On Sunday, the twenty-second of April, Renee stood next to her husband near the baptismal font at St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church, as Jane Renee Snyder was ushered into the Lutheran faith. The day was auspicious for more than just one infant’s entry into baptism; Easter Sunday had brought several families to St. Matthew’s that ordinarily wouldn’t have attended, but a host of infants, and a few adults, were baptized that day, making for a longer than usual service, although to the Aherns and Canfields, Catholic Easter mass would have been even lengthier.
Jane was a placid baby, and she was no different in her Auntie Renee’s grasp, although Renee wondered, as soon as they stepped away, if Jane would stir, then howl for her mother. Yet Jane remained asleep as holy water was sprinkled on her forehead. Eric and Lynne stood to the side, their smiles wide, Lynne’s eyes cloudy with tears. Renee’s eyes grew damp, but she blinked that away, staring at her goddaughter. It was her first non-Catholic godchild, but probably not her last, and no longer did Renee feel any trepidation about Eric and Lynne’s decision. After a long talk with that very personable Polish pastor, Renee’s fears had been erased, although an earlier chat with Father Markham had laid the groundwork for Renee’s peace of mind.
Yet now, what was there to worry about? Jane was five and a half weeks old, had been accepted into God’s family, and Renee would leave the rest of it with Christ. As Jane’s turn was over, Sam led Renee away from the font, then Renee handed the baby to her mother. Lynne’s moist eyes and bright smile conveyed her gratitude for Renee and Sam’s presence, and an even stronger thanksgiving of salvation, which Renee felt deeply within her. Eric and Lynne would be baptized later in the year, perhaps in summer, and Renee would attend that service as well. But this morning carried a great gift for Jane’s christening, and for those in attendance. As Renee followed the Snyders back to their pew, she looked for Fran and Louie’s clan, who had made it, albeit after the Aherns and Snyders had been seated. Renee smiled, spotting Louie and Sally on their feet, but Frannie and the younger children had managed to find empty chairs. Then Renee wanted to giggle; Stanford Taylor and Laurie Abrams were seated right where Eric and Lynne were heading.
The church was packed, but the Aherns and Snyders had arrived early, Laurie and Stanford as well. Renee knew why the Canfields were late, and it had little to do with a family of nine getting out the door on Easter Sunday. Fran was pregnant, due in late September, but she hadn’t been well. Renee was surprised that family had come at all, considering how sick Fran was with this confinement, but Sam had said that she so wanted to be present for Jane’s special day. Frannie seemed nonplussed that the Snyders had decided to forgo the Catholic faith, but maybe that was due to a certain Catholic tenant that Fran and Louie just couldn’t ignore.
Renee sat next to Lynne, hoping for another chance to hold Jane. She looked angelic in her long white gown and delicate hat, which was now back on her head, having been removed for the actual baptism. Thin white ribbons had remained tied, but loosely, so that Pastor Jagucki could push the cap just from Jane’s brow to offer the sacrament. Renee had slipped the hat back on once that was over, and Jane looked like a sleeping angel, those dark blue eyes still closed, soft brown curls peeking out from under lace trim. Sam often remarked that those blue eyes weren’t going to last much longer, but Renee snorted when he said it, for she’d seen plenty of brown-eyed infants born to mothers with lighter coloring than Lynne’s. If Jane was meant to have eyes the same hue as her Uncle Sam’s, then she would, but let Sam find that out on his own. Then Renee smiled, as Lynne motioned for her to take Jane. “I need to use the restroom,” Lynne whispered to Renee.
Renee nodded, then asked if Lynne also needed her daughter. Lynne smiled, shaking her head, moving past Sam, down to the end of the pew. Renee shrugged slightly, then scooted a little closer to Eric, only because the pew was tightly packed. Renee ignored the service, gazing over at Laurie, who smiled at her. Stanford seemed bored by it all, but he met Renee’s gaze, then grinned, rolling his eyes. Renee nearly chuckled, then remembered it was Easter.
While Lynne was gone, communion was announced, but Renee and Sam weren’t going up for it. Renee had asked Father Markham about it, and while he was progressive on some points of church doctrine, he was firm that the Aherns should only take the Eucharist in a Catholic setting. But then, Eric and Lynne wouldn’t go up, unless they wanted a blessing, and Renee didn’t think they would, so many people already in line. Laurie and Stanford weren’t going anywhere, then Renee glanced to the back of the church; Louie and Sally remained on their feet, having been joined by Sally’s next two siblings, Will and Jaime. Those boys were as tall as their sister, but not quite to their father’s height. Then Renee craned her neck, finding their younger sister Denise with Helene on her lap. The last two boys, Brad and Johnny, flanked their older sister, but Fran wasn’t among them.
Renee poked Sam, then handed Jane to her father. “I’m gonna go find Fran. She’s not back there anymore.”
Sam nodded. “She’s probably….” Then he frowned. “Maybe Lynne’s with her.”
Renee squeezed his knee, nodding her head. She made her way down the pew, then went right, scanning for the ladies’ room. At the end of the pews, she went left, then saw the restrooms. She entered the women’s, where someone was gagging. Then she saw Lynne, pointing to the open stall, where Fran was quite sick.
“She didn’t want me in there,” Lynne whispered. “It’s such a tiny stall, there’s barely room for her.”
Renee nodded, then cleared her throat. “Frannie, you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Sam’s sister said, then gagged again.
Renee shook her head, then muscled her way into the little space. “Fran, you are not okay. Fran?”
“Water Renee, please?”
Renee backed out, then looked around the small room. “She needs some water. Do you see any cups?”
Lynne glanced at the meager furnishings. “I’ll run to the kitchen, be right back.”
Renee nodded as Fran continued to gag. “Frannie, Lynne’s gone for some water. Honey, are you gonna be okay?”
“Renee, don’t go. Just stay here.”
Fran’s tone was ragged, and Renee shivered. “Frannie, maybe we should run you into the ER. You don’t sound good.”
The gagging stopped, then the toilet was flushed. Fran staggered out a minute later, her face ashen, blue eyes stripped of their color. “I just need to sit for a minute.”
“You need to be in bed. Why’d you come today?”
“God told me to.”
“Oh Fran, for goodness sake.” Renee helped her sister-in-law to a chair, then knelt beside her. She brushed aside graying blonde hair from Fran’s beleaguered face, then grasped her clammy hands. “Honey, you need to see a doctor.”
Fran sighed, then wore a weak smile. “Renee, I’m so sick because….”
Lynne returned, with Sally on her heels. Lynne held Jane, who was starting to cry, and Sally carried the water. “Here Mom. Are you okay?” Sally asked.
“Fine, just lemme have a drink.”
As Fran sipped the water, Lynne sat in the other free chair, and started nursing Jane. As the two mothers made eye contact, Renee felt out of the loop, but she remained on her knees next to Fran, as Sally backed away. “Mom, Dad’s just outside, what should I tell him?”
Fran took a deep breath, then wiped a few tears from her face. “Tell him, oh my lord. Tell him I’m gonna tell your Aunt Renee the truth, and that Mrs. Snyder’s in here too.”
Renee glanced at Sally, who at fifteen looked how Fran used to, years ago. Sally blanched, and stared at the floor. “Are you sure Mom?” asked the frightened teenager.
“Tell me what Fran?” Renee gripped Fran’s free hand. “What’s wrong honey?”
“Go on Sally, and tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Sally nodded, then slipped from the room.
“Fran, oh honey, is something wrong?”
Fran shook her head, b
ut she wept. “We didn’t wanna tell you and Sam yet, we wanted to wait until after little Jane here was baptized, which I guess we did, sort of. Mrs. Snyder, I’m sorry about this, I didn’t mean to upset Jane’s special day.”
“Mrs. Canfield, all that matters is that you’re all right. And please, call me Lynne.”
Fran nodded, then smiled, but it was weary. “Only if you’ll call me Fran. Or Frannie, whichever you prefer.”
Lynne reached out her hand, and grasped Renee’s, which still clutched Fran’s. “Frannie it is.”
Fran nodded, then stroked Renee’s face. “Honey, Louie and I are having twins, or I hope we’re gonna have them.” She paused, then wiped the tears now pouring down Renee’s face. “The doctor said it happens to older mothers, and well, hopefully they’ll be fine, and then I’ll tell you, this really is it. If God wants me to have another baby, he’s gonna do it himself.”
The news flowed through Renee like a burning fire. She hadn’t felt this way when Eric broke the news, nor had she felt it when any of her siblings, or Sam’s, had shared similar sentiments. But then, none of them had been expecting two babies, and none of them looked as exhausted and sick as Fran did.
Renee wanted to ask why, but not to Fran, or to Lynne. Renee wanted to run from that room, head straight to that Polish pastor and shake the answer from him, and if no reply was forthcoming, she would march straight over to St. Anne’s and corner both priests. And if they couldn’t give her an adequate response, she would camp out right in front of the altar, and petition God with her query. Why of all things was forty-five-year-old Frannie, mother of seven, now pregnant with twins?
“Are you sure?” Renee mumbled, still grasping Fran’s hand. “I mean, how do you know?”
“We heard two heartbeats Renee. I’m sick as a dog, and I’m already in maternity clothes. If it’s not twins, it’s a Martian.”
Fran’s tone was still drained, but the small joke lightened the mood. “Oh my God,” Renee said, then she crossed herself. Then she gazed at Lynne, who nodded and smiled. Renee stood, then sighed. “Well, I hope nine kids makes him happy.”
“Are you kidding?” Fran shook her head. “Louie’s anything but happy.”
“Not Louie. God. If this doesn’t satisfy him, I don’t know what will.”
“Renee, watch what you say.” But Fran smiled as she spoke.
Renee gazed at the ceiling, jamming fists into her sides. “God forgive me, but you can see this woman, she’s tired, she’s already got seven kids. If she’s gonna have two more, then please just let her not be so sick. Amen.”
“Amen,” Fran and Lynne said in unison.
“Amen,” Renee repeated, then again fell to her knees, embracing her sister-in-law, both women in tears.
All the guests for Jane’s baptism loitered outside St. Matthew’s as Eric and Lynne again thanked Pastor Jagucki. Eric mentioned they were having lunch, followed by dessert, if the pastor wished to join them, but Pastor Jagucki declined, although he said he was tempted by Mrs. Snyder’s pie. The threesome shook hands, then Eric escorted Lynne to where their friends gathered. Eric hadn’t expected the pastor to accept, he was probably invited to many homes that afternoon. But Eric had wanted to extend the invitation, for he was thankful to have had Jane’s baptism occur at this church, a place where Eric felt much peace. He looked forward to his and Lynne’s baptisms later that year, but more on his mind was what had happened in the ladies’ room during communion.
Lynne hadn’t said anything concrete, and as they reached the rest, there wasn’t time for her to speak now. Eric noted how Laurie easily made small talk with Louie, while Stanford chatted with Sam and Renee, the awkwardness of March forgotten. Eric smiled, pleased for that. Then he gazed at Fran, who still looked unwell. Sally toted Helene, while the other children milled around their mother.
“Shall we head home?” Eric asked Lynne. Then he stroked Jane’s cheek, making the sleepy baby stir.
“Don’t do that, or I’ll be nursing her in the car. Yes, we should go.” Then Lynne leaned close to Eric. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”
He nodded, then cleared his throat. “All right everyone. Food and drinks are waiting at our house. We’ll see you there.”
The Canfield children cheered, some asking if they could ride with Aunt Renee and Uncle Sam. Louie shooed the four boys in Sam’s direction, as the two older girls followed their mother, Sally still carrying Helene. Sam hollered to Louie to follow him, while Stanford and Laurie headed to Eric’s vehicle. Stanford got in the front, Laurie, Lynne and Jane sitting in the backseat.
If they had been alone, Eric knew that Lynne would have already told him the scoop. But with Stanford and Laurie’s presence, that news would remain under wraps. Eric wasn’t worried, for right after the service, Renee had pulled Sam aside, and he didn’t seem overly troubled. He looked surprised, but Eric had a few guesses. Yet, the Canfields were coming for lunch, so Fran couldn’t be that ill.
“What’s wrong with Louie’s wife?” Laurie asked, once they had cleared the church parking lot.
“Louie’s wife?” Stanford smirked. “Good God, you’re on first name basis with them now?”
Eric chuckled as Laurie clucked. “Why yes I am Stan. He’s even got me thinking about converting.”
Stanford didn’t offer a reply, but Eric laughed out loud. “I’ll be sure to attend that baptism.”
Laurie smiled. “My father would roll over in his grave.” Then Laurie paused. “Lynne, is Mrs. Canfield all right?”
“Why is it Louie and Mrs. Canfield?” Stanford asked, turning back to face Laurie.
“Because Louie asked me to call him by his first name, and I’ve not yet had the pleasure of speaking with his better half.”
Eric listened to the men’s gentle banter, noting that Stanford clearly did not want to learn the nature of Mrs. Canfield’s ill health. The New Yorkers jousted with each other all the way to the Snyders’ home, and Lynne never had to reveal the exact nature of Fran’s malady.
Once everyone had arrived, Renee and Sam set up the buffet, with Laurie’s assistance. Eric kept his eye on Frannie, but she seemed better after lunch was eaten. The day was warm, and the children ran around the garden, playing hide and seek and other outdoor games. Only Helene remained near her parents, or in Sam’s grasp, if he wasn’t cuddling his newest godchild.
Eric rarely held Jane that afternoon, for she was in high demand, when not at Lynne’s bosom. Lynne took Jane upstairs to nurse, and only then did Eric get a moment with his wife and child. But Lynne kept mum about Fran’s health, for often Fran and Renee were seated on the bed, chatting with the new mother.
Eric didn’t learn anything until after the last guest had left, which didn’t include Stanford and Laurie. Once those men said their goodnights, Eric locked the house, finding his wife and daughter in Jane’s favorite position. The baby was filling out, and Eric sat beside Lynne, tickling his daughter’s plump chin.
Jane pulled away, and gave her father a quizzical look. Eric laughed as Jane then returned right to Lynne’s breast. “Can’t distract her for long,” he said. “She knows what she likes.”
Lynne smirked, then gave a languid sigh. “It was a beautiful day, but I didn’t get enough of just us, although she never went hungry.” Lynne smiled at her husband. “I mean, it was great to share her, but every time I came up to feed her, Renee was on my heels, or Fran, or Sally.” Lynne laughed. “She doesn’t look like a little girl anymore.”
“No, she doesn’t. Looks like her mother, like an adult.” Eric said that softly. “So Lynne, what’s wrong with Fran?”
Lynne stared at Jane. “She’s expecting twins.”
“Oh my God!” Eric shook his head. “Well, that’s gonna be a lot of work.”
“Uh-huh. She’s pretty sick, and well….” Lynne hesitated, then set Jane over her shoulder. A sleepy burp emerged, then Jane looked up, awoken by her actions. Lynne placed her to the other breast, and Jane continued her dinner
.
Eric watched all those movements, his heart bound to these two females more than he thought was possible. Part of the afternoon had been spent sharing his latest canvases, Jane and Lynne in various poses. He only showed those that were family-oriented, but a few nudes were in the studio, paintings that Eric might never show anyone but the Aherns and Jane, when she was older, but not as old as Sally Canfield. Then Eric sighed. That girl was aged because of how many siblings she had to look after, and two more were on the way.
“How’d Renee take it?” Eric asked quietly.
“As well as could be expected. Fran seemed more resigned than anything, and what could Renee say?” Lynne relayed Renee’s initial sentiments, which made Eric smile, then he winced. Sam had treated his sister with kid gloves all afternoon, and had walked at her side when the Canfields made their departure. Eric recalled Fran’s weariness two years ago, when he’d sketched her, Sally, and Helene. Fran was older now, and two babies would take much from an already overworked mother. “It’s either feast or famine,” Eric said, stroking his daughter’s head. Those brown curls were lengthy, although Jane had lost some hair along the sides and back of her skull. Still she had a mass of hair, and like Renee, Eric thought those blue eyes were for keeps. Sam tried to distance himself from Jane, but he and Renee were a part of her, and now were her godparents. As the baby finished nursing, Lynne handed her to Eric. He burped her, then set several kisses on her face. Jane stirred, but tried to ignore it. Eric didn’t stop until the baby’s eyelids fluttered open, making her father smile.
“How long you wanna keep her up?” Lynne asked, reattaching her bra.
“As long as she’ll let me.” Then Eric gazed at his wife. “Well, I guess God has his reasons.”
Lynne nodded, then scooted toward her husband and daughter. “He does. For all things.”
Eric wondered if Lynne meant more than the Canfields; Seth was still receiving shock therapy. Laurie and Stanford had been pleased to travel for Jane’s baptism, and would stop in Minneapolis on their way back to New York. Stanford had hinted about Eric’s next show, but Eric wasn’t sure what paintings he would exhibit. The nudes of Lynne from last year would be greatly admired, but that wasn’t the issue. Eric didn’t want to sell them, or any he had made of her while pregnant. Nor did he want to display those at the Caffey-Miller Institute. He didn’t need to part with any canvases; money wasn’t an issue, but Stanford wanted to keep Eric in the public eye. Eric understood that, but now that he had the freedom to paint at leisure, his subjects were highly personal. Maybe he would permit another show, if more of his works could be included. A retrospective perhaps, then Eric chuckled. He was just thirty-three years old, was that too young for such an event?
“What’re you thinking?” Lynne asked.
He smiled, then gently blew on Jane’s face. She glared at him, then made a soft cry. “Stanford asked when I was gonna have another exhibit. I told him it hasn’t even been a year since the last one, there’s no rush.”
Lynne giggled. “I wondered if he was gonna bring that up. So Eric, when are you going to have another exhibit?”
Her voice was naughty, and he grimaced. They hadn’t yet been intimate, although they had necked quite a bit, and Eric had been the recipient of Lynne’s carnal generosity. Lynne would see Dr. Salters on Wednesday for her six-week check-up. If the doctor gave the all-clear, then that evening Eric would make love to his wife, although not without protection. Eric had purchased condoms last week; maybe the Canfields had quit using birth control, but the Snyders would employ those measures, at least until Jane was several months older.
Not that they wanted to wait too long, but these early days in a baby’s life were so precious, and brief. Eric couldn’t believe the speed of the last five and a half weeks, his daughter was nearly a month and a half old. Then he smiled, as Lynne had started stroking his upper legs. “What’re you doing?” he asked in a husky tone.
“Eric, if you wanna display the first nudes, I’m not bothered. I’ve had a baby,” she laughed. “No more modesty remains.”
A slow smile spread over Eric’s face. “No more modesty, huh? What happened to the woman I married?”
Now Lynne caressed Eric’s face. “Oh honey, that was lifetimes ago. To be honest, some of those paintings, if you wanna sell them, I really don’t care.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“We have to eat,” she smiled. “And baby clothes aren’t cheap. Honey, I’m not even that woman now. I’m a mother, your wife, soon a Lutheran.” Lynne chuckled. “My whole existence is altered, sort of like you.” She kissed him tenderly, then gazed at their baby. “You changed first, then I did. After having your baby, oh Eric, nothing within me is at all the same.”
Lynne took their daughter into her arms. “The only painting I don’t want you to sell is the one of me seated on the stool, with my arms outstretched. You can display it, but every time I see it, I think it might be the moment she came to be.” Lynne set a kiss to Jane’s forehead. Then Lynne looked at Eric. “Wouldn’t that be funny, me sitting in the studio, naked as a jaybird, and there she was, just starting to settle inside me. But it would be so appropriate. I don’t care who sees it, I just want that piece to remain within our family. It’ll embarrass her when she’s older, but Eric, after all we went through and all you’ve suffered, that painting is all sorts of miracles rolled into one.
“It’s like the ones you sent to Seth, those are just as precious. But they aren’t for everyone, only for very special people. But the nudes, oh honey. Keep the ones you want, just save that one for me. Maybe, if we have another baby, you’ll have painted one for that child’s conception, or maybe all our kids will be represented by that single picture. Eric, all that matters to me is you, Jane, God, and our family. We do have a family, Eric; two of them are sleeping just down the hall.”
Eric chuckled, then stood from the bed. “Stay right there, don’t move.”
“What, you’re not gonna paint us now, are you?”
He grabbed his sketch pad, then sat on the far corner of the mattress. “I’ll paint you tomorrow, but the light’s perfect.” Quickly he outlined his wife and daughter, reminding Lynne to keep still.
“But she’s falling asleep Eric. I thought you wanted to keep her awake.”
He glanced at Lynne. “She’s asleep you say?”
“Yes she is.”
Eric put the last touches on the drawing; it was rough, but enough detail was noted that tomorrow he could start painting. He set the tablet and pencil back on his dresser, then gently lifted Jane from her mother’s arms. Eric stepped from the master bedroom into the nursery, laying Jane in her crib. He left that door cracked, but closed his bedroom door all the way. “She won’t wake for hours,” he smiled.
“And what’ll we do in the meantime?” Lynne asked saucily.
“Practice for later this week.” Eric undressed, then got into bed beside his wife. “We have so much time to make up for.”
Lynne giggled, then lay down, as Eric began kissing her. And while they weren’t intimate, they reminded each other of the love waiting to be made.
_______________
Liner Notes
I started this novel in October 2013; at the time, I assumed I’d be penning another short story, the form I had been working in for much of that year. However, at about halfway completed, The Hawk currently stands at over 375,000 words. Never before have I embarked upon such a large project.
Over the last two years, other than poems for NaPoWriMo, I have written nothing else. Quilting has overtaken much of my free time, as has caring for my family; recently I have become a grandmother of two. I have also nursed my father through the end of his life, which fell upon the heels of my first grandchild’s arrival. Now with time to write and revise, I have chosen to share this behemoth in a beta-type manner. Part Four will most likely be released in late autumn, but please bear with this author while grandchildren, fabrics, and a new familial normal take pre
cedence. In the meantime, thank you for joining me on this journey, which is a search for my Father, as well as Eric’s. As this is a novel in progress, comments concerning this tale are welcome and can be sent to annascottgraham at gmail dot com.
About the Author
Anna Scott Graham was born in 1966 in Northern California. A mother and grandmother, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, some hummingbirds, and numerous quilts.
The Hawk: Part Three Page 20
