Fran returned to the care of her family, her steps slow, her heart weary. Only to her mother and Louie did she reveal the depth of her sorrows, for to Fran’s surprise, Louie was as disconsolate as she. He hadn’t wanted more children and through summer his mood was often that of a frustrated and overburdened father. Yet, perhaps those feelings had been to shield himself from the reality of two more offspring, twins of all things. And maybe, Fran told only her mom, that the babies had been sons, identical even, had reached into Louie far more deeply than he had imagined was possible. All of Fran’s family was touched by this loss, from nearly each of her children to her siblings and their clans. Only little Helene was unaware of the magnitude of the tragedy, but the two and a half year old was very happy for her mother’s return. Fran spoke about that with her mom, also with Lynne Snyder, when she visited. Helene would never know the pain the rest suffered and for that Fran was grateful.
The first time Lynne went to see Fran alone was also the last time Lynne went by herself. That was while Fran was still in the hospital, and while Jane wouldn’t have been allowed into Fran’s room, Fran insisted that when she was home for Lynne to call and to bring the baby with her. At first Lynne had hesitated, but Fran was insistent, and two weeks later, Lynne and Jane spent an afternoon at the Canfields, Helene the only child at home. The rest, even little Johnny, were in school, and Fran seemed much better to Lynne, her coloring healthy, her steps nearly to her usual pace. It had been almost a month and Fran was mostly recovered, what she said to Lynne as Helene jabbered at Jane. The mothers sat in Fran’s kitchen, Helene in her high chair, Jane in Fran’s arms. When the Snyders arrived, Fran had wept only because Jane was crying, needing to nurse. But quickly Fran’s tears dried as Jane settled at her mother’s bosom. Lynne had felt an initial awkwardness, but it dissipated quickly, for Fran seemed to harbor no resentment towards Lynne, even grasping Lynne’s free hand while Jane settled. The women shared tender gazes, for Fran knew it had taken Lynne and Eric years to conceive, although the reason for that hardship was to Fran yet another mystery.
After Jane was finished, Fran spoke about that element of faith, how God’s works were often too much for humans to ponder. Then she spoke honestly, that at times she was relieved the babies were with Christ, for she had seen them, only for moments, and they had looked nothing like her other newborns. They had appeared fleeting, then Fran admitted to Lynne she had felt that way during most of her pregnancy. That particular confinement had carried an ominous sensation as soon as it had been confirmed by her doctor. Not that Fran had expected this outcome, but having been back in her own domain now for a number of days, even with most of the kids at school, Fran had wondered what sort of toll caring for two more offspring would have exacted, especially babies that would have been so frail.
Simon had been born first, and was the smaller of the two. Andrew had been the recipient twin of the transfusion, and while nearly double Simon’s size, Andrew’s heart had been weakened by the strain of receiving so much placental blood. Even if Fran had gone to term, neither baby would have survived, in fact they probably would have been stillborn. Lynne knew these details, yet she didn’t deter Fran from speaking. Fran needed to share these facts verbally and only with a select few could she be so forthright. She had talked to her mother and had shared a little with Louie. But with Lynne, who had been a nurse, Fran could open her heart to the more disturbing pieces of her sons’ brief lives. For some reason they had been born, but their existences weren’t destined for a corporeal significance. That tenant had helped Fran to accept their deaths, which she said through tears. Perhaps she would never know why Simon and Andrew had rested in her womb, then breathed for only minutes. But some aspects of this life, Fran sighed, wiping her cheeks, were only relevant to God.
Fran kissed Jane’s head, then she smiled at Lynne. “I remember when Sam told me you were expecting. I was so happy for you and your husband. I remember the day I met him, how kind he was, and how, well, when he asked to sketch me and Helene….” Fran chuckled, then stroked her daughter’s face. “I could see in his eyes what a good father he’d make, then when Sam told me that you couldn’t have children, I was so sorry for you both. I’ve been praying for you since then and well, Jane’s such a beauty.” Fran hugged her, then smiled. “Thank you for bringing her today. It really does help. Maybe some people might not understand, but I think you do.”
Lynne nodded, although a part of her felt slight remorse, for she hadn’t been as open-hearted when working. Renee had no trouble being called to the maternity ward, but Lynne had only gone when absolutely necessary. Then Lynne inwardly cringed; was Renee’s temperament still that magnanimous now that Sam had decided they weren’t going to adopt? Not that Sam and Renee were on speaking terms; the frost from August hadn’t abated in September, and there seemed no end in sight. Lynne wasn’t sure if Fran knew the extent of her brother and sister-in-law’s troubles, but Joan called the Snyders every few days, hoping for better news. Neither Eric nor Lynne had any to give her.
The Aherns had pulled away from each other, and from their friends, but Jane seemed unaware, for which Lynne was grateful. Jane had become fond of Mrs. Kenny and a few other older ladies at St. Matthew’s who admired her growing hair, bright smile, and teasing laughter. She was nearly six months old and if Fran set her on the floor, Jane would be up on all fours, peering around the room as if she could speed away. She couldn’t quite crawl, but Eric said it would happen any day. He never added how unfortunate it was that Sam and Renee would miss it.
Lynne understood their absences; Sam didn’t want to be cajoled into forgiving his wife and Renee would cry in Jane’s presence for the child she and Sam no longer would adopt. Stanford had been greatly surprised that Sam didn’t want to sell their painting, but Eric hadn’t said more than the Aherns had changed their minds. Only Sam had become obstinate, both Snyders knew, but they too were taken aback at the depth of his antagonism. Lynne wasn’t sure if other Ahern siblings were aware besides Joan, and Lynne hoped Fran had no idea.
It wasn’t Fran’s fault, just as it wasn’t Renee’s. Lynne grasped that some things occurred without a single shred of purpose, yet later a few reasons were evident. Jane happily babbled in Fran’s arms and Lynne blinked away tears, both for the joy of her daughter and for the loss of Fran’s sons.
“She’s gotten so big since I saw her last,” Fran said. “Is she crawling yet?”
“Nearly. Eric keeps saying it’s gonna be any day now.”
“I bet she’ll be walking early. Most of mine were, it happens before you expect it.”
Lynne nodded, hearing a hint of wistfulness in Fran’s tone. “I remember Renee and Sam saying how fast Helene had grown. I suppose it all happens before we’re ready for it.”
Lynne spoke carefully, not wishing to insinuate what Fran would miss, and also not wishing to note any more about the Aherns. Yet, as Fran stood and nodded, then handed Jane back to her mother, Lynne wondered if Fran was alert to other issues. Fran released Helene from the high chair, then set her on the floor. Helene ran to where Lynne sat, the toddler trying to reach for Jane. “Baby, baby,” Helene said.
“Sally mopped a few days ago, the floor’s not too dirty.” Fran’s tone was shaky, then she gazed at Lynne. “Or we could go in the living room. But I’ll tell you, Helene will try to get Jane moving.”
“Let’s go in the living room,” Lynne said. “More comfortable chairs in there.”
Fran smiled. “That sounds good to me.” She led the way as Helene remained at Lynne’s side, trying to reach for a playmate.
That evening, Jane wobbled on her knees as she put one hand in front of the other, then another, followed by a few more. She crept two feet, then crashed onto her belly, crying profusely. Yet parents were thrilled for her attempt, although Fran had warned Lynne that once Jane realized she could get away, there was no going back. Lynne had shared those sentiments with Eric and now it was true, for as soon as Jane was placated, she wa
nted out of her parents’ arms and back on the floor. For half an hour she crept, crashed, cried, then crept again. She fell asleep at Lynne’s bosom, not finishing her last nursing of the day.
It was only seven thirty, but they wouldn’t call Stanford and Laurie that night, although Eric said he would try them first thing in the morning, if only to tell Agatha the news. Lynne knew who else would be thrilled to hear about Jane’s achievement, but to call the Aherns would be equally hurtful, or at least Renee would weep. Lynne wasn’t sure how Sam would respond, for now her feelings toward him were back to over two years ago when she was sure he would hate her forever. Her fears hadn’t been borne out, yet Lynne had no idea about that man. Fran hadn’t spoken overtly about her brother and Renee, but she seemed mindful of the chasm, for she said she hoped they changed their minds about adoption, her tone as uncertain as how Lynne felt. Lynne hadn’t added her opinion, for she truly had no sense of how Sam and Renee would solve this problem, and what would occur if and when they did.
Eric had assumed Sam would get over it, but weeks had passed with no notion of reconciliation in sight. Eric had never seen Sam in this state, but Lynne’s memories were as if only yesterday he had dripped water on her kitchen floor, his eyes lifeless, his temper fiery. She had run into him a few times at the grocery store and while he was outwardly cordial, Lynne ached to grasp his hand, offer a gentle touch. Sam needed a very tender balm on his soul, but he wasn’t allowing anyone to provide that healing. Not even Eric had made any headway, and while the men’s friendship wasn’t as lengthy as some Sam shared, it was profound. Still, Sam avoided all of the Snyders. Yet, how did he live day after day in the same house with his wife?
Lynne couldn’t consider that, too painful. It was actually easier thinking of her conversation with Fran, which Lynne recounted to Eric, although not every detail. He was glad to hear she was feeling better and that Jane had brightened her day. And Helene’s, Eric smiled, as the couple snuggled on the sofa. Then Eric sighed. “Do you think she knows about Sam and Renee?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t seem to wanna talk about it. She has enough on her plate.”
“That she does. I suppose it’s better now that the kids are in school, well most of the kids.”
“I agree. And probably good for the kids too. I think routine is important, helps to keep one from dwelling too much on unpleasantness.”
Routine had saved Lynne’s sanity when Eric was gone, but his departures weren’t like what Fran and Louie had suffered. And was it harder on Renee, what with Sam so close, yet a million miles away? Lynne took a deep breath, but it felt caught in her chest. She choked and Eric roughly sat her up, then patted her back. “Honey, you okay?”
She nodded, inhaling, then exhaling, but the heaviness remained. “Eric, this can’t go on for much longer. It was one thing when you were gone. But I just can’t imagine what she’s feeling, what with him in that house but not giving her the time of day.”
“I know. I went over there today, but no one was home. The house looked different, so lonely.” Eric sighed, then kissed Lynne’s head. “I thought about driving over to the VA hospital, I knew that’s where he was since you were at Fran’s. But instead I drove home, talked to Stanford. He said all I had to do was give the word and he could set up a November show.”
“Really? Why didn’t you tell me when I got home?”
“Because it just doesn’t seem right.” Eric sighed. “Between the Canfields’ loss and this with Sam and Renee, I just don’t feel, oh hell.”
Lynne turned to face him. “Honey, what?”
Eric stroked her cheek, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, Lynne gasped, for a deep sadness edged his gray irises. “I’m sure Seth’ll be home by then and to be honest I’m a little wary of meeting him. I wanna meet him, don’t get me wrong, but not if he’s….”
Lynne nodded. “I understand. Is that all?”
Eric smiled wryly, then shook his head. “It’s funny, because the show here started so well, but after that first night, I couldn’t feel the usual joy. Most of that was from, well, you know. But a little of it was, and this makes me cringe even saying it, but….”
He paused, then gripped Lynne’s hands. “Eric, what? You can tell me anything.”
He nodded, then spoke. “I’ve gotten used to paintings selling out.” He clucked, then sighed. “I was really looking forward to whatever the hawks went for, I wanted Sam and Renee to make a bundle off that painting, maybe she could quit work altogether. Now it’s like, so what? I never cared what the nudes would earn, you know that never matters to me. And now that they’re not thinking about having a family….” He slumped against the back of the sofa. “I know you’ve seen him like this and I’m sure Renee has too, but never was she the reason for his anger, or should I say the one he’s taking it out on. He’s pissed, okay. But he won’t talk to me, he won’t even acknowledge that he’s so damn mad. Maybe if I suddenly turned into a hawk and flew over to his house….”
Lynne smiled, then burst into a fit of giggles. “That might be what it’ll take. Too bad you can’t just will yourself into being a bird.”
Eric grinned, then chuckled. “For Sam and Renee, I’d do it. But I don’t wanna do it for Seth and that’s the main reason I don’t wanna schedule a show in New York. If the paintings could just be sent straight to London, great! Let them traipse all across Europe. The one of Marek and Jane is just about set, and believe me, I’ve been glad to have that to work on. I’ll tell you honey, other than painting you and Jane, I don’t know what I wanna work on next. I wish I could’ve sketched Stan and Laurie.”
“You could do that in New York.”
Eric nodded, then shook his head. “No, they’d have to be here, in front of some rather fruit-laden boysenberry vines.” Eric smiled. “But that’s for next summer. God Lynne, I’m almost feeling like I did when I came back in the spring of ‘62, like I just don’t have it in me right now.”
“Well, it’s been a pretty hard time lately.”
“Yeah, but not as bad for us as for others.”
Lynne set her palm against Eric’s cheek. “No, but you’re very intuitive. The painting of Marek and Jane is, oh honey, that piece says more about Marek than he’s told you. Does he know it’s finished?”
Eric nodded. “After I left the Aherns, I drove over to St. Matthew’s. I didn’t wanna come back here, I knew you’d still be at the Canfields. He asked how the work was going and I said I had a new painting to show him. He seemed excited to see it, also a little….” Eric leaned forward, setting a gentle kiss on his wife’s lips. “He’s a little wary, because now he’s seen….”
“He knows what you’re capable of. That’s why Sam’s avoiding you, you know.”
“I guess.”
“It is. Sam knows if he spends too much time with you, he’ll have to face what’s really bothering him. And maybe a chunk of it’s Renee, although that’s qualified, because Sam must realize how guilty she feels, he’s not an ogre. But Eric, how long have you been hinting about painting his portrait and he never says yes. Pastor did, without hesitation, and that man’s past, oh my goodness.” Lynne shivered. “But then, maybe it’s different being a victim of war and being a perpetrator of sorts. Not that Sam was an aggressor, but he fought, he enlisted even. We have no idea what he was driven to do over there just to survive. Yet, he chose to serve, he volunteered. He could do that then, but there’s no way he can sit for you now, not even holding his goddaughter. Or maybe especially not with Jane in his arms.”
Eric nodded. Lynne expected him to speak, yet he gazed off, not catching her eyes.
“Honey, Eric, what is it?”
“Oh, just something you said, that Sam enlisted. That Marek was a victim, although I never see him that way. Maybe because it’s been twenty years, he said that today, I don’t know how it came up. Twenty years ago his family was….”
Now Eric paused due to Lynne’s tremors. He said nothing more, grasping her close, quietly
crooning her name. Lynne tried not to cry, but many sorrows lingered. She wept softly for Eric’s touch was soothing, as were his words, that he loved her and that God was in control. Those sentiments eased her aching heart, although she wondered how many scars other hearts still carried.
Chapter 72