For the rest of that week, Eric kept his thoughts to himself. He was skeptical, nonetheless, that Lynne wasn’t aware, for she seemed slightly furtive. While she tried to refrain from taking afternoon naps, by Saturday, it had become a habit. So had the way she spent extra moments in their bathroom when she woke, although Eric pretended to be sleeping. She gagged, but didn’t throw up, and while he felt badly for her weak stomach, inwardly he felt like cheering.
They were expected at the Aherns at four, but at three thirty, Lynne was still asleep, and while Eric wanted her to rest, if she slept much longer, she might be awake late that evening. Which wouldn’t be a problem, unless she didn’t feel well, which had just started on Thursday night. She had spent half an hour in their bathroom while he waited for her in the sunroom. Again he didn’t hear her vomit, but the toilet was flushed several times, and the faucet ran. She had passed it off as something she ate, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. It was then that Eric realized she felt as he did, but still she avoided telling him.
At ten minutes to four, Eric called the Aherns, informing them that Lynne wasn’t feeling well, and while he hated to cancel…. As he said cancel, Lynne entered the kitchen, shaking her head. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just tell them we’ll be a few minutes late.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, then got herself a glass of water.
“Well, seems we will be heading over there, maybe in half an hour? Great, okay, thanks Renee. See you soon.” Eric hung up the phone, then slowly approached his wife, who stood near the sink, her empty glass on the counter. “Lynne, you sure?”
“Uh-huh.” Then she stared at him. “Why’d you let me sleep?”
“You seemed to need it.” He smiled, then grasped her hand. “Been taking a few naps lately, I wonder why.”
He tried to keep his voice flat. It had taken her many years to agree to pose for him, but this condition would only permit a few more days of quiet. Eric wasn’t sure he wanted her to say anything now; it would make for an awkward evening at the Aherns. But he couldn’t hide his smile, as she nodded, but didn’t speak.
Then she stared at him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He softly wiped them away, aching to ask, then to hear her say the words. Of course she was…. Then he laughed. “So you, uh, wanna change before we go?”
She nodded, then shook her head. Then she began to cry, and he grasped her tightly. She nodded her head again, and he kissed the side of her face, his tears mixing with hers. “I love you,” he warbled. “I love you so much honey.”
She pulled away, still nodding her head, then she giggled. “I love you too. Yes, I’ll go change. Will you, can you….”
He stroked her cheek, gazing at her trembling mouth, a few more tears rolling down her face. “Anything sweetheart.”
“Will you put the pie in a bag? I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
Before he could tell her yes, she sprinted from the kitchen, going straight upstairs. Eric chuckled, placing the pie into a carrier bag, hearing her gagging in their bathroom right over his head.
They didn’t speak on the drive, but she clutched his hand the entire trip. When they arrived, Eric carried the bag, his wife walking beside him. Renee opened the front door, then she paused. “Lynne, my God, are you all right?”
Renee met them on the sidewalk, grasping both of Lynne’s hands. “You look, well, awful. Maybe you should just go home. I mean, goodness gracious. You really don’t look good.”
“I feel fine,” Lynne croaked. “Eric’s got the pie.”
Renee glanced at the bag in Eric’s hand, then shook her head. “Who cares about pie? I mean it, you look terrible.” Then Renee stared at Eric. “Why’d you bring her over? She should be at home in bed.”
“Well, she said….”
“I don’t care what she said.” Renee pressed her fists against her hips. “Listen, just go home. Well, wait a minute.” She took the bag from Eric, then rushed into the house. Eric could hear her hollering at Sam, then Sam came running. “What’s going on?”
“I’m fine, really,” Lynne mumbled.
Sam crossed his arms, then shook his head. “You’re as fine as nothing. Renee’s right, you need to go home. She’s packing up some potato salad and custard. And I imagine she’s cutting us some slices of pie.” Sam smiled, then gazed at Eric. Eric rolled his eyes, unable to speak for fear of laughing out loud.
“Eric, I’m surprised,” Sam continued. “She should be in bed. You really should,” he then said to Lynne, feeling her forehead. “Well, at least you don’t have a fever. But my God, you look just….”
“I’m really okay, it’s just….”
“It’s just that she didn’t wanna disappoint you guys.” Eric cleared his throat, but a belly laugh was waiting to rumble.
“Well, we can get together in a few days. And you just put a hold on going to mass tomorrow,” Sam chuckled. “Now that I know you wanna go, I’ll hold you to it, but not until you’re feeling a whole lot….”
“No Sam, I need to go tomorrow, I have to….”
Lynne stared at Eric, and he nodded. She looked ready to throw up, and he rushed her inside the house, nearly running into Renee, who was heading outside. Lynne reached the bathroom just in time, loudly vomiting all the water she had drunk at home.
It was all she had on her stomach, and Eric felt badly that the first time she was sick wasn’t within the safety of their house, and that she didn’t have much to lose other than bile. Renee stood at the doorway. “You think she could keep down soda?” she asked Eric.
“That or apple juice, if you’ve got it.”
Renee didn’t answer, but she disappeared. Then Sam took her place. “Jesus Christ, is she all right?”
Lynne trembled, leaning against Eric. “Yeah, I think it’s just….” He hesitated. “A stomach bug.”
“Well no kidding.” Sam shook his head. “Why’d you come over if she’s feeling so cruddy?”
“I’m really okay,” Lynne croaked.
“Like hell you are.” Renee handed Eric a glass of what looked like 7-Up, although most of the bubbles were gone.
“Here, sip this.” Eric set the glass to Lynne’s mouth, and she drank a quarter of it. Then she took another sip, swishing it around her mouth. She spat that into the toilet, then motioned for Eric to set the glass near the sink, which he did. He stood, then helped her do the same. Then she waved them all out of the bathroom. Eric was the last to leave, closing the door behind him.
When he reached the living room, Sam and Renee both frowned. Eric ached to tell them, but then, his wife hadn’t yet mentioned it, and that came first. “Listen, she was okay earlier.”
“Well, she’s sure not okay now.” Renee tapped her foot. “You go home, put her to bed. Sam’ll grill the meat, and we’ll bring some over tomorrow. Tonight you can live on potato salad and custard.”
Eric nodded, hearing the toilet flush. Then he met Sam’s gaze. Samuel Ahern’s face had changed, worry replacing displeasure. Renee left the men, as Lynne opened the bathroom door, but Sam didn’t speak. Yet his look of concern remained, and Eric nodded, so wishing to ease Sam’s mind.
Instead he turned to see his wife walking with Renee’s assistance. Eric took over for Renee, and while Lynne still protested, Renee would hear none of it. She stood on Lynne’s other side, as Eric led his wife to their car. Sam brought the bag of food, then Renee ran back inside for the Snyders’ half of the pie. She wagged her finger at both Eric and Lynne, then waited on the curb, as if to make sure that Eric took his wife back home. Eric could see Renee in his rear view mirror, shaking her head, as Lynne continued to mumble that honestly, she was all right.
Eric put his wife into bed, then returned for the bag of food. When he stepped into the kitchen, he could hear her gagging, but it sounded innocent enough. He refrigerated the salad and custard, then went upstairs, hearing her getting back into bed as he reached the landing.
He smiled, wishing to laug
h, but held it back. Then he put on a somber face, stepping into their bedroom. “Honey, you okay?”
She lay in the center of the bed, nodding her head. Then she shrugged. “Did you put the food away?”
He grinned, then again frowned. “I did. But that’s the least of my worries right now. Renee’s right, you do look….”
He wasn’t sure if he could restrain his joy for much longer. He sat beside her, then stroked her hair, matted along her forehead. “If you weren’t a nurse, I’d consider calling a doctor, although then Renee would get on my case, that I should’ve just called her to come over and….”
“Don’t Eric. Don’t call anyone, please?”
Her tone was soft, also pleading for privacy. “I won’t honey, it’s all right.” He grasped her hand, which felt cool and small. Then he smiled. “Lynne, it’s just between us until….”
She met his gaze, nodding as tears poured down her cheeks. “Oh Eric, oh my God, I, I’m….”
He kicked off his shoes, crawling under the blankets, wrapping her in his arms. “Honey, it’s okay, I know. I know and I love you and….”
She kissed him before he could say any more. Then somehow they shed their clothes, making love as that notion seeped into them. As they finished, Lynne called out his name, telling him her suspicions. Eric answered her with an emphatic I love you, both laughing and crying together.
They didn’t speak, trying to catch their breaths, and allowing the news to settle. Then Eric cleared his throat. “How long’ve you suspected?”
She smiled. “For the last two weeks. But I knew if I said something, I’d start that day. That’s why I didn’t say anything Eric, I didn’t wanna….”
“I know, I understand.” Then he chuckled. “So, when were you gonna tell me?”
“Well, before this week, I was starting to wonder if you’d realized I was late. Then when Sam followed me home on Tuesday, I decided that if you hadn’t said anything by the end of the week, well….”
“When you were sleeping that day, it hit me. But I didn’t wanna pressure you.” He kissed her forehead, then slowly placed his hand on her belly.
She gasped, then wept, then put her hand on top of his. “Oh Eric, is it, are we….”
“I think we are.” He laughed. “You know how I realized it?”
“How?”
“You’ll laugh at me. I was looking at that painting of you, on the stool. Your nipples weren’t the right color, or they weren’t like I had painted the tulips. Then I compared those paintings to the one I just finished and….”
“How could you tell from that?”
“Lynne, I know your body very well.”
He softly stroked her nipples, but she flinched, and he chuckled. “They’re darker already, but then, you are probably seven weeks along.”
“Oh my God, don’t even say that.”
“You are Lynne. You’re carrying my….”
He watched how her lips trembled, her head darting from side to side. With every fiber of his being he knew she was pregnant, yet, she was still wary. Then he nodded, kissing her nose. “We need to make an appointment with Dr. Salters. If she tells you, then will you believe it?”
His tone was light, but he understood her apprehensions. Yet he held not one worry. He’d always assumed their problems were his problems, but his foot was whole, and it wasn’t the only part of him healed. Then he laughed, wiping away her tears. “After all the love we’ve made over the last six months, I’m not at all surprised. I only have one question.”
She stared at him. “Only one?”
“Mmmhmmm.” He kissed her again, then nuzzled against her brow. “I wonder where we made this baby. In the studio, the sunroom, the living room, or right here in this bed.”
He whispered that last word, for by then she was nestled against his chest, weeping hard. Eric crooned her name, alternating Lynne with Mama. Then they made love again, using no words at all.
On Sunday, Sam and Renee dropped off the chicken Sam had grilled last night. Lynne was asleep, and Renee peeked in on her, as Sam and Eric waited in the kitchen. Renee gave Eric a sharp stare, then told him that if Lynne wasn’t better by Tuesday, to make her an appointment with Dr. Salters. Sam reprimanded his wife, but Renee clucked at them both. “I’m the medical expert right now. Like I said, if she’s still green around the gills….”
“I’ll make the appointment myself.” Eric smiled, then followed them to the front door, as Sam led Renee out. Eric walked with them as far as the front gate, barely keeping a straight face. When he heard their car start, he chuckled, and once they had driven away, he laughed all the way back to the kitchen.
Eric put the chicken into the fridge, then took out the potato salad. He dished up a serving, then ate it standing up, gazing at the calendar. When Stanford and Lawrence arrived, would he tell them? It all depended on how Lynne was feeling. She said this was the first bad morning sickness she’d suffered, but it wasn’t confined only to the morning. He finished the salad, then noticed very little was left in the container. He smiled, then ate that too. Lynne could have chicken, custard, or pie when she felt like eating anything.
She was still reticent about vocalizing what both knew was true. Last night he had inspected her body, once they were both calm, and indeed, her breasts were larger, although her stomach appeared the same. Again that morning, Eric looked her over, then he asked to paint her. He wanted to mark this occasion, and while she had said yes, she was also feeling ill. Maybe that afternoon, if she was up to it, and they would work in the sunroom, in case she felt sick. He was grateful for having added a toilet downstairs, then he laughed. Extra bedrooms upstairs would come in handy as well.
Then he shivered, closing his eyes. She was pregnant, he knew she was. He inhaled deeply, then sat at the table. All week he had considered it, but in such vague terms, it was more of an insinuation than reality. She couldn’t say the word, or any others related to her condition, but he didn’t mind, for it was etched into his heart as permanently as his love for her. Lynne was having his baby, they were going to be parents. He was going to be a father, and Eric smiled, no ominous connotations connected to that at all.
Then he looked at his hands. They had lain along Lynne’s beautiful body, then the right one had translated her goodness onto canvas. Now, as if by a miracle, all of that bliss and perfection rested inside her, and he itched to paint her, for now she wasn’t only his wife. She was his wife and their child, which made Eric shake. His daughter or son lay far within Lynne, as if placed there by a….
Eric blinked, letting the magnitude of that statement find the proper place within him. Yes, he could, and would, spend the next seven and a half months painting her, and their emerging offspring, but on that day, he ached to find the right manner to express the boundless thrill, the infinite delight, the massive gratitude. He was extremely thankful, but to whom or to what did he owe that recognition?
Then he smiled, for he knew what Samuel would say, Renee too. Then Eric wondered when to tell them; perhaps after Dr. Salters had confirmed it. Lynne would want to wait until then, or even later. Then Eric chuckled, a giddy rush coursing through him. They would get the news from Lynne’s doctor, then Lynne would be showing. She would feel the baby before Eric would notice any exterior flutters, then she would grow exponentially, and he would capture every day on canvas. Eric would paint like a madman for the next several months, and then….
What about the show, in October? He shook his head; there was no way he would go to New York. Stanford could deal with it, because Eric would be needed here, taking care of Lynne. They would tell Stanford and Laurie next month, just to excuse Eric’s presence at the exhibit, unless Lynne felt like taking a journey. Maybe by then she might not be sick at all, maybe….
He laughed at himself, for honestly, he had no idea what would occur, other than sometime next spring, Lynne would give birth to their daughter or son. In the meantime…. Eric stood, then cut himself a slice of pie. He retrieve
d some custard for it, then took his plate into the living room. Lynne still slept, and he was glad for that. The house was done, the garden restored. For the next few seasons, Eric would happily hunker down, doing little more than capturing his wife’s changing form, cooking for her, running the household. Which now that he thought about it was plenty, no need to run off to New York for any reason. Stanford had managed one show without the artist, and this time, Eric would be just a phone call away.
He sat on the sofa, then ate his pie. Then he heard Lynne getting out of bed. Eric set the plate on the coffee table, taking the stairs two at a time. When he reached the bedroom, she was sitting up, but she didn’t look sick. She smiled, then patted his side of the bed.
Eric joined her, getting under the covers. She snuggled next to him, and he lay down, as she settled along his side. “Were you eating pie?” she asked slowly.
“I was. Sam and Renee brought over some chicken.”
“You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“No, but I did eat all the potato salad.”
“You pig!” She laughed, then sighed. “Actually, chicken sounds good. Pie does too.”
“I’ll get you whatever you want.” He started to move, but she kept him in place, and he smiled. “Or I’ll just lay here and let you feed yourself and the baby.”
He said that last word with emphasis. “Lynne, I love you. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love you.”
She nodded, then stroked his face. “How’re we gonna tell them?”
“The Aherns?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll do it. We only have to tell them and Stanford. And Lawrence,” Eric added, with a chuckle. “Thank goodness our circle is tiny.”
“I wanna see Dr. Salters first, before we say anything to anyone.”
“I agree.” Eric kissed her cheek. “Sweetheart, however you wanna do this. You’re in charge with this project.”
She nodded, then slowly placed his hand on her belly. “We’ll do this together, but you can tell Renee and Sam. And Stanford and Laurie too.” Then she paused. “Eric, what about the show, what will you do?”
“Stay right here, thank you very much.”
“Are you sure?”
“Honey, nothing is more important than you and our baby.” He took a deep breath. “Stanford handled one exhibit without me, he can certainly do another.”
She didn’t speak, but her breathing was stilted. “Lynne?”
“What if you have to leave?”
Eric closed his eyes, for he had deliberately not considered that. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
She nodded. “Eric, if everything’s all right, I wanna have….” Her voice broke, and it took her a minute to continue. “I wanna deliver here, at home.”
He sat up, staring at her. “Are you sure?”
“If Renee’s willing, I want her and Dr. Salters and you. I don’t wanna be surrounded by a bunch of women who either have no idea what they’re doing or think they know it all. And I don’t wanna spend a week or more where you can’t be right beside me and our….”
She started to sob, and Eric cradled her. “Whatever you want honey, oh Lynne, don’t cry, don’t cry baby. Baby,” he smiled, tickling her belly. “You’re having my baby Lynne, you’re really having my….”
Now Eric paused, as a wave of peace breached his skin, seeping along his veins. It wound through muscles and organs, settling into his bones. Then his soul was touched, and he wondered if other men were so affected. Then he smiled, for he wasn’t like other men; he was an artist, and at times he was a hawk. And for the rest of his days he would be a father, but not like his father or grandfather. With Lynne, Eric would create a new line of Snyders, then he laughed at himself, as Lynne asked if he was all right. He nodded, then kissed her lips, then traveling all down her torso, until he reached her belly. Carefully he traced her navel with his mouth, whispering affectionate words to both his wife and their child. Then Eric looked at Lynne, desire plain on her face. Eric satisfied that need, all the while acknowledging the still formless entity to which he owed many thanks.
Chapter 32
The Hawk: Part Two Page 10