On Friday morning Lynne woke alone, Eric’s side of the bed cool. She smiled, then grimaced, as nausea rolled through her. Then she giggled. This time, very little was unknown about pregnancy.
She got out of bed, put on her robe, then padded to the guest bathroom. The days had been so busy since Agatha asked if she was all right; how quickly had their last week of vacation gone, Lynne mused, as she didn’t throw up, but certainly felt unwell. And how differently was this confinement starting, in so many manners. She did wonder if she was carrying a boy for how rapidly she had fallen ill, or maybe her subconscious had been a powerful factor when Jane was in this state. Back then Lynne had never fathomed becoming pregnant. That concrete likelihood now altered a mother’s psyche as well as her body.
Lynne was eager to call Dr. Salters when they got home, but Lynne wasn’t at all excited about telling the Aherns. However, that anxiety was swept aside when she thought of informing Marek and Frannie. Then Lynne sighed, for how would Sam and Renee take this news? Then Lynne shuddered as she stepped from the bathroom, staring at the space where she and Eric had most likely conceived their second child. Never before had Lynne considered the Aherns as Sam and Renee. A wave of tears fell from Lynne’s eyes, hormones she permitted, alongside the sorrow of having lost contact with her best friend.
Lynne joined those in the kitchen; Stanford was gone as Lynne had imagined, but Laurie loitered, and he hugged her warmly, then offered his goodbye. Lynne smiled, pleased that he had waited for her, but while they shared a strong bond, it wasn’t the same as what she had known with Renee. Then Lynne gazed at Agatha; even that woman couldn’t take Renee’s place. As Agatha brought juice to Lynne, Lynne smiled widely. Agatha gripped her shoulder, then gently brushed stray hairs from Lynne’s face. Agatha was like a mother, for which Lynne was grateful.
Eric was tending to Jane, who seemed wholly unaware of all the changes. She seemed at home in this Manhattan apartment among those who adored her. Would Jane find urban life her calling? It had been where her parents were raised, different cities of course, but similar settings, then Lynne frowned. Eric had grown up in poverty, Lynne’s parents upper middle class. Jane would never want for anything, but she seemed flexible, then Lynne laughed. Jane was thirteen months old, she wouldn’t even be two when a sibling arrived. Tears again fell down Lynne’s cheeks and she glanced at her husband. Another baby was coming and how fantastic was that blessing.
As Lynne wiped her face, Eric assisted, smiling as he did so. Then he grasped her hand, such affection passed through his fingers. They hadn’t spoken about the baby much, but tender love had been made, and Lynne was ready to be within her own domain, although having meals fixed was a treat. Agatha set a plate of pancakes in front of Lynne and Eric released his wife’s hand. Then to Lynne’s joy, Agatha took a seat on Jane’s other side, like she was that girl’s grandmother. Then Lynne began to cry in earnest; how had she and Eric inherited all these relatives?
Only Jane noticed her mother’s tears and the little girl began to squawk. “Now you leave your mama alone,” Agatha said. “Gonna be more of that before it’s all over.”
“Indeed,” Lynne laughed, wiping her face. She took a deep breath, then exhaled, shaking her head. “Poor girl’s not gonna know which end’s up.”
“She’ll make do.” Agatha smiled, then motioned to Lynne’s breakfast. “But you eat before it gets cold.”
Now Eric chuckled while Lynne smiled, forking herself a bite of the delicious pancakes. Even the coffee smelled good, but she stuck to juice, as Agatha told Jane that she was going to have to share her mother. Lynne closed her eyes, again inhaling deeply. These warm moments would be pulled up to buffer the solitary times that were waiting for her at home.
Mother and daughter took a bath, then the Snyders went for a walk. Eric said that Stanford had finally mentioned the sketch of Agatha in uniform, the dealer trying to remain detached, but Stanford was clearly puzzled. Keeping his own voice flat, Eric said it had been Agatha’s idea. This had been before Laurie joined them and while Agatha had stepped away from the kitchen. Then Lynne asked how early father and daughter had been up. Eric smiled. “She was awake at six, but just laid in her bed, making little noises. At seven, we got up. I needed the coffee.”
Lynne nodded, then gazed at the busy traffic. They could have gone into the park, but this wasn’t meant to be a long outing. Laurie was coming home for lunch, with only one appointment left for his day. “Has Laurie said anything about the sketch?” Lynne asked her husband.
“He doesn’t need to. Stan’s the one who needs convincing.”
“Do you think he’ll say yes?”
Eric shrugged. “I think he’d like to, but….” Eric pulled the stroller next to a building, allowing passersby to get around them. “He’s had a lot to take in over the last four weeks.” Then Eric smiled. “I’ll just leave that sketch here, let him mull it over. Unless he says differently,” Eric added. “Truthfully, it could go either way.”
Lynne nodded. “Well, you have plenty to keep you busy when we get home.”
“Oh yes I do.” Eric kissed her, then deftly set his hand on her belly. “If Sam’s up for posing, terrific. If not, I’ve got more work than what time will allow.”
Lynne shivered, but not from the April breeze. Spring in New York had been pleasant, but now she desired their western climate. Or maybe just their property. Eric would use the studio to create his series based on their stay in Queens, but how many paintings would commence in the sunroom, Lynne wondered, while Jane napped in the nursery?
For all the traffic and people in the most bustling metropolis on the planet, right then Lynne felt it was simply her husband, baby, and herself. Eric stood close to her, Jane in the stroller between them. Then a rush of mild nausea made Lynne inhale sharply, also rousing her smile. Tears followed, which stirred her giggle. She hadn’t been so soppy with Jane, but uncertainty had held her back. This time only joy would reign.
She didn’t think about whether or not Stanford would permit Eric to sketch him and Laurie, she didn’t ponder the Aherns. Here she was in New York City with all the family she needed. Eric whispered that sentiment, making his wife laugh. Lynne nodded, then prayed. Then she kissed her husband on the mouth, feeling no shame at all.
As the Snyders shared lunch with Laurie and Agatha, Sam Ahern had breakfast with his father. Joe had started coming over in the mornings while Renee worked half days. The last two nights Joe and Marjorie both had visited, but that evening it would only be Sam and Renee. Sam had told his folks to come over on Saturday night, that maybe Sam might be up to cooking. But he didn’t want his parents there when Renee came home. That day Renee was stopping at the Snyders to check the mail as Ted had a funeral over which to preside and Henry was busy.
Sam had nearly asked his dad to drive to the Snyders’, but then an excuse would need to be concocted, and Sam didn’t have the energy or desire to lie to his parents. For the last two weeks, Ted and Henry had fulfilled Sam’s housesitting duties, leaving Renee free to concentrate on her recovering husband. None of the Aherns had questioned that, but they might have raised eyebrows if Joe had to drive across town when Renee worked only a few minutes from where the Snyders lived. And all Renee had to do was pick up the mail; Ted had checked the plants yesterday, Henry having stopped there the day before that. Sam wondered how Eric would even have time to paint Sam’s portrait what with all the correspondence which had accumulated. Maybe it wouldn’t be until summer that Sam would have to bite that bullet.
But he did feel bad that Renee was standing in for him today, although he said nothing of the sort to his dad. Joe wanted to talk baseball, for which Sam was relieved. The men discussed if Carl Yastrzemski would pick up where Ted Williams had left off, but neither man spoke of their team winning the pennant. A record of seven and six that month wasn’t a bad start, but The Curse of the Bambino had haunted Boston for so long, a winning season was too much to contemplate.
Sam had fixe
d that morning’s eggs and toast, and his appetite was returning. For the last few nights, his parents had brought dinner, and enough leftovers waited in the refrigerator that all Renee would have to do is reheat their meal on the stove. Then Sam grimaced; he might handle that task, depending on how she was when she came home. But he hadn’t asked her to actually step foot inside the Snyders’ front gate. All she had to do was….
A chill ran up Sam’s back, how long had it been since Renee had even been at Eric’s house? A few months, which made Sam inwardly tremble. He understood his wife’s trepidation, for he’d suffered the same when Eric was gone all those weeks in 1960. Sam shook his head. Then he gazed at his father, who wore a quizzical face. “Something wrong son?” Joe said softly.
Sam sighed, then smiled. “Just thinking about Yastrzemski. Maybe he’ll have a good year.”
Joe chuckled, then sat back in his chair. “Well, he’s got big shoes to fill. Nobody’s as good a hitter as Williams.”
Sam nodded, but considered a few other players with that sort of talent. None of them were Red Sox, he smiled to himself. “Yup, he’s in a class all by himself.”
The conversation continued, even if both men had finished their meals. At ten thirty, Joe made his excuses and Sam walked outside with his dad, the day pleasant. Sam had spent most of the last two weeks indoors, and the sunshine felt good on his face. He took stock of the front yard; Henry had mowed a few days back, the flowerbeds were vibrant. Trees along the street were getting leafy, the scent of new life heady. Sam smiled, he couldn’t help it. He’d felt so miserable and was still a little weak. Whatever had hit him had certainly done its job, but he wondered the purpose of that illness. Maybe to reaffirm familial ties with relatives he didn’t see as much as others. Joanie had come by a few days ago, now assured that Sam wasn’t contagious. Fran had offered, but Sam had said he’d see her soon enough. Better that Helene wasn’t around Renee.
As Joe got into his car, Sam had to concentrate on the clipped green grass, inhaling deeply for any lasting fragrance of Henry’s handiwork. There was none, but Eric would have plenty to do at his place. Sam waved at his father, who had no idea of all that Sam had meant to accomplish; it wasn’t merely about collecting the mail. But Sam hadn’t let Henry or Ted use Eric’s lawnmower, enough that they had kept the indoor plants alive. Eric had specifically told Sam not to worry about that aspect, to just take care of himself. And Sam had done that, yet he fretted. He was feeling better, but Renee’s mood later on was another matter.
At four thirty, Renee said goodnight to Vivian. Vivian wished her a happy weekend and Renee smiled, then quickly offered the same. Then Renee headed to the back office door. The Bel-Air waited and she hurried to the vehicle, wishing to run this errand as fast as possible.
She had been so grateful to Ted and Henry, never wondering if Sam had needed to give any reason other than she was torn between caring for her husband and patients at work. Neither man, when she saw them, had raised their eyebrows at her, so Renee felt her secret was safe. Not even Marek Jagucki had hinted at any possible motive for Sam’s brothers to check on the Snyders’ home. His visit on Tuesday had been most enjoyable, making Renee nearly forget that she had ever confided him in before.
As she drove to the Snyders, Renee mulled over how her appointments with Marek had gone; she had said very little, except at the end. Her choice to discontinue their sessions had never been up for debate; Marek had accepted it with little fanfare, or at least outwardly he had raised no argument. On Tuesday, Renee detected no judgement on his part. Sam had been the pastor’s concern and Renee had stepped away from the conversation a few times, letting the men speak privately. She never later asked Sam about what she had missed, it had simply been a social call, just as Father Markham had then visited yesterday afternoon, offering Sam communion. Maybe that wasn’t as social as Marek’s visit, but priests and pastors ministered to their flocks as was necessary.
Suddenly Renee found herself driving right past the Snyders’ home. She sighed, then turned around, parking near the front gate. She got out of the car, walked to the mailbox, but to her surprise found very few letters. Ted and Henry both had noted the volumes of correspondence, which then Renee found stacked upon their coffee table. The stamps had always caught her attention, images and languages novel to her eyes. That day three envelopes waited and she huffed; they could have sat there for tomorrow when Ted would have collected them.
She closed the mailbox, then started back for her car. She’d driven the Chevy every day, as Sam felt it was wasteful for it to sit in the driveway. Renee had started to think of the new car as hers, which eased her mood. She stood beside it, admiring the lines, considering how much fun it was to handle. Driving the extra distance had actually been better than she imagined. Caught up in her thoughts, she’d passed right by Lynne’s house, and then Renee began to shake. She gazed at the front gate; behind that door sat an empty house. No one waited for Renee to come through; it was as if nothing existed past the walls.
That was how Renee had decided to imagine being here, if it had come to pass. And now that it had, she wondered if the strength of her imagination had erased the Snyders from existence. She smiled at herself, then again she trembled. Strange things happened behind this barrier. Stepping toward the front gate, Renee wondered if perhaps that large home had disappeared.
She didn’t ponder the impossibility of that idea, too lost in the wonder of where she stood. She was one foot away from entering a world that allowed the most unnatural events and she didn’t only consider Eric turning into a hawk. Behind this wall two men had shared the same bedroom. Past this barricade Renee had received a namesake. That made her heart ache and she shut her eyes tightly. Then she opened them, finding crumpled letters within her hand. She berated herself, then quickly walked back to the car. Stinging tears fell along her cheeks and she gazed at the postmarks, but couldn’t make out from where these had been sent. Yet now they were in poor shape. If more had arrived, Renee would have set them in the car, then driven away. How would she explain to Sam why they looked like she’d dropped them on the ground and driven over them?
She grew angry, then inhaled, a plan forming. If she took them inside, she could lay them under one of the stacks heaped on the table. Even though the Snyders were flying back on Sunday, it would be ages before Eric found these, and maybe they would have been pressed flat under the weight of so much correspondence. But Renee’s scheme hinged upon one enormous detail; she would have to walk through the front gate to get to the dining table inside the house.
Staring at the wrinkled letters, she prayed for guidance. Tapping her foot, she glanced at her car, then at the envelopes, then back to the car. Then she stared at that front gate. It was just a wooden gate, nothing scary about it. Clucking loudly, she marched straight for it. Ignoring her pounding heart, Renee pulled on the latch, then swung open the door. She blinked, and before she knew it, there stood the Snyders’ house. Renee took a deep breath, then let out it quickly. Sam had affixed Eric’s spare key to her ring last night. Renee shoved her hand into her pocket, removing her keys. They felt as if a leaden weight had instead been attached.
She hadn’t planned on using these keys, then she scowled at the crumpled letters. Sam hadn’t imagined he’d get so sick, Ted hadn’t dreamed one of his favorite parishioners would fall dead of a heart attack. Renee strode toward the front door, then stopped abruptly; the kitchen was too personal. Better to use the key for the French doors, if it worked, she allowed.
She got halfway around the house, then again she paused. She didn’t want to see that one glass pane. But before she could turn around, a host of brightly colored tulips caught her eye. She stared at the varied hues, waving in a soft breeze. Beyond those bulbs stood the fountain, but no water bubbled. Eric’s studio waited past that, his storage building to the right. Then Renee scanned the rest of the garden; clumpy sod had sprouted grass, the small lawn needed trimming. Boysenberries vines were leafy, as were tre
es, the whole scene like something out of The Secret Garden. But it wasn’t the plants that held the mystery, making Renee blink away tears.
Promptly she turned around, walking stiffly to the kitchen door. She opened it, not looking at the bare counters or table, marching into the dining room, where hordes of letters waited. Renee drew in a sharp breath; she hadn’t been prepared for this much mail. She exhaled, relieved for tall stacks under which she could carefully slide the crumpled notes. She spied one pile with some rather large manila folders at the bottom. Renee slipped her letters underneath those folders, then stood back, making certain that nothing toppled over.
Quickly she turned around, not wishing to see anything else. As she headed into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but scan the counters, just to make sure nothing was amiss. A note in the center of the table caught her gaze. She stepped toward it, finding the handwriting wasn’t Sam’s. It looked like Ted’s, and she peered more closely to confirm.
She nodded, it was from her brother-in-law, and said nothing more than Welcome Home. He had signed it Father Ted, making Renee giggle. She assumed Sam had let Eric know that his brothers were handling things and Ted had thought to offer Eric a small greeting. Then Renee whipped around as if someone was right behind her. All she saw was Jane’s high chair, set aside in the corner of the room.
Renee closed her eyes; for all the oddities this house permitted, that was the strangest piece. It wasn’t simply Eric and…. Lynne and Jane’s names beat in Renee’s heart, then hammered against her brain. All those letters were addressed to Eric, but he didn’t live here alone like some recluse, although one could wonder what with the tall walls. But those were to protect this family, hedging them in like a tangle of boysenberry vines. Renee shivered, then gazed back at Ted’s note. Welcome home, it read. The Snyders were returning, and soon. In two days, Renee knew. Two more days and….
She peeked around the corner of the kitchen doorway; those wrinkled letters wouldn’t benefit from where Renee had placed them, but maybe Eric would have the good sense to not question why they were creased. He might assume it was the postman’s fault, maybe they’d been damaged coming from overseas. Eric would have far too many other things to think about, like mowing the lawn or answering all those notes or painting Sam’s…. Renee frowned, then stepped to where letters were piled. Eric wouldn’t get to Sam’s portrait for a while. And that was good; Sam was still recovering. He didn’t need to pose for….
Carefully Renee gripped the side of the table; she didn’t want to disturb the stacks. If Sam posed for Eric, then Renee would have to…. But Sam had never said that, he’d never said any more to her than it was time. What exactly was it time for, or who, Renee then mused. She cracked her knuckles, then stared into the room, which opened up directly to the living room. Which through the far doorway led to the sunroom, from which bright light shone.
As if she was being beckoned from afar, Renee started walking toward the light. Her steps were slow, but not altogether unhindered. Yet she didn’t look at the furnishings, only to where light seemed to spill out like the sun blazed from that area of the house. As she reached the fireplace and sofa, she paused, having peered in that direction, as if assuring herself that indeed this was a home with which she was familiar. But the light was so stunning, Renee needed that touchstone. As she took in those items, she blinked, her heart beating so hard, she wondered if anyone else could hear it. But there was nobody else; Renee was alone, although she pondered that point too. Was there truly no other soul to witness how bright was this light?
She gazed into the sunroom doorway, squinting as she did so. Then she saw the reason; afternoon light was bouncing off the studio, directly into this space. She closed her eyes, then reopened them, amazed at the trajectory; did this hinder Eric when he painted? Then she was curious; she’d been here plenty of times, yet had never noticed how the light played off one building onto the main house. She gazed around the sunroom, empty except for collected dust. Lynne would have plenty of cleaning to do next week, Renee smiled, while Eric read the mail.
Renee turned around, finding how dark the rest of the home seemed. Her eyes had become so accustomed to the light, it took a few minutes for the rest of the house to appear as she expected. Yet, toys caught her attention, books and blocks and a few dolls, then she wondered how many new playthings would litter this home, all that Jane brought back from New York. Had Laurie taken Jane to that big toy store, and what about Stanford’s cook, and Michael Taylor and…. So many others now crowded out Renee, but that was for the best. She didn’t need another godchild, she didn’t need….
Light poured into the living room, swiftly moving past Renee, flooding the entire residence. But it wasn’t merely light; heat followed the brightness, swirling around Renee’s ankles, wafting upwards to her waist, her bust, her neckline. Then she was covered by warmth radiating from behind her, yet encompassing past her. If she moved forward, she knew that heat would also be there.
Instead she closed her eyes, remaining still. She prayed, asking God that if this was her time to go, to please let Sam know so that the next person to check on the house wouldn’t find a decomposing body in the middle of the Snyders’ living room. Maybe Ted would be best, he was a priest after all. But the warmth began to dissipate as she finished her petition, and by the time Renee opened her eyes, the light was gone, the heat along with it. Then she turned around; the sunroom looked as it always did, albeit in need of a good cleaning.
It took several rings for Renee to reach the Snyders’ telephone. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.
“Renee, thank God!”
“Oh Sam, I’m sorry.” She glanced at the wall clock; it was after six. “Oh honey, I’ve, uh, been cleaning.” Renee hadn’t even checked the time when she came in here for a broom and dustpan. “The sunroom was so messy, I didn’t want them coming back to such a disaster.”
“Well, thank goodness you’re all right.” Sam spoke slowly. Then he had a deep sigh. “So, are you coming home soon?”
Renee gazed at the kitchen floor, in need of mopping. “Yeah, I guess. There’s still plenty of work over here though.”
“Listen, we’ll get to it tomorrow. I’ve started dinner, aren’t you hungry?”
Her stomach rumbled as he spoke, which made her smile. “Well, now that you mention it. I just need to put away the broom.” And the dustpan and rags, she considered.
“Just leave all that for tonight Renee.”
Sam’s tone was plaintive and Renee nodded as if he stood in front of her. “Okay, sure. But I am coming over here tomorrow. Your brothers weren’t very careful in cleaning off their shoes before they came inside.”
“Yeah, sure. But drive safely, okay?”
“I will. I’ll be home in about twenty minutes.”
Sam sighed. “Okay. I love you honey.”
“Love you too Sam. Bye.”
Before he could answer, Renee hung up the receiver. Quickly she returned to the sunroom, sweeping up the piles, then dumping those into the garbage. Then she collected the dusty rags, setting them in the laundry room. She grabbed her keys from her pocket, then headed to the kitchen door. She locked it behind her, but dusk was falling. She would need to turn on the headlights to get home.
She went through the front gate, pulling it closed tightly. She walked around the car, but found she hadn’t locked it. Yet, she’d taken the mail inside, and her purse was safe on the floorboard. She got in the driver’s seat, inserted the key, starting the engine. She turned on the headlights, then gripped the wheel. Right before she pulled away, she glanced toward the gate. She could barely make it out now, darkness falling all around her. Had she actually stepped through that gate, she must have, for now it was night. Then she remembered that warmth, the light, and all that dust. She’d have to come back; no way could she let Lynne find all that accumulated dust. It would make Jane sneeze and…. Renee grasped the steering wheel with all her might. Taking a deep breath, she let it out as she dr
ove away. The Snyders wouldn’t be home until Sunday. Renee had one day remaining, then she’d never set foot inside that property again.
Chapter 106