During the second week of September, Lynne daily met Sam at St. Anne’s. Marek had no quarrel with Lynne taking communion at another church, and had personally called Jeremy Markham, who admitted that while Father Riley might object, he would be happy to bestow that sacrament to Mrs. Snyder. All that week, while Renee spent extra hours at Dr. Howard’s office, Lynne felt refreshed from spending time with Sam at his place of worship. Often during those services, Lynne pondered the significance of the Hamilton children, but she didn’t mention her ideas to anyone but Jane. Jane didn’t seem to care, but the coming baby did somersaults within its mother every time Lynne prayed over Ann and Paul.
The baby moved constantly, or it seemed that way to Lynne, who longed to share these flutters with those she loved. She received a letter from Stanford, addressed only to her. He expressed weariness, but did scribble a few lines about a weekend spent in Miami. Lynne giggled as she read, feeling Stanford’s initial hesitation, then his guarded delight in sharing such details. She would write back that she was pleased for his brief holiday, not commenting on the hawk which he saw on the way back to the airport. Lynne ached for how much she missed Eric, but at least Laurie and Stanford had enjoyed time together.
Renee received a call from Vivian; she was due back with the children at the end of the month. She apologized for how long lawyers were taking, but it was probably for the best, in that Ann and Paul were given additional time to grieve within a familiar house. Vivian didn’t infer to how those children were coping, and Renee didn’t ask. But Sam inquired, which surprised Renee. They had finally heard from the head sister at St. Francis’ Home that their paperwork had been approved. If the Aherns preferred, the nun could mail them dossiers on prospective children, for the orphanage was several hours away. Renee thought that would be best, especially since she was working such lengthy days. Sam agreed, although his tone was cautious. Renee wanted to ask him about it, but they rarely had time to talk about more than family matters; Brenda had hired an attorney, and to Marie and Gene’s dismay, was moving along with divorce proceedings. Renee hadn’t spoken to any of her relatives about the reasons for her late nights, but Sam had asked some of his siblings to pray for Renee’s co-worker, who had lost her niece in a car accident. Sam neglected to mention the children, there seemed no need. He and Renee were simply waiting for files on available children at St. Francis’, case closed.
But every day Sam considered the Hamilton orphans, how he thought of them. Sitting next to Lynne at St. Anne’s, instead Sam imagined his wife beside him and Jane wasn’t a toddler, but three years old. A little boy fidgeted on Sam’s other side, about Johnny’s age, if Sam remembered. After running that errand Renee had said so little about those kids, yet now Sam dredged his brain for any scrap she might have mentioned. The bear had a plaid scarf, was that important? He’d wanted to ask what the children had looked like, but had refrained. Then he reproached himself; other orphans were waiting, kids who had lived without parents for far longer than Ann and Paul. But, Sam asked God, why now had a mother and father been taken from their family, and the only one to look after them was more to the age of a grandparent?
On Friday the thirteenth, Sam waited for Lynne on the church’s front steps. He didn’t give much regard to the date, he wasn’t an overly superstitious sort. Instead he scanned the street, then smiled as Lynne drove into the parking lot. She waved at him and he walked toward her. By the time he reached her, she was taking Jane from the back seat. “Here, I’ll carry her.” Sam smiled, collecting Jane from her mother. “I was starting to wonder if….”
“Marek called and then Jane needed a new diaper.” Lynne sighed, tucking hair behind her ears. “But we’re here. Believe me, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
Sam nearly chuckled, but kept his glee hidden. He didn’t expect Lynne to leave St. Matthew’s, but why not celebrate two faiths? Then he did laugh softly, not at all sure that Father Markham would be so accommodating. “Well, I’m glad to see you. C’mon or we’ll be late.”
The service was the same as it had been all week, but Sam felt eyes were all over him. Did others think he was cheating on Renee? That seemed preposterous, but then overactive imaginations had troubled Lynne when she worked beside Renee. Sam concentrated on Father Markham’s words, nothing surprising in that morning’s liturgy, nor was it odd when Lynne stood next to Sam for communion. Jane received a blessing, Jeremy’s voice warm and inclusive. Lynne seemed eager for the bread and wine, but her bearing was also that of a woman at peace. Sam wondered how she maintained such composure, what with Jane wriggling in her arms, the baby doing about the same from within. Sam couldn’t wait to feel that child moving about, then he sighed, again finding stares cast his way. When he tried to meet those eyes, the glances were abruptly shunted to the floor or toward the altar. Walking back to their pew, Sam stared down a few folks who he knew well. Then he huffed to himself. He would encourage Lynne to come again next week, and to hell with those who thought the worst was occurring.
At the end of the service, Father Markham dismissed the congregation with a prayer request for a family in Colorado. He said nothing more, but Sam knew the recipients, and it was a funny family being formed. Then he thought about Stanford and Laurie, shaking his head not at himself, but at the novel idea of what constituted a familial unit. Vivian might be in her sixties, but she seemed to have plenty of energy. Maybe Ann and Paul would benefit from her wisdom. And perhaps Sam and Renee were adopting at a perfect time. Whoever they brought into their home could befriend the Hamilton children. Sam sighed louder than he thought, for Lynne looked his way. “You okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, just ready to move on. What’re you doing for the rest of the morning?”
“Actually, I’m going to see Marek. He has….” Lynne cleared her throat. “Something to speak to me about.”
“Oh, um….” Sam almost blushed. “Well sure, of course.” Then he frowned. “He’s not cross about you being here, I mean….”
“Oh no,” Lynne giggled. “He fixed dinner for us and Father Markham a few nights ago. We had a lovely discussion about ecumenism.”
Sam looked perplexed, then stared down the aisle where the priest was shaking hands with parishioners. Again stares were cast Sam’s way, but he forgot those looks, gazing at Lynne. “Ecumenism huh? That’s pretty weighty.”
“Well, my coming here opened the door for the topic. Both were very pleased for it and they hoped it would continue. Marek mentioned how you and Renee were Jane’s godparents, so it was fitting that I was reciprocating.”
Sam nodded, feeling sheepish. He’d never thought about introducing Jane to Catholicism in regards to being her godfather. “That’s a pretty nice idea.” Sam smiled, taking Jane from her mother. “God’s everywhere, nobody has a corner on the market.”
“Indeed.” Lynne brushed stray hairs from Jane’s eyes. “All right, we should be off. But I’ll let you do the honors.” She patted her small bulge. “Someone gets tired of big sister after while.”
Sam laughed. “Better get used to sharing there little one.” He led Lynne to where Father Markham stood, but others were ahead of them. One older lady who had been giving Sam her attention now turned to face him. Sam smiled, but wasn’t sure how to respond if she happened to speak.
As she took a breath, another lady interrupted. “Oh hello,” she said to Lynne. “How nice to see you again.”
Lynne grinned. “Mrs. Stewart, so good to see you.”
Sam observed the conversation, then he stepped to the side of the aisle as Lynne and the woman chatted; he didn’t know Beverly Stewart all that well, but she seemed known to Lynne, and Jane too. The other lady moved on, continuing to gaze at Sam until Father Markham shook her hand.
As Lynne said goodbye to Beverly, Sam switched Jane to his other arm. “So,” he started, “how do you know her?”
Lynne smiled. “I met her almost two years ago in this very church. She was a former patient and….” Lynne wiped aw
ay tears. “She told me I was having a girl and that Eric would be home soon. Funny, seeing her again with him away.” Lynne sighed. “She didn’t mention him, only how big Jane was. And she wanted me to tell you she was praying for the orphans in Colorado.” Lynne lowered her voice. “I noticed people were staring at you today, I think that’s why.”
“Why what?”
“Well,” Lynne cleared her throat, then squeezed Sam’s hand. “There’s a reason for all things Sam. We’ll just see what happens next.”
Before Sam could speak, Lynne was walking toward Father Markham. When she reached him, he greeted her like she was a member of this parish. Sam caught up to them, also receiving a friendly handshake. But Lynne seemed eager to leave, so Sam followed her out, putting Jane into the back of the car. He watched Lynne drive away, then wondered about her inference, forgetting all about where she was heading.
Lynne arrived at St. Matthew’s just before nine o’clock. She parked in front of the church, but just as she opened her car door, Marek appeared on the front steps. “Need a hand?” he grinned.
“Oh yes please.” She stepped back, allowing the pastor to retrieve his charge. Then she chuckled as that phrase popped into her head, but there had been no way to keep it out. Marek had received a reply from Mrs. Henrichsen and wanted to share the contents. Gazing at him, Lynne smiled. She had spoken about ecumenism with this pastor and Father Markham, but they had also joked about the men’s proclivity toward certain games of chance. Lynne thought that Marek was as good a poker player as he had claimed Jeremy was, for Lynne couldn’t discern a single idea as to what Mrs. Henrichsen might have written.
Marek asked about mass and Lynne replied how much she enjoyed the service. “But maybe a big part of it’s due to the priest,” she said slyly.
Now Marek laughed. “Well, we’ll keep that from Father Riley.” They reached the vestibule and Jane squawked. “What?” Marek said, tickling Jane’s chin.
“I’ll change her, then we can talk.” Lynne took the baby from Marek.
“Actually, Carla will be here soon. I’d prefer to wait until she can mind Jane.”
“Of course,” Lynne nodded, staring at her pastor.
Marek smiled. “I’ll start some tea and Miss Jane can have some milk with her biscuit.”
Lynne watched him walk down the corridor, then step into the kitchen. Then she took Jane into the ladies’ room.
The threesome enjoyed their snacks until Mrs. Kenny arrived, at which time she gladly toted Jane into the library. Marek waited for a moment, then closed the kitchen door. Lynne sipped what remained of her tea, then placed her cup near Jane’s. “So what have you learned?” she said softly.
Marek retook his seat, then clasped his hands together on the table. “Lynne….” He paused, then cracked his knuckles. Lynne didn’t flinch, for Eric did that often. Then Marek smiled. “This time last year your husband visited me during the Missile Crisis. We had a rather unique conversation. He told me he knew about my past. It was then I realized there was something very special about Eric. It was his eyes, his eyes are so….” Marek cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to delve into topics I know are distressing. Lynne, this woman is from my village, she….” He stood, then went to the cabinets, taking a letter from a drawer. He set it on the table. “I’d let you read it, but it’s in Polish.” He chuckled, fingering his name on the front of the envelope. “There’s not much to it; she seemed happy to know I’m simply Jane’s pastor.” Then Marek smiled. “Her uncle had moved to Oslo before the war, and somehow she and her parents managed to flee Poland before the Soviets took over. She’d assumed I’d died with my family, and said she was so glad to know I’d survived.”
Lynne remained composed, although it took much concentration to not cry. Her tears wouldn’t have been merely for the woman’s survival, but in Marek’s delight. His voice was even, his words restrained, but in twinkling brown eyes, Lynne saw such joy, and perhaps it was only that three fewer people had been lost during the war. Yet, Lynne felt a different reason for Marek’s tempered happiness. Then she sighed inwardly; was it only in what she didn’t want to know? “Marek, that’s wonderful. You must be thrilled.”
He nodded. “Yes, it was very good to hear back from her, and to have the mystery solved.” He picked up the envelope, staring at his name again. Then he met Lynne’s gaze. “Klaudia’s a widow, her husband died over a decade ago. And she has a son.” His voice lowered with that fact. Then he stood, putting the letter not in the drawer, but on the counter. Lynne wondered if he would store it in a safer place after she left. She set her hands on the baby, which was tumbling about. Then she met the pastor’s gaze. Marek blinked away tears, but his smile was wide, if not somewhat shrouded. “So that’s the end of Mrs. Henrichsen from Oslo.”
“Is it?” Then Lynne shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Well, good to have one mystery solved.” She stood, placing her hands along her back, but still the baby wriggled. If her husband was there, perhaps Marek would have been able to speak more freely. Lynne took a deep breath, which seemed to calm her unborn child. “I better check on Jane. Mrs. Kenny won’t get any work done at this rate.”
Marek approached her. “I loved her very much, but we were so young. She didn’t insinuate any more than what I’ve said. She seems to have a busy life, and while I would’ve liked to continue the correspondence, she didn’t extend an invitation for me to do so.” Marek sighed. “I won’t pester her.” Then he chuckled. “Maybe that the lesson I’m to learn from Mrs. Harmon.”
Lynne grasped his hands. “Can I be so bold as to offer a feminine perspective?”
Marek nodded. “Of course.”
“Why would she have written to you about Jane? Why not just ask if you were who she thought you were? Did she say anything about her son, or her late husband? Marek, I don’t mean to be some busybody….” Lynne smiled while Marek laughed. “But here you are, telling me how you felt about her. That’s a very private notion, and yet she had the audacity to ask if you’d had a child.” Lynne gazed at the envelope, then she huffed. “When Laurie first started writing to me, I learned more from what he didn’t say than what was on the pages. I sort of feel that way now. He and Stanford know Eric’s gone, I got another letter from Stanford addressed only to me. Maybe I’m way off the mark, but I just can’t believe that after all these years she doesn’t….”
Lynne paused, not only because to continue might be overstepping her place. She had insinuated something intimate between the New Yorkers. But she ached for honesty, so tired of not being able to share her husband’s absence with two people for whom she cared deeply, and who she knew were worried about Eric. She wondered if Seth had told Laurie exactly who that hawk was. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interfere. It’s just that Stanford is, well, he’s concerned about Eric. And about Jane and me. And I know Laurie is too. They’re, well, they are….”
“Together, and it’s understandable that they’ve discussed this.” Marek sighed, but not in displeasure toward the men. “Is there any way you could tell them, or at least Laurie?”
Lynne began to cry, but she shook her head. “I’d love to, but how? Oh Marek, we’ve wanted to tell you, not that it’s our place, but….”
He smiled, then led Lynne back to her chair. He pulled his closer, then sat beside her. “What matters is conveying that Eric is all right, which might assist Seth’s recovery. If he’s told Laurie who he thinks this hawk is, Laurie won’t believe him, and that behooves no one.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that.” Lynne reached for a napkin in the middle of the table, then blew her nose. “There’s something else that’s on my mind. It’s about those children in Colorado. I told Sam today that he should keep an open mind, although he and Renee are waiting to receive information from the orphanage up north. My goodness,” she sighed, dabbing at her eyes. “So much is happening, it’s hard to keep up with it all.”
“I agree. How are you feeling
?”
“Pregnant,” she shrugged. Then she giggled. “The baby moves all the time. Jane did too, it’s reassuring. But I miss him and I know he misses us and….” She reached for another napkin, but Marek gave her his handkerchief. Lynne used it, then balled it up, again dabbing at her eyes. “I just wanna tell Laurie the truth. The last I heard from him, Seth was, oh my goodness, in such a bad way. Did you write to him?”
“I did, but other than offering my prayers, there was little to say.”
“My letters have been about the same, well, I tell him about Jane and the baby.” Lynne set her hands on that bulge. “I’m trying to be patient, but the longer this goes on….” She glanced at the counter. “You didn’t expect her response, I mean, if she’d been anyone else, that would’ve sufficed. But she’s not just anyone else.” Lynne brushed away a few tears. “You know better than anyone how short life can be. Look at that couple in Colorado, or Fran Canfield’s twins. If it was me, I’d write back. Maybe give her a week, but there’s something she’s not telling you. Why did she need to know if Jane was your child if she has her own son? That doesn’t make sense to me.”
Marek patted Lynne’s hand. “Thank you for your, how did you say it, feminine perspective. Perhaps I’ll give it a little time. And maybe I’ll reread it, see if my Polish is rusty. Perhaps I missed some key element.” He smiled. “Or maybe I’ll read it to you, see what you hear in between the lines.”
Lynne laughed. “My Polish is very poor.”
“Perhaps, but you have a way of hearing what others don’t, the way Eric sees so well. And maybe,” Marek said with a grin, “it’s time for Mr. Abrams to learn a rather intriguing truth.”
Lynne stared at her pastor. “Are you gonna tell him?”
“No, but I’m going to pray for enlightenment, for all of us. And for the New Yorkers to again be together, just as I pray for you and Eric to be reunited. As you said, life is short. Love is meant to be shared with our intended partners, regardless of differences between us.”
“Like hawks and humans,” Lynne smiled.
“Something like that.” Marek gazed at the letter. “Shall we pray together?”
Lynne nodded. “Isn’t it when two or three are gathered, Jesus is among us?”
“Oh yes.” Marek bowed his head and Lynne did the same. The missive was brief but stirring. After saying Amen, Lynne grabbed another napkin as Marek stood, placing the letter in his back pocket. Then he took a cookie from the plate, saying he would return with Jane. Lynne smiled, breathing deeply. If Laurie reached out with a most curious query, she would speak the truth. And Lynne hoped if both Marek and God were willing that Mrs. Henrichsen would do the same.
Chapter 133