On Sunday afternoon, a great peace filled Eric’s heart. His stomach was just as full, for Agatha, her sister Belle, and Lynne had prepared a meal that Eric felt would never be beaten within his lifetime. Not even Sam at the top of his game could have out-cooked these women, each with specialties that wove harmoniously as if proclaiming the entry to heaven waited in one New York borough.
Agatha had been in charge of the meats while Belle provided the side dishes. Lynne baked pies, but not only apple, peach, and pumpkin. In that week, she had recreated several favorites from Agatha and Belle’s childhood, pecan and sweet potato, blackberry cobbler and a banana pudding dish that Jane loved. Eric’s trousers were a little tight, even with all the walks around the neighborhood they had taken. He would watch what he ate for the next couple of weeks, yet there was still the visit to Laurie’s Aunt Wilma to consider, not to mention all that Agatha prepared when again the Snyders returned to Manhattan. Eric wondered if the week Agatha spent spoiling his family was indeed an extension of her life working for Stanford. This was supposed to be Agatha’s vacation, however she seemed to have been in her own kitchen for much of it. Yet, she never seemed unhappy; Eric had a bulging sketchbook as proof that Agatha Morris was most content within the confines of domesticity.
Her sister Belle seemed a similar sort, although she also liked being outdoors; the women lived just a few blocks apart, much like Rose Abrams and Wilma Gordon. And like Laurie’s family, it was women in charge in Queens, although Agatha and Belle weren’t widows. Their husbands were quiet men who allowed their wives to cluck and banter, yet Donald Morris and Al Washington provided the necessary strength to their families. At times that power seemed invisible, when it was the sisters to round up their children for various tasks. Then those men would stand at their wives’ sides, their silent yet present personas firmly upholding familial law.
Eric, Lynne, and Jane had been welcomed into Agatha and Donald’s family as if long lost relatives. The Snyders were also now a part of the Washington clan, or maybe Eric had adopted all of them, for a series awaited once he finished Sam’s portrait. Or maybe, Eric considered, sitting in Agatha’s small back yard, Sam’s picture might be postponed. Depending on how Sam was recovering, Eric might start with reducing the girth within his sketchbook, a host of drawings waiting to come to life.
There had been a multitude created while Agatha, Belle, and Lynne cooked together, Lynne sharing her pie crust recipe with two women who claimed it was exactly the same ratio of ingredients used by their late mother. While Jane rested in the arms of Agatha’s eldest daughter, Eric deftly recreated the scene, then another, followed by more sketches. He wouldn’t paint all of them, but after two weeks away from his craft, he had needed this time with pencil and paper. And immersing himself within this new world had given novel spark to the drawings, for Queens was nothing like Manhattan or the Snyders’ life back home. Not even around Sam and Renee’s large families had Eric encountered this slice of the American experience. It hummed with ties to ancient southern days, as if this wasn’t New York State but Mississippi, Georgia, or Alabama. The sense of propriety and manners was very old fashioned, but so inclusive. Eric couldn’t wait to translate that warmth and rich history, feeling blessed that such an opportunity had been cast in his direction.
He had sought permission of all his subjects and no one had turned down the chance to be captured by who Agatha claimed was the finest painter of his generation. To Eric’s surprise, many of her relatives had seen his exhibit last fall, some of the younger family members speaking in a tone of near duress, which had made him smile. Those older had lavished praise upon his paintings, the blue barn garnering much of the attention, but other pictures were noted, especially The Pastor and His Charge. Jane was loved by all and the Snyders’ pastor was also admired; Belle’s mother-in-law had quietly expressed to Eric how that man had suffered a great trial, but seemed to have made his peace with it. Eric had nodded, wondering how much this woman had endured within her life, some of it spent there in Queens, but much had been lived in the Mississippi Delta under great hardship. Eric had heard similar sentiments from the elders of Agatha’s family, although none of them mentioned the nudes, nor had Lynne heard any remarks concerning those paintings. It was as if Eric’s work didn’t tarry from family portraits and landscapes.
What Eric wanted to convey, when he began this series, wasn’t how he’d felt when he had painted the Ahern and Nolan clans. Life in Queens, as he thought of it, would be similar to how he’d initially captured his wife amid her hobbies. Yet how much deeper would these canvases display somewhat ordinary tasks, from kitchen duties to youngsters skipping rope to men smoking cigarettes while chatting about baseball. Eric had heard nothing about Sam’s beloved Red Sox; in Queens all the talk was about the Dodgers and Giants, even if those teams no longer resided in New York.
Eric felt this series would surpass those he painted of Lynne for a couple of reasons; his skills were sharper and there was nothing to hide. He wanted complete openness to be experienced within these paintings, similar to the nudes he had created of his wife, who would appear in only of a couple of the canvases. Agatha had purposely asked Eric to keep Lynne within at least a few pieces, ones that she wanted to display within her home. Eric understood the meaning, which wasn’t merely about who stood within the paintings, but that now the Snyders were members of Agatha’s family. Belle had said much the same, warming Eric’s heart, and making him chuckle; just how many relatives had he, Lynne, and Jane inherited upon this trip east?
They had been made just as welcome in their comparatively brief visit to Brooklyn, Lynne collecting a bevy of addresses for future correspondence. Yet not all would receive the same sorts of greetings; those in Queens would be put on the Snyder’s Christmas card list, while Lynne would send different notes to the Abrams and Gordon women. Did Jews send Hanukkah cards, Eric wondered, as his wife and daughter approached. Jane’s face was smeared with what looked to be remnants of blackberry cobbler and Lynne’s smile was…. Eric’s pulsed raced. The last two mornings Lynne hadn’t felt well, and while the couple had passed it off as travel weariness, Eric thought something far better was the cause for his wife’s fatigue and slight morning nausea. Yet he only grinned back at the two females, standing from his chair as Jane stretched out her arms, calling for him.
He laughed as Lynne handed over the squealing baby, who immediately nuzzled against his shirt, leaving tell-tale traces of cobbler. “Well hello there,” Eric said to his daughter, kissing her face. Then he looked at his wife, Lynne’s eyes almost teary. “Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded emphatically, but didn’t speak. Eric knew if she did, a dam would burst, and his heart pounded, but not in fear. He reached out for her with his free arm and Lynne stepped to his side. If they had been alone, she too would have buried her face against him, but instead she merely placed a kiss on his cheek, then gazed out at those gathered near. In her long stare, Eric realized Lynne felt as he did, that these people were now their family. And from how closely she stood beside him, Eric had to wonder if their family would soon be comprised of another member.
He laughed; how ironic that with Jane it took weeks for the couple to comprehend they were expecting a baby. This time that addition was already known, if only just conceived. How Eric deduced that his wife was pregnant he wasn’t certain, other than Lynne felt the same, her gentle whisper of I love you being passed as if she had just seen Dr. Salters. It was Lynne’s tender tone, her needy grip, and a fragrance in the air that had nothing to do with the sumptuous feast just yards away. The scent was of their home, and of church, a healing aroma that Eric had only encountered a few times in his life. He looked at his wife, who now sported tears along her cheeks as well as a radiant beauty worn when she had carried their daughter. Eric trembled, then laughed out loud. Conventional manners of sharing such news weren’t for them, but then nothing about their lives could be deemed usual.
But turning into a hawk d
idn’t enter Eric’s consciousness; it was due to this family among whom they stood, it was his gift to translate feelings into images, it was in how long they had waited for children, and now, Lynne was again…. Eric kissed her, perhaps more intimately than was proper for such a setting, yet he couldn’t stop, not even with Jane clamoring in his grasp. When Lynne ended the kiss, blushing as she did so, Eric again broke into laughter. When they told their most loved, and now there were plenty to inform, it would be humorous that their second child found its start on the East Coast. Eric had no inkling if Jane would receive a sister or brother, but he was absolutely certain a sibling was coming sometime in early 1964.
Then Eric’s heart skipped a beat; how would they tell the Aherns? For all these newfound relatives, those closest to their hearts would be the hardest with whom to share the news. Perhaps this would drive Renee further away and would it be even more difficult for Sam to pose? Eric closed his eyes, praying for…. He blinked, then gazed at Lynne, her somewhat subdued countenance as if in agreement. She nodded, then gripped his hand, then reached for their daughter. Jane went happily into her mother’s arms, where she leaned her head on Lynne’s shoulder. Eric stroked his wife’s face, then smiled. This news was too good to be clouded with what if’s. Then he chuckled; if Lynne began to suffer from full blown morning sickness in Manhattan, how would they hide it?
“Agatha asked if I was feeling all right.” Lynne’s tone was like an answer to Eric’s unspoken query. Then she smiled. “I said yes, but she frowned at me. I didn’t actually come out and say anything but….”
“But she assumed something.” Eric smiled, shaking his head. “What’d you tell her?”
Lynne giggled. “Well, I said we were trying to add to the family.”
“I think we have.” Eric wanted to place his hand on her belly, but he refrained. He did stroke his wife’s cheek, then caressed Jane’s head. “How do you feel?”
“Okay right now. Well, tired.” Then Lynne laughed. “Oh Eric, do you really think we’re….”
He nodded, then pulled her close. Jane protested the group hug, but her parents ignored her wailing. When Eric released his wife, Jane gave them both a look, which made them laugh out loud. But they kept the reason for their mirth to themselves as Agatha joined them, taking Jane into her arms, consoling the child that she would always be the oldest.
That evening, the Snyders packed up their room; they would return to Manhattan tomorrow by taxi, Agatha with them. She wondered how long that commute would take, but Eric said they were happy to leave as early as was necessary for Agatha to reach work by seven a.m. Agatha had scoffed at that, noting that Laurie could make the coffee. Eric teased that it wouldn’t be as good as what he’d enjoyed all week, rousing Agatha’s smile. Her husband Donald noted that she made two pots every morning, one for them, and one for her employers. No one in Queens spoke of Stanford and Laurie by name, but Eric never felt the couple was talked about behind their backs. Agatha had worked for Stanford for over ten years and was well compensated. The nature of his relationship with Laurie didn’t seem to cause offense among Agatha’s family.
But the men hadn’t been the subject of conversation either; it was as if Agatha never left this neighborhood, yet she worked a long day every Monday through Friday. Eric hadn’t inquired as to how often she received vacations, then he suddenly wished they were going back via the subway. It would make for a prolonged journey, yet it was how Agatha traveled back and forth from this world to one so different. Eric wanted to broach the possibility, but wasn’t sure how. Then he glanced at Lynne, who looked ready for bed. Taking a cab would be far easier on her and he smiled at himself. If she was at all ill at Stanford and Laurie’s, the news would have to be shared, which would cause some awkwardness for Eric’s dealer. But another week of their vacation remained and if how Lynne had felt when first pregnant with Jane was any indicator…. Then Eric sighed. For the first several weeks, Lynne had seemed just fine. By the time Eric realized she was expecting, Lynne was probably seven weeks pregnant. He counted back, finding she was maybe four weeks along; was she carrying twins? For a second he shuddered, then he set it from his mind. Perhaps it was a boy this time, which also gave him pause. Or maybe now that Lynne knew the symptoms, it was harder to ignore them. Eric settled on that, then he counted their suitcases; traveling with a baby wasn’t easy. A vacation with two children might be a long time in coming.
He chuckled, then sat on the edge of the bed. He patted the space beside him and Lynne sat down. “We won’t be back here for a good while,” he said, putting his arm around her.
“Agatha said the same when she asked how I was.” Lynne sighed, then smiled. “Oh Eric, do you really think I’m….” Her voice grew teary and she leaned against him.
“I do, and honey, I love you so much.” He kissed her head, then set his hand on her flat belly. “What a good place to make a baby,” he then whispered.
Lynne stared at him, then giggled. “What, New York?”
“Sure. And who knows where we’ll make number three?”
Now Lynne gaped at her husband. “Oh my goodness.”
“Well, we still don’t know where we made Jane. Now we’ll just have to assume this one was conceived in Manhattan.” Then Eric broke into a belly laugh. “Laurie will never let Stan forget that a child was conceived in their apartment.”
Lynne’s eyes went wide, then she shook her head. “Hopefully he’ll have the good sense to only tease when they’re alone.”
“I agree.” Eric stroked Lynne’s abdomen, then he cleared his throat. “Do you want them to know?”
“I’m not sure. Actually, maybe we can hold off telling them until we get home. Unless, I mean….”
“If you get too sick.” Eric nodded. “That’s probably for the best, or at least the best for Stanford.”
“Uh-huh. But Eric, how’re we gonna tell….”
Lynne’s voice trailed off, then she nestled against her husband’s shoulder. Eric wasn’t sure how they would inform the Aherns, or more rightly Sam. Eric looked forward to telling Marek, Mrs. Kenny, and their friends at St. Matthew’s. He knew Fran and Louie would be happy, but as to their dearest friends? It seemed like rubbing salt in very deep wounds, for both Aherns. “I dunno honey. That one I’m leaving up to God.”
“Me too.” Lynne sighed, then brushed tears from her eyes. “Eric, I do wanna tell Marek, I mean, once we’re home and I’ve seen Dr. Salters. And I know Fran will be pleased for us. But I’m scared, which I realize sounds silly. Maybe we’ll have this baby at the hospital. I don’t think Dr. Salters would wanna deliver without another qualified person present and there just isn’t anyone else I’d trust, I mean, another nurse. Or doctor,” Lynne added.
“Honey, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Eric felt the same, but wouldn’t add to his wife’s slight anxiety. Nor would he consider whether or not he might be among those missing from the list. “Let’s just enjoy our last week of vacation and deal with the rest of it when we get home.”
Lynne nodded, then smiled. “If I thought I’d be feeling fine in the morning, I’d be tempted to ask Agatha if we could take the subway. I’ll probably never get the chance again.”
Now Eric laughed. “I thought the same thing. But I think she’s looking forward to not using that method of transportation. And what you wanna bet that in several hours you might change your mind?”
Lynne chuckled. “Maybe so, well, for me. Agatha seemed pretty excited about not having to use the train. Eric, I know we won’t be coming out here again for a while, but when we do, if they’ll have us, I wanna stay here. I’ve never felt so, so….”
Lynne burst into tears and Eric pulled her close to muffle the sound. Their door was partially closed, and while Eric didn’t think Lynne’s mood would be easily discerned, he wanted to shield her. Even if she wasn’t pregnant, this sort of outburst wouldn’t be unexpected; they had been away from home for three weeks and while both had enjoyed every minute of
the break, it was stressful to go from one place to another. But Lynne wept hard, although not from sorrow. It was due to hormones, Eric smiled, and knowledge; for years and years the Snyders’ world had consisted of only themselves. Very slowly others had been gathered into their tiny circle, but now walls had been torn down, not painfully, but the abundance of love did feel somewhat altering. Eric had never collected so many sketches within such a short time and his right arm had ached from disuse. And to his chagrin, none of those drawings were of one couple who had still avoided his gift. Would Eric get a chance to put Stanford and Laurie onto paper? Maybe he would record their reactions to the Snyders’ good news, if that news was shared. As Lynne pulled away, wiping her face, Eric saw many feelings coursing through her. She appeared so altered and he smiled at himself, how had he missed this that morning or yesterday or…. But a baby’s beginnings occurred far from what even his remarkable eyes could envision. And while this child had probably been conceived at Stanford and Laurie’s, Eric would always carry the memory of this place where that baby had been realized, not by a doctor’s proclamation, but the simple awareness of one human’s love for another. And it wasn’t merely Eric’s affections for his wife; Agatha had brought it to Lynne’s attention before Eric said a single word.
Agatha coughed just beyond the guest room door and Eric smiled. “Come on in.”
Jane’s babbles were detected as Agatha stepped into the room. “Just wanted to give you back your child.” Then Agatha smiled. “I think she needs a new diaper.”
Eric inhaled, then laughed. “Indeed she does. Here, I’ll take her.” He stood, collecting Jane from Agatha’s grasp, then Jane drooped against her father’s shoulder. As soon as he changed her, Eric knew his daughter would be ready for bed. And he wouldn’t need to make any excuses for himself and Lynne to swiftly follow.
“Change her in my room,” Agatha said. “I had Don fix a place for her in there.”
Eric stepped to the door. “Thank you, but are you sure?”
Agatha nodded. “I want a minute with Lynne.”
Eric smiled, then left for the master bedroom, wondering how often Agatha used that firm but loving tone with Stanford Taylor. Probably more than Eric might imagine, he assumed, telling his daughter it was nearly time for sleep.
Chapter 103
The Hawk: Part Six Page 5
