would start attending kindergarten while Ann would remain at home with a babysitter. After Sam left, Lynne began a letter to Laurie, sharing these details, asking him to keep her abreast of Seth's recovery. Then Lynne fixed supper for herself and Jane, checking on the fire when the pops decreased.

Sam returned to a quiet house; Renee would be at work late again, but she'd told him to not wait to eat. They were having leftovers, but Sam wasn't hungry for food. He ached for information, yet all Renee knew was what he'd shared with Lynne. Sam peered at the dossiers piled on the coffee table. He needed to go through them; Renee had been harping at him about it. But every time he tried, his vision grew blurry, not from tears, only that the words blended together, making the data unreadable.

He couldn't even focus on the photographs; every time he tried, all he saw was a red-headed girl or a blue-eyed boy, and that didn't made sense, in that the pictures in the dossiers were all black and white. Yes, descriptions of each child noted their hair and eye colors, heights and weights too. But Sam kept going back to the snippets Renee had revealed in passing to Marek Jagucki of all people. She hadn't said these things to Sam alone, but when that Pole lingered on Saturday night after Lynne, Jane, and Laurie had left, Renee mentioned Ann had red hair and Paul had blue eyes. Marek had found that interesting, but Sam had been floored, yet what did those characteristics signify? He picked up the stack of folders, opening the first one, but the words were fuzzy. Before they became completely unrecognizable, he discovered this child, a girl, was a blonde with grey eyes. He checked the next, a boy with green eyes, followed by a brunette girl with brown eyes. The next was another boy, a red-head but his eyes were green. The last file was that of another blonde girl, seven years old with blue eyes. Sam sighed, then closed that folder, placing all five back where they had lain.

He sat on the sofa, staring at the dossiers, a strange lump forming in the pit of his stomach. Ann and Paul belonged to Vivian; she was their guardian as well as their only living relative. How could he feel so drawn to them, he hadn't even met them, only knew this information via Renee, and she'd only seen them when she'd left Vivian's house. She had also spoken to their mother, and had watched their father lead them back to what was now their home, but Renee never described those adults. They were dead and their children would be raised in this town by their elderly aunt, end of story.

Yet, Sam's heart pounded, then he stood, huffing as he did so. Now he was hungry and he stepped into the kitchen, taking a container from the refrigerator. He'd made split pea soup last night as the weather had felt cool. Baseball season was over, another bad year for the Red Sox, but Sam had lost interest after Eric left, barely scanning the sports pages. Seth had been a distraction, Lynne's pregnancy too, and of course Eric's absence. Yet those issues had been overshadowed by Renee's change of heart, even if Father Markham had been on a retreat, and only now did files from St. Francis' wait to be reviewed. If Sam and Renee ever had a few minutes together, they would discuss those orphans, choose one, then perhaps by Thanksgiving one of those kids would be an Ahern.

Time seemed an elusive notion; very little of it for Sam and Renee together, plenty for Sam alone. Too much for Lynne, and was there enough time for Eric to ease Seth back into reality, then return before the baby was due? Laurie had seemed of two minds, eager to go home, but loathing to leave Lynne. How did Stanford consider time, Sam wondered. Perhaps it was business as usual for the art dealer, especially now with Laurie back. Then Sam grimaced, for Stanford thought Eric was in a mental institution, yet, how could Laurie tell him otherwise? Sam took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Sometimes the most unreal situations were actually the God's honest truth, like Ann and Paul Hamilton. Then Sam shook his head. He had no right to assume....

The front door rattled and Renee's I'm home rang through the house. Sam headed to where she stood, taking off her coat and scarf in the living room. "Hey honey. I didn't expect you so soon."

"Dr. Howard told me to go. Several appointments were cancelled. I was able to get a lot of paperwork done though, and he said I could do the rest tomorrow." She sounded tired to Sam, then she looked toward the kitchen. "You eat yet?"

"Was just getting it out," he smiled. "Won't take but a few minutes."

She nodded. "Gonna use the bathroom first."

Sam chuckled, placing her wraps on the sofa. Then he went into the kitchen, putting soup into a pot. By the time Renee joined him, the soup was starting to simmer. Renee sat in her chair, leaning back. "My goodness it's been a long week, and it's only Tuesday. You hear from the New Yorkers?"

Sam shook his head. "I assume he got back okay. Lynne would've called if something happened."

"Yeah, that's true." Renee sighed, then fiddled with her hair. "So Sam, after supper tonight, why don't we have a look at the...."

He knew what she was going to say before she could end her sentence, and he started nodding in agreement. In that split-second, Sam accepted that Ann and Paul belonged with their aunt, she was the only relative they knew, although they were so young. Paul was as old as Johnny, while Ann and Helene were about the same age. Sure, they only saw their aunt a couple of times a year, but no one else had been designated as their guardians, which now struck Sam as odd. Their parents must have had friends they felt were capable, yet they had entrusted one older woman to look after youngsters. As Sam considered that, stirring bubbling soup, waiting for Renee to finish her statement, the phone rang. He smiled as Renee paused; it was probably Lynne, letting them know Laurie was home.

Sam chuckled as he picked up the receiver. "Hello there. Are your ears burning?"

"Excuse me? Is this the Ahern residence? I'm trying to reach Renee."

"Oh yes, it is." Sam felt foolish. "Um, Renee's right here, just a minute." He handed the receiver to his wife, then returned to the stove, taking the soup from the flame.

"Hello? Oh hi Vivian." Renee glanced at Sam, but she didn't seem concerned. Sam's stomach rumbled, but not from hunger. He stirred the soup, but wouldn't dish it up until Renee was off the line.

"Uh-huh," Renee replied to her co-worker. "Yeah, okay, uh-huh. Wait, you what?" Renee tapped her foot, then she held the receiver with both hands. "Um, I dunno, let me ask Sam."

He stared at her. "What? Ask me what?"

Renee trembled, placing her left palm over the end of the phone. "Vivian wants to know if I can go over there, she said both kids are crying. She sounds...." Renee stepped as close to Sam as the cord allowed. "At her wits' end," Renee whispered. "Do you mind?"

"No, of course, tell her you'll be right there. Do you want me to drive, I mean...." Sweat trickled down Sam's forehead. "No, I'll stay here and...."

"Let me see what she says." Renee whispered that, then cleared her throat. "Vivian, of course I can come over. Sam's here too, shall we both? Oh, uh-huh, sure, okay. Yeah, right. Okay, we'll be there in a few minutes."

As Renee stopped speaking, Sam broke into a smile, which he immediately hid when Renee caught his gaze. She nodded at him, then pointed to the end of the receiver, shrugging. Sam only saw her nod, for he then stepped away from the stove, headed to the living room, looking for his jacket. By the time Renee was off the phone, Sam had his keys in hand, wallet in his back pocket, and he was standing by the front door. Renee popped her head through the kitchen doorway. "Sam, what about supper?"

"I'll deal with it when we get back. Let's go, Vivian needs us."

Renee looked taken aback as she went to the sofa where her wraps waited. Sam had the front door open before she could put on her scarf, and he nearly pushed her out the door. He ran to the Chevy, starting the car, leaving Renee to lock up. As she sat in her seat, he revved the engine, pulling out of the driveway. Then as he put the car into first gear, he gazed at his wife.

Renee wore a smirk. "So, where are we heading Sam?"

He nearly said To see our children. "Okay, tell me where to go."

Renee giggled, then gave directions. Sam sped away, then braked hard at the stop sign that he never failed to notice. Renee didn't question him, but she squeezed his knee, then kept her hand there. Maybe she didn't feel the same, but Sam wouldn't ask. He drove, also prayed, wondering just how red was Ann's hair and what shade of blue were Paul's eyes.
Chapter 140

Sam was still reading to Paul, both seated on the sofa, as Vivian and Renee drank tea in the kitchen. It was nearly nine o'clock and Renee had to wonder just how her friend would cope with this new arrangement. Ann had only fallen asleep ten minutes ago, having wept for her mother during all of Renee and Sam's visit. Renee had rocked the little girl, telling her.... What had she said, for now Renee couldn't imagine what she might have offered to such an inconsolable child, but finally it seemed to have eased Ann to sleep, or more rightly, she had cried herself out. But she hadn't wanted to be held by Vivian, only Renee, although Sam hadn't tried, too busy with Paul. Renee gazed across the table, finding an exhausted woman gripping a mug, wiping tears from her face. Renee reached over, steadying Vivian's hands. Vivian nodded, trying to form a smile.

Yet, her mouth remained frozen in a worried half-frown; having only known Vivian since spring, now Renee considered this woman a vital member of her family. Was it from all Vivian had done when Sam was sick, then Renee felt a distinct shift within her ribcage, like her lungs were moving, or maybe it was her.... When the Aherns had arrived, Ann had been squirming in Vivian's grasp, crying hard. Paul had stood at his aunt's side, tugging on her housecoat, also in tears. Sam had immediately picked up the little boy, while Renee stared at Vivian's unkempt appearance, then Ann had been thrust into Renee's arms, Vivian mumbling she needed the ladies' room. No proper introductions had been made, and while Paul seemed to calm in Sam's hold, Ann continued to bawl for her mother. Those cries hadn't bothered Renee; they were expected from a three-year-old at this stage of loss, for there was no manner to explain to a small child why her mother was gone, or her father. Then Renee had momentarily shut her eyes, not to drown out Ann's wails, but to blot out the image of that woman. Red-haired and blue-eyed Beth Hamilton had bestowed those physical traits upon her offspring, yet that was all she would give them. Most likely neither would remember her, or Roy. Maybe Paul might carry some faint recollection, he was five after all. But Renee didn't possess any memories from that part of her youth; she'd tried to conjure some while Ann kept howling, Paul's whimpers in the background. Renee hadn't been able to muster anything other than learning from where Thanksgiving dinner originated. She must have been eight or nine already, certainly old enough to be put off turkey for years to come.

While Ann wept, Renee had pondered a few notions, for Vivian didn't return right away. When she did rejoin them, she was dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved blouse. She asked if Sam and Renee wanted something to drink, and Renee had shaken her head while Sam requested a glass of water. Now Renee gazed at the clock, hanging over the kitchen sink window; it was late and neither Ahern had eaten supper. But Renee wasn't particularly hungry, although the tea was nice. What about Sam? She gazed around the room; they hadn't fed the children, maybe Vivian had done so earlier. Renee nearly stood to ask Paul if he wanted a snack. But she only heard Sam's soft murmurs, a tone he used around Jane or Fran's kids when those youngsters were nearly asleep. Renee smiled; Sam would make such a good father as soon as they got around to reading those dossiers.

Then Renee glanced at her friend; perhaps Vivian had assumed caring for two little ones wouldn't be too taxing, yet that wasn't the case. Then Renee grew curious; why had Vivian called the Aherns for assistance? Vivian had a wide circle of friends; on weekends she was always going to parks, museums, or stately homes. Then Renee tutted herself; those friends were probably Vivian's age, close to retirement if not already enjoying their golden years. It had been wise for Vivian to call Renee, and Sam's presence was helpful too. Then Renee listened carefully; Sam had stopped speaking. Renee caught Vivian's attention, then motioned toward the living room. Vivian gazed that way, then nodded, visibly relieved that Paul might actually be asleep.

"Thank God," Vivian then whispered. But she didn't move to verify her assumption, instead sipping her tea. Renee however needed confirmation. She stood, quietly walking to the doorway separating the two rooms. Sam had Paul over his shoulder, was heading to the hallway. He met Renee's eyes, and she could tell he wanted to ask where to lay the sleeping boy. Renee walked to the hallway, turned on the light, then led her husband to where Renee had lain Ann to sleep. Enough light shone from the hall so Sam could see Paul's bed across from where Ann slept. Renee stood in the children's doorway, observing how gently Sam placed Paul on the mattress, not wishing to wake either child. Sam set a blanket over the youngster, then bowed his head. Tears formed in the corners of Renee's eyes as Sam prayed over that boy. Then she wiped her face as Sam turned around, heading her way.

They left the room together and Sam gripped her hand until they reached the living room. Then he released her, quietly clearing his throat. "Gonna use the bathroom," he whispered.

Renee nodded, then she smiled as Sam went back down the hall. She hadn't turned off the light, mostly because Sam had closed the kids' door, and Renee needed to relieve herself before they left. She would do that once Sam returned, but would make sure he had a cup of tea in front of him. He probably needed something stronger, maybe a stiff drink once they were home and had eaten a late supper.

By the time Sam joined the women, tea waited for him at the table. Renee couldn't remember if Sam had ever met Vivian, so she made those introductions, then excused herself. She didn't tarry, although as she walked along the hallway, she paused at the children's bedroom door. She heard nothing but small snores, then made her way to the kitchen, turning off the hallway light as she went. Vivian was still gripping her mug, Sam's in his hand, and Renee retook her seat, feeling a little weary, but satisfied. She and Sam could leave knowing they had indeed offered four helpful hands.

Silence permeated the kitchen, which also made Renee smile. Then she hid a grimace, for in looking at Vivian, stillness within this home would be a fleeting dream for ages to come. How long would it take Ann to adjust, then Renee shivered. Was it easier for orphans surrounded by other children, or was this the ideal situation for such changes to be initiated? Then Renee wondered if this was how Vivian's time in Colorado had gone. "Was this how it went before you all came back here?"

Both Vivian and Sam stared at Renee, who suddenly turned crimson. She hadn't prefaced her query with any comment, and her words must have sounded judgmental, if not overtly rude. She sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. I was just wondering...."

Yet to Renee's surprise, both Sam and Vivian reached out their hands to grasp hers. Then Vivian cleared her throat. "Neither one was that upset." Vivian sighed, then released Renee's hand. "Some neighbors helped out and the kids were used to their house. It's only been hard since we got here."

"I just wondered." Renee glanced at her husband, but his mood was hard to gauge. Then she looked at Vivian. "Were you surprised you'd been made their guardian?"

Vivian shook her head. "Beth had asked me even before they had Paul. I said yes, I mean, you never assume the worst." Vivian trembled, but Renee felt it wasn't in sadness. More futile in nature, as if she had lost a patient, not a niece. Maybe that was the best way to handle it for now, Renee permitted.

"And now here we are," Vivian continued. "But to be honest with you both, I just don't know if I can...." Taking a deep breath, Vivian let it out slowly. "When I went out there, I was actually surprised I was still their guardian. Roy doesn't, I mean, he didn't have any family." Vivian paused briefly. "But they'd lived there several years and I figured they had friends more their age who'd, you know." Vivian peered into her cup, toying with the handle. "I never asked, that would've been strange. But no one said anything to me while I was there, and until we got back here I thought it'd be okay. Ann doesn't understand anything, she's so little, and Paul...." Vivian sighed, gazing first at Renee, then at Sam. "He was his daddy's boy. Looked just like Beth but...." Now Vivian's voice quivered. "Both kids look like her, a lot like my brother. But how I'm supposed to take care of them, I just don't know."

Vivian stared again at her mug, vigorously shaking her head. "I don't have the energy," she said softly. Then she met Renee's gaze. "And I just don't have the...." Vivian blinked away tears, then wiped her face with her sleeve. "It's not that I don't love them, but it's been way too long since I, oh my goodness." She reached for a napkin from the center of the table, then blew her nose. "They need real parents, more than some old aunt they barely know. They need...." Vivian glanced at Sam, then at Renee. "Folks like you two. There's a reason I called you tonight Renee. I know we've only worked together since the beginning of the year, not even that long. But you and your husband, well...."

Renee's eyes grew wide as the words fell into her ears. Not for one moment had she considered what Vivian was insinuating, had Sam? Renee looked at him, then she began to tremble. Tears were rolling down his face, he was nodding his head. Then Renee gazed at Vivian, who had grasped Sam's left hand, and she was crying too. Was she still speaking, Renee wondered, but the only sounds were those of two weeping adults, although the tones weren't sad. Well, Vivian's seemed a little sorrowful, but Sam's mood carried no unhappy resonance. He breathed deeply, then stared at Renee. His eyes were wet, wide, and so blue, as though an ocean rested in his face. Renee tried to inhale, but her breaths were choppy, not like the calm water of Sam's eyes, as if the whole world was sitting in Renee's midst, waiting for her to jump right in.

"You want us to do what?" Renee tried to look away from Sam's face, yet, she was drawn back to his eyes, the blue like she had never seen. It wasn't the hue of Jane's; it was the blue of the sky when Eric flew past the nursery window, a magnificent blue, beautiful and free and blessed. Renee shivered, then bit her lip. She peered around the room, trying to gather her bearings. This wasn't St. Francis' orphanage, this wasn't St. Joseph's either. It was the home of one older woman, but it wasn't a house for children, or not one to be raised within. Renee thought back to when she had brought over the bear, toys strewn about the living room, but that evening no playthings had caught her eye, nor had that bear been present. Where was that bear, Renee mused. "What happened to Scooter?" she blurted.

What was real, she also wondered, needing to know something concrete. Vivian had only asked for their help, that was all she'd said on the telephone a few hours ago. Dossiers sat on the Aherns' coffee table, other children who had been waiting years for parents. Yes, Ann and Paul were orphans too, but, but, but....

"Oh that bear," Vivian sighed. "Ann threw it in the garbage a few days after...." Vivian met Renee's gaze. "She stopped talking for a couple of days, I was getting worried. Then one afternoon, after she'd had her nap, she took Scooter into the kitchen and threw him in the trash. I pulled him out, was gonna throw him in the washing machine, but she was adamant, actually took him from my hand, then right back in the garbage he went. When she wasn't looking, I took him out, was waiting for her to ask for it back. She never did, although she did start talking again. She didn't even pester Paul for his bear. That was right before we came home, which made me wonder how things would go here. And they've been just terrible. They're so upset still, and I know it's a huge shock, believe me I understand that. But I'm just not that young anymore and it's not fair to any of us." Vivian glanced at Sam, then back to Renee. "And I mean all of us. Maybe that sounds selfish, but I'm not only thinking of myself. I'm thinking about two youngsters who would do so much better with real parents. And I certainly don't mean to overstep my bounds, I don't wanna impose upon you. But I've been thinking about this since the night I called you when I first learned the news. I've watched you Renee, around the few kids we get in the office. And while I don't mean to...." Vivian sighed. "I'm old and I'm tired and it pains me greatly to admit this, but I'm not the best person for this job."

Now Vivian began to weep, placing her hands over her face. Yet Renee was frozen in her chair, the revelations swirling around her. Sam however, scooted beside Vivian, embracing her. Renee heard him offer words of comfort, and she detected no judgment. She also heard a cautious acceptance in his voice, although she wasn't certain if that was linked to Vivian's admission of her inability to care for the children, or did it extend to.... Renee blinked, then gazed at the clock; it was almost ten. She had work in the morning, best that they wrap up this night and.... Then Renee found Sam's eyes upon her, that inviting ocean just inches away. There was no doubt in her mind as to what he wanted, but was it fair, not only to those children at St. Francis', but to Beth and Roy, even if they weren't living. Was it right that they had died, and here were Sam and Renee stepping into their places as if.... Renee couldn't look away from Sam's eyes in the same way she hadn't been able to stop staring into the sky on the Fourth of July. Was it fair that Eric turned into a creature, was it right that Lynne and Jane were alone, was there anything at all equitable about any of these situations?

Then Renee inhaled something familiar, yet she couldn't place the scent. It wasn't that of church, her house, or from work. Breathing again, she concentrated. She gazed at her blouse, then to her left shoulder, where Ann had fallen asleep. It was the smell of a child, perhaps the scent of Ann's pajamas, or of her copious tears. Renee's shirt had been soaked, but now it was dry, still the smell lingered, yet it wasn't offensive, even if Ann had been so disconsolate. Renee's heart stirred from that thought, then it began to pound, but was that indeed God's will? She gazed at Sam, his eyes still so blue and open, the slight nod of his head making her shiver. He was amenable to this notion, a family just down the hall waiting for them. Then Renee looked at Vivian. Her aged eyes beseeched Renee's agreement.

But would this further harm these youngsters, to be uprooted first from Colorado, then to this house, then to.... "What if this makes it worse?" Renee mumbled those words, unsure if she was actually considering Vivian's proposal.

"I've thought about that," Vivian said. "Last night was just the same, so I called some friends. They're grandparents, so I thought they'd get the kids to quiet down." Vivian sighed. "They only lasted an hour, bless their hearts. Ann ran around screaming for her mother while Paul just curled in the corner of the couch, wouldn't let any of us near him. After Bob and Mona left, I sat on the sofa, wondering what I was gonna do. Finally Ann cried herself out on the floor while Paul fell asleep sort of cuddled near me. But he wouldn't let me hold him, goodness knows I tried. Yet tonight, and while I know Ann still cried the whole time, they let you two hold them. They haven't allowed anyone to hold them, not in Colorado or here. I called you tonight Renee because no one else was left, and I needed to know. And now they're asleep and it won't be easy, and maybe that's not fair to you two. But they need people they can trust and I saw it tonight. They trusted both of you. Don't ask me why, not that you're not good people, but nobody else has been able to hold them, nobody but you."

Again Renee's breathing grew choppy, for that scent stirred a memory, many of them, but the strongest was that of presenting Lynne and Eric with their newborn daughter. How sacred was that moment, and only an hour or so ago had Renee been the unwitting recipient of a similar gift. The knowledge of that blessing washed over her as tears fell down her face, both for Vivian's words and that awareness. Some things in this life weren't at all fair, but that didn't negate the rightness, even if it seemed unbalanced. Renee stood, although her legs were shaky. She glanced again at the clock, it was a few minutes after ten. At a few minutes after ten on the first of October, she had become a mother. Gazing at Sam, she saw him nod, he seemed to realize it too. Then as if Vivian was the attending nurse, Renee went to that woman, who was assisting in a delivery of sorts. Renee knelt beside her, then embraced her. Vivian wept hard, although Renee didn't ponder the reasons. There were many possibilities, but the main one was that of two children being given to their mother and father. Perhaps not the ones who created those little lives, but those destined to care for them for what remained of their youth and beyond. Renee had no idea how long she would live, but for the rest of her days she would be Ann and Paul's mother. That bittersweet notion filled her entire being, losing the sadness and strengthening the joy with every breath Renee inhaled.
Chapter 141

Half an hour later Sam and Renee left Vivian's, an implicit agreement between them all. The children would remain at their aunt's house that evening, none of the adults wishing to disturb their slumber. The Aherns also requested one night to sleep on this decision, although neither could imagine going back on what had been decided. Vivian didn't mind that caveat, but she asked Renee to call her first thing in the morning regardless if the Aherns had changed their minds. Renee had nodded, hugged her friend, then followed Sam to their car. The ride home was in silence, although the Aherns held hands. Sam tried stealing glances at his wife, but he paid attention to the road, although thoughts swirled. Sam and Renee were going to be parents in a manner neither had dreamed.

When reaching their street, Sam slowed considerably. He felt as though once he parked the Chevy, their lives would restart, and part of it would be about selling this car. He smiled, then frowned, wondering if Renee would feel the same; they would need a bigger vehicle, or at least one with four doors. Then Sam winced; Eric had started the painting already, but when he returned, would he want Sam to pose in front of whatever automobile the Aherns were driving? Then Sam shook his head, idling along the road, his house merely yards away.

Seeing where they were he quietly huffed, then put on the brakes, looking at Renee. "I didn't mean anything by that, I was just...." The last thing Sam wanted was for Renee to think he was having second thoughts. The only questionable part was what car would replace this one? Then he smiled, gently hitting the accelerator, pulling into their driveway. He parked, killed the engine, then turned to his wife. "I was thinking about what kind of car to get to replace this one. Renee, I swear, that's all I was...."

"Sam, it's okay." She leaned toward him, stroking his face. Then she moved as close as possible, kissing him. Sam closed his eyes, feeling as if they were in bed making love, making a.... But not just one child, and not twins either. When Renee ended the kiss, she giggled, sounding so young. "Let's go in. We can talk in bed."

Sam nodded, then got out of the car, locking it. He followed his wife into the house, but let Renee lock up. Their abandoned supper still waited in the kitchen, and Sam didn't want to wake to split pea soup in the morning. He dumped it in the trash, then thought about that bear. Vivian never said what she did with it, other than it went in the washing machine. There was much to do, beds to buy in addition to another car, clothes for the kids, toys.... Then Sam turned around, finding Renee standing in the kitchen doorway. Her smile shone, her white-gray eyes wide, also free. She looked changed in some way, then he grew slightly embarrassed. Somehow she resembled Lynne right after that woman had given birth. Renee didn't look exhausted or sweaty, yet her face held some newfound emotion just as powerful as what Lynne had earned through hours of labor. Sam hadn't noticed a new feature upon Eric, only on Lynne. Did Renee see something different now, for she kept staring at her husband. "What?" Sam asked, then he huffed again. "Oh jeez," he began, but before he could say anymore, Renee was at his side, her finger against his lips.

"It's your eyes Samuel, they're, oh my goodness, so blue, I've never seen them this blue." Renee's tone was gentle as if introducing herself. Maybe she was, for now she was a mother and he was a father and.... Sam nodded, although his eyes didn't feel altered. He blinked a few times, which made Renee laugh. Then she kissed him again and he closed his eyes, lost in bliss and warmth and.... Fatherhood, which might be just as unsettling for them as those first couple of weeks were for the Snyders. Then Sam thought about Paul, his small voice blending alongside Sam's as he read that story, one that Paul knew well enough to read along with, or recite what he knew from memory. Which parent had read that book to Paul, then Sam shivered. Those people were dead; how were he and Renee supposed to go about replacing them?

"Sam, there's lots to discuss. But first I wanna...." She whispered in his ear and he nodded without hesitation. Yes, there were many details to sort, but what she desired was equally what Sam needed, much to his surprise. Grasping Sam's hand, Renee turned off the kitchen light, then led him to their bedroom. Tenderly they made love, then wrapped the other close. They fell asleep that way, not considering if it was their last night in that house as only the two of them.

In the morning, Sam woke first, but Renee stirred right after he returned from the bathroom. He waited for her to come back, then they snuggled in bed together. It was only six, and while she had to work, they also needed to confirm what had occurred last night. Sam was even more sure about their decision, but was Renee still of the same mind?

He wanted to speak, but hesitated. He'd given this idea much attention, although in a roundabout way. But Renee had only considered it after Vivian brought it up. Sam cuddled his wife, aware that they wouldn't make love again, but the intimacy was necessary. Then Renee pulled away. "Do you still wanna do this?" she asked.

He nodded. "Do you?"

She smiled, then traced his chest with her finger. "I feel sort of, well...."

"What?"

"Silly. You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

He took a breath, then exhaled. "Yeah, but only a little."

"That's why you weren't keen on looking through the dossiers."

He nodded. "Renee, I know it seems...."

"It's like Eric, you know? That's how blue your eyes were last night, they're still that blue now. The day he left, when I took Jane in the house, I kept looking up, then we stood at the nursery window. He wanted to tell her goodbye, and the sky was so beautiful, just like your eyes." Now she traced around his eyes, and while he wanted to close them, he didn't. He stared at hers, for both of them were altered.

"Sam, what you said last night, about selling the car, you're right. We might need to sell another painting, not the boysenberries, though. I suppose we can sell the landscape. But there's one other thing we need to know and if Vivian says no, well...."

"What?" Sam's pulse raced. Selling the landscape had also popped into his head, but was well down the list. "What else is there?"

"We need to ask if...."

As Renee spoke, Sam sighed. He hadn't even considered that point and felt ashamed. Then he nodded, gripping Renee's hands. One issue could derail all of their plans.

Sam couldn't speak, for his heart now pounded; how did they not think of asking about this last night? Renee got out of bed, put on her robe, then shoved her hands in her pockets. "She knows I need to be at the office early, but I don't wanna disturb them. I'll wait until a quarter to seven. Maybe she'll call us first."

Sam barely nodded, then he cleared his throat, but an ache made him flinch. "You think she'll change her mind?"

Renee shrugged. "I gotta assume she's thought about it, but who knows?" Renee sat next to Sam, then clutched his hands. "Let's pray, that's all we can do."

Before Sam could take another breath, Renee began The Lord's Prayer. Sam joined her, but his voice quivered. Together they said Amen, then Renee stood from the mattress. She set out her hands, which Sam grasped. He stood, and they walked into the kitchen, both staring at the telephone.

Ten minutes later, the phone rang. It was Vivian, Renee mouthed to Sam. "I was just getting ready to call you," Renee said as Sam came to her side.

He couldn't hear Vivian's response, but Renee nodded. "Oh that's good. We're still on board, although we have a question, and we both feel somewhat, well, we should've asked last night. And please know that we'll respect your decision, they're your...." Renee paused and Sam's stomach lurched. "Niece and nephew, and we'll abide by whatever you decide."

Sam wanted to hold his breath until he knew the answer, but inhalations were followed by exhalations as Renee posed their query. Then she was silent for what to Sam felt like forever. Yet, it was probably the most meaningful request connected to this event. Sam took another breath, then felt Renee do the same as she began to speak. He closed his eyes, asking for patience, for peace, for....

"Are you sure?" Renee's tone was shaky and Sam winced. Then he exhaled as Renee's voice grew teary. "Okay, that's all we wanted to know. Uh-huh. Well, I guess we'll proceed however you think's best. Sure. Call me at work, or Sam'll be here today." Then Renee looked at her husband. "You're home today, right?"

He nodded, although he wasn't sure. If he was slated to counsel vets, he'd call the hospital and change his schedule. His schedule was flexible if indeed they were going to....

"Yeah, he's home today. Okay Vivian, we'll be in touch. Yup, okay, bye-bye." Renee hung up the phone, but didn't immediately release the receiver. She stared at her hand, then turned to face Sam, letting go of the phone in the process. Her smile was small, then it filled her face. "She said that of course we can raise them Catholic. Said she thought about it after we left that neither of us had brought it up, but she'd already considered it. Beth and Roy weren't religious but she doesn't have any quarrel with it. Sam, Sam, Sam?"

He didn't realize he was shaking until Renee wrapped her arms around him, nor did he feel his tears until she was kissing them away. All he knew was the biggest sense of relief, more than what he'd felt when Eric's eyes were fully human or when that man had turned up at St. Anne's on Christmas Eve. Then Sam began to wail, inwardly praising God for the woman keeping him in one piece, his faith, and children. Sam Ahern was going to be a father.

Right before Renee left for work, the couple decided to tell Lynne their news. They would wait to call their parents until they had more concrete details to share, yet Sam had mentioned Lynne's comments about keeping an open mind. Renee had smiled, then agreed with Sam's desire to let at least one person in the loop. Sam walked Renee to the Chevy, kissed her, then hugged her once more. He remained on the driveway as she backed out, then he watched her come to a complete stop where last night he had nearly run the stop sign. He laughed as she quickly pulled away, then he walked back to his house, hands in his pockets, a spring in his step.

Once inside, he headed into the kitchen, gazed at the telephone, then he paused. Not that it was too early to call Lynne, but how to announce such news? He glanced at the clock; it was nearly eight, was she on her way to mass? They hadn't talked about it, but Laurie was in Manhattan and Lynne had nothing else going on. Yet, Renee had told Vivian that Sam would be home all day. He tapped his foot, then huffed aloud. The phone rang and he picked up the receiver. "Hello?" he said.

"Oh hi Sam." Lynne's tone was chipper. "I was just wondering if we were meeting for church this morning."

"Oh hi Lynne. Um...." Of all days, Sam should go to mass, so much to celebrate. Yet, what if Vivian called, needing help with.... "Actually, I was gonna call you. Renee and I have something to tell you."

Sam's heart beat so hard, he wondered if Lynne could hear it over the phone; had enough transpired that his statement wouldn't become erroneous? So many details remained; they needed a lawyer, furniture, a new car, not to mention to sell the landscape and.... "Lynne, we're gonna adopt the Hamilton kids." Sam spoke quickly, then hoped he hadn't sounded unduly distressed. "There's so much to tell you and...."

"Oh Sam, my goodness, that's wonderful!"

Happy tears could be discerned from Lynne's end of the line, making Sam shake. "Yeah, it is. But I need to be here today, Vivian might call, needing help. Not sure when I'll get to morning mass again, but...."

"Shall Jane and I come over?"

Sam closed his eyes, feeling a new world order emerge. Always before he had been there to assist Lynne. He smiled, nodding to himself. "That'd be fine. Not sure if I'll get called away while you're here, but I'd love to see you both."

"Just sit tight. We'll be over in about twenty minutes. I'll bring some pie to celebrate."

Sam laughed. "Sounds good. I'll start the custard."

"Wonderful. Oh Sam, I'm so happy for you all. See you soon!"

"Yeah, us too. See you in a bit. Bye." Sam hung up the phone, then smiled widely. He turned to face his kitchen, then paused; did he have eggs? He opened the fridge, scanning the shelves. Then he gazed into the trash, where an empty egg carton sat on top. He and Renee had been starving that morning, and he'd used the last of the eggs for breakfast. He didn't want to add to Lynne's burden, but without eggs, there would be no custard. Picking up the phone, he called the Snyders. "Um, Lynne, do you have eggs?"

She chuckled. "I just bought a dozen. Shall I bring a few with me?"

"Just a couple, thanks," Sam laughed.

"You're more than welcome. Be over soon."

He hung up, then inspected his cupboards. Several staples were low, or missing outright. Sam made a list, although he had no idea when he might get to the store. Then he thought about his work, checking his schedule. He didn't have to be there today, but was slated for a few hours tomorrow morning. Would they miss him, Sam wondered. There was only one way to find out. Again going to the phone, Sam called the hospital, asking to speak to his supervisor. By the time Lynne arrived, not only had Sam freed up the rest of his week, he had called Renee at work, then the head nun at St. Francis'. Both Aherns agreed it was best to let that woman know as soon as possible. The nun had understood, only requesting that the Aherns return the dossiers at their earliest convenience. After closing that conversation, Sam packaged up those folders, then welcomed Lynne and Jane with coffee and milk. Lynne fell into tears, Sam shedding a few too. Jane laughed at them both, then asked for pie. Lynne administered that treat while Sam made custard, providing Lynne with an abridged version of last night's events. Then he cleared his throat. "You might think this's silly, but it wasn't until this morning we wondered if Vivian might not want us to, you know...."

"What?" Lynne asked, looking Sam's way.

He stirred the custard, then turned off the burner. "Raise them Catholic. It never came up, but Vivian said it was fine."

"You had plenty to consider last night," Lynne smiled. "So what happens next?"

Sam sat beside her, then clasped his hands together, putting them on the table. "Well, we need a lawyer, then we need to tell them, and get some beds and...." He sighed, then stared around the room. "So much's gonna change, makes me dizzy thinking about it all."

Lynne nodded, then placed her hands on his. "But they're good changes. And yeah, it's a lot at first. But most important is what you did last night. Some parts will be difficult. But God is with you and Renee, this's meant to be."

"Yeah he is, and yeah, oh jeez." Sam stared at the doorway. "I need to call Stanford, we'll probably wanna sell the landscape." Then Sam looked at Lynne. "Renee might need to quit work for a while, only until Ann's feeling...." He sighed, but joy overwhelmed him. "Vivian said we're the only ones who could hold them. Ann was squirming in Vivian's arms when we got there, screaming her head off. And she kept crying in Renee's arms, but I watched them, at least until Paul was quiet enough that I could read to him. Ann didn't fight being in Renee's arms, just laid her head on Renee's shoulder and...." Sam stopped, for the image wouldn't leave him. "Their hair Lynne, it's the exact same color. I kept looking at the way Ann's hair fell onto Renee's shoulder like it was Renee's hair, but I knew it wasn't, Renee's is so short now. And I like it short, it looks good on her, but it was like she'd grown it out, the same exact shade of red." Sam's lip trembled, then he smiled. "Ann held onto Renee so tightly, didn't stop crying until she fell asleep, but she didn't let go either. Yeah, it's gonna be rough, but that's okay." Then Sam gripped Lynne's hand. "They're my kids Lynne, maybe that sounds strange, but I know they are."

Lynne wore a knowing smile. "It's not strange at all Sam, just different."

"Yeah, different. Oh, better check the custard." Sam stood, then looked at the stove. "Guess I did turn it off, jeez, I feel like if my head wasn't screwed on, I'd lose it."

"Welcome to parenthood," Lynne giggled.

Sam glanced at her, chuckling as he did so. Then he laughed, joined by Lynne and Jane. Once all were calm, Sam dished up three bowls of custard. They ate in peaceful silence, only broken by Jane asking for more pie.
Chapter 142

Before Lynne left, she asked if she could do Sam's shopping. At first he refused, but Lynne laughed, saying it was only fair. Once the Snyder ladies departed with a list, Sam called his brother Ted, seeking prayers and advice. Ted knew of a good lawyer, one of his parishioners. Sam took that man's name and phone number and if Renee was amenable, they would call him tomorrow.

Lynne and Jane dropped off groceries and Sam put away the perishables, then he vacuumed the two spare bedrooms. Maybe they would put both children in one, just until they were comfortable. He gazed at the stark walls, wishing Eric was around; he could paint a vibrant mural for.... Sam shook his head. He didn't know Ann or Paul's middle names or their birthdays, yet he ached to see them again. How could such a strong tie be forged in one evening? Then he shook his head; he'd felt drawn to these children since learning their parents were dead. How would they accept moving to another house, then living with strangers only because someone told them these people were now their mommy and daddy? Children from an orphanage would have rejoiced at this news, and while a period of adjustment still would have occurred, the transition would be less traumatic. Plus, Ann was so little. Sam and Renee had decided that five was the youngest age they would consider. Sam closed his eyes, recalling Ann's hair along Renee's shoulder. Would Ann remember her real mother? Then Sam shivered. Renee was Ann's real mother. He knew that like he knew his name.

The ringing telephone stirred Sam from his reverie. He ran to the kitchen. "Hello?" he said somewhat breathlessly into the receiver.

Immediately tears were heard on the other end. "Sam, it's Vivian. Can you come over?"

"I'll be right there." He hung up, relieved that Vivian had spoken calmly. But Ann sounded terribly distraught, and Sam hoped Paul wasn't equally upset. Grabbing his keys and wallet, Sam headed to his front door, locking it behind him. He got into the old car, backed out slowly, then drove with care to the end of his street. He looked both ways at the stop sign, then floored it, only one place on his mind.

When he reached Vivian's house, he didn't bother to knock, having heard Ann's shrieks as soon as he exited his car. Yet for one moment he hesitated, wondering if his presence would actually improve the situation. If nothing else, Vivian wouldn't be alone, and Sam opened the door, finding Ann in Vivian's arms, although the girl was squirming to be set down. But Paul was seated on the sofa and he smiled at Sam, that same book in the boy's hands.

A wave of peace settled all through Sam, then he faced Vivian. "Here, let me have her."

"Good luck," Vivian sighed. "She's been miserable all morning."

Sam wanted to know if Ann had asked for her mother, although he didn't mean Renee. But Sam remained quiet, placing Ann against his shoulder, stroking her hair. She still struggled, but her cries lessened, and within a minute she was merely sniffling. Sam wondered if Jesus was standing nearby soothing this child, or maybe Josh Bradley was close, calling to Ann in his easy southern drawl. Sam whispered Ann's name, and that it would be all right. Then he found Vivian's gaze, or rather her gaping mouth. As Paul asked Sam to join him, Sam nodded at Vivian, then he gave a small shrug. Vivian smiled. "You want some coffee?" she said softly.

"Yes please." Then Sam looked at Paul, who still held the book. "Do you think you can read it to your sister?"

Paul looked surprised, then nodded. "I can try."

"That's all any of us can do." Sam chuckled as he spoke, walking to the sofa while Ann remained nestled against his shoulder. Sitting beside Paul, Sam considered putting Ann on his lap, but she seemed happy where she was. She wasn't heavy, a little younger than Helene, and she felt at home leaning against him, how Jane seemed when she rested there. Yet in the back of Sam's head Jane had never seemed this permanent. She was Lynne and Eric's baby, but Ann was definitely an Ahern.

Ann Ahern, Paul Ahern; Sam rolled those names through his head, then looked up at Vivian, who carried two mugs. She placed Sam's in the middle of the coffee table, but didn't relinquish her own. She sat on the sofa, and as she did, Ann stiffened. "It's okay," Sam crooned softly. Ann relaxed, then sniffled again.

"She woke up asking for...." Vivian mouthed Renee. Then Vivian smiled. "She didn't say her name though."

For a second, Sam didn't understand. Then he gave Vivian a curious stare. "How do you know she meant...."

Vivian just nodded, then took a deep breath. As she exhaled, Ann snuggled against Sam's shoulder. He closed his eyes, wondering why this was happening so seamlessly, as though this was how children were absorbed from one family to another. Ann lifted her head, looking at her aunt, but only for a moment. Then she met Sam's eyes, and he lost his breath. The tiniest smile sat on her face, and her irises, while blue, looked pale in comparison to her brother's. Ann's appeared more grey, like those of.... Sam blinked, but Ann's gaze remained on him, those blue-grey eyes large in her little face. It must be her hair, he thought, which hung past her shoulders, a little longer than Jane's, but thicker, with less of a wave. Her nose was but a smidgen between rosy cheeks, her mouth still in that half-grin. "Hello," Sam said softly. "How are you today?"

She didn't answer, although Paul sighed. "She's been a crab all morning."

Sam looked that boy's way. "She has, huh? I wonder why."

"She missed you and your...." Paul fiddled with the book's cover. "What's your name again?"

Sam glanced at Vivian, wondering if she had said anything to either child. She looked slightly nervous, then she shrugged. "Paul, this is Sam, and his wife is Renee." Vivian cleared her throat, then continued. "Paul, Sam and Renee would like to take you and Ann home to live with them."

Once again Ann buried her head against Sam's shoulder while Paul set the book on the coffee table, then stood from the sofa. He was smaller than Johnny, his brown hair cut short, but a cowlick in front might be the reason. Sam studied the youngster, who was staring right at Sam. The boy's eyes were the same color as Jane's, which made Sam blink. Looking again, the hue was unmistakable. Freckles dotted Paul's face, now with a serious gaze. "Why do you want us to come live with you?" he asked in a solemn voice.

"Because...." Sam felt as though peering into a mirror. It was Paul's eyes, he knew, but the cowlick seemed familiar, not that Sam recalled having one. He'd been bald for so many years, but maybe when he was this child's age he'd had one; he'd have to ask his mother or Frannie. Then Sam smiled. "We know about your folks," Sam said softly, stroking Ann's head. "We also know it's hard when you feel alone. My wife and I don't have any children, but we have lots of brothers and sisters with kids, so we know how good it is to be in a big family. We'd like to make you a part of our family, if you'd like that."

Ann said nothing, but she gripped the side of Sam's arm so hard it felt more like a pinch. Sam wasn't sure if that was intentional, but she didn't lift her head, seemed to be rubbing her nose against his shirt. Sam wondered if their old washing machine would be up to the task, more laundry another consideration. Then he gazed at Paul, who seemed to be mulling over Sam's statement. Then the boy sighed, looking past Sam at Vivian. "Do you not want us here?"

"Oh Paul, I do. But Sam and Renee...."

"We love you," Sam blurted. Then he sighed inwardly. "Maybe that sounds strange, I mean, we just met last night. But...." Sam looked at the little boy, who didn't remind Sam of Robbie Carver. Paul's hair was brown, but the cowlick was so singular, and his eyes made Sam glance at the floor. But he felt the weight of Paul's gaze. Their eyes met and Sam blinked away tears as he reached for Paul's hand. Gently Sam squeezed those small fingers and within seconds Paul reciprocated. "I know it's been very hard for you and your sister recently. Lots has changed, but we'd like to take you to our house to live." Sam smiled as Paul again gripped his hand. "Do you like custard?"

"What's that?" Paul said.

"Well, it's like pudding. I like to cook and it's something I fix for dessert."

"I've never had it." Paul released Sam's hand, then folded his arms over his chest. "Is it good?"

"Mine is very good," Sam smiled.

Ann looked up, then stared at Sam. "Do you make ice cream? I like ice cream."

Vivian stifled a giggle while Sam shook his head, trying to keep a straight face. He also wanted to somehow record this moment, wishing Renee was there. "I've never made ice cream, but we could try. What kind do you like?"

"Strawberry." Ann's tone was definitive. Then she furrowed her brow. "Where's...." She looked around the room, glancing briefly at Vivian, then staring again at Sam. "Where is she?"

"You mean my wife, Renee?" Sam trembled inwardly.

Slowly Ann nodded, then she trembled. "No, my...."

She placed her head against Sam's shoulder, then she whimpered. Sam wasn't sure what she meant, or rather for which mother was she searching. He glanced at Vivian, who shrugged, then Sam gazed at Paul, who had picked up the book, paging through it. Sam again caressed Ann's hair, it was even the same texture of Renee's. He ached to know which mother Ann wanted, Beth, he was certain. Yet, Ann peered up, then looked at Sam. "Is Renee my mama?"

Her voice was a soft wind that had sometimes blown over Sam's face in the middle of battle, easing his racing heart, cooling his fiery temper. It was the tone of an angel, he had thought back then, ministering to him in a most desperate moment. Sam had never questioned those small miracles, for he knew God worked in mysterious ways. Similarly, Sam didn't hesitate now. "Yes, Renee's your mama and she loves you very much. She's at work right now, but when you come live with us, she'll be home to take care of you. You too Paul. And I'll be home a lot, and we'll make custard together."

"And ice cream," Paul added. "I like chocolate."

"I like chocolate too." Sam smiled. "Do you like pie?"

Ann had been ready to set her head back on Sam's shoulder, but she leaned up, then stared at him. "Who makes pie?"

Paul laughed. "Ann loves pie. Our...." The little boy grew teary. Then he plopped onto the floor, putting his head in his hands.

Vivian stood, then collected Paul, who was now crying. They sat beside Sam and Ann, but Paul didn't move from his aunt's grasp. "Beth baked," Vivian whispered.

"But she's dead," Paul warbled. Then he looked at Sam. "Are you gonna die too?"

"Someday." Sam took a breath, then let it out slowly. "But I'm here today and Renee will come over after work and for as long as we live, we'll take care of you." He wanted to be more lyrical, yet they were so young. Then Sam thought of Johnny, who had cried over the twins, sometimes remarking to Sam that he would see them again. But Sam didn't know if Paul had any knowledge of heaven. Suddenly parenthood took on deeper meaning; it wasn't merely within this corporeal realm that Sam and Renee would care for these children. "One day we'll all be together in a place so beautiful and perfect. Right now we can make this day as wonderful as possible, even though I know there's parts that hurt." Sam reached for Paul's face, streaked with tears. As Sam wiped away that wetness, a sting pierced his heart. But this wasn't like consoling Jane or any of his other young relatives. This was the first pang of fatherhood, realizing he couldn't erase the ills his children would suffer. One of the biggest had occurred even before he had the capacity to soothe it.

"But what if, what if...." Paul tried to hold back sobs, then he turned to his aunt, burying his face against her.

Sam inhaled, praying as he did so. Exhaling, he spoke the words placed upon his heart. "Paul, all we can do is be together today. Then we'll wake up tomorrow and do it all over again. There's a school just a few blocks from where Renee and I live. We'll walk there together, and I'll be waiting when you get out, then we'll walk home again. And Ann can join us and...."

"And what about Mama?" Ann asked. "Will she be there too?"

Paul looked at his sister, uncertainty in his eyes. "She's not our mama."

"She's my mama," Ann said, glaring at her brother.

Sam had to bite his tongue for the brassiness of Ann's tone, also the defiance of Paul's. Gazing at the little boy, he also saw the desire to believe what Ann took as fact. Then Paul sighed. "They're not coming back, are they?"

Vivian stroked Paul's head. "No, they're not. But Sam and Renee love you very much."

"Sam and Mama," Ann said.

"It's Mama and Daddy." Paul corrected his sister, then he stared at Sam. "Are you sure about tomorrow?"

"I'm as sure as I can be. I have to trust that God will take care of all of us."

Paul nodded, then looked at his aunt. "Who's God?"

Vivian rolled her eyes, making Sam smile. "That's a long story. I'm sure Sam and Renee can tell you all about it, I mean him." Vivian tried to smooth down Paul's cowlick, but it sprang right back up. "Listen, tonight you'll sleep here, Sam and Renee need to get their house ready for you both."

"No, I want Mama, I want...." Ann began to cry.

Sam pulled her close, rocking her back and forth. He looked toward Vivian, who nodded as if it was Sam's call. "We don't have beds for you yet. But we'll be here today, well, Renee will come over after work. How about Aunt Vivian and I show you the house? We can walk to the school and I have custard at home, I made it this morning. You can try it and tell me what you think." Sam's heart throbbed, but he smiled. "Then tomorrow night you can sleep at our house." He wasn't sure how he would buy beds if he was here all day, but perhaps if Ann napped later, Sam could run to the furniture store. He needed to call Stanford and that lawyer and....

But first, he needed to embrace his children, as Paul scrambled from Vivian's arms, muscling his way onto Sam's lap. Ann protested, but Paul ignored her, scooting to Sam's other side. The boy curled against Sam as Ann quieted, then both children began to weep, yet the sound wasn't painful. Sam comforted them with strong embraces and verbal reassurances; he loved them and couldn't wait to take them home. One more day, Sam promised. Then Paul and Ann would go home.
Chapter 143

On that same day in New York, Laurie spent most of his morning tied up in meetings, both with sculptors and gallery staff. That afternoon he shared a boozy lunch with one of his favorite clients, and when he stepped out of the taxi in front of his building, he had to pay attention to his footing. He was drunk, yet he didn't care. He'd only been home a day and a half and already the strain of lying to Stanford was a burden.

Getting into the elevator, Laurie closed his eyes. As it stopped at his floor, he steadied his feet, then slowly walked out, heading along the corridor focusing on the dark carpet. Then he looked up; his door was next, yet he wasn't sure if he could face Agatha. He was lying to her as well, for Stan hadn't been able to keep Eric's whereabouts a secret. Laurie had bitten his tongue when Stanford revealed that, and of course now Stan wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Gripping the door handle, Laurie wished the apartment was empty. Agatha would see he'd had too many gin and tonics, and while she wouldn't question him, her awareness would be enough of reprimand.

He entered the apartment, leaving his coat on the rack next to the door. The weather was chilly, which had surprised him. All those months in Florida had woven into him the notion that summer lasted forever, or perhaps it was those few days in the West where temperatures had also been mild. Laurie missed Lynne and Jane, he ached for honesty. As he wandered into the living room, then approached the dining room, the ache became more fierce. Yet, it wasn't solely connected to those women; it was the magnitude of deception growing day by day.

Standing near the kitchen door, Laurie shivered. Could he tell Agatha, would she think him crazy? She'd be more understanding than Stan, or at least she'd put up less of an argument. Laurie smiled at himself, how brazen to even consider such nonsense. This had to remain for him alone to shoulder, not that Eric residing in an institution was much better. Which was worse, Laurie wondered. Then he laughed, for he was still tipsy; actually, he wasn't at all sober. More troubling was his desire for another drink. Perhaps if he was totally smashed, he could tell both Stan and Agatha and neither would believe a word he said.

At least it would be off his chest. He laughed again, then swung the door wide open, finding Agatha staring at him, hands on her hips. "What in the world's gotten into you?" she said, a southern inflection in her tone.

"Hello there!" Laurie matched her voice with a flourish of his own. "Just had one helluva lunch date, you know me." He swaggered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter near the refrigerator. He needed to keep this light, he couldn't dwell on reality. Reality was too close to fantasy, which again made him cackle. "So what's happening around here?"

Agatha kept her hands on her hips, her mouth turned to a scowl. "You're drunk," she said sharply.

"Indeed I am. Thank God I don't drive." He smiled broadly, but his head ached and if he didn't sit down, he might fall on his butt. He clutched the counter, holding his grin by force. "Don't tell Stan, it'll piss him off to no end."

"Don't worry, he's got enough to consider already." She shook her head, then turned toward the stove. She tapped her foot as if every step was a dagger directed straight at Laurie. He kept smiling, but could feel her anger, and he wished she would actually throw something his way. He deserved it, at least for how drunk he was. But the rest wasn't his fault. He couldn't tell either of them. To do so would be....

Agatha turned to face him. "Why'd you get so...." She nearly growled. "My goodness Laurie, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, can't you tell?" He sighed, feeling guilty for her concern, and that she was right. The last thing Stan needed was to come home to Laurie so incapacitated. "Any coffee left?"

"No. Do I need to make some?"

"What do you think?"

Now Agatha stepped his way, her anger lessened. She stroked his face, and he wanted to cry, for her touch was like Lynne's, soothing and kind and.... "I know it's hard honey. You've been gone for ages and while it's so good to be home...."

"He's not and won't be for a while still."

Agatha nodded, then kissed Laurie's cheek. "Neither one of them will and it breaks my heart for Lynne to be alone right now. But you going off the deep end isn't gonna help anyone."

She raised her eyebrows, then headed for the percolator. Laurie blinked away tears, then he stumbled to the table, grasping the edge. Agatha turned to see him, and she nearly stepped his way. Laurie motioned that he was all right, then pulled out a chair, slowly seating himself.

Within minutes he could smell the coffee, and the scent alone sobered him some. Yet Agatha's anguish reverberated in his head; why had Stan told her? But Laurie knew why, because Stan had needed someone to talk to and this woman was his only sounding board. Or she was the only one able to listen to this kind of news. Stan wouldn't tell his father, not that Michael wouldn't care, but Stan wouldn't wish to burden his dad. Plus Agatha would pray for Eric and Lynne, and while Stan might not have considered that, perhaps subconsciously he knew it was necessary. Laurie permitted a small grin; a little part of Stan's soul was showing.

It certainly wasn't hanging from his sleeve, but Laurie could see Agatha's heart in the way she kept turning back to check on him, in how the coffee was brewing, and in the silence, during which he imagined she was offering prayers on the Snyders' behalf. Yet those petitions weren't honest, or they weren't correct. Agatha's meaning was certainly sincere, but Eric wasn't being treated for depression. He was a catalyst for Seth's possible healing.

Then Laurie trembled; if not for Eric, Seth would be comatose in Miami, maybe for the rest of his life. Laurie couldn't even give Eric the proper appreciation; to do so would open a can of worms that no one here could fathom. Not even Agatha, Laurie sighed, as she brought him a cup of coffee. "Let this cool or you'll burn your tongue," she said softly. Then she leaned over, kissing the top of his head. Laurie smiled; it was like he had two mothers, one Jewish, one Negro. My God, he thought to himself, how do I even tie my own shoes?

He chuckled, which made Agatha look his way. "What?" she asked.

"Just that I'm a lucky man."

"And why's that?"

He sipped the coffee, then leaned back in his chair, laughing. "Why do you think? Here you are, getting my drunk ass sober, keeping watch on both me and Stan. Thank the lord we have you Agatha, or we'd go right to hell."

"You watch that language Lawrence." But her tone was light. Then she wagged her finger at him. Taking a deep breath, she sighed loudly, joining him with her own cup of coffee. "How was Lynne and don't you lie to me."

Laurie had been taking a sip and he nearly spat it out. "Oh Christ," he blurted, then coughed. Agatha patted his back, but more to bother Laurie was how he'd burned his tongue. And now another lie would be concocted. For assuming that Eric was locked away somewhere, Lynne should be quite beside herself. Yet, she had been relatively strong, if not weepy, but that was due to the baby. "She's...." He hesitated, then stared at the woman across. Which person was harder to lie to, he then wondered, for once the falsehood had been introduced, Stan hadn't required additional layers. But Agatha wanted details and as Laurie hedged, her eyes grew wide, then she gripped his hand.

"Just tell me Laurie. I won't write to her, but...." Agatha released Laurie's hand, then wiped her eyes. "I'm so worried about her, about all of them."

Laurie grasped Agatha's hands. "Don't worry, she's okay. The Aherns and her pastor are looking out for her and...." What I would give to be there, he didn't say. "And the baby's fine. That's her biggest concern right now, I mean, there's nothing she can do for Eric, so she's just thinking about Jane and the baby."

Agatha nodded. "Well, she's one of the strongest women I've ever met. God's got his hand on her, on them all. And on Seth too." Agatha wore a small smile. "They'll all be home in his good time soon enough."

"Yeah, soon enough." Laurie smiled, but it made him shiver. He released Agatha's hands, then took a sip of coffee, which removed that chilliness. He put the cup on the table, but still gripped it, the warmth permeating his fingers. "It's cold here, I didn't expect it to be cold already."

"Gonna be a long winter, or maybe it'll just seem that way until everyone's where they're supposed to be." Agatha drank her coffee, then sighed. "Laurie, do you think I should write to her?"

He shrugged, then nodded. "Probably won't hurt." He would have to tell Lynne to expect such a letter, maybe he would call her that evening if Stan gave him a few minutes of privacy. But Stan hadn't let Laurie out of his sight once Agatha went home. Laurie patted Agatha's hand, then smiled. "It's such a strange time, I mean...." He took a long drink, the coffee still hot, making his chest ache as the liquid went down his throat. "Agatha, do you believe in miracles?"

She stared at him, then a slow smile emerged. "I do. Why?"

"I've been thinking about miracles lately, Seth's recovery could be called miraculous, assuming things keep going well. And sometimes other things happen, things that might seem, well, impossible, but they turn out all right. Like," Laurie smiled, "me and Stan."

Now Agatha chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you could describe the two of you like that. Although," she added, "you didn't break the mold."

"Well, no." Laurie laughed out loud. "But here I am, sitting in my kitchen, waiting for him to come home. That's pretty miraculous."

She nodded. "But it is 1963. We got a Catholic in the White House, you know."

"Exactly, talk about miracles." Laurie smiled. "But what about other kinds of miracles, the type that people don't talk about, well, Stan and I are that kind, but I mean really odd events."

"A Catholic president is pretty darn strange Laurie."

"It is, you're right, but eventually we'll have a Negro president."

Laurie kept his voice flat and didn't meet Agatha's gaze. Yet, he knew she was looking at him, her silence piercing. Then she hummed. Now Laurie met her eyes, a sly smile on her face. "I mean," he added, "one of these days it'll happen, not sure if it'll be a woman president or a Negro first, but white men aren't always gonna rule the roost."

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Well if we're talking miracles, maybe a man like yourself one day will sit in the White House."

He raised his eyebrows. "You mean a nice Jewish boy or...."

"Either one," she said.

"That would be a miracle." Then he laughed. "All I'm gonna say is that after nearly four months of living in Florida, I've come to believe in the unexpected. A Catholic president today, who knows what tomorrow?"

He drank his coffee, but knew she was staring at him again. Why had he brought that up, was he laying groundwork for later? Maybe if she ever mentioned this conversation, he'd say he was still drunk. But Agatha's coffee was a marvel in itself; with each sip, Laurie felt a little better. Or the truth didn't seem as heavy. Maybe when Stan came home, Laurie wouldn't be inebriated, and while he'd have to call Lynne, Agatha might be less concerned.

He turned her way, then he inwardly trembled. Her eyes held so much understanding and compassion. Not that she was a saint, but she carried no prejudices, or none that Laurie ever felt. He wasn't so naive to presume she'd never experienced bias, of course she did, probably every day. Yet she wasn't bitter, although she didn't suffer fools. But was she open-minded enough to embrace....

"How is he, really?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. Laurie knew she didn't mean his cousin and his throat grew tight. Averting his eyes, he nodded.

Agatha hummed again, then she inhaled deeply. She exhaled, then tapped her foot. "Do I not need to write to Lynne?"

"Not about Eric." Laurie ached to spill his guts. Then he faced Agatha. In her astute eyes, he knew he didn't have to offer the actual truth. But he also didn't need to continue the charade Stan believed. "Write to her about...." Then Laurie smiled. "The Aherns are gonna adopt a child. I know she'd love to share that happiness." He wasn't sure which child, maybe those Hamilton orphans. He swallowed hard, then finished his coffee. As the last drink hit his stomach, all traces of drunkenness disappeared. His mind was clear, his reflexes were sharp, and his heart no longer seemed so pained. Laurie took a deep breath, which felt healing. Then he smiled. "She's okay, they're all good, really. But...."

"I won't say anything to Stanford. But Laurie, if you can, be honest. Eventually he's gonna find out the truth."

Laurie flinched. Whatever Agatha thought couldn't be anywhere close to what was factual, nor could Laurie insinuate such a revelation to a man whose world was white and black. And a little bit Jewish, then Laurie chuckled inwardly. Yet there was no room within Stanford's temperament to brook such outlandish notions. Not that Agatha would permit what was happening in Florida as reality but.... She had faith, and from her faith came possibilities, like miracles. Or maybe her faith alone was miraculous. Laurie wouldn't ponder that, he was just now feeling sober. "Is there another cup in the pot?" he asked.

"There is."

As Agatha went to stand, Laurie got to his feet first. He retrieved the percolator, filling both of their cups. She smiled as he retook his seat, then they quietly drank their coffee. Then Agatha began humming, her melodious tune calming Laurie's heart. He hoped that song remained in Eric's memories, easing the difficult times that lay ahead.
Chapter 144

On Thursday morning Renee didn't get right out of bed. Sam snored beside her, for which she was glad; they had gotten home late last night, but not because Ann had been tearful or Paul was upset. Once they had put the children to bed at Vivian's, the Aherns had gone to see Sam's folks, then Renee's. Now that Renee thought about it, she wondered if yesterday had been extended by several hours for all that had occurred. Most had been tackled by Sam while Ann napped; beds and dressers would be delivered that afternoon, toys and clothes waited in the other bedroom, boxes Vivian had mailed to her house while still in Colorado, most of which had yet to be opened. Renee had pondered that when she had a free moment, which had been while she rocked Ann, who had remained in Renee's grasp nearly all night until that little girl fell asleep over Renee's shoulder. Vivian had used her time in Colorado wisely, sending home just about all of the children's possessions. Yet both kids had lived out of suitcases for the last week, as though their stay at Vivian's was a stopover. Renee hadn't had time to ask if this had been Vivian's plan all along, nor was Renee sure if that idea needed to be mentioned. When Renee stepped over the Kramer threshold last night, Ann ran to her, calling her Mama. Renee had nearly turned around, checking if Beth Hamilton's ghost had followed her inside. But Ann meant Renee, and she had grabbed Renee's knees until Renee picked her up, where immediately Ann placed her head on Renee's shoulder. Supper was eaten with Ann on Renee's lap, although Paul had sat very close to Sam. Paul didn't call Sam Daddy, but that title seemed apt, for Paul looked so much like Sam, their eyes the same shade of blue, and that cowlick similar to one Sam had ages ago. Renee had examined a childhood photo of her husband when they went to tell Joe and Marjorie the news, and sure enough Sam had possessed a cowlick in nearly the same spot where Paul's hair twirled up from his scalp. Renee hadn't wondered if that meant Paul would go prematurely bald, only taking it as one more sign that these children were meant to be Aherns.

All of Sam and Renee's parents were thrilled for the couple, as was Ritchie, who was playing cards with his dad when Sam and Renee reached the Nolan home. Ritchie was also drunk, but that had been overlooked, for the Aherns' news was so wonderful, also startling; it was the first Marie and Gene had heard of the Hamiltons, and while Marie had shot her daughter some curious glances, Ritchie's presence had negated the bigger question from being asked. Of course Renee hadn't said anything to her folks, they had enough to deal with already. And it had happened so fast, Sam had said more than once; he still needed to call the lawyer his brother had recommended, to which Gene had smiled, pleased the attorney was Catholic. Then Eugene Nolan had wiped away tears, embracing Renee, whispering how happy he was for her, that she would make a fantastic mother, but he'd always known that. As Renee pulled away, she wanted to address her father's unexpected openness, but then Ritchie nearly fell while walking into the kitchen. Sam steadied him, then Marie joined those men. Renee had heard another beer being opened and she and Sam made their goodbyes soon afterwards. Yet Ritchie's relapse didn't cloud their thoughts; too much joy swirled.

In the stillness, occasionally broken by Sam's drones, Renee inhaled that happiness, even if the kids were still at Vivian's. All day at work Renee had considered why God had brought this blessing to her and Sam, a huge gift with some rough edges. Renee hadn't been sure if Ann would still feel drawn to her, yet last night there was no hesitation. It was as if Beth and Roy had been surrogate parents, shouldering all the difficult moments related to pregnancy, birth, and infants. Then they had slipped away, handing over the next phase of child-rearing to.... Renee blinked away tears, uncertain if she deserved this treasure. But she must, for here it was, already in her house and tightly sewn into her heart. She ached to see Ann and Paul, rued having to work even the half day for which she was scheduled. Dr. Howard had been accommodating, yet Renee wondered if his eagerness was in part to get his main nurse back in the office. The children had visited this house yesterday, would sleep there that night. Tomorrow, while Renee and Sam started easing themselves into parenthood, Vivian Kramer would return to work, and while that practice might be shorthanded for the interim, the senior nurse would hold everything together. Unless Nurse Ahern turned into a full-time mom.

Sam wasn't ruling that out, and would call Stanford that morning about selling the landscape. They hadn't used all the money earned by the three hawks to buy the Chevy, but Renee was going to be home more than they had originally speculated. Ann needed a mother's presence, and while Paul would be enrolled in school, perhaps as soon as next week, Sam couldn't care for the house and children on his own. Renee wasn't worried about that aspect, especially after her father's comment last night. He had always known she would be a good mother, yet how? Maybe he'd only said it because it was what people were supposed to say. But her father's damp face spoke far more than his words; Gene never wept. Perhaps Ritchie had something to do with it, yet Renee couldn't get her father's tender tone from her mind, how strongly he'd hugged her, how assured he had seemed. That confidence now filled Renee's heart and she wiped away tears. Then she got out of bed, heading to the bathroom. The house was quiet, but only for this day.

Tomorrow.... She giggled, returning to her bedroom where Sam was just starting to stir. His mumbles were low, making Renee smile; their home would never again be so still. Getting back into bed, Renee snuggled beside Sam, who instinctively put his arms around her. They merely cuddled, but it felt so good that Renee wondered how many other changes waited on the horizon. These children would alter not only their lives, but those of their families. Maybe that might seem impossible; how many grandkids already graced these two clans, but Renee didn't expect any of her siblings or Sam's would add more. And while Ann and Paul weren't babies, they weren't very old; how would they blend in with those their age, like Helene and Johnny? Then Renee giggled. "I wonder what Jane will think of them."

Sam chuckled. "Been thinking that myself. She gets along well with Helene, hopefully she and Ann will hit it off the same."

"I think Paul and Johnny will be good friends." Renee sighed in contentment. "Sam, depending on how much Stanford can sell the painting for...."

"Been thinking about that too. Ann needs you and while I know we weren't planning on that sort of, well...." Sam cleared his throat. "At least for the next few months, if you could be here, I mean...."

Renee nodded. "This might sound funny, but I don't wanna go back to work until she's in school." Renee took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "We'll see what we can afford. And how they adjust. Maybe it won't be that hard of a transition, sure been easy so far."

Then Renee bit her tongue, and she crossed herself. Right before bedtime, Ann had called Sam Daddy, although Renee didn't think Sam looked anything like Roy Hamilton. She hadn't gotten a good look at him when she brought over the bear, but he'd been taller than Sam, and of course had a full head of hair. Maybe Ann thought Renee was her mother simply because Renee and Beth were both redheads. But Renee recalled Beth's response to when Vivian had mentioned if the couple would have more children. Roy would have do it, Beth had laughed, a little sarcasm in her tone. Renee shivered; that had been merely months ago and now that woman was....

"It hasn't been too hard," Sam said softly, like he'd read Renee's mind. "But I'm not gonna assume it'll keep going this smoothly. Best that you're here for however long both kids need you." Sam kissed Renee's forehead. "In fact, I'll go call Stanford now. I think I have his work number, or I can call Lynne for it."

Sam started to move, but Renee gripped him. "Don't go yet." She burrowed against him, wondering if this was real. She knew it was, but it also seemed as inexplicable as other recent events. Was it fair that they were benefitting from such tragedy, and what about Lynne, carrying Eric's baby, living with only Jane? Yet, whatever child they might have chosen from St. Francis' would have experienced some issues, settling into this home with people they hardly knew who were suddenly to be called Mommy and Daddy. Ann and Paul would have their aunt nearby, plus Ann was much younger than any orphan previously considered. It had been over three weeks since Beth Hamilton had died, three weeks for one little girl to wake each day without the comfort of her.... That word, so painful before, now floated in Renee's head; she was someone's mama, yet how? In what odd manner had that little girl transferred such a beloved title from one woman to another, regardless of hair color or any other feminine trait. Why in the world did Ann so fiercely believe Renee was her mother?

Renee employed that particular adverb due to Ann's grip on Renee's knees, how Ann laid her head upon Renee's shoulder, and how that child insisted to sit on Renee's lap during supper. The only time Renee hadn't held Ann was when Renee needed the bathroom, but as soon as Renee opened the door, Ann met her in the hallway, demanding to be back in Renee's grasp. Renee contrasted that with the little girl she'd only seen for moments when returning the bear, held in her father's arms, red hair blowing in the breeze. She had missed her favorite plaything, but not until nearly the family's last night before leaving.

What kind of child had Ann been before, or Paul, Renee mused, still pressing her face against Sam's chest. His pajama top precluded her from reaching his skin, but that was all right, Renee didn't wish to be intimate. She wanted answers that were impossible to ascertain, maybe as inexplicable as why Eric was in Miami. But that was Lynne's existence, which made Renee pull away from Sam. The Aherns had never experienced any sort of otherworldly machinations; theirs was a rather staid existence, other than what Lynne and Eric proffered. But at times life took twists and turns that couldn't be rationally explained except by Godly providence. If Eric could turn into a hawk, anything was possible.

But still troubling to Renee was how readily Ann had substituted her into a role that for over three years had belonged to a completely different woman. Paul's wariness was far more credible, although he too seemed relieved for the idea of two parents over one elderly aunt. But Ann had laid claim upon Renee as if she had raised Ann from the start. Would that swapping of mothers later haunt Ann, might she one day turn to Renee and refuse to acknowledge her? What if Beth reappeared, not like that would occur, but what might happen to the psyche of a child if....

"Renee, we have to take this on faith." Sam's tone was again as though he knew her thoughts. "It's just like Lynne right now, she's gotta believe...." Sam paused, then sighed. "It's not gonna be simple calling Stanford, I'm sure he's gonna, well, not ask but infer about Eric. Boy, I hope Laurie's okay."

"Whatdya mean?" Renee stared at her husband. "Do you think Stanford would actually ask about Eric?"

"Probably not, since Laurie's home. Goodness only knows what he's told him. But honey, we've had firsthand knowledge of how mysterious life can be." Sam trembled slightly, then he sighed. "Do I wish the Hamiltons were still alive, I can't honestly say. What I can tell you without a doubt is that Paul and Ann are our kids. Ann has your hair and eyes, your...."

"My eyes?"

Sam smiled, tracing around Renee's crows' feet. "Hers are a little bluer, but so pale, the perfect blend of...." Now he chuckled. "God has his plan Renee. Maybe parts of it are, well, hard to digest, but overall, I'm just so, so...."

Now he paused, but Renee didn't need him to continue. She kissed him, placing her hand over his tender heart. She had always known what a good father he would be, and that aspect of his character was finally being allowed to surface. They cuddled for a few minutes, then she pulled away. Many tasks required their attention for the treasure that was awaiting.

After breakfast, Sam called Stanford, who was floored by the Aherns' request. At first Sam worried that without an exhibit in which to showcase the landscape, the price would be lessened. However, Stanford couldn't conceal his glee, both for the reason for the upcoming sale and what he would price that canvas. Now it was Sam to cough, but as Stanford spoke, Sam quickly took on board how Eric's career had altered. So many Europeans itched to buy any Snyder canvas that the Aherns' painting would garner a sum that made Sam's gut twitch. Yet he was grateful for that alleged amount, which he wouldn't take as fact until the check went into the bank. Then Renee could stay at home until the kids were in college. Relaying that detail made both Aherns go to their knees, prayers said for Ann and Paul first, then for other blessings.

The Aherns spent the rest of that morning on the telephone; Sam called the attorney, then Renee spoke to Vivian, who said the children were in relatively good moods, although Ann asked for her mother every fifteen minutes or so. Paul had asked for Sam by name, but he referred to the Aherns as Mommy and Daddy when he thought Vivian couldn't hear him. Vivian told Renee to come over after lunch, for she wanted to have the children settled at the Aherns' home well before supper. Renee closed the call, then she approached Sam. "So what're you gonna cook tonight?"

He sat at their kitchen table, a notepad in front of him, a pencil in his hand. He stared at her, then looked around the room. "Uh, haven't given that any thought."

Renee sat beside him, grasping his left hand. "I know it'll be our first night here together, but Vivian sounded like she didn't want to share it with us. I think she needs...." Renee had heard fatigue in Vivian's voice, also despondency. She'd wanted to care for the kids, but the sheer weight of such a task had been too much, plus she hadn't had a moment to grieve for her niece. "She needs time by herself," Renee said pointedly. "But I was thinking maybe I'll call Lynne. I'm sure she'd be happy to whip up something, although no pie." Renee frowned, then she brightened. "But she could drop off a meal. Not necessarily stay, I mean, we'll see about that, but the kids need to meet her and Jane and...." Renee trembled, considering her goddaughter alongside those who were rapidly becoming her own offspring. "I know Ann's older, but...."

Sam nodded. "That's a good plan. You call Lynne and I'll start opening boxes. I wanna be able to put their clothes away once the furniture's delivered. Oh jeez, I totally forgot about bedding!"

He slapped his forehead with his right hand, narrowly missing jamming the pencil into his eye. Renee took the pencil, placing it on the table. "I bet Lynne has spare sheets, and if not, she can pick up some for us. Honey, it's gonna be okay. Nothing has to be perfect, you know."

Renee thought about how drunk Ritchie had been last night. Yet, not even that sorrow had dampened their news. "You finish your list, then start with the boxes. I'll call Lynne and...."

Sam grasped Renee's hands. "I love you. I don't know if I've told you that since Vivian called us, jeez, when was that?"

"Two days ago," Renee smiled.

"Two days? Feels like two months!" Then Sam smiled. "I do love you so much honey. Thank you for, well...."

"For what Sam?"

"For putting up with me all these years."

His tone was conciliatory, but Renee felt no bitterness or regret. "Samuel Ahern, you are the silliest man I know, also the best." She kissed his forehead where the pencil lead had almost landed. "Who's put up with who all this time?"

His smile was slow, then he shrugged. "Go call Lynne, I'm almost done here." He picked up the pencil, gazed at the list, then set the pencil back on the table. "Who am I kidding? I can barely think straight. I'll be in the kids' room if you need me."

He stood, then got as far as the doorway before turning around. Renee had started crying as he said kids' room, but she'd tried to stay hushed. Yet Sam's face sported tears too, as this new reality couldn't be ignored. He sat beside her, gripping her. She nodded, stroking his face, heaving silent sobs. Once those were spent, she would call Lynne, and wouldn't apologize for her croaky voice. Lynne wouldn't need an excuse, just as Renee had provided support in the past. But Renee did ponder one query; how long until Ann and Paul tasted a bite of Lynne's signature dessert?

Lunch was baloney sandwiches at the Kramer residence, which Renee felt would become as familiar to her as was the Snyder home. While Vivian needed her solitude, she did love these children, whom she promised to see as often as they liked. Paul seemed more in need of her assurances, yet twice he called Sam Daddy. Ann called Sam by that name without pause and Renee was still Mama. But the children's beds wouldn't be delivered until after two o'clock, and none of the adults wanted the kids present for that. Ann and Paul had endured enough upheaval. When they arrived at the Aherns' later that afternoon, it should be with their bedroom fully prepared.

Renee and Sam had taken two cars so Sam could go back to wait for the delivery men. Renee would stay at Vivian's until Ann took her nap, then Renee would see if Paul required her presence. If he was all right with just his aunt, Renee would run over to the Snyders to help Lynne. She wanted to embrace her best friend and that godchild, whose place within Renee's heart hadn't been lessened. In fact, Renee couldn't wait to introduce Jane to these children, what a trio they would make, with a quartet looming. Renee smiled, her ribcage slightly sore as though it had expanded overnight. Deep breaths were easily accommodated, which made her giggle inwardly; how much more room was inside her now?

For months she had felt strangled until that afternoon in the Snyders' kitchen, right before they returned from New York. That bright light seemed to have sealed up Renee's heart, yet it had been like opening an old tomb, permitting new life to shine on artifacts long forgotten. And now her house was being altered for the two little ones calling for her and Sam as their.... Mommy and Daddy slipped from Paul and Ann as if Renee and Sam had been their parents all along. Renee didn't ponder that, she simply hugged Ann, who sat on her lap. "I love you," Renee said softly, kissing the back of Ann's head.

The little girl turned around, her pale blue eyes wide. "Are you really gonna be my mama now?"

"I am." Renee smiled, tucking loose hairs behind Ann's ears. "Forever and ever."

Ann reached up, then tucked back some of Renee's hairs. "I love you too, forever and ever."

Renee chuckled, unable to stop tears that had snuck into the corners of her eyes, as if waiting for this child all of her life. Then Renee glanced at Sam, who was blinking like something was stuck in his eyes. He reached for her hand, grasping tenderly. Renee nodded, not bothering to wipe her face. Ann was doing it for her, running her small finger along Renee's wet cheeks. "Why are you crying Mama?" Ann asked.

"Because I'm so happy," Renee warbled, then she laughed. "Isn't that silly?"

"I'm happy too," Ann smiled. Then she gripped Renee with all her strength, which wasn't much for a three-year-old, but the most lasting bands were being fastened around Renee. She clutched Ann in an equal hold, but didn't speak. She listened to Paul asking Sam a question, but Paul didn't use Renee's husband's first name. "Daddy, are you all right?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." Sam cleared his throat, then blew his nose. "We just can't wait to take you two home."

"Well first someone needs a nap." Vivian spoke with authority and Renee met her gaze, the women nodding at each other. "Ann, are you done with lunch?"

Ann didn't move, but she nodded. Then she turned to face her aunt. "Thank you for the sandwich."

It was her voice, that of a youngster tinged with a greater knowledge, as if Ann understood all that had occurred in the last few days. Renee heard it, then inhaled that realization, like a new aspect of Ann's character was being forged. Whoever she had been was being rewritten, for amidst confusion, this little girl could appreciate generosity shown. Renee set that away for later; she could discuss it with Sam that night in bed, or in a few days or weeks even. Gratitude was a wonderful trait to possess, one that Jesus taught from his earliest days. Forever Renee would be reminded of that in the guise of these blessings, her and Sam's precious children.
Chapter 145

As Ann and Paul settled into their new home, Stanford presided over a bidding process like none he had ever experienced. While this wasn't as if he represented Picasso, the flurry of prospective buyers had startled not only Stanford, but his father too. Michael expressed fatherly pride and personal pleasure that one of Eric's paintings was so sought after, as well as joy for why this particular canvas was being sold. Stanford was happy for those orphans, but to his slight surprise, he was more pleased for the Aherns. And when the final bid was accepted, the landscape would head to Switzerland, not to a pompous American collector who had dropped out early in the proceedings. Stanford had been thrilled when that man no longer made overtures, and if he ever saw him again, Stanford had half a mind to bring up this sale. Yet, Stanford held his glee in check; he wondered if Eric knew about this. Lynne surely had informed her husband about the Aherns' good fortune, both in becoming parents, then in being made quite wealthy. However, what Eric understood about those events was far beyond Stanford's scope.

He spoke little about it with Laurie, who had expressed his unwillingness to talk about Eric. Laurie didn't even wish to speak about Seth, who was still in Miami, but would probably be home before the end of the year. Sometimes Stanford wondered if Laurie had been away too long; he'd returned so altered, although Stanford had a hard time qualifying exactly what about Laurie was different. His hair, of course, but Stanford liked that new style, it made Laurie look.... Not younger, but not necessarily older either. He seemed weathered, but not aged, then Stanford would find himself considering Eric's landscape, which would soon be shipped from the West Coast, heading across the Atlantic. Better to ponder work than anything else.

Laurie was thrilled for Sam and Renee, and while he had yet to speak to them, he'd talked to Lynne, who had met the children. They had been wary, although Ann and Jane seemed to have hit it off. Lynne had remarked at how attached both youngsters were to their new parents, and how much those children looked like Sam and Renee. She would send Laurie a snapshot once the kids were feeling more comfortable around the Aherns' extended families. The Canfields were going to be introduced in the coming week, mostly because the two youngest were the same ages as Paul and Ann. Laurie had committed those names to memory, but had yet to tell Seth about them.

Lynne hadn't seemed to care whether or not Laurie shared this news, but he felt odd acting as an intermediary for a wife and her husband. Seth had written to Laurie, not much more than therapy was at times difficult, but he was grateful for Eric's presence. Thorazine was still being administered, but the dosages were smaller than before. Seth didn't go into further details, and Laurie had already answered that note, telling his cousin he loved him, and that Laurie would see him soon.

Yet, it wouldn't be in Florida, and if it happened before 1964 rolled around, Laurie would be happy. If it was later.... Laurie didn't wish to think about Lynne having her baby with only Renee and maybe Fran Canfield to assist the doctor. Eric had to be home by then, an idea that made Laurie sigh out loud if he was alone, or inwardly stew if Stan or Agatha were present. Work was the only manner to distract Laurie, but he avoided long lunches, not wanting to again fall into a drunken stupor. He didn't trust himself, especially around Agatha, who now gave him knowing looks as though he had told her everything.

Lynne hadn't minded that Laurie had left open a door with that woman, in fact she was relieved if that for nothing else, Agatha no longer fretted over Eric. Of course Agatha was concerned about Lynne, so was Stanford. But Stan also carried a nearly invisible burden when it came to his favorite client. Laurie and Agatha saw the weight sitting on Stan's shoulders, but only Laurie could relieve it, late at night when the men were alone, usually in bed. Many months was still being accounted for that when they made love, Stan never exhibited any anxiety. Laurie made sure of that, but intimacy only took up so much of their time. Stan was still seeing Dr. Walsh once a week and while Stanford never said what he and the doctor discussed, Laurie would bet money Eric's name never surfaced. Stanford carried the painter's whereabouts far back in his head, yet Eric remained upon Stan's mind, no way to erase him.

On Monday morning, Laurie rose early, leaving Stan still sleeping. Agatha wasn't due for over an hour, but Laurie would wait for her coffee. He wandered around the apartment, occasionally staring out at the still quiet city, though traffic hummed below him, autumn apparent in falling leaves and lessening daylight. He'd missed an entire New York summer, yet Laurie felt like he'd spent those months on Mars for all he had learned, and how much had changed here at home. It seemed that other than lovemaking, Laurie couldn't properly communicate with Stan, even if their conversations still flowed.

They talked about their clients and art in general. They spoke about how good it was Laurie was back, and they discussed current events, that church bombing in Birmingham alongside the Partial Nuclear Test Ban Treaty which had been ratified by the Senate. A terrible hurricane had just hit Cuba, several thousand people killed. Yet all of those events, while striking, didn't capture Laurie's interest. It was hard to juxtapose them with what he had discovered in the Kerr Hospital, what he was still keeping from Stan.

Maybe Lynne had been right, Laurie mused, going into the kitchen as if Agatha was making the morning brew. The room was dark, the healing scent of her coffee absent. Laurie sat at the table, trying to reconcile the two sides of his life, knowledge that was far too much for one man to accept alone. Was that why Eric had told Lynne not long after they had started dating? Laurie tried to imagine what Lynne must have thought, but he shook his head, too many factors complicating the idea. Then he laughed at himself; he felt aged. To conjure what a nineteen or twenty-year-old must have assumed seemed just as ridiculous as attempting to put into rational context that very unreal fact. Then Laurie considered Seth, about that same age when he'd enlisted. Youth was wasted on the young, Laurie sighed. Then he considered those orphans.

By the time he met them, they would be used to life in the Ahern household. Sam and Renee might still be adjusting, and not only to parenthood. Renee would become a full-time mother, and while Lynne seemed happy in that role, might Renee feel differently? Then Laurie shook his head; who was he to wonder about more than coffee in another hour? He had to set Florida, and Eric, aside. Then Laurie permitted a smile; he hadn't included Seth in that, or not as the main focus. For how long had his cousin invaded Laurie's mind, or more rightly, his worries? But it would do Eric no good for Laurie to lose sleep over him, and as for Stanford.... If Stan mentioned the Snyders, Laurie would smile, concentrating on Lynne, Jane, and the baby. He had to treat Eric as if he was.... Then Laurie shivered. Seth wouldn't be in Miami forever. Maybe Eric would be home even before Seth stepped off a plane. And when Laurie next saw that painter, a new baby would be the emphasis, not a man who had turned into....

Laurie stood, feeling his age in aching knees. That was new, perhaps he needed to take in more exercise. Instead of using the elevator this week, he'd try the stairs. If he lost a couple of pounds, so what? Forty wasn't too many years away, half of his life already over. The first half had been a mix of good and bad. What might the second half entail?

As that passed through his mind, Laurie heard footsteps approach. Stan opened the kitchen door, then flipped on the light. "You okay?" Stanford asked, clearing his throat. "Laurie?"

"Couldn't sleep. I didn't wanna wake you." Laurie stood, then smiled. Stanford wore his robe and slippers, but graying chest hairs emerged at the base of Stan's throat. "You're gonna catch your death in nothing but your dressing gown."

Stanford clucked, for Laurie's tone teased. Then Stanford gripped Laurie's hand. "Come back to bed. It's early still."

Laurie nodded, hearing a need in Stan's voice. If they made love, Laurie wouldn't have to think about anything but this man. They left the kitchen still holding hands. In reaching their bedroom door, Stan tried to speak, but Laurie placed a finger over Stan's lips. Laurie didn't want to consider anything; he simply wanted to forget.

That afternoon in Miami, Seth expressed similar notions to Dr. Sellers. Nightmares left Seth rattled, although the doctor felt those dreams were beneficial. Eric seemed to agree, although both accepted they weren't the ones suffering from intense visions. Seth often woke screaming, but Eric was never far, reminding Seth that part of his life was over.

Yet, it was hard to displace those memories, the level of violence so close to the surface that Seth wondered if regaining his sanity was possible. When stirring in the middle of the night, he was certain this was Korea, his rifle was missing, and he was a dead duck. It was what he deserved, he told the doctor, his past actions so inhumane. Why was killing men permitted in combat, then pronounced illegal in civilized society?

What was the difference, Seth asked over and over, but Edwin Sellers gave no indication that Seth's query was a step backwards. There would be many awkward moments as Seth made gains, and sometimes the doctor felt he wasn't merely addressing his patient's concerns. That hawk seemed as attentive as ever, and Edwin had decided that perhaps Seth and his cousin were right. That bird possessed human traits, or maybe the doctor was himself a bit touched. He remarked upon that to Seth, making his patient snicker. "If you're crazy, what happens now?"

"I don't know," Dr. Sellers smiled. "But as I told your cousin, as long as no harm is done, I'll accept most possibilities."

Seth nodded, then shook his head. "I feel bad for his wife." Then Seth sighed. "How many have to suffer?" He walked toward the window, placing his hands on the panes. Eric waited in the courtyard, but Seth wasn't sure if he'd heard him. He usually didn't mention Lynne, that seemed cruel. But Seth had felt unsettled for days. Then he faced the doctor. "Maybe you need to increase my Thorazine."

"I'd rather not. I know you're anxious, but I'd like to ascertain if we can move past this hurdle without medication."

"But hawks are acceptable?"

Now Dr. Sellers chuckled, stepping to where Seth stood. "Can you tell me what you see out there?"

"Well, it's a bird, but it's also...."

"No Seth. I mean past Eric."

"There's concrete, it's pretty bleak. Why in the world someone would design a space but no access to it is beyond me."

"There's a tree," the doctor said softly.

Seth peered out the window. "Lizards too. Eric likes them, says they're better than squirrels."

"Has Eric ever had to kill to protect himself?"

"No, but...." Seth looked at the doctor. "I've told you about the barn, you know why he painted the barn."

"I do. He painted it after attacking the falcon."

"He only did that because it attacked him first."

The doctor nodded. "After he painted the barn, did he continue painting hawks?"

"I guess, I mean...." Seth sighed. "I didn't really pay attention to his other pieces. He painted portraits of his wife, some were disguised as landscapes, then actual nudes. He also painted a portrait of his pastor with Eric's...." Now Seth shivered. He motioned for the doctor to follow him, and both men walked to the other side of the room. "Of his daughter. Jane was just a few months old then."

Dr. Sellers nodded. "But he eventually stopped painting hawks altogether, correct?"

"Yeah." Seth stared at the doctor. "What're you getting at?"

"What do you think the hawks meant to Eric? Were they facets of his transformations or...."

Seth hadn't considered that, and he looked back to the window. "I just assumed that's what they were, he's been changing since he was a kid, so there were plenty of hawks for him to excise."

"Do you really think he's never killed other than to satisfy his appetite?"

"Well, not that he's told me." Seth crossed his arms over his chest. "His father abused him and he beat Eric's mother too. For a while Eric wasn't sure if he wanted to be a father, even if he and Lynne could have children."

Seth and Eric had shared much of their histories, but the doctor's question lingered in Seth's mind. "Maybe he killed something when he was younger, but I don't know for certain." Seth uncrossed his arms, then put his hands in his pockets. "I do know that for years he wanted to paint his wife, but she wouldn't let him. Then once she did...." Eric had started with the impressionistic versions of Lynne, then she had permitted him to paint the nudes. No hawks had intruded, or none that Eric had kept. Seth walked to the window, finding the hawk stalking a lizard. Suddenly Seth didn't want to see what happened next. He returned to where Dr. Sellers stood. "He keeps all the hawks he ever was inside the barn, but not for the same reason all the people I killed are in it, or all those from...." Seth swallowed hard. "He keeps them in there so they won't hurt anyone."

"Maybe he does. But was he still painting hawks when others learned about him?"

"I dunno." Again Seth peered back to the window, then he faced Dr. Sellers. "Very few people know. For years no one but Lynne did."

"I wonder if it's more of a hardship now that others are aware. It's something he can't ignore, not that he could before, but he and his wife could pretend it wasn't part of their life. Yet now they have a child, another on the way. And here he is, not merely separated from them, but again existing as something not human. And while the reason is indeed positive, I wonder if Eric remains here to satisfy more than just the desire to assist in your recovery. You say he's been changing all his life, and while I assume that stemmed to escape his abusive father, why might that have still taken place once he met his wife? What purpose did it serve?"

"You've got me." Seth removed his hands from his pockets, then cracked his knuckles. "I guess you've given us something to talk about."

"Perhaps I have. Maybe this isn't merely about you."

Seth stared at his doctor. "What're you implying?"

"Just a point for discussion." The doctor gazed toward the window. "Much of what I want to accomplish needs to occur via dialog. For years you've held all of this inside, fearing what your family would think. There is no judgment here, just the search for personal truths. I'm sure that's inspired Eric as an artist, not to mention yourself. But I do find it fascinating to consider what has spurred these alterations. And why now, at this critical juncture, Eric is so far from those he loves."

"Are you his doctor now too?" Seth's tone was mischievous.

"Let's say I want to explore all avenues related to your treatment. And let me add this; what if that creature is merely a bird, no more, no less. Yet what it is to you is fully relevant and I want you to appropriate whatever meanings necessary. Your release is my ultimate goal, and I'm prepared to work in whatever manner best befits that aim."

"Even if it means psychoanalyzing a hawk?" Seth smiled.

"Of course. Nothing can be taken for granted."

The honesty within the doctor's voice reminded Seth of Laurie. "But what I've done is so ugly. Okay, maybe Eric has killed for more than just...." Seth glanced to the window, then met the doctor's gaze. "But he's here to help me. He left his family and...." Seth bit his lip, but inside he trembled. "He can't stop it any more than I could."

"That I do believe. Yet something puzzles me." The doctor took a deep breath. "You've made tremendous gains, he could fly home today. Why doesn't he leave now?"

"He said he'd be here as long as I need him."

"Do you still need him?"

Seth nodded, but guilt swirled within him. Then he sighed. "Maybe I'll never be well. I just feel safe when he's here. It's like he won't let me...hurt anyone."

"Especially yourself."

"Nothing in here I could use."

"No?"

Seth stared at his doctor. "Like what?"

"Bedsheets, the ends of the chairs, they're not exactly smooth. We can only do so much in making these rooms safe."

"No padded cells, huh?"

The doctor shook his head. "Seth, I don't want to increase your meds, because believe it or not, you have come so far. And while I don't want Eric to leave either, I do find his presence intriguing, for both of your sakes. You told me there was still something for you to do, something good. I believe you said the same to your cousin. Assuming that's true, then we can take the next step and presume you will leave here of your own accord. And if that's the case, why is Eric still here if his wife requires his presence? You said that Laurie told his partner that Eric admitted himself into an institution. Maybe that's not entirely false. I can't fathom what it must be like to endure the existence Eric has led. Thank goodness you're my patient."

Dr. Sellers smiled at Seth, then grasped his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Then the doctor released Seth, noting he would stop by later that evening. Seth sat on the edge of his bed as Dr. Sellers left the room, hearing that familiar click. But instead of reassuring, the sound was ominous, but not merely on Seth's behalf. He gazed at the window, wondering if Eric was still in the courtyard, and if so, how many of the doctor's comments had been noted.
Chapter 146

On Paul's first day at his new school, the Ahern family walked there together, Ann in Renee's arms on the way, but Sam toted her once Paul was in his classroom. The teacher knew his history, and while he'd been registered as Paul Hamilton, before Christmas, Ahern would be his last name. Sam had requested the teacher to use Ahern when possible, as not to confuse the little boy. So far both children were adjusting well, and Sam didn't want any minor details intruding.

Sam and Renee seemed to be having a harder time, only because life with others in their household was a novelty. Their godchildren rarely slept over, and only for that one week had Lynne stayed in the Aherns' guest room. Falling asleep listening to small inhalations across the hall, the couple woke at the slightest noise. Then slumber was hard to find, for their minds were full of newfound ideas, their hearts teeming with unexplored emotions. Parenthood wasn't simply making sure kids ate their breakfast, brushed their teeth, and didn't talk with their mouths full.

For Sam, fatherhood carried a solemn responsibility, but he did wonder how much of that was related to these particular youngsters. They had lost so much, and even if they seemed comfortable in this new home, how would this define their characters? The Aherns hadn't gone to church on Sunday, but Sam wanted to go that weekend, wishing to introduce that part of his and Renee's lives to their.... They had kids, he inhaled, as he handed Ann to Renee, their house a few yards away.

Ann wasn't heavy, but Sam needed to retrieve his key. He watched Renee and that little girl walk ahead of him. They reached the Chevy, then both stared at Sam. He smiled, but his heart ached, for there stood his wife and a carbon copy of Renee, except for the slight blue of Ann's eyes. Sam had decided he didn't want to see a picture of Beth and Roy, there wasn't any need. If later on the kids wanted to inspect photographs, they could visit Aunt Vivian.

"Hurry up," Renee called. "We're waiting on you."

"Yeah, we're waiting," Ann giggled.

Sam smiled. "You ladies are too fast for me." He reached them, stroking Renee's face, then patting Ann's cheek. "What're we gonna do today?"

"Well, I was thinking...." Renee raised her eyebrows. "Maybe we can visit Lynne and Jane."

Sam nodded as Ann looked at Renee. "What about Paul?"

"He'll be in school until right before lunchtime. If we go soon, we can have a nice chat, then come back and pick him up. Would you like to see where Jane lives?"

Ann looked slightly panicked, then she placed her head on Renee's shoulder. Sam watched as his wife smoothed Ann's hair, crooning something to the little girl. Ann had enjoyed playing with Jane, although the differences between them were stark. Then Sam considered how well Helene and Jane got along, but Helene was used to kids of differing ages. Maybe Helene had appreciated being the elder around Jane, where in her house she was the baby of the family.

Sam also knew the reason for Renee's idea; at Lynne's, there was no one for Paul to play with, and while both kids would need to acclimate to the Snyder property, for now Ann would spend more time there than her brother. Fran and Louie and their youngest children had visited on Sunday, Paul and Ann getting along well with Brad, Johnny, and Helene. But other than last Friday night, when Lynne and Jane had dropped off dinner and twin bedsheets, the Aherns and Snyders hadn't seen each other. That house was huge compared with this one, maybe a little forbidding. Then Sam shook his head. It was one of the most welcoming places he knew, somewhat mysterious, but only on first glance. Of the two kids, Ann was the more timid, perhaps due to her age and that she was a girl. Paul probably wouldn't find it scary, just a little lonely, no one his age with whom to play. "You know, that's a good idea. I'll call Lynne and see if she's free." He would also mention that no pie needed to be made. Sam wasn't sure if Renee had told Lynne about that, but Sam didn't want to take any chances.

For as long as was feasible, Sam would smooth out all rough edges. Paul's classmates were far too young to ask difficult questions, like where was he from, why was he only now joining them. Perhaps it was good that the kids were so little, maybe their integration into a new family would be fairly seamless. And Renee was right; the sooner Ann became familiar with the Snyder home, the better. For now, Lynne could easily get out and about, but she was nearly six months pregnant, and depending on when Eric returned, the Aherns would be shuttling between the households. Fran wanted to have them over for supper sometime next week, and Joanie had mentioned hosting them after that. Sam knew Renee's relatives were eager to meet the kids, but everyone accepted the children required an unhurried introduction to two very large clans. Sam had already decided that for Thanksgiving, regardless of where Eric was, a turkey would be roasted in the Aherns' kitchen. Unless Sam was taking care of Eric, he permitted.

Yet, Marek had called over the weekend, congratulating the Aherns and inferring he would be happy to help in whatever manner was needed. That pastor was included in the long list of those waiting to meet Paul and Ann, so many people Sam considered family.

Then he stared at his wife, her smile so bright, her eyes at peace. Ann was also gazing at him, a little grin on her face. "So, are you gonna let us inside?" Renee said, but her tone was gentle.

"Yeah, I sure am." Sam took the key from his pocket, then walked to the front door. He heard Renee on his heels, chatting to.... Their daughter, a phrase Sam was still trying to fit into his vocabulary. For all the changes having occurred, that was the strangest one, referring to Paul and Ann as his son and daughter. But as Sam unlocked the door, he turned to find his wife and child right behind him. Of course Ann was Renee's little girl, those fiery tresses, pale eyes, and youthful impertinence so much like the woman Sam adored. Mother and daughter spoke about going to Lynne's house, where Jane lived, and where another baby would join them. Mrs. Snyder was having another baby, Renee explained, piquing Ann's interest. Sam stepped into the living room as his daughter inquired whether it would be a girl or boy. As Renee said they would wait to see, Sam found himself hoping for another daughter for Lynne and Eric. He didn't ponder that as Ann made it clear she hoped for a girl.

Forty minutes later Sam and Renee sat in Lynne's living room while Ann and Jane played nearby. Lynne didn't sit for long due to a backache. She wondered if this baby was a boy, for it seemed bigger, or maybe caring for a toddler increased Lynne's fatigue. She was pleased, however, for how well Jane and Ann were getting along. The girls were building a castle with blocks, then to Lynne's amusement, Sam joined them on the floor. Lynne took his spot on the sofa, then immediately Renee grasped Lynne's hand. They exchanged happy gazes, tears in the corners of Renee's eyes, as Sam grew animated, making Jane and Ann giggle.

"Who's the bigger kid?" Renee whispered, motioning to those on the floor.

Lynne nodded, wishing Eric was there. But she quickly put that aside, reveling in this new side to Sam's character. He had played blocks with Jane before, but his mood now was more engaged, and while that could be because Ann was older, Lynne knew the truth. Ann was Sam's daughter, and if this was how attached he'd allowed himself at this early stage, how close would this girl, and her brother, become as time passed? Lynne had watched it happen since Jane's birth, but complicating factors had intruded. However, no shield remained over Sam's heart, for his laughter was rich, his speech enthused. Jane picked up on that joy, laughing more than Lynne had heard in a good while. Not that Jane was unhappy, but not since Laurie's visit had she been so entertained.

That was the difference with a man around, Lynne accepted. She caressed her baby, then took a deep breath. Mother and daughter did the same things, little to break up the monotony. But a new member was being added to their circle, two actually, although Ann would figure more prominently in Jane's life. Lynne knew a rising joy, yet she couldn't escape a bittersweet sensation. Unlike for the Aherns, it wasn't related to the loss of the Hamiltons. Lynne saw all that Eric was missing, and there was no way to give these days back to him.

In the past, Lynne had never rued that aspect of Eric's absences. Yet, this was the first time since Jane's birth that Eric had left, and that made all the difference, and not merely for the one away. Jane had lit with Laurie's company, and she did the same with Sam. She was also this way around Marek, but perhaps that was to be expected, for she had grown up with her father's constant presence. If Eric had a regular job, maybe this wouldn't be so pronounced, yet Lynne didn't miss how animated was her daughter, which drew from Ann a similar level of excitement. The girls had started chasing each other around the living room, and Sam was on his feet too. Lynne didn't fret that they would knock something over; the house was fully baby proofed. As the girls hollered, Lynne relished the noise, not that Jane and Eric had stirred such a commotion, but the level of sound had decreased significantly since his departure. Lynne still found herself falling into lapses of silence, although now she turned on the television in the evenings. Jane didn't seem overly interested in it, for which Lynne was grateful, but the white noise soothed.

"I'm taking these two outside before they knock something over." Sam spoke definitively, yet his tone was light. It was the sound of a father, Lynne recognized, a voice absent from this home since summer. Even Laurie had projected that tone during his visit, Marek too providing a paternal tenor that Lynne simply couldn't muster. She sighed, then stood, her back again sore. She pressed against it, then felt hands on her shoulders. "You okay?" Renee asked.

She eased knots Lynne hadn't realized were there, then Lynne smiled. "You're just what the doctor ordered. My goodness but I'm getting old."

"You're nearly six months pregnant. That would make anyone tense." Renee placed her hands along the small of Lynne's back. "How're you feeling?"

Lynne nearly said lonely. "Tired. Haven't slept well the last couple nights. I think Junior had a growth spurt."

Renee chuckled. "Well, I wasn't gonna say anything, but you look a lot bigger, and I just saw you on Friday."

"I hope this baby doesn't come early." Then Lynne bit her lip, not wishing to cry. "It's so good to have you all here today." Lynne turned to face Renee. She wanted to tell her many things, how precious was this blessing, even if it had seemed somewhat precarious. "Ann's gorgeous and she's so attached to you and Sam already."

"Yeah, it's a little strange, but...." Renee sighed in contentment. "I never thought it would be like this, I mean, it's, well...."

"Not as hard as you'd assumed." Lynne nodded, for she'd felt the same when Jane was born. Motherhood for both women had always seemed a faint dream, yet while it had come their ways in different manners, for each it was as if the right moment only had to arrive. Then Lynne looked at the floor. She couldn't wait to hold her next child, but she didn't want to deliver without Eric. That feeling had emerged over the last few days, then Lynne grimaced. She had truly realized it once Laurie left. Raising Jane on her own, with another on the way, wasn't how Lynne had imagined parenthood, but with Eric as her spouse, what else was she to expect?

Lynne kept that thought to herself, instead smiling at Renee. "When I was in labor, I felt like I was on a train, the Mommy Train," Lynne chuckled. "And I so wanted you to come with me, I wanted that nearly as much as I wanted my baby." Lynne laughed, but tears sprang from her eyes. "I told Eric that, and he said he felt like you'd be on that train one of these days." Now Lynne wept freely. "And he was right. Oh Renee, I'm so happy for you and Sam, and for the kids too. Paul looks so much like Sam, it's crazy. And Ann looks just like you."

Those likenesses had been startling to Lynne last Friday, but she hadn't commented upon it, nor had she planned to do so that day. Yet, how to dismiss the resemblances? It would be like saying Jane didn't have Sam's eyes, but now another child shared those vivid kingfisher irises, and Ann's hair was exactly the shade of her mother's. To Lynne, that word meant one woman, who now cried openly. Lynne hugged Renee, their tears turning to laughter. They wiped their faces, then walked to the French doors, finding their daughters seated on Sam's lap near the patio table. Sam wore a somber gaze and the women rushed outside. "What is it?" Renee blurted.

Lynne moved more slowly, but was equally curious. Jane looked unbothered, but Ann seemed upset. Then Ann reached out for Renee, who collected her, patting her back. Sam appeared rattled, yet, he remained quiet.

Jane remained unaware of any problem, chatting about pie. Lynne had been told that Beth had also been a baker, and no mention of pie had emerged. Lynne took Jane from Sam's grasp, then felt the baby wriggling under the pressure. "Oh you," Lynne said, looking at her large belly. "Okay, you win." Putting Jane down, Lynne stretched out her back. Then she found Ann's gaze directed her way.

"The baby in my tummy doesn't like it when I hold Jane." Lynne kept her voice light, but it was still gravelly from her previous tears. "I hope this baby gets along with Jane as well as you do."

"Where's Jane's daddy? Is he dead?" Ann spoke softly, but kept her eyes on Lynne.

Lynne fought another barrage of tears as from within the baby kicked hard. "No, he's with a friend of ours who isn't feeling well. He'll be back soon." Lynne sat next to Sam, and he gripped her hand.

"Jane's daddy is Eric," Renee added. "And just like Lynne said, he'll be home really soon."

"Are you sure?" Ann said slowly.

"Yup." Renee kissed Ann's cheek. "How about we go inside and have a cookie."

"Pie," Jane said, standing near Renee. "Pie!"

Lynne glanced at her daughter, then at Ann, who stared at Jane. Ann seemed skeptical, then Lynne broke into a brief giggle; Ann looked so much like Renee, uncertainty mixed with hope. Then Ann gazed at Lynne. "Do you have pie?" Ann asked.

"I do," Lynne said. "Would you like some?"

Ann raised her eyebrows. "What kind is it?"

"Sweet potato."

Ann's eyes grew wide. "What's that?"

"It's the best pie in the world if you ask a certain Pole." Sam chuckled, then stood, picking up Jane. He faced the little girls, and Jane clapped, repeating pie.

"Well, maybe I can try it." Ann looked toward the house, then she pointed in that direction. "Mama, can I have some pie?"

"Sure, let's go have a piece." Renee giggled, heading to the house. Sam and Jane were right behind them, but Lynne lingered in her seat as Ann's curious tone rolled through Lynne's mind. Yet, it wasn't the pie to make Lynne pause, but how that little girl said Mama without any hesitation. Lynne patted her belly, then slowly got up from her chair. She found Sam coming back outside, his face showing concern.

"Everything okay?" Lynne asked, as he reached her.

"Yeah, just wanted to make sure you're all right."

Lynne nodded, wiping a few tears from her face. "Everything's fine Sam, it really is."

"Well, it's certainly on its way. And once he's home, oh Lynne, oh honey...."

Sam embraced her, for now Lynne was a sodden mess. Yet, not all of her outburst stemmed from sorrow. She explained that, still weepy, as they reached the house. Lynne didn't join those in the kitchen. She walked upstairs, not wanting to disturb Ann's first encounter with pie in this home. There would be further moments for Lynne to enjoy, and Sam was right. Eric would return; Lynne just had to keep the faith.
Chapter 147

To Marek, time seemed to speed past, although he wondered how that was possible. Seth and Eric were still in Miami, and the letter Marek had written at the beginning of the month had not been answered. On that last Sunday of October, he considered what had changed since a year ago when the entire world had been held hostage by two governments, also how his life had altered since Eric's visit, when Marek's past had been revealed to the painter, although not in the usual manner of communication. And now it had been nearly four months since Eric had left for Florida, and while Seth was continuing to improve, no word from Laurie about Seth's probable discharge from the hospital had been forthcoming. Laurie and Marek were in close contact, and those letters and the occasional phone call had kept Marek from dwelling too much on a note he was now certain wouldn't arrive. Klaudia had made it quite clear, in precise Polish, that she didn't require further contact. Marek had taken a chance, based upon the viewpoint of one perceptive woman. Now just as Lynne had to wait, Marek did too.

Yet, Lynne was eager for more than only her husband's return, and now that other event had begun to usurp their chats. Lynne had decided to have her baby at home, with Renee and Fran's help in addition to the doctor. Marek had offered to watch Jane, for depending on when Lynne went into labor, Sam might be caring for the Aherns' children. Marek had finally been introduced to Paul and Ann, and like everyone else, he was stunned by the physical similarities shared between people not biologically related. He had also seen other likenesses; Ann could be impudent, although shyness masked much of her sassiness. Paul was a thoughtful child, yet around Johnny Canfield a sense of mischief emerged, and Marek had remarked upon that to Lynne and Fran last weekend when the families got together at the Aherns for a pot luck. Marek had been invited, and while he'd said little to Paul and Ann, he enjoyed a good chat with Fran and Louie, relieved to hear no sadness in their voices. They were thrilled for Sam and Renee, and their losses from a year ago seemed to have slipped into a safe place where regrets weren't painful. Marek hadn't thought about Klaudia on that evening, too many warm feelings from people he was starting to consider his family. But with no reply forthcoming, it was probably time to set that woman back where she had dwelled for the last twenty years. Yet, unlike where he kept his relatives, there was no room in Eric's blue barn for Klaudia, or her son, about whom Marek knew almost nothing.

The only information Marek possessed concerning that boy was that something about him pained Klaudia deeply. Marek had realized that from what she had initially written to Eric, asking if Marek had a child. Something about Klaudia's son was amiss, then Marek tutted himself, for she had made no mention of any problem. Yet Marek would bet the amount of his recent poker winnings that Klaudia had more on her plate than a dead spouse. Considering that, he walked the length of the church corridor, having just said goodbye to the last parishioner. It hadn't been Lynne; she and Jane had gone to church with the Aherns, easing Paul and Ann into the habit of weekly worship. Marek had missed the Snyder ladies, but maybe it was easier on Lynne to attend services with Sam and Renee, at least until Eric returned.

Marek kept Klaudia's two letters in his lower bureau drawer, although once Eric came home, that first note would be returned to its rightful owner. Marek retrieved them, then sat on his bed, staring at her handwriting. It was the same on both envelopes, although the script was larger on the one addressed to Eric. On the other, Klaudia had written Marek's name in haste, for it seemed scribbled, or maybe the smaller handwriting evoked that notion. He pulled out the sheets from that envelope, their native language a joy for Marek to read, even if she'd had little to say. He hadn't read this note to Lynne, for upon inspection, Marek had found nothing indicating what Lynne seemed to think. Yet, Marek had followed her instruction, writing back even if little hope remained. Perhaps his letter reminded Klaudia of notes he'd left in her windowsill, a small crack created from messages wedged in the aged wood. He had never received written responses to those notes, but she always answered his queries the next day, walking home from school together or....

He sighed aloud. Pining for someone from two decades in the past seemed futile, not to mention how young they had been, or what they had lived through in the interim. Marek didn't assume his sufferings had been harder, for she had married, was now widowed, raising a child on her own. And something with that child was.... He studied her handwriting, was his Polish rusty, had she included some reference to an illness or injury or....

But the words were just the same as the last time he'd read them. He sighed, then closed his eyes, praying for peace of mind for them both. What came next was out of Marek's hands, while right there in town plenty of people needed his attention. With that thought, Marek put away the letters, then walked into the kitchen. He called the Snyders, but no one picked up. He smiled, assuming that Lynne was probably having lunch with the Aherns, or rather, the Ahern family. Making himself a sandwich, Marek ate in the quiet, stealing glances at the painting hanging near the sink. Better for Lynne to be surrounded by friends, Jane too. Over Eric, Marek offered supplications, covering Seth as well. Marek finished his lunch, setting his plate in the sink. He didn't wash it, but stared at that canvas, thinking of the man who'd painted it. Marek missed their friendship, then for a moment he allowed a curious thought; why had God brought him to a rather commonplace town, but with one extraordinary citizen? And now that Marek had some equally astonishing news, Eric was far away. Both men were in a wilderness of sorts, Marek then smiled, undergoing a time of testing. Yet the reasons for those trials were far past what Marek could imagine. He walked out of the kitchen, heading back to his room. Grabbing a hat, gloves, and a scarf Lynne had recently knitted for him, Marek decided to take a walk. Autumn days would be giving way to winter's chill before he knew it.

On that same Sunday afternoon, Laurie and Stanford returned from Brooklyn, having shared lunch with Rose and Wilma. Both women had baked for the occasion, and the men were stuffed with two kinds of cake, bringing home pieces as well. Agatha would appreciate those treats, but neither Laurie nor Stanford wanted another bite.

Stanford had hoped this trip might soothe Laurie's mood, which had been strained all month. For the first few weeks, Stanford had ignored the slight irritation, which at first he blamed on the cooling temperatures. Laurie had grown used to Miami's mild weather, but now with Halloween on the horizon, cold weather was right around the corner. Agatha seemed tolerant of Laurie's short fuse, which had erupted that afternoon at Rose's, much to everyone's surprise. Laurie had actually shouted at one of his sisters, but had apologized profusely afterwards, yet a pall had been cast over the rest of the visit. Stanford hadn't minded, in part that Laurie called for a taxi once feathers had been smoothed, and they left much earlier than originally intended. Yet Rose had insisted they take home coconut cake, for Agatha, she noted. Then Wilma made sure slices of chocolate cake were added to the plate, and now Stanford held a large platter that would have to be returned to Rose before Thanksgiving. Stanford would let Laurie see to that errand, then he stared at that man, who wore a frown. Stanford didn't know what was bothering Laurie, unless he was starting to wonder who would leave the hospital first, Seth or Eric.

Stanford had refrained from asking Lynne how her husband was, although she still sent the occasional letter. Stanford had decided to cut personal ties with Eric, at least until that man made an overture, for it was too.... Stanford sighed. It had simply become too painful to consider Eric's whereabouts. To pester Lynne was even more distasteful; she was over six months along, which had been mentioned at lunch. None of those in Brooklyn knew that Eric was in a similar place as Seth, so the banter had been light about that couple and their expected baby. All hoped it would be a boy, although Stanford didn't feel that way and he knew Laurie agreed with him. Then Stan shivered, although the cab's interior was warm; Laurie's temper had been sparked when his oldest sister said she hoped Lynne was expecting a son. Laurie had vehemently disagreed, silencing the entire gathering. Wilma had tactfully stepped in, and Laurie immediately stood, giving his sister a hug. But he hadn't offered an excuse, only extending his regrets, then trying to make light of Lynne's condition. Maybe later the women would understand Laurie's feelings, all they had to do was consider Seth, not that any current conflicts were underway. Or maybe the women in Laurie's family felt as they did because there were so many of them.

And now several slices of cake would remind Stanford and Laurie of that afternoon, which Stanford wanted to put far from his and Laurie's minds. Perhaps Agatha could be persuaded to take it all home with her tomorrow, then Stanford shook his head. That would be a burden on Agatha. Stanford could take some to Emily; he wouldn't even explain from where the pieces had originated. If Agatha had a slice of each, that would leave about half, then....

Stanford gazed at the man seated beside him. Laurie hadn't spoken during the ride to Brooklyn, nor had he said anything since telling the driver their destination. Usually Stanford did that, but Laurie had barked the address, then fallen into a sullen silence, his arms crossed over his chest. Normally they chatted during the ride, but since Laurie had come home, nothing was.... Stanford didn't want to consider this, he'd set aside anything out of the ordinary, but truthfully nothing had been right since Laurie left in June for Miami.

Fifteen minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of a tall building. Laurie got out first, while Stanford managed to keep the platter from tipping. Laurie paid their fare, then marched straight into the lobby. Normally Laurie waited for his partner, which never failed to annoy Stanford even after all these years. But that day Stanford entered the building alone, and by the time he reached the elevator, Laurie was nowhere to be seen.

Stanford wasn't sure if Laurie had taken the stairs, as lately he'd gotten into the habit of doing, or if he'd caught the elevator and not held the door for one more. Stanford hoped it was the former, then he looked around, finding nobody else present. He huffed aloud, then took one step back as the elevator doors opened. No one emerged and he stepped inside, hitting the button for his floor. His fingers cramped, so he adjusted his grip on the platter. But Laurie wasn't there to take it from him.

When Stanford reached their floor, no one walked ahead of him. He slowly approached their door, but sighed, having to place the dish on the carpet to retrieve his key. Laurie must have taken the stairs, Stanford thought, as he unlocked the door, collected the platter, then entered the apartment, hearing nothing. The door closed behind him, but he didn't lock it, not wishing to stir Laurie's ire.

By the time Stanford had taken the plate to the kitchen, then used the bathroom, Laurie was changing clothes in their bedroom. Stanford wanted to speak, but felt tongue-tied, then he sighed aloud. "Are you all right?" he said. "Did you take the stairs?" he then added, not wishing to start an argument.

Clearly Laurie was upset, for how he flung his trousers near, but not into, the hamper. Coins flew from his pockets, but he didn't pick them up. Instead he roughly pulled out a drawer in his dresser, then closed it sharply. Again he pulled out another, but all that banging was giving Stanford a headache. "Fine," he said, stepping from the room. "All I did was ask a simple question...."

"You asked two stupid questions," Laurie shouted. "But as usual, you don't wanna know a goddamned thing."

Stanford had reached their doorway, which he grasped with his right hand. But he didn't face Laurie. Gritting his teeth, Stanford took a breath, then let it out. "I'm not going to fight with you. Call your sister if you wish to continue that kind of discussion."

Laurie had a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't wanna fight. God forbid we do anything but talk about the weather or have sex."

Now Stanford faced his partner. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I'm just...." Laurie's tone had lost all its anger, replaced by a ragged weariness that before Stanford had only heard when Laurie spoke about Seth when that man was severely depressed. But according to Wilma, the news was good. Seth's doctor had called her a few days ago, then Seth had gotten on the line, only for a moment, due to the long distance charges. Seth had told his mother he loved her, and that he hoped to be home for Hanukkah. All that meant to Stanford was that Seth would be back before the end of the year, but if that was true, why was Laurie so....

"What on earth is wrong?" Stanford now approached Laurie, who had sat on the end of the bed. Stanford debated whether or not to sit next to Laurie, or to kneel in front of him. He wanted to look Laurie in the eye, but getting up from the floor wouldn't be easy. Stanford sat on the mattress, but he grasped Laurie's hands. "Please tell me what's going on. I love you and...."

And to say more would cause Stanford great pain, not to mention what it would stir within this man who now trembled. Stanford squeezed Laurie's hands, which were cold. "For God's sake Laurie, what is it?"

"It's nothing. Work's been a bitch and...."

"That's not it, or not all of it." Stanford had witnessed Laurie in the middle of some very intense moments, both with sculptors and collectors, and never before had Laurie become so distraught. "Is there something about Seth you're not telling me, something Wilma didn't mention?"

"Oh Jesus Stan, if only."

Stanford inwardly shivered. "Laurie, what?"

Laurie took a deep breath, then looked at Stanford. "It's, it's...." Laurie shook his head. "I'm just tired, Christ, I am so fucking exhausted."

Taking his hands from Stanford's, Laurie stood, then rummaged through the still open dresser drawer. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants, then took off his undershirt. He closed that drawer, more quietly than before, then opened another, taking out a long sleeved shirt, which he put on. Deliberately he closed that drawer, then walked past where Stanford still sat at the foot of the bed. Laurie slipped on shoes, then paused, reaching the bedroom doorway. "I can't talk about this, there's nothing to talk about."

As he went to leave, Stanford stood. "Which is it?"

Laurie turned around. "Which's what?"

"Either there's nothing to say or there's something about which you don't want to speak."

For a moment Laurie looked puzzled, then he mumbled to himself. Then he smiled at Stanford. "There is something about which I don't want to speak. My God Stan, sometimes you're so fucking astute."

Laurie laughed, but Stanford wasn't eased, for the sound was chilling, as was the way Laurie had mocked him. "Don't take that tone of voice with me," Stanford said.

"You have no idea how I've tried to protect you, so don't tell me what I can or can't do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" For a moment fury raged through Stanford. Then a more awful notion was considered. "Do you know something about Eric that I don't?"

This had to be about Eric, or God forbid, had something happened to Lynne and the baby? "You tell me what the hell's going on or I'm calling...." Stanford wouldn't dare bother Lynne, but he could call Sam. Then Stanford grimaced. That man didn't need to be pestered either, but Stanford required answers. "I'll call Marek," Stanford said. "That Pole'll tell me what the hell's happening."

"For the love of God, don't call anyone. I'm sorry Stan, I swear, it's just me, I'm just...." Again Laurie used that ragged voice. Then he flung his arms around Stanford, who immediately reciprocated. "Please just forget about this, about all of it. I'm just so damned tired and...."

Stanford did wish to forget, so he kissed Laurie, not wanting to hear anymore. That kiss led to several others, which took the men to their bed. But even after making love, Stanford was still disturbed. And so was Laurie, who had been seconds away from blurting the truth of Eric's whereabouts. Laurie wasn't sure how much longer he could keep that secret, while Stanford wondered how he could refrain from asking Lynne an equally painful query. It was only a matter of time before one of the men broke down, just a question of who cracked first.
Chapter 148

Halloween was fast approaching, but Lynne still hadn't decided if Jane would participate in trick or treating. It seemed too much for a toddler, although Fran had brought over some adorable costumes worn by her brood when they had been Jane's age. The Canfield kids were going to accompany the Ahern children, a term Fran had said with love in her voice. Not that Paul or Ann referred to Fran and Louie as aunt and uncle. The kids were just starting to routinely call Renee and Sam Mommy and Daddy, but Lynne was no longer Mrs. Snyder. She was usually referred to as Jane's mama when Ann visited, which was a few times a week. Occasionally Sam joined his wife and daughter, but the Aherns had found that Sam required down time, which hadn't surprised anyone.

What had seemed strange was just how easily Paul and Ann had taken to their new parents, but maybe those three weeks of only their elderly aunt as a caregiver had been the issue, or perhaps their youth. Fran thought it was the prayers said for those children, as well as how vital parents were to youngsters at that age. Lynne felt similarly, but also allowed more mysterious reasons. She had considered writing to Seth, nearly asking Laurie for his address. But something had held her back, although just yesterday Laurie had called, telling her that his aunt had spoken to Seth, who said he would be home by mid-December. As soon as Laurie knew that Eric was on his way, he would call, which had pleased Lynne, but Laurie had sounded haunted. Later Lynne wondered how much of that was due to the approaching holiday; Fran's older kids were dressing as characters from horror movies, although Helene was going as a fairy.

On Tuesday morning, Jane woke with a slight fever, making Lynne's decision simple. She called Renee, then Fran, letting them know Jane would spend Halloween at home. She also warned that perhaps the other children might have caught Jane's cold, but on Wednesday, the rest were feeling fine. Ann and Helene didn't understand the idea of free candy, but Paul and Johnny were aware, and by Thursday, those boys were nagging their mothers if they could wear their costumes to school that day. Fran and Renee both said no, and while Louie was at work, Paul asked Sam, who had heard Renee's answer. "What did your mother say?" Sam asked, the words a delight, even if the reprimand made Paul scowl.

"She said I can't." Paul pouted for a moment, then ran into the children's bedroom, where Renee was helping Ann get dressed. They needed to leave soon to take Paul to school; the family still went together, which had precluded Sam and Renee from going to morning mass. But no one at St. Anne's seemed bothered, for the children had attended the past two Sundays and seemed to have enjoyed it. Or they hadn't pitched any fits, Sam allowed.

Sam and Renee had asked Fran and Louie to be the kids' godparents, and while the Canfields had immediately said yes, the Aherns weren't in a rush to baptize their children. Father Markham thought that wise while Father Riley was skeptical, but it was Sam and Renee's decision and while that sacrament was vital, more important was making sure the children understood the reason. It was one thing to baptize an infant who didn't know better. Yet Sam felt differently about having that sacrament given to these children, although he wasn't sure why. He wanted them to embrace faith, and if they waited until right before Paul started confirmation classes, Sam didn't mind. Maybe their interest would be piqued when Lynne had the new baby baptized. Then Sam shivered. If Eric wasn't back, would she wait for his return, or would she go ahead with that event? Marek wouldn't pressure her, and Sam felt Eric should be present. Then Sam wondered how much longer would Seth remain in Florida? Lynne had passed along Laurie's news and while a date hadn't been set, if Seth was well enough to speak to his mom, the end of Eric's sojourn was nigh, not to mention the hell Seth had endured.

Sam was more worried about his best friend, who would brave the elements, then have to.... Sam could hear Paul and Ann gabbing about that night's festivities. The Aherns would trick or treat on their street, neighbors having already been introduced to the children and eager to welcome them further into this community. Then Sam would drive his family to the Canfields', where Paul and Ann would trek about with their cousins. Paul had started calling Johnny Cousin Johnny, which neither Sam nor Renee had corrected, for it was true. Perhaps it was Paul's way to confirm the relationship, the adults had decided. Even though it would make for a late night, Sam wanted his children to spend that first holiday with relatives, and so far the kids seemed to know the Canfields best.

He lamented that Jane would miss the festivities, but she was awfully young, and Lynne needed her rest. They would see the Snyders that weekend, and maybe Lynne would go to St. Anne's again. Sam wouldn't bring that up, although he wondered if Marek had visited Lynne. Maybe he was going there that night, not much for a pastor to do on Halloween. Then Sam forgot about those folks as Renee met him in the living room, holding their children's hands. Ann wore a bright smile while Paul's earlier irritation was gone. He was dressed in corduroys and a long sleeved shirt, a jacket slung over his shoulder. The weather was still mild for this time of year and Sam was relieved, for maybe Eric would be out in the elements sooner rather than later.

Sam sighed inwardly, but to his family, his smile shone. "All ready for school?" he said, stretching out his arms in Ann's direction.

She nodded, going his way. Sam hoisted her in the air, kissing her cheeks, making her giggle. Then she laid her head on his shoulder; she often liked being that close to either Sam or Renee, probably something she had done with.... Sam took a deep breath, then gazed at his wife. Renee's eyes were damp, but the joy on her face was beatific. He wanted to caress her cheek, but didn't, as Paul began to wiggle. "I'm ready, I'm ready," he shouted.

Sam nodded as Renee gathered her keys. She wore a sweater, so did Ann. "Sam, you might need a jacket." Renee's tone was gentle, how her bearing had become since the kids had moved.... Not in, for that sounded temporary. The kids had come home, Sam thought, as Ann repeated that Daddy needed a jacket. Then Paul caught on, and within seconds both kids were chanting that Daddy needed a....

"Here's Daddy's jacket," Renee said, handing a sweater to Sam. She helped him slip it on, for Ann remained in his arms. Then Renee placed her hand on his cheek, nodding her head. Maybe it was easier for her to do that near the kids. Sam looked at her, so much love in his heart. She smiled, seemed to understand. They left the house to the children hollering that Daddy had his jacket, as if all had been made right with the world.

Seth spent that morning in an intense session with Dr. Sellers. Yet it was only those two, for Eric had visited Seth at dawn, then flown away, although he'd told Seth he would see him later. Having been a hawk for nearly four months, Eric was starting to lose touch with his human side, yet being so closely tethered to Seth had maintained that grip longer than if Eric had been on his own. He recalled Lynne's name, Jane's too, and of course the baby Lynne was expecting. But others were now forgotten, like Sam, Renee, and Stanford. Eric knew that Seth had a cousin, but that man's name came and went. Eric also remembered his pastor, whose name sounded a lot like his own. Eric spent that morning chasing lizards, trying to recall what that minister's name was, but after eating his fill, he forgot that other task. He needed to return to the hospital where Seth was waiting.

Eric's mind was geared solely to helping that man heal. Seth had a terrible wound inside his head, how Eric now thought of Seth's illness. The injury was mostly stitched together, but small sections of Seth's brain were still tender. The worst part was over, terrible dreams much like ones Eric had suffered from as a child. They were so long past him that he only recalled them when he was a hawk, and his age as man had given him the proper perspective to set aside those violent visions. They had been of his childhood, when his father had.... Eric flew with speed, although a full belly made him feel heavy. But he couldn't outrun those dreams, which had haunted him until he'd met....

The woman he loved, her name was.... He smiled; Lynne had never experienced Eric's dreams because as soon as he'd met her, they had disappeared. Her devotion had erased all sense of futility, for even after he told her the truth, she had stayed. Perhaps she had thought him crazy, but she had waited him out, and upon his arrival and transformation, she'd embraced him, tears on her face, loving words drowning out all the pain he had temporarily caused her. And then he never suffered from another nightmare again.

Those dreams didn't bother him now, images from when he'd first turned into a hawk, trying to ascertain why it had happened and how to behave when in that form. Initially he had been reckless, also lucky he hadn't been killed by either man or another animal. Eric hadn't understood these newfound instincts, and occasionally had hunted for sport. From time spent with other hawks, he had learned the ways of the animal kingdom, no longer killing smaller creatures unless he needed to eat. He didn't know if those actions had been related to being abused or simply from ignorance. By the time he was ten years old, when he turned into a hawk, he obeyed rules foisted upon him from those changes.

Yet for two years, Eric had altered with no assistance to guide him, wondering each time if that was the last. He had managed to devise ways to explain his disappearances, although he was never able to stop the nightmares, which continued even after his father went to prison. Those dreams had frightened his mother, who assumed they were by-products of Eric's damaged foot. Emma Snyder had tried to soothe her son, but she died with his screams wedged inside her head, a deep ache seared within her heart.

Now Eric could assuage his mother's pain by helping another. He thought about that as he neared the hospital, hoping Seth's doctor was gone. The doctor had indeed done much for the man within that building, but he had also raised questions that Seth had then asked Eric. Eric hoped that once he was again a man, all of this would be forgotten, as it had been years ago. He only wanted to fly home, change form, and stand at his wife's side as she had their baby. A girl, he prayed, still aware of God's presence; the day Eric lost that touchstone, he wouldn't remember who he had been, heading home by sheer instinct. He had made it back once before, traveling with a similar disposition, but the alteration had been so brutal that he hoped to be on his way while still recalling Lynne's name.

As Dr. Sellers left Seth's room, Eric touched down in the courtyard. He waited a moment, then saw a figure approach the window. Eric nodded to that man, his name was Seth, Seth.... Eric no longer knew his last name, but wasn't bothered as Seth smiled. "I'm getting so close," the man said. "But then so are you."

Eric stared, then blinked. "Close to what?"

"You're close to forgetting. I wonder if by the time this's over I'll be the one helping you."

The hawk shivered, then he understood. "Maybe. Lynne and Jane, right?"

"That's right. And my cousin is...."

The hawk looked upwards, then it poked at the ground. "Your cousin, a cousin...." The hawk concentrated, then he recalled a man with similar features to Seth, although he was taller and his eyes were green. But his name, what was his name?

"That's okay, it's not important, I mean, not to you. If I forget, then we're in trouble." Seth smiled, then grew solemn. "Eric, there's something I wanna ask you, and if you can't answer, that's all right. But I've been thinking about this, well, Dr. Sellers pointed it out a while ago and I don't know if you've heard him talk about it, but I think it's important. I think it's the main reason you're here helping me."

"You can ask me anything Seth."

Now Seth laughed. "You know my name, that's good. All right, here goes."

Seth paused, then sat in the chair next to the window. Eric hopped closer, wanting to see Seth's face as he spoke. But Seth seemed to be considering his query. Eric poked at his right wing, then gazed at the man inside the building. "What do you need to ask?"

Seth sighed. "Did you ever kill animals other than for food?"

The hawk gazed at the concrete, then nodded. Then it looked up, and as it did, the names of its mate and offspring slipped from its mind. The hawk didn't forget them, but who they were as human beings ceased to exist. "Yes, when I was much younger, before I understood how to be a hawk. I didn't know any better and while it's a poor excuse, it's the truth."

"It's not a poor excuse. I wasn't really an adult when I enlisted. I thought I was, but God, I wasn't more than a big kid." Seth sighed. "That's a poor excuse too. But early on you told me I was forgiven. Do you remember telling me that?"

The hawk nodded. "Indeed. And I was forgiven too, by...." Her name simply wouldn't come to the bird, yet he recalled her mercy as if only yesterday she had embraced him, not letting him go. And every time he went back, she was there for him, those same loving words slipping from her....

Was she a hawk, as he was? She was his soul mate, the mother of his child, with another on the way. "Seth, we've both been forgiven. We committed grievous crimes, and while those actions can't be erased, we have learned to be compassionate, to put others first. And we've learned...." The hawk felt a strange sensation, as if his mind was losing ground.

"What Eric? What else have we learned?"

That name, what did that name mean? The hawk inhaled, but its lungs ached. Then it knew that time was short. Winter was approaching and the flight home would take many days. The baby was due soon, although the hawk no longer used human methods to delineate time. But perhaps only two full moons remained. He had to return to.... "What?" he asked the man, harnessing the last vestiges of this odd consciousness.

"You were telling me something we've learned. Compassion, to put others first, and...."

The hawk pondered those notions. Compassion was related to how he felt about his mate, in that he cared deeply for her. Putting others first meant the man in the building, who had needed help. The other issue.... Then the hawk nodded. "You must forget these things which have troubled you. Not that you might repeat them, but due to the mercy shown you. That mercy becomes meaningless if you cling to bygones. There is much for you to accomplish, but you can only see to those deeds with open hands. If you are gripping the past, nothing meaningful can be achieved."

Seth nodded, then he trembled. The hawk watched with a detached nature, for as soon as those words were spoken, a spasm reverberated all through him. As that sensation passed, so did the remnants of the human life Eric had lived. Now only a hawk stood in the courtyard, staring at a creature in the throes of anguish, or perhaps ecstasy. The hawk gazed until it had discerned that indeed the creature was happy, albeit deeply affected. The hawk hopped close to the window, still viewing the creature, who called out with a tone of intense thankfulness. The hawk understood that sound, for other animals made similar noises. It was a universal cry, which made the hawk shiver. It wanted to leave, its mate was waiting. But until this trapped being was released, the hawk would remain. They would fly away together, the hawk relayed in a loud squawk as the creature continued to bawl.
Chapter 149

It took hours before Seth felt able to talk about what Eric had shared, yet Seth had to speak about this notion, one with which Dr. Sellers fully agreed. Seth also felt the hawk had altered, for no longer could Seth make out more than normal sounds coming from the bird of prey. And as he'd tried to talk to Eric, the bird had stared at him quizzically. Yet, at suppertime, the bird remained outside of Seth's window. Seth didn't share those details with his doctor; he wanted to observe the hawk before reporting his findings.

Seth still needed to tell one other about this.... It was a revelation to Seth, and was it that simple, to accept forgiveness then walk away from such malicious deeds? But how else to move forward, Dr. Sellers had noted, not in a facetious tone, only as a matter of fact, for Seth now sat at a crossroads. He no longer felt culpable, didn't wish to kill himself, and he wanted to leave. He also wanted Eric to head home, but this had to be about Seth's health. And for the first time in his life, Seth didn't feel bound to any cause, creed, or catastrophe. He pondered that while he ate supper, then gazed out his window. The hawk remained, staring into the starry sky.

Enough light shone from Seth's room, how he made out that majestic figure in the courtyard. "You don't know me anymore, do you?"

The hawk didn't turn, although it might have blinked. Seth sighed, then placed his hands on the window. "But you're still here, why're you still here?"

The bird made no attempt to acknowledge the questions. Now Seth was certain the hawk was only a creature, and for a moment Seth felt incredible loneliness. But as the bird gazed at the window, Seth smiled. "I suppose you weren't gonna be Eric forever. But why haven't you gone home?"

Seth considered that while the hawk pecked at the ground. "Is it because I'm still here? You stayed with your father until it got cold, but it doesn't really get cold in Miami. Or maybe you knew he wasn't gonna be released, is that it? But I am, I'm...." Seth shivered as a new idea passed through his mind. "I'm gonna get outta here, and then we'll leave together, that's it, isn't it? Well then, no pressure on me, huh?" Seth smiled, then chuckled, which caught the bird's attention. They stared at each other and while Seth ached for the loss of Eric's consciousness, he felt relieved that someone, or rather something, was still keeping watch over him. "I need to tell Laurie," Seth whispered, then he sighed. "No need to keep quiet, I mean, Jesus Christ." Seth sat in the chair near the window. Then he chuckled, which turned into laughter. The bird looked up, but only seemed startled by the sound.

"This's how I'm getting outta here," Seth said. "I told Dr. Sellers that I might have to tell him that you're actually just a bird, and by God, now you are. And you know what's really nuts? I think he'll believe me. Jesus Christ, how crazy are we all now?"

The hawk returned to pecking at the concrete and Seth watched him for a minute. Then he glanced at the door. The orderly would come for his tray in another ten minutes and Seth would ask if the doctor was still around. If he was, Seth would call Laurie, he had to tell his cousin what had happened that day. Seth didn't realize what day it was, other than it was the first of the rest of his life. He had things to do, although he had no idea what they were, except that he needed both hands available. Then he trembled, thinking of sitting in front of clay. He gazed at the window, but it was too dark to see the hawk. "Open hands you said. You said I needed open hands, oh my God!" Inspecting his palms, Seth didn't see anything painful. Making a fist, he squeezed hard, then he shook it out. Again he glanced at his hands, then cracked his knuckles. Then he stood, laughing softly, hoping Dr. Sellers was still in the building.

As Laurie sipped his drink in the library, he wondered if Seth realized the significance of the date. Their phone call hadn't lasted more than five minutes, as Seth had called Laurie collect. Seth had told his cousin that while the hawk was still in Miami, no longer was it cognizant about having been a human being. That intriguing fact had been secondary, however, although Laurie wasn't sure which piece of news had hit him harder, for Seth claimed that he was almost ready to leave the hospital. That right before the hawk forgot it was Eric, it had told him.... Laurie finished his drink, shutting his eyes tightly. The message should have calmed Laurie, for it certainly had provided Seth with abundant peace. Seth had sounded so assured, happy even, although he admitted he missed Eric. But very soon, perhaps in the next couple of weeks, both would be heading home. Laurie had taken measured breaths while Seth spoke, not sure about anything, even if Seth sounded so.... Laurie stood, refreshing his drink. Seth had sounded like a man on the cusp of liberty. Yet, why was Laurie getting drunk if Seth was nearly healed?

A scab had been ripped from Laurie's chest as soon as the operator asked if Laurie would accept the charges. After calling Lynne on Monday, Laurie had attempted to live without any thoughts about Florida or hawks or.... He had nearly told Stan the truth, their argument still lingering, although no more had been said by either. It was how they tiptoed around each other, and how Laurie had spent the last few evenings alone in the library, each night drinking a little more than the last. Now on Halloween, Laurie might get plastered, maybe waking in this room tomorrow morning. Stan would be livid, but if Seth was correct, the façade would only last another fortnight.

Laurie pounded that gin and tonic, then nearly poured himself another. Gripping the gin decanter, he only hesitated due to weariness. He was indeed exhausted, although how much of that was alcohol induced? Yet there seemed not enough booze in the world to wash away the most unholy truth, and if Seth was right, what did it matter now? If that hawk wasn't Eric anymore, why the hell was it still there? Maybe in the morning, Seth would find himself alone, and perhaps tomorrow night he would call again, telling Laurie the hawk hadn't been spotted all day. Laurie wouldn't call Lynne immediately; it might take him a few days to sober up and he needed to be quite sure of Eric's absence. Then Laurie opened the decanter, pouring himself a generous measure of gin. He added an equal amount of tonic water, taking a long gulp. His throat burned, but his brain was still aware. He would get very drunk that night, to hell with everyone else.

Stanford had stayed late in the office, not wishing to argue with his partner, plus there had been work to do associated with the landscape which would be shipped from the West Coast next week. Stanford had avoided calling Sam, but finally the men spoke, just as Sam and Renee were leaving to take their children trick or treating. Stanford apologized profusely, but Sam was jovial, noting that while they would miss that painting, its sale was for a very good cause. Stanford had tried to only pay attention to Sam's words, but youngsters' squeals could be heard in the background alongside Renee telling those children that Daddy was on the phone. Stanford had been pierced by her voice, for all he could conjure was where was Eric? Stanford had no idea if Jane was dressing up that night, would Lynne join the Aherns? Sam didn't say, but he thanked Stanford for all of the dealer's hard work. Then Sam wished him a Happy Halloween, telling Stanford to give Laurie his best.

Now at home, Stanford grimaced, for Laurie was sprawled across the library sofa, smelling of gin. Stanford wondered if Agatha had seen this coming, or had Laurie waited until she'd left. Stanford wouldn't ask her, pretending this hadn't occurred. Tomorrow morning he would wake alone, leaving Laurie to his hangover. It would be a doozy, Stanford knew, not even Agatha's good coffee a remedy.

Exiting the library, Stanford closed the door behind him. Then he looked back, feeling a chill. He wanted to shut Laurie away, but that wouldn't behoove either of them. Stanford returned to the closed door, opening it a crack. Stanford listened, but didn't hear Laurie's drones. The few times Laurie had gotten this inebriated, he snored like a train. For a moment Stanford wondered if his lover was breathing. Then Laurie coughed roughly, making Stanford jump. Maybe he wasn't so drunk, although the smell of gin had been overpowering. Yet Laurie had been drinking every night that week, perhaps he was trying to blot out.... "Are you all right?" Stanford said softly, still standing just outside the doorway.

Laurie coughed again, then mumbled something, but Stanford couldn't make out the words. He longed to go to Laurie's side, embrace him, then tenderly lead him to their room. Something was deeply troubling that man, yet Stanford remained where he was. "Laurie, are you okay?"

If Stanford entered the library, Laurie would just shout at him, well, he wouldn't raise his voice too loudly, but the tenor of their discourse would be as prickly as on Sunday. The men had never been so far apart, although all Stanford had to do was step into that room, approach Laurie, then.... What Stanford actually needed to do was call Lynne, ascertaining Eric's whereabouts, then that man's prognosis. If Stanford would simply ask, all of this with Laurie would disappear.

Laurie knew more than he was admitting, and accepting that made Stanford's stomach ache. Even if Laurie's reasons were to shield Stanford.... That statement had plagued Stanford all week: You have no idea how I've tried to protect you. Yet Stanford wasn't a child, he didn't need to be lied to, what Laurie had been doing. Stanford didn't blame Lynne, but Laurie was blatantly withholding facts. Now Stanford grew angry and as Laurie coughed again, this time with less force, Stan entered the library, turning on the light. Then he trembled; Laurie looked like a skid row bum, still stretched across the sofa, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, the stench of gin rising from him. Had Laurie been ill, was that why the smell was atrocious, or had festering untruths soured Stanford's assessment of this man. Stanford glanced across the room at the telephone, then a crooked smile formed on his face. "I'll give you five minutes. If you don't tell me what's going on, I will call Lynne."

Laurie blinked, then grimaced. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Laurie struggled to sit up, then he bent over. Stanford wondered if Laurie would vomit on the carpet, in which case Agatha would then have to be told about this unpleasantness. Stanford wasn't sure which he loathed more, the idea of calling Lynne or having to share this with anyone else, even Agatha. "Tell me the truth Laurie or I swear I'll call her."

"Oh for God's sake Stan, it's fucking Halloween!" Laurie looked up, meeting Stanford's gaze. "Leave her alone, she's never done anything to you."

For a moment, Stanford was furious, Laurie's foul language a part of Stan's anger. Then Laurie's plaintive tone hit Stanford like a hammer. Against his better judgement, he walked to the sofa, then knelt in front of Laurie. "Please tell me the truth. If you love me...."

Laurie shook his head, then he swooned. "Oh my God," he sighed, leaning against the back of the sofa. "Stan, not tonight. For the love of God, just let this go."

"Is he dead?" Stanford tried to keep an even tone, but his voice cracked upon that last word. "I talked to Sam today, just about the painting. He was fine, I mean...." Were Laurie and Lynne keeping this from more than only Stanford? "Please, just tell me the truth."

"The truth, the truth...." Laurie sat up, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "You'd never believe the truth."

"Of course I'd believe...." Again anger stirred in Stanford's gut, yet he took a deep breath, then reached for Laurie's hand, which was warm. Rage bubbled within Stanford, for Laurie was very intoxicated. "Just tell me, I can take it."

"You can take it, uh-huh." Laurie gripped Stanford's hand, then smiled. "You think that now. That's what I thought too. I'm sure it's what Sam thought when he learned the news. But it's impossible, it's fucking beyond the pale." Now Laurie shivered, taking his hand from Stanford's, caressing that man's face. "Jesus Christ, you have no idea what you're asking."

"What?" Stanford removed Laurie's hand, then abruptly stood. "What in the hell are you on about?"

"He's a hawk Stan, and boy now he's really a hawk." Laurie had a sarcastic chuckle. "How the hell am I gonna tell Lynne?"

Stanford stared at Laurie, who kept laughing, although the tone was eerie. "Stop this nonsense and tell me what's wrong with Eric."

Laurie looked up, all traces of mirth gone from his face. "That is the truth Stan. Eric is that hawk. He's been in Miami since the middle of July. Seth called me today, said that now Eric doesn't remember being a...human being." Laurie stumbled on those words. Then he cleared his throat. "He's just a hawk, not sure how much longer he'll stay down there before he heads home."

For several seconds Stanford's entire body writhed in pain; not only was Seth beyond help, but Laurie had succumbed to madness. Then as Laurie made the effort to stand, Stanford grew angry. Laurie was drunk, his words borne of that thoughtless state. "You're too smashed to make sense. I'm not going to listen to any more of this...."

As Stanford turned to leave, Laurie grabbed his right arm. "Oh you're staying right here. You wanted the truth, so here it is. Eric turns into a hawk and...."

"Stop this!" Stanford tried to free himself, but Laurie possessed greater strength. "Let go of me right now!"

"I'm not that drunk, see?" Laurie maintained his grip, taking a deep breath. "I was worse off when I told Agatha...."

"What, more insane bullshit?" Stanford rarely swore, but he couldn't help it. "That's it, I'm calling Lynne. I am sick and tired of...."

Laurie released Stanford's arm. "Don't do it Stan. I promise you don't wanna call her."

"Why?" Stanford had stomped to the phone. "You don't want me knowing the truth?"

"I've told you the truth. Where do you think he was all those times he was missing? There weren't any artists' retreats, no mistresses. He flew to see his dad, and I mean he flew." Laurie made swooping gestures with his arms, then broke into laughter. "I'm not shitting you. Eric's a hawk and...."

"Stop this!" Stanford pounded the desk, rocking the phone in its cradle and making his hand ache in the process. "Damnit Laurie, why can't you just...."

"Why can't I just what? Why would I say these things if they weren't true? Don't you think I know how fucking crazy I sound, God, I wanted to knock Seth into next week when he brought this up and...."

"Oh, so Seth told you this." Stanford nodded, then laughed. "Well if Seth said it, of course I believe you. Eric's a hawk, in Miami, you say. Now it all makes sense." Stanford shook his head. "Why in God's name would he say something so outlandish and why the hell would you believe such crap?"

"Lynne confirmed it Stan. I didn't believe him until I spoke to her."

Stanford trembled for the weight of Laurie's statement and the tone of his voice, as if he wanted anything else in the world to be true. "What do you mean, Lynne confirmed it?"

"Why do you think I went to see her? I love you, all I wanted was to come home. But I had to talk to her in person, I had to...." Laurie approached Stanford, but left a few feet between them. "I know it sounds fucking impossible, but it's the truth. Eric left me a message, two of them," Laurie sighed. "He's been turning into a hawk since he was a kid, who knows if it's because of what his dad did to him, but...."

"Don't say another word." Stanford wanted to be ill, and he shook so badly, he wondered if he might fall down. He gripped the side of the desk, then gazed at the floor. The carpet sparkled, or was he going blind too? "Laurie, do you even hear yourself?"

"Yeah Stan, I do. I didn't want it to come to this, I never wanted to...."

Stan faced him. "You didn't want to lie to me, hurt me, make me wanna...." Never in all their years together had Stanford wished to be apart from this man. "You're crossing the line Laurie. Now tell me what's happened to Eric."

Laurie took two steps, standing at Stanford's side. Then he stroked Stan's cheek. "I can't stop it, just like he can't stop changing. I'm sorry Stan, I am so goddamned sorry, but this is the truth. Oh Jesus baby, please just...."

"Get out. I cannot be around you right now." Stanford moved from Laurie's touch. Then, still grasping the desk, he walked to the back side, seating himself in the large leather chair. He kept his eyes on the wood, but folded his hands in his lap. "I mean it, you need to leave."

"Are you throwing me out?" Laurie said softly.

Now Stanford looked up, yet he couldn't meet Laurie's gaze. "Yes I am because what you're implying is more hurtful than you can imagine. Why you would do this to me, I can't begin to fathom."

"Sam didn't throw his wife to the street, but whatever you want Stan." Laurie's voice trembled, then he took a deep breath. "I'll stay in hotel tonight," he added, taking halting steps toward the door. Then he turned around. "Agatha has no idea, just so you know. And just so you know, I do love you. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You're a lying bastard."

Laurie glanced at the floor, then he shrugged. "I hope you get some sleep tonight. I'll be in touch."

Stanford seethed as Laurie left the room, but Stanford didn't move until he heard Laurie close their front door, which didn't take as long as Stanford imagined. Once he was certain Laurie was gone, Stanford stood, but didn't need to grasp the desk for support. He walked to the trolley where several decanters waited, clean glasses beside them. Choosing the bottle of gin, Stanford filled half of a glass. He studied the contents, gritting his teeth. Then he hurled the tumbler across the room, inwardly screaming Laurie's name.
Chapter 150

Laurie woke to his heart aching more than his head. He lay in a bed not a quarter mile from where he lived, or where he had previously resided. He had no assumptions toward his relationship, which could very well be over. On the first of November, Laurie only hoped that Stan had gotten some rest, and that he'd had the good sense not to say anything to Agatha.

Then Laurie sighed, staring at the phone next to the bed. Of course Agatha would have noticed Laurie wasn't around, it was past nine o'clock. Was it too early to call Lynne, Laurie wondered. He smiled, although that made his heart throb more. Nearly two years ago, when Eric's dad died, Stan had wanted to reach Lynne at about this same time of day. Laurie had taken the receiver from Stanford, telling him to give her three hours. Lynne had been pregnant with Jane, and again Laurie wouldn't disturb her. Yet, he might not wait until noon Eastern Time to call; Laurie was going to book a flight westward, all he needed was to confirm he had a place to stay.

He would have to return to the apartment, for last night he had only grabbed the minimum. He knew Stan needed time alone, but having slept on it, Laurie wasn't sure there was any way Stanford would ask him to come home, not unless he witnessed.... Laurie felt ill, but it wasn't due to his hangover. He took deep breaths, which helped a little. Then he sat up. He would shower, then walk back to the apartment, calling Lynne from there. He needed to contact Seth, only so that his cousin wouldn't try to reach him in Manhattan. Laurie wasn't sure what, if anything, he'd say to his mother. Then he sighed. He'd have to tell her something, maybe just that Lynne needed.... But then Laurie would have to cover Eric's absence, which again made Laurie woozy. It was the look on Stan's face, or the different gazes Stan had worn last night as Laurie revealed the most painful news Stanford would ever have to hear. How Stan dealt with it was another story.

Would that man consider all the strange moments of the last few years concerning Eric Snyder, his healed foot the most glaring alteration. Maybe Stan wouldn't ponder any of the oddities, merely permitting what was the most likely explanation, which was.... Laurie shook his head, for nothing made sense unless one accepted the truth, which was the most unbelievable part of all.

Then Laurie closed his eyes, thinking back to Eric's message in the sand pit; that was why he'd written it, to bolster Laurie at this agonizing moment. Could Stan find a way to allow such an implausible.... Laurie wasn't sure, although he hoped so. He did love that man as much as Eric loved Lynne, as Sam loved Renee, as.... Opening his eyes, Laurie got out of bed, then walked to the bathroom, using the toilet. Then he started the shower, saying a prayer as water ran. He stepped into the tub, recalling the last time he'd been in a hotel, just a couple of months ago. Stan had been waiting behind the shower curtain and.... Now Laurie was alone, but if he could find a vacant seat on a west-bound plane, perhaps by evening's end he'd be sitting on Lynne's couch, crooning a lullaby to Jane. Closing his eyes, Laurie let the water wash away his tears.

Two hours later, he sat in his kitchen, a cup of coffee near his left hand. Agatha had said little, although she was relieved that Lynne wouldn't be alone, at least for the short term. Laurie didn't ask about Stan, nor had Agatha revealed much more than Stanford had looked very tired. Laurie would leave him a note, detailing his flight information. Laurie wasn't sure if he'd tell Stan that he loved him. That might be like rubbing salt in a wound.

Laurie imagined Stanford was feeling more than fatigue, but for now distance would be best. Maybe once Eric was home and could speak for himself, Stan might be persuaded to.... Laurie sighed, sipped his coffee, then stood. He needed to pack; while he wouldn't arrive until long after Jane was in bed, he would get there that evening. "Thanks for the coffee," he said, placing his mug in the sink. He didn't know when he would enjoy another cup of Agatha's brew, which seemed depressing. As he turned to leave, Agatha cleared her throat. Laurie turned back, meeting her gaze. "What?" he said. "He told me to leave, not sure if he mentioned that to you. I'm just doing what he wants."

Agatha started to speak, then she paused, gazing around the room. Then she met Laurie's eyes. He knew she wanted to ask what had sparked this horrible situation, for the longer Laurie stood there, the worse he felt. This was his home and while Eric's life was difficult to accept, it was the truth. Laurie couldn't do anything to change that, nor was there any way he could force Stan to believe him. Staying in New York was futile, and Lynne could use his assistance. Laurie would be introduced to Sam and Renee's kids, and when Eric got home, Laurie could help in whatever manner was necessary. Then, and only then, might Stan be willing to again hear what was so painful, but accurate. It wasn't correct, Laurie thought, quite erroneous actually, like what most people thought of two men falling in love.

That irony flitted in, then out, of Laurie's mind. "Agatha...." He sighed again, for seeing the anguish in her eyes was nearly as unpalatable as the horror in Stan's from last night. "I gotta pack, need to be at the airport before one."

He turned around, taking slow steps, wondering if she would speak. She sniffled, but said nothing. Laurie exited the kitchen to what sounded like her blowing her nose and that sound stayed with him as he walked past the library, the door closed. Reaching his bedroom, Laurie looked behind him, but he was alone. He entered the room, finding the bed was made, but like it had been done in a rush. Laurie went to the closet, taking a suitcase from the upper shelf. He set it on the mattress, quickly filling it. He wasn't sure how cold it would get, nor how long he might be away. If he needed more clothes, he would purchase them there.

Closing the case, he stared at Stan's side of their bed. If Laurie wanted to be an ass, he could leave a note in the kitchen, but he hurt all over, and knew Stan did too, although he was ignoring the pain. Laurie hefted the suitcase into the living room, then turned back for the library; he'd write the note there, leaving it on Stan's pillow. It would look sappy, but Laurie was heartbroken and wouldn't pretend otherwise. Opening the door, a strange smell greeted him, then he gazed at the what constituted the men's bar. The trolley looked undisturbed, although the gin decanter was out of place.

Laurie shrugged, then sat at the desk, pulling paper and a pencil from the middle drawer. He didn't write much, for there was little to be said. He signed it I love you, then folded it in half. As he put the pencil back, something on the floor glittered. Leaning over, Laurie found glass shards stuck in the carpet.

Carefully he moved from the chair, then squatted, noticing larger pieces against the wall. He picked up the biggest ones, finding the carpet was slightly damp. He smelled gin, then gazed at the trolley. Laurie's heart raced; he imagined what might have happened, but would probably never learn the details. Either he and Stan would move past this and not need to talk about it or they would never speak about anything meaningful again.

Laurie dumped the broken glass into the trash, then reached for more paper, crumpling a few sheets over the glass. Then he retrieved the note, but didn't bother to write Stan's name on the outside. Leaving the library, Laurie closed the door behind him, then walked to his room where he placed the note where Stan wouldn't miss it. Laurie didn't remember if their bedroom door had been open or shut. He left it open, taking long strides to the living room. He would grab his coat on the way out, his wraps as well. But there was still one goodbye to make.

Agatha was seated at the table, a coffee cup in front of her. Laurie sat next to her, then clasped her hands in his. He wanted to say he would be back, but honestly he wasn't sure if that was true, or at least not for longer than it took to gather more clothes. In a way, he wished she knew the truth, but the idea of trying to explain it made him dizzy. "Not sure if I'll see you before Thanksgiving. If I don't, have a good holiday."

She nodded, but wouldn't meet his gaze. It was then Laurie realized he had never seen her cry. He was on the verge, but didn't want to further upset her. "I'll drop you a line, send you some pictures. Jesus, I forgot my camera. I'll just use Lynne's."

Agatha nodded, then looked his way. "You're all in my prayers, and I'll see what I can do here."

Laurie blinked away tears, releasing her hands. "I don't know what can be done, but see what you can manage."

He stood to leave, but she reached for his arm. "Do you still love him?" she asked softly.

"You know I do."

She nodded again, then sighed. "Go on, don't want you to miss your flight."

"Yeah." He wanted to say more, but was tongue-tied. Instead he leaned over, kissing her forehead. She looked slightly startled, but her smile was genuine. Laurie grinned back, then hastily left the room. He glanced down the hallway, then headed for the living room. With his suitcase in hand, he collected his coat and wraps, then left the apartment with no idea of when he would return.

As Laurie's plane rumbled along the tarmac, night had fallen over Oslo, as well as snow drifting from the sky. Klaudia had known snow was coming, feeling within her bones an achiness that had increased as she grew older. Sometimes Sigrun complained of the same thing, but Klaudia never noted her own feelings. She had spent years shutting off that part of her heart, but as her cigarette burned to ash, she stared at the letter which had been waiting for her, maybe as long as she had lived in Norway. She had tried to escape her past, but somehow Marek Jagucki wouldn't leave her alone.

Perhaps it was her own fault, having named her son for that man, or maybe fate was playing a cruel trick. Klaudia wasn't sure if she deserved such treatment, but within the letter, which had been addressed to Klaudia Lisowski Henrichsen, Marek Jagucki had made his feelings plain. Maybe he hadn't needed to go to all that fuss, her maiden name on the envelope some link to their past, not to mention his Polish, which was still very good. He probably hadn't used it since he left for Britain, a detail from his previous note. This letter was less fact-oriented, more emotionally-driven. He had written, he said, because after all these years, he still cared deeply for her.

He knew that perhaps his feelings might go unrequited. After all, she had made it clear that no further correspondence was needed. But Marek felt obliged to share what otherwise would have remained unstated. For if Klaudia hadn't written to Eric in the first place, asking a somewhat personal question, Marek never would have had the opportunity to celebrate Klaudia's survival. And indeed, he wrote, what a joyous miracle it was. Initially Klaudia had skimmed the letter, glossing over the wordier phrases. But now having read it several times, she couldn't rid herself of memories, some from her earliest recollections. She had grown up with this person merely three hundred meters away. Thousands of kilometers and so many moments now separated them, but as if Marek lived along Klaudia's snow-covered street, she could imagine his smile, hear his laughter, feel his tenderness. Theirs hadn't been a large village; if not for the war, she probably wouldn't have left. She probably would have married.... She fought tears, for to cry after all this time was silly. As a girl she had been lighthearted, in part that the Jagucki family possessed an abundant supply of.... She had always been laughing with Marek's sister Ania, or was gently teased by his older brother Dominik, or entertained by the middle child whose gift for languages indicated Marek was destined for great things. And he had done well for himself, Klaudia would admit, what with living in America, even if he was a man of God.

He'd gotten out of Poland, had survived a most horrific atrocity. And to top all that, he loved her, which hadn't been precisely stated, but Klaudia wasn't a fool. Or was she, for she was sitting in her chilly house late at night mulling over Marek's letter. She should be in bed, although it was Friday, All Saints Day. Yesterday was Reformation Day, which to this nation of Lutherans was a big event. Klaudia was an atheist, but how ironic that Marek had gravitated to the church. Or maybe it wasn't that strange, for his uncle had been a minister and.... Klaudia shivered, then stared at her dying cigarette. She stubbed it out, then rubbed her upper arms. She should go to bed, and when morning came, let the day pass right by her.

But she couldn't move from the letter, a reminder of her past as if Marek had written it two decades ago, and only now had it found its way to her door. How many nights had she stayed up wondering about him, considering moments that were impossible to retrieve. Yet here he was, acting like all they had to do was wish upon a star and everything in both of their lives would fit into some version of happily ever after. She didn't remember him as simple-minded, he was one of the smartest people she had known. Then she laughed, for she hadn't known that many people. She still didn't, preferring to keep her circle small. Then she scowled; her circle was Sigrun and Marek and.... Klaudia trembled. She had lied to her husband's face when he asked about that name, but her parents were dead, no one to point out the falsehood. She had never wanted a girl, and what would it have mattered anyway? A daughter would have given her more trouble, just like a certain bothersome pest from Klaudia's past.

Yet, something flickered within Klaudia, she couldn't ignore it. She couldn't stop staring at Marek's handwriting, which didn't seem to have changed over the years. He used to write her notes, leaving them along her bedroom windowsill, tucked in a small crack that over the years had grown wider from his efforts. After he was gone, the wind had blown through that crack, chilling her more than any Norwegian winter ever had. Now she could hear the wind, although she knew it wasn't from outside her house. It was in her mind, dredged from how far down she had buried it, stirred by Marek's words. How dare he do that to her?

After all she had done to forget him, yet perhaps it would have been impossible to completely set aside the only man.... Damn Sigrun and that American painter and Klaudia's insatiable curiosity. She'd had to know if Marek was that baby's father, but what difference would it make, had it made? Klaudia's son was now beset with seizures. Marek wasn't even married, he'd made that plain enough, Klaudia snorted aloud. What did he want, she wondered, reaching for the last page of the letter, yet hesitating. It seemed to glow in the middle of the table, the paper crisp, his handwriting like an electrical charge woven into the very essence of.... One woman who carried a similar torch, unable to douse an everlasting flame.

"Humph," she clucked, grabbing the sheet, which felt soothing in her hands. Or was it his final request, that if she was at all like-minded, he would enjoy continuing the correspondence. He realized that many years and events had come between them, however.... As if Marek sat across from her, Klaudia could see his smile, inhale his warmth, reach for his hand. She blinked several times, yet the apparition remained, erasing her chill and easing a smile onto her face. She wanted to speak, but remained silent as the ghost folded his hands together, then placed them on the table. Then Klaudia cleared her throat. "What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

He nodded at the paper, still within her hand. She trembled, gazing at the sheet, then to the man across. "You're so far away," she said.

He shook his head, still wearing that grin.

Looking at his handwriting, she could hear him say the words, his voice lively in their native tongue as though it was a language only for them. No one else knew how to lift her spirits or calm her heart. He'd possessed the key to her heart ever since.... Since not long before he left, although it had been unspoken for years prior. For how many years had this man been destined for this moment; all of them, Klaudia decided, wiping tears from her face. All of them.

She never went to sleep that night, writing then rewriting a reply. When Sigrun knocked at mid-morning, Klaudia had fashioned what she permitted might be an acceptable answer, although it was all in Polish, and if she tried to read it aloud, she would fall apart. Sigrun understood, making another pot of coffee, then running home for more cigarettes. The women spent that afternoon under a falling blanket of Scandinavian snow, but the hopes of Klaudia's youth kept them warm and dry while smokes were shared as well as a few memories, which Klaudia related in her own language. Sigrun seemed to understand, gently patting her friend's hand, or merely nodding her head. By suppertime, Klaudia's response was complete, sealed in an envelope. It would be mailed on Monday and Sigrun would accompany Klaudia to the post office, sending it herself if necessary.
Chapter 151

As that letter was placed into a bin marked International Mail, Stanford arrived at his office, his steps heavy. The weekend had dragged past and other than talking to Rose yesterday, Stanford hadn't spoken to another human being since saying goodnight to Agatha on Friday. That was before he'd seen Laurie's note, which had initially been torn into four pieces, then four more, then painstakingly taped back together. Stanford had done that on Saturday, and now reaching his desk, he wondered why he had bothered. It had given him something to do at the time, he permitted, but safely ensconced within his office, reality wasn't at all akin to that letter, which that evening Stanford would throw in the garbage. Reality was where he sat, surrounded by solid walls and other skyscrapers. Truth was the business of making money, and if Stanford wanted anything at all abstract, he had several clients upon whom to call. He didn't consciously think about Eric while sipping his coffee, thumbing through mail he had ignored on Friday. Stanford focused on work, a concrete notion with no whimsical ideas attached.

Yet, as the morning wore on, more coffee ingested, Stanford found himself growing shaky. When Emily brought that day's post, along with another mug of java, Stanford had to steady his hands, giving her the empty cup. Emily gave him a funny look, then Stanford gazed at her, did she know too? Then he shook his head. "Thank you," he said. "I had an extra cup at home this morning. Probably won't need any more today."

"Of course Mr. Taylor. Some water instead?"

"Yes, please." Stanford tried to keep his voice even, but he felt thoroughly shaken. Emily set a glass of water on a coaster, then stood back. He met her gaze, her eyes tender. She looked so young, and no, she had no idea of the upheaval into which Stanford had been thrust. "Thank you Emily."

He spoke without thinking, but referring to her as Miss Harold would have seemed.... Then Stanford shook his head, what on earth was going on in his life? He looked up again; she appeared surprised, but only nodded, then turned around, closing the door behind her as she left. Stanford was alone and for a few seconds nothing seemed amiss. Then he stared at the door; what he would give if Laurie walked into that room.

The ache began in the middle of his chest, where it had throbbed on and off all weekend, but not merely in sorrow. Often Stanford had been furious for the absurdity of Laurie's insane claim. Only for moments did Stanford permit the smallest possibility that maybe Laurie had told the truth. When that had happened, Stanford had immediately tamped that down, for human beings didn't turn into.... Stanford again considered that, for now his head hurt, but not like an ordinary headache. It felt as if sections were being pried apart so an unholy truth could find a place to take root. He reached for his mug, using both hands, which trembled with such force that coffee dribbled onto the desk. Yet Stanford needed that brew, not as pleasing as Agatha's but something hot and caffeinated and.... He needed to alter his own chemistry, he wryly smiled to himself. Nothing in his life would ever be the same.

Going to work on Friday, he had tried to delude himself, Laurie's crazy insinuations whirling in his head. Now having had a few days alone, Stanford needed to make a decision. Either he believed that utter hogwash or.... The alternative made Stanford's stomach reel, for the alternative was the life he'd lived for the last three days as an empty shell. But what choice had Laurie given him, presenting Stanford with nothing that could be taken at face value. Sipping the coffee, Stanford relished the heat sliding down his throat, easing a dryness that had plagued him since he'd told Laurie to leave. But if Laurie had stood there for another minute, one more second even, Stanford would have said something far more harmful than ordering his.... Partner, lover, who was Laurie now? He was nuts, Stanford thought, as caffeine entered his veins, soothing all the worries.

Laurie had lost it, that was all Stanford could allow. He wasn't sure what might happen when Eric was discharged from wherever he was seeking treatment, maybe Eric and Lynne could send Laurie to that hospital. Then Stanford shivered. Laurie had gone to the Snyders, what in God's name might he do to Lynne? He needed help, he needed.... Stanford stared at the telephone. According to Laurie, Lynne believed this too. She had confirmed it, but maybe that was another falsehood. Were Lynne and Jane safe?

Never in his life had Stanford felt so torn. Not every decision he'd made had been easy, but he was methodical, and even having chosen to live with Laurie had carried no specter of doubt. Always weighing the pros and cons, Stanford followed a prudent course, and while at times he had to correct a mistake, most of his choices were successful. If he called Lynne now, what would he learn, other than Laurie had arrived safely, which certainly had been a concern, as Stanford couldn't simply erase that man from his life. But if Lynne sounded frightened, what could Stanford do, other than contact Sam or Marek, but according to Laurie at least Sam had been given this line. Had Eric's pastor heard a similar story, were they all nuts out there? Stanford took another drink, then carefully placed the cup back on the coaster. What responsibility was it of his to check up on Lynne, he then mused. She was merely the wife of one of his clients, she was.... A member of his family, he thought, swallowing hard. If Claire, Louise, or Melanie called in a time of trouble, he would be obliged to offer whatever assistance he could muster. And now, much to his surprise, Lynne Snyder had fallen under that familial umbrella. Stanford didn't ponder where that left Eric. Instead the art dealer opened his desk, pulling out an old address book. Flipping through it, he reached the S's, then scanned names until Eric Snyder appeared.

Stanford studied the painter's street address and telephone number; all that information had remained the same since the day Stanford had written it. How much else had changed, he mused, picking up the receiver, asking to make a long distance call. He didn't check the time, for it was mid-morning on the East Coast, of course Lynne and Jane and.... All in the Snyder house were awake, Stanford assumed.

The phone rang several times, then Lynne answered. "Hello?"

"Good morning Lynne." Stanford took a breath, then exhaled audibly.

"Oh Stanford, how good to hear from you!"

Her tone was a mix of relief and pleasure, the former giving him pause, the latter making him grateful. "Well, we hadn't spoken in a while and I was just calling to...." He needed to choose his words carefully. "Make sure you and Jane were all right."

"We're fine. Jane had a cold last week, but she's feeling much better now."

Stanford hadn't expected that sort of response; he'd imagined Lynne falling into tears, although the reason for her upset wouldn't have been clear, too many possibilities. But Lynne's tone was as usual, with a hint of unspoken hope. Realizing the basis for her optimism, he cleared his throat. "Well, I'm glad to hear all is well there." Then he thought about the baby, but as he never asked about something so personal, he wouldn't inquire now. Nor would he ask after....

"Stanford, Laurie's right here. Would you like to speak with him?"

A sick sensation spread through Stanford, starting with a pounding headache, going straight into his churning stomach, shooting back northward into the center of his chest, which ached fiercely. "No," he mumbled, then he coughed, which didn't alleviate any of his agonies. "I just wanted to...."

"I understand, it's a difficult time." Lynne's sigh was brief. "Well, we appreciate hearing from you. Please know that you're welcome here anytime. And Stanford...."

"Yes, I'll be sure to keep in touch. Goodbye Lynne."

"Stan, you still there?"

As Laurie spoke, Stanford placed the receiver into the cradle, although he didn't slam it down. While Lynne had sounded upbeat, Laurie's plaintive tone had forced Stanford's hand, although he'd been on the verge of closing the call. Stanford stared at the telephone, uncertain of what he had learned. Lynne didn't sound as if she, Jane, and the baby were in danger. Laurie had seemed distraught. None of those felt right to Stanford, or rather, they didn't fit the picture of accepted reality. Lynne should have been scared to death, Laurie with a maniacal tenor to his voice. But as usual Lynne was a tower of strength while Laurie sounded.... Heartbroken, which pierced Stanford to his core. But for what reason was any of this possible? Eric wasn't a hawk, that was bullshit. Seth was the instigator of all of this, yet, Laurie had never previously fallen victim to such nonsense. From every angle Stanford considered, no option made sense.

That might be the most disarming part of what had engulfed Stanford's life since.... He'd set last Thursday far away, the confusion associated with that evening too much for him to ponder. Confusion and lies and.... The deepest pain, however, was in Laurie's voice, which hadn't changed over the weekend, desperation mixed with a haunted awareness that what the men had blissfully shared for so many years was threatened. Yet, Laurie had disregarded that history; while Stanford had warned him, Laurie had crossed a line that now stretched over three thousand miles. Lynne didn't seem worried, other than for.... She was fine, Eric was the one they needed to consider.

But not because he was a.... Now Stanford smiled, a chuckle escaping from his parched lips. He reached for the coffee, his hands steady, as was his resolve. If Laurie wanted to persist in this foolishness and if Lynne was willing to put up with him, Stanford would leave them alone. Stanford finished the coffee, not noting any caffeine rush. He placed the empty mug on its coaster, grabbing that day's mail. It was business as usual in New York, no time to let down one's guard.

Laurie had hung up the phone, but still stared at it, wishing he had left well enough alone. While he was thankful to be where he was, he ached all over, and he knew Stan did too. Laurie wasn't sure why Stan had reached out, perhaps only to check on Lynne. Laurie didn't know what Stan had said initially, but Lynne's responses weren't out of the ordinary. Then Laurie smiled. Stanford's curiosity had overruled his usually staid character, and for that Laurie was grateful.

Lynne gently patted his shoulder. "More coffee?" she asked.

He nodded, then faced her. She looked quite pregnant now, and indeed he was happy to be there. Over the weekend he had fetched wood, cared for Jane while Lynne rested, and most importantly was surrounded by people in the know. No secrets strangled him, nothing he had to keep below the surface. Not even how much his heart ached, for on Saturday night both he and Lynne had wept for those they missed. Their outbursts had been odd but healing, for Laurie had never broken down around anyone, not that he'd ever previously had cause. But in that house, on that property, who Laurie loved carried no shame. Not even at Michael's had Laurie felt that free.

He'd always possessed a sense of suppression, although of the two, Laurie was more bold. Yet propriety dictated that what the men shared had to remain concealed. Perhaps Laurie felt so unfettered because what he and Stan had was in upheaval. Maybe there was nothing to protect, Laurie sighed, joining Jane, who sat at the table in her big girl chair. Both of these females were altered, Lynne in size, Jane in intellect. Jane was trying to put two words together; more pie seemed her phrase of choice, be it breakfast, lunch, or suppertime. New baby was also spoken, as were Ann, Paul, and Lene, which Laurie assumed was short for Helene. Laurie had met Paul and Ann yesterday at lunch after he had escorted Lynne and Jane to St. Matthew's. It had been good to see Marek, who understood why Laurie was there. Nearly everyone Lynne closely associated with knew about Eric, and the rest seemed unaffected by his absence.

But those who loved him most needed him home, and Laurie hoped for his and Stanford's sakes that return would be soon. Not that Stan would take Eric's word for it, but at least Eric would be in this house recovering from.... Laurie had told Lynne that Eric no longer communicated with Seth, or not as a human being. She hadn't been alarmed, only hoping that wouldn't impede Seth's continued recovery. Then Laurie had shared the last sentiment Eric gave to Seth, which made Lynne weep hard. Laurie wasn't sure if her tears were from the poignant nature of that admonition or whether Seth would heed it.

Laurie had called the Kerr Hospital on Saturday, leaving a message for Seth about Laurie's change of location. Laurie needed to contact his clients about this move, which he hoped was temporary, although the future seemed wrapped in a thick mist. The only concrete notions were the coming baby and Thanksgiving with the Aherns.

That holiday would be spent on the West Coast unless Stanford had an abrupt change of heart, but Laurie wouldn't hold out that sort of hope. Sam had actually invited Laurie, for the subject came up yesterday, although Sam seemed uncomfortable as soon as he'd said it. But Renee reiterated the offer and Laurie looked forward to that event. He then glanced at Lynne, who sat on Jane's other side. Mother and daughter smiled at him and Laurie wondered if he might still be here when one more joined this family.

He didn't mean Eric, but Laurie didn't speak to that idea. "Have you been talking to me all this time?" he chuckled.

Lynne shook her head. "No, but you're a lot like Eric. Sometimes he'd stare off and...."

Her voice quivered and Laurie reached for her hands, squeezing them gently. "There's just so much on my mind."

"I can imagine. I'm glad he called, although I wish he'd stayed on the line longer."

"That was about all he could manage." Laurie sighed. "I'm surprised he called at all."

"He loves you and...." Lynne smiled. "And I think he wanted to test the water."

"See if I was terrorizing you two, you mean." Laurie shrugged. "Which's only fair. He wanted to call you last Thursday and I told him to leave you alone. Maybe I should've let him ask, maybe...."

Laurie had no idea how he could have made the truth any less unpalatable. He sighed again. "I really don't know what happens now." He looked at Lynne. "But thanks for taking me in."

"It's good for all of us." She leaned back, patting the baby. "The Aherns are busy with their kids and while I know they wanna help...." Lynne smiled. "Sam told me yesterday that while he was sorry for the reason, he's glad you're here."

"Renee said the same thing." Then Laurie grinned. "Those kids, my God, it's like they're all really related."

"Yeah, and Ann is so much like her mother." Lynne giggled, then wiped away a few tears. "It's been such a blessing and I know Eric will be thrilled for them."

Laurie stared at her, then nodded. "I never realized how difficult it was for you two all these years."

"We're a lot alike, you and Stanford and me and Eric." Lynne took a deep breath, then exhaled. "We'd wished there'd been some way to tell you both, just so you knew you weren't the only ones...." Her lip trembled, then she removed Jane from the seat. Jane snuggled against her mother until Lynne began to laugh. "My goodness but these two better get along. Right now someone can't stand big sister's intrusion."

Laurie laughed, but hadn't missed what Lynne was about to say. "Maybe Junior knows this's the only time they're gonna get you alone. Jane doesn't seem to mind."

"She has no idea." Lynne smoothed Jane's hair from her face. Then Jane was the recipient of kisses, which made her giggle. Lynne then gazed at Laurie. "I never thought I'd have all this, not ever. I know the future looks uncertain Laurie, but it's gonna be okay."

The conviction of her voice made him inwardly shiver. "From your lips to God's ears."

Putting Jane back in her chair, Lynne started to speak, then again she wiped tears from her eyes. She cleared her throat, then gripped one of Laurie's hands. "Two years ago Eric almost died. He'd only been gone about three weeks, but he came back so sick I knew I could lose him. We spent all that weekend in bed, he had a fever of one hundred and five, was delirious, and there was nothing I could do but wait. And believe me, waiting was all I could do; he wouldn't eat, could barely sleep, was just lingering in this void." She caressed Jane's head, then Lynne met Laurie's eyes. "He had one foot here and one foot with Christ. On Christmas Eve, I woke to find him staring at me, I don't know how long I'd been asleep, or how long he'd been awake, but he was alive and seemed okay. Laurie, he could've suffered brain damage from the fever, he could've just slipped away. But all that weekend I knew no matter what happened, we'd be all right. And I don't mean me and this girl here." Lynne smiled at Jane, who gave her mother a wide grin. "Every time Eric left, I felt so alone, but he always came back, and those trips were just a few days at most. Then when he was gone all those months, that's when I began to change. I won't bore you with the details, but I had to learn so much about hope, that we have to be joyful even if it seems so bleak. Because honestly, while I love my daughter, and this baby too, and goodness knows I love my husband, there is something beyond this life." She chuckled. "I never imagined thinking such things, the craziest part of my life was Eric, which granted was fairly strange. But even that can't compare to what I know in my heart. Renee told me this, oh my goodness, even before she saw Eric change, that God hears all our prayers. I didn't have faith then, and between us, I took her comment with a rather condescending mind. But she was absolutely right." Lynne shook her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go off on some tangent. I just wanted...."

Tears fell down Laurie's face, although they weren't painful like those shed on Saturday. These were similar to those he had wept at the sand pit, but more healing. Was that because Lynne was grasping his hands, her message spoken with a deep affirmation of love, or that for the first time in Laurie's life, God was tangible within Lynne's warm touch and her expectant voice. Yet, she wasn't thinking of her baby, or about Eric. Her eagerness was straight from the conviction that sprang from.... Laurie trembled, then went to his feet, but immediately he knelt between Lynne and Jane. Lying his head on what remained of Lynne's lap, Laurie had no idea if or when he and Stan would be reunited, but a more lasting relationship was being brokered. It had nothing to do with the Snyder women, although Laurie knew they would always be a part of his life. This sense of belonging had been brought to his attention through these ladies, but they were mere channels. Laurie laughed as he wiped his cheeks, then he gazed up, first at Jane who looked puzzled. Then Laurie found Lynne's eyes, which also were misty. They didn't speak as she nodded, then she stroked his head. Laurie broke into laughter, stirring Jane's giggles. Then he sat on the floor, taking Jane into his arms. Lynne didn't join them, but she placed one of Laurie's hands on the baby, who tumbled in agreement.
Chapter 152

Winter weather arrived on Laurie's heels, keeping the Snyder-Abrams clan inside. Roads were icy as sleet fell, but Sam braved the streets while Laurie kept the fireplace aglow. Renee was glad that Ann didn't go into details with Paul about those visits, for the little boy might have felt slighted. Yet Renee coveted the togetherness, even if two were missing.

Mostly Renee enjoyed sharing in the role of motherhood. Lynne seemed bigger every time Renee saw her, and Jane was more animated, which Renee presumed was due to another adult's presence. Yet Jane didn't treat Laurie any differently than how she did Sam, and Renee felt even closer to her godchild. Ann was slowly warming to Laurie, but she had asked if he was Lynne's husband. Quickly Laurie told an artful lie, that he was Lynne's brother, and was visiting from New York City. Ann didn't seem intrigued by either fact, but she did start calling him Uncle Laurie. Lynne was still referred to as Jane's mama, but Ann was interested in when the new baby would arrive. Two months remained, Sam told the little girl, not that Ann understood how long that was. But as Sam responded, Renee shivered, wondering not only if Eric would be home, but where might Laurie be?

By the end of Laurie's first week, there was no clear answer to either question. Seth was still in Florida and Stanford hadn't again contacted the Snyder household, although he had been in touch with the Aherns, strictly about art. The landscape had been packed up, and a check had arrived at their bank, a sum that Renee considered with a slightly ominous sense attached. Eventually Renee would return to work, once Ann was in school full time, but even then Renee wouldn't need to be away from home for more than half days. The landscape had fetched more than she or Sam had dreamed, and a few decisions had already been made. They would pay off their house, and of course get another car. Sam wanted a station wagon and while Renee didn't care, she didn't want her family knowing what they had earned from the painting's sale. Perhaps Lynne had an idea, and of course Laurie was aware. Other than them, no one else needed to know.

Renee spoke to her mother daily now, for Marie loved updates about her newest grandchildren. Marie said little about the son dwelling under her roof, but Renee had spoken to Brenda during the week; her priest had asked her to give Ritchie another chance. Brenda wasn't sure what to do, but Renee had been blunt; unless Ritchie got sober, nothing in the couple's marriage would be different than before. Renee wasn't sure what would happen, although she told Sam that Ritchie would never stop drinking. He would end up dead like their grandparents, all because of booze.

Marie and Eugene had braved the bad weather to visit the Aherns; while Renee and her mother chatted in the kitchen, Gene taught Paul and Ann how to play Go Fish, Sam helping Ann hold the cards in her small hands. Paul caught on quickly, but Ann grew bored. She joined the ladies, sitting on Renee's lap while Marie tried to avoid speaking about Ritchie and Brenda. Marie knew how unwell Ritchie was, but the notion of divorce ran so counter to the family's faith. After the Nolans left, Renee emptied out the spare ashtray, brought out for her father's visit. Then she wondered how her mother would react if Brenda did go through with it. Marie would take it harder than Ritchie would.

Over the weekend, the Aherns went car shopping, leaning toward another Bel Air, but this model was a nine-passenger station wagon. Sam asked Laurie if he could drive home the old car; Renee had offered, but Sam felt this was a man's task. On Monday, after dropping off Renee and Ann at the Snyders', Sam and Laurie went to the dealership. The manager had offered to take the old car as a trade-in, but Sam wasn't ready to part with it. He didn't know what he would do with the Bel Air coupe, but he didn't feel he could sell it until Eric had finished that painting. Lynne had told Sam he could keep one of the cars with her, freeing up space in the Aherns' driveway. Leading Laurie back to the Snyders', Sam wasn't sure which car to sell, although for now he would leave the old car at Lynne's. Sam parked the station wagon in front of the gate and Laurie pulled up in the old car behind him. The weather had turned mild again and both men stood for a moment, admiring the vehicles.

"You know I rarely drive, but that was fun." Laurie smiled, motioning to the old car. "I'll keep the battery fresh till you decide what to do."

Sam smiled. "I suppose there's no need, I mean...." He had enjoyed Laurie's company while the paperwork had been completed. Now Sam wanted to show off another.... Another new car seemed exorbitant, but this time Sam hadn't erred on the side of caution. Next summer, he could drive both the Aherns and Snyders wherever the families decided to go, and if Laurie was still around, room would remain for him too. Sam had prayed it wouldn't come to that, but having once felt the way Stanford did now, Sam wasn't sure how the New Yorkers' situation would be rectified. It might take Stanford witnessing a most improbable event, yet Sam so hoped once Eric was home, that would be it.

"Shall we go announce our arrival?"

Laurie's tone was jovial, but Sam assumed much swirled behind Laurie's smile. "Sure. Then Renee and I should be on our way, gotta get Paul in an hour."

That little boy hadn't been told about this outing and while heading to the house, Sam wondered what he might think of the station wagon. The Snyder and Ahern ladies were in the kitchen, and it took a moment for Lynne and Renee to find the girls' jackets. Sam recalled the last time he had shown off a new vehicle, on Jane's first birthday. This occasion felt remarkably different, but many factors could be called into account. As the group trekked to the gate, Lynne and Renee were several steps behind, Ann and Jane leading the procession. Sam walked beside Laurie, then they waited for the mothers to join them.

As they stepped through the gate, Sam noted how Lynne's effusive tone blended with Renee's, even if Renee had just seen this automobile on the dealer's lot. Laurie was chatty, picking up Jane, pointing out where she could sit beside Ann when the families took trips together. Ann approached Sam and he collected her, following Laurie and Jane. Sam let Laurie do the talking, hearing a newfound tone in that man's voice. It wasn't like Laurie was taking over for Eric, but discovering a role previously unconsidered.

Sam wondered if Renee and Lynne heard the same, but they were discussing the car. Renee thought it looked bigger than on the lot, and she asked Lynne if it seemed too large. Lynne noted that no, it was just right, a smile in her voice. Sam slowed his steps, for Lynne's were weary, then Laurie caught up to them as if they were doing laps around the car. Jane clapped, then fought to be put down. Laurie acquiesced, then Ann did the same. The girls chased each other around the length of both vehicles, loudly laughing.

As the mothers leaned against the back of the station wagon, Sam continued to circle, mostly keeping watch along the road. Laurie did the same, then they caught each other's gaze, smiling broadly. Sam felt he was looking in a mirror, although it wasn't about physical similarities. Laurie paid attention to the girls' location as though he was more than a relative, yet without the rightful claim as a.... Sam shivered, for in the last few weeks he had changed practically overnight from someone outside peering in to a man firmly settled by paternal roots. Would Laurie leave Stanford, not for Lynne, Sam knew, but for someone who could give him this sort of life? That felt as wrong to Sam as Laurie being apart from Stanford, which instantly made Sam flinch, but not for the same reason he had previously been uncomfortable around those men. Laurie looked lonely, even if he laughed, having caught Jane in his arms, and now Ann was in his grip. The girls giggled, then he let them go, and they took off again, Ann faster than Jane, but Lynne's daughter wasn't far behind. Laurie followed them, his long strides permitting him to catch them easily, then he lagged behind, hollering he was going to get them. Ann's laughter made Sam's heart soar, but a small worry was attached as Jane's chuckles rang out; Eric and Stanford should be sharing in this merriment. Not that Stanford would be running after the children, but Eric would, or he'd be racing Laurie. Sam sighed, then walked to where Renee and Lynne still gabbed. Ann and Jane made another pass, Laurie right behind them.

"Don't know who's the biggest kid," Lynne smiled. "If nothing else, Jane will sleep well this afternoon."

"Laurie might wanna catch forty winks too." Renee gripped Sam's hand. "We should be taking off, need to get Paul soon."

"Yeah and I'm tired. Maybe all three of us will nap after lunch." Lynne gazed at Sam. "What a good choice. Eric and I need to look into a new car."

Sam nodded, but felt a chill. Lynne's tone was cheerful; how did she maintain such optimism? Then he smiled, feeling a little silly. Other than Frannie, Sam had never encountered such solid faith, and Lynne had only been going to church for a little over two years. Perhaps life with Eric had laid the foundation for this kind of strength. Then Sam winced and had to look away. Eric had said something along those lines the night he practically browbeat Sam into going for Renee. All Eric knew about forgiveness he had learned from his wife.

That woman now stood with her palms placed along her back, but her smile shone as she gazed at the trio still running around the cars. Laurie laughed as Ann yelled she was going to get him, Jane hollering nothing that Sam could understand, yet her joy was clear. As Laurie passed, Renee intercepted Ann, and while she protested briefly, soon she placed her head against Renee's shoulder. As Jane caught up, Laurie hoisted her into the air, then walked to where Lynne waited. Sam observed a family, albeit bound with transitory ties; Laurie didn't embrace Lynne, nor did she move toward him. Jane wiggled in Laurie's grasp, then went to her mother's arms. It was Renee to say goodbye first, followed by Lynne. Laurie shook Sam's hand, then the Aherns were on their way.

Reaching their street, Sam parked the station wagon in the driveway while Renee helped Ann from the back seat. There was just enough time for Ann to use the bathroom, then the threesome headed for the school. Ann and Renee chatted on the walk while Sam pondered what Paul might think of the car. Kindergarten was just being released as they approached and Paul ran toward them, making Sam's heart race. The boy's smile was a beacon and as they met up Sam impulsively grabbed Paul in his arms. Paul hugged Sam's neck, then asked to be put down. Sam complied, but Paul didn't go far, grasping Sam's hand. The grip was strong as Renee and Ann reached them. "How was school?" Renee asked.

"Good. What's for lunch?" Paul asked that every day, and usually the answer was the same, sandwiches of some kind. That day Renee giggled. "Maybe we'll go out for lunch today."

They hadn't discussed that idea, but Sam nodded. Paul gave them each a sharp stare. "Why not sandwiches?" he asked.

"Paul, guess what Daddy brought home?" Ann's tone held a secret, then she started to laugh.

"What?" Paul asked, looking at Sam.

"You'll see in a few minutes." Sam smiled, clutching Paul's hand. "Let's go find out."

The foursome walked as quickly as Ann's short legs allowed. Then Renee picked her up and their pace increased. As they reached their street, Ann pointed toward the Aherns' house. "Look Paul, lookit what Daddy bought!"

As they approached the driveway, Paul's grip increased. Then he released Sam's hand. The boy gazed up at his father, trembling. "We're not gonna ride in that are we?"

Sam knelt beside Paul. "Well yeah, I mean...." Sam shivered as the child's eyes filled with tears. "Paul, what's wrong?"

"They never came back. They said they were gonna come back but they never did. We waited and waited and...." Paul turned toward Sam, then wrapped his arms around Sam's neck. Then hollow cries were thrust upon Sam's shoulder.

Having set Ann down, Renee knelt beside them. "Oh Paul, it's all right honey. Oh sweetheart!"

Sam stared at his wife, but Renee only sighed. She looked slightly ashamed, then she reached for Ann, who was starting to sniffle. "Kids, let's go inside. We'll have baloney sandwiches for lunch."

Paul still wailed and Sam stood, then picked up the youngster, who continued shaking his head, crying hard. It took him several minutes to calm, but he hardly touched his lunch. Sam sat at the table with Ann while Renee took Paul to the sofa. Soon Sam heard footsteps, but only Renee appeared. "Paul's gonna take a rest. He'll finish lunch later."

"Do I have to take a nap too?" Ann asked.

Renee sat beside her, then smoothed back Ann's hair. "We'll see."

The meal was eaten mostly in silence, although Sam had many questions for his wife. Not that Renee might have answers, but they wouldn't speak until Ann was asleep. It didn't take long, for that morning's activity had worn out the little girl. By one o'clock, Ann had fallen asleep, and as soon as Renee closed the children's bedroom door, Sam motioned for her to follow him.

They went into the kitchen, sitting at the table. Sam had moved Paul's plate to the counter, but the rest of the dishes remained. "What is it?" he said to Renee.

"They had a station wagon, a wood-paneled one." Renee stacked the empty lunch plates. "I never thought about it, I mean, it was new, and I just never imagined either one would note the significance."

Sam sighed. "I guess I can take it back to the dealership. If we tell them what happened...."

"But we need a big car."

"We'll look for a large sedan." Sam grasped Renee's hands. "Jeez, I feel terrible."

"So do I, honey. So do I." Renee looked around the room, then at Sam. "Do you think they'll take it back?"

"We just bought the other car there, hopefully they'll be happy to trade it for something else. I can't imagine they'd wanna lose our business."

Renee nodded. "Well, you know more about this than me." Then she frowned. "Sam, why don't you call Laurie, ask if he can bring the old car over. I don't want Paul to see the station wagon again."

"Yeah, that's smart." Sam stood, then headed for the phone. Lynne answered, then Sam spoke to Laurie. The conversation was brief, then Sam closed the call. "He said he'd be here in a few minutes."

"Good, that's good. My word." Then Renee gasped. "Sam, what if this, what if...."

"What?"

Renee stood, then grabbed Sam's hands, squeezing hard. "What if this sets him back, what if he decides...."

Sam had considered the same, but hadn't wished to air such theories. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Hopefully once he sees it's gone, that'll be enough."

"Yeah, hopefully." Renee took a deep breath. "I guess there were bound to be bumps in the road. I just hope...."

She blinked away tears, then Sam wiped those that trickled down her cheeks. "It's gonna be okay honey. Laurie'll be here soon and I'll go to the dealership tomorrow."

"I just don't want them to get hurt anymore. Oh Sam, the last thing I want is...."

Renee collapsed against her husband and Sam whispered that he loved her. He walked her to the sofa where they sat until Laurie quietly knocked on the door. Sam gave him the keys to the station wagon, then took those Laurie had from the old car. Sam walked Laurie out, but little was said. Laurie patted Sam's shoulder and told him to call if they needed anything. Then Laurie got into the station wagon, starting the engine. Carefully he backed out of the driveway, then drove away. Sam looked at the keys in his hand, gripping them tightly. He sighed, then headed to the street, where the old car sat. He moved it to where the wagon had been, then got out, but didn't go right back inside. Renee stood at the window, her arms crossed over her chest. Sam nodded, then slowly headed that way.
Chapter 153

By the middle of November, the Aherns had traded the station wagon for an Impala four-door sedan. Paul was still skittish about riding in the new vehicle, but hadn't displayed other anxieties related to his life in Colorado. Renee and Sam would keep their old car at Lynne's, while the Bel Air sat alongside the Impala in their driveway. Initially Sam had put Paul in the Impala's front passenger seat, then sat alongside him. Sam didn't ask questions, but Paul volunteered that in Colorado he and Ann weren't sure they liked such a big car. Roy and Beth weren't mentioned as though they had never existed. But Paul asked Sam if they could ride in the other car, pointing to the Bel Air. Sam wondered if he would end up keeping that automobile despite wishing to sell it as soon as Eric came home.

Eric's departure from Florida seemed imminent; Laurie had spoken to Dr. Sellers, who said that Seth was due to be discharged at the end of the week. The hawk still visited, Laurie had learned, but Dr. Sellers noted he had seen a change in that creature, how it no longer made eye contact, nor did it squawk as before. Seth had informed his doctor that the bird had forgotten it had been human, and the physician shared that with Laurie in a tone fully accepting the information. In relaying all that news to Lynne, Laurie had shed a few tears. The idea of Seth returning to Brooklyn as a healed man was startling, yet it seemed equal in importance to Eric finding his way home. Only that event might breach the gulf that remained between Laurie and Stanford, which was taking its toll on both men. Laurie had received a letter from Agatha, and while her message was brief, the meaning was significant. Stan had given Agatha an extended leave from work. But, she told Laurie, she had left Stanford a message in the guise of one of Eric's sketches. What he did with it was between him and Jesus.

Laurie knew which drawing she meant, the one Eric had done of Agatha in Manhattan. It hadn't prompted Stan to pose months ago, but perhaps that hadn't been its purpose. Laurie prayed about it, although not to Lynne's Lutheran interpretation of God. Laurie did attend St. Matthew's with Lynne and Jane, even joining them at the altar, receiving a blessing. While that morning in Lynne's kitchen had stirred Laurie's heart toward faith, it was to his Jewish roots he was returning, although there was no synagogue in that small town. He might not go to services until he went back east, he'd said to Lynne. But in the meantime, there was much over which to be thankful. Laurie had no idea if Seth felt similarly drawn to exploring their religious heritage, maybe they might discuss it via letters. Laurie had already written to his cousin, but wouldn't mail it until Seth was on a plane for New York, which might not occur until early next week. But having chatted with his Aunt Wilma, Laurie learned that Seth was expected for Thanksgiving. Maybe the cousins could speak for a moment sometime that day.

Lynne had an appointment with Dr. Salters on Thursday. Laurie accompanied Lynne, keeping an eye on Jane in the lobby during Lynne's exam. Then the trio headed to the Canfields', where Fran served lunch. Jane and Helene played while the adults chatted about the coming baby, Thanksgiving, and Laurie's cousin. Laurie found Fran very easy to talk to, and while she never mentioned Stanford, in her gentle tone Laurie knew both New Yorkers were in Fran's prayers. She referred to the men by that term, which had made Laurie smile. On the way home, Lynne explained that nickname's origin, her tone somewhat plaintive. Laurie squeezed her hand, but didn't speak. Yet he felt strangely optimistic. So many prayers were being said for him and Stan, from such a variety of people. Those prayers also covered Seth and Eric, whom Frannie had mentioned. She was thrilled Seth was leaving the hospital, and that Eric would soon be coming home. Yet Laurie had heard something in Fran's tone related to Lynne's condition. He knew that Fran had volunteered to assist if Eric wasn't back before Lynne delivered. Maybe she was only hoping to be among those waiting to meet the newest member of the Snyder family.

Reaching the Snyders' home, Laurie noted the extra car in front of the gate. He wondered what would become of that vehicle, then decided to take it for a spin that afternoon. His father had taught him to drive, but Laurie hadn't needed a car once he'd moved to Manhattan. Laurie didn't dwell on more than truly ancient memories, how much his dad had loved driving, even if gasoline was being rationed. Laurie parked in the driveway, killed the engine, then got out, collecting Jane from the backseat. She was sleeping, and didn't stir as he placed her over his shoulder. He followed Lynne through the gate, the day cool but dry. They walked quickly, saying nothing. Laurie knew Lynne was tired, and that she hoped Jane might continue her nap once they were inside.

If that happened, Lynne would lay down, and even if Jane didn't go back to sleep, Laurie would insist that Lynne try to rest. Only eight weeks remained of the pregnancy, and all the recent upheaval wasn't conducive to a tranquil end to Lynne's confinement. Of course, once Eric was on his way, Lynne could relax, yet that was still fraught with uncertainty. How long Eric took to transform was one notion, not to mention Laurie's presence. But Lynne never expressed any unease with Laurie's open-ended stay. She merely hoped Stanford could move past his reservations, joining those out west. As they approached the house, Laurie heard the telephone ring. Might that be Stan, Laurie wondered. Lynne caught Laurie's gaze, then she hurried to the door. By the time they got inside, the ringing had stopped.

Jane remained drowsy and Laurie toted her upstairs. He returned to the kitchen, finding Lynne seated at the table. "I'll give whoever it was another minute," she said. "If it's important, they'll call back."

Laurie nodded. Stanford would more readily speak to Lynne, although Laurie wasn't sure if she handed over the receiver what Stan might do. He'd probably hang up, Laurie sighed. Then he smiled, for by now Stanford was home from work. Without Agatha's presence, maybe Stan might be more open to speaking his mind. Even if he wanted to again dismiss what Laurie had told him, dialog was preferred to silence.

The phone rang and Lynne stood to answer it. Laurie cracked his knuckles, but as Lynne turned toward him, the receiver in her outstretched hand, Laurie sensed Stanford wasn't on the line. Lynne's eyes were wide as she gave Laurie the phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Oh Laurie, I'm so glad I reached you." Sheila spoke quickly. "I tried calling Wilma, Rose too, but I couldn't get a hold of either of them."

Laurie's heart raced, although Sheila didn't sound distressed. "What's happened?" he said, breathing deeply.

Sheila had plenty to say, and what with the long distance charges, she attempted to talk as fast as possible. Yet Laurie had difficulty digesting her news. "He's going to Israel instead of Brooklyn?"

Lynne stared at Laurie, who shrugged, then he concentrated on his aunt. "Uh, okay, but why?" Then Laurie shivered; the only person Seth knew in Israel was Norah Wasserman.

But as Sheila continued, one other acquaintance emerged. "So is Cousin Tovah in Miami now?" Laurie asked. Sheila's daughter had visited Florida much earlier in the year, Laurie recalled. Seth had mentioned their chats, and how comfortable he'd felt speaking with her. "And Seth wants to go to Tel Aviv?" Laurie phrased that as a question, but it felt more like a statement about as bizarre as all Laurie had just shared with Stan. "For how long?" Laurie asked. "Uh-huh, yeah, uh-huh." Then Laurie sighed. "Well, it's his choice. As long as Dr. Sellers thinks it's okay."

Sheila expounded upon that notion, leaving Laurie with the distinct feeling his aunt definitely had a hand in this change of plan. Yet, Laurie wasn't worried, although he knew his aunt and mother would feel differently. "I'll leave it to you and Seth to break the news to Mom and Aunt Wilma. I know everyone was looking forward to seeing him."

Laurie glanced at Lynne; she had placed her hands over her heart, her eyes still wide. "Yeah, sure. Listen, just tell him I love him, and to send me a postcard. Um, actually, have him call me before he flies. He has this number." Laurie didn't care that the Goldsmiths knew he wasn't in New York. Laurie needed to hear Seth describe this last minute decision. If he sounded at all anxious, Laurie would tell Sheila to butt out. But maybe going to Israel was just what Seth needed. And while it would break Wilma and Rose's hearts, more to matter was Seth's mental health. Then Laurie smiled. Seth was actually being discharged. Gazing at Lynne, he saw tears on her cheeks. Laurie motioned for her. She went to his side and he clutched her with his free arm. "Okay Aunt Shelia. I'll wait to hear from him tomorrow. Okay, bye-bye."

The receiver still in his hand, Laurie took a deep breath, then let it out, slowly walking to hang up the telephone. Lynne remained at his side, but she met his gaze. "Seth's going to Israel?"

Laurie nodded, then led her to the table. They sat beside each other, then Laurie grasped Lynne's hands. "Sheila said that she'd told her daughter Tovah what was happening. According to my aunt, it was Tovah's idea for Seth to go to Tel Aviv, although I wonder about that." Then Laurie smiled, for a strange joy ran all through him. "You know, it's probably the best place for him, not that Brooklyn would've been bad, but maybe this is exactly where he needs to take the next step of...." His new life, Laurie wanted to say. Seth's life should be restarted in a wholly different place, yet with recognizable landmarks, although Laurie wasn't sure if meeting up with Norah was necessary. Would Seth travel to Jerusalem, Laurie wondered, or remain in Tel Aviv until he felt those avenues had been exhausted. Laurie smiled at Lynne, explaining what he knew about Sheila's daughter, and why this may be the best course of action. Lynne nodded, then wiped her cheeks. Then she leaned back in her chair, a slow smile spreading over her face.

But she couldn't speak and Laurie felt words weren't necessary; this wasn't only Seth leaving Florida. Laurie looked around the room. How long would it take Eric to get home, maybe two weeks depending on the weather? Weather had also been on Aunt Sheila's mind, but only in relation to her nephew; temperatures in Israel wouldn't be as pleasant as Miami's, but not as brutal as in New York. Seth would fare much better in Tovah's care, Sheila had said plainly, and Tovah already had a therapist waiting. Tovah herself was arriving from Israel that night, so Seth wouldn't have to fly alone. Sheila hadn't given a date, but Laurie assumed perhaps as early as next week Seth would be on a plane, yet not heading north. What would their mothers think, Laurie then wondered. Maybe Aunt Wilma might not be overly bothered, although Laurie knew what his mom would say. Sheila was still trying to play matchmaker; what better than to marry off Seth to an actual Israelite?

With a smile in his voice, Laurie shared these observations. The latter made Lynne chuckle, yet she kept glancing at the kitchen door. Laurie turned around, wondering if she saw her husband walking into the room, his arms outstretched, his eyes.... Then Laurie shivered. What kind of homecoming was Lynne expecting for Eric? Laurie faced Lynne, who kept her gaze on the far wall. Then she stood, walking to a cupboard on that side of the room.

She opened a cabinet, taking a piece of paper from between some cookbooks. Then she rejoined Laurie, placing the sheet face down on the table. Lynne retook her seat, setting her hands on the baby. Laurie knew she had something to tell him, but he felt the message was better shared in whatever Lynne had set in front of him.

Then she took a breath. "Eric drew this last Christmas. At the time, he said he didn't know why and I nearly tore it up. Sam found it a few months ago, I'd forgotten about it." She sighed, then turned over the paper. Laurie assumed to see the image of a happy family. But immediately he gasped, finding a much different drawing.

"I don't know why I'm showing it to you now, and I don't want you to think it's because of Seth." Lynne leaned toward Laurie. "That's not it at all. I just...." She traced her image, then caressed Laurie's cheek. "It might be a while before Stanford can accept what's happened. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

Laurie nodded absently, mesmerized by Lynne's likeness, yet so much more emanated from her pose. Then Laurie stared at Lynne. "He may never believe me."

"Believe us," she said softly. "If he asks, I won't lie."

"And if he asks Eric?"

Now Lynne smiled. "Eric won't fib either." She glanced at the paper, then to her large belly. "Whatever happens Laurie, you're family. I know eventually you'll go back, but...."

Laurie nodded, but wasn't at all certain about his future. His clients were being looked after by other trusted dealers and if Seth wasn't going to Brooklyn any time soon.... Laurie again gazed at the drawing. "Thank you Lynne. I never imagined myself living outside of New York but...."

"I'm sure Seth never considered Israel." Lynne smiled. "To be honest, I think that might be the best move, I mean...." She laughed, then stood, leaning against the counter. "He has a lot to process still. Who's to say that can't happen outside the country?"

"My mother for starters." Laurie chuckled, then went to Lynne's side. "But I think we're glossing over somebody just as meaningful." He stared at the drawing, then grasped Lynne's hand. "He'll be home by Thanksgiving maybe."

"Maybe." Lynne nodded, then she swallowed hard. "Laurie, promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"If Stanford asks you to come home, you'll do it."

"What?"

Lynne sighed, placing Laurie's hand on the baby. Firm kicks were felt, making Laurie smile. "Lynne, I just don't think he'll...."

"Just promise me, okay?"

Laurie nodded. "Like I said before, from your lips to God's ears."

As he finished speaking, Lynne began to cry. Laurie turned to her, then pulled her close. She wept hard, over what he wasn't completely certain. Most of it was Eric's impending departure from Miami. But another issue was present, perhaps something only known to Lynne and her husband. Laurie comforted her, keeping his eyes on the phone. He couldn't imagine what might compel Stan to request Laurie's return. But if Stan did ask, Laurie would keep that promise. In the meantime, he walked Lynne to the sofa, where they sat together. Lynne didn't nap, but she remained at Laurie's side. He pondered the sketch in the kitchen, also wondering about another and exactly why Eric had drawn such evocative pieces.
Chapter 154

That evening, Stanford ran across the same drawing Laurie had been considering, yet what most puzzled Stanford was how that illustration of Agatha had turned up on his dining table. Stanford hadn't noticed it there that morning, and Agatha hadn't been present since Tuesday evening. Stanford felt it was wasteful to maintain her full-time employment, although he would continue to pay her wages as though she was still commuting to his home. He'd started to think of the apartment as his place, for it had been two weeks since Laurie's departure. Stanford conveniently sidestepped his role in Laurie's absence. Laurie had left and for now Stanford didn't need anyone near.

Yet Agatha's image was so authentic, Stanford could hear her, like she stood right beside him. She didn't nag about Laurie; she merely hummed, but that tune haunted Stanford, and if for no other reason he was glad to have the place to himself. He picked up Eric's drawing, not thinking about that man, or about Seth. Stanford stared at Agatha's determined eyes, then he huffed aloud. That sound echoed throughout the room, making Stanford flinch. He shook his head, then headed to the library, where he placed the drawing in between Seth's figurines. Then he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Living alone suited the art dealer, for there was nobody to whom he had to answer. He had agreed to spend Thanksgiving with his father, who would be celebrating with Melanie's family that year. Then Stanford grimaced; last year his dad had been happy going to Brooklyn, a different sort of gathering than any of the Taylors ever experienced. But Stanford's mother had been dead going on a year now, no need to tiptoe around that anymore. Michael didn't know that Laurie wouldn't be going with them, and if he asked, Stanford would simply say that Laurie was sharing that day with his clan. Stanford assumed Seth would be home by then, and if Seth wasn't, Stanford didn't rightly care.

He would just lie to his dad and.... Stanford coughed, then noticed he was back in the dining room. He gazed around; he and Laurie rarely entertained here, and they had never shared Thanksgiving in this house. Usually they went to Brooklyn, for Laurie's mom desired all her children close, and while Stanford preferred his father's company, he hadn't liked spending too much time with his mother once she became ill. Stanford walked around the table, which could comfortably seat six, although eight could be squeezed in if necessary. Yet, the only people Stanford could recall here were the Snyders a few times last spring. Mostly they had taken their meals in the kitchen, cozier in there, plus Agatha was always part of the proceedings.

Stanford headed to the kitchen, which seemed large, probably because he was the only occupant. He had found a cafe near his office where he had gotten something resembling breakfast, then drank the coffee Emily provided. Now she made two pots to make up for the cups he would have enjoyed before leaving the apartment. Stanford drank all of the first pot, and most of the second, and had found himself awake later in the evenings from the additional caffeine.

He was quite alert now, and a little hungry. He'd stopped at a restaurant after work, ordering a bowl of soup. At the time he hadn't been starving, but soup alone wouldn't hold him all evening. Had the extra coffee masked his true hunger, and if so, perhaps he would have Emily only make one pot. He mulled over these trivial details, masking the vast emptiness of the kitchen and of that within his heart.

He poured himself a glass of water, drank it slowly, then opened the refrigerator. It was bare, which made him sigh. Maybe he would have Agatha come in once a week, just to clean and shop. She could buy cold cuts, simple fare, Stanford considered. Then he sighed heavily. He'd been rash last week, but his heart had ached so badly, seeing her only increased the pain. He'd wanted to be left alone, not wishing to ponder any more than work. But he couldn't live at the office, and at home there was nothing to eat, so of course Agatha would need to return.

Leaving the kitchen, he wondered if he should call her that evening. Then he shook his head. He would telephone her tomorrow, arranging her return for Monday. He would manage over the weekend, and he scanned the room as if plotting out what he might eat; Chinese food tomorrow, maybe Italian on Saturday, unless he called his father, offering to take Michael to supper. But then Stanford would have to explain Laurie's absence.... But it wasn't Laurie to distract Stanford's train of thought. He stared at the dining table where in the center lay the very drawing he had just taken to the library.

Stanford walked toward the table, gazing at that sketch. Stopping at the table's edge, he didn't reach for the sheet of paper. He was positive he'd taken it to the library, placing it between figures that he hadn't considered for some time. There had been too many other issues in his head, but now all he pondered was if living alone a detriment, maybe he should call Agatha now. Perhaps she could come tomorrow and he would send this sketch home with her. He reached for it, but the paper didn't feel any differently than earlier; he was sure he'd put it out of sight. Maybe he'd imagined he'd done it, then he stared at the door to the kitchen; had he gone in there, drinking a glass of water? Still grasping the sketch, Stanford walked into the kitchen, seeing his cup where he'd left it on the counter, water droplets at the bottom. Then he peered at the sheet, still in his right hand.

He didn't wish to damage it, but what if he folded it in half? If it turned up again, he'd know if someone was playing a trick, for a crease would remain. He smirked at himself, such a foolish notion, but he blamed Laurie's insinuations, too many outlandish ideas cast in his direction.

Just as Stanford went to fold the sketch, he paused. To do so would be destroying a work of art. Yes, it was merely a drawing, but Eric had made this piece and.... Stanford took a deep breath, then walked out of the kitchen, through the dining room, to the hallway. Then he approached the library door. It was closed, which was how he remembered leaving it, for he was almost certain he had placed this illustration in that room. He opened the door, flicked on the light, then headed for the figurines.

Carefully he set the drawing between those sculptures, smoothing out the slightly curling edges of the paper. No, he hadn't folded it, no blemishes marred such a beautiful piece. Stanford stared at Agatha's eyes, feeling caught in her deliberate gaze. He shivered, wondering how she knew him so well, was he that transparent? Had she known he would flounder without her, and what about Laurie? Then Stanford shivered, a deep chill permeating all through him. Yet to think about Laurie was a foolish endeavor; there was no manner in which Stanford could permit that man back in this house. Agatha was acceptable, but no one else.

Stanford walked to the door, turned off the light, then closed the door firmly behind him. He went into his bedroom, sat on the edge of the mattress, then his stomach rumbled. While it was too late to call Agatha, supper beckoned. Stanford changed into different shoes, collected his wallet and keys, then left the room, noting the library door was still closed. He smiled to himself, then headed to the front door, where he put on his long coat, trying to decide where to eat.

Two hours later Stanford returned to the apartment. He'd wandered aimlessly for ten minutes, then abruptly hailed a cab, giving directions for his father's building. The Taylor men ate what Michael's cook had fixed, and Stanford didn't mention Laurie. Neither did Michael, until Stanford prepared to leave. A father only inquired if Laurie was under the weather, to which Stanford said that yes he was. Stanford didn't feel it was a lie, for Laurie was quite unwell. The men agreed to get together next Wednesday, and as Stanford caught another cab for home, he wondered if supper once or twice a week with his dad would become a habit. It would be beneficial for both men, Stanford mused, then he was dropped off in front of his building. He paid the cabbie, then walked inside the lobby. It wasn't late, but few people remained. Stanford took the elevator to his floor, then headed for his door. Going inside, he hung up his coat, then rubbed his upper arms. The place felt chilly, but it had been cold outside.

He was tired, any residual caffeine long gone from his system. He checked the dining table, but nothing waited for him. His water glass remained on the kitchen counter, and he rinsed it out, then dried it, putting it back in the cupboard.

The apartment was still; he made the only noise, which wasn't more than his shoes along the carpeting. He walked past the library's closed door, as well as doorways to spare rooms. He paused at the guest room door, where the Snyders had slept in spring. Now thinking about their visit, Stanford wondered if it would be their last. Many factors alluded to that idea, the largest being where Laurie was now. Either he had browbeaten Lynne into allowing him to stay or he'd.... Again Stanford couldn't reconcile reality with the garbage Laurie had insisted was true. And in admitting that, Stanford inhaled an even more painful realization; the life he'd shared with Laurie in this house for so many years was effectively over.

Stanford would become like his father, a single man, although not a widower. Slowly Laurie's presence would fade away, like that of Stanford's mother, and soon no one in his family would mention Laurie's name. Where Laurie chose to live was irrelevant, although Stanford did wonder if Laurie would gravitate to the West Coast. His mother would complain, but that was Laurie's problem.

Looking across the hallway, Stanford noticed his door was closed. That seemed odd, although he couldn't actually recall having shut it. He glanced at the library door, which he had shut, and it remained that way. But as for his bedroom.... He shrugged, then headed that way. Opening the door, he flipped on the light, finding his bed as he'd left it that morning, the comforter pulled tightly, although it was slightly askew. He never tidied as well as Agatha did, which reminded him of a phone call to make in the morning.

Then he gazed at his pillow; something rested on top of it, and as he approached, his heart pounded in his chest. The sketch lay where Laurie had put that ridiculous note, how in the world was that possible? Leaving two feet from where he slept, Stanford peered at the mattress, the bedside table, then at the drawing. Agatha's knowledgeable eyes stared back at him; did she know what was happening, but Stanford didn't only mean this strange piece of paper that seemed capable of independent movement. Why had Laurie said all those things, why was Lynne permitting him to stay at her home, and where in the hell was Eric? That last query rocked Stanford more than the rest, because if Eric wasn't in Miami, then Laurie and Lynne were perpetrating a most malevolent scheme. But if Eric was in Florida....

Stanford's head ached, and he sat on the bed's edge. He knew he'd put that sketch in the library; why was it here, yet he didn't suspect he'd been burgled. Why had Laurie said all those things, or rather, what in the world had gotten into Seth to make up such nonsense? Human beings didn't alter form, although years before Stanford had thought Eric's eyes were.... The art dealer shook his head, then picked up the sketch. If he tore it into pieces, would he find it tomorrow on the dining table looking like new?

Something was changing, although Stanford wasn't sure what. Maybe he was getting careless, was he subconsciously trying to make himself believe Laurie? Could a man drive himself crazy, then Stanford tutted himself. He gripped the side of the paper, leaving a visible crease. Tomorrow when he saw this, for he was certain it would pop up somewhere, would his efforts be noted? Rather destructive efforts, he lamented, and he smoothed out what he could. He stood, taking the sheet not into the library, but to the guest room. He placed it on the dresser, and didn't shut the door behind him. He did walk back to the front door, assuring that it was locked. Then Stanford headed to his room. Opening his upper bureau drawer, he rifled through socks and undershirts. Then he pulled out the note from Laurie.

Tape held it together and Stanford gently laid it atop his dresser. The words were few, only flight information. It was the last line that Stanford studied: I love you. What did those words mean, Stanford wondered. Never had they fought so bitterly, and never had Stanford told Laurie to leave. Yet Laurie hadn't put up much of a fuss, although he'd mentioned that Sam hadn't thrown his wife to the street. Stanford recalled each of Laurie's words as if the scene was being replayed in front of him. The discussion had taken place in the library, but the note seemed to resurrect that moment right where Stanford stood. If Stanford actually threw out that note, might everything attached to it also disappear?

Would Agatha's sketch go missing, might Stanford's heart stop aching? He traced Laurie's handwriting, then released an audible sigh, yet he was the only one to hear it. Stanford didn't believe in ghosts, and while he couldn't explain how the sketch was traveling from room to room, he knew that had been the case, just as he accepted that Laurie truly believed Eric was a.... Stanford shook his head, then sighed once more, quietly. It was a shame that things had turned out this way, but Stanford's father seemed to be coping well. Two single Taylor men could support one another as life continued.

But it wouldn't be life as Stanford had previously lived. He folded the note in half, then left the bedroom, walking to the kitchen. The trash bin was practically empty, and as he released Laurie's note, it fluttered for a moment, then drifted toward the bottom of the garbage. Stanford didn't look to see how it settled; by the time Agatha came next, the note would be covered by trash. In the meantime, Stanford would leave Laurie's possessions as they were. Laurie could arrange for their removal, but Stanford wanted that to occur soon. Maybe not before Thanksgiving, that might seem heartless. Or perhaps that would be best for them both. Stanford would sleep on it and see how he felt in the morning. Then he would call Laurie to inform him of this news. As Stanford left the kitchen, his heart no longer ached. He'd simply needed to come to this conclusion as rationally as he made every other decision. Walking to his bedroom, he didn't peer at Laurie's side of the mattress. This bed was now only Stanford's, and it would remain that way until the day the art dealer either died or was carted off to a nursing home. He dreamed of that scenario, passing away unattended, but didn't recall those dreams when he woke. Instead he stirred with a firm resolve. Once it was a decent hour on the West Coast, Stanford would call the Snyder residence. As soon as it could be arranged, Laurie must remove his personal effects from the apartment.
Chapter 155

Taking a deep breath, Seth gazed at where he'd spent the last four months. The room didn't look any differently than when he'd been admitted to the Kerr Mental Hospital, although in leaving, Seth hoped whoever dwelled here next benefitted from the residual effects of one hawk's wisdom as well as Dr. Sellers' care. Seth's door was wide open; he was waiting for that doctor to arrive, then escort him to the lobby where Aunt Sheila and Cousin Tovah were waiting. Seth would stay at the Goldsmiths' home for the weekend. Then on Monday he and Tovah were flying to Tel Aviv.

Stepping toward the window, Seth didn't see the hawk. He had tried to consciously consider that creature only as a bird, yet occasionally Eric's name popped into Seth's head. Seth had last seen the hawk yesterday morning; was Eric already headed west? Seth would wait until that evening to call Laurie; Seth wanted to give it the rest of the day. But Seth wouldn't be surprised if he never saw the hawk again. It was time for Eric to return to his family, even if Seth was making a detour.

He wasn't sure how long he'd stay with Tovah and her husband Ben; the invitation had been Aunt Sheila's idea, but Tovah had eagerly embraced it, as had Seth, not that he wanted to visit Norah. He wished to experience a different locale, grasp a new history, then see how those changes affected his art. He couldn't wait to sculpt and Tovah had said clay would be waiting. Not that Seth had any particular piece in mind. But for the first time in years the sense of creativity rippled through his arms, tingling in his fingertips. No unpleasant notions were associated, only the liberating concept of self-expression. And learning about that self would be a part of the process.

Dr. Sellers had sent most of Seth's files to the therapist in Tel Aviv. Seth wasn't bound to continue his treatment with Dr. Sofia Margolis, but Tovah had described her with enthusiasm, and Seth was intrigued with speaking to a female psychiatrist. Dr. Sellers hadn't put a timetable on that element of Seth's recovery, and Seth wouldn't worry about it. He would take each day as it came, and when the time was right, he would return to America. He smiled, recalling his mom's tone as he'd told her this change of plan. Aunt Sheila had laid the groundwork, but Wilma hadn't sounded overly concerned. This was also a new beginning for Seth's mother and Seth hoped that once Eric was home and well that Laurie and Stanford could start over too.

Seth felt no guilt over that pair's estrangement; Lynne probably appreciated Laurie's presence and Stanford had to allow room for.... Seth smiled, then headed toward his door. Footsteps resounded along the hallway, then Dr. Sellers stepped into the open doorway. "Good morning," the doctor said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Seth cracked his knuckles. "It's time to go."

"Yes it is. Your aunt and cousin are waiting." Dr. Sellers smiled. "Anyone else to see you off?"

"Nope. Haven't seen...it since yesterday." Seth had nearly said him; perhaps he would attach a human pronoun to any hawk he encountered in the future. "I'm sure it's long gone by now."

"Well, I hope he has a good flight. Shall we?" The doctor motioned to the corridor.

"Yes, let's." Seth chuckled, then followed Dr. Sellers out of the room. They walked swiftly, but the doctor's steps slowed as they approached the lobby. Seth saw Sheila and Tovah standing near the entrance. For a moment his heart pounded, then he stopped about thirty feet from where the women chatted. Seth turned to face his doctor. "Thank you so much for many things."

As the men shook hands, Dr. Sellers smiled. "At times this job seems fraught with impossibilities. But in working with you, I realized the benefits of those implausible tangents. Reality is not always what we see, but where we are willing to be taken. It's a fine line, but not always is the path obscured."

Seth nodded, then glanced toward the women waiting for him. "Take care of yourself. If you see any hawks...."

Dr. Sellers took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "If and when I do, be assured I'll be courteous."

The men chuckled, then headed to the entrance. Tovah started toward them and Seth nodded at her. She smiled, then sprinted, stopping just short of the doctor and his patient. "Hi," she said a little breathlessly. "Are you ready to go home?"

Seth nodded, grasping her hands, then embracing her. He looked over Tovah's shoulder, seeing Sheila wiping her eyes. She met his gaze, her smile wide.

"Let's go, I'd love some upside down cake."

Seth whispered that to Tovah, who pulled away. "She made one this morning."

"I figured she would." Seth chuckled, then turned to his doctor, once more shaking that man's hand. "Again, thank you. Would you mind if I kept in touch?"

Dr. Sellers nodded. "I'd appreciate that. And I'll be on the lookout for that painter."

Seth laughed. "You won't be disappointed. All right, let's get on the road." He gripped Tovah's hand, then headed to where Sheila still dabbed at her eyes. Seth hugged his aunt, who began to cry in earnest. They stood together for a few minutes, then once Sheila had composed herself, she led Seth and Tovah outside. As they walked toward the parking lot, Seth gazed at the sky, imagining Laurie kicking stones along the pavement. Then a loud caw stopped Seth in his tracks.

The hawk circled overhead, then flew to where Seth could see his aunt's car. Seth smiled as the women commented on the bird. As they reached the vehicle, the hawk hopped about, but didn't make eye contact. Inwardly Seth said his goodbyes as Sheila and her daughter got in the front seats. Seth took the back seat, keeping his eyes on the hawk, which remained on the ground until Sheila started the engine. Then the bird launched into the air, circling once. Seth closed his eyes, feeling a gentle peace run through him. When he opened his eyes, the bird was gone.

As Sheila drove out of the parking lot, Seth didn't look back at the hospital, nor did he scan the heavens. He gazed at Tovah, who nodded at him. She reached over the seat and Seth gripped her hand. The squeeze was brief, then Tovah released him, leaving Seth to his thoughts. He would call Laurie in an hour or so, telling him that Eric was on his way home.

After receiving Seth's call Laurie and Lynne couldn't conceal their joy. Lynne started a pie while Laurie took Jane for a brief walk around the garden. Sam's unfinished portrait remained in the studio, but Laurie would leave that canvas where it was. He and Lynne had discussed it, as well as how Sam still drove the Bel Air. Laurie traded between driving the Snyders' and Aherns' cars, both in need of replacement, but for different reasons. As Laurie returned to the house, he wondered which vehicle would go first.

Jane required a new diaper and Laurie hollered to Lynne that he was taking the baby upstairs. Lynne shouted her thanks as Laurie and Jane reached the nursery. Laurie had become adept at this task, although Lynne was trying to introduce the concept of toilet training. A child's potty seat resided in the downstairs bathroom, but according to Lynne, Jane liked it only as a chair. Sometimes Laurie wondered how big Jane would seem after the baby arrived. He considered that now, getting Jane dressed, but no longer did Laurie worry that Eric would miss the next baby's arrival. He might not share in Thanksgiving dinner, but by then he would be home.

As Laurie and Jane came downstairs, the scent of apple pie wafted. Jane clapped, then wriggled to be put down. Laurie toted her as far as the kitchen doorway, then set her on the floor. She walked to where her mother stood, near the stove. Jane hugged Lynne's legs, then gazed up. "Pie?" Jane asked. "Pie now?"

"In about two hours," Lynne chuckled. "Laurie, I just need another minute."

He collected Jane as Lynne opened the oven, placing the pie on the top rack. After the oven was closed, Laurie returned Jane to the floor. She went right for the stove, but didn't place her hands on the door.

"She knows it's hot, such a smart girl." Lynne put her hands on her belly, then took a deep breath. "She's changed so. I hope he doesn't think he's missed too much."

"Plenty to distract him." Laurie had been staring at Lynne, then he averted his eyes. She was a beautiful woman, or maybe in this state, Laurie better appreciated her loveliness. But there was much more to Lynne than her looks. Fortitude complimented her appearance, then Laurie chuckled, meeting her gaze. "Maybe I'll get a motel room for a few days, give you all some privacy."

"Actually we'll need you here." Lynne's tone was stoic. "I have no idea how long it'll take him to transform and...."

Her eyes grew misty and Laurie embraced her. As they separated, he gave her a hankie. She used it, then smiled. "I hope he remembers he needs to sleep. That was the problem the last time he was gone for this long. He was so restless. But between you and Marek and Sam...." She paused. "Not sure how much time Sam will be able to put in. We'll just see what happens."

"I'm happy to do whatever I can. Maybe once the rough part's over, I'll find another place to hang my hat."

"Laurie, you don't need to leave. It won't be easy, but...."

He nodded. "We'll see how it goes."

"That we will." Her smile was small, then it took over her face. "You must be so happy for Seth."

"I am, but it's funny, because who knows when I'll see him next." They sat at the table, then Jane wanted on Laurie's lap. He picked her up, bouncing her on his knee. "From the way Aunt Sheila talked, he could stay in Tel Aviv a while."

"A change of scenery might be very good." Lynne looked around the room. "I wanna say it's time for everyone to settle down, Seth, Eric, others too." She clasped her hands together, then placed them on the baby. "But life is always changing. Eric will come back, we'll have this child, and...." She gazed at her middle, then laughed. "Then who knows? Laurie, do you think Stanford could be convinced to come out when...."

Lynne's voice cracked and while Laurie nodded, he wasn't at all sure that Stan would travel in January. Laurie scooted his chair next to Lynne's and Jane leaned toward her mother. "Maybe. We'll just see how it goes."

"That's all we can do." Lynne cleared her throat, then put Jane on what remained of her lap. "Not much room for you sweetie. But learning to share is a part of becoming a big sister."

"She's gonna be a great older sister." Laurie smiled, but his heart ached. "So will you call the Aherns and Marek with the good news?"

"Yeah, I should do that. Or you could."

"Me?" Laurie shot up his eyebrows. "I'd be happy to, but...."

"You call them. Plenty of good news to share."

"Indeed there is." Laurie stood and as he reached the phone, it started to ring. "Wonder whose ears are burning?" he chuckled, picking up the receiver. "Snyder residence."

"Oh, well, um...." Stanford's pause made Laurie shiver. "I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."

"Stan, oh my God, it's so good to hear your voice." Laurie smiled, then looked at Lynne, who nodded. "Not a bad time at all. Actually, I was gonna call you. Seth left the hospital this morning. He's, uh...." Laurie's chuckle turned into laughter. "He's heading to Israel next week."

"Israel? Why in God's name is he...." Then Stanford coughed. "Well, that's unexpected."

"Aunt Sheila's daughter lives there. Tovah's flying with him, he sounds really excited."

"I see, well yes, it's good that he won't be...going by himself."

Laurie noticed Stanford's brief pause. "No, he's in good hands. So, how are you?"

"Actually I called to tell you...."

A stark silence made Laurie turn away from Lynne. Then Stanford took a deep breath, letting it out as a long sigh. His next words caused Laurie to nod, although nothing Stanford said was positive. Laurie didn't interrupt, although at several points he wanted to say that Stan was being ridiculous. When Stanford finished his speech, Laurie blinked, but no tears fell. "All right, if you really feel that way, I'll make the arrangements. I can't give you any date at this point, especially since Eric's on his way home and we have no idea how long he'll need to recover." Laurie said that deliberately. "And what with Thanksgiving in two weeks, you'll just have to bear with me. If that's not acceptable, I do apologize."

"Oh well, certainly, I mean...." Stanford cleared his throat again. "I don't wish to cause Lynne any undue worry."

"No, of course you don't." Laurie swallowed back bile that had crept up his throat. "It's just that Sam's busy with the kids right now. I really can't give you a firm date."

Over the years Laurie had accepted Stanford's singlemindedness. At times he came off as boorish, but underneath that mask was a loving man, or toward Laurie Stanford had always exuded affection. Now a different person spoke over the phone, breaking Laurie's heart. "Tell you what Stan. If you want my stuff out of the apartment, call my mother. Tell her what you've told me and I'm sure she'll be happy to help you out. I just don't have time for this kind of...pettiness." Laurie almost swore, but didn't wish for Jane to hear expletives. "Seth just got out of the hospital and we're waiting for Eric to come back. Those and Lynne's well-being are my priorities. I don't have the energy for...."

Again Laurie wanted to spill a flood of blue language. Instead he sucked in his breath, then gave a long sigh. "Give Michael my best, your sisters too. I'll be in touch when I have time. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, Laurie trembled, then shook his head. Turning toward Lynne, he flinched, for her face was streaked with tears. "Oh honey, it's okay, oh Lynne...." Laurie went to her side, but he didn't sit, for she leaned against him as soon as he was close. He rubbed her back, then caressed Jane's head. She whimpered, then stuck out her arms, wanting to be held.

"I'm sorry, my God, you don't need all his...." Again Laurie bit his tongue. Then he pulled the chair over, taking a seat. Lynne still wept, but she handed Jane to her uncle. As Laurie cradled the toddler, Lynne reached for a napkin, blowing her nose. Then she wiped her face, meeting Laurie's gaze.

Her brown eyes were bloodshot, making Laurie's heart throb even more. "Don't worry Lynne, it's gonna be...." Laurie shrugged, for he couldn't imagine what might happen to make Stan change his mind. "It'll be what it's gonna be. I was gonna have to call him, guess that's off my list."

Lynne reached for Laurie's hands, grasping them within her own. "How did he sound?"

"Resolute till the end. Maybe there's a heart in that man somewhere." But saying that make Laurie ache, for he knew Stanford so well. Then Laurie sighed. "He won't call my mother, I can tell you that." Laurie snorted, then kissed Jane's cheek. "Most likely he won't do anything. Agatha would have his head."

"What does she know?"

"Only that I'm here and that Eric's...." Laurie gazed at the phone, then looked at Lynne. "She knows Eric isn't in a hospital, I mean, oh Jesus, I have no idea what she thinks. What's she said to you?"

"Just that she's praying for us."

He nodded. "She wanted me to tell Stan the truth. Well I did and see where that's gotten me."

Lynne patted Laurie's hand. "You always have a place here."

He gazed at her, was she his little sister? If she was, God had an intriguing sense of humor. "Right now there's nowhere else for me."

Lynne wore a small smile, but it was edged in sorrow. Stroking his cheek, she nodded, then she gasped. She placed Laurie's hand on her abdomen where the baby kicked hard. Those movements eased the agony within Laurie's chest, but still the ache lingered, and there seemed no way to make it stop. Laurie took deep breaths, seeking peace and Eric's safe return. He wanted to include Stan, but had no idea how to approach that man, not even in prayer. Instead Laurie inhaled the sweetness of apple pie and the warmth of a small child. And the vitality of one unborn, as if a channel to those far away.
Chapter 156

On Saturday, Stanford arranged for Agatha's return. She would work as Stanford needed, and he reiterated his desire to continue paying her full wages. He said nothing to her about Laurie, Seth, or Eric. Nor did Stanford call Rose. After speaking to Agatha, Stanford spent the rest of the weekend with his father, only returning to the apartment for slumber. Yet he slept poorly, Laurie's words about Eric's expected homecoming not giving Stanford any peace. It wasn't merely how Laurie's phrased it, but his tone, that while Eric was on his way, his condition was an unknown. And that Lynne's well-being was imperative. Well, of course it was, Stanford fumed to himself in the middle of the night. Yet, Stanford felt utterly alone. Seth wasn't even heading north, but to Israel! Stanford woke late on Monday, although he was still weary. Agatha arrived promptly at seven, but not even her delicious coffee soothed Stanford's ragged soul.

Seth and Tovah left Miami later that day, their first stop being Rome, from where they would fly onto Tel Aviv. Seth and Laurie had again spoken over the weekend, although Laurie made no mention of his talk with Stanford. The cousins only discussed Seth's one-way travel plans, no return ticket having been purchased. To Laurie, Seth sounded exuberant. To Seth, Laurie seemed pensive. They promised to keep in touch and while Laurie wouldn't call Seth when Eric returned, he would send a letter as soon as that occurred.

In Norway, two women were curious if one piece of post had reached its destination. Sigrun was outwardly the most concerned, but Klaudia fretted to herself, usually late at night, sitting at her kitchen table. Sometimes a ghost loitered across from her, but often she was alone with her thoughts, which were stormy. Upon reflection, she wasn't sure if writing to Marek had been for the best, although her message could be ascribed in more than one manner. She had agreed to continue their correspondence, for she did enjoy using Polish. And that over the years, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. She hadn't elaborated what those thoughts were, other than admitting she had named her son after a man thought dead. And she had signed the note Love, Klaudia. By Wednesday, Sigrun was certain the letter must have arrived. Klaudia assumed the same, but even if it had, she might not hear anything for a month. The Christmas rush would delay the mail, and that was if Marek answered in a timely manner.

Neither woman considered the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, but with only a week remaining, it was all Sam pondered when he wasn't mulling over Eric's return or fatherhood. Paul had warmed to the Impala, riding in the front seat, admiring such a fancy vehicle. When the Aherns went out together, Paul sat in the back, buckled next to Ann. Sam had decided to sell the Bel Air next spring; that would give Eric plenty of time to finish the painting, although when he thought about that, Sam became nervous. He wasn't sure why, as Paul seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the station wagon's brief intrusion, while Ann was losing her shyness. She had Laurie wrapped around her finger, and with Helene, Ann was as boisterous as any other child. Vivian had visited the children several times and would spend Thanksgiving with the Aherns. Lynne wanted that holiday celebrated at Renee and Sam's house, and if she and Laurie missed the festivities, there was always next year.

Renee considered that possibility, and had spoken about it with Marek. He was also invited to the Aherns next week, but like Laurie, Marek would skip out if needed. Renee had studied the weather reports for the southern half of the country. It was fortunate that Eric wasn't flying north, and even if he stopped for a few days' rest, in all likelihood he would land in the Snyders' backyard perhaps as early as that weekend. Depending on how difficult was his transformation, there was a small chance Eric could attend Thanksgiving dinner, however he might feel as Renee did, passing on the main course. The Canfields were also spending that day with the Aherns, and Fran was bringing several dishes. If Eric was up to it, there would be plenty to choose from besides turkey.

Caramel slices were on the menu, but Marek would make them next week, dropping them off at the Aherns if he was required elsewhere. The last two weeks had seemed long to the pastor, wondering how Klaudia had reacted to his letter, as well as waiting for Seth's discharge from the hospital. Marek was also aware of Stanford's ultimatum, which had pained Marek, but he understood it. Laurie did too, now that he'd had a few days to consider it, then speak about it with someone other than Lynne. Marek had become Laurie's other confidant, and had asked Laurie to keep him updated once Eric returned. Laurie never inquired about Marek's past, but he always stood next to Lynne at St. Matthew's, usually with Jane in his arms. Marek blessed them both, praying for God's peace for Laurie and his partner. Marek had no idea if the men would reconcile, although he hoped that was God's will for them. Yet for now, Laurie's role at the Snyders' was appreciated, and Marek thanked God for his mysterious but all knowing hand in each of their lives.

Lynne felt Marek's prayers all around her, Jane, and the baby. She recalled how at this time last year the Aherns were hoping to adopt Robbie, that the Canfields were still coping with tremendous loss, how the whole world was still slightly on edge what with nuclear missile strikes having narrowly been averted. But mostly Lynne considered how precious was it that Eric was present for Thanksgiving after two straight years of suffering through his absence. She didn't know if he would be home by next Thursday, it was certainly feasible. But even if he was, he might not be up to sharing the afternoon with others. It wasn't only that Vivian and the Canfields were in the dark, as well as Paul and Ann, but that Eric would require the security of home. Lynne would happily spend that day in their house, perhaps with just Laurie and possibly Marek for company. As Wednesday turned to Thursday, Lynne also considered what Marek was anticipating. She was the only one privy to his hopes, and finally on Friday morning, while Laurie was in the shower, Lynne called her pastor. "Good morning," she said after Marek answered. "How are you?"

"I was just going to ring you. The mail arrived early today and a letter from Oslo is sitting on my kitchen table."

"Really? Oh Marek, my goodness!" Lynne felt giddy, then she laughed out loud. "Have you opened it?"

"Yes."

Lynne inhaled, then had a soft sigh. "Is the news good?"

"It's not bad. It's...." Marek paused. "I suppose Laurie is there."

"He's taking a shower, that's why I called now." Lynne gazed at Jane, who sat in her tall seat eating toast. "It's wonderful having him here, but I do miss our chats."

Marek chuckled. "I wholeheartedly concur on both points. Perhaps it's time I shared some of my past with Mr. Abrams."

Lynne tapped her foot. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, actually. Let's see, it's nearly nine now. What if I come over in an hour? I'll bring some cold cuts for lunch and...."

"I'll start a pie as soon as Laurie comes downstairs. That sounds lovely, oh Marek!" Lynne blinked away tears. "What shall I say to him in the meantime?"

"Just that a pastor needed some time with one of his favorite families, as well as a slice or two of your delicious pie." Marek chuckled again. "To be honest, I've wanted to share this with him, the Aherns too. But it might be a while before time permits me to say more to Sam and Renee than what a beautiful family they have."

"Yes, we may all be busy soon enough. All right, we'll see you in about an hour. Any special requests?"

"Bake whatever Laurie prefers. He'll be left with the spoils."

"Fortunately for you, he's quite fond of sweet potato."

"Well, blessings for us all. See you at ten."

"See you then." Lynne giggled as she closed the call. Then she checked the clock again; a single crust waited in the refrigerator. She could have a pie in the oven by the time Marek arrived, and it would be done and mostly cooled once lunch was eaten. And depending on what Marek and Laurie discussed, Marek might be persuaded to stay for supper. Lynne would ponder that while she made pie filling.

While Lynne baked, a hawk studied his surroundings. The landscape was dominated by a large body of water, many trees, some still with leaves. The weather hadn't been cold, and the hawk hadn't stopped for rest until yesterday. His mate was waiting, and while another full moon stood between them and the arrival of their child, the hawk wanted to get home. Yet, sleep was necessary, for the remaining days would be spent in much cooler temperatures. The hawk was happy for this quiet place, a few woodland creatures scurrying about. He would eat his fill, spend one more night in this tree, then head off in the morning.

Two young boys had skipped school that morning and while Luke Richardson worried they might get caught, Hiram Bellevue was certain no one would notice. Luke had wanted to shoot Hiram's gun, which Hiram had gotten for his birthday a few weeks ago. Hiram was eleven, a whole year older than Luke. But Luke was tall for his age, and as an oldest child, he possessed an air of authority. Hiram was the youngest in his family, the only one still living at home.

As they ambled along the shore, Luke took a deep breath; it smelled somewhat stagnant, but then Caddo Lake was more like a bayou. Tall trees grew in the middle of the shallow water, which at times was covered in algae or lily pads. The scent reminded Luke of home, for his house wasn't far, and he'd been careful to stay away from the road, not wishing to be seen. If his father caught him skipping school, Luke wouldn't be able to sit for a week.

He pushed sand-colored hair from his eyes, then tugged on the front of his coveralls. Hiram was dressed similarly, but his brown hair was cut short, his dark eyes full of mischief. Luke's eyes were the same color as all his sisters, as blue as the Texas sky, what his grandmother said. The Richardsons lived on the Texas-Louisiana border, but as if a tall wall separated the states, Luke never felt anything but Texan.

Hiram led the way, but didn't walk fast, for it was just noon, and they couldn't head back until after school let out. Neither Luke nor Hiram had considered that their teacher would do more than mark their absences. The boys would forge notes over the weekend, then attend on Monday with no one aware. Well, someone might know, but Luke had been so excited to shoot the rifle, it was worth the risk.

He didn't know what kind of gun it was, but it was more than a BB gun, all he'd used up to that day. His father didn't think Luke was old enough, and his mother definitely didn't want Luke messing with weapons. But he was ten already, how much longer was he supposed to wait? Luke tapped his foot while Hiram inspected their position. Luke wasn't sure what they might shoot, maybe just taking shots at cypress trees. As Hiram pointed to one about twenty feet away, Luke squinted. "I don't see anything," he whispered.

"Look up high, way high. There's a hawk up there!" Hiram kept his voice low, but his eyes twinkled. "Can you imagine shooting a hawk?"

As Hiram spoke, Luke shivered, having spotted the bird, which was perched on one of the highest branches. "You can't shoot a hawk, that's, that's...." It wasn't illegal, but was certainly wrong. "I just wanna shoot a squirrel."

"A squirrel, humph. I didn't cut school to shoot no damn squirrels."

When the boys were alone, Hiram often swore, but then so did Hiram's daddy. Then Luke stared at his friend; Luke had no wish to shoot such a majestic bird, and his stomach ached thinking about it. "C'mon Hiram, let's find something else."

"Nope. I'm gonna shoot him. And you're gonna watch me."

"No I'm not. I'm going home."

Luke turned around, then he was whipped back, Hiram with a firm grip on Luke's left arm. "You ain't going nowhere. Now sit right down or you won't get to use my rifle."

"I don't wanna shoot anything." Luke didn't care if Hiram called him a sissy. And if Hiram told the other boys about this, then Luke would squeal about them skipping school. Then Luke sighed. His daddy was right. Ten was too young to be handling big guns, eleven was too. Hiram had the rifle nestled against his shoulder, and he was taking aim for the upper branches of the cypress. But Luke shrugged. "You're too far from here. And if you go out in the open, he'll see you."

"Who'll see me?"

"The hawk, that's who." Again Luke squinted. While the bird was far away, the way it sat on the branch was like it was king of Caddo Lake. "You put that gun down Hiram. Let's go find some squirrels."

"To hell with you." Hiram lowered the gun, then took cautious steps toward the cypress. He shaded his eyes with his hand, staring at where the hawk still perched. "I'm gonna shoot that damn bird, then take it home and...."

"No you're not!" Luke ran toward Hiram, waving his arms as he did so. "Go on, you hear? Git now, and I mean it. Go before he...."

"Shut up Luke, shut up!" Quickly Hiram pointed, taking a shot. It pinged off the tree, making birds fly away as bark ricocheted in the air. Those pieces fell to the ground, but Luke could still see the hawk, although now it stared at the boys. Those black eyes seemed to pierce Luke's soul.

"It's mad now Hiram, you made it mad. It's gonna come after us and...."

"Not unless I kill it first." Hiram took aim, then pulled the trigger. Again he hit the tree. "Damnit," he shouted, running toward the cypress. "I'm gonna get that goddamned bird...."

Luke didn't move, mesmerized by the hawk, which acted like its life wasn't in danger. But Hiram wasn't that bad of a shot. If that bird didn't fly off now.... "Git, you hear me? He's gonna...."

Hiram had stopped running, was again aiming for the upper branches of the cypress. "You think you're so special, huh?" he yelled at the hawk. "Well, you just never met me. I'm Hiram Bellevue and I'm gonna kill you!"

That time the shot rang out with chilling alacrity. The squawk that followed was at first shrill, then agonizingly long, like the bird was screaming. Luke put his hands over his ears, then looked up, seeing Hiram doing the same, the gun lying on the ground. Both boys faced each other, Hiram's eyes wide, Luke's mouth open. Then Luke ran to where Hiram stood, leaving a foot between them. "Where'd you hit him?" Luke murmured.

"I, I dunno. I never saw it fall. Did you see it fall?"

Luke shook his head. He had closed his eyes as soon as the shriek began, and he didn't open them until the caw had died away. Was the hawk dead? Luke took a few steps, then heard what sounded like a whimper. "Oh Hiram, we gotta get outta here!"

Hiram nodded, grabbed the rifle, then took one look back. "I didn't see no feathers. If I'd hit it, there shoulda been lots of feathers."

Luke didn't want to turn around, but he did, slowly peering at where the hawk would have fallen out of the tree. Or maybe it had been in flight and had landed in the lake. "Maybe it was taking off, maybe it fell in the water."

"Did you hear it fall in the water?"

"No." Luke shivered. "It's gotta be dead. C'mon Hiram, we gotta go home."

"But school's not out yet."

Luke paused, but kept his back to the cypress. "We'll go to McKinney's barn. We can hide out there."

"Yeah, okay." Hiram seemed to tremble, which for a moment made Luke feel better. But as they started running, Luke peeked over his shoulder. Hiram had hit that bird, but where had it fallen?

The boys stayed in the barn until what felt like the middle of the afternoon. Hiram hid the gun in an abandoned outhouse, where he had stored it overnight in preparation for this outing. But now Luke didn't want to touch a gun, nor did he wish to step foot near the lake. If his father wanted to go fishing that weekend, Luke would have to make up an excuse.

As they reached the main road, no traffic passed. Luke and Hiram stared at each other, then they split up, Luke going north while Hiram went east. It took Luke five minutes to reach his house, but as soon as he did, his heart pounded in his chest; his daddy's truck was parked out front. Had someone called him about Luke not being in school? Walt Richardson was a welder and the family just had the one vehicle, but Walt was never home until nearly suppertime. Taking a deep breath, Luke slowly approached his house. Best to get swatted now than right before bedtime.

As Luke reached the front porch, he heard his mother crying. Now the boy shook in fear. Then his father cleared his throat, turning up the television. Luke crept up the porch steps, then crouched beneath the front window. Poking his head up, he could just make out his mother sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, but she was covering her face with her hands. Seven-year-old Tilda sat on their mother's left, while four-year-old Esther sat on her right. Gail was in their father's arms, but she was only two, and didn't seem to understand what was happening.

What had happened, Luke wondered, for it wasn't good. He itched to know, then watched as his father patted his mother's shoulder. Luke's mother removed her hands from her face, then turned toward her husband. Again Luke wanted to be sick; her cheeks were splotchy, her eyes red. Then he gazed again at Tilda. She was crying too.

"What happened?" Luke shouted, standing in front of the window. "What's wrong?"

With swift steps, Walt reached the front door, swinging it wide open. "Where've you been?"

"Uh, I was...." Luke swallowed hard, then gazed at his bare feet. "Me and Hiram, we were...."

"President Kennedy's dead!" Tilda had joined those on the porch. Streaks marred her cheeks, her short light brown hair tousled. "He got shot in Dallas, someone shot our president!"

"What?" Luke looked at his father for confirmation. "Why?"

Walt shook his head, then motioned toward the door. "C'mon, get in the house. What'd you say, you and Hiram Bellevue were doing what?"

Luke followed his dad, Tilda already having gone inside. Gail started babbling as Esther now sat on their mother's lap. Luke stared at her, she seemed so sad. "Mama, you okay?" he asked.

Dora Richardson shook her head. "No honey, it's a terrible day."

"Not so terrible," Walt muttered.

"Don't say that!" Dora gave her husband a sharp stare.

Luke noticed that exchange, then approached his mother. "Mama, is he really dead?"

She nodded, then smoothed down Luke's hair. "He is, someone murdered him." Dora glanced at Walt as she spoke, then she caressed Luke's face. "Who could've done something so horrible?"

Luke had no idea, then he felt dizzy. "Mama, did you say he was murdered?"

"Yes I did. Someone shot him, and Governor Connally too. He's still alive, thank the lord, but why would someone do something so crazy, so mean? Oh my goodness, why?"

Dora began crying again, which made Esther cry. Tears welled in Luke's eyes, mostly for his mother's sorrow, and for.... "I dunno Mama. I sure don't know."

Then Luke's legs buckled. He squatted, then landed on his knees, putting his head on his mother's lap. Now he wept, wondering as his mother did why someone had killed their president, there in Texas of all places? Dallas was just a few hours west and Luke wondered when it had happened. He looked up, Tilda standing close. "When?" he asked her.

"Lunchtime," she said. Then her eyebrows shot up, but she didn't ask Luke where he'd been.

"Listen, you kids go outside. Luke, take your sister." Walt put Gail on the floor. "Tilda, you mind Esther. Don't go any farther than my truck, you hear? Until they find who did it, I don't want you kids any further than my pick-up!"

"Yes Daddy." Luke and Tilda spoke first, Esther's small voice an echo behind them. Luke carried Gail as far as the porch, then put her down, holding her hand as they took the stairs. Tilda and Esther were right behind them.

All four sat on the bottom step, Tilda beside Luke. "Where were you today?" she whispered.

"Nowhere."

"Tell me." Tilda looked back to the house, then pointed her finger in the middle of Luke's chest. "Tell me or I'll...."

"You hush." Now Luke turned around, but the door was closed. Then he faced his sister. "Me and Hiram were at the lake. He shot a...."

"A what?"

"Nothing. He didn't shoot nothing." Luke stood, then stared at the house. He could hear his mother, she still sounded sad. "You think someone really did it?"

"Of course they did. They let us outta school early. I walked home with Mary Duncan, she wanted to know where you were."

"Oh no." Luke shook his head, for Mary Duncan was a blabbermouth. "What'd you tell her?"

"I said you were home sick. She didn't believe me, 'cause then she said Hiram wasn't in class either."

Luke scuffed his feet in the dirt. "Well shoot." He crossed his arms over his chest, then stared into the sky. Then he found Tilda's gaze on him. "What're you looking at?"

"You went hunting with Hiram, didn't ya?"

"No, I didn't."

"You did so." She stood from the porch, then approached him, pointing her finger in between his hands, which were still guarding his chest. "What'd ya shoot?"

"Nothing, I didn't shoot nothing."

"What about Hiram?"

"Be quiet Tilda." Luke scowled, but his stomach hurt so badly, he thought he'd be sick. If Tilda was right, the president had been killed at the same time Hiram was aiming at that.... "I'm going inside. I wanna hear what the newsman says."

"Daddy told us to stay out here. Luke, Luke!"

Ignoring his sister, Luke marched past Esther and Gail, who had remained on the step. Just as Luke reached the front door, his mother burst into tears. Luke peered through the window, finding her on her feet, wrapped tightly against his father. Luke rarely saw that kind of affection shared between them, and he stared as his daddy stroked his mother's head. Immediately Luke squatted, then sat right beside the window. He could hear his father telling his mother that it would be all right. But Luke knew that wasn't the truth. Nothing in their lives would ever be the same.

_______________

Liner Notes

I started this novel in October 2013; at the time I assumed I'd be penning another short story, the form I had been working in for much of that year. However, The Hawk turned into a far larger project, the scope of which I never imagined when this tale began. Having finally reached The End, I am grateful to all who supported me in its creation. I am also thankful to you readers for joining me on this journey, which has been a search for my Father as well as Eric's. Comments are appreciated and can be sent to annascottgraham at gmail dot com.

About the Author

Anna Scott Graham was born in 1966 in Northern California. A mother and grandmother, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, some hummingbirds, and numerous quilts.

Other books by  Anna Scott Graham are available on Smashwords.
