Sam was relieved that Stanford, his father, and Lawrence Abrams knew about the baby. Eric had told the Aherns that information on Saturday morning, saving Sam from stewing about it any longer. He had slept poorly the last few nights, but that evening, he was lighthearted. And he was tired, but would nod off as soon as he and Renee managed to get home.
From how friendly she was with Michael Taylor, Sam wasn’t certain when they would leave. While she said no more than hello to Stanford, she had chatted easily with Lawrence, but now she and Michael, as he insisted both Aherns to address him, were seated at the patio table, their cheery voices wafting into the living room, where Sam sat beside Lynne, who had looked pale, but showed no signs of impending illness. Across from them Stanford sat in the recliner, while Eric and Lawrence flanked those on the sofa. Sam sometimes held Lynne’s hand, light squeezes shared between them. Sam Ahern had spent the last two weeks contemplating the Snyders’ news, alternating praying for them, then for himself and Renee. She had gotten her period during that time, deflating him a little. But she exhibited no anxiety, only noting how pleased she was for Lynne not to be suffering alongside her.
Eric and Stanford talked about the show in October, also about Eric’s current work, which was represented by the sleeping portrait of Lynne, on display in the sunroom. As far as Sam knew, Stanford had only seen one other recent picture of Lynne, a nude painted before the couple realized they were expecting, but in which Lynne was probably already pregnant. Sam grasped her hand again, and she gripped back, then she giggled so only he would hear. It was fine that Eric was in another world with Stanford and Lawrence; that trio might as well be in a New York gallery, Sam thought. Lynne grasped his hand again, and Sam smiled. If she had the baby in this house, maybe he would be able to be here, albeit in the kitchen. And if she became very noisy, he would walk to the studio, even if snow was falling.
To Sam, the main surprise about Eric and Lynne’s news was how readily both Aherns had accepted it. It wasn’t the focus of conversation between the New Yorkers, although Michael had grown misty-eyed a few times, noting that he adored his grandchildren from Stanford’s three younger sisters. Otherwise, Stanford and Lawrence made little mention of the baby, but Sam and Renee talked about it all the time. Sam wasn’t sure what that meant; they hadn’t discussed Eric’s transformation so intensely, but that wasn’t a happy event. This was the opposite, even if it had resulted due to Eric’s…. Sam inhaled, then smiled, as Lawrence glanced his way, then stood. “Art blah blah blah,” Lawrence said, stretching. “I’m gonna see what the fuss is about outside.”
Eric and Stanford didn’t miss a beat, and Sam chuckled, then gazed at Lynne. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep, although slumber looked like it could be easily found. “Are you tired?” he whispered.
“I’m always tired.” Then she giggled, opening her eyes. “Dr. Salters said after the first trimester, I’ll be feeling better.”
Sam squeezed her hand again. “You’re pretty busy right now.”
“I am, but sometimes it’s hard to believe.”
“I imagine it is.”
That was the mainstay of the Aherns’ discussions; seven months after Eric’s return, that couple had managed what had seemed impossible for several years. Renee knew that they hadn’t used any kind of contraception since they wed, and that was nine years ago, Sam mused, as Lynne still gripped his hand, but not as strongly as before. Then Eric knelt in front of his wife. “Honey, you ready for bed?”
She nodded, her smile broad, warming Sam’s heart. He carried not a single envious thought toward them. Eric had gone to hell and back, taking Lynne with him. They deserved this bliss, and Sam was going to enjoy it as much as he was allowed.
While Stanford exited the living room for the patio, Eric helped Lynne from the sofa, then walked her upstairs. Sam went into the kitchen, tidying the dessert dishes. Lynne and Renee had washed the dinner plates while the men had stepped outside, but Sam had felt like a fifth wheel around Eric and the New Yorkers. Sam thought of them like that, easier than the Taylors and Lawrence Abrams. Lawrence seemed quite affable toward Michael, but then the New York art world was probably as clannish as Sam’s family. Yet, Lawrence had spoken to Sam about the barn painting, reiterating Stanford’s plea that if Sam and Renee ever needed to part with any of their canvases, to just let either Lawrence or Stanford know.
Sam had appreciated the way Lawrence put it; if they needed to part with them, for he would never actively wish to sell any of those pictures, well, except for the three hawks. If they fell on very hard times, Sam would call Stanford, or Lawrence, probably Lawrence, for he was more personable. But it would take a family tragedy for Sam to part with any of the three. Still, that trio of hawks was at times too close to the bone for Sam, yet, oddly enough, it wasn’t in connection to Eric.
After the last plate went in the drainer, Sam dried his hands, then surveyed the kitchen. He liked the larger lay-out, and now with a new addition, the room would be fully employed. Lynne had mentioned that she wanted to get another table, for the far corner; that would be where she would do arts and crafts with…. Then she had grown teary, for the idea of motherhood was still so novel, and somewhat poignant, but not in a distressing way. Nine years, Sam thought to himself, staring at that bare space where one day Lynne would indeed be sitting with her and Eric’s offspring. Sam assumed more than one baby would arrive, but he didn’t equate that to his dreams. Just that now Eric and Lynne could conceive, and while they wouldn’t be as prolific as Fran and Louie, Lynne would more often than not be in the family way until….
Sam laughed out loud; Renee had been teasing him, that he wanted to make good Catholics out of the Snyders, or at least out of Lynne. Lynne hadn’t mentioned attending mass, but she wasn’t completely well either, and that weekend was taken. But soon, Sam felt, and when she did accompany, he wouldn’t pressure her to immediately return. She might only go with them once, then she would move on to other manners of worship. Sam had gone with Josh to a few Protestant celebrations, and while he’d missed the familiar liturgy, God’s presence was always acknowledged. Maybe God was closer to soldiers, Sam had wondered, or maybe there was no difference between Catholics and Protestants. But Sam had never said that aloud to anyone.
Yet, that had to be the truth, because when Sam had grasped Josh, Christ was all around them, keeping Sam sane. He smelled death, also incense. He heard screams, and a choir. He saw chaos alongside the most blinding beauty, and he blinked away tears, having forgotten that detail. But now, with Lynne expecting her husband’s baby, Sam could reclaim that miracle, amid one of the most horrific moments of his life. Josh’s death had been at the top of that list, until Sam was shot. Then Renee’s face, when he first saw her again, had pushed both of those events aside. Coming home to his wife had been a mixed blessing, sort of like finding Eric in the thicket. But now all of those moments seemed far away, as Sam composed himself, hearing men’s voices approaching. Sam didn’t look their way, as three New Yorkers and Eric entered the kitchen. Sam was fixated on that empty space across the room; how many children would one day be seated around that non-existent table?
Sam fixed his gaze on that futuristic figment as he spoke. “Is she asleep?”
“Soon enough. Renee’s up there, girl talk.” Eric stood beside Sam. “But Renee said she’s ready to go home whenever you are.”
Sam nodded, then smiled at Eric and the rest. “Well, it was a lovely evening. Too bad there’s not much pie left.”
“I agree,” Lawrence smiled. “And we finished the custard too, I believe.”
Sam laughed. “We did. But I suppose you have more exquisite fare back east.”
“Mr. Ahern, I have yet to find any dessert that tops Lynne’s pie and your custard. Stanford’s cook is still peeved she can’t get her hands on fresh boysenberries.”
Sam grinned, as Lawrence joined where he and Eric stood. “Call me Sam, please.”
“Only if you’ll call me Lauri
e. Lawrence is for acquaintances and my Aunt Sheila.”
Sam smiled, then shook Lawrence’s outstretched hand. “Laurie it is. One of my buddies in Korea was a Lawrence, always preferred us calling him Larry. But you look like a Laurie,” Sam laughed. “It’s more sophisticated.”
“Was Larry not from New York City?” Lawrence smiled.
“Nope. He was from….” Sam skipped a beat, but his grin was genuine. “Huntsville, Alabama. Always got into fights with my best friend Josh, who was from Natchez, Mississippi. You’d think it’s all the same down there, but believe me, Josh didn’t even like the guys from Louisiana. I couldn’t tell their accents apart, but they all could. And they called all northerners Yanks, even those of us from out West.” Sam chuckled, then looked at Lawrence. “You’d definitely be a Laurie, but that way we wouldn’t have mixed you two up.”
Sam didn’t hear the silence, lost in Larry Hudson’s slow drawl and Josh’s quicker tempo. At first how those two fought made many in the platoon laugh out loud. Josh was more of a backwoods character, while Larry was a chivalrous southern gentleman. Neither had gotten home alive; Larry was killed a few weeks after Josh, and while Sam had mourned him, his grief was still palpable over his best friend’s death. Sam hadn’t thought about Larry Hudson in ages, but it didn’t pain him, and considering Josh wasn’t overly agonizing either. Then Sam glanced at the empty space. Hopefully Eric and Lynne’s son wouldn’t have to fight in a war, then Sam shivered. Better if they had a daughter first off, much better indeed.
Then Sam glanced to his right; Eric and Laurie flanked Renee, who approached her husband while wiping tears from her cheeks. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, grasping her hands.
Her lips trembled, and for a few seconds Sam’s heart raced; was something wrong with Lynne? But Eric remained at Sam’s side. Then Sam swallowed hard. He never spoke about Korea outside the VA hospital. Yet, something about Lawrence…. Laurie, his name was Laurie Abrams. Sam had known a few Jews overseas, but while he’d attended Baptist services with Josh and Larry, Sam had never gone to a Sabbath observance.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” Sam sighed, then shook his head. The evening had gone so well, but he had spoiled it, and right when things between the New Yorkers and an average Catholic couple had seemed amiable. Sam shifted from side to side, then he stopped abruptly, as Laurie gripped Sam and Renee’s hands.
“I’ve always wondered what that conflict was like. My cousin served, but he never talks about it.” Laurie released Sam’s hands, then offered Renee his handkerchief. As she wiped her face, then blew her nose, Laurie reached for Sam’s right shoulder, gripping it strongly. “Did Larry get back to Huntsville?”
Slowly Sam shook his head, hoping that Laurie wouldn’t ask about Josh.
Laurie nodded, then inhaled, letting go of Sam. “My cousin, Seth, is a little younger than me, but he’s never been the same. We used to be really close, he volunteered to go over there, and I tried to talk him out of it, just because I didn’t feel he would make a good….” Laurie sighed. “He wasn’t army material, not that there’s a standard personality type, but he’s an artist, a sculptor. I never understood why he felt so driven to enlist, and he’s never been able to speak about it, so maybe I’ll never know. Sam, did you enlist?”
Sam felt frozen, wishing for Renee to grasp his hands, or maybe Lynne, but hopefully she was asleep, not hearing a single word they said.
“I’m sorry, that was rude. I just….” Laurie sighed again. “I wish I could get into Seth’s head, to free him. I miss him; our mothers are sisters and we practically grew up together. And he was so talent, is so talented!” Laurie shook his head. “Seth was why I got involved in art, well, the part of it I could manage. I represented him for the short time he was active, but he’s never made another piece.” Laurie looked at Sam. “When I learned you were a vet, I wanted to ask about your experiences. Seth’s the only veteran I know, but other than he went over there, that’s all I know. He went over there, but another man came home to us. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bring all this up.” Laurie sighed again. “I’m sorry that Larry didn’t get back to his family. But Sam, I’m glad you did.” Laurie smiled, clasping together Renee and Sam’s hands. “I’m so glad you made it home Sam Ahern.”
In Laurie’s warm grip, and with Renee’s familiar hands close, Sam wanted to tell Laurie that he wasn’t at all surprised that Seth couldn’t talk about Korea. And it wasn’t because Seth was Jewish, or that he’d been a sculptor. But that Sam never spoke about it, except to those who didn’t need an explanation. Yet, they could, and did talk about it, amongst themselves, assuming no one else wanted to know, or if they did, that they would never fathom the hell that war was. It was akin to what Eric endured in coming home, maybe in what it took for him to alter, then remain separated from his wife. Eric never wanted to leave Lynne, but he couldn’t stop it, and while Sam, and Seth, had both chosen to enlist, they did so due to an inexplicable need to…. What had drawn Sam to volunteer to leave his wife and risk his life? And why had Seth made a similar decision?
“What’s your cousin’s full name?” Sam asked quietly.
“Seth Monroe Gordon.”
Sam nodded, then cleared his throat. “Seth Gordon. Well, I didn’t know him, but I’m sorry Laurie. I mean, I’m sorry he came back so…affected.”
Then Sam looked at Eric. Eric didn’t speak, but questions teemed in his eyes, queries that Sam had seen for a long time, but had ignored.
“He is different, but at the same time, we’re all just glad he did come home.” Laurie had a small cough. “God, I didn’t mean to end tonight with a discourse on foreign affairs.”
“Soon it will be all about diapers and pabulum,” Eric smiled.
“Thank goodness for that.” Renee cleared her throat, then shook out the handkerchief, glancing at Laurie. “Thank you. I’ll wash it and get it back to Lynne as soon as possible.”
Laurie shook his head. “Please, it’s no bother. I have a drawer full of them at home. Rare is the chance I get to offer one to such a beautiful artist’s model.”
Sam missed Stanford’s guffaw. Instead Renee’s snort caught his attention. “A beautiful model is trying to sleep over our heads.”
“Another is standing in our midst.” Laurie smiled, then kissed the back of Renee’s hand. “Only Eric could do justice to your eyes, and by God, he did.” Then Laurie laughed quietly. “Mrs. Ahern, you’re going to turn some New York heads, and Sam, you’re a lucky man. And Eric, one of these days I will figure out just how you work that magic.” Laurie gently patted Eric’s right arm. “Something special in this limb, and in your eyes. But we’re better off for your gift.”
“Indeed we are.” Michael smiled, then yawned. “But if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll head to my bed. Lynne’s slumber is leaking through the ceiling.”
“We should be going too.” Renee kissed Michael’s cheek. “Rest well, and have a safe trip home.”
“I shall endeavor to do both, my dear.” Michael extended his hand Sam’s way, and Sam shook it. “Looking forward to seeing you again, if my wife lets me traipse off for another sojourn.”
“Perhaps she can come with you next time,” Renee smiled.
“Perhaps. All right, goodnight gentlemen.” Michael nodded to the rest, then turned to leave the kitchen.
All through that exchange Sam breathed deeply, not giving the missing Mrs. Taylor any of his consideration. As Eric offered to walk the Aherns to the gate, Sam kept peering at Laurie, trying not to stare, but making a poor showing of it. Laurie met Sam’s gaze, nodding his head. Sam nodded back, aching to speak to Seth Gordon, or at least see some of his sculptures. They wouldn’t carry any resonance of Korea, instead representing who Seth had been. Sam didn’t doubt that Seth was no longer that man. He probably never would be again.
Only Eric escorted the Aherns to the gate. Renee remarked that she was glad they, meaning the New Yorkers, knew about the baby, and Eric agreed. He note
d that Lynne had expressed an interest in traveling east for the exhibit, in that it would be their last trip as a twosome. Sam remained silent as Renee agreed, if Dr. Salters didn’t think it would be too taxing. Eric said that yes, if the doctor gave her consent, and Lynne was feeling better, then perhaps they would take the train.
Sam didn’t even say thank you or goodnight to Eric, but their firm handshake conveyed those sentiments, and several others that tumbled through Sam. As Renee said one final goodnight, Sam stared at Eric, who said thanks for coming while nodding his head. The words were for Renee, but far more was expressed in Eric’s nod, yet Sam couldn’t respond verbally. What was there to say? Some men came home physically debilitated, and some were scarred emotionally. Every single one of them was marked, no matter how long they had served, or how they tried to cover it up. To Sam, it was worse on Seth, for he had fashioned art, and now could not. What if Eric hadn’t been able to paint again, then Sam shivered. He opened Renee’s car door, helped her in, then closed the door. Slowly he walked to the driver’s side. All the paintings of Sam and Renee’s families, not to mention those of Lynne and Renee, would never have been created if not for Eric’s need to paint, and that he came home able to do so. But Seth hadn’t been that lucky.
Sam sat in his seat, then started the car. He was halfway home before he realized Renee hadn’t spoken. “Honey, you okay?” he asked while braking for a red light.
She sighed, then grasped his hand. “You didn’t tell them about Josh.”
“Laurie didn’t ask.”
“I know. You said Josh was your best friend.”
“He was. Renee, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….”
“It’s green Sam.”
He looked up. “Oh yeah.” Sam accelerated through the intersection. “Renee, I really am sorry about dragging all that up tonight.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
He huffed. “Yes I should. There wasn’t any place for it and….”
Renee squeezed his hand again. “Sam, do you realize you never talk about it? I had no idea Josh was from Mississippi.”
Sam shook his head. “Now, that’s not true. I’ve told you about Josh before.”
“Sam, I don’t even know his last name.”
Bradley, Joshua Henry Bradley, Sam almost said. He grew up in Natchez, right on the Mississippi-Louisiana state line, and had never left Adams County until he was sent to Virginia for basic training. Josh had two younger brothers and a younger sister, and lived with them, his parents, and his maternal grandmother, in a three-room house where all four Bradley children had been born. Josh had been a St. Louis Cardinals fan, and had played shortstop in high school. He’d left a sweetheart in Natchez, but wasn’t sure if when he got back that she would be waiting for him, as he hadn’t received a letter from her in over two months. Lorene was her name, Lorene Goodley, and she lived up to her name, Josh had smiled broadly when they spoke about women. Josh was two years younger than Sam, but had thought he’d marry Lorene when he got back, unless she had found another boyfriend. He died never knowing that Lorene had been ill with the flu, unable to keep up her end of their correspondence. Sam had written to her a few weeks after Josh’s death, carefully revealing his friend’s intentions, and that Josh hadn’t suffered.
Truth and fiction weaved all through Sam’s Korean experience, but he couldn’t believe that Renee didn’t know Josh’s last name. “Bradley,” he said abruptly. “Josh Bradley. Of course I’ve told you his last name.”
“Bradley,” Renee repeated softly. “Maybe you did.”
Then Sam braked hard, as a yellow light turned red. He stared at his wife, her stoplight eyes full of tears. “Renee, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….”
Softly she touched his hand, resting on the gearshift. “It’s my mistake honey. I just forgot.”
But she hadn’t forgotten, because in all likelihood Sam had never told her. Did fellow vets at the hospital know? Probably. Most likely Sam had told them all about Josh, Larry, and the rest of Sam’s platoon, as he heard about their friends, living and dead. But Seth Gordon didn’t ring any bells, although now Sam would be alert to that name. But that was ages in the past. It was coming on ten years since Sam had served and….
“Honey, it’s green. Sam?”
He gazed at the light, then zoomed through, glancing at a car behind him through the rear view mirror. But only Renee had prompted him, and gently, for he’d been far, far away.
She didn’t speak during the rest of the drive, and she said little until bedtime. Then all she told him was that she loved him, and that she was sorry. Sam said he loved her too, but didn’t ask why she had sought forgiveness. Instead he thought about Laurie Abrams and Seth Gordon. Then Sam wondered if Eric was thinking about Seth. Maybe he was, or maybe he was making love to his wife. Or maybe he was painting…. Sam stopped there, kissed Renee, then turned away from her, not falling asleep until after the living room clock chimed midnight.
Chapter 36
The Hawk: Part Two Page 14
