On Monday morning, Renee and Sam dropped off Ann at the Snyders. The Aherns were meeting with their lawyer, a few papers to sign for the pending adoption, which would take effect in two weeks, two days before Christmas. But before they headed to the attorney’s office, they stopped at the hospital where Ritchie was still receiving care. Renee’s brother was healing at a rapid clip, and could be transferred to the rehab facility by the end of the week. He was also sober, which to Renee was as big of a surprise at how fast he was recuperating. Sam chatted with Ritchie as Renee spoke with the nurses, and the couple shared their conversations once in their car. Sam claimed it was as if Ritchie had been given a new lease on life, while Renee mentioned something along the same lines; the nurses had a hard time believing this man had previously been a drunk. Renee still wasn’t sure her brother could maintain that sobriety, but Sam seemed to give Ritchie the benefit of the doubt. Just as Renee was going to question Sam’s attitude, they arrived at the lawyer’s office. The process was straightforward, as Vivian had already signed all the necessary forms. No other relatives could challenge the Aherns’ request to make Paul and Ann Hamilton their children. In fourteen days, those orphans would legally be Sam and Renee’s offspring.
On the drive back to Lynne’s, Sam held many thoughts, but kept quiet as Renee noted how exciting it was, and what good timing. Her tone was giddy, then she grew hushed. Sam grasped her hand. “Honey, what?”
She sighed. “You don’t think the timing is bad, do you?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, just that it’s been….”
At the end of the week, Eric would have been out in the wild for one month. Sam couldn’t get that from his mind, regardless of what he was doing, be it caring for the kids, cooking, or counseling vets. He did very little of that now, but even when speaking with Ritchie all Sam could think was what if it had been Eric in that bed? Something had happened to him, although none of them had stated what was obvious. Sam squeezed Renee’s hand, then he slowed for a yellow light. Then he glanced at his wife, a few tears along her cheeks. “Honey, he’d have wanted us to do this, of that I have no doubt. Maybe it seems a little strange, but we’re the only ones to see it that way.”
Renee nodded, for that was true. Their families were thrilled for them, even the Nolans tackling Ritchie’s accident. Then Sam cleared his throat, for an issue he needed to broach. The light turned green and Sam hit the accelerator. “Renee, when Ritchie’s out of the hospital, I wanna give him and Brenda the Bel Air.”
“You wanna what?”
Sam stifled a chuckle for the shock in Renee’s voice. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. They can use it and we’ll still have two vehicles.”
“But why not give them the old car? Sam, are you sure you’ve thought about this?”
He nodded. “I have, and I’ll tell you why.” Sam took a breath, then shared what had been weighing on him over the last…. He sighed often as he spoke, for it wasn’t just Eric’s extended absence or President Kennedy’s assassination. It was about giving Ritchie the benefit of the doubt, which Sam had not done for Lynne years ago, nor was Stanford doing it now for…. Sam stumbled over Laurie’s name, but he continued, noting how maybe he’d be proven wrong, but it was better to err on the side of forgiveness than to assume the worst. Sam coughed as he said that, for every day Eric remained missing made Sam wonder if that man could possibly get home. He wanted to believe Eric would return, and while he’d never say anything to Lynne, doubts were creeping into Sam’s head. He didn’t allude to that with Renee, but his tone was that of a man torn by wishing to hope while facing reality. Sam would go to mass tomorrow, lighting a candle for Eric. Maybe he would do that every day until Eric returned.
Renee mumbled her assent, although Sam thought she was crying. As he reached the Snyders’ road, Sam pulled over. Renee was in tears and he leaned over, taking her in his arms. “Honey, we have so much and your brother and Brenda….” Sam didn’t know how that couple would pay for Ritchie’s medical bills. If they needed help, Sam was ready to offer assistance, and Lynne had said the same. “The old car runs fine and we’ve got the Impala. It’s just a car Renee, but they could use it. No use taking up space in front of Lynne and Eric’s house, although I know Laurie likes tooling around in it.” Sam wore a small grin, then he kissed Renee’s cheek. “You can ask Brenda, see what she says. I can’t imagine they’d look a gift horse in the mouth and….”
“Samuel Ahern.” Renee shook her head, then caressed his cheek. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, my goodness.” She giggled, wiping tears from her face. “What’ll you think of next?”
He rolled his eyes, then grinned. “Just that in two weeks Paul and Ann will have our last name, what could be better for Christmas than that?”
Renee nodded, then her tears restarted. Sam felt sheepish, then pulled her close again. He stared ahead, seeing their old car in the distance. Only one thing would be better than what Sam had considered, but that was out of his hands. He prayed for Eric’s eventual homecoming, whispering to his trembling wife that it was going to be okay.
In Manhattan, Agatha returned from shopping, then ate a late lunch. She missed Laurie; occasionally he would join her for the noon meal. The few weeks he had been back seemed hard to recall; it was if Laurie had never come home, which made her teary. How many years had she been in Stanford’s employment, taking it for granted that this couple would always be together. She didn’t ponder where Eric was, only that Laurie was far away from where he should be.
After lunch she wandered around the apartment, but there was nothing to clean. She stopped in the library, admiring the figurines. How funny that Seth had chosen to go to Israel, but it was probably for the best. She left that room, then headed across the hall, stepping into the guest room. She turned on the light, but nothing was amiss. She sighed, then went to leave. As she did, she saw the sketch on the dresser.
She picked it up, feeling a chill. But the warmth from Eric’s vision traveled through the image, winding its way under Agatha’s skin. Then she thought of another drawing, of herself, Belle, and Lynne. Indeed that woman had been expecting, but Eric hadn’t realized it consciously. Agatha giggled, unable to hide the joy she’d felt when asking Lynne how she was feeling. Now she was probably very tired of being pregnant, but that was typical. Good that Laurie was there lending a hand.
Yet, why wasn’t he here? Not that anyone could be two places at once, but…. Agatha placed the sketch back on the dresser, then turned off the light. That morning Stanford had told her she needn’t stay once she had finished the shopping, for he was dining out with his father that evening. While Don might appreciate her home early, Agatha felt compelled to remain in Manhattan for a few more hours. She had something to tell her boss and if he fired her afterwards, at least she had spoken her mind.
Stanford was surprised by Agatha’s presence; he was also pleased, but kept that to himself as he thumbed through the mail. No letters from Lynne had arrived, which also maintained the art dealer’s good mood. When Eric returned, Stanford expected to hear of it via the telephone, although he wasn’t certain who would make that call. Stanford would prefer Lynne, Sam Ahern even. But Sam wouldn’t call unless Lynne wasn’t well enough to speak, and that would only be the case if the baby had arrived or…. Stanford grimaced, then looked at Agatha, who was staring at him from across the kitchen. “Yes?” he said, forcing an authoritative tone.
“I have a question to ask you, that’s why I’m still here.”
“Well, ask.” He sighed inwardly, having hoped she had stayed merely to make small talk. Yet Agatha wasn’t that sort. He glanced at her, finding she had crossed her arms over her chest, a pose so unlike the one Eric had drawn of her in that sketch. Stanford hadn’t seen it since the day he’d left it in the guest room, but assumed he would never forget the image regardless if he ever laid eyes on it again.
Agatha hummed for a moment, then she cleared her throat. “Do you not
love Laurie anymore?”
Stanford trembled at her words, then coughed hard for her plaintive tone. “What did you just ask me?” he sputtered.
“You heard me. Now just answer the question. Do you not love….”
“How dare you ask something so, so….” He nearly stomped his foot, yet gazing at her, he also felt a great weight attached to her query. If he lied, he might as well give her two weeks’ notice, although it would be more like she was firing him. They stared at each other, then he blinked. “What business is my personal life to you?”
“Oh for goodness sake!” Agatha threw up her hands, then placed them on her hips. “Do you love him or not?”
“I, I, I….” He shook his head. “I am not going to speak about this with you or anyone else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to change for dinner.”
He turned around, but his legs wobbled. All he had to do was reach the dining room, then if he had to crawl to his room, at least he could do it behind that closed kitchen door. As he took one shaky step, tears could be discerned. He shut his eyes, but that didn’t mask a sound he wasn’t sure if he had ever heard before. Was she crying, and did he dare investigate?
One awkward sniffle gave him pause, then he couldn’t help himself, facing the strongest woman he knew. Lynne Snyder was another, but she had never confronted the obstacles that Agatha met daily, then rose above. Stanford couldn’t bear to hurt her, yet her question had been intrusive. Or had it, he mused, as he approached her, then gave her his handkerchief, which she took, then used to dab at her eyes.
Then she met his, and the sorrow etched deeply along her brow and around those brown eyes took his breath. It was if someone had died, and he gasped, then shook his head. “Agatha, really, it’ll be….”
“Don’t tell me it’s gonna be all right, because until he’s here giving you hell, it’s not gonna be anywhere near fine.” Her voice was tight and he had never heard her swear. Then she continued. “He still loves you, didn’t wanna go, although he’s being put to good use. But Stanford, you have to let him back in. In this house and inside….” Gently she placed her palm over Stanford’s heart. Her touch lasted for seconds, yet the sensation was so intense that Stanford expected to feel it resonate for…. He wasn’t sure, although for the first time since that awful argument in the library Stanford’s heart didn’t throb.
The quiet lingered as Agatha shook her head, again folding her arms over her chest as if she was cold. Then Stanford cleared his throat. “He said things that couldn’t possibly be true. How am I supposed to permit that?”
“Has he ever lied to you, ever given you any reason to doubt him, has he?”
Against his will, Stanford shook his head. “But I simply can’t forget this, this incident.” He sighed, then tapped his foot. “Unless he can apologize….”
Now Agatha caressed Stanford’s cheek. “As long as I’ve known Laurie, all I’ve ever seen is how devoted he is to you. He loves you unreservedly, you know he does. Now maybe he said something that defies belief. But can you stand there and tell me that he said those things to purposely hurt you? Because I just can’t believe he’d ever wanna hurt you.”
You have no idea how I’ve tried to protect you… Those words wafted through Stanford’s mind alongside the ragged tone Laurie had used during much of that argument. He’d claimed to be tired, but exhaustion hadn’t been at the root of Laurie’s altered demeanor. Then Stanford shivered. Laurie had changed, and if his assertion was taken as fact, someone else had as well. If Stanford shared that allegation, Agatha would probably roll her eyes, then pat Stanford’s shoulder, offering her regrets. Yet Stanford couldn’t relate that insane rubbish, he had to….
“Stanford, if I know anything in my life, it’s that Laurie loves you. Now, I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say this; you think living is what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks, well it’s not. What you’ve been doing is pretending. And I’ll also say this; if that’s truly what you wanna do, all right. You’re free, white, and well over twenty-one. So’s Laurie. Maybe you’ll find someone else, who knows? Maybe he will too. But neither of you’ll be happy. You’ll regret this for as long as you live. Trust isn’t built in a day, Stanford, it takes years to accrue. Anything else is just empty promises. Has he ever given you any reason to not trust him, doesn’t all of that count for something, or are you really just gonna push him out the door?”
Sam didn’t throw his wife to the street… If Stanford called Sam Ahern, would he corroborate Laurie’s statement? Did Stanford have enough guts to even ask such a nonsensical…. Then his guts rumbled, for even thinking about this made him ill. “Agatha, I do not wish to speak about this. Now as I said, if you’ll excuse me….”
Yet he couldn’t move, for the fear in her eyes pierced him. He hadn’t answered her question, not that she required his verbal reply. But did Stanford still love Laurie, would he, God forbid, miss him if perhaps Laurie moved on? Would Laurie, could he…. Stanford sighed, then shook his head. “What he said was something I can’t reconcile. How am I supposed to move past that?”
“Can you just trust him, can you do that?” she said softly.
“I, I don’t know.”
She nodded, then grasped his hand. “I trusted you.”
He stared at her, momentarily confused. Then he sighed, recalling their first interview. He told her his roommate was a man and that they were…. Together was how he had phrased it. Stanford had decided to be honest with the prospective candidates, all of them Negros whom he most likely would never see again in his life. Agatha had been first on the list, and while she hadn’t been the only one unruffled by his statement, she’d been his preferred choice from the moment she entered this apartment. Yet, was the level of trust comparable, for what Laurie had said was completely unacceptable. Although maybe to those women what Stanford had mentioned was equally unbelievable.
Agatha released his hand, then looked him in the eye. “When you told me, I thought, well, he seems to know his own mind. And he’s honest, God help him. God help you both,” she smirked. “But he has all these years you two’ve been together. I know it hasn’t been easy, but you stayed loyal to one another, you trusted each other. Some of my kids don’t have it as good as you and Laurie, not sure why that is.” She shook her head. “But now, now….” Her lips trembled. “The last thing I want is for you to regret this. It’s not just Laurie I’m thinking about.” Agatha blinked away tears. “It’s hard Stanford, lord don’t I know it. But trust is the foundation of what you two share. Love, yes,” she smiled. “But for you two especially. He trusts you and you need to reciprocate. If you don’t….” Again she placed her palm over his heart, but this time she left her hand in the center of his chest. “You’ll wither into an old solitary man. That’s the last thing I want for you Stanford, the last thing in this world.”
He knew it was Agatha standing in front of him, but in those moments, his mother spoke through her. Stanford forced himself to remain standing, yet all he wanted was to collapse in Agatha’s arms. She nodded as if aware, then removed her hand. The emptiness returned, yet a faint echo beat from far within him, a pulse warm and…. It was the bliss of Laurie’s laughter, or how lovingly he whispered Stanford’s name. It was the possibility of…. Could he, was it even feasible…. Stanford wasn’t sure how he felt, other than incapable of having dinner with his father. Yet hunger gripped him, and his stomach rumbled as if to second that notion. “Why don’t you call Michael, tell him you’ll meet him tomorrow night. I’ll whip up some dinner and….”
Stanford nodded, then stepped away. Reaching the kitchen door, he stopped. Turning around, he saw Agatha opening the refrigerator. From the corner of his eye, he could make out Laurie, seated at the table, reading a book. Stanford blinked, finding Agatha at the stove, her gentle hum drifting through the room. Laurie wasn’t there, although Stanford would have sworn he was present. Stanford shook his head, then walked to the library, calling his father, rescheduling for tomorrow
night.
Chapter 171
The Hawk: Part Nine Page 14
