Lynne drove herself and Renee to work, and it was during the ride home when Lynne mentioned that they might not make the Fourth of July. Or that Eric wouldn’t. Renee nodded, but didn’t comment. She did grasp Lynne’s hand, when Lynne stopped at Renee’s house. “If you need anything,” Renee started, but she couldn’t finish.
“He’s been busy painting, wants to get all of those family pictures done, but he might not. He did finish the one of Sam’s folks. It looks….”
“Wonderful, I’m sure.” Renee choked that out, then stepped from the car. “Tell him that we, that I….”
“He’ll be back, I have to believe that.”
“Oh of course, of course he will.” Renee smiled weakly, then closed the car door. She hurried to her porch, where Sam met her. She went right into his arms, and was being comforted as Lynne drove away.
For a few days, Eric worked non-stop, barely taking time to eat. How he could paint so quickly, he wasn’t sure, but others had worked with this much enthusiasm, Rembrandt for one, but Eric didn’t equate his talent with that master. Yet, by the end of June, he had finished all of the Ahern-Nolan family portraits, and had moved what he could into the house. He’d said to Lynne that with her still working, perhaps they could add on to the structure, fashioning more storage space, then he had hesitated, wondering what if he had another dry spell. But even so, they had the funds, and he spent a few days speaking to contractors, although now that summer was almost half over, plans were shelved until next year. The builder penciled in a start date for next April, and while the addition would eliminate some garden space near the house, Eric was pleased with the plans. The living room would be expanded to include a sunroom, which could double as a studio in the winter. The patio would be incorporated into a larger kitchen, and two more rooms on the second floor would sit over those new parts of the house. Eric was also adding a house bathroom downstairs, sandwiched in between the kitchen and living room, just a toilet and sink, but it would save them from running upstairs. Another coat closet was being considered, but Eric would think about that over winter. He had told Lynne that he would definitely be home by the time winter set in.
Not that they had severe storms, but he didn’t want to fly in the cold, like earlier in the year. He also didn’t want to fly alone, as the rest of the animal kingdom would either be bedded down or having migrated. He wanted to find his father, then return, hopefully before Halloween.
Lynne said little about the new house plans, but she did speak to Eric’s impending transformation. He hadn’t suffered any more symptoms, and she wanted to spend the Fourth of July with Samuel and Renee. It was on Monday, and she didn’t have to work. If Eric felt up to it, she would make a pie and….
They spoke of this in the living room, seated together on the sofa. It had been a long week at work for Lynne, some nurses taking their vacations coinciding with the upcoming holiday. Lynne had filled in two shifts on the labor ward, and while newborns were adorable, she never felt comfortable around their mothers, whether they were pros or just being initiated into a realm she would never join. Yet she had done her job, then come home, finding her husband in the studio, painting happy families teeming with kids of all ages. How did he do that, Lynne had wondered.
She didn’t ask, but smiled at him, also curious as to how his next absence would affect her. The weather wouldn’t be so unpleasant, that would make it a little easier, and there was no show over which to worry. Stanford wouldn’t call her, and Renee and Sam…. At least Lynne wouldn’t have to make excuses. If Sam had thought she was crazy, maybe he was right. Perhaps loving such a man was madness. Lynne leaned toward Eric. Then she curled into his lap, stretching her legs over the sofa. Eric stroked her hair with one hand, putting the other along her hip. She hadn’t told him where she had worked this week, it wouldn’t serve any purpose. Would searching for his father matter? Perhaps if Eric returned, then never altered again…. “I’m gonna miss you,” she said softly. “I’ll really miss this.”
“I will too.”
She looked at him. “Do you miss me? There’s so much for you to do and see.”
He bent over, kissing her tenderly at first, then with vigor. They only parted because breathing had become difficult, mostly for him. Then he sighed. “I hate sleeping alone, having to find food, but the worst part is….”
“Eric, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….”
He stroked her hair again. “The very worst is knowing you’re here alone, with no idea where I am. Funny, I never worry about you, but something could happen, a car accident or….” He smiled wryly. “I just assume you’re at work, or alone, and that always….” He cleared his throat. “It always makes me wonder why in the hell you’re even here when I get back. Who the hell did I marry Lynne, you must be a saint.”
“I guess I just really love you.” Her giggle was soft.
“I guess you must.” He chuckled. “Why don’t you call Renee tomorrow, tell her we’ll bring a pie on Monday. I’ve been feeling fine, maybe it was just indigestion.” He stretched his arms, then placed them around his wife. “No pain in my bones, I’m just not as young as I used to be.”
He chuckled again, but while Lynne smiled, she also shivered, hoping he didn’t feel it. What if years from now this still happened to him? Hawks lived upwards of a dozen years; might that limit Eric’s life span? She had never considered that, but then his previous absences had only been for a few days every three or four months. What would lengthy changes do to him, besides making the transformations back into a human more difficult to achieve. And what if one day….
What if he was gone for so long that he couldn’t make a full recovery? Lynne had found that once a woman had delivered her third or fourth child, she was back on her feet within the second or third day after the birth, unless it had been a cesarean or fraught with some other trouble. But like the new mothers, they remained in the hospital for several days, although for them, it was more like a vacation. They didn’t have to cook or tend to more than a new baby. They received well-wishers, and plenty of quiet, or it was a different sort of din, as one had said to Lynne two days ago. A newborn’s wails were nothing like the racket made by a ten, eight, and six-year-old.
Lynne had never thought about that, and she’d left the labor ward with a new perspective. Those experienced mothers enjoyed the hospital routine, chatting with women they knew, or perhaps not, but they shared a bond, and gave practical advice to new moms, who were often weary and in pain. Their babies lessened some of the discomfort, but childbirth wasn’t easy, and Lynne had also been struck by a small relief never before realized. Perhaps Eric underwent extreme alterations, but Lynne never would.
“Honey, Lynne?” Eric leaned over her again, kissing her forehead. “Baby, you tired?”
She was, but that didn’t account for her stillness. Maybe his life span wouldn’t alter, and they would grow old together, but it would just be the two of them. Yet, that wasn’t so bad. Lynne wouldn’t suffer through months of discomfort, then hours of agony, even if modern medicine intervened. And if Eric’s sojourns returned to those of previous, then he would be back after only days, which would seem like blips. And if one day Eric ceased to transform into a hawk, they could live like most other couples, except for their hushed domain. And Lynne could manage that. She had no choice in the matter.
Neither she nor Renee talked about adopting children; not every woman was meant to be a mother. They had married exceptional men, who required all of their focus, when they weren’t earning a living. Well, Lynne had married under those auspices. Renee and Sam had never expected to be childless, but who could assume anything anymore? Having grown up under the cloud of World War II, all four adults knew relative safety, but some privation, and it was nothing when compared to what those overseas had suffered. Lynne had gone into nursing because it was a useful, honorable profession. She hadn’t wanted to serve in Korea; she had wanted to care for patients, and for her husband. And sometimes her husband needed mo
re assistance than those in the hospital.
“What if when you come back, what if….” She didn’t want to say it, much less think it, but what if he took even longer to recover, and what if he didn’t fully make it? Then she shook her head. “Eric, you’re right, I’m exhausted. Maybe we’ll just spend the weekend here, Monday too. We’ll get lots of sleep and….”
“Lynne, I’ve thought about that. And to be honest with you, I don’t know, and I probably won’t until it happens, if it happens. But honey, I can tell you this. If the day ever comes that I’m a freak of nature, or a visible freak, I won’t ask you to stay, I won’t want you to….”
She sat up suddenly, then put both of her palms against his cheeks. “Eric, I will never leave you.”
She recalled how he had appeared, stepping from the thicket, his skin yellow, and in places covered in feathers. They had littered his hair, which she now tousled. He had barely been able to speak, and what he could say had been in ordering her to leave. She stared into his eyes, warm and full of love. Would he allow her take care of him if something awful happened?
Some of those experienced mothers didn’t permit the nurses to fuss over them unless they had endured long labors. A few treated the staff as an afterthought; they had gone through the process many times, and knew their bodies. Lynne didn’t mind them telling her to check on someone else; their voices weren’t harsh, only truthful. And sometimes, late in the day, they would let her ease them into bed, or take their crying newborns back to the nursery so they could get valuable rest. Once they left the hospital, sleep would be at a premium.
Might Eric dismiss her, and not as tactfully as those moms? Maybe he would forget who she was, in such an addled state that he knew to come home, but that was all he recalled. Maybe his body would become human again, but his mind remaining that of a predatory creature; he turned into a wild animal, even if instinct had brought him back to their home. He’d said that at times he had forgotten he was a man, but always he was on a path to this house.
No matter how Eric did or did not transform, Lynne was bound to him. She kissed his lips, then parted hers, the exchange becoming more intimate. She understood his desires to add onto their home, he wanted to spend the spoils of his work, and he wanted to paint her, but not making pies or gardening. Would she acquiesce to his wishes, well, perhaps within their home she would be more forthcoming, despite the season. He was a prolific artist, painting with amazing speed when his mind and body were fully engaged with whatever fueled his talent. He had painted the Aherns and Nolans with as much care, and swiftness, as he had painted the hawks and other landscapes, and her. Eric painted his wife like she was an extension of his vista, but Lynne had seen the differences between the paintings of Sam and Renee’s families and those Eric had done of her. Those of the artist’s wife seemed as if a veil remained, and no one could remove it.
He had asked about exhibiting some of her portraits, and she had agreed, for she was fully clothed, and rarely looking at the artist. Her eyes were cast on a pie crust, or toward flowers, or on her knitting. Only in a few had she even tried to meet his gaze, and it was those that he wanted to show, even if they too felt distant. Everyone had an opinion about what was inside that barn, but no one would dare guess what Lynne had been considering.
But she knew, and it was always the same; she ached to have some way to keep him there, with her, as her husband, as a man. Perhaps that was why Eric had deliberately made her appear hazy, although her form was never blurry. How he did that, with color and shadow, never failed to amaze her. His eyes were just as sharp now as months ago, when he’d been traversing the landscape. Yet, his improved vision translated not in seeing through the thicket or their house, but in dissecting people. And thank God, he had gone easy on her. Everyone else was revealed in an Eric Snyder portrait, all but the artist’s wife.
Only he knew her deepest fears, that he wouldn’t return at all. Only he understood her greatest joy, every time when he came home, then made love to her. As he prompted that gesture on the sofa, Lynne smiled, then lay back on the cushions, as Eric unbuttoned her blouse. She had worn no bra after coming home from work, dressing casually, hoping to entice her husband. Within their property, at a private moment, Lynne could be very forward, and she didn’t mind how he slipped her skirt from her hips, along her legs, then from her feet. Then he removed his shirt and jeans, setting them on the floor. He lay along her, only their underwear impeding further intimacy.
“I love you so much Lynne.” He breathed that thought into her ear, making her shiver and moan. Then he kissed her neck, down to her breasts, fondling her hips. Their lower bodies ground against the other, building into a frenzy that would lead to the most beautiful and expressive manner of their affection. Lynne stroked his back, as he began moving to her belly, his lips warm and soft and….
Her body went rigid, a tremendous fear rippling all through her. Eric noticed immediately, then moved toward her face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“You’re not gonna change now, are you? Eric, I couldn’t take that again, I couldn’t….” A transformation was close, both knew it. Even if his limbs were pain-free, that ache in his gut meant he had only days remaining as this man, whom she needed more than anything else in the world.
“Oh Lynne, baby, I love you, I, I…. Do you not want me to, I mean….”
She shook her head, then wished he had removed her panties when he took off her skirt. She tugged on his briefs, but he had become flaccid. Yet, it would only take a few minutes, once both were fully bared.
“Lynne, let’s go upstairs. Honey, Lynne?”
“No Eric, here. Make love to me here. Not in our bed.”
He nodded, but the moment had passed. Several minutes later he was sitting in the corner of the sofa, as she wept in his arms. He told her that he loved her, but while she knew that was true, she also accepted that he had no control over when and how he would alter. But Lynne did not want it again happening in their bed, as he made love to her.
They remained entwined, their hands slowly exploring the other. Eric grew hard, and this time, Lynne slipped off her underwear, then sat on his lap. “Here, now, can you?” she said.
He nodded, maneuvering out of his briefs. Rare were the times they made love in the living room, on the couch. Lynne kept her eyes open when possible, but in reaching completion, she shut them tightly. Eric followed, gripping her back, calling her name through gritted teeth. As they calmed, he still held her close, and she didn’t move away from him.
When normal speech was possible, they joked that the sofa would need to be recovered. “Maybe I’ll put it in the studio, and we can get a new one. It’ll be nice for next year, with the sunroom and….”
Lynne kissed him. If he wanted to plan their new home, or another exhibit, she wouldn’t argue. But she didn’t want to hear the details. She wanted to keep this man as close as she could, until no longer could she do so.
Chapter 18