The Hawk: Part Five

by Anna Scott Graham

  When Eric rose the next morning, Lynne’s side of the bed was empty. Eric smiled, thanking God for his faith, his wife and their daughter. Then he took a deep breath, brushing his hand over where Lynne slept. The sheet was cool; how long had she been awake? Eric glanced at the clock; it was nearly seven. Then he stood, used the toilet, and returned to his room, gazing at the calendar hanging near the door. Eric walked that way, inspecting the X’s which marked the days earlier that month when Lynne had finally gotten her period.

  Eric shivered, mostly from the chilly air. He put on his robe, then went back to that calendar, wondering how long it would take for her cycles to become regular and then…. He chuckled while putting on slippers. As he opened the bedroom door, he heard crackles from the fireplace and a mother’s soft hum.

  Taking the stairs, he found his family reclined on the sofa, and Eric joined them. Jane had been nursing, but she looked up, then grinned at her father. She turned toward him and Eric embraced her as Lynne stood, walking to the fire. She added wood, but didn’t face her husband.

  “How long’ve you been up?” Eric’s voice was light, for Jane’s sake. Something was wrong, for Lynne still hadn’t turned back his way.

  “She woke at six, but I’ve been up since five.”

  Eric stood, then went to Lynne’s side. “Honey, what is it?”

  Lynne faced him, tears all along her cheeks. She stroked the baby’s head, then shook her own. “Not right now.”

  Eric nodded, then brought his free arm around his wife. Jane giggled, but that happy sound didn’t sooth her mother’s sorrow.

  Eric took care of Jane while Lynne showered, then started laundry. Parents hadn’t said more around their daughter than noting their guests for dinner, but while Eric wanted to mention the New Yorkers, he kept mum, wondering if they had caused his wife’s turmoil. When Jane grew drowsy, Eric toted her upstairs, setting her in the crib. Then Eric found Lynne in the laundry room. The washer was going, the dryer too. Lynne was folding towels and Eric cleared his throat. “She fell asleep pretty easily.”

  Lynne nodded, then turned his way. “Good. I hope she sleeps for a while.”

  “Me too. You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

  She sighed, then placed the folded towel on the stack. “I called Laurie this morning. I’d thought about it last night when Jane woke and….”

  “When did she wake?”

  Lynne wore a small smile. “It was two, three o’clock maybe. She was tangled in her blanket, which was odd.” Then Lynne sighed again. “I just wanted to tell Laurie that no matter how things seemed with Seth, it would be all right. I was thinking about two years ago, how bleak everything looked. I’m sure he feels the same, it’s all he doesn’t say in his letters.” Lynne leaned against the washer, crossing her arms over her chest. “I learn more from what he doesn’t write than from what he actually puts on paper.”

  “So you called him and….”

  “And at first he was worried something was wrong here. His voice was like I’d never heard him, you know, he’s usually so calm. For a minute I wondered if I was talking to Stanford.”

  Eric nodded. “Honey, what?”

  She didn’t seem eager to enlighten him, which gave Eric pause. Then her arms went limp at her sides. “We talked until Jane woke, the phone bill’s gonna be sky-high this month. A couple of times he offered to call me back, but then he worried it would wake Jane, or you.” Lynne had a small smile. “But he needed to talk, I don’t think I ever got to tell him what I wanted.” She sighed again. “I’ll write to him, maybe that’s better, he can read it when he needs the reminder.”

  Eric’s heart ached, but it was overwhelmed by his curiosity. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. So Lynne, what did Laurie need to talk about?”

  Slowly Lynne approached her husband, clasping her hands around his. “Seth knows Eric, about you.”

  “He knows what?”

  She stroked her husband’s face, then kissed his cheek. Then she leaned toward his ear, whispering into it. The words she said made Eric blink, then shiver, but not from any chill, for the small laundry room was cozy. Then Eric shuddered, but his wife’s strong arms supported him as Lynne noted that while yes, Seth knew the truth, thankfully Laurie seemed unaware.

  The couple went to the sofa where Eric sat with a plop while Lynne tended the fire. Then she joined her husband on the couch, explaining that on Thanksgiving, the cousins had a long, private conversation, the essence of which was discussing what was in the blue barn. Seth had been to the gallery every day since the exhibit’s opening and while he’d admired all the paintings, he was back to obsessing over that one particular canvas. Laurie did note that Seth had mentioned the one of Pastor Jagucki and Jane, but that was the only other piece to garner his attention. The barn was all Seth could talk about, which at first had gladdened Laurie’s heart, for previously that painting had brought Seth great peace. But now it seemed to have triggered something within Seth that to Laurie wasn’t at all serene. Then Laurie admitted to Lynne that even Stanford was out of sorts; he’d had to leave the gallery on opening night, feeling ill. And since then, Stanford had been remarkably quiet, although that wasn’t connected to Seth. Just as Laurie started to explain Stanford’s odd mood, Jane had stirred, and Lynne had to end the call. Laurie promised to write Lynne what he else he wanted to tell her, but Lynne wondered how much might Laurie actually reveal. Would he revert to his normal read between the lines style? She hoped not, or she might call him back, regardless of the charges.

  All that time Eric stared at the fire, wishing to feel the heat. The flames rose and sparked, but Eric knew only a deep chill. Then he gazed at Lynne. “But you said Laurie doesn’t know. How, I mean, can you be sure?”

  Lynne grasped his hands and for the first time Eric felt a hint of relief. “He said that they were talking about the barn and that Seth said he knew why you’d painted it, and what you’d put inside it, all the hawks you ever were.” Then Lynne caressed her husband’s face. “The way Laurie said it, I knew he took it as all the hawks you’d ever painted. But honey, it was like I could hear Seth’s voice through Laurie. He knows, Eric, my goodness, somehow he’s known since, well….” She stared at Eric’s mostly healed left foot. “He knew about that, and while I have no idea how or why, he knows about this.” She placed her hand in the center of her husband’s chest. Eric’s heart pounded as a rush of warmth permeated his upper torso, shooting into his limbs. Lynne kept her hand there and Eric gripped it. But he was still frightened, no other way to describe it. How in the world could Seth Gordon know the most unearthly aspect of Eric’s entire life?

  Then Eric closed his eyes as that warmth translated into a strange but immutable peace. Seth wasn’t the only one, for Marek knew too, but how? “Marek knows,” Eric murmured. Then he cleared his throat. “He said something about my eyes that day I went to talk to him.” Eric gazed at his wife; his vision seemed the same, despite that prolonged absence. Now Lynne looked weary. “Honey, what else did Laurie say?”

  “A lot, but to be honest with you, I had a hard time keeping it all straight once he told me that. Plus I wanted to tell him the reason I’d called, but I was never able to work that in. He said that Seth wants to meet you when we go out in spring and that, that….”

  “Lynne, what?”

  “Oh Eric, my goodness, how could I forget this part? Laurie was talking about Stanford and how not quite depressed he seems, but something’s wrong, and then ….”

  “What honey, what is it?”

  Now all of Lynne trembled. “Eric, Seth told Laurie what he sees in the barn and it’s, it’s, it’s….”

  As a wife spoke, Eric closed his eyes, pulling her as close to himself as he could. For what Seth Gordon saw in that blue barn was a weight far heavier than the secret Eric and Lynne carried, darker than anything a human should bear. Eric wasn’t surprised Lynne had forgotten it
, but he worried deeply for not only Seth, but also for Laurie, and Stanford too, for they must know as well.

  For the rest of the morning, the Snyders pondered these new facts; at several points Eric wanted to call Laurie, but he couldn’t get past picking up the receiver. It wasn’t due to the party line, nor did Eric worry about Lynne and Laurie’s conversation having been shared with others who could have eavesdropped. It had been far too early in the morning, he considered. And other than the weighty truth of what Seth saw in the barn, nothing else could be discerned, for not even Laurie realized the meaning of Seth’s words. Yet, that detail colored Eric’s mood, although he tried to brush it aside. He hoped Sam and Renee would arrive before Marek did, for Eric needed to speak about this, and soon. He would tell Sam while Lynne informed Renee, then at least two others could be aware of this oddity. They were the only ones who knew about Eric’s alterations, or at least they were the only people who had seen it occur. If Marek knew, Eric couldn’t do anything about that, nor did he expect Marek to speak about it unless Marek had the unfortunate luck to witness such an event. Then Eric sighed as Jane’s cries emerged. Lynne was in the laundry room, leaving Eric to fetch their now wailing baby.

  By the time he reached the nursery, Jane was in full throttle. He found her in a heap in the center of her crib, and as he picked her up, she still wept. He crooned her name, placing tender kisses along her face. “Oh baby, you’re okay,” Eric said, but he wondered if this child had ascertained her parents’ unease. They sat in the rocker as Jane still whimpered, but with her father’s soft voice close, Jane began to settle. Then she giggled, making Eric smile nearly against his will.

  “What’s so funny?” he said. “My goodness, but you can bring out the best in anyone.”

  She laughed at him, then fussed. Eric stood, changing her diaper, which returned her to a good humor. Then father and daughter went downstairs where they found Lynne fixing lunch. Jane was fully recovered from her sorrows as she was placed in her high chair, but Eric still felt rattled. Yet, he didn’t wish to speak about it around his daughter. Not that she would recognize anything her parents said, but it was the overall tenor, or maybe it had nothing to do with Eric at all. Maybe what bothered him most was what Seth visualized in that blue barn.

  He didn’t wish to concentrate on that, so instead he stared at his child, being fed by her mother. Lynne spooned up something mushy and Jane seemed pleased enough. At times Jane tried to reach for the spoon, but Lynne kept it from her grasp, which Eric knew wouldn’t be for much longer. Jane would be feeding herself, then drinking from a cup, toddling all over the house, except within the sunroom. The upstairs would eventually be added to her domain and he winced thinking of her taking a few steps, then perhaps falling down. Eric stood, then walked to the kitchen sink, looking out of the window. Boysenberry vines were stripped of their leaves, but the day was bright, low sun casting long shadows.

  Seth had once been Jane’s age, blissfully ignorant of the world’s terrors. They all had been, but then everyone grew up and faced the less stellar parts of life. But Seth had been blessed, or perhaps cursed, with a gift that for a few years had brought great joy to his heart and when shared it enlightened others. Then that treasure had been snatched from his grasp, or maybe his hands had been forcibly tied back; either way, Seth had felt compelled to enlist in the army, the army of all things. For what ungodly reason had Seth chosen to go to Korea?

  Eric felt the answer to that question waited in the blue barn, yet how much about Seth did Eric wish to know? On that day Eric felt he knew more than enough and Seth seemed to know plenty about Eric. Maybe Eric should just be glad Laurie wasn’t aware of anything past what Seth had said. And to Laurie those were merely Seth’s assumptions, although Eric smiled; Seth was absolutely correct. That blue barn was full of hawks, perched quietly, having had their moment in the sun.

  Or in bitter winds and freezing rains or…. Eric shivered, then heard the happy chuckles of his daughter. He turned to see her, trying to grab the spoon from Lynne’s outstretched hand. A mother was indeed making a game out of it and Eric smiled. He had no way to fight the joy stirred by his beloved wife and their darling baby. He was a man torn in two, without any manner to stop the inhumane alterations. Yet, at that moment, he was simply a man. He was a husband, a father, a…. “One of these days she’s gonna snatch that outta your hand.”

  “I know,” Lynne giggled. “And it’ll probably have cereal on it, then all over me.”

  Eric retook his seat, then stroked Jane’s hair. “She’s growing so fast, sometimes I feel like I look at her and she’s a different person.”

  Jane gazed at her father, then at her mother. Then she reached for the spoon. Lynne set it on the tray and Jane picked it up, but didn’t put it into her mouth. She studied it, which to Eric was the same way he had examined an object before drawing it, when he was much younger. Now he only needed to inspect his subject for where shadows fell, how colors mingled. But when he was a child, with much time on his own, he had scrutinized various items, trying to see them in two dimensions, the angles and volumes appropriate to each part. It had been done unconsciously; he had never thought it was time to pay attention to the curvature of an apple or the straight sides of a box. It was life flowing through those things, then how those existences were transferred onto paper. No one taught Eric to draw; it was an instinct from his earliest memories.

  Changing into a hawk had been a similar process, although he had been eight years old at the time. But by then he’d already suffered abuse, so perhaps altering form hadn’t seemed so traumatic. Eric honestly couldn’t remember anymore. Too many good moments had crowded out those lesser, and he was older. Then he wondered if Seth recalled sculpting the figures at Stanford and Laurie’s; did Seth remember a time before all he knew was pain?

  “What’re you thinking?” Lynne’s tone was soft, as was her grip on his hand.

  Eric smiled at her. “I wanna tell Sam and Renee when they get here, assuming they get here before Marek. They can pray for Seth as well as be aware. Not that there’s anything we can do about it, other than be aware. And maybe see if Laurie ever puts two and two together.”

  Eric didn’t rue that possibly. If for some reason Laurie learned the truth, well, Sam hadn’t suffered overtly, neither had Renee. Yet, Eric didn’t want Stanford to know, although he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just that Stanford was already troubled by something which Eric wished to know. He might not wait for a letter from Laurie, which may or may not enlighten the Snyders. Eric might call Stanford tomorrow morning, if Eric happened to wake before Lynne. Their phone bill would be astronomical that month, but what were a few dollars when friendship was involved?

  He smiled at himself; Eric could call the New Yorkers every morning for the rest of his life and it wouldn’t make a dent in his bank account. He had pondered never selling another canvas, either giving them away or sending them on world tours. It would infuriate collectors, who ached to possess as many paintings as they could accrue, but Eric and Lynne didn’t need the money. But what would Stanford make of such a wild idea? Eric began to chuckle, then he gazed at his wife. Lynne didn’t look sad, but rather thoughtful. “Lynne, what?”

  “Oh, just thinking about what you said, if Laurie ever figured it out. He might, I mean, it’d take some pretty strong hints from you or me. I don’t think he’d ever take it solely on Seth’s word. Laurie loves his cousin, but Eric, in his voice, I heard, oh goodness. He thinks Seth’s a lost cause.” She swallowed hard, then continued. “He spoke of him like there’s no way they’ll ever have him back, like shock therapy stole something that can never be replaced. Or maybe he said that, he said a lot.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. “It was like he felt how his mother and aunt probably do, although before he hadn’t been so pessimistic. Now he sees his cousin, or he sees who Seth no longer is. That’s what it was Eric. Seth isn’t the per
son Laurie grew up with and Laurie can’t hope anymore. He’s been holding out hope all these years and now that’s all gone.”

  “Maybe all the more reason for you to write him, telling him he can’t give up hoping.”

  She nodded, then sighed. “But I don’t think he’ll take it to heart. Not unless I was to tell him the truth.”

  She raised one eyebrow, which made Eric chuckle. “You do that and….”

  “And he’ll think I’d lost my mind.” Lynne smiled, then stood, walking to the sink. She returned with a wet rag, cleaning Jane’s hands and face, then the tray. Then she unhooked the tray from the chair, nodding to Eric. He collected their daughter, who still gripped the spoon.

  Eric smiled at Jane, then at his wife. “She’s not gonna let you feed her anymore. She’ll insist on doing it herself.”

  “Maybe. Or she’ll find she’s not coordinated enough and when she’s finally starving, she’ll give it back to me.”

  Eric nodded, then laughed. “Perhaps. But necessity is the mother of invention. Maybe this’s how Jane learns to master a spoon.”

  “Time will tell,” Lynne said.

  “Indeed it will,” Eric replied. He kissed his daughter’s face. “Lynne, why don’t you go write Laurie. The sooner he gets that message, the better.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll fall on deaf ears.”

  “Maybe,” Eric said, bouncing Jane on his knee. “Or maybe he’ll pay attention.”

  “What, you want me to tell him you change into a hawk?”

  Eric laughed again, which made Jane chortle. “No, not yet, although I won’t rule it out. Just tell him that for a long time we wanted a baby and that today Jane was preparing for life as a painter. Or a chef, I’m not sure which.”

  Jane grew quiet, then both father and daughter stared at Lynne. Eric watched his wife’s face change from hesitation to slight bemusement. Then she nodded as peace shone in her eyes. “Yes, maybe that’s the best way to approach it.”

  “You can tell him it was my fault we couldn’t have a child. Maybe he’ll talk to Stanford about it and….”

  “And what?” Lynne’s tone was incredulous.

  Eric chuckled. “Only that I told Stan I’d had my foot fixed. Maybe Stan will imply something else was repaired too.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Lynne stood, shaking her head, walking to the doorway. But before she left the room, she turned back, stepping to where her family remained seated. Lynne kissed the top of Jane’s head, but only stroked Eric’s. Then she left the kitchen, humming the same tune Eric had heard from her first thing that morning.

  Chapter 84