The Beloved Son

by Jay Quinn

  “But you are concerned that Sven feels submissive to Rob?” Caroline asked him with interest.

  “Sven told me he wanted an opportunity to think for himself,” Karl told her. “He said he was tired of trying to make everything right for everybody. I’m not sure that by encouraging him to move to Manhattan with Rob, I was seeing him as the wife. Maybe I would have better served him by encouraging him to go it alone.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Caroline answered with alacrity. “You told him what you honestly thought. And I agree with what you told him. After twenty-six years, Sven knows his part in that relationship, and what’s more important, he knows how he defines himself. It’s obvious he’s got the more giving and caring personality. I think that his willingness to be the nurturer is why we see him in a wifely role.”

  “I think you hit the nail on the head,” Karl agreed. “I certainly am not a very nurturing person—you’ve always held up that end of the relationship for us. Still, I’m not certain that telling him to follow Rob to New York was not discounting him m some way.”

  “No, you went with telling what you felt was right, all things considered. I would have told him the same thing,” she concluded bluntly.

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Karl said with some relief. “It did seem to me like it would be a waste of twenty-six years to give up on the relationship because of…”

  “Middle-aged angst,” Caroline concluded for him. “That’s what people do—they throw everything away because of this chasm you come upon when you’re middle-aged, and you think the only way across it is to leave everything behind and jump, free as a bird. Look at all the couples we know who’ve done that.”

  Karl nodded and changed lanes again. His exit was coming up. “You’re absolutely right, of course,” he told his wife.

  “I’m glad you think so.” Caroline smiled. “You and I just held hands and jumped together. Buying the town house and starting a new phase of our lives in a new place is one of the smartest things we’ve ever done. I think Sven and Rob moving to New York and beginning again is wise, too. Don’t you?”

  Karl switched on his turn signal and merged into the exit lane for Glades Road, then said, “I think it will bring them closer together. I really do. Once they get away from all this history down here, they’ll need each other in a whole new way.”

  “Damn straight,” Caroline said and laughed. “Straight? Get it?”

  Karl snickered and said, “You’re a trip, as our daughter says.” As he swung onto Glades Road, he caught sight of Sven’s Excursion a traffic light ahead. He was glad. He wanted them all to arrive as a group and get in their greetings together. For the rest of the way to his parents’ house, he kept an eye on the big back end of Sven’s SUV, until he pulled into the drive just after Sven did.

  Annike and Frank were waiting for them in the front yard. They stood by a grouping of ixora around a cluster of queen palms on the side of the lot opposite the drive. It looked as if they’d simply been on a stroll in the front yard, with Frank’s arm protectively around Annike’s waist, but Karl knew they had deliberately come outside to wait for them. Annike’s face radiated happiness, and Frank’s grin bespoke a pride and longing to welcome his family. They were smartly dressed and made quite a picture for Karl, Melanie, Caroline, and Sven to hold in their memory as a snapshot of that moment. Karl was deeply touched by their eagerness to see his family, and the care they’d given to making the impression that everything was alright.

  As they all spilled from their cars, Annike broke away from Frank’s embrace and started toward them. For Karl, so much hung on how she greeted them. Would it be m Swedish or English? Was she as fully there as she seemed to be?

  “My whole family!” Annike declared, reaching out her arms as if to embrace them all. Karl felt relief flood him as Melanie stepped into her grandmother’s waiting arms and hugged her close. Shyly, Frank stepped up beside them and waited his turn to be embraced by his granddaughter. Karl watched as Melanie released her grandmother and warmly embraced Frank in turn.

  Caroline presented herself next to be hugged and exclaimed over, as Sven and Karl hung back. “Oh! It seems like forever since I’ve seen you,” Annike told Caroline.

  “And you are as lovely as ever,” Frank added as he hugged Caroline.

  “Boys!” Annike said and held out her arms. In tandem, Karl and Sven stepped forward to be embraced by their mother. She let them go and stepped back to look them over. “And where is Rob?” she asked Sven.

  “He has to work today,” Sven told her gently. “But he sends his love.”

  “Nonsense!” Annike said as she drew Sven close to her side, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Han gjorde icke vilja till ha att göra med din fader,” she said softly. He didn’t want to deal with your father.

  “Plundra tanken Pappa skulle hellre njuta av rättvis Karl och hans familj idag. Särskilt sedan dess vi vill bli be om till deras sakerna. Du vet a hur Pappa få,” Sven whispered to his mother. Rob thought Dad would rather enjoy just Karl and his family today. Especially since we will be asking for your things. You know how Dad gets. Karl noticed that Sven gave her a secret look and nod.

  “Han er en skarp pojke,” Annike replied with an understanding nod. He is a smart boy.

  Karl caught enough of the exchange to get the gist of it.

  “Stop it, you two,” Frank said irritably. “This is a family day. I don’t want you jabbering in private so we can’t understand you. It’s rude.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Sven answered obediently.

  Mollified, Frank gave him a curt nod and reached for Karl’s hand. “How much of that crap can you still understand?”

  Karl took his father’s hand and clasped his upper arm. “Enough to get me in trouble.”

  His father returned the familiar pressure of Karl’s grip and said, “You let me know if they say anything about me, deal?”

  “It’s a deal, Dad,” Karl told him. “Sven was just checking on Mom,” he lied gently.

  His mother looked at Karl and slyly winked. “Why don’t we all go in and have a nice Bloody Mary before brunch?” she suggested brightly.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Melanie said as she put her arm around her grandmother and turned toward the front door.

  “Mom, I don’t know if you should,” Sven said quietly.

  “Get off her back,” his father replied just as quietly. “She took her medicine at seven-thirty. She can have one drink. Don’t be so bossy for once.”

  Sven shrugged and laughed. “Okay, Dad. I promise to be easy on you guys today. It’s a holiday, right?”

  “Yes it is,” Frank said as he reached for Caroline’s hand. “Now, you’d like a Bloody Mary, wouldn’t you, Caroline?”

  “I’ve been looking forward to one all morning,” Caroline admitted. “And you make the best ones in the world, so put me at the head of the line.”

  “I already have a pitcher made and waiting in the refrigerator,” Frank told her happily as he led her up the walk. “God, you look good. You look like a girl—how do you do it?”

  Caroline flashed her father-in-law a flattered smile and laughed. “Karl keeps me on my toes.”

  “I bet you need to keep him in line,” Frank said with his own laugh.

  Sven nudged Karl’s shoulder and rolled his eyes as they brought up the rear and entered the house. Karl returned his look with a grin as he shut the door behind them and followed the group into the dining room. Like Sven, he scanned the set table to see if there was anything out of place. Both were relieved to find it set perfectly and graced by a bowl of cut flowers. Further surprises awaited them in the breakfast room. The table held a finished casserole that promised to be deliciously eggy and a plate of thinly sliced ham. A tray held croissants wrapped in a white napkin, and various condiments were set out among bowls of fresh fruit cut and ready to be spooned onto the plates stacked off to one side.

  “Who made brunch?” Sven asked with a forced note of brightness in his
voice.

  “Your father and I,” Annike said gaily from the counter. “You would be proud of him, Sven. I found a recipe in Southern Living for the quiche casserole, and your father insisted on helping me. Doesn’t it smell heavenly?”

  “Dad!” Karl called across the room, “you’ve been holding out on us. I didn’t know you were a chef.”

  As his father turned from the refrigerator with the pitcher of Bloody Marys, he gave Karl a grin and said, “Just another talent I’ve discovered. I hope you can get it down.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be terrific,” Sven said as he began filling glasses with ice from a bucket on the counter. “You and Mom have it looking really nice in here.”

  Frank shot Sven a wary look but then ascertained that he was sincere and gave him a smile. “It’s important to your mom that everything be just so.”

  “You did a great job, Dad. I mean it,” Sven said softly but just loud enough for Karl to hear above the chatter generated by Annike, Caroline, and Melanie.

  “You’ve got dinner covered, right?” Frank asked.

  “Yes,” Sven told him. “But I’d better get the meat out of the freezer.”

  “I took care of that,” Frank said proudly. “It’s thawing m the sink.”

  “Excellent,” Sven said as his father began to pour the drinks. “Dad, I’m going to get dinner started and then take off. Rob and I are going out to this Italian place we like. I thought you and Mom might enjoy having Karl’s family all to yourself for a while. They’ll clean up for you. Is that okay?”

  Frank stopped pouring the drinks for a moment and glanced at Sven with a disapproving eye. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be, since you’ve made plans,” he said resentfully.

  “Dad, it was my suggestion,” Karl chimed in easily. “I thought Sven might enjoy a night off with Rob, and we’d get to enjoy you and Mom ourselves.”

  Frank nodded as he finished pouring the last drink. “So you and Rob are back to being all lovey-dovey, then?”

  “Dad, I never said we stopped,” Sven answered quietly.

  “You’re a fool, is what I’m saying,” Frank told him angrily. “You make me sick, the way you run after him like a teenaged girl.”

  The conversation on the other side of the room stopped abruptly, and the silence stung everyone in the room but Frank. He picked up a glass of the cocktail and drank half of it before setting it down on the counter and filling it up once more. “What’s everybody waiting for?” he asked irritably. “Come and have a drink. Let’s get this party started.”

  Caroline shot Karl an alarmed, questioning look, which he answered with a grim smile. Melanie looked from her grandfather to her uncle and seemed to comprehend in a flash the nature of the discord. Annike just stood and glared at her husband angrily.

  Gracefully, Melanie strode to the counter and waited for her grandfather to hand her a drink, which he did with a set smile. “I can’t believe you’re old enough to be having a Bloody Mary with us old folks,” he told her.

  Melanie’s laugh seemed a brittle tinkle in the charged room. “You’re not old, you’re timeless, Grumpy… I mean Gramps.”

  Frank laughed and gave her a genuine smile. “How can I be grumpy when you’re so pretty? I’m in a good mood just having you around. Caroline, Annike, come get your drinks. I want to make a toast.”

  As Karl and Sven took up their glasses, Caroline and Annike each accepted one from Frank. Once everyone held a glass, Frank raised his and said, “To family. To being together, and to the future!”

  They each echoed his sentiments and the glasses met in small clinking tones. Then the group broke into various subgroups as everyone chatted amiably and enjoyed their drinks. The ugly cloud of Frank’s little outburst dissipated and dispelled as the liquor lulled everyone into a feeling of ease and heightened hunger. Before long, Annike invited each of them to make a plate, and appetite overcame conversation. Frank’s cooking was genuinely appreciated and complimented. In the dining room where they had spent festive times together, the little family did come to feel like it was a holiday. As they treated themselves to seconds of food and drinks, the mood grew mellow.

  13

  AT LAST FRANK, seated at the head of the table, tinkled his fork against his empty water glass and called for everyone’s attention. “You all know by now that Annike and I will soon be moving into a small apartment. Besides having a chance to all get together here in this house once more, part of our plan for today is to have you all choose the furniture you want, and divide up the keepsakes. You’re welcome to have anything we won’t be taking with us, and if you chose something that we are… well… you’ll just have to wait a little longer for it, right, Annike?”

  “That’s right,” Annike said brightly. “But we are sincere in saying we want you to be able to keep something from our many years of homemaking, to remind you of home and of us. I have divided the family pictures into albums, with a set for Sven and a set for Karl. Other than that, please take whatever you want. Whatever is left, we are going to give to charity.”

  “Oh, yes,” Frank added, “I will pay to ship whatever you want. I’ve already talked to the moving company about it. Now, here’s what we’re going to do, I have a legal pad to make a list and a roll of masking tape and a Sharpie to label the furniture. So why don’t you all sit for a minute and think about it, while I go get my supplies.”

  “Dad, Mom,” Karl said, “on behalf of Caro and Mel and myself, I want to thank you for your generosity. I’m sure there are things that each of us want, and I want you to know we’ll cherish whatever we get.”

  When he’d finished his little speech, Sven, Caroline, and Melanie applauded. Then they began to murmur amongst themselves excitedly.

  “Karl,” Frank said as he stood. “Would you come with me for a moment?”

  “Sure, Dad,” Karl said and stood. He waited until his father made his way to his end of the table, and then followed him as he walked not into the main house but into the foyer. By the front door, his father stopped and took down the crucifix that had hung there for as long as Karl could remember. In fact, Karl remembered the same crucifix hanging by the front door in their house in New Jersey. He remembered that when he was a little boy, his mother would pick him up on her hip to wave good-bye to his father each morning as he left for work, and part of that memory was his mother teaching him to say a Hail Mary for his father’s day and his safe return. It had been a regular part of his childhood. And the crucifix was as much a part of the front door as the jamb itself.

  Frank looked at the cross in his hand and slowly extended it to Karl. “Son, you don’t know this, but I wasn’t raised Catholic. I wasn’t raised as anything. The most you know about my side of the family is that we didn’t get along.” The old man stopped and looked again at the crucifix he held out to his son. “I became a Catholic so I could marry your mother. And I was happy to do it. The priest that gave me my instruction, Father Frost… I’ll never forget him… anyway, he gave me this on our wedding day and told me to keep it hung by my front door, so that every time I came in or went out, I would remember what I believed in. It’s hung by my front door ever since.”

  Karl took the cross from his father and was amazed at its heft. It was not a cheap piece of sentimental bric-a-brac, but was freighted with something more substantive, than superstition. The corpus did not possess a contemporary, bland-faced Christ, but the face of agony and redemption in the old style, before the faith had become obtuse and accommodating.

  “Karl,’’ his father said softly. “I know you don’t believe anymore, and I respect your feelings on the subject. But I ask you, please, take this and hang it by your front door. Make sure Melanie gets it when the time is right. There’s an awful lot of answered prayers associated with that piece of wood and metal in your hand. You can say you’re doing it just because you’re humoring your old man. But hang it up by your front door and let all those prayers I’ve said for you over the years go home and stay with you, w
ill you?”

  “What about Sven?” Karl asked his father. “Sven is still a believer. You should give it to him.”

  Sadly, his father shook his head. “Karl, no grandchildren are ever going to be passing through his front door. Whatever Sven believes is going to die with him. You’re the one that has some effect on the faith of the children that will come.”

  Karl looked at the crucifix and saw it for what it meant to his father. He remembered what it meant to him once. He realized how churlish it would be to tell his father he didn’t want it or what it meant. He nodded at last and said, “Thanks, Dad. I’ll hang it up by the front door, I promise.”

  Frank patted his son on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Sven. I gave him his own crucifix when I helped him buy that little old house on Singer Island. I’ve never been there, but he told me he’d put it up by his front door.”

  Karl searched his memory of Sven’s house for the image of a crucifix, and did recall seeing one in the living room. It had struck him as incongruous in that stylishly minimalist space. Over the bank of light switches by the front door, the red wood of the cross and ivory-colored corpus looked startlingly out of place. “It’s there,” he assured his father, “right by the front door.”

  “Well, this one’s yours,” his father said. “Keep the family tradition alive, will you?”

  Karl looked at the crucifix and saw what it meant to his father. He remembered what it had meant to him once. He realized how churlish it would be to tell his father he didn’t want it. He nodded at last and said, “Thanks, Dad. I’ll hang it up by the front door” He turned away before he had to face his father again. He wasn’t sure he would keep his promise, but it was a harmless one to make when it seemed to mean so much to the old man.

  “I’m going to get my pad and tape,” Frank said. “Be thinking of what you want—I’ll be right back.”