No one heard from Lynne all day on Saturday, but Stanford called the Snyder residence several times. Renee wanted to, but Sam wouldn’t let her, not even after Stanford rang them, asking if Lynne and Eric were all right. Sam lied right through his teeth, shocking his wife at how easily untruths slipped from his tongue. But after Sam hung up, he developed a miserable headache, and Renee spent much of Saturday night nursing her husband.
On Sunday morning, Sam and Renee went to an early Christmas Eve mass, where both lit candles for Eric and Lynne, also reciting the rosary for that couple. Now Sam was showing anxiety, although he said little to his wife. But Renee saw how he wrung his hands while he prayed, and how aged he appeared, the same wrinkles Lynne had worn late on Friday now evident on Sam’s face. Renee begged her husband to drive over to the Snyders, but Sam refrained, going straight home.
At noon Pacific Time, Laurie Abrams called the Aherns, wishing them a merry Christmas, and asking about Eric. Sam finally permitted a crack in his armor, explaining that Eric had come home a few days ago, but had contracted a bad cold. Renee was glad some of the truth was out. She considered that only half of the story, because for all they knew, Eric might very well have died, although some part of Renee felt he was still fighting, otherwise Lynne would have called. But Renee wasn’t certain that even if Eric was still battling would he claim a victory.
She based her doubts on practicalities. She had never seen such an emaciated patient; had Eric even eaten during those four weeks? His fever, peaking at one hundred five, had been the worst symptom. Even if he came out of it, permanent mental impairment could be a result, seizures sometimes a side effect. Lynne knew all this too, but for some reason she was eschewing normal medical procedures. Renee gripped her water glass, then stared at the window above the kitchen sink. Perhaps Lynne had picked up whatever Eric had; maybe she was in as bad of shape as her husband, maybe….
Sam stepped into the room, and Renee stood, embracing him. “Are you okay?”
“If we don’t hear from them by three, I’m going over there.”
Renee nodded. “Well, thank the lord. How’d Laurie sound?”
“Worried as hell. I could hear Stanford in the background, not sure if they were at Laurie’s place or what, but I suppose that was best. Laurie doesn’t have to call him and repeat it over the phone.”
Sam sat down, and Renee did too. They held hands, sharing squeezes. Then Sam sighed. “Look, I can’t wait until then.” He stood, then glanced on the counters for his keys.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do. I don’t care if she’s mad, it’s been a day and a half and….”
The phone rang, causing Sam and Renee to jump. They hurried into the living room, and Sam answered it. “Hello?”
He nodded, mouthing It’s Lynne to his wife. “Uh-huh, well, okay. Are you sure?”
Renee watched as Sam didn’t seem any younger, those lines deeply etched into his forehead like he would have those wrinkles for the rest of his life. His voice lowered, and again Renee felt sick to her stomach. “All right, well, if you change your mind, we’ll be home all day. Well yeah, we’ll be at mass tonight, but we’ll go straight home after that. Uh-huh. Okay Lynne, sure. Give him our love.”
As Renee heard that, she inhaled deeply; Eric was still alive. But Sam’s tone had seemed appropriate for a funeral; why wasn’t Lynne taking her husband to a hospital? As Sam closed the call, Renee itched to get into the car, then head to the Snyders, regardless of what Lynne wanted. Or Eric, if he was conscious enough to make decisions. They certainly wouldn’t be rational, and that was the first thing Renee said to her shaken husband.
Sam nodded, then motioned for the sofa. Renee led him there, and both sat with a plop. “I agree, but Lynne asked us specifically to just stay put. I think she must’ve assumed we were about ready to drive over there and….”
“This’s crazy Sam!” Renee started to cry. “Eric needs proper medical care, I don’t give a hoot how Lynne thinks she can nurse him back to….”
Sam stroked his wife’s trembling hands. “Honey, we have to respect her wishes about this.”
“No and I mean it.” Renee stood, stomping her feet. “If you won’t drive over there, I will.”
Sam stood, grasping his wife’s hands, which were balled into tight fists. “Renee, this’s about more than Eric’s health.”
“What else is there?”
Sam opened Renee’s left fist, then laid her palm against his heart. “I could hear it in her voice. She’s being asked to trust and we can’t impede.”
Renee’s eyes went wide, her coloring ashen. “Sam, oh no, not now! She’s pregnant and, and….”
“And we have to just seek his will honey. That’s what she said she was doing, or was in the process of doing, and we can’t interfere with that. But there is something we can do.”
Renee was weeping so hard, she couldn’t stand. Sam led her to the carpet, where on their knees he held her. Once she had calmed, he clasped her hands, then bent his head to where their brows nuzzled. He began reciting The Lord’s Prayer, followed by the Nicene Creed. The Aherns remained in those prayerful positions until Renee mentioned she had to use the toilet. Sam helped her up, then waited his turn. When he emerged from the bathroom, Renee was sitting on their bed, rosary beads in her hands. Sam collected his, and they returned to their prayers until it was too dusky to see. But the dark didn’t dissuade them; they ran their fingers along familiar beads, seeking God’s mercies and healing.
Stanford and Laurie spent that afternoon in bed, alternating lovemaking with discussions, some of which touched upon how many times Stanford had tried ringing the Snyders to no avail, and Laurie’s one successful call to the Aherns. Stanford wanted to try Eric again, but what good would it do, he railed. Laurie countered that at least they knew Eric was home, although unwell. Thank God Sam Ahern had answered his phone, Laurie said softly, tracing the crows’ feet along Stanford’s eyes.
Then Laurie broached more intimate notions, and Stanford allowed that distraction. It was easier to make love than consider why Eric was being so cagey, or Lynne for that matter, although if Eric was that ill, perhaps she had been too busy caring for him to pick up the phone. Yet, how many times had Stanford rung, and every single call had been ignored. Disregarded, Laurie had countered, as if that man was in Stanford’s head, again contradicting Stanford’s dismal mood. Then Stanford forgot all about the Snyders, as a wave of pleasure engulfed him. “Merry Christmas,” Laurie murmured. “I love you.”
Stanford couldn’t halt a deep chuckle. “Happy Hanukkah. I love you too.”
Laurie laughed. “That was weeks ago.”
“Still counts when you do things like that.” Stanford released a pleased sigh. “I hope….” He paused, then shook his head. “Why did I let myself get this attached to him, to both of them? I broke a cardinal rule and now….”
“Rules are made to be broken Stan.”
Laurie’s tone was light, and Stanford smirked. “Some, but not all. And that was a biggie. If my father wasn’t such a pushover about grandchildren, he’d, well, he’d….”
“He liked them from the start. And he was close with some of his clients too, if I remember correctly.”
But not this close, Stanford didn’t say. Not that he was in love with Eric, it had nothing to do with romantic notions, only the deepest platonic friendship that Stanford had ever permitted to develop with any of his clients. And contrary to Stanford’s usual reticence around women, those feelings extended to Lynne, and what now truly irritated Stanford was how he had started to fret about the couple’s baby. Stanford wasn’t close to his own nieces and nephews, but for the last week, he had pondered how Eric’s absence would affect the series he was painting of Lynne, or that was how Stanford initially considered it. Then two nights ago, he had dreamed about visiting the couple, who was no longer only a couple, but to Stanford’s horror, the baby clung to Sam Ahern, as if Eric’s time a
way had created a gulf between father and…. Stanford hadn’t remembered the infant’s gender, but he had been so relieved to stir, finding that drama was only a figment within his head. But again last night the dream returned, only now the baby seemed especially fond of Uncle Stan, as Laurie had christened him, and Stanford was equally smitten with an infant who cooed in Stanford’s able grasp. Stanford had rarely cradled babies. Children had never been a consideration; he wasn’t like his grandfather in that respect.
From the beginning, Stanford had been up front with Laurie about that issue. Laurie hadn’t cared one way or another, and their sisters’ offspring had sufficed when Laurie was feeling paternal. Now Stanford couldn’t get that baby from his mind, as he sat up in bed, wringing his hands together. Was Eric truly all right? Stanford hadn’t been able to discern Sam’s voice through the receiver, but Laurie said he seemed okay. If something was dreadfully wrong with Eric, Sam would know. Or more rightly, Sam wouldn’t have been home; he would have picked up the phone at the Snyders’ house. But no one was answering there; maybe Lynne and Eric were in exactly the same place as Stanford and Laurie, but not because Eric felt poorly.
“What’re you thinking?” Laurie broke the quiet. “Stan?”
“Maybe they’re just, well, you know.”
Laurie smiled. “Maybe. If he’d been away a while, a weekend in bed together isn’t the worst place to be.”
“But why wouldn’t he have called me, I mean….” Stanford rolled onto his side, staring at Laurie. “He knows we know, I mean, okay, maybe he’s tired, or sick, or both. But I’m sure Lynne told him I wanted to speak with him. I just don’t get it.”
Laurie took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Why didn’t Seth call me before he tried to kill himself?”
Stanford flinched. “That’s not the same and you know it.”
“But how you’re feeling is just like how I felt, left behind, even if logic dictates differently. We know they’re not thinking straight, I mean, that man made Eric’s childhood a living hell, something you and I could never understand. Yet, that man was also his father. We can’t begin to comprehend how Eric or Seth are supposed to react to those sorts of….”
Stanford bolted upright. “They are not at all the same situations Laurie. Seth was an adult when he went to Korea and Eric was just….”
A wave of nausea caused Stanford to clutch his stomach. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out how a little boy had been so brutally abused, but the images didn’t go away. Stanford never imagined what Seth had seen or done in Asia, nor did Stanford project any of that horror onto Sam Ahern. “Laurie, I cannot talk about this, all right?”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that we love them and….”
“I do not love Eric Snyder!”
Laurie’s chuckle was gentle at first, but as Stanford got out of bed, grabbing his robe, Laurie began laughing. “You do too, you big softie. You love Lynne as well, not that I’m jealous of either one of them.”
Stanford wagged his finger in Laurie’s direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, damnit. I love you, although sometimes I do wonder why.”
Laurie also got out of bed, but didn’t bother with clothes. He stood in front of Stanford, caressing his face. “I’ve never seen you look so old, but in the last two weeks, you’ve gained several new wrinkles here and here and….”
“Stop that.”
Laurie smiled. “Thank God it doesn’t look like you’ve lost any more hair, just added these lines. What you wanna bet Sam Ahern has some of the same?”
Stanford glared at Laurie. “Oh, is he in love with Eric too?”
Laurie had a belly laugh. “Nope. You both just admire the hell out of him, but not for the same reasons. Sam and Eric are like brothers, close brothers. God, if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were like Seth and me.”
Stanford had been ready with another retort, but he stopped himself. “Oh Laurie….”
“It’s true. That’s how I know Eric’s all right, I mean, that he’s not dead or anything. Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep something of that magnitude from his voice. Not that Eric’s perfectly healthy. Sam sounded….” Laurie paused, then kissed Stanford.
“He sounded what?” Stanford asked after ending the kiss.
“He sounded concerned, but not depressed. There’s a difference, God knows I’ve heard it enough from Aunt Wilma and Mom. And I hear it from you, over Eric. You’ve been worried about him since the beginning of the month, not the way I am with Seth, or how Sam is over Eric. But don’t stand there and tell me you don’t care about Eric, or Lynne, or their baby. Don’t do that Stan, because I won’t buy a single word of it.”
Stanford trembled, but Laurie steadied him, then led him back to bed. Stanford remained in his robe, but Laurie lay close to him, as Stanford nodded, but didn’t speak. “It’s okay,” Laurie crooned, as Stanford continued nodding, tears slowly rolling along his cheeks.
The Aherns left for midnight mass much later than they usually did. That was due in part to a phone call from Laurie Abrams, which caught both Sam and Renee by surprise. Yet, they only managed to take the call because they had been loitering at home, hoping to hear something from Lynne.
That Laurie had rung still stunned Sam, who sighed as he locked their car three blocks from St. Anne’s. The parking lot had been full as it seemed that on this particular Christmas Eve every Catholic within fifty miles had decided to attend mass, for not a single open parking space could be easily located. Sam said aloud that he was grateful it wasn’t raining, or God forbid, icy. In fact, he mused, nearly jogging with Renee at his side, the frigid temperatures of the last few days seemed to have abated. Laurie had again wished them a merry Christmas, laughing softly that New York was being encased by a blanket of snow. Sam had wondered why the art dealer was awake so late at night, but perhaps a New York Jew, even when noting the holiday, remained on metropolitan time.
As Sam expected, no seats remained, but a gentleman their age offered his folding chair to Renee. She sat next to the man’s wife as Father Riley began the liturgy. Sam didn’t recognize any of the parishioners who stood reverently, but all were welcome, for their hearts were akin. Sam wished that Eric was nearby, Lynne seated beside Renee, but he put them from his mind, concentrating on the reason for this gathering, so many wishing to rejoice under one roof.
It was a carol service, as well as mass, and Sam sung loudly, matched in tune by the newcomers. Renee’s voice blended well with the women near her, and Sam closed his eyes, letting their tones soar to the top of the church. The music overhead mixed with various fragrances; the fellow next to Sam reeked of cigarettes, reminding Sam of the VA hospital, which then led him to consider Seth Gordon. Sam didn’t let that name bother him, for soon Seth would be on his way west, getting the best care Sam thought possible.
As the readings commenced, Sam tried unsuccessfully to push Seth from his head. Had Seth attended Sabbath services during his tour? Laurie didn’t seem like a pious Jew; he loved Sam’s pork chops, and had he bothered celebrating Hanukkah earlier that month? Sam had seen something about it on the news, but at the time, he hadn’t thought about it much, too consumed with Eric to ponder a Jewish holiday. But that night, Laurie Abrams had made a point of wishing the Aherns a merry Christmas, and no, Laurie hadn’t sounded drunk. He had sounded rather peaceful to Sam, if not a little embarrassed for ringing at that very late hour.
And he hadn’t mentioned Eric, or Seth. Now that Sam thought about it, the call was quite odd, but then, the last few days had been strange, or maybe just depressing. Eric had come home, but Sam didn’t have a good feeling about it.
He wasn’t sure why, other than maybe he wasn’t trusting God as much as he should be. Perhaps that was the biggest niggle; Lynne seemed to be allowing Christ to do his work, but now Sam felt at loose ends. When Lynne had told them to leave on Friday night, Sam had accepted it, maybe because he had assumed Eric wasn’t going to make it, and Lynne needed pri
vacy to let him go without a fuss. But hours ago Lynne had finally made contact and Eric was still…. Maybe he was in that odd state that Sam had witnessed over a year ago, when Eric came home. For a few days Sam wasn’t sure if Eric would turn back into a man. A whole year ago, Sam mused, lost to the proceedings around him. Instead, he was back in the Snyders’ bedroom, staring at someone who wasn’t close to being human.
In the last twelve months, Sam had accepted Eric’s bizarre transformations as if he’d always known somebody that distinctive. He hadn’t blinked when seeing Eric step through the icy thicket, except for how thin Eric was. The feathers were nothing, then Sam shivered, yet, the church was warm from bodies pressed closely, from lit candles, from…. Hope, which Sam had always known deep in his heart since he could remember. And that hope had sprung directly from this place, well, his first church, but now any Catholic sanctuary provided Sam with that sense of optimism. It was like a second home, even in Korea, temporary quarters adorned with religious articles that traveled as easily as a field hospital or the mess hall. Every time Sam had stepped into what sufficed as a chapel, he knew Christ’s presence, along with inordinate calm. Well, most times. After Josh and Larry had died, Sam had to search for the peace. He’d found it eventually, on his knees, when calm had seemed most elusive. No matter what Sam had endured, God always brought him through.
As a brief sermon was delivered, Sam was lifted from his reverie. He glanced at Renee, who blinked away tears. His heart felt momentarily pinched, then a flood of warmth permeated his chest, and he smiled at her, allowing her to again face the altar. Even for what their marriage lacked, they had each other, she hadn’t left him. He hadn’t expected her to stay, although he’d never told her that. He’d never told anyone until last year, when Sam remarked upon it to Eric. But maybe Eric had been asleep when Sam said it, or not able to pay attention. Maybe that was why Sam had spilled as much as he had, assuming Eric wasn’t cognizant enough to process language.
What was Eric able to understand now, Sam wondered, as lines began forming for communion. What time is it, Sam mouthed to Renee, who was on her feet, although it would be ages before they needed to head that direction. She looked at her watch, then mouthed back Eleven forty-five.
That wasn’t possible, but glancing at his watch, Sam found it was so. Midnight mass had never gone so quickly, but then even last year Sam hadn’t carried so much on his mind. Eric and Lynne had accompanied the Aherns to this event, arriving in one car at ten thirty, taking their usual seats. Sam thought Lynne was getting very close to choosing this faith for her own, which pleased him, for the baby should receive a proper baptism, and that would be much easier to arrange if Lynne was Catholic, or on her way to becoming Catholic. Then he sighed, as Renee stood beside him. This time last year Sam had thought the worst was behind them. Now he wasn’t sure of anything.
“Honey, you okay?” Renee whispered.
Sam nodded, although that was as much of a lie as what he’d told Laurie hours ago. “We’re gonna be waiting another ten minutes at least. You can sit down again if you want.”
She shook her head. “Been sitting all day. Besides, you looked like you needed me.”
He smiled, then kissed her cheek. “That I do. Merry Christmas honey.”
“Merry Christmas Sam.” Renee snuggled against him, and Sam put his arm around her. Then he closed his eyes, hearing hushed murmurs, the buzz of youngsters asking if mass was over yet, and crying babies. That sound pierced Sam, but he remained dry-eyed, even if he wanted to burst into tears. Lynne and Eric should be there, they should be….
“Any room at the inn?”
“What?” Sam turned around, then almost screamed. “My good God, what’re you two doing here?”
He had thought he’d spoken softly, but over a dozen people turned around, all asking what was wrong. As Renee left Sam’s grasp to help steady a painfully thin Eric Snyder, Sam remained frozen, gaping at Lynne, standing on Eric’s other side. “What, I mean, why aren’t you home in bed?”
“I’m not quite dead, you know.” Eric’s voice was as weak as he seemed, although his smile was broad. “I told Lynne that either I was gonna get to church or die trying. And if I kicked the bucket here, at least they’d know what to do with me.”
“Sam, help me,” Renee huffed. “He’s thin as a rail, but he’s still too much for just me.”
Sam went to where Eric leaned against Renee, as Lynne also stepped back. Sam led Eric to an open seat, but Eric shook his head. “If we go up with you guys, what’ll Father Riley do?”
“Other than take a good look at you and send you back home, well….” Sam wanted to touch Eric’s face, but he didn’t look flushed. “He’ll bless you, I suppose. God knows you need it.”
A few people glared at Sam, but none of the faces were familiar, and he wouldn’t have cared even if they were. “Eric, what’s going on?”
“His fever broke this morning. But he didn’t wanna tell anyone, I mean….” Lynne’s voice quivered. “We wanted to make sure he was all right first.”
“I finished the pumpkin pie, and your soup,” Eric grinned. “I think I’ll be just fine.”
Now those around them were heading toward the altar. Renee started urging Sam that way, but Sam had a hard time moving forward. He stared at Eric, who seemed to have once again changed in a way Sam hadn’t dreamed. Two days ago he had lain near death. He was still very underweight, but as Sam placed his hand against Eric’s brow, no trace of fever remained.
“Let’s go get that blessing Sam.” Eric grasped Sam’s hand. “I’ve got so much to be thankful for.”
“We both do,” Lynne chuckled through tears. “He’s all right Sam, it’s gonna be okay.”
Sam stared at Lynne, then he blinked. Looking again, a radiant peace shone in her eyes. She reached for his hand, setting it on the bulge under her jacket. A steady thump beat against Sam’s palm, making him a little dizzy. Sometimes they come home rang in his head, but he wasn’t sure about the source of the message, other than of course it resonated from where he stood. But the voice was vaguely southern in tone, or was it that of a New Yorker, a Jewish New Yorker, Sam couldn’t help but wonder.
“Let’s go Sam. I want that blessing, then Lynne’s gonna take me home. You and Renee come over on Tuesday, ’cause I think after this I’m gonna sleep all day tomorrow.”
“We’ll celebrate the feast of St. Stephen,” Renee said in a teary voice.
“St. Stephen, sure.” Eric nodded. “As long as St. Stephen likes boysenberry pie. Sam, whatdya think of that?”
With Eric’s arm linked within the crook of Sam’s elbow, Sam stepped to where the last person waiting for communion stood. Renee was right behind Eric, as Lynne flanked Sam, who didn’t need to speak to Eric’s query. When they reached the priest and his assistants, Sam didn’t kneel, keeping Eric upright. The men’s wives also remained on their feet, as two blessings were given, communion taken. But the Aherns didn’t stay for the rest of the service, escorting the Snyders to their car, parked in front. A space had opened up, Eric remarked, just as Lynne pulled into the lot. Sam wasn’t surprised, and as he helped Eric into the front passenger seat, Sam wondered if anything could shock him now.
But before Sam could shut Eric’s door, Eric motioned for Sam. He knelt in front of Eric, who still wore that bright smile. “If you see Father Riley, ask him if he takes couples, you know, in catechism classes, or if Lynne and I need to sign up separately.”
Sam’s heart raced. “Are you serious?”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? I shouldn’t be, in a rational man’s world, but what the hell?”
Sam glanced over at Lynne, who nodded. Then Sam found Renee squatting beside him. “Am I hearing what I think I’m hearing?”
“Go get some sleep Ahern. We’ll see you day after tomorrow.”
Eric sounded exhausted but certain. Sam stood, then helped Renee to her feet. Renee closed Eric’s car door, then she led her husband onto the curb. Lynne wa
ved goodbye, backing out of the space, while the Aherns watched, still stunned by Eric’s presence, and his news. It was Renee to tug on Sam’s hand, asking if he was waiting for the crush of parishioners. They could leave it to Eric and Lynne to approach Father Riley. At that moment all Sam wanted was to go home, have a whiskey, and fall into bed. Prayers would be said as those events occurred, and probably within Sam’s dreams too.
Chapter 47