Loving Neil

by Ronald Bagliere

A week and a half later, Janet stood on the dock, looking out over Cooke Inlet. Their honeymoon was drawing to a close, and though part of her wanted to go home, another part wanted to escape into the wilds with Neil and live in a mountain cabin away from the world. She looked out across the bay toward the thick heavy mist clinging to the rising mountains. The tang of the ocean hung over the dark water. Neil came up behind her and pulled her close. She leaned into him and laid her head back against his shoulder.

  “So, dear, are you having fun?” she said.

  He drew her a little tighter, and she felt a smile. “Yes, are you?”

  “Immensely.” She breathed in the clean, fresh air and let it mingle with her thoughts. “So this place we’re going to, Seldovia, is it? Tell me about it.”

  “It’s an old Russian village, settled in the 1800s. The brochure says there’s a trail leading out of town into the wild. There’s an old church there, too; Russian Orthodox.”

  “Sounds like fun. How much longer ‘til the ferry leaves?”

  He lifted his arm and checked his watch. “Another twenty minutes. You want to go sit? There’s a bench over there.”

  “No, I’m all right here,” she said. Her eyes drifted toward a raft of otters bobbing in the water on their backs, cracking crab shells for their morning breakfast. She thought about her camera, but dismissed the idea. She pointed out toward them. “Aren’t they graceful?”

  “What?”

  “The otters. I’m always amazed watching them.” She fell quiet. Listened to the lapping of the waves against the wharf. Finally, she said, “When I was little, my father took us to Vancouver. I remember going out on this boat looking for whales. The only thing we saw though, was these little guys. Everyone was disappointed ‘cept me. I loved them. I could have watched them all day.”

  “They are fun, aren’t they?”

  She paused as the memory flooded her thoughts. Saw her mother in her mind’s eye. Remembered how they had argued that day over something insignificant. She spied a mother and pup a hundred yards out in the channel. She said, “It’s more than fun though … at least for me. See that one out there with her pup?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look how she fusses over the little guy. You can almost feel the connectedness between them.” She turned around and looked up at Neil. “I never had that. Not that I remember anyways. Don’t get me wrong; my mother loved me. There was just this distance between us.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

  He stroked her hair. “Of course you will.”

  “Hmm … I worry sometimes. I mean, until I got pregnant, I never saw myself having a baby.”

  He turned her around. Looked into her eyes. “You know why I think you’ll be a great mother?”

  She gazed back, expecting some cliché. “No, why?”

  “Because you know what it’s like not to feel the bond.”

  How does he know what to say? It’s like he’s in my head sometimes. “But if I never felt a bond, how do I know it’s there? I have nothing to go by. Do you think it’ll just come and I’ll know how to do the right things?”

  “Yes. And I’ll be right there beside you.”

  She buried her head in his coat, sheltering her face from a sudden gust of cold wind. Promise?

  A horn blew behind them. The moment shattered. “All aboard,” cried a loud voice.

  They made their way onto the gangplank, meshing in with the gathering crowd. After they found a seat at the stern, they huddled close together while waiting for the ferry to push off. A dark haired woman sat with a man across from them, and her gaze was direct: first on her then Neil. There was no smile on her pencil thin lips. Janet could tell what she was thinking but didn’t care. Love knew no boundaries, age least of all.

  Forty minutes later, they pulled into Seldovia’s harbor. The tiny port was littered with boats. Most were fishing vessels that bounced up and down in the water as the wake of the ferry slipped under them. On the hillside, old tar-papered buildings and weathered clapboard houses stumbled down to the water’s edge. Dark smoke rose from their metal flue chimneys, staining the gray sky. A hint of a road snuck around them. The sound of children playing floated over the water. She felt her baby squirm.

  Neil suddenly looked at her. “You okay?”

  She took a breath and drew a smile across her face. “It’s the baby. It’s moving.”

  His expression exploded into a vision of wonder. “Oh, Janny! Really?” He put his hand over her abdomen and held it there gently.

  The woman across from them frowned. Janet knew it was childish, but she couldn’t help staring back and enjoying the moment. She turned her attention back to Neil. “Move your hand up a little and to the right. Feel him?”

  “It’s a he?”

  “I don’t know. It could be a girl. I’ve just been coming to think of it as a ‘he’ for some reason.”

  “So you’ve felt him before?”

  “Yes … I meant to tell you several times, but they were just flutters that I knew you wouldn’t be able to feel. This is stronger. Did you feel that?”

  Neil’s face blossomed into a smile. “Yes, I felt it!”

  There were no words in Janet’s heart to describe watching him as he experienced their baby moving inside her. It was as if all the dark clouds that had been haunting him for the last two weeks had parted and there he was, shining like a bright, copper penny.

  They grabbed a cone and a map at one of the little shops in town. Headed for a trail at the far end of the village. Along the way, they passed children playing in the street. Janet watched a little one toddle along after the older children. He had short curly brown hair and large brown eyes. He turned his ruddy face toward her and flashed a beaming smile. Her hand went to her belly again, felt the subtle roundness.

  “Your cone’s dripping, sweetie,” Neil said.

  She stopped walking and looked up. Saw a tiny stream of chocolate running over her thumb. Licked it away. When she turned back to look at the child, he was in his mother’s arm and heading down the street. At last, she said, “Do you ever think of what our little one might look like?”

  Neil wiped his chin with a napkin. Waited for her to catch up to him. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

  “Not until just now.” She followed him across the village square and recalled the face of the little boy she’d passed a moment ago. She melded it with Neil’s broad and sturdy nose spattered with freckles, his full lips and square jaw and saw her son in her mind’s eye. “I think he’ll look like you.”

  He eyed her sidelong. Chuckled. “God forbid.”

  “Oh, stop. Oh, look! An art studio. Want to go in?”

  Neil shot her a reluctant smile. “Maybe on the way back?”

  “Okay, but it’ll cost you.” She shifted the strap of her camera bag over her shoulder and took another bite of her cone. “You ever think about your son … Trevor?”

  “Some.” He popped the last of his cone in his mouth. “But I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Neil said. He checked the bright colored paper map and pointed ahead. “There’s the sign for the trail. Let’s go have some fun!”

  An hour later they emerged from a winding dirt path onto a rocky horseshoe beach littered with driftwood. The clouds had parted and a ray of sunshine poked down through the trees huddling around the ragged cove. Janet removed her shoes. Rolled up her pant legs. Waded out into the icy, shallow water. Neil planted himself on a log near the mouth of the trail and watched her splash around. A moment later, he had her camera out, taking pictures of her. She wasn’t used to having her photograph taken. It was always the other way around. She sort of liked it and struck a couple of poses.

  “Hey you,” she called back. “Take your shoes off and join me.”

  He shook his head. “I’m busy.”

  She rolled her eyes. Splashed around a litt
le more. “You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes.” She bent down and lifted a shell out of the water and turned it over in her hand. After studying the purple hued stain in its center, she headed back to him.

  “Look what I found,” she said, offering Neil the shell.

  He set her camera down beside him. Took it and held it up. “Wow, nice.”

  Janet frowned. “Camera goes in the bag, sweetie.”

  “Right. Sorry ‘bout that.” He gave her back the shell and picked the camera up.

  “It’s okay. Just have to be mindful of it. That’s my livelihood there.” She ran her fingers over the rippled surface of the shell to the smooth center. “I’m gonna keep this.”

  Neil tucked the camera into its compartment and looked up. “Okay.”

  “You want to know why?”

  “A souvenir?”

  She sat beside him. “No. It reminds me of you.”

  “Okay. I can hardly wait to hear this one.”

  She playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, stop already. It reminds me of you because it’s rough on the outside and beautiful on the inside.” She turned his face toward her with a finger. “Are you happy?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Good.” She closed her eyes. Breathed in the cool brine air. “This place reminds me of my beach.”

  “Does it?”

  “Yes.” She took another deep breath. “There’s a quiet spirit about this place. If you close your eyes, you can feel it.” She paused. “I could stay here all day. Do you remember the time when I first took you to my beach?”

  “Yeah.” A faraway look came to his face. “We talked for a long time. You helped me get past what happened to Meg.”

  But it’s where we fell in love with each other, too. Why did he pick that thought to remember? “Yeah, right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “It’s okay.” He put his arm around her, pulling her close. They watched the waves roll in and scour the beach. Finally, he said, “When did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That you were falling in love with me?”

  “I’m not sure. It just sort of happened,” she lied. She glanced at him and smiled. “Besides, even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She eyed him playfully. “It’s one of the mysteries we keep to ourselves. Can’t give away everything.”

  “You’re an ‘itch’!”

  “I have to be. Keep you in line.” Her hand shot out around him and dug into his ribs. He tried to grab it, but she was too fast and found another spot to tickle, and then another and another. A moment later, they were on the ground with her sitting on his chest, knees pinning his arms down.

  “Okay, okay, stop already,” he cried, looking up at her. His laughing gaze shifted into a soft penetrating stare, as if he were tracing every line of her face. “I love you.”

  “I know.” She bent her head, enclosing them in a curtain of long, dark hair. “Do you know why I love you?”

  He gazed up at her, and she thought she would melt. “No, tell me.”

  “Because when you look at me like that, I feel as if I’m the only person in the world that matters. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. For the first time in my life I feel like I belong somewhere, that I’m not this kid looking in through the glass of a candy store, watching everyone else live their lives. Thank-you for stopping on that winter night and being there for me.”

  “And I will always be there for you.”

  16

  January 15th, 1984 -

  “Push!” Neil cried.

  Janet squeezed her eyes shut as the contraction seized her with a savage grip. Her breath stuck in her throat. Neil put his hand under her back and bent her forward. She no longer felt his hand under her. All she knew was the unbearable pressure that pushed out from inside her. She grunted then yelled out in a voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

  “Okay, Janet. The baby’s head is crowning. One, maybe two more good pushes and we’ll be there,” the doctor said.

  She caught her breath as best as she could. Her body felt as if it were about to split open. A cloth wiped her face. She opened her eyes and saw Neil watching her. He stroked her hair and shot her an encouraging smile. “We’re almost there, sweetie. We can do it.”

  She panted. Not because she had learned and practiced it for the past three months, but because she had no choice. She shot him an indignant smile, and between breaths, said, “What’s this … ‘we’ stuff?”

  A giggle came from somewhere in the room.

  “Okay, Janet,” the doctor said. “Home stretch now. Next contraction, give it all you got.”

  Like I haven’t been giving it my all? She swallowed. Forced a deep breath. Narrowed a stern eye at her husband. And you’re getting a vasectomy. Clenching her face, she braced herself for another ferocious effort and dug her fingernails into Neil’s hand.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…”

  “Push! Keep pushing, Janet!” the doctor encouraged. “You’re almost there!”

  She grit her teeth. Her head felt like it was going to explode. Stars appeared in front of her eyes, and then all at once, her body opened up and for an instant, she felt like she was emptying out her insides. Her eyes rolled back in her head and with it, she had a sensation of leaving her body. The next thing she knew, she was looking into the beautiful gaze of her husband. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes as she heard their child’s shrill squalling.

  “It’s a boy,” Neil said as the nurse lifted the child up for her to see before taking him out of her sight. A moment later, the nurse was back and she laid the child on Janet’s sopping breast. The baby curled his legs, grabbed at her gown with tiny hands, as if climbing a mountain.

  Janet let go of Neil’s hand and cradled the child against her. Ran her fingers through the child’s fine copper hair. Peered into his tiny blue eyes. Felt the bond solidify. It was instant, unbreakable, and in that moment, everyone in the room disappeared except her and her baby. She studied him like a photograph, checking his fingers and toes. Inhaled his newborn scent. Imprinted him on her heart. He was perfect and he was hers.

  Neil bent over her. Kissed her brow softly and laid his hand over his child’s back. “He has your nose.”

  “And your hair,” she said, without looking up.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a nurse edge beside the bed, clipboard in hand. “What a beautiful baby. Have you picked out a name for him yet?”

  “Yes, we have,” Janet said. She nuzzled the child. “His name will be Nathan Alexander Porter.”

  In August of that year, Neil’s right hand began to shake. It was barely noticeable at first, but by Thanksgiving, it had developed into a significant tremor. Janet worried. Begged him to go to see the doctor. But there was always some excuse from him that he was too busy with this or that. As soon as things lightened up, he’d make an appointment. Except that things never seemed to lighten up.

  Janet knew the real reason. He was afraid. Although he rarely talked about the vast difference in age between them anymore or his concern over what could happen someday, she knew it was on his mind.

  She put Nate down for a nap and went across the hall. Neil’s office had taken over June’s old studio space. Where June’s studio had always been a cluttered cornucopia of art brushes, paints, and canvases, Neil’s office was a neatly organized affair. Every pencil, piece of paper, stapler, picture arranged just so, and they never left their spots except for use or cleaning.

  Even the books on the bookshelves were in alphabetical order. A baseball signed by Mickey Mantle and a picture of him with Reggie Jackson sat front and center on the credenza behind his ‘Pilgrim’ oak desk, which had been passed down through generations. He was sitting at it, pencil in hand, as the afternoon sunlight poured in over his shoulder. A drawing was rolled out in front of him. A yellow legal pad sat on top of it. Janet wa
tched the pencil jerk back and forth erratically as it hovered over the pad. Oddly, when he wrote the shake went away.

  Suddenly, he looked up and set the pencil down as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I want you to see a doctor about that tremor, and I mean it this time, Neil!”

  He frowned. “It’s just a little thing.”

  “Little thing, my butt. Come on, Neil. This isn’t just about you anymore. You have Nate to think about.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So!”

  He got up and came around the desk. “I just hate having people poke and prod me, is all.”

  “As if I don’t? Look, you make an appointment, or I will.” She went to his desk. Picked up the phone and offered him the receiver.

  He took it from her grudgingly. Punched in a number. She knew he wanted her to leave, and usually she gave him privacy on the phone, but she wasn’t budging. At last, he cleared his throat and hung up. “The answering service picked up. Must be out golfing or something. I’ll call tomorrow, first thing.”

  She measured his words and looked hard at him. “Promise me.”

  His voice rose an octave. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “The baby’s sleeping,” she said in a stern half whisper. He looked off through the window. “Can you look at me please? I want you to promise.”

  “Fine, I promise!”

  “Why are you being like this?”

  “Like what?” he said, furrowing his brow.

  “A jerk!”

  “A jerk?”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “I believe that’s what I said.”

  “I’m tired and I have a ton of work, okay?”

  “You always seem to have a ton of work when you’re avoiding something. You know, I begin to wonder if you’re more interested with your job than us?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he shot back.

  “You spend most of your time working lately. You have a son, too, you know.”

  He huffed. “I’m well aware of it.”

  “And Christmas is coming. Not to mention, I have a shoot down in Big Sur next week.”