A Polish pastor was thrilled for news of an impending parishioner, how Marek had jovially congratulated the Snyders’ on Thursday evening. That night was split between tales of New York and Queens alongside intriguing letters from across the Atlantic Ocean. Lynne teased that now Eric had more post to answer, but Eric didn’t mind, and Marek was happy to translate notes that were written in languages he hadn’t encountered in years. His French was quite rusty, he lamented, but his German was still sharp, and much of the correspondence was from West Germany. Most of that was written in English, but a few messages had been offered in a language that for a long while Marek had only read or spoken under duress. He held no prejudices against the German people, but he couldn’t avoid slight angst when encountering that tongue.
No Ukrainian or Hungarian notes waited; those countries weren’t on the tour. Since Eric had come home, a few letters had arrived from Holland, where the paintings now were. Marek’s Dutch was minimal, but he provided what insights he could muster. He found the Snyders were somewhat ignorant about European geography, well, they knew little about the smaller countries. Then Marek smiled at himself; his knowledge of the American West Coast had been non-existent until he moved here. As Lynne served peach pie, he savored these simple pleasures, also relishing that this couple was expecting another child. They had also noted the Aherns were aware, and how well Renee had taken the news. Marek’s heart had been lifted by that information and he left the Snyder home with an overall sense of joy. He had missed these people and not only on Sunday mornings. Another dinner was slated for next week, but at St. Matthew’s. Marek wished to reciprocate, especially with Lynne feeling slightly unwell. Although, he had chuckled as he took his leave, pie was always appreciated.
Lynne made two more pies on Saturday, peach and pumpkin. The Snyders arrived at the Aherns before the Canfields, but Eric didn’t mention to Sam anything about painting that man’s portrait. They talked about the Queens’ sketches, that Seth was still in Florida, and baseball. As the women spoke in the kitchen, Sam led Eric to the back yard. A big pot of spaghetti sauce was simmering, and Sam didn’t want to leave it for long, but he needed to ask Eric if something had occurred in New York. The notion of change for the Snyders seemed to reverberate beyond the coming baby, Sam still felt, although he hadn’t mentioned it to Renee. All she wanted to talk about was how much Jane had grown, how wonderful it was that Lynne was pregnant again, and how glad she was that the Snyders were home. Sam relished those conversations, but with Eric he needed resolution concerning a different topic.
Eric began to make small talk and Sam permitted an exchange about the warm spring weather. Then Sam cleared this throat; the sauce was waiting, plus the Canfields were due any time. “So Eric, is there something else going on, I mean, besides the new baby?”
As soon as Sam spoke, he felt awkward, not only for how he had changed the subject, but that Eric didn’t immediately meet Sam’s gaze. For a few seconds, Sam felt sick inside; had Seth’s health taken a turn or was Stanford again feeling out of sorts? Then Sam took a deep breath as Eric looked his way. The last year hadn’t only been hard on the Aherns. Of course it had been terrible for Frannie and her family, but others had suffered too. Sam watched how Eric cracked his knuckles, then sighed heavily. Sam couldn’t imagine what might make this man appear so glum.
Everything in Eric’s life seemed fine. Of course until after the fourth of July, the Snyders would wonder if the baby would be all right. But that was a small consideration, Sam reflected, then he crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe it wasn’t so small; Lynne was creeping into her mid-thirties and one could never guess the future. The European tour was going well, or Sam assumed it was. Had something happened, or…. Sam didn’t want to think about Seth. “Eric, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Sam spoke quickly. Maybe they could forget he even brought it up. Gazing back toward the kitchen window, Sam wondered if Renee was stirring the sauce. Maybe she was greeting Fran, Louie, and the kids, although that welcome would probably have carried to where Sam and Eric still stood. But now Eric nodded at Sam. Sam steeled himself; whatever Eric said, Sam would listen.
As Eric began to speak, Sam took several deep breaths, for Eric’s tone was plaintive, yet his subject was otherworldly, as if Sam’s best friend was a man split in two. The Eric Snyder who left for New York had returned as a being part human, part hawk. Or at least Eric had to accept that his existence wasn’t fully that of a mere man. Not that Eric felt imminent change was approaching, but even if he hadn’t altered in over eighteen months, that transformation could occur at any time.
Sam forgot all about the sauce and his sister; Eric continued to ramble and Sam paid attention like Eric was another vet trying to make sense of the most implausible situation. This wasn’t the tone of a talented and successful painter, nor was it the voice of a husband and father. This was the anguish of a man literally torn in half and Sam had to bite his tongue several times, not wishing to denote how much was Eric like those who Sam counseled on a semi-regular basis. Then Sam wondered if he wasn’t the only one who realized these similarities; did Marek Jagucki acknowledge them? Maybe not, Marek probably hadn’t had much experience with soldiers during the war. But Marek had known a rather special hawk and Sam filed that away, perhaps he would very delicately inquire about it if Eric’s malaise continued. Eric definitely exuded some level of distress, although it was alleviated by all the blessings he possessed. As small children’s squeals filtered into Sam’s ears, it was those treasures about which Eric spoke, halting the men’s conversation in a place that Sam felt was apt. Suddenly they were surrounded by Canfield kids, then Fran, Louie, Lynne, and Renee joined, Renee toting Jane, who squirmed to be set down. Helene hollered for the same and finally Renee complied. As two little girls were reunited, Eric shook hands with Louie, then hugged Sam’s sister. Sam studied their faces; they didn’t yet know about the coming baby. But by evening’s end, that news would be disseminated. Yet what Eric had shared with Sam would remain concealed, although Sam was certain Lynne knew her husband’s misgivings. Sam wouldn’t reveal them to Renee, she had enough to think about already. And as he watched her dote on Jane and Helene, then Johnny and Brad, Sam had to smile. Blessings did abound, it was a matter of concentrating on them while managing the less stellar parts of life.
The evening ended on a joyful note as Eric announced the Snyders’ news. Neither he nor Lynne felt it was too early, plus Lynne had spent considerable time in the Aherns’ bathroom, retching loudly. Fran and Louie were thrilled for the couple, their children excited as well. Sally offered to babysit and Lynne accepted those services. When the Canfields said goodnight, Lynne and Frannie exchanged a long embrace. Fran’s few tears were of the happy kind and Lynne wept too, both women chuckling as they wiped their faces.
After that family departed, the Aherns’ home seemed depleted, although Jane fussed some, what with all of her playmates gone. Jane snuggled against Renee, who had held that girl whenever possible, but now the baby was ready for sleep, as was her mother. Yet Lynne didn’t wish to leave; it had been so long since the Snyders had enjoyed an evening at this home. Lynne couldn’t even recall the last time they had shared a meal here; she closed her eyes, but didn’t concentrate on that elusive date. Instead Lynne absorbed the voices around her, appreciating the camaraderie.
Renee’s tone was different; she sounded younger, and Lynne would ask Eric if he noticed it too. Sam also sounded rejuvenated; Lynne so hoped the couple were reconsidering adoption, but unless Renee brought it up, Lynne would say nothing about that subject. The women were almost back to their usual closeness, which had surprised Lynne for how quickly that footing had been reestablished. But Lynne didn’t wish to rush this along. As she opened her eyes, she saw her best friend with Jane cuddled close, the baby nearly asleep. Lynne yawned, then smiled. Jane knew that after her own home, this was the next best place to be.
Eric patted Lynne’s shoulder; all she would have to do is nod her head and h
e would make their excuses, which weren’t truly necessary. Other than if the Aherns were thinking about making a family, nothing was unknown between them, and Lynne sighed in pleasure, deeply contented by the reunion. She had missed these people greatly, had tried not to think about it. It was similar to missing Eric when he’d been away for a few days at a time, or at least how she thought about it now. Now those four days a few times a year would seem like child’s play.
Then she shivered; Eric was thinking about the same issue, albeit in a different manner. Yet it had been on both of their minds and Lynne wondered if it was due to the coming baby, or did Eric feel a departure was indeed imminent? She looked at him; he was chatting animatedly with Sam about all the European mail. At first those letters had been an ego boost, but upon reflection, they had exposed a reality from which Eric couldn’t hide. Maybe the last year and a half, without a single incident occurring, had lulled them into a false sense of security. Perhaps they should be more cognizant, or maybe that wasn’t how to live this life, assuming the worst. Lynne’s faith asked her to consider the best, to expect miracles. The baby she now carried was yet another gift, and she began to cry. She nestled against Eric, not that she needed to conceal these tears from their friends. Lynne needed her husband, but if he again went away, she would make do.
“About time to take someone home.” Eric’s tone was tender. He kissed the top of her head, but didn’t move. Lynne breathed deeply, wanting to fully grasp this moment. She had her husband, a child inside her, their daughter in the arms of a woman Lynne considered as a sister, and another man so close to Lynne’s family. Before she hadn’t possessed enough vision to appreciate these intangibles, but faith had widened her vista. She looked up, then smiled at Sam and Renee. They nodded as if aware. Then Lynne gazed at her daughter. Jane was fast asleep, snoring even. Lynne giggled, then wiped her face. She wanted to go home, put Jane in her crib, then fall into bed next to her husband. What more to life was there than that?
Within half an hour, those notions had come to pass. Lynne and Eric snuggled under their covers, having made a hasty but satisfying love. She’d said nothing on the drive home, but as he’d gripped her hand, Eric seemed to know her desires. Now as slumber teased, Lynne said snatches of half-formed prayers while trying to remain conscious enough to file this moment into her memories. But sleep overcame her and soon she was snoring.
When she woke, Lynne immediately listened for Jane, but the house was quiet. Eric’s side of the bed was empty and Lynne found his sheets were cool. She used the toilet, put on her robe and slippers, then stepped from their bedroom. Gripping the railing on the landing, Lynne wished to call out for him, but didn’t want to stir Jane. Hearing nothing, Lynne went downstairs, where outside a large moon illuminated the patio. She stepped to the French doors, then spied her husband seated at the table with what looked to be a sketch pad in his hand.
Lynne opened the door, making Eric turn her way. “You okay?” he said softly, going to his feet. As she nodded, he met her just past the door. Eric stroked her face, but his hands were cool. He was dressed in his robe, but Lynne wondered how long he’d been outside.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, still caressing her face. “It’s warm out and the moon was just gorgeous, thought I’d try a different sort of drawing. Never done anything so dark, not that I have time to paint more than what’s already waiting, but….”
Lynne kissed him and Eric responded eagerly. Then he broke away, but pulled her right against him. She nodded as he leaned his head on her shoulder, then she stroked his hair. Maybe how young the Aherns seemed that evening had triggered something within Eric, bringing him back to when his and Lynne’s lives were so unpredictable. Now they were downright staid compared to those earlier days, but nothing remained static. “Honey, have you felt something?”
She had wanted to ask, but hadn’t wished to pester him. Like Renee, Eric needed time to process whatever he felt might be coming. He stood away from his wife, but Lynne couldn’t easily see his face, the moonlight behind him. He didn’t nod his head either, but he set his palm along her cheek as if silently giving his assent. Lynne shivered, but in part from a sudden breeze. If he did go away, she wouldn’t rue his absence as in days past.
“I just feel like so what if I paint Agatha’s family, or Sam even. What does any of that mean if I’m away from all of you?” Eric placed his hand on Lynne’s flat belly. “It’s been so long and sometimes I have forgotten it all. Even in New York I wasn’t thinking about it, so much to do and see and….” He stepped so close to her that Lynne could nearly hear the pounding of his heart. “Maybe I’m being ridiculous, because no, I haven’t felt a single thing. And I mean that honey. It’s all here.” He tapped the side of his head. Then he sighed. “And here.” He gently patted his wife’s abdomen. “I don’t wanna miss any of this, not like I did with Jane.”
Lynne wanted to note that those few weeks were ones she never considered. Yet she understood his fear. She didn’t want him away either. “I love you. I’m sorry this’s so troubling.”
He sighed again, then shrugged, removing his hand from her. Then he faced the moon. “How many nights have I been away from you, sleeping God knows where under this same light, or in complete darkness, and yeah, I’ve come home every time, but….” He faced his wife. “Now it’s not just you and me. My God Lynne, I’m so happy about this baby, I tried to be subdued tonight, but it was hard because I love you and this’s all we’ve wanted. I looked at Sam and Renee tonight, Fran and Louie, aware of all they’ve lost, and then saw you or Jane, and I wondered why God have you given Lynne and me so much, but these others have had to suffer so deeply?”
Now Lynne stroked her husband’s face. “We’ve suffered too.” Then she smiled. “I don’t have any more of an answer than that.”
He nodded, placing his hand over hers. “I know and I thought about that too, I mean, nothing in life’s equal, and maybe all my caterwauling doesn’t make sense. It’s just that in New York, I didn’t have time to think about all this; all I wanted was to get home to paint you, Sam, Queens. And Stan and Laurie.” Eric had a quiet chuckle. “I know how I wanna paint them, but I need them here. Later in summer, I suppose. I guess I’m just complaining about nothing,” he then sighed. “I want it all, but I have it all right in front of me.” He grasped Lynne’s hands, then kissed the backs of them. Then he set a tender kiss along her face. “I don’t wanna miss a single moment of this pregnancy, I just wanna be here to paint you, make love to you, teach Jane whatever she needs to know. I wanna go hiking this summer,” he added with a laugh. “I know that’s the last thing you probably want, but I was thinking about that tonight. Sam sounded so young, made me remember how much hiking we used to do years before.”
As Eric spoke, Lynne chuckled. But when he said before, she stopped; his voice was wistful, like they never would get around to that activity. She gripped him and he grasped her with vigor. Yet for the first time in recent memory, these embraces carried a hint of anxiety. Lynne closed her eyes, feeling Eric’s face along hers. As he told her how much he loved and needed her, she nodded her head, praying for a calm heart. They remained in those positions until a stiff wind arose, blowing Eric’s sketch pad and pencil from the patio table. Eric retrieved them, then led his wife inside, where again love was made, followed by fitful sleep for both.
Chapter 112
The Hawk: Part Six Page 14