In the small room, Stanford paced between where his sisters sat and where Laurie stood, but Stanford did not approach where his father leaned forward in his chair near Constance’s bedside. Stanford kept his distance from his parents, in that he didn’t wish to disturb his dad, and his mother was near death. Stanford had never seen anyone die and he hadn’t wanted to begin that ritual with one of his relatives, much less his own mother. Yet, there had been no way to excuse himself from this place at this time. Late on Monday, March eleventh, Constance Margaret Houseman Taylor would leave this world, but Stanford had no idea where she might be going.
He’d had to cancel his scheduled appointments, well, Miss Harold had cancelled them, all but one. Stanford had personally called Dr. Walsh, but they would meet again on Thursday, at the usual time, two in the afternoon. This was Stanford’s second week in therapy, but with only a couple of sessions under his belt, he wasn’t sure how much good it was doing. Well, it held a modicum of worth, for he was there. For the last few months, Stanford hadn’t been certain he could stand this close to his mother at this moment in time. Laurie had understood, maybe that had been why he’d insisted that Stan see someone. No therapy in the world would heal Seth, Laurie had said, while Stanford ate Wilma’s delicious chocolate cake. But Stanford’s problems weren’t to that scale, which Laurie reiterated a day later, when Stanford came home from work utterly exhausted for the little he had managed to accomplish. Stanford still hadn’t agreed, but Laurie could be pushy, and Stanford had made the appointment with a psychiatrist highly regarded by one of Stanford’s clients. Dr. Leonard Walsh was Stanford’s sort of person, no-nonsense and well-read. And in their two sessions Stanford had spoken about his dying mother and Laurie’s ill cousin, which outwardly were the biggest stresses in the dealer’s life. But while Laurie hadn’t minced words, that Stan needed to concentrate on his depleted soul, Dr. Walsh seemed amenable to focusing on those outwardly draining issues. And now Stanford felt that at least where his mother was concerned, a greater pain loomed in what happened after everyone exited this room. Stanford continued to pace, wishing he could outrun the onslaught tumbling toward him with every labored breath his mother took.
Once she was gone, then he would miss her. He knew that as much as he knew his name. For the last decade, she had been slipping from his life one forgotten memory at a time. Her beauty was faded, but if he glanced at his youngest sister Melanie, there sat his mother, in her late twenties, about the age she was when she gave birth to her first child. And now that eldest son waited as that lovely vibrant person, withered into near decay, was preparing to take her final inhalation. When she did, what would happen to her?
Unlike the Snyders, who expressed their assumptions over the telephone and in letters, Stanford didn’t believe his mother was going to heaven. Stanford didn’t know what Laurie thought, they hadn’t discussed it. Then Stanford glanced at his partner; Laurie comforted Melanie, who wept hard. Laurie’s father had died ages ago, but he rarely spoke of where Aaron Abrams was. Laurie talked about his dad in a jovial manner, mostly in how Aaron would be rolling over in his grave over this or that incident. But where did Laurie think his father actually was; did Jews, regardless of their piety, believe in an afterlife? Stanford had no idea.
Religion was never something Stanford considered, well, not until Eric got all churchy on him. That had come about in such an odd manner that Stanford never considered it. If he started to, he stopped himself, for he would have to acknowledge what had occurred on Christmas in ‘61, when Lynne…. How in the world could she have let her husband become so ill, to the point of near death, relying solely on…. Stanford wanted to cluck, but his sister’s tears pierced him, as did their father’s sighs. Stanford gazed at his mother; she looked skeletal, nothing like his memories. Then he stared at Melanie, who was being rocked against Laurie’s chest. None of the grandchildren were here and Melanie’s husband was working in West Germany, unable to get home in time for this. Charles would attend the funeral, but wasn’t present to comfort his grieving wife.
Stanford’s other brothers-in-law stood behind their spouses, but Melanie cried the loudest, which surprised Stanford for she had always seemed like the most independent of the Taylor women. Maybe because she was the youngest, or it was simply her personality. Louise’s shoulders were gripped by her husband Herb while Claire bent over in her seat, her husband Edward leaning forward, much like Stanford’s father did. But Edward didn’t speak to Claire while Michael continued to whisper that he loved Constance, he would miss her, but it was time. It was time, he repeated, grasping her bony hand, then brushing sparse hairs from her aged face. Louise and Claire looked more like the Taylor side of the family, but Melanie resembled the Housemans, what with their delicate noses and high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes and laughing smiles. Melanie was still attractive, even after having been a mom for four years, and Stanford wondered for how long he had missed admiring their mother’s loveliness, the only woman in his life he had ever considered beautiful.
Perhaps the only time Stanford had permitted that trait in another female was when Lynne was pregnant with Jane. At first she’d looked misshapen, but during that visit, which at the time had rattled Stanford for what Eric had painted, Lynne’s swollen features had changed from somewhat unappealing to tugging on Stanford’s heart. His heart, he wanted to cluck, but again, he kept silent. For now there was no sound in the room other than his father’s tender murmurs.
Stanford closed his eyes, trying to detect Melanie’s faint tears or perhaps Louise or Claire was crying. Instead all he heard were breaths, first his own, then Laurie’s, then his sisters and their husbands. Finally he detected his father’s; Michael’s inhalations were weary, but tinged with relief. Stanford heard no others. Opening his eyes, he gazed at his mother. No longer was she among the living.
Her chest didn’t rise, her skin was ashen, but not the same pallid hue as moments ago. Was the chemistry of death that sudden, Stanford wondered, but he didn’t move toward her. He needed no other proof, for now all three of his sisters wept, Laurie telling Melanie that her mother was free. Then Stanford stared at Laurie; his voice was as light as Stanford could allow for what had just occurred. Constance was free, Laurie repeated, in a place where she recalled everything. That had been difficult for Stanford to reckon as she became less and less herself, but how much harder had that been on Constance’s daughters, especially her youngest. Melanie’s two children had never been loved by their maternal grandmother, for that woman had ceased to exist long before their births. Melanie had relied upon her older sisters to fill that maternal gap, causing Stanford to gaze at Louise, who was just two years his junior. She had become a mother to at least Melanie, perhaps also to Claire when necessary. Stanford had never felt a part of their lives due to his work and his relationship with Laurie. If Stanford had fallen in love with a woman, perhaps she would have drawn him closer to his sisters, alongside their husbands and families. But Laurie’s gender had kept Stanford aloof, what Stanford had always told himself. However, being homosexual had no bearing when it came to the friendship Stanford had nurtured with Eric and Lynne.
Perhaps Stanford might mention that to Dr. Walsh when they spoke on Thursday. Stanford hadn’t concealed his relationship with Laurie from the shrink; Stanford wasn’t embarrassed that his lover was a man. But what about how Stanford felt about Eric, Lynne, and Jane? Stanford cared deeply about those people, far more than he felt about his own siblings, who now crowded around their father, comforting a man who continued to clasp his dead wife’s hands. Stanford stood alone at the back of the room as his brothers-in-law joined the huddled group. Only Laurie stayed back, then he slowly approached Stanford.
They gazed at each other, Laurie’s green eyes cloudy. Then tears rolled down his cheeks, and Stanford nodded, but no tears formed in his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about why this family, other than his father, meant so little
, but an unrelated client who lived on the other side of the country pulled at his heart. In three days Jane would be a year old and all Stanford wanted was to fly west, spending that day with the Snyders. Maybe he was running away, that’s what Dr. Walsh would tell him, easier to face this loss from a distance than up close. Was that the truth, or had Stanford permitted an ever deeper breach in his defenses, allowing three strangers into the space where only Laurie dwelled.
And why was Stanford so reticent about his own clan, he then wondered, as Laurie caressed Stanford’s face. It was then Stanford discovered the tears falling down his cheeks, but that other query remained unanswered. More fodder for Dr. Walsh, Stanford told himself, as he closed his eyes, a room teeming with grief swirling around him.
On Tuesday, Laurie called Eric, passing along the news. Eric rang Sam, then Sam called Frannie. Fran expressed her dismay, asking Sam if this would affect Jane’s party later that week. Sam said that no, the party was still on. And that if Fran wanted to bring deviled eggs, Lynne would appreciate it.
Sam had added that caveat himself, for Fran had been pestering him about what she could take on Saturday, and it was easier for Sam to sort that issue than calling back Eric, who would have to question Lynne. Sam didn’t want Lynne fretting about anything in addition to her usual concerns, which now included the Taylor family. But from what Sam knew about those folks, the passing of their matriarch wasn’t the worst they had suffered.
Now they could mourn her properly, he thought, not how they had been living with her ghost for the better part of a decade. What Sam knew about that family he’d gleaned from Eric, and from Laurie. Sam didn’t know anything from Stanford; that man acted like other than his father, he had no relatives. Or rather, his relatives were all on the West Coast, well, the Snyders. Sam didn’t lump himself and Renee in that tiny clique, although he felt differently about Laurie. Sam truly liked Laurie Abrams and now felt quite ashamed when he considered his poor reaction to the men’s relationship this time last year. It wasn’t any of Sam’s business for one thing, and Renee had been right when she noted that Sam hadn’t seemed bothered by the rumors concerning his wife and Lynne. Yet, all that nonsense now seemed like someone else’s life, for neither woman worked at the hospital. Lynne was a mother and Renee was…. She was speaking with Pastor Jagucki at that moment, or Sam hoped she was. And when she came home, after she shared whatever she felt was necessary, Sam would tell her about Stanford’s mother. They would discuss that during dinner; Renee would probably want to send a sympathy card to Michael, but Sam wasn’t sure if she would get one for Stanford. He’d leave that up to her.
Other than waiting for Renee to come home, there wasn’t much for Sam to do. That night’s meal was leftovers and now that he had spoken to Frannie, there wasn’t anyone else who needed to know about Constance Taylor, other than Renee. Maybe Eric had called Pastor Jagucki, perhaps right after he informed Sam. Sam had spent that day at home, for Renee had needed the car for her appointment. Tomorrow Sam would drive her to work and he’d do the same on Friday. But on Thursday she would see the pastor again and Sam sighed. They needed another vehicle, which might seem ostentatious to their neighbors. But Renee worked full time and they had the money. Sam didn’t want to flaunt their good fortune, but it was what it was. Maybe Eric and Lynne were happy with one car, but the Aherns were a different family.
Briefly Sam winced, then his stomach growled. He went into the kitchen, pulling a few saltines from the cupboard. Normally he and Renee ate at a little past five; truthfully, he had dinner waiting as soon as she stepped through the door. That night all he had to do was heat up spaghetti, cut a few slices of bread, and there was supper. Then Sam smiled. Why had he been so adverse to Laurie and Stanford when his role wasn’t the norm?
For all intents and purposes, Sam was the housewife, Renee the breadwinner. She did do the ironing, a task Sam loathed, but he tackled all the other chores, mostly because Renee had little time to dust, mop, and vacuum. Their household was more akin to Laurie and Stanford’s than say the Snyders, or the Canfields. And it wasn’t merely childlessness that set the Aherns apart, Sam allowed.
Sam wondered if Renee was speaking about this with Marek. Then Sam pondered if Renee had gone to meet with the pastor. Last week she nearly hadn’t, which hadn’t surprised Sam, although he’d been dismayed to hear about Mrs. Harmon’s tirade. Renee had made clear that woman’s disdain for Marek, which Renee believed was based solely upon Marek’s nationality. That had bothered Sam, but people were prejudiced, and he’d been no better than Mrs. Harmon a year ago, learning about those New Yorkers. Until then, Sam had thought he was a fairly accepting person; he’d witnessed plenty of bigots in the army and had always thought himself above those hypocrites. But no one was free of assuming biases, it was human nature. How many people laughed behind his and Renee’s backs, plenty Sam was certain. They might take Sam’s time overseas into account, if they knew. And if they knew that, they also might understand the Aherns’ childless home. However, they would probably think it odd that a Catholic couple hadn’t sought out other means to make a family. Then Sam sighed. No one truly understood a person until they had walked in that man’s shoes.
Fifteen minutes later, spaghetti simmered on the stove, the table was set, bread sliced. Butter waited on the counter alongside the parmesan cheese; Sam would place those items between his and Renee’s plates when he heard the front door rattle. His stomach still rumbled, but he’d been busy that day, not only speaking on the telephone, but fixing custard and cleaning house. He glanced at the clock; it was almost six, Renee would be home at any moment. They would eat dinner, then he’d tell her about Stanford’s mother, and depending on her reaction, maybe they would cuddle on the sofa. They hadn’t made love since…. He sighed, it had been a good number of weeks. She’d been so upset and he felt guilty. If he hadn’t been so afraid, Renee would already be a mother. She’d probably still be working, but their home life would be more like everyone else’s. But now Sam wasn’t sure if Renee would change her mind. He didn’t expect her to accompany him to Jane’s party on Saturday, although he wasn’t looking forward to going alone. He wouldn’t have to make an excuse, well, only to the kids. Fran and Louie knew, or Sam assumed they were smart enough to get the gist. Marek obviously needed no explanation and those were the only invited guests. Suddenly Sam was glad for the New Yorkers’ absences. Of course the reason was unfortunate, but at least he wouldn’t have to lie to Laurie. And to Stanford too.
As Renee opened the front door, Sam put the butter and cheese on the table. Then he cleared his throat, walking into the living room. “Hey honey, how was your day?”
Sam glanced in his wife’s direction, not finding tears on her face, nor were her eyes red. But she didn’t look calm and he took her coat and purse, placing them on the nearest chair. “Renee, you okay?”
She nodded hesitantly. “I’m hungry. Time to eat?”
“It sure is.” Sam smiled, then led her into the kitchen. She walked slowly, but seemed intrigued by the scents of dinner. He spooned pasta and sauce onto her plate, setting it in front of her. Then he dished up his own portion and sat beside her in their usual seats. He had a few bites, glancing at her in between them. Renee ate with gusto, which pleased Sam. But she still looked troubled.
It was her eyes, for she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She seemed turned away from him, but Sam didn’t pepper her with questions. He had much to tell her already, when she was finished.
It didn’t take long for them to clear their plates. Renee even had seconds, which led Sam to taking a bit more. Which also was a relief, for her appetite had been slight, even after talking to Marek last week. Then she inquired about dessert, to which Sam smiled. “Made some custard today. No pie to go with it, but….”
Then he wanted to slap himself, but Renee seemed to take no offense. “Pie always goes well with custard,” she smiled. Then
her grin faded. “Sam, there’s something I need to tell you.”
He nodded, wondering if maybe Marek had shared the news about Stanford’s mother. “Well, there’s something I need to tell you too.”
“What?” she asked.
He sighed. “Laurie called Eric today. Stanford’s mom passed away last night.”
Renee gasped. “Oh no, oh really?”
Sam nodded, then embraced her. “Yeah, but it sounds like she went peacefully. They were all there, well, all but one of Stanford’s brother-in-laws. I don’t know when the funeral’s gonna be, but if you wanna send a card….”
Renee pulled away. “Oh, I will. Um, to Michael.” Then she gazed at Sam. “Do you think I should send one to Stanford and Laurie too?”
Sam couldn’t hide his small grin. “Well, I was wondering the same. Was gonna leave it up to you.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Hmmm, well, I probably should. At least for, well….” Now Renee wore a little smile. “For Laurie, but that sounds horrible. For both of them.”
“Yeah, for both of them.” Sam took a deep breath. Those men were just as committed to each other as Sam was to his wife. And they’d been together longer, since 1946, whereas Sam didn’t even meet Renee until 1947. For over fifteen years Stanford and Laurie had been…. Sam flinched; there was no proper word, for they weren’t married and…. And any other term was more than Sam could ponder. Yet, the essence of that duo’s relationship was identical to what Sam shared with Renee and what Eric had with Lynne. “Eric said that Laurie sounded okay, but then it was Stanford’s mom.”
“They’re probably relieved it’s over, or that part of it’s over.” Renee grasped Sam’s hands. “Sometimes death’s not as awful as people think.”
Sam nodded, but he wasn’t as certain as his wife. All the deaths Sam had witnessed were without purpose, and that included Frannie’s babies. But Sam didn’t dwell on that. Renee hadn’t known about Stanford’s mother, she had something else to tell him. “So, what were you gonna say?” he asked gently.
Renee looked at him, but her eyes were odd, not the hue, still that gray-white which would always make Sam weak in the knees. Since 1947, he’d been in love with this woman, he had been twenty, she was nineteen. They had been each other’s first and God willing would be each other’s only. Children weren’t meant to be a part of it and Sam inhaled that notion with more calm than ever in his life. Some couples didn’t procreate, whether it was due to injury or biology. But Sam wouldn’t hesitate to bet that for as much as he loved Renee, Laurie loved Stanford. And Stanford loved his…. Better half, Sam decided, then smiled. Sometimes he called Renee his better half, so of course Stanford could be Laurie’s better half, or rather his other half. Sam felt that within the New Yorkers’ realm, Laurie was the nicer person.
“Renee, you can tell me anything.” Now Sam gripped her hands, which seemed to tremble. “Honey, I love you. Unless it’s something you think needs to stay just between you and the pastor….” Sam said that with some hesitancy. No other man had ever come between himself and Renee. But therapy was to help Renee; Sam had no problem using that word in connection with Pastor Jagucki. Renee needed therapy just like the vets did.
No one could gauge a person’s need for mental health care other than a qualified doctor or someone equally trained in such a field. And after all these years, Sam permitted that he was that capable. However it hurt, realizing his wife was in need of assistance that he couldn’t provide, but better for her to seek help than to end up a wreck. Pastor Jagucki wasn’t a psychiatrist; he wasn’t even a certified therapist. But he was a man of faith and he’d seen how many atrocities. That was Sam’s criteria and Marek filled in all the blanks. He was a Christian, he knew loss firsthand, and Sam trusted him. That was solely a gut reaction, but Sam had deep faith in his gut. Whatever Renee needed to tell him, Sam wouldn’t turn away.
He stroked her face, then kissed her cheek. She nodded, then motioned for them to leave the kitchen. Sam helped her to stand, then led her to the sofa. They sat and she snuggled against him. He would have encouraged her attentions, but he was curious about what was on her mind. “Renee, I love you. Whenever you wanna tell me is fine.”
He wouldn’t pressure her, but didn’t want her to think he’d forgotten. Although, as she continued to cuddle, maybe this would take precedence. Sam would let Renee dictate their pace. If they happened to make love first….
It had been so long and Sam was ready. He kissed her and she responded and for several minutes they necked, which stirred such a longing within Sam that if she didn’t tell him now, well, she’d just have to wait. He pulled away, catching his breath, then he smiled. “You wanna go to bed?”
She giggled, then spoke. “I love you so much. I don’t tell you that enough, but I really, really love you.”
“I love you too baby.” But he knew that wasn’t what she’d wanted to tell him.
Renee nodded, then she sighed. As she did, Sam’s libido plummeted, which didn’t surprise him. That happened occasionally, but depending on what she had to say, maybe it wouldn’t take much to retrieve it. Sam stroked her face, then traced around her exceptional eyes. Then he kissed her cheeks, near those eyes. Her skin was so soft, her heart was too. She could be as crusty as Stanford Taylor, at times. But underneath was a tender, precious woman that Sam would die for. He would do anything to keep Renee safe and make her happy.
The latter had only been true for the last few months. Sam swallowed that unpleasant fact, then he grasped her hands, offering a soft squeeze. “Baby, what is it?”
“Marek knows. He knows about Eric.”
For a few seconds, Sam had no idea what Renee meant; was something wrong with Eric of which Sam wasn’t aware? Sam stared at his wife, trying to ascertain what in the world Eric could be keeping from him. Then the full meaning of Renee’s statement pummeled Sam like bricks falling from the sky, hard lumps that seemed impossible to believe, yet they fell in the same manner in which Eric landed when he was changing from a bird back into a man. “He knows,” Sam mumbled. Then he shook his head. “Are you serious? How could he know?”
Eric hadn’t altered form in over a year. Sam was glad for it, but occasionally he wondered how hard the next transition might be, and of course for how long. Seth seemed all right and Sam used that man’s health as a yardstick. Eric’s father was dead and while so was Stanford’s mother, Sam had no concern that Eric’s dealer would need that kind of care. Renee was seeing Marek, no use for Eric to change form for her either. How in the world would Marek know the truth unless….
Unless Eric had told him. Sam stumbled over that; why would Marek need to know? Only Sam and Renee knew and jealousy reared within Sam. It took him a moment to quell that unpleasant feeling, then several deep breaths followed. If Eric felt it necessary to reveal that detail, Sam had to respect that decision just like he’d had to accept Laurie and Stanford being together. This didn’t have a thing to do with Sam Ahern, this was about Eric and his pastor and…. “So, how’d this come up, I mean….” Sam inhaled again, letting it out as slowly as possible. “Did he just say it or….”
Renee shook her head. “No, although he did a lot of the talking. I wonder if that’s normal, I mean, when you’re at work, the vets do the talking right?”
Sam nodded. “Sometimes I don’t say anything.”
“Yeah well, I don’t know if Polish therapists are that way.” She grinned briefly, which again made Sam wary. Then her mirth slipped away. “He asked me about the blue barn, if I missed it. I said that yeah I did, but I knew others were enjoying it. Funny, he never said a thing about….” Now Renee took a deep breath, but she exhaled quickly. “He asked what I saw in it, or rather, he asked if he could ask. He’s so polite, you know. I told him I saw farm animals, pigs and chickens, and then, oh Sam, every time I think about that barn, I end up seeing poultry inside it, which now o
f course, well, it’s not a big deal anymore. But I must’ve frowned or something, because as soon as I said chickens, Marek stared at me. And I couldn’t look away from him. I know he’s just a minister, but he might as well be a priest. I never can look away from either Father Markham or Father Riley. I think Father Markham’s harder to ignore, maybe because he’s younger or….”
“Renee, how does he know?”
“Oh, well, he asked me about poultry, was that due to all your cooking or was there another connotation. He’s so well spoken, I mean, his English is so good. Connotation he said, and I, well, he is just like a priest, and I couldn’t lie, I mean, I said it was due to all the hawks Eric had painted. Which is close, I mean, I assumed he’d think it was the truth. Sam, when you’re done with confession, do you ever feel like Father Markham knows when you’ve left something out?”
Sam nodded absently, then he shook himself. “What, uh, no, I dunno. Renee, did Marek actually tell you point blank that he knows about Eric?”
“Well, no, not point blank. That would’ve been a little much for my first real therapy session honey.”
Her tone was back to its brassy inflection, which made Sam’s heart leap. He hadn’t heard that brazenness in ages. Yet his joy was tempered; maybe Renee was taking too much on board regarding Marek. If he didn’t come out and say he knew about Eric…. “You’re right. That would be, um, a bit much.”
“Well yeah, plus Mrs. Kenny was still there, in the beginning. She’s so nice, she didn’t make me feel at all strange.”
“Good, that’s good.” Sam spoke slowly. Then he coughed. “So honey, what makes you think he knows, about Eric, I mean.”
To Sam’s shock, now Renee tenderly grasped his hands. “He told me what he sees in the barn Sam. At first, I was just embarrassed that I’d brought up chickens, but then I mentioned the hawks, and he seemed placated by that. But that man’s eyes, my goodness, so much sits in his eyes. He said that Eric has a great gift, not just artistically. But that he manages to convey such hope and healing in his paintings. That was why he wanted to see as much of Eric’s work as was possible, why he arranged the exhibit last summer.” Then Renee grew teary. “He apologized for bringing that up, but I said no, that’s why I was there. And he smiled and he said that yes it was. But that he didn’t want me to feel compelled to talk about things until I was ready. And Sam, when he said that, I felt ten tons lighter. The elephant in the room wasn’t there anymore, well, not until….”
She paused, making Sam squirm. “Not until what Renee?”
She sighed. “Not until he brought up Eric again. He said that the first time he saw the barn, he was so taken aback that he wasn’t sure how to respond. That he felt Eric had been looking into his soul as he painted it. Sam, his voice was so, oh my lord, so pained, but not in a bad way. Pained isn’t the right word. It was….”
She gazed at the boysenberry vines, then at the landscape. Then she faced her husband. “It was like why I was there, trying to deal with the most difficult part of my life. I love you Sam, I truly do. And I understand why it took you so long, I mean, to wanna….” She bit her lower lip. “To adopt. And even though it’s the last thing I want now, maybe I had to understand you. I needed to know why you didn’t wanna do that because then I can love you better, be a better wife to you. Sam, I just wanna be the best wife in the world for you.”
He didn’t search for any meaning past her words. “I love you Renee. You’re the best wife I could ever have.”
“Well, maybe one of these days.” She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I didn’t know what to say to him, I probably sat there looking like an idiot. But he smiled, then looked at me. And this was when I knew Sam, without a doubt. He stared right at me, then said as his family was being rounded up to be killed, he was following a hawk through the forest. His mother had sent him into the forest to look for fruit or vegetables, something like that, he doesn’t even remember anymore. But instead he spent that day, all day, following a hawk. He said he’d never seen it before, but it flew around him, settling on a low tree branch, and he’d been so drawn to it that he couldn’t keep away. It nearly let him touch it, then it flew off, but it didn’t go far, just to another low branch. And by the time he realized how late it was, he was so far into the forest there was no way he could go home until the next day. He fell asleep right on the ground, then woke the next morning to that hawk watching him. It led him back, not all the way, but most of the way. And when he got home, oh Sam, oh my God….”
Renee burst into tears, collapsing against her husband. She wept hard, then pulled away. Sam gave her his hankie and she blew her nose, wiping her eyes. Then she peered at Eric’s paintings, but Sam didn’t think she was looking at the ones on their wall. She was looking for the blue barn.
“He didn’t tell me what happened to them, thank God for that.” Renee then crossed herself, sniffling as she did so. “But he said that hawk had saved his life. The hawk and his mother, which made him go quiet. Then he looked at me, maybe he’d been looking at me the whole time. He said that Eric painted that barn because he knew, he knew….”
“He knew what Renee?”
“He knew that Eric knew far more about human nature than most people. I guess Eric told him about his dad, but it’s not just that Sam. Marek said that a hawk had saved his life and he never expected to see that hawk again. But in Eric’s paintings, he did. Marek knows why the mice are so frightened. He knows Eric is all those hawks Sam, I know he does.”
After Renee stopped speaking, an eerie stillness permeated the room. Sam was glad to be seated; if he tried to stand, he’d be dizzy. He gazed at his wife, wondering if she had heard Marek correctly; why would he have said all that, it made no sense. Renee was there for the pastor to help her, not the other way around. Suddenly Sam felt foolish for having sent his wife to Marek; he might be a good man, a man of faith even, but he wasn’t a licensed therapist, he had no qualifications. Sam should have asked around at the hospital, although it would have compromised Renee’s privacy. But at least she would have talked with someone who could truly help her. All she had learned that day was far too much about Eric’s Polish pastor. “Honey, my goodness. That’s, uh, well….” Sam smiled, then patted her hand. “That’s plenty for one day.”
She nodded, then squeezed Sam’s hand. “I’ll see him again on Thursday at five. Not sure where we’ll go from here, but….”
“Renee, why don’t I ask for some names at the hospital? I mean, maybe our friendship with Marek clouds the issue.”
Renee shook her head. “I trust him, Sam. After what he told me he sees inside the barn, oh Sam, I trust that man with my life.”
Sam stared at her. She’d mentioned that Marek told her that fact, but had she shared that detail? She’d told him plenty else, too much for Sam’s liking. When he next saw Marek, how would Sam greet him, what would they say, or not say? “Renee, maybe I missed it, but I don’t remember what you said he sees in the barn.”
Renee nodded, then stroked her husband’s hands. “Oh honey, he sees his family, all of them. He lost his entire family and, and….” Renee choked up, but calmed herself. “He was the only one left because that hawk kept him alive. It kept him away while the Nazis, while they….”
Now she broke down completely, but Sam shed tears too. Perhaps a rational person would think they had all lost their grips on reality, but despite wishing to the contrary, Sam had to agree with his wife. Inside that barn Eric had put Sam’s most precious desire, right down to the truth of Sam’s shortcomings. And for Marek, an equal treasure waited inside that special edifice. Renee hadn’t said it, but Sam knew that for Marek, his family was alive and well inside that barn. They were being held for safekeeping, Sam realized, wiping tears from his eyes, until the day Marek was reunited with them.
Chapter 91
The Hawk: Part Five Page 10