The Hawk: Part Six
By Anna Scott Graham
Copyright 2016 by Anna Scott Graham
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, incidents and places are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For my husband. And for my Father.
Chapter 98
On the third morning of Stanford’s vacation, he woke alone. The previous two days he and Laurie had stirred together, their slumber interrupted by a baby’s cries. Yet now Stanford found himself as the sole occupant of their bed, no tears apparent. Stanford lay still, placing his hand where Laurie usually resided. The sheets were cool; for how long had Laurie been awake?
Several minutes later, Stanford found his partner, and their guests, in the kitchen. Agatha’s usual morning hum was replaced by actual song, but nothing that Stanford recognized other than how melodious was her voice. No one seemed to notice Stanford’s arrival as Eric stood near Agatha, a plate in his hand, waiting for breakfast. Lynne and Laurie’s attentions were focused upon Jane, who sat at the table in a high chair donated by Stanford’s youngest sister. The baby was being fed by her uncle, a term Stanford couldn’t ignore, not from how often Laurie, Eric, and Lynne had used it, nor from how much of Laurie’s love spilled onto a little girl who seemed nothing like the helpless baby Stanford had recalled. Jane Snyder might still be an infant, but she was also now a member of a family Stanford had never imagined making.
For the last two days, Stanford had attempted to deny the changes within his household; the Snyders were merely guests, albeit very close to him and to Laurie. And to Agatha; how much of this altered dynamic was her doing, Stanford wondered, still silently observing all those within the kitchen. It wasn’t a large room; rare were the times this many people had ever been in it at once. Yet it felt to Stanford as warm and welcoming as the Snyders’ kitchen, it felt like…. Stanford shivered; of course it was his home, he’d lived in this apartment for ages. But as the domicile of two men, never before had the sense of family permeated these walls, and not only that of Agatha’s domain. The whole place seemed to resonate with newfound emotions, even the library, where the adults had taken their after drinks last night. Eric had insisted, wanting to again admire Seth’s sculptures. At first Stanford had been hesitant, but later he wanted to thank Eric for making that overture. Seth wasn’t anywhere close, yet he was all around them. Best to get him out of the way now so the rest of the month wouldn’t be clouded.
Jane’s laughter took Stanford from those thoughts; she gazed his way, her blue eyes sparkling. Stanford smiled, he couldn’t help it. Yet, part of his mirth was in how only Jane realized his presence. She quieted, but still grinned as if aware; for how long could they keep this secret? Suddenly Stanford trembled; she wasn’t some mindless baby. She knew who he was; her uncle, her father’s art dealer, her Uncle Laurie’s best friend. And his companion, but to Jane that meant the same as what her mother and father were to each other. In that respect, Jane Snyder saw Stanford and Laurie no differently than how she understood her parents’ relationship or Sam and Renee’s. And for the first time, Stanford allowed how novel was that insight. Not even his nieces and nephews, nor Laurie’s, were afforded such a liberated viewpoint. Stanford got on well with his brothers-in-law and with Laurie’s relatives by marriage. But all them held reservations, of varying degrees, concerning Stanford and Laurie’s connection. Never had Stanford felt any such judgment from Eric or Lynne. And of course none from their daughter.
Now Jane stared at her uncle, her Uncle Stanford. Those blue eyes, the same hue as Sam Ahern’s, held none of that man’s initial disgust, or his later apologies. Jane’s eyes reminded Stanford a little of Seth, when that man had been much younger, but then Seth had never been so free. He’d always been, as Laurie’s mother like to say, a little touched. But Jane was perfectly content, even here in Stanford’s kitchen. Or more rightly in Auntie Agatha’s kitchen, where finally Stanford’s presence was detected by the only woman Stanford loved. Agatha turned, nodding at him like she had known he was there all along.
Since his mother’s death, Stanford had permitted a more slightly open nature around Agatha, which he now accepted was in part due to their stilted conversation at the end of last year. But that wasn’t the only reason for his altered feelings; Stanford genuinely cared about his cook, housekeeper, and only confidant other than Laurie, even if Stanford hadn’t confessed to Agatha that December evening. She knew he was seeing Dr. Walsh, although she never peppered him with questions. Agatha was a constant, what Stanford permitted, as she deftly returned to flipping pancakes, not revealing Stanford’s presence to Eric, who remained by her side.
Stanford wanted to chuckle, but he ached to remain unseen for another moment, to observe the only other woman for whom he took an interest. To his chagrin, he had found himself caring about Lynne as soon as she’d stepped from the taxi onto Manhattan pavement. Laurie had insisted both men wait for their guests in the downstairs lobby, which had vexed Stanford for how plebian they must have appeared, loitering as if they had nothing better to do. But that had been the truth, for when the cab pulled up, Eric exiting the vehicle first, both Stanford and Laurie were quick to leave the building. Stanford had shaken Eric’s hand as Laurie helped Lynne and Jane from the taxi, and upon seeing Lynne toting her child, Stanford’s heart lurched in his chest. He’d been so pleased to see Eric, but Lynne aroused a different set of emotions. Perhaps they were related to Jane had been Stanford’s immediate thought. But how he felt about Lynne Snyder had little to do with her child. Stanford had left Eric to embrace the painter’s wife, which hadn’t been difficult, as Laurie had taken Jane from her mother as soon as both females were out of the cab.
Lynne hadn’t initiated the hug; it had been all Stanford’s doing, an action involuntary yet so necessary. While he loved Agatha, there was no reason to embrace her, yet Stanford needed to share some sort of physical affection, other than what he gave to Laurie. He’d always hugged his mother, until she forgot who he was. For years that action had been absent, yet how easily had it been reintegrated, as if Stanford was as comfortable as Laurie in sharing his feelings. Lynne hadn’t held onto him for long, yet her arms had been soothing, her greeting appropriate for the occasion, how good it was to see him, and to be there. She hadn’t said home, New York wasn’t her residence, yet, for the next few weeks, this apartment was the Snyder base. They were staying with Agatha for a week, maybe even with Stanford’s father for a few days. But until the end of April, this Manhattan edifice was where Eric, Lynne, and Jane would reside. They would live here until they flew west again.
Now Stanford felt as comfortable around Lynne as he did Agatha; he didn’t analyze that emotional state, other than allowing that since his mother’s death, perhaps he required some sort of feminine touch. Laurie’s mother was too overbearing for Stanford, but Agatha and Lynne knew how to negotiate the waters. Inwardly Stanford chided himself, for that sounded as if he needed to be treated with kid gloves. But in how Jane began to giggle, perhaps that wasn’t an incorrect assessment. Stanford shrugged at the little girl and by that action, Laurie turned Stanford’s direction. “Well, about time,” Laurie smiled. “I was wondering if you’d gone into a coma.”
Now Stanford rolled his eyes, for all eyes were upon him. “Hardly. Just wanted to enjoy my holiday.” He stepped toward Jane, who laughed loudly. How insightful could a one-year-old be, Stanford mused, but then her father was one of the most discerning men Stanford had ever known. Stanford caught Eric’s gaze, like that man could read Stanford’s mind. Yet, Stanford had nothing to hide from his client. Here they were, standing in Stanford’s kitchen, all mysteries s
tripped away.
“Here, take my seat.” Lynne stood, her smile as unfettered as her child’s. “If I have another pancake, I’ll bust. In fact, it’s probably time for a little girl to be changed.”
As Lynne began to unhook the high chair’s tray, Stanford stepped forward. “Oh, it’s all right. Don’t rush off on account of me.”
He said the words without thinking; the last thing he wanted was for Jane to be taken away. Yet the room became hushed, except for Jane’s giggles. The rest were silenced and it took Stanford a few seconds to realize why. Then he felt utterly foolish, also nearly naked. Never had he permitted this level of familiarity with anyone other than Laurie and his father. And with Agatha of course, but even with that woman, he was still her employer. Yet the Snyders were friends; they were family, Stanford allowed. Somehow Eric, Lynne, and Jane had wormed their way into a place where so few dwelled that Stanford was surprised they had found room. Or maybe the bigger shock was how easily they had snuck inside him, as if all that time the space existed, but he had blocked the entry.
“Actually, Lynne’s been waiting to shower, but Jane’s been reluctant to relinquish her mother. I’ll change the girl here, then we’ll be right back while Mommy has a minute to herself.” Eric’s intervention was seamless, Stanford thought, as that man unstrapped the still jovial baby from the high chair, then hoisted her into the air, stirring rapturous laughter.
Lynne’s smile was kind, as was the way she gently patted Stanford’s shoulder. The Snyders departed from the kitchen together, leaving Stanford with those with whom he typically resided within this house. Yet now the usual felt odd; how much had that other threesome assimilated themselves into Stanford’s realm? And, he shuddered, how much would he miss them when they eventually left New York?
How strange would this apartment seem while they stayed with Agatha, he wondered, suddenly hoping that his father would insist upon hosting the Snyders for at least a week. Stanford could easily visit them within minutes if they were a few blocks away, but once the Snyders headed to Queens…. He wouldn’t see them until they returned to Manhattan and by then only a few days would remain. The week they were at Agatha’s, Stanford and Laurie would be fending for themselves. Stanford would be back to work by then, and for the remainder of the Snyders’ visit. He only had these two weeks off and already three days had slipped past far too quickly for Stanford’s liking. How was this even possible, he considered, as Agatha brought him coffee and a plate of pancakes just how he liked them, with a little butter, a smidgen of syrup, and a dollop of jam.
This was the sort of breakfast he only ate a few times a year, yet yesterday she had made oatmeal, who knew what tomorrow’s fare would be? It wasn’t his typical toast, but the coffee was as delicious as always. She’d probably had to make a full pot, but it made no difference to her excellent morning brew. Was Stanford the only one finding how strange all of this was?
He wanted to ask Laurie, but refrained, for that would have been too much to speak of in Agatha’s presence. And even if Stanford mentioned it to his partner, would Laurie understand the depth of Stanford’s query? Maybe this was something for Stanford to discuss with Dr. Walsh, whom he was supposed to see that afternoon. But not even with his psychiatrist did Stanford want to share these revelations. They were too new, he decided. Maybe they were merely the effects of having three Snyders staying at his home. Or maybe he was….
Maybe he was getting soft. Perhaps his mother’s death had affected him, but he couldn’t gauge exactly how until those ways had been discovered. He allowed that his mother’s passing had altered him somewhat; he wasn’t as morose as before. But he had never imagined feeling so, so…. Vulnerable, but not in a negative manner. Stanford looked forward to Eric returning with Jane, for within the last couple of days, Stanford had grown fond of spending time with the painter alongside his family. No longer could Stanford consider Eric a sole entity. Now all three Snyders mattered.
Stanford ate his breakfast, pondering how that detail would now figure within his life. His mother was dead, so it was acceptable that someone else, or two someones, could move into that position. That both were female seemed even more appropriate, then Stanford wore a small frown. If Lynne and Jane took the spot reserved for Stanford’s late mother, where did Eric fit in? Stanford glanced at Laurie, who looked a little bereft, also unkempt; what time had that man woke? Instead of mulling over Eric’s position within Stanford’s life, the dealer studied his partner. Dark circles hung under Laurie’s eyes, yet those eyes carried none of the sorrow that had haunted Stanford’s lover for the past several months. Ordinary fatigue dogged Laurie’s countenance. Then he smiled, reaching for Stanford’s hand. Stanford looked to where Agatha stood at the stove, her back to the men. Stanford then gripped Laurie’s hand, and if Eric happened to walk in at that moment, Stanford didn’t care. To see Laurie looking so happy, if not somewhat weary, was worth any personal embarrassment Stanford might endure.
But Eric didn’t return for several minutes, and when he did, he regaled those in the kitchen with a tale that did make Stanford squirm; Jane had her morning constitutional, and it was easier to put her in the tub with her mother for a few moments. Jane’s hair was damp, but she smelled fresh, which made Laurie laugh, Agatha chuckle, and once the idea of a poopy baby passed through Stanford’s head, he grinned slightly, then offered to hold Jane. She was, as her father said, done with the messier aspects of infancy, at least for a time.
“Indeed, you take her,” Eric said, handing his daughter to Stanford. “I think she was asking for one of her uncles, and seeing you haven’t had your turn yet….” Eric’s tone was jovial as he placed Jane in Stanford’s lap. She giggled, then gazed at Stanford. He’d held her a few times over the last few days, but she was certainly more familiar with Laurie and Agatha. But she remained placid, although Laurie moved Stanford’s unfinished breakfast beyond her reach. Then Laurie caught Stanford’s gaze; now no exhaustion edged that man’s twinkling green eyes. They were full of…. Stanford blinked, but couldn’t escape the deep love Laurie felt for Jane, and for the man holding her. Yet it wasn’t that Laurie wished they’d had children together. It was simply the thrill of sharing in the joy that Stanford could no longer deny. Never again would he be able to repudiate the affection which he possessed for these people, for to do so would be refuting a part of himself. Strangely, these feelings didn’t translate into a yearning to reach out toward his sisters and their families. As Jane babbled in Stanford’s grasp, he was content to admire only her. Perhaps one day his regards would include others. For now, it was enough of an alteration to bounce Eric’s daughter upon his rather unpracticed knee.
Chapter 99