1961 began on a Sunday morning, under a layer of thick cloud. Eric and Lynne started the new year by sleeping late, then rising slowly. By the time the coffee was done, snow was falling, and they spent most of that day in the living room, until the light grew too dim for Eric to see. Lynne lay on the couch, which had been covered by a flannel sheet, and Eric stood feet away, painting his naked wife, or making love to her. The sheet hadn’t merely been to protect the sofa from the spoils of passion, but from an artist’s template. Eric painted wearing only briefs, jeans, and socks. He slipped out of the jeans and underwear when the urge arose, but kept on the socks, making his wife giggle. Then he made her scream.
This was his first serious attempt at work since his return, but he had dabbled, on nice days, painting scenes from his trip. Those canvases had already been burned, as they weren’t landscapes, but images of where his father was incarcerated. Eric had painted half a dozen of them, then ripped jagged lines through them with a knife. Then he set those canvases on the pile of damp feathers Sam had collected, and doused it all with gasoline. A bright bonfire had burned three nights after Christmas, but the Aherns hadn’t been present. Eric called Sam and told him the feathers were gone, but neither Eric nor Lynne remarked upon the paintings that had accompanied. As far as the Aherns knew, Eric had yet to test his talent. Stanford Taylor had no idea either.
Those scenes had been stirring in Eric’s head, when he wasn’t in bed with Lynne or tackling simple household chores. He had wanted to purge those images, so he would be free to concentrate on a more beautiful subject, yet not as Lynne assumed he would paint her. But she didn’t care in what manner he chose to depict what they meant to each other. As she sat up on the sofa, she shivered, then smiled. “I need a bath so badly.”
Eric laughed. “I do too. You go first, while I clean up in here.”
She nodded, then stood, wrapping the sheet around her. “When can I see it?”
He smiled. “Another day, is that all right?”
“That’ll be fine.” She walked to the stairs, then turned back. “Eric?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. I’m so glad you’re….” She paused. “Working again.”
He chuckled. “I think you’re really gonna like it. And I can’t wait to show the Aherns.”
Lynne had taken two steps, then she whipped around. “What? You wanna show this to Renee and Sam?”
“Of course. I think it’ll knock their socks off. And I can’t wait for Stanford’s reaction. He’ll think that blue barn is passé after he sees this.”
Lynne wrapped the sheet more tightly around her bust. Then she grimaced, heading his way. Eric stopped her in the middle of the living room, kissing her left shoulder. “Go bathe Mrs. Snyder. I’ll let you see it tomorrow.”
“You better not have painted me sprawled out on the sofa. For God’s sake, that would be indecent!”
“Well, you are the wife of an artiste, are you not?”
She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. Then he pulled the sheet back from her chest. He stroked her skin, then groaned. “Maybe you can wait on that bath. If you take it now, you’ll just need to take another before bedtime.”
“Oh honey, what’re you doing, oh Eric!” Lynne dropped the sheet, as her husband’s affections increased. Then both were on the floor, mostly protected by the sheet, as love was made. But Eric kept his wife from viewing her portrait, making her cry in pleasure as he did so.
Two days later, Lynne spent the morning with Renee, who was off from work. Sam was at the VA hospital, and the women shared coffee in the Aherns’ kitchen. Lynne told Renee that Eric was finishing a painting, and that it was of her. Renee asked what Lynne had been doing, and when Lynne hemmed and hawed, Renee stared at her. Then Renee began to giggle. “Have you ever posed for him that way before?”
Lynne blushed, shaking her head. “It wasn’t hard to pose actually; I was on the sofa.” Then she chuckled. “But he says he wants to show it to you and Sam. I guess I’m warning you. And feel free to say no if you want. I certainly won’t mind.”
Renee laughed, then finished her coffee. “I’m sure it’ll be very tasteful.”
Lynne rolled her eyes. “I’m not so sure. I’m still trying to get paint off of me.”
Renee’s jaw dropped, then she sputtered in laughter. “Oh my God, are you serious?”
Lynne nodded. “I’m completely serious, but don’t you dare tell Sam I was so vulgar.”
The women giggled for several minutes. Renee loved hearing that lightness from her friend, whom she now considered a sister. She grasped Lynne’s hand, then squeezed. “I don’t think it’s at all distasteful. He loves you, and after all that’s happened….” Renee inhaled deeply. “I bet he’ll paint a whole series of you like that, and they’ll all be beautiful.”
“Well, thank goodness his next show will be the rest of the landscapes and me fully clothed.”
“Yes, and working so hard. Then the world will get to see the real Lynne Snyder.” Renee smiled, then released Lynne’s hand. “Unless you don’t want those shown.”
“To be honest with you, I don’t know, and I suppose I won’t until I see it. At least tonight I’ll know a little more than I do now. He said he’d have it ready by dinner, or afterwards.”
Renee poured them more coffee, then returned to her chair. “How is he, I mean, I haven’t seen him since Christmas.”
“He’s better, he’s….” Lynne hesitated, then sipped her coffee. But she didn’t elaborate.
Renee nodded. The Snyders had gone to midnight mass, and Christmas Day had been more carefree than Renee and Sam had imagined. But it had been over a week since then, and Renee had been eager for this ladies-only morning. Maybe Sam might stop by the Snyders after his work at the hospital, although, if Eric was putting the final touches on a nude painting of his wife, he might not ask Sam inside. Then Renee chuckled. “How about I see it before Sam? He’s not a prude, but he might feel awkward if it’s too detailed.”
Lynne smiled. “That’s a good idea. He watched Eric turn into a man, but that’s not quite the same.”
“No, it’s not.” Renee kept her tone jovial, but while Eric’s recuperation was going smoothly, Sam hadn’t quite recovered from last month’s harrowing events. He didn’t want Eric and Lynne to know, and Renee wouldn’t betray her husband’s request. Seeing Lynne Snyder nude might be slightly jarring, but it certainly wouldn’t harm Sam. Well, Renee thought to herself, he might blush.
Lynne turned the conversation to more mundane topics, and Renee was glad for that. It was nearly noon when Lynne said her goodbyes, and Renee walked with her to the car. Before Lynne could start the engine, Sam pulled into the driveway, and Renee wished either he had been late, or that Lynne was already gone. Sam got out, walking slowly. He had a headache, Renee could tell that from how he squinted. Lately he’d had several of them, a few nearly like migraines. He’d suffered from those right after he came back from Korea, but Renee hoped that these would fade, and that he wouldn’t need to see his doctor.
“Hello Lynne.” Sam’s tone was slightly strained, and Renee squeezed his hand. His grip was crushing; his pain was probably the same.
“Just leaving Sam. Shall I give Eric your best?”
“Oh please do.” Sam’s smile was forced. “But don’t rush off on my account.”
“I was all ready to start the engine. You take care now.” Lynne turned the key and was down the street before Renee could wave goodbye.
Sam took several deep breaths, and Renee steadied him. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Just wanna lie down, see if I can sleep it off.”
Slowly they walked to their front door, and Sam stepped inside first. Renee was right behind him, locking the door, and pulling the shades. Sam went straight into the bedroom, and Renee was on his heels, but the phone rang. “Go get it,” Sam said.
“They’ll wait.”
“It might be Eric. Renee, please answer it.??
?
“You’re in no shape to help Eric Snyder Sam. You can barely function.”
He motioned to the kitchen, and Renee rolled her eyes. “Men, huh!” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi Renee, how are you?” Eric’s chipper tone was loud, and Renee hoped Sam was already lying on their bed.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
Eric spoke quickly, but Sam had heard enough, as he now stood in the kitchen doorway. He stretched out his hand, as if to take the call, but Renee waved him off. “Well Eric, to be honest, Sam’s not feeling great and….”
Now Sam rolled his eyes, taking the phone from his wife’s hand. He spoke softly, and Eric matched his tone, for now Renee couldn’t hear anything Eric said. But Sam’s voice, while quiet, was clear. “Tonight? Uh, well, maybe. Yeah, I do have a little headache, sometimes the vets are a handful, you know? A painting, yeah?” Sam’s tone perked up. “Really? Uh-huh. Mmmhmm. Oh, of Lynne? Well, um, I, um….”
Sam looked at Renee, and she shrugged. Then she mouthed: It’s up to you. It’s a nude and…
“Well, Renee says she doesn’t have anywhere to be tonight and….” Sam’s voice was jovial, but his wife’s stoplight eyes flashed. Then Renee walked out of the kitchen, as Sam closed the phone call.
Sam found her sitting on the edge of their bed, and he joined her, grasping her hand. “Well, I guess we’re going to the Snyders tonight.”
“I guess we are.” Renee gritted her teeth. “And I guess you either didn’t read my lips or you can’t wait to see what Lynne looks like without any clothes on.”
Sam chuckled. “Oh, is that what you said?”
She glared at him. “You know that’s exactly what I said.”
“Well, that’s not what Eric said.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup.”
Renee tapped her foot, then crossed her arms. Then she glanced at her husband again. “How’s that headache Sam?”
“Not too bad. I could use some aspirin, a nap too, but actually it’s not nearly as awful as when I came home.”
“What’d he tell you? Because Lynne said it was definitely not the same kind of painting as he did of her before.”
“Well, Eric said….” Then Sam burst into laughter, which was cut short as he gently rubbed his temples. “Maybe I should take something honey. But don’t worry, I’ll be fine for tonight.”
Renee stood, shoving fists into her sides. “Sometimes I wanna slug you Sam Ahern.”
“Well, it’s been a while since you slapped me, maybe I’m due.”
She huffed, then started to stomp from the room. She got a far as the door, then she turned around. He still looked pained, but it wasn’t as debilitating as ten minutes ago. Then she rushed to where he sat, kneeling in front of him. “Sam, I’m sorry, oh honey, I didn’t mean….”
She flung herself into his lap, her red hair splayed out over his trousers. He stroked her head, patting her shoulder with his other hand. “Renee, it’s all right. Oh baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be flippant.”
She looked up at him, tears along her cheeks. “You need to take it easy. We can go over there another night. Maybe by then I’ll know what that painting is and….”
“And by then you might not let me see it.”
She stared at him, then smirked. “I don’t know what’s up with you Sam Ahern, you or Eric. What’s going on?”
“All he said is that despite what Lynne thinks, it’s not that sort of painting at all. Now, I don’t know what she told you, but Eric said even Fran could see it. Now, if Frannie can see it, it can’t be that lewd.”
Renee got up from the floor, again sitting beside her husband. “Are you sure that’s what Eric said?”
“As God as my witness.” Sam grasped her hand. “Listen, I’ll swallow some pills, get a rest, and we’ll go over there after dinner. He didn’t say anything about pie, but I bet….”
Renee shook her head, then shivered, even as Sam’s chuckle reverberated through the room. She patted their clasped hands, then stood, bringing him three aspirins and some water. Sam took the pills, then removed his shoes and trousers, getting into bed. Renee went to leave, then changed her mind. She didn’t take off her clothes, but slipped off her shoes, then slid under the covers, falling asleep beside her snoring husband.
As the Aherns napped, Eric painted in the studio, wrapped up well to avoid the chill. Lynne baked an apple pie, but didn’t disturb her husband, who came in at four o’clock, just as the light was fading. He brought in the painting, putting it on the easel in the living room. The canvas faced the wall, and Lynne didn’t mention it. Eric built up the fire, then they ate a light supper. Their words concerned the Aherns, and Stanford Taylor. That was as close as Eric came to talking about what waited in the living room.
Renee called at six, wanting to know when they should come over. Eric told her anytime was fine, and that an apple pie was on offer for dessert. Lynne could hear anticipation in Renee’s tone; was that from the pie or the painting? Eric seemed impossible to read, but he was especially affectionate, noting that as soon as the Aherns were gone, he wanted Lynne to pose for him, in their bed. She asked if he was going to sketch her, and he laughed, saying he wasn’t sure. Their banter was naughty, until twenty minutes later, when visitors knocked on the front door.
Eric answered it, and hugs were exchanged as coats were removed, wraps set over the kitchen chairs. Then the conversation abruptly stopped. Eric laughed at the silence, asking them to wait, while he prepared his first showing since last year.
“It’s gonna be a brief one,” Sam called.
Eric chuckled. “Well, you might need some time to form an opinion.”
The women smirked, as neither believed what Eric had told Sam over the phone, then reiterated in the kitchen, that even Fran Canfield would admire this portrait. Eric cleared his throat, then asked them to step into the living room. “And whatever you do, don’t speak immediately. Give it a few minutes to sink in.”
Lynne shook her head, leading the trio. She didn’t gaze at what sat on the easel, but at her husband, who wasn’t smiling, although joy radiated from his entire body. Then Lynne heard the gasps, Renee’s first, then Sam’s. Their faces showed awe and appreciation. Lynne glanced at Eric, who nodded, then pointed to the canvas. Then he joined his wife, putting his arm around her. “I love you honey. This is all I see when I….”
He finished the sentence in a private whisper, but the words didn’t make her blush. Instead she blinked away tears, as the depth of his feelings burst from wide brushstrokes and brilliant color. She stepped close to the canvas, but didn’t touch it, for in spots the paint was still settling. “Oh Eric, I don’t believe it.”
He smiled, kissing her cheek. “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. All I can do is show you, either in paint or in….”
She nodded, fully aware of the only other place she comprehended his love for her, but it wasn’t always their bed. It had been on the sofa, or the living room floor, and once the weather was pleasant, out in his studio. Then she giggled; they would have to be discreet while contractors renovated the house. But Lynne would brave the elements, and risk being seen in compromising positions, for she was the wife of a magnificent painter. Eric had exceeded himself, and again, she wondered just how he had done it.
Her hair was a luscious chocolate field, waiting to be sown. Her freckled skin had been transformed into dappled acres of shining wildflowers, waving in what appeared as a soft wind. Eric had taken great care to incorporate her smile as a swath of vibrant red poppies, her nipples as circles of light pink tulips. Her pubic hair was a small patch of freshly tilled earth, which trailed off into two more lengthy stretches of flora, mostly boysenberry vines, from the look of them. Lynne blinked, then stood back, not seeing herself, but a variety of plants, that if stared at long enough just might resemble a woman. Then she giggled. That was her, but unless the eye was discerning….
“Do you like
it?” Eric asked her.
She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. “And for your next trick?”
He chuckled, then kissed her. “You’ll be the first to know. Sam, Renee, what do you think?”
“I can’t believe it,” Renee said dreamily. “It’s Lynne, but it’s also the most luscious farm I’ve ever seen.”
Sam still hadn’t spoken, and Eric stepped his way. “I think it’s okay for your sister, I mean, you know her better than I do. She did let me sketch her while she nursed a baby, so I figured she wouldn’t mind something like this.”
A moment of quiet followed, then Sam gently slapped Eric’s back. “Are you gonna show this to Stanford before your next exhibit?”
“Uh, well, I hadn’t thought about it actually. You think I should?”
Sam nodded. “Indeed. That way he’ll get off my back about that barn painting.” Sam looked at Eric, shaking his head. “It’s beautiful, absolutely stunning.” Sam glanced at Lynne, then he quickly turned away. Then he chuckled, approaching her, grasping her hands. “I suppose I’ve seen the best of you and the worst of him. What more is there?”
“I guess you have. There really aren’t any secrets left now.”
Together they gazed again at the painting. Renee joined them, hand-in-hand with Eric. They flanked their spouses, noting the emerald forest behind Lynne’s hair, a lively blue river at her feet. But all were drawn back to her poppy smile, although Sam and Renee did steal peeks at her tulip breasts. Lynne was grateful for Eric’s tactful interpretation. It was a good start to her posing for him without any clothing in the way.
But it was just a beginning, she saw in his beaming smile, which spoke of more than relief for their appreciation. And to her surprise, she was eager to resume their sessions, wondering what else his fertile imagination and prodigious talent would produce. Then she looked at Sam, who quietly wept in Renee’s arms. She handed him to Eric, who led Sam to the sofa, as Renee motioned for Lynne to follow her to the kitchen. As the women readied dessert, the men spoke in low tones, but Lynne could hear Eric’s fervent apologies as Sam muttered that Eric didn’t need to be sorry, or to thank him, for anything. That was what Sam did for any of his brothers. Lynne fought tears as Renee started decaf, while the fire crackled, drowning out what else the men needed to say.
Chapter 26