by Ann Cristy
"I saw the expression in your eyes when you looked down at me." He put an arm around her. "When are you going to admit that it would be better all around if we got married?"
"Better for whom?"
"Better for us. Better for the boys. They need a home with a mother and a father."
"Yes, they do," Zen agreed.
Damon turned her to face him. "Then you'll marry me?"
"Or marry someone else... Ouch, you're squeezing me!" Zen bit her lip at the fire in his eyes.
"Don't tease me, love." Damon kissed the tip of her nose. "I don't like it. And you'd damn well better know that to get those two boys you'll have to have me, too."
"I want the boys, but I think we should have a.. .a trial engagement. No, wait; don't interrupt. I mean that we should have a time when we try to get along with each other, to see if we're compatible."
Damon halted in front of her, his mouth twisting wryly. "What the hell—"
"If we fight on every issue, argue all points, disagree—"
"Be quiet, Zen. I get the picture. But don't you think you're approaching marriage in a very unrealistic way? Married people disagree on many things, but they stay together."
"Not today they don't," Zen shot back. "If it doesn't feel good, get rid of it. If the glow isn't there every day, toss it out the window." She shook her head, making her red-gold curls swing around her face. "No, I want a stable home for the boys... or we go back to the status quo."
"Damn you. You would separate those boys again, knowing how much they mean to each other?"
Guilt flooded Zen. What he said was true. The boys would suffer greatly if they were separated again. But they would also suffer if they lived in a home where the husband didn't love the wife, where the husband might choose a different partner after a time...
"Stop daydreaming." Damon gave her a little shake, scattering her thoughts. "You're building straw barriers in that damned convoluted mind of yours." His touch softened. "All right, we'll try it your way... for a while."
Zen stiffened as his arm went around her waist again. "There's no need—"
"Drop it, Zen." His arm tightened around her as they neared the boys and the romping dog.
"He's a magnificent-looking animal, isn't he?" Zen said, forgetting for a moment that she was angry with Damon.
"Gentle and intelligent, too. The first day he was able to walk, I saw him down at the water's edge, looking out over the Sound. To me it seemed as though he was paying his respects to Jim, the man who owned him. When I spoke to him, he looked at me with the saddest eyes, then followed me back to the house."
"The house," Zen mused, looking up at him. "I feel guilty that the boys coerced your mother into letting them keep the dog inside."
Damon shrugged. "Don't worry. Mother doesn't seem to mind. And the staff likes him." * * *
That evening everyone gathered in the living room for cocktails, the boys regaling their grandmother with descriptions of Curly's newest trick. Zen was surprised when Damon stood up and called for everyone's attention.
"I have had Maria bring champagne to us this evening because I have an announcement to make." Zen's face flamed as she anticipated what he was about to say. Damon lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and opened it, pouring the sparkling wine into tulip-shaped glasses and nodding to Maria and Lona to pass them around. "As you know, it is the custom among Greek people for engaged couples to feed each other." Damon now had the full attention of everyone in the room. He turned to a slack-jawed Zen and held his glass to her lips. 'Taste, darling. It's Dom Perignon." He laughed when she sipped without thinking. "Xenobia and I will be getting married soon," he added casually.
As everyone applauded and wished them happy, Zen whispered furiously to Damon, "You should have told me you were planning this." She gulped and coughed as bubbles went up her nose.
"And you would have gone along with me? I thought not," Damon answered with a chuckle. He bent to kiss her on the mouth as though they were alone in the room.
"And what of Melissa?" Sophie asked sternly, her hands folded in front of her, refusing to take a glass from Maria until she had heard Damon's answer.
"I've spoken to Melissa," her son said in frosty tones.
"And what of the two families? Was there not an understanding?" his mother persisted.
"I have talked to her father and to her uncles. Melissa seems to be quite interested in one of the Rivaldos," Damon said flatly.
"You mean the winery people?" Sophie inquired.
"They are fine people," Thag interjected. "Dominic Rivaldo has been my friend since we fought in the British commandos together."
"Isn't Rivaldo an Italian name?" Zen asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Yes. We both left our own countries and went to Britain, where we were trained in guerrilla warfare." Thag smiled in remembrance. "We blew up a few bridges in our time."
"How fascinating," Zen said.
"I want to know more of this," Sophie pursued, reluctantly accepting a glass from the hovering Lona, watching like a hawk as the woman poured white grape juice for the boys.
"Zen and I think the boys will be happier if we marry and keep them together," Damon added.
Zen shifted restlessly at the sight of Sophie's unreadable expression. "We haven't ironed out all the details yet," she said nervously, "but the alternative is to split the boys."
"No," David and Daniel chorused.
Daniel came up to Zen and caught her around the leg. "I want to be with you all the time, Aunt Zeno."
She bent over him, holding him. "I want that, too."
"Then it's settled, I suppose," Sophie said, surprising Zen once again. The older woman lifted her glass. "To my son and his bride-to-be." She sipped the champagne, her face inscrutable.
"To Xenobia," Thag toasted, tapping his glass against the boy's juice glasses, delighting them.
Zen's smile was tight as she edged closer to Sophie and whispered, "We aren't planning to marry right away."
"Really? That does surprise me. My son is a very virile man." Zen choked on her champagne and Sophie patted her on the back, then rose and announced dinner. "Come, boys. You will sit next to me this evening. Aunt Xenobia will want to sit next to Uncle Damon." She stared at her son. "And why does she not have a ring?" she demanded.
"Mother," Damon said, irritated, "as it happens, I was going to give Zen a ring this evening."
"You were?" Zen said, stupefied. "When did you get a ring?"
"Don't you want a ring, Aunt Zeno?" David asked.
"No... yes, of course." She clenched her fists and followed the boys into the dining room.
Once David and Daniel had wriggled into their chairs, sitting atop pillows that raised them to a comfortable height, David beamed at her. "Uncle Damon is going to show us how to play lacrosse after dinner. Would you like to come, Aunt Zeno?"
"Yes, dear," she said, then frowned, catching Damon's eye. "Isn't that a dangerous sport?"
"All sports can be dangerous. Do you want to coddle the boys?"
"No, but—"
"There you are, then."
Damon was at his most scintillating during dinner, but Zen's temper rose as he constantly turned aside all her efforts to explain that theirs was a trial engagement.
Nevertheless, she was flabbergasted at the tender attention he showed her. When he reached out to grasp her wrist, intercepting a forkful of food on its way to her mouth and indicating that she was to feed it to him, she thought he was joking.
"Feed him, Zen," Thag urged. "It is an old Greek custom among sweethearts that they feed each other at the table."
"Oh." Her eyes met Damon's as he moved her hand up to his mouth, holding the fork there for long seconds—in what Zen thought was a very suggestive way and inappropriate in front of the boys. What would Sophie say?
But when she risked a glance, the older woman looked utterly serene.
"I think I Will have a reception so that the rest of the family can meet Xe
nobia," she announced, after swallowing a bit of fish.
"Like the one you had for Eleni?" Zen asked, remembering the hordes of people who had milled around the house and grounds, bringing expensive gifts. "I don't think—" Zen began.
"That's a good idea, Mother," Damon interrupted, leaning over and kissing Zen's mouth. "You had a bit of parsley there."
"Did not." Zen glanced at the boys, who smiled back at her.
After dinner she accompanied them out to the darkened lawn, where a cool breeze was blowing off the Sound. Yanos threw a switch, and the front lawn was illuminated.
Zen knew little about lacrosse. She didn't understand the scoring, and the object of throwing the ball from nets affixed to poles completely eluded her.
"You do it, Aunt Zeno," David urged, dragging a stick that was far too big for him over to his aunt.
Zen accepted the long pole with the net at the end. When Daniel pitched the ball to her, she swung the pole like a baseball bat.
"No, not that way. Let me show you." Damon approached her as Daniel threw the ball again. Zen swung. "Oww! Damn it, Zen, my face. What are you trying to do, kill me?" Damon held his right cheek, glaring at Zen out of one eye.
"You know," David mused, "Aunt Zeno used to play games better when we lived in Dublin."
"Oh?" Daniel looked from his aunt to his uncle, his lips pursed in thoughtful concentration. "Nonna says that when she travels she never drinks the water. Maybe Aunt Zeno shouldn't drink the water."
Despite his discomfort, Damon laughed and called to Yanos to collect the sticks before he led the boys and Zen back into the house.
"What did Xenobia do now?" Sophie quizzed, earning a glare from Zen.
"How did you know, Nonna?" David climbed up on the settee next to her. Daniel sat cross-legged on the floor.
"She just guessed," Damon answered, even as his mother was opening her mouth to speak.
Conversation centered on lacrosse until the boys went to bed. Then talk became general. Zen tried to get Damon alone to discuss breaking their trial engagement before things went too far, but he avoided her.
That night Zen sat at her vanity table brushing her hair for a long time. "I can't marry him. He makes me clumsy," she murmured. "I'd kill him in six months."
For some reason she suddenly remembered one of her favorite poems: "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner." She quoted it aloud:
"God save thee, ancient Mariner! From the fiends, that plague thee thus!— Why look'st thou so?"—With my crossbow I shot the Albatross.
Damn the man, Zen thought, he is my albatross. Not a good omen but a bad omen... "Ohh!" Zen held her head. "I'm totally nuts around that man."
She raised her head and stared at herself in the mirror. I have to get away for a while. Daddy's place at TupperLake would be good, just to get things in perspective. I'm afraid to accept Damon into my life. It frightens me to think that he may be the key to all my happiness, to fulfilling all my needs, to helping me appreciate all that's beautiful on this planet. She scowled into the mirror.
All night she tossed and turned, thinking of Damon and her father's cabin in the Adirondack Mountains.
The next day Damon went to his office in Manhattan. There was a bruise on his cheek, but no one mentioned it at the breakfast table. Afterward, David and Daniel took Curly out for his morning run. Thag sauntered after them, leaving Zen and Sophie alone.
"Mrs. Aristides," Zen began, "I've been thinking of taking the boys on an outing, perhaps a trip."
Sophie's eyes narrowed. "To Ireland?"
"Oh, no, not so far. I thought somewhere not far from here... for just a few days. My father had a cottage in the Adirondacks in a remote section on TupperLake. I'd like to take them there for just two days. I wouldn't keep them from you. I give you my word."
Sophie scrutinized her for long moments. "You will need at least a week to sort out your feelings for Damon, but whatever you decide, Xenobia, I must tell you that I have been happy with my grandsons and do not want to give one of them up or separate them."
"I understand." Zen swallowed. "Do you mind if I leave this morning? With Damon leaving for California this afternoon—"
"And he won't be back for several days," Sophie finished, her eyes shining. "My son can be overwhelming at times. I understand your need to be alone with the boys to think."
Zen smiled with relief. "We could take the dog. He'd be good protection."
"And will this place be in adequate condition for you?" Sophie inquired.
Zen considered. "I'll call Terry Watts. He was my father's lawyer, and he'll know if the place is still standing."
Sophie nodded, then lifted a hand to keep her from leaving. "Remember, my son is very aggressive, and I am sure he will find out where you've gone. You will have some days to yourself, though."
Zen's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. "Thank you for trusting and supporting me."
"Hurry along, child. I will have Lona help you."
Their preparations proceeded swiftly. The boys were delighted to be making a trip with Curly.
Yanos checked the Cherokee van and filled the gas tank. Then he gave Zen a few quick instructions on how to drive the cumbersome vehicle. She felt confident that she could handle it.
She was relieved to hear from Terry Watts that the taxes had been paid on the cabin in her name with money remaining from her father's estate, and that as far as he knew the pump, pipes, and appliances had passed their annual inspection by a man hired to check on several pieces of property in the area.
Yanos packed sleeping bags, warm clothing, bug repellent, a first-aid kit, a tent, and all the other sundries he considered necessary into a carrier on top of the Cherokee. Zen belted the boys into the back seat and allowed Curly to run free in the roomy compartment far in the back that could double as sleeping quarters in a pinch.
Calling on all the patience she could muster, Zen drove through heavy traffic to the thruway heading northwest. Once they were speeding away from New York City, she was able to relax somewhat. Riding high in the cab of the Cherokee, she felt as if she were driving a truck.
The boys played endless games of crazy eights while Curly watched them over the back of the seat.
Several hours later, near Albany, she swung onto the North way, Highway 87, which would take them to the Adirondack region, the mountainous area that covered hundreds of square miles in the northeastern section of the state.
They stopped for lunch at a rest area. Both the boys and Curly loved their double hamburgers with ketchup, onions, and relish.
"I don't think a dog should eat condiments," Zen mumbled.
"Curly likes it, Aunt Zeno," Daniel assured her as he very carefully fed the dog a chocolate milk shake. "Curly isn't fussy."
"Hum," Zen said skeptically.
After they'd finished, the boys disappeared into the men's room while Zen walked Curly on his new leash until he did what he was supposed to, and she cleaned up after him.
Back on the road, the boys' incessant chatter gradually ceased. Zen glanced in the rearview mirror to see that they were both asleep. Curly, too, had his eyes closed, his chin resting on the back of the seat. Zen pushed in a stereo cartridge and played soft music. The traffic thinned out and stretches between towns lengthened after she left the Northway and headed northwest toward TupperLake. Soon the road began to twist and turn as they climbed into the mountains.
Zen breathed in the heady spring fragrances of wet evergreens, mossy earth, and sweet wild flowers.
About an hour later the boys woke up as Zen pulled in to a gas station. The attendant, a grizzled man chewing on the stem of his pipe, sauntered over to them. "Fill it, please, but don't top the tank," Zen instructed. "Check the oil too, please."
"Yep... and I'll wash the windshield, too." The man grinned at her around the pipe.
Memory washed over Zen as she recalled other days in the north country and the friendly interest of the people there. "Thank you." She smiled at the man, looking pas
t him to the station.
"Name's Harley." He pointed to the sign on the glass window that said Harley's Garage. "Ever'body just calls me Harley."
Zen paid Harley and thanked him.
"Where ya headed?" he inquired, leaning on the door of the Cherokee.
"Our camp on TupperLake, called Driscoll's Pine-view. Do you know it? It's near Mission."
"Yep, I know Mission. One church, a store, two houses, and a gas station. Your place must be on the side of the hill back in the woody section. Kinda lonely up there. Good to have a dog. Get your food at Dina Lipp's place. Fresh stuff." He nodded and saluted them with two fingers as they pulled away.
The boys were growing tired and restless now. They squirmed in their seats and demanded that they be allowed to unbuckle their seat belts.
"No," Zen told them. "We'll be there soon, but the road to the camp is very bumpy... at least it used to be... and I don't want you bouncing around inside the car. Besides, it's against the law for young children to ride in a car without seat belts. Do you want me to break the law?"
"No, Aunt Zeno." David sighed. "But my bottom hurts."
On the last leg of the trip the boys tried Zen's patience to the limits as she struggled to maneuver the large vehicle down the circuitous road that led from the highway past Tupper Lake.
They entered the hamlet of Mission and turned onto a side road filled with mud and deep ruts. The spring thaw must be worse than usual, Zen surmised, her hands locked on the wheel as the van bucked and skidded down the road. She said a silent prayer of thanks for the four-wheel drive.
They rounded a curve in the muddy road and the lake came into view. A sign read: Driscoll's Pineview Lodge. Heaving a big sigh, she pulled the van to a stop. "We're here, boys. Now, be still. I'm not sure I can make it up the driveway to the cottage."
Zen opened the door of the van and stepped down, studying the winding track that led uphill to a log cabin nestled among the pines. For some reason it looked smaller than Zen remembered. She walked up the rutted track, her heart sinking as she saw the sagging shutters and the holes in the porch screens. It was obvious that no extra care had been given to Pineview Lodge in many years. "Only the taxes have been paid," she said ruefully, deciding to chance the upgrade with the four-wheel-drive vehicle.