by Belva Plain
Theo was sure that she was thinking of her parents. But then, she cried even when she saw a strange bride and groom driving away together after their wedding. Tender soul! And he took her hand, remarking silently how odd it was that of all the people here, he was the only one who knew the truth about her.
Most of the young these days, not all of them and not everywhere, yet certainly here in this sophisticated city, wouldn’t be shocked at all by that truth. But he had made his pledge, and to break it would be not only to savage Iris, but to haunt his conscience forever with the reproaches of Anna—and he could see her wide, gold-lashed eyes as clearly as if she were standing here next to him—and of the man whose body was now being laid within the little gray stone house.
No. Never. This truth would go with him to his own grave.
The ceremony was over, and people were dispersing, walking slowly over the grass toward their cars.
In back of Theo a woman was saying, “He did for everyone in the family. We all leaned on him. He was so strong, and with it, so unassuming.”
Another voice asked, “And so you’ll be going back to Israel, Ilse?”
“Yes. He wanted me to, anyway,” Ilse replied.
At the open neck of her blouse, as she passed Theo, he remarked a pendant, a miniature set elaborately in gold and diamonds, striking against the background of black. Vaguely it crossed his mind that once in another world, another life, his mother had worn one like it.
He started the car, and they drove away. This was an area in which some large estates remained, with woodland patches and open fields still brilliantly green. In one of them a flock of Canada geese, heading southward, came coasting to earth with a great bustle and honk.
“Oh, just look at them!” cried Iris. “Let’s stop a minute and get out. Oh, how beautiful!”
And as they walked down the slope toward the field, she said, “Do you remember how my mother loved birds? Anything from a parakeet to an eagle.”
The geese fluttered and stalked. The sun was not hot, merely warm, like a soothing bath. Theo’s arm, loosely held around Iris’s shoulders, slid to her waist, tightening as he pulled her to himself.
“Darling Theo,” she said.
He raised her face and held her for a long time with his lips on hers. So they stood in the warmth, in the silence broken only by the whir of a car passing on the road above the slope and by the rustling and flapping of the geese.
“I feel so happy,” Iris said when they broke apart. “That’s awful, isn’t it, having come directly from a funeral?”
“No, it’s nature. People have always had funeral feasts, haven’t they? It’s because they’re glad they’re still alive, with time still left. That’s all it is.”
“But to feel like making love,” she asked, almost shyly, “after they’ve just buried that good man?”
Theo spoke gravely. “He would have understood that too. He knew about loving.” And he thought, There was a whole lot more in that man’s life than I’ll ever know. Paul’s eyes had had a kind of twinkle, as of hidden amusement at the world.
“I keep thinking how I used to say nasty things whenever his name came up, even when you first told me he had offered to look for Steve. How terribly wrong I was!”
“We’re all wrong sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I really intended to invite him soon again. He seemed to have such a good time at our house. And, you know, he seemed to pay a special attention to me! I mean, he had a curious expression whenever he looked at me, and he kept looking often, which ordinarily would have made me uncomfortable, but didn’t at all then. It was, well, it was rather odd, but also very kind. Do you know what I mean? I didn’t mention it to you that night because it seemed too silly.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“And when he left, when he thanked me for the evening, he said, ‘God bless you.’ It was lovely, but not what people usually say. It was so—so intense. Don’t you think it was strange of him?”
“Oh,” Theo said, “maybe you reminded him of someone, that’s all. It can happen. Who knows? Come, darling, let’s go home.”
BOOKS BY BELVA PLAIN
FORTUNE’S HAND
LEGACY OF SILENCE
HOMECOMING
SECRECY
PROMISES
THE CAROUSEL
DAYBREAK
WHISPERS
TREASURES
HARVEST
BLESSINGS
TAPESTRY
THE GOLDEN CUP
CRESCENT CITY
EDEN BURNING
RANDOM WINDS
EVERGREEN
BELVA PLAIN is the internationally acclaimed author of seventeen bestselling novels. She lives in northern New Jersey.
