For two weeks, the Aherns and Snyders didn’t cross paths. Lynne and Eric were either at the mercy of a suddenly unhappy baby, or attending St. Matthew’s with that rather colicky infant who seemed to attract admirers even while screaming at the top of her lungs. Jane’s pediatrician told them perhaps it was something Lynne had introduced to her diet or possibly the weather, which had grown unseasonably warm in early June. Lynne still nursed Jane, which hadn’t become problematic except for when Jane pulled away in tears. Eric’s work suffered as well, for he was stuck in the house, contractors already building the new storage facility. It was no fun painting a whiny baby and her exhausted mother, and Eric gave up trying to capture that twosome. But Lynne didn’t complain to Renee over the phone, for other mothers were in far worse straits and at least Eric was around to spell Lynne when Jane grew irritable.
In those two weeks, Eric had spoken to Pastor Jagucki about a local exhibit, pleasing the cleric, who offered the church’s social room. Eric declined, only because some of the paintings he wanted to show were nudes, and while Marek smiled, both men agreed the rest of the congregation might not be so accommodating. Eric had spoken to the head librarian about using their large conference room and Marek agreed that would be a better location. Eric wanted the brief show to occur after his and Lynne’s baptisms, slated for mid-July. The Snyders had decided to set that date, what with Laurie’s latest news about Seth’s improving health. That information was buffeted against Stanford’s letters concerning his mother, who had been moved to a nursing home on Long Island. Constance’s decline was keeping Michael from traveling west, yet the care facility wasn’t too far from the couple’s Manhattan apartment. Stanford wasn’t sure, however, if perhaps more distance might not be a bad thing. It had worked for Seth and Stanford’s mother wasn’t getting any better. But there was little Eric could have done for Constance and he felt no impending departure was necessary for Seth. The Snyders would be baptized on Sunday, July fifteenth, but the New Yorkers would send their regards via post.
Their personal congratulations would arrive in August when Eric’s local show was slated to open. Stanford had also been apprised of this idea and while he clucked about what was the purpose, there was little he could say to deter Eric from this exhibit. He’d made Eric swear that he wouldn’t sell any paintings, which had made Eric laugh out loud. And after the first night, Stanford was allowed to announce the show to the press. Eric didn’t want a horde of reporters, other than those in town, covering this collection of his work. He wanted the first few nights strictly for those with whom he interacted, which included the friends he and Lynne were making at St. Matthew’s. And lately those people consisted of parents who fully appreciated the clamor proffered by one small baby.
As Eric laid Jane in her crib, he sighed softly to himself. She had howled for most of the morning no matter in what position they held her or if she was set at Lynne’s bosom. Eric tiptoed from the room, closing the door most of the way. He went downstairs, finding Lynne in the kitchen, rolling out pie crust. He smiled at her, then sat at the table. “I wonder how long she’ll sleep.”
“Hours, I hope.” Lynne released a deep breath. “I wanna think this’s just an aberration. She had that growth spurt, maybe this’s the consequence.”
“Maybe.” He brushed crumbs from the table, then stood, stepping into the living room. His Bible waited on the coffee table; Lynne had chosen it after Jane’s baptism, having Eric’s name embossed in the lower left corner. They each had one now, but Eric had inscribed their daughter’s whole name in Lynne’s, right after Jane’s birth. That was their family Bible, he still considered. This one was for another purpose.
Eric read this book nightly, well, most nights up until the last two weeks when Jane had started throwing fits. Marek had written out daily readings which Eric followed not to glean spiritual truths, but to begin a study of Biblical teachings, easing himself into the ritual of Christian worship. Like Lynne, Eric had found comfort in the liturgy at St. Anne’s, and a similar style at St. Matthew’s bound Eric to this form of reverence, cadences and canticles and prayers that spoke for him in his relative infancy of this new journey. He carried the Bible into the kitchen. Lynne was filling the prepared pie tin and he sat at the table, finding her smile on him. “Yes?” he asked.
“Going to do some light reading?” she teased.
“I was just thinking that I’m a lot like our daughter right now.”
“And how’s that?”
“Well, when it comes to faith, I’m just as uncertain, without the howling.”
Lynne reached for the strips of pie dough, then stared at her husband. “Uncertain about what?”
“About a lot of things. It’s funny, I mean, I believe there is a God in three persons, which in itself is pretty unbelievable.” He chuckled, then gently patted the top of the Bible. “But this book’s full of people and events and most of it I’m completely ignorant of. Just like Jane. She knows us, Sam and Renee, I think she’s even getting to know Marek, but the rest of it confounds her, and right now her whole little world is upended.”
Lynne nodded, fashioning the lattice top for the pie. Eric thumbed through the gilt-edged pages, only three bookmarks causing him to pause. One was set in Proverbs, another in 1 John, and the third in Matthew, the current Old Testament, Epistle, and Gospel readings. Eric read them with the eye of a pupil, but a more discerning spirit was emerging, or it had been until Jane’s recent change of mood. Now Eric read while yawning, not totally sure of what he’d just digested. But some things were being tucked away, for in the mornings when Eric spent quiet minutes in prayer, the little seeds sown from earlier days felt to be making their way from his heart outwards. His last few paintings were examples of a sort. Lynne and Jane were depicted in the garden among flowers and berry vines, although in the most recent, Jane’s face was a scowl and Lynne’s eyes were tired. But the way Eric had felt while painting them was different. He couldn’t accurately describe it, but he hoped those canvases were set by the August show. Parenthood wasn’t always bliss, but it was his calling, like art and faith.
Yet, Eric didn’t feel his faith had been tested, not in the way Lynne’s had, back in December. He didn’t consider Jane’s recent tirades as a test, well, maybe they were a small trial. Then he smiled as Lynne put the pie in the oven, setting the timer. It was harder on Lynne, when Jane fought nursing. Lynne hadn’t mentioned trying a bottle, although Eric wouldn’t argue. Sometimes Jane fussed so much when trying to feed that Lynne wept from the pain of aching breasts. Then Jane would quiet down and get to work. Lynne hadn’t been eating anything new; Jane just needed to expend this grief and hopefully return to the chirpy infant of before.
Before…. Eric pondered that word as his wife joined him at the table. He grasped her hand, then leaned close, kissing her. Then he chuckled. “You taste like flour.”
“Better than spit-up,” she said, brushing her face along her shoulder.
“Well yeah, there is that.” Eric stroked her cheek. “I was just thinking about….” He sighed, so many ideas, perhaps too many to tell her. Her gentle nod seemed to indicate she understood.
“Eric, I’m gonna lay down. Can you keep an eye on the pie?”
“Sure. If she wakes….”
“If she does, I’ll hear her. I just can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”
Lynne stood, then smiled. This was the less stellar side of parenthood, but still part and parcel of the whole. As she gripped his hand, then released it, Eric nodded, watching her leave the kitchen. Then he stared at his Bible, thinking about the Canfields. Jane was only one baby; how would Fran handle two more? Eric sighed, then prayed for his wife and child to rest, and for another mother to do the same.
By the end of June, Eric and Lynne had started to worry more about Sam and Renee than Fran and Louie; several times Eric had called the Aherns, but no one answered. Eric had stopped in, often catching Sam just as he was leaving either for the VA hospital or for the Ca
nfields, but the men spoke little. Sam and Renee knew the date of Eric and Lynne’s baptisms and Sam assured Eric they would be at St. Matthew’s on that Sunday morning. Lynne wasn’t any more successful in reaching Renee, who seemed to be at the mercy of work. When Jane wasn’t crying, the Snyders discussed their friends’ plights, but more worrisome to the new parents was the distance perceived not between the two couples, but between the Aherns.
While Eric and Lynne chalked it up to the obvious issues, neither knew the depth of discord which had built between that twosome since Renee’s comment at the end of May. For nearly a month, Sam and Renee had treated each other with the same eerie coldness that had befallen them right after Renee told Sam that Eric turned into a hawk. Both realized it, but this time, the basis for their split was something less ethereal, and more damaging. Yet, unlike how forced conversation had emerged two years before, Sam didn’t know how to breach the chasm stirred by Renee’s admission, nor could he bring himself to acknowledge what else he wanted; Sam Ahern wanted a family.
The last four weeks spent in the midst of the Canfield clan had altered Sam’s heart, steeped in the triumphs and small tragedies of seven kids who Sam knew fairly well. Sally and Will were his godchildren, but the rest had notched distinctive chinks in an armor that Sam had erected upon his return from Korea. Between Jane’s birth and the nearly daily interaction with Fran’s offspring, Sam’s heart was back to that wide, unprotected state right after he had married Renee. Yet, when he was around his wife, an impenetrable shield hampered that muscle, causing Sam deep consternation. Never had he felt his marriage was in trouble, except for right when he came home, but that was more of Sam wanting to free Renee from a life of…. He thought about it when driving from the Canfields’, that solid wall building with every mile passed. By the time he reached home, whether Renee was there or not, he felt like a stone plodding into the house, not wishing to cook, clean, or do anything but brood, exactly how he’d felt until the day Renee had slapped his face.
But now Sam didn’t let her get anywhere close to him. Not that they slept in separate beds, but a wide gulf had grown in the center of their double mattress. They hadn’t made love in…. Well, not that they could just make love, but he hadn’t approached her since coming home from the Snyders that day, a day that to Sam had become a demarcation. He hadn’t seen Jane since then, or Lynne, only Eric, and merely for moments, reminding Sam about another baptism, but how in the world would Sam and Renee attend that service together? Would he sit on one side of the church, she on the other? Sam sighed, driving home from Fran’s, hoping that Renee wasn’t waiting for him.
She had started to work double shifts, claiming in the few words they’d exchanged that a staff shortage was the reason. He had nodded, not wishing to hear her speak any more than was necessary, for her words resonated in his head, words she had said she wouldn’t repeat. And she hadn’t, yet, lately Sam wondered if Renee’s words had slipped from him into Fran’s head. Fran had lost weight and was now on bed rest. Her blood pressure was dangerously high and while she had expressed a desire to see Lynne and Eric become members of St. Matthew’s, there was no possible way for her to travel. Louie had privately expressed to Sam that if, God forbid, something happened during the birth, Louie was going to insist that his wife’s health took precedence. It wasn’t in line with Catholic teachings, but they weren’t having these babies in a Catholic hospital.
Sam parked in the driveway, then gazed at the house. The curtains were drawn, which meant Renee wasn’t home. He was glad for that, then he winced as a part of his heart throbbed. He missed her beyond reasonable comprehension; had Lynne and Eric felt this way when he was gone? Their situation had no resolution until Eric returned, but at least that was the answer, yet for Sam, there seemed no manner to reconcile the anger he felt toward his wife, and Sam was angry. How dare she say something so cruel, so…. He shuddered, then got out of the car, heading to the front door.
To his surprise, it wasn’t locked. Sam looked around, but nothing in the yard seemed amiss. He stepped inside, finding their living room as he had left it, Eric’s paintings hanging on the walls. Along with a number of others, those three canvases would be on display in August, and Sam hadn’t thought about that event either, another night he and Renee would have to put on a semblance of…. Sam closed his eyes. “Renee, are you home?”
Speaking her name hurt, not from irritation, only loneliness. Sam missed her desperately, all of her, even that flash of resentment that had built into something insurmountable. She was deeply bitter that his sister could have so many children, but it wasn’t Frannie’s fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was God’s will and…. “Renee, you here?”
Then the silence was punctured by faint weeping. Quickly Sam walked toward their bedroom, a woman’s tears increasing in sound as he approached. When he reached their open door, Renee was shaking and sobbing, had she been like that when he first stepped inside or had his presence caused such an outburst? For the first time in four weeks, Sam’s heart was open to his wife. She still was his wife, but as he noticed the half-filled suitcase on his side of their bed, a greater fear gripped his heart. She hadn’t left him years before when he had willingly told her to, but now…. “Renee, what’s going on?”
Only then did he see another change, her hair no longer spread out over the pillow. When had she cut it, just that day or sometime in the last month, and he hadn’t noticed. He sat on her side of the bed, the closest they had been to each other in…. He stroked her face, wet from tears, but so warm that his hand felt singed. Then he inhaled her sorrow, but it was also the sweetest scent, that of the woman he adored. He still loved her, for which he immediately gave thanks. “Renee, oh honey….”
She looked at him, her eyes solid red blobs in her face. “I’m going home Sam. I have some vacation time to burn and….”
Home, what did she mean? This was her home, this house, their bed, him. Sam was Renee’s home and had been so for over ten years. “Renee, no, that’s unnecessary. Look, we just need to talk and….”
She shook her head, then struggled to sit up. She pulled her knees close to her chest, gripping her legs. “I’m sorry for what I said, but I can’t change how I feel. I know I hurt you and….”
He glanced at the suitcase, filled with underwear and pajamas. Then he gazed at the closet door, which was usually closed at this time of day, but now it was open. Sam’s heart raced and he shut his eyes, wondering if this was how Lynne had felt every time Eric departed. He might not have packed a suitcase, but for all intents he’d left her without any idea of when, or if, he would come home.
Sam grasped his wife and while Renee tried to shake him off, she collapsed into more tears, and Sam wept too. This wasn’t how Eric left Lynne, but how Sam had left Renee, claiming his country needed him. But America wasn’t any better off, nor was Korea, for one man’s assertion. And no matter how Renee felt about Fran’s twins, Sam loved his wife, his imperfect but honest wife. Renee couldn’t hide how she felt, but at least she hadn’t lied to him, not the way he had lied to her.
Maybe it had been easier to dismiss his desire for a family by cloaking that hope in fury. The longer he was angry with Renee, the easier it was to deny what offspring meant. He loved Jane, and missed her too, although Eric had mentioned she was suffering from colic and neither Ahern was missing much from their absences. Only then had Sam learned that he hadn’t been alone in pulling away from the Snyders. Maybe that was why little Jane was so cranky, she missed both of her godparents. Sam missed Renee, and for as violently as she wept, he continued to clutch her, for she felt so right in his arms. Finally she went slack and he eased her into a horizontal position, lying alongside her. She still wept, but his tears had ceased. The wall was gone, replaced by an aching, tender heart, which scared Sam, just a little. Part of his fear stemmed from wondering how they would move past her feelings about the twins. The other part was from….
“I wanna adopt a child Renee. I really wan
t that.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, then spoke again. “Honey, I love you. You can’t leave, I love you and….”
“You wanna what?” she said in a choked sob.
He stroked her face, then ran his fingers through her hair. “I wanna be a father Renee. When did you cut your hair?”
She coughed, then stared at him. “I got it cut today. Sam, are you serious, really serious?”
He nodded, grateful that he hadn’t missed her new style. “I am. I love you and I need you and I need….” He closed his eyes, thinking of Helene giggling in his arms just hours ago, or how Johnny had tugged on Sam’s other hand, begging him to read a story. The older children were just as precious, but what would a child raised with this woman do to Sam’s heart? “I need to ask you to forgive me for being so awful over the last month. And for putting this off. I love you Renee. We’re not getting any younger and….”
Now she began to wail, making speech impossible, although Sam thought he heard her say she was sorry. If she’d said she was sorry…. But Sam wouldn’t ask, for in her copious tears, he realized her remorse. It was only right to forgive her as she was forgiving him for being so stubborn. He could be rather obstinate, like how he still refused to let Eric paint his portrait, how he had disregarded what those New Yorkers meant to each other. Sam Ahern possessed a pig-headed streak, but never before had the consequences threatened to separate him from the woman he loved, adored, and needed. He needed Renee and from how she pressed close to him, that sentiment was reciprocated.
As she began to calm, she spoke halting words that Sam didn’t want her to say, but perhaps those thoughts were essential to putting this behind them. She had given plenty of consideration to her previous opinions, even having confessed them to Father Markham. That stunned Sam, for he’d felt no awareness of that man’s knowledge when the couple went to mass together. Renee knew she had no right to judge God’s will, much less think so harshly toward two babies who had been conceived in love. Then Renee grew quiet, but Sam’s heart pounded. Frannie had hinted toward that notion, that no matter what happened, at least her and Louie’s affections hadn’t waned over the years.
Sam kissed Renee’s cheeks, then tenderly clasped his hands around hers. “Honey, that’s all behind us. And I meant what I said. I wanna adopt a…child.” Perhaps an orphaned youngster Johnny’s age who longed for parents as much as Sam ached to share a part of his heart thought dead. It had been injured by Josh’s demise, then killed by Sam’s own injury. Yet, with Christ, anything was possible. Eric had mentioned that in passing and darn that man if he wasn’t correct.
If Eric Snyder could change form, the sky was the limit. And if Sam could forgive his wife…. He gazed at her with new eyes, for she was a broken woman in his arms. Perhaps all this unpleasantness had occurred to prepare them for something new. Sam shivered, then smiled. “I wonder if Stanford is coming out for Eric’s show in August?”
“Why?” Renee asked softly.
“Well, if we’re gonna adopt, we need to sell a painting.” Or two, Sam thought, but at least that of the three hawks. “I’ll bring it up with him if he attends the exhibit.”
“Are you, I mean, are you sure?” Renee’s voice quivered.
“Absolutely. Honey, I love you and while we can’t make our own baby, we can raise a child together, or I’m pretty sure we can.” He smiled, stroking her cheek. “Maybe there’s a redhead out there just waiting for us.”
“Or a blue-eyed….” She stopped, but didn’t break into tears. She traced around Sam’s eyes. “I love you so much and I am so, so….”
“Beautiful Renee. You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She gasped, then closed her eyes. Sam leaned toward her, setting a kiss to her lips. Renee’s eyes remained shut, but Sam didn’t halt his actions, which were borne of a relieved heart and a liberated soul. Or a soul mostly calm. A piece of Sam’s heart still remained shrouded, but he ignored that, making love to his wife instead.
Chapter 64
The Hawk: Part Four Page 3
