Sophie was ecstatic, full of hugs and little squeals of joy.
David shook Nik’s hand, kissed his daughter. ‘But don’t expect me to act surprised. The writing was on the wall if not in the stars. It is good to welcome you formally to the family, Nik.’ He held out his arms and gave Nik a bear hug.
‘Champagne!’ Sophie cried. ‘We should have champagne.’
‘Later,’ David said, ‘when we gather together—as many as can—to celebrate, and I have a chance to buy some champagne and get it chilled.’
‘Food, then. I’ve made some lovely—’ Sophie’s words were muffled as she went to the kitchen.
‘It’s a good thing I metabolize my food easily and stay thin,’ David said affectionately. ‘Sophie’s going to have to watch it. Forgive me if I seem selfish, children, but I’d like to get back to the play. I am selfish when it comes to a great role. We couldn’t get it ready for next season, but—’
‘Wait till I finish it, Dave.’
David grinned. ‘Don’t take as long as you did to ask Emma to marry you.’
“What’s the matter?” Abby asked. She and Emma were in the main cabin; Alice and Ben were in the pilothouse. They were nearing Port Clements, and the wind was rising, rocking the little craft.
Emma put down the scene she had been looking at. “I don’t know why I’m reading this. It brings up too many bad memories. When Nik was writing about Ahinoam and Amnon he might just as well have been writing about Myrlo and Billy. God knows I don’t have much good to say of either Myrlo or Billy, but it’s my fault if Nik’s made Ahinoam and Amnon into flat villains.”
“Emma, love, can’t you let it go?”
“Most of the time I can. I thought I had. Coming across all these scenes from Nik’s play, reading them—it brings it back.”
“For David, too, do you think?”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t think so. Except during his horrible glooms, Papa’s always had the ability to remember the good things and let the bad ones go.”
“Not a bad ability.”
Emma paused. Then said, “I’m not sure. I think we have to remember it all before we can forgive it.”
Sophie
Abner … captain of Saul’s host, took Ishbosheth the son of Saul … And made him king over … all Israel.
Ishbosheth Saul’s son was forty years old when he began to reign over Israel, and reigned two years. But the house of Judah followed David.
And Abner … and the servants of Ishbosheth the son of Saul, went out from Mahanaim to Gibeon.
And Joab the son of Zeruiah, and the servants of David, went out, and met together … And there was a very sore battle that day; and Abner was beaten, and the men of Israel, before the servants of David.
And there were three sons of Zeruiah, Joab, and Abishai, and Asahel: and Asahel was as light of foot as a wild roe.
And Asahel pursued after Abner; and in going he turned not to the right hand nor to the left from following Abner.
Then Abner looked behind him, and said, Art thou Asahel? And he answered, I am.
And Abner said to him … Turn thee aside from following me: wherefore should I smite thee to the ground? how then should I hold up my face to Joab thy brother?
Howbeit he refused to turn aside: wherefore Abner with the hinder end of the spear smote him under the fifth rib, that the spear came out behind him; and he fell down there, and died in the same place.
II SAMUEL 2:8–10, 12–13, 17–23
Abby was in France. There was no way she could leave. ‘And even if travel was possible,’ she wrote, ‘it would be better for me not to come. Let Sophie have the pleasure of this wedding. Darling, I will be with you in spirit, every minute. I am more happy for you than I can say, and you must send me pictures, and when this terrible war is over, then we will be together. Give my love to everybody, and especially to your Nik.’
Jarvis took Emma and Nik to the Blue Angel for supper, inviting Chantal, too.
‘Have the wedding soon,’ he urged.
Chantal agreed. Right, Jarv. Emma and Nik should get married as soon as possible. It would give Maman something pleasant to think about.’
‘So get married,’ Jarvis urged Emma and Nik. ‘The world is falling apart around us. You’re sleeping together, aren’t you? So why delay?’
Nik kept his voice low. ‘Jarvis, you’ve no right to jump to conclusions!’
‘You’re in the theater, aren’t you? Not Sioux Falls, South Dakota.’
‘Shut up, Jarvis.’ Emma’s voice was cold.
‘Just trying to be helpful.’
The lights went down in the restaurant and a spotlight came up on Madame Claude Alphond, whose simple voice and French love songs brought tears to Emma’s eyes. Les filles de Saint-Malo ont les yeux le couleur de l’eau. Emma bit her lip to try to stop from crying. Chantal reached out and took her hand, pressing it gently.
‘So where?’ Jarvis asked as the songs were over and the lights came up.
‘Where what?’ Nik asked.
‘Where will you be married?’
Chantal said, ‘Sophie loves the Cathedral, and so did Bahama.’
‘It’s so big—’ Emma demurred. ‘Nik—would you mind being married in church?’
‘What I want is whatever you want,’ Nik affirmed, reaching for her hand.
‘There are all those little chapels,’ Chantal suggested.
When they talked about it with David Wheaton, he agreed with Chantal. ‘St. Ambrose Chapel behind the high altar would be just right for a small wedding.’
‘But I want Grandpa.’ Emma was anxious. ‘Do we have to get permission or something for him to marry me—I mean, he’s not an Episcopalian—’
‘I’ll speak to Tom Tallis,’ David said. ‘He’s one of the young canons there, a friend.’
‘Okay, Nik?’ Emma asked.
‘Hey,’ Nik said softly, ‘I want to meet your grandpa, and if it’s okay with him for the wedding to be in a big cathedral, it’s fine with me.’
Grandpa came; grunting, groaning, complaining about the dangers of travel in wartime, he came to New York. He was staying with David and Sophie, but he met Emma and Nik for supper after the theater. ‘Niklaas, thank you for writing such a wonderful role for Emma.’
‘Emma’s wonderful for the role, sir.’
Grandpa Bowman snorted. ‘Sir doesn’t sit well with me. Call me Grandpa. I’m giving you my bed for a wedding present. It will just about fit in your apartment, Emma. David and Sophie tell me that’s where you’re going to live.’
‘Yes. Apartments are impossible to find right now, and my one room is bigger than Nik’s two, and more convenient. But not your bed, Grandpa—’
‘Oh, yes. Oak isn’t fashionable right now, but it will come back into style, and it may be worth something one day.’
‘It’s a gorgeous bed,’ Emma told Nik, ‘with a great carved headboard that reaches almost to the ceiling. Oh, Grandpa—’
‘I’ll also give you enough money to buy a decent box spring and mattress. Right now the bed sags in the middle and it suits me, but it wouldn’t do for the two of you. It may be a little big, but you’re not going to stay in a one-room apartment forever.’
‘We’ll need someplace a bit larger,’ Emma said, ‘particularly with children, and maybe there’ll be more apartments available in a few years—but your bed, Grandpa—you can’t—’
‘I can,’ Grandpa Bowman said firmly. ‘It’s already crated and on its way to you.’ He turned to Nik. ‘You are in complete earnest about this marriage?’
‘Yes, Grandpa, I am.’
‘I’m old. I’d like to be sure that I can trust you to take care of Emma.’
Emma said, ‘This is the twentieth century. I can take care of myself.’
‘I love Emma.’ Nik and Emma were sitting side by side on a banquette in their usual restaurant, opposite the old man, and he took her hand, holding it tight, under the table. ‘And she loves me.’
T
he old man sighed. ‘Bless you, then, my children.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Theater hours are hard on this old body. I need to get back to David and Sophie.’ He heaved himself to his feet. Sat again, snapping his fingers as though remembering something. Looked at Nik. ‘Where are you and God?’
Nik smiled. ‘Barely nodding acquaintances. My mother was a devout Catholic and my father was Jewish and atheist and I’m caught somewhere between. I hope that doesn’t disqualify me.’
‘I saw your play last night. For all its laughter, it makes a brave attempt to deal with reality. And you, Emma?’
I’m caught someplace between you and Bahama, Grandpa, and that’s not a bad place to be.’
The old man nodded, satisfied.
The upcoming wedding filled Sophie with delight. She insisted on shopping with Emma, buying her the silkiest underclothes to be had in wartime, and a white satin nightgown. ‘Now, about a wedding dress—’ Sophie said.
Sophie, please, I don’t want a real wedding dress. We’re being married Saturday morning, and then we have a matinee and an evening performance—’
‘And then you have till Monday evening for a honeymoon.’
Emma laughed. ‘You and Papa—thank you!’
‘It’s little enough,’ Sophie said. ‘Two nights in the Plaza—’
‘In the bridal suite—’
‘For your whole honeymoon.’
‘It’s wonderful. We’d never have thought of it. Travel is almost impossible and there was nowhere particular we wanted to go, and we were just going back to my apartment.’
‘Here, look!’ Sophie took a white wool dress from a small rack of clothes. ‘It’s simple enough for morning, and I’ll give you my pearls to wear that Davie gave me when we were married, so you’ll have something borrowed.’
Emma looked at her engagement ring. ‘And the two sapphires are something blue.’ Around her neck was a small gold cross that had belonged to Bahama. ‘Something old.’
‘And the dress can be something new.’
Emma looked at the price tag. ‘No, Sophie, it’s much too expensive!’
Sophie fingered the soft wool. It’s good material, and it’s well cut. Let’s try it on. Come on, Emmelie, try it.’
It fit perfectly, as though made for Emma’s figure. ‘Your father and I don’t expect you to get married more than once, so make me happy by wearing this.’
‘Oh, Sophie, we’re so lucky Papa found you!’
The wedding was, as David had suggested, in St. Ambrose, a small, charming Italianate chapel behind the high altar of the Cathedral. All of Emma’s available family were there. She stood between her father and Sophie, with Louis by them. Jarvis was dashingly out of place in a morning suit, looking more like Diaghilev than like a Broadway agent and producer. Chantal was Emma’s maid of honor; Everard, Nik’s best man. Marical had come from her small house in Connecticut, and when Emma stepped forward to stand by Nik, Sophie pulled Marical between herself and David.
Wesley Bowman rather grudgingly read the great words of the Episcopal wedding service, interpolating a few thoughts of his own. Canon Tallis, a shy, bald young man, was there to see to whatever were the legal necessities. It was a grey winter morning, and the Cathedral was dark, but the glow from the candles pushed away the shadows, and Emma felt bathed in light.
When Emma and Nik reached their suite in the Plaza after the play that evening, the lights were on and David and Sophie had ordered sandwiches and champagne to be waiting for them. Everard had sent flowers from himself and Chantal, and had written on the card, ‘These are from Etienne and Adair, too.’ There was a note from Jarvis saying that breakfast had been ordered brought to their room and all they had to do was call room service in the morning. Emma and Nik had tried to keep their plans quiet, but there was a large box from Tiffany and in it was a silver goblet from the company, with a card signed by players, stagehands, costume woman—everybody connected with Nik’s play. They felt surrounded by love.
Emma bathed slowly, luxuriously, trying to still the anxiety that made her heart beat rapidly. She dried, powdered herself, put on the nightgown and robe Sophie and David had given her. Walked slowly to the living room of the suite. As she entered, Nik poured her a glass of champagne. ‘Sit on the sofa, my sweetie, and relax for a few minutes.’
She sat, sipped the champagne, sneezed as the bubbles went up her nose. Laughed, shakily. Nik sat beside her, his arm about her. When she had finished the glass of champagne he bent toward her, kissed her gently, on the lips, eyes, neck, opening the robe, kissing the hollow at the base of her neck. He was slow, gentle, patient. Nik stroked her, tasted her lips, her breasts, stroking her, sensing when the tension in her body, the tension of terror, began to leave her. Finally he lifted her from the sofa, took her to the large, waiting bed.
She began to cry.
He kissed the tears. ‘Sweetie, sweetie. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. The hurting has been done. But if you want me to stop, just say so.’
‘No, no—don’t stop.’
‘Emma, I love you. I come to you with love.’
‘I love you, too, Nik, I love you …’
The two nights at the Plaza, away from everything familiar, away from memories, helped Emma begin the process of relaxing, of, ultimately, moving into pleasure. It did not happen at first, but she believed Nik’s gentle promises. In her urgent desire to please, she slowly learned how to be pleased. When it happened, it was indeed pleasure.
Grandpa Bowman’s great oaken bedstead took up nearly half of Emma’s studio. But there was still room for a sofa and a couple of easy chairs, and a small table to eat from. Emma moved her desk into the dressing room off the bathroom, and for a wedding present she gave Nik an old rolltop desk which she had found in an antique shop near Chantal’s apartment in the Village.
Emma and Nik loved going home to their nest after the theater, fixing sandwiches or soup, simply being quietly together. But David and Sophie continued to urge them to come for supper.
‘You keep Davie alive with his interest in your play, Nikkie,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m so afraid he’ll slip back into that darkness of last year. Now that he’s happy about Emma, and the David play, it helps stop it from happening again.’
So they went at least once a week to David and Sophie for supper, and Nik brought his current scenes.
‘Maybe I could do something with projections,’ he suggested. ‘I really don’t want any fighting onstage.’
David Wheaton laughed. ‘It’s as bad as Hamlet, isn’t it? All those dead bodies, and finally Fortinbras coming onto a stage running with blood. What about Abner?’
‘Abner tried to carry on Saul’s war against David. At this point in the play, Zeruiah’s sons really come into the picture. Abishai, and Joab, who will be a featured role. If Abner was captain of Saul’s forces, Joab was captain of David’s.’
‘Abishai, Joab, and then there’s the youngest, Asahel,’ Emma said, ‘and you’ve already made us fond of this kid, in his early scenes with Zeruiah.’
‘The three of them were foremost in battle,’ Nik said.
‘Which battle?’ David Wheaton demanded. ‘Who was fighting whom, and for what?’
‘Okay, Dave. Abner was continuing Saul’s war against David, and David was trying to unite the two kingdoms, Judah and Israel. So it was a civil war. David fought Abner, with Zeruiah’s sons, Abishai, Joab, and Asahel, right beside him.’
‘And Asahel, who’s young and fleet as a deer, chases after Abner, and Abner has to kill him.’
‘Has to?’ Sophie asked.
Nik answered, ‘Abner tries to get Asahel to go back, and the kid won’t, and Abner is older and bigger and a much better fighter and Abner kills him, and the Bible makes it very clear that Joab was not likely to forgive or forget. Em, read this scene for your father and Sophie. I scrawled it out on the subway, but I think you can read my writing.’
Emma took the page he handed her, glanced at it swiftly, then read aloud:
Act IV, scene vii
The scene is a shallow grave in the desert, with the white, hot light glaring down on Abishai and Joab, who are finishing the digging. Zeruiah is sitting back on her heels on the sand, holding her dead young son in her arms. Abigail is kneeling beside her. There is silence except for the sound of the spades, which occasionally hit rock with a clang like a gong.
Asahel’s servant stands rear left and blows the long, strange horn, the shofar, with its terrible, haunting sound. Then silence again.
The light is so fierce it seems to flicker.
Joab puts down his shovel, bends, and takes Asahel’s body from Zeruiah, and with Abishai’s help wraps it in a white linen cloth; they then carefully place it in the grave. Zeruiah remains kneeling, Abigail holding her as the brothers cover the body with sand, then place stones at the head and foot to mark the place.
Again the shofar sounds.
Blackout.
‘Nikkie, Nikkie!’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘That gives me the shivers.’
‘It’s a good scene.’ David applauded.
Emma handed the page back to Nik. ‘I know war was totally different then, but I keep thinking about my brothers. I know Ev isn’t actually fighting, but driving an ambulance isn’t exactly safe.’ She swallowed. ‘Poor Zeruiah. Asahel was her baby.’
David Wheaton closed his eyes. Both Emma and Sophie looked at him anxiously, but David Wheaton flung off his mood, laughed, and sang:
King David and King Solomon
Led merry, merry lives.
They had many, many mansions,
And many, many wives.
But old age came upon them
And with many, many qualms
King Solomon wrote the Proverbs
And King David wrote the Psalms.
Emma, too, laughed. ‘You used to sing that to me when I was little. And I sang it for Grandpa Bowman.’
Nik reached for the Bible, reading out loud: ‘Now there was long war between the house of Saul and the house of David: but David waxed stronger and stronger, and the house of Saul waxed weaker and weaker.’
Certain Women Page 22
