The first two nights Jane slept in her new bed held little rest for a mother and uncle, but not due to a toddler’s distress. By the third night, the adults were thoroughly exhausted, and if Jane had decided to raise a fuss, they might not have heard her. Yet Jane slumbered with ease, and by the end of the first week of December, it was as if Lynne lived with a different little girl.
At nearly twenty-one months old, Jane was stringing together two and three words, eating with a fork and spoon, and had started using her potty chair as more than a spare seat. Jane preferred walking everywhere, although when she was tired, Laurie was permitted to carry her up the stairs. Lynne allowed Laurie that task, for she was eight months along and feeling every day of her confinement. She still did the cooking, although both she and Laurie joked how pleasant it would be if Agatha decided to take an impromptu vacation west. Yet they knew how vital was Agatha’s current station; she was Stanford’s only connection to this somewhat inexplicable world.
Lynne still wrote Stanford a weekly note, slipping in a photo of Jane. Did he notice the changes Lynne couldn’t ignore, how Jane’s curls were turning into large waves as hair settled along the middle of her back. That her once chubby arms and legs had grown muscular as she tried to keep up with Helene and Ann. That her blue eyes were turning a tiny bit gray, or maybe only Lynne saw that alteration. Sometimes when she gazed at her daughter, Lynne felt as if she was peering at her husband, or maybe she missed Eric so much she was tricking herself. But Lynne didn’t speak of that, for she wasn’t the only one separated from her beloved. And while Stanford had Agatha with whom to talk if he chose, both Lynne and Laurie knew that man would keep his feelings private. Laurie had recently chatted with Agatha, but she only reported that Stan was working long hours, then spending his evenings with his father. Agatha was worried about him, but other than prayer, her hands were tied.
On Friday, the Snyder-Abrams clan met with most of the Aherns for morning mass. Jane and Ann stood quietly, coloring books and crayons strewn across the pew, while their parents and uncle absorbed the Advent readings. All six trooped to the altar, Laurie receiving a blessing right after Father Markham blessed Jane and Ann. Lynne relished taking communion, gripping Renee’s hand as they returned to their seats. After Father Markham dismissed them, Lynne didn’t immediately stand, although her back ached. She admired her surroundings, wondering when Eric came home, might they attend morning mass together.
“You okay?” Renee asked softly.
Lynne nodded, then she sighed. “I always feel at home here. Wonder what that means.”
Renee squeezed Lynne’s hand, then began gathering crayons. “Just that regardless of the place, your heart’s aware of what matters most.”
“That must be it.” Lynne went to her feet, then laid her palms along the middle of her back. Sam and Laurie were waiting in the aisle, each with a girl in his grasp. Lynne smiled at them, Sam with Jane while Laurie held Ann. He was telling her he had a surprise for her and Paul, which would start next week. Laurie had already spoken to Sam and Renee about celebrating Hanukkah with the children; Marek had found a menorah at St. Matthew’s, and while no one could imagine what it had been used for, Laurie felt it was auspicious. The first candle would be lit next Wednesday after an early supper shared by those with whom Lynne called family. Then she had a droll giggle, a Lutheran considering a Jewish holiday within a Catholic church.
Perhaps she would ask Father Markham if he would like to join them. He had given her a warm smile as the bread and wine was shared, then offered blessings in an equally sincere tone, even if Ann was the only one who would eventually join this church. Yet Jane would grow up with this faith as part of her spiritual heritage, then Lynne glanced across the room, flickering candles catching her eye. She looked forward to lighting those Marek had found, tucked alongside the menorah in a closet at St. Matthew’s like they had been waiting for this particular Hanukkah. But their meaning wasn’t the same as those lit at St. Anne’s. Lynne’s heart ached, but she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then she gazed at Sam. “I’ll be right back.”
He nodded, adjusting Jane in his arms. Then Lynne caught Laurie’s eyes. “Wanna light a candle with me?”
“Uh sure.” He smiled at Ann. “Shall we light some candles together?”
“What for?” she asked.
“For those we love who’re far away, like Jane’s daddy and Laurie’s….” Lynne hesitated for only seconds. “Other half.”
Laurie smiled, but Ann looked confused. “Who’s that?” she asked Laurie.
“Stanford,” Laurie said.
“Oh, okay.” Ann smiled.
Renee’s soft giggle followed a trio heading across the church. A few older ladies were praying as Lynne found two tea lights. She lit them, saying a brief prayer for Eric and Stanford. Then she grasped Laurie’s free hand, placing her other hand where the baby kicked from within.
“Are you all right?” Laurie said quietly.
“It’s funny how little things make it easier. I didn’t grow up with any religious symbolism, but I find such comfort in….” She blinked away a few stray tears. “They’re just candles, yet….”
“All together there’s a lovely glow in this part of the church.” He chuckled softly. “Shall we come again on Monday?”
Lynne stared at him. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“As long as Father Markham puts up with me.” Now Laurie laughed. “I just won’t tell my mother.”
Lynne nodded, then leaned against Laurie. Ann pointed to the flickering lights, then called for her mother as Sam, Renee, and Jane joined them.
That afternoon Lynne wrote Christmas cards while Laurie spoke to Rose. Jane napped during those activities, then she and Laurie walked in the garden while Lynne cooked dinner. The weather was relatively mild, although cold temperatures were forecast for next week. Laurie didn’t miss ice and snow, but other longings stirred within his heart. Rose had asked when he was coming home and he had finally admitted he had no idea, also telling her that he would be celebrating Hanukkah. She had given him her recipe for latkes, but hadn’t asked about his separation from Stanford. Not that Laurie had wished to speak about it, but he had been ready with a reply. Yet now, as he put Jane into her tall seat, Laurie was grateful for his mother’s discretion. Was Stan spending that evening again at Michael’s, or was Laurie’s other half alone in the apartment?
Was Stanford still Laurie’s…. Laurie sighed, then sat next to Jane. Her cheeks were pink, as they had explored as much of the backyard as Laurie felt was safe. He’d avoided the studio, but no longer was Sam’s unfinished portrait on display. At Lynne’s request Laurie had put all the canvases into the storage building. Other than the sofa, stool, and a few tables, the studio now looked abandoned.
Laurie gazed at Lynne, who wore an apron over her clothes. He smiled, for she appeared enormous; had she been this large with Jane? Then Laurie sighed; for as sure as he felt about Eric’s return, no such certainties existed when it came to where Laurie would go once that man stood in this house. Laurie clasped his hands on the table, then shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. Then he gazed at Jane, who stared at him. “I wonder what’ll happen,” he said absently. Then he inwardly chided himself. “My goodness, but I’m getting old.”
“Are you now?” Lynne brought two plates to the table, setting one near Laurie, the other in front of Jane. Then Lynne sat at the table, her own dinner in hand. She took a bite, then patted Laurie’s shoulder. “None of us are getting any younger.”
“No, I suppose not.” He took a bite, then chewed thoughtfully. Then he gazed at Lynne. “This’s delicious.”
“Thank you. Maybe you should call him tonight.”
“He’s probably at Michael’s.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Lynne wiped her mouth with a napkin, then gripped Laurie’s hand. “If nothing else, I’ll call him this weekend. Haven’t heard from him about the exhibit lately. He hasn’t written
me since….” She sighed. “The assassination.” Lynne released Laurie’s hand. “I was giving him this week, sort of how Marek is still waiting to hear from Klaudia.” Then Lynne smiled. “We’re a funny threesome, all pining for those we love.”
Now Laurie chuckled. “I sort of hope I’m still here when she visits.” Then he sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“To be honest, I hope you are too. Even if Eric comes home tomorrow….” Lynne again gripped Laurie’s hand. “Stanford may very well not wanna accept the truth. Besides, two kids would be greatly disappointed if suddenly you weren’t here for next week.” Lynne giggled. “Have you decided how you’re gonna explain Hanukkah?”
“Not yet. My mother sure thought it was interesting though.” Laurie had a wry chuckle. “It sounds like Seth’s doing well in Tel Aviv; Aunt Wilma got a letter from him. She’s taking his decision to go over there better than Mom is.”
“Maybe it’s easier for Wilma than for your mother.”
“Oh, I know it is. For how long did she….” Laurie paused, then he gazed at Lynne. “Aunt Wilma’s a lot like you, living like someone she loved so much was always just beyond where she could reach him.”
Immediately Laurie regretted his words, but Lynne squeezed his hand again. “You’re right,” she said, tipping his head to where their gazes met. She smiled, then she looked at Jane. “But I never thought I’d have his baby, two of them even.” She patted her belly, then released Laurie’s hand. “I can’t begin to fathom all that’s happened, maybe that makes it easier for me to accept faith. There’s no rational explanation, not for any of this. It’s just….” She smiled. “A miracle, more than a few of them. But who believes in miracles these days?”
Her tone was teasing, making him laugh. “Indeed. I’ll try Stan at home and if he doesn’t answer….”
“Then I’ll try him tomorrow. And we’ll just keep trying until one of us gets through.”
Laurie nodded, taking a deep breath. Jane giggled, making Lynne chuckle. Laurie relished their mirth, praying for others to know this joy.
By Saturday night neither Laurie nor Lynne had reached Stanford, but as Sunday dawned in Norway, Klaudia had started to believe she might travel to America in the coming year. Marek’s written invitation had finally arrived, and her affirmative reply had been sent. Sigrun hadn’t verbally said I told you so, but in so many other words that sentiment had gently been placed upon Klaudia’s kitchen table, where the women casually spoke about the pastor’s request as though weekly Klaudia received such offers. Klaudia had appreciated Sigrun’s relatively subtle reaction, although once an actual date was set, Klaudia expected Sigrun’s excitement would increase forthwith.
The women had discussed how Klaudia would travel; Klaudia didn’t care, as Marek had said he would pick up her fare. Klaudia did wonder where she would stay, not overly keen on sleeping at the church, nor was she interested in staying with that painter and his family. She had enough vacation time for a ten-day trip, twice as long as she was away from home when she visited her son. She had no worries that something might happen to him while she was gone, and Sigrun would collect Klaudia’s mail. But ten days away from her routine, even with its usual disruptions, would be the longest stretch since…. Klaudia sat in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. For over a decade the mundane had ruled, for other than visiting her son, Klaudia never went anywhere outside of the city. There had been nothing to interest her, she sighed, finishing what was in her cup. But now an adventure beckoned.
In writing back to Marek, Klaudia had revealed some of her excitement; she looked forward to a break in the frigid weather, and while she was terrified of using her English, she couldn’t wait to hear Marek speak that language. Would he sound differently, or would it be as if he had adopted a slightly altered dialect? Might he call her on Christmas, she had also wondered, but not put within her reply. She couldn’t deny a hopeful sense, but didn’t wish to raise those expectations too far.
Sigrun had asked if she would buy some new clothes, attire more weather-appropriate, Sigrun had then quickly added. Klaudia had sniffed at that, then later considered some new trousers might be useful, maybe a pair of boots too. She rarely spent money on her wardrobe, for there had been no one to impress. Then she had chided herself; did she wish to entice Marek? He was a minister, after all. Then she had found herself blushing; they were adults, and why else did he want her to travel all that way if not to…. If he asked, she wouldn’t hesitate, and to hell with any of his uptight parishioners. Klaudia had laughed at that thought, and Sigrun had chuckled alongside her. Now reconsidering such a notion, Klaudia couldn’t dismiss what might occur if they did sleep together. It wasn’t another child she feared, only what making love with Marek might do to her heart.
As she toyed with the handle of her mug, she could picture him sitting across from her like this was his church kitchen, and they were sharing coffee on the morning after. His smile was…. She couldn’t imagine how he might seem, for her recollections were from their youth. All she had to go on was that painting, his beard making him look much older, also causing him to appear vulnerable, or maybe that was due to the baby in his arms. Her heart started to pound, and she shut her eyes, but that image was burned onto her brain, how calm was the infant, how peaceful Marek seemed. Then Klaudia shook her head, opening her eyes. If they slept together, she would take precautions. Perhaps she would be so bold as to pack rubbers. Then she giggled, which turned into laughter. If Sigrun happened to remark upon such an idea, Klaudia would act as if she hadn’t given it a single thought.
But what if Marek did ask her? He was a pastor, yes, but also a man, and…. After Gunnar’s death, Klaudia had enjoyed a few flings, but none had turned into anything serious, not that the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Klaudia was single for a reason, and while she might use her son as the excuse, it wasn’t his fault that she never remarried. Had she subconsciously been assuming one day a figure from her past might reappear? She pondered that while getting up for more coffee. Then she stared out the kitchen window, the street covered with a fresh layer of snow. Thankfully it was Sunday, no need to leave the house. Tomorrow the street would be cleared, at least enough for the buses to run. She smiled, having forgotten what she’d been considering. This was her life, in a country where winter lasted forever.
As she returned to the table, she glanced at the seat across, then trembled. A man’s outlines hovered in that chair, as though Marek Jagucki was trying to get her attention. “I said I’d come,” she spoke aloud. “What more do you want from me?”
The figure blinked, then vanished. Klaudia set the cup on the table, then retrieved a cigarette. She lit it, taking a long drag. Still holding the smoke, she sat down, setting the cigarette between her lips, again inhaling deeply. As she exhaled, the apparition seemed to flicker, then it faded away. Klaudia shook her head, then gripped her mug. She sipped slowly, for the brew was still hot. But the idea of being intimate with Marek made her shiver. Better that she stay with the painter’s family than be close to someone so dangerous.
Chapter 170
The Hawk: Part Nine Page 13
