After the Fire

by Belva Plain

  “A handsome boy,” the nurse said when she brought him into Hy's room. “He looks like his father already.”

  “Gerald, Junior,” said the father. “We'll simply call him Jerry, with a J so there'll be no confusion.”

  The name was not Hyacinth's choice, but as she of all people had to remind herself, what's in a name? The important thing was that Gerald was already rejoicing in his son. He was jubilant.

  “Look at him! Look at the long legs! And what a pair of shoulders. A beautiful head, too, for a newborn. You can see the bone structure even now.”

  As Hyacinth fed the baby, Gerald sat there watching the process while shaking his head as if in disbelief.

  “Mother and child. What a picture. The most common sight in the world, yet always new, always a miracle. Well, I hope life will be good to him. Your parents were thrilled, weren't they?”

  “Oh, yes. Francine had been wanting a boy, after all my brothers' daughters.”

  “I think I've got some real news for you, Hy. Grump—excuse me, I guess I really should say Dr. Grumboldt—knows we plan to go back east, so he gave me a contact that might be just the thing. He's a tremendously successful man who did a residency here ten or twelve years ago. He's got a crazy name. Listen to this: Jack Arnold Ritter-Sloan. Anyway, he's a very nice guy, Grump says, good-natured, easy to get along with, a real business-getter besides being a top-notch surgeon, bit of a spendthrift but that's his business. In short a very bright guy. Grump wanted to keep him here, but he just suddenly decided he wanted to leave, and he up and left. Now he's so busy back east that he needs an associate. Top-quality only, Grump says, and I might be just the right man.” Gerald paused. “Let me tell you, Hy, Grump doesn't often give compliments.”

  Her mind went back to the day when she had given a lift to a forlorn young man alone on a hill in the driving rain. New mothers tend to be overemotional, and I, she thought, was overemotional to start with. She had to smile at herself.

  The months rolled around the calendar, and things happened as things do, while big changes loomed ahead like tumbled summer clouds in a blue sky. Jerry laughed, rolled over, sat up, crawled, and stumbled on two feet. He was strong, vigorous, and sweet. He throve. When his eyes flashed mischief, as they often did, he was more than ever a duplicate of his father. Often Hyacinth, as she watched over him, reflected on what his advent had done for his parents. She had never thought that, except for some minor vexations and a few crucial hours in the past, she and Gerald could ever know greater harmony in marriage. But this tiny boy, this life that was half his and half hers, had brought it about.

  Gerald was comical. He bought every conceivable toy from age six months, up to a bright blue three-wheeler that Jerry would not be able to use for at least two years. He bought a cowboy hat and western jeans the size of a dinner napkin. For Hy's birthday, he surprised her with Jerry's photograph in a handsome old frame. And for Jerry's first birthday, he corralled every doctor who had a toddler for a cake-and-ice-cream event on a great lawn in the park.

  “I want him to have everything I didn't have,” he said.

  The apartment was cramped. All their fine presents, from Granny's handmade rugs to Francine's ornaments, were put away for safety's sake. One could barely move around without stubbing a toe or bashing an elbow. And it was all wonderful.

  Somehow Hyacinth was still able to do a little painting while Jerry napped in the afternoon, or in the evening after his bedtime. Far from being worn out, she was exhilarated. She painted cottonwood trees, with a distant skyscraper rising alone on the vast flat land, and she made a pen-and-ink sketch of the apartment house so Jerry might have a memento of his first home.

  She even sold some paintings. The best of her work was a copy of the photograph, the gift of her friends at the museum back home, of Ernest Shackleton's stranded ship in Antarctica.

  It was Gerald who had urged her to take it to the gallery where, although she no longer worked there, she had a warm relationship.

  “Somebody's going to buy this,” he said. “You've done it right to a T—the dark ship tilting, about to fall into smashed ice and white waves. It's great, Hy.”

  It hung in the gallery for less than a week before a boy bought it for Father's Day. The price was almost a pittance, but as Gerald said, that was not the issue.

  At the start of the final year in his residency, acting on his own advice, he flew back east to meet Dr. Ritter-Sloan. There was no sense in waiting until they moved to the area; supposing then that the two men should be incompatible, too much time would have been wasted.

  When he returned, he was enthusiastic. It had gone well. Long into the evening, they sat talking across the supper table. “We liked each other at once. Arnie started right out with first names. He's very friendly and, considering his position, unusually modest. You'll like him, Hy. The practice is larger even than Grump described. It's in a handsome building that Arnie designed himself. And the town is actually a small city, only a two-hour drive from your old home.” Gerald's eyes glowed with pleasure in the telling.

  “Wait till you see the offices,” he continued. “I don't even want to think about what he's got invested in equipment. And that's all money I would have to spend—borrow, I mean—if I were to open a solo practice.”

  Hyacinth wanted to know more. Was Arnie married?

  “No, he's never been married.” Gerald grinned. “Maybe he likes his good times too much. He's twelve years older than I am, but oddly enough, he acts younger. Yes, you can see that he likes his good times and his luxuries, racehorses among them. He rides, he travels, and he has an apartment in Florida.”

  “He doesn't sound like anyone I've ever known.”

  “I imagine so, but I still think it's a great deal for us. I think he wants to take it a lot easier. That's why he wants me. He's promised me a full partnership after one year if he's satisfied. And he will be,” Gerald added. “I know my work. Yes, I'm so sure that I've taken a one-year lease on a house, a great house only twenty minutes from the office, with an option to buy.”

  “Oh!” she cried. “You never even phoned me!”

  “I had no time. It was take it or leave it. You'll love it, though. I guarantee. It reminded me, the minute I saw it, of your parents' house, only a trifle smaller.”

  She was astonished. “How can we ever afford anything like that?”

  “You've forgotten—I'm going to be a full partner. You needn't be doubtful about the house. I know your taste, and I'm telling you that you'll love it. If you don't, we won't buy it, and that's a promise.”

  Clearly, he was thrilled with the turn that his life was taking, and Hyacinth was thrilled with him.

  This time the red car pulled a fair-sized U-Haul trailer behind it. As they were about to start the motor, Hyacinth remembered the camera, and a neighbor kindly took their picture in front of the building that had been their first home. There they stood, the tall pair and the little boy who barely reached his father's knee, smiling for their posterity, as for themselves in their faithful old age.

  Hyacinth was moved by this departure. Gradually, without being aware of what was happening, they had blended into this place. Now at the moment of parting, she noticed that the young persimmons on the south side—a particular species found only in Texas, according to the man who tended them—had grown at least a foot. On the west side, where a couple of years ago you could drive past cattle grazing across a few thousand acres, another cluster of office towers was rising. Even in this sizzling heat, with the temperature rising toward the noontime zenith, you could feel the energy in this place.

  Friends grouped around the car to see them off. Somebody had given Jerry a miniature ten-gallon hat, which he refused to let go of. The resident staff at the hospital had given to Gerald and to Hyacinth each a pair of splendid cowboy boots with a card attached. “You'll make a hit with these in Massachusetts,” it read.

  So at last the moment arrived. The engine started up, and the car moved down the
street and onto the highway. “We were so happy here,” Hyacinth said as they rounded the corner and took the road to the east.

  Jerry slept or babbled in his car seat while his parents traveled to rollicking music northward through Arkansas, crossed the Mississippi at Memphis, and sped through Tennessee to the Great Smokies. On the third day, they rolled through the Shenandoah mountains and down into Pennsylvania, nearer and nearer to New England and home. Just as the journey away had been a grand adventure, so now was the return.

  At the end, they arrived at a wide main street with maples and prosperous shops on either side, passed a fine Gothic high school, a pond in a cool green park, and an imposing hospital. Beyond lay more grand old trees and the to-be-expected comfortable white houses with colonial fanlights over the doors.

  “So,” said Gerald, “so here we are. What do you think?”

  Familiar was Hyacinth's immediate reaction. The house was friendly and unpretentious, yet if it was not a contradiction, it also had elegance. And there, sitting on the doorstep, were Dad, Francine, and even Granny who, with perfect timing, had come all the way across the state to greet them.

  “And Arnie, too!” cried Gerald. “Now that's a real welcome for you! I'd never have expected it. Didn't I say you would like him?”

  Arnie stood discreetly apart from the family greetings, the hugs, the questions, and the fussing over Jerry. When all this was over, he stepped forward to be introduced, exclaiming, “Gerald, you didn't tell me what a pretty wife you have!”

  A playboy, was Hyacinth's impression. His thick, graying hair was styled in waves. His jacket was tinged with purple. In her quick, inquisitive fashion, she also saw that his oddly copper-colored eyes were kind. This playboy was harmless. Gerald, when later she gave him her assessment, would be amused.

  “I got hold of a couple of men to unload this evening for you,” Arnie said. “They'll put up the beds, do whatever you need tonight. And there's a great deli in town. They don't usually deliver, but they'll do it for me because I'm a good customer. So you'll have something to eat tonight, too.”

  “Arnie,” Gerald said, “you're too much. Everybody should have a boss like you.”

  Arnie's hand-wave dismissed the compliment. “And I opened an account for you at the bank. Your first two weeks' salary is in it. I figured this lady will need plenty of cash to shop for the house here, after coming from three rooms in Texas. Come on, let's tour the house. You'll want to stretch your legs after a day in the car. Tell me, how's old Doc Grump?”

  They went inside, down to the cellar, through the first floor, up the graceful staircase, and through more rooms.

  Jim admired it all: “Nice square rooms. I always like that.” To Gerald he whispered, “Short of cash? I'll be glad to help out if you are.”

  “No, thanks for the offer, but we'll be fine.”

  Francine and Granny agreed that the house would be really lovely. They liked sunny rooms.

  “So cheerful. You can have flowering plants at the windows all winter.”

  “Plenty of wall space for pictures, too,” Gerald said. “We'll have them covered one day. Did I tell you my wife's an artist, Arnie? She's sold quite a number of paintings, making a name for herself.”

  Arnie's enthusiastic response made Hyacinth uncomfortable. She wished Gerald wouldn't always boast like that.

  “As soon as you people are settled here, you'll come over and see my place. I'm in one of the new condominiums near the golf course.”

  “So you're a golfer, too,” Francine said. “That's my sport.”

  “One of them,” Jim amended.

  “No, that's the funny part, living across from a golf course and not using it. I keep a couple of horses. Get out to the stables as often as I can. Greatest sport there is. This little fellow here—now, as soon as he gets to be five or so, I'd get him a pony if I were you. Start early. It's a lifetime's pleasure.”

  “Well, what do you think about Arnie?” Gerald inquired later.

  Jim was dubious. “I should be frank, so I'll just say I have a few doubts. He's—I don't know quite how to express it, but—”

  “What you mean,” Granny said tersely, “is that he doesn't talk as a doctor should. Times have changed, I know. Manners and tastes have changed. But even so, I also think—”

  Gerald interrupted to ask Francine what she thought of Arnie.

  “I liked him. He's somewhat flighty, of course, and you should keep that in mind, but I sense that he would never hurt anybody, and that's what's important, the most important.”

  Gerald nodded. “I'll take your opinion any day, Fran-cine. You're a very competent judge of people.”

  * * *

  “I'll tell you something,” Gerald said to Hyacinth some weeks later. “Arnie's not altogether what I had expected. He surprised me. There've been big changes in medicine since he finished his residency fourteen years ago, and he hasn't kept up with them. For instance—it's not the most important thing, by any means—but his noses all look alike. I'm not saying he's incompetent, of course he isn't, but he's certainly not the best, and he knows it, although other people don't.”

  “I wonder why he doesn't do anything about it?”

  “I don't think he cares. He spends half his energy on his business interests and half on his pleasures, Mercedes roadsters, and God knows what else. He's already begun to leave the tougher cases to me. Well, so much the better. I like this town. I'd like to buy this house and stay here. Agreed?”

  Hyacinth had made up her mind about that before the first week was over. She worked quickly, and before a month ended, she had finished her scheme for the furnishing of the house, to be done piecemeal, according to income. Arnie had most generously offered, had almost insisted, on lending them a substantial sum. But Hyacinth had refused it.

  Already she had made friends in the neighborhood and had enrolled with one of them in a music appreciation group that met twice a month.

  And now again she had a spacious studio at home. In it she went to work with a hopeful heart. Although there was no place for further study within a reasonable distance, it had to be remembered that many of the world's great artists had never had lessons.

  Arnie's costly building stood on one of the best streets. The office, replete with the latest medical equipment and decorated where appropriate with the finest furnishings, occupied two floors. Seeing Gerald there for the first time and meeting him once at the hospital wearing his surgical gown, Hyacinth felt a vicarious glory. At last he was where he deserved to be.

  Only fools walked through the world believing that they were in a rose garden. Yet there were moments when Hy could almost believe that it was so.

  Emma Louise's birth, a week after Jerry's third birthday, was one of those moments. She was another copy of her father, and although he had hoped for a boy, he immediately fell in love with her.

  “She's beautiful, and she won't go through life with a ridiculous name like mine,” said Hyacinth to Francine, who had lovingly made some typically Francine suggestions.

  The little family prospered beyond any reasonable expectations. Often on Sunday afternoons, Hyacinth would sit on the back terrace reading while the children played with Gerald, for it was important that he have his private times alone with them. Then she would raise her eyes from the page just to listen and look again at the scene.

  The baby voices chirped and shrieked, commanded and begged.

  “My turn, Daddy! Pick me up first. You promised. Why can't I? Oh, that was great! Swing me again, Daddy! Again!”

  She supposed that this was as close to perfection as one could find on earth: the cloistered, leafy boundaries of the private space, the jolly red and blue toys for climbing and swinging, the agile young man with his healthy children, all of it so safe and permanent, to use a word that they had used more than once before.

  Suddenly there comes a moment when it is apparent that the garden is not flourishing as it had been doing. Subtle changes were altering its bloom. A
cold spell? A hot spell? Too much water, or perhaps not enough?

  They had small, fretful tiffs. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Gerald had been developing a new sardonic manner, and he was too often irritable. Pondering the matter, Hyacinth concluded that they were racing through their days. Gerald was a full half-partner in the practice now, doing more than half the work, which did not seem to bother him. He had all the prestige and responsibilities that went with the position: the busy surgical service at the hospital, and the membership on the fund-raising committee. In addition, partly as a result of these positions and partly because he was very popular, an active social life had begun to fill their evenings. They were always being entertained at other people's full houses, or doing the entertaining in a full house at home.

  Naturally, Hyacinth was aware of Gerald's high standards for his surroundings; they had been evident from the very first days, when he had railed against the ugliness of the motel where they had first lain together. He had become more meticulous now, paying detailed attention, when they had guests, to everything: to the menu, to the table service, and to Hyacinth's dress. She, too, had always taken pleasure in doing these things well, but although reluctant to admit it, she was also beginning to wish for less crowding of the hours, for a return to the more private life that they had enjoyed before Jerry was born.

  “He pushes himself too much. You wouldn't believe his schedule,” she said to her good friend Moira.

  “Hy, take it from me. He doesn't work any harder than you do. Let a man try running after two kids, cooking, caring for this big house, and Lord knows what else, besides all the parties you give. See how that suits him! And you still make time to work in your studio. When do you sleep, for heaven's sake?”

  Moira had a blunt way of talking, and Gerald did not like her. “What the devil do you see in that woman?” he demanded.

  “She's kind-hearted and loyal, and we speak the same language.”

  “What language is that?”

  “Oh, music and books, I suppose. She has interesting opinions.”