In the morning, Laurie called Manhattan, talking to Agatha for nearly half an hour. Then Lynne and Agatha spoke, even Jane said a few words. Agatha told Lynne that Stanford had no plans for that evening, as Lynne had mentioned trying to reach the art dealer. After goodbyes were shared, Lynne and Laurie wondered if Agatha’s intercessions had done any good. Allegedly she had spoken her heart last week, but Stanford hadn’t tried to contact Laurie. Maybe he had written a letter, Lynne mused, but Laurie doubted it. “I guess we’ll know more tonight,” he sighed. Then he smiled. “But it was so good to hear her voice.”
“She’s such a special lady.” Lynne squeezed Laurie’s hand. “If he’ll listen to anyone, it’d be Agatha.”
Laurie had a brief nod, then he gazed about the room. Lynne sensed his misgivings. He took a deep breath, then stared at her. “I’m thinking of looking for a house out here. When Eric gets back, I don’t wanna be in the way.”
“Oh Laurie, you’re more than welcome. We’ll need you, you know.”
He gripped her hand, then smiled weakly. “You’ll need time alone with your husband and this gorgeous girl.” Laurie tickled Jane’s chin, then he sighed. “I don’t think there’s much chance for things to change, not for me and Stan.”
Lynne’s heart raced, but she understood his pessimism. If Agatha’s words hadn’t moved Stanford’s heart, perhaps it would only be softened by witnessing the miracle Lynne prayed for daily. Maybe she needed to stop those intercessions, in that she had laid that petition at Christ’s feet, time to leave it there. But her heart was so inclined toward the man she loved, and so was Laurie’s for his other half. Then Lynne took a deep breath; Laurie truly felt Eric would return, but nearly a month had passed. Lynne also needed to tell Frannie something, for Sam’s sister knew that Seth had been discharged. “Laurie, please, don’t do something….”
Would it be so terrible if this man relocated, what about his career? Lynne mentioned that and Laurie cracked his knuckles. “I’ve already informed some of my clients to find other dealers. I can represent artists out here, that would be new.” He smiled, patting Lynne’s hand. “I sure don’t miss New York winters, let me tell you. It’s just a thought, we’ll see what happens after Christmas.”
“Please don’t misconstrue my feelings, but you belong in New York.”
Laurie shook his head. “Last night showed me something I didn’t expect. I belong with those who love me, for me as well as all you lovely folks.” He chuckled, then cleared his throat. “I told Marek life is short, and it is. My mother’ll pitch a fit, maybe my sisters will be offended. But honey, this is real, even if it’s pretty unbelievable.” Now he laughed. “You and Jane are my family, so are Sam, Renee, Marek, and those kids, good God. Where’d those two come from, like they dropped straight outta heaven.” Laurie smiled, then sighed. “I need to write Seth, tell him we’re still waiting. He wanted to know, and while a part me worries it might set him back, I can’t lie. I couldn’t to Stan, and I won’t to my cousin. And I’m not gonna lie to myself. I don’t wanna live where I’m constantly making excuses.” He shook his head. “All these years Stan and I lived pretty freely, I mean, as openly as we could. But the last couple of weeks, even though I miss him like crazy, I’ve felt this liberty, and I don’t mean because I don’t have to hide how I feel about him, it’s not that at all. It’s….” He paused, then caressed Jane’s face. “What if my family wasn’t supposed to be me and Stan? I’ll never love anyone else, but maybe we weren’t meant to last forever.”
“Oh Laurie, no!”
As Lynne broke into tears, Laurie stood, then sat beside her, embracing her. “Don’t cry honey, oh Lynne….”
A mother wept hard, making her daughter whimper. Laurie regretted their distress, but he had to face reality. He gave Lynne a handkerchief, then collected Jane from her seat. She snuggled against him, reinforcing what he knew was inevitable. Yes, his mother would be upset, his sisters too. But he didn’t want to return east to live alone. As Lynne began to calm, Laurie stroked her damp cheek. “I’ll have to find the closest synagogue,” he smiled. “Might not go every Friday night, but there’s always St. Matthew’s.”
“Let me talk to him tonight, maybe he doesn’t fully understand….”
Laurie shook his head. “What Stan comprehends is beyond what I can fix. And Lynne, I don’t blame him. What I said isn’t for the faint at heart, and he doesn’t have the most abstract mind. Like I said, with Stan it’s black and white, no room for….”
“But Laurie, how blatant is it that you wanna look for a place to live here? Maybe if he knew that….”
“If he knew that, he’d throw in the towel. It’d be like I was letting him off the hook.”
Lynne sighed. “We’ve all felt that way, trying to come to terms with….” She gazed at Laurie. “Have you ever given him a reason not to trust you?”
Again Laurie shook his head. When Agatha mentioned that point, Laurie had wanted to collapse; nearly twenty years the men had been together and never once had either deliberately hurt the other. Stan wasn’t doing that now, which Laurie accepted. “Lynne, there just isn’t any other way for Stan to take this. The longer Eric’s gone isn’t gonna matter either, because Stan will just become more used to the situation. I wouldn’t be surprised if when Eric returns, Stan drops him as a client. Oh, he’d be very tactful, but if I’m not there, there’s no purpose for him to….”
“All the more reason for you to….” She stroked his cheek. “Go home.”
“Home’s here, Lynne. Maybe I’m not such a New York Jew after all.”
He kept his voice light, but saying those words hurt like no pain Laurie had ever known. Not even over Seth had Laurie ached so deeply. He smiled, then stood, kissing the top of Lynne’s head, then Jane’s. Laurie left the kitchen, putting wood on the fire. He couldn’t feel the heat, but maybe a long shower might help. He took the stairs, his resolve growing with each step. By the time he reached the landing, he considered finding a realtor. But first he needed to stand under the hottest water possible to ease a penetrating chill.
In Texas, the sound of pounding rain woke John from a deep sleep. Against the tin roof, drops sounded like hammers falling, but while the noise was reminiscent of something else, again nothing concrete came to his mind. He had ruminated over the notion of his wife, daughter, and another child due soon, but had managed to keep those details from Dora. Callie knew, for John had needed to speak of those…. They weren’t memories, for he couldn’t recall their names, and the only physical hint was that his daughter’s eyes were the same color as Luke’s. Otherwise they were ghosts, which Callie well understood. His recollections of fallen comrades in Korea were much the same.
Yet those men had names, Callie could picture them. All John possessed was the notion that he was married, had a child Gail’s age, and another…. He felt awful, maybe he deserved what had happened to him, although Callie thought that sort of talk was bad for a person. They had spoken of this a couple of days ago when Dora had spent the morning with her mother. John had relished the privacy, standing on his own, walking as far as the shed’s entry, then gripping the doorframe, staring out at…. He could see trees in the distance, framing the main road where later on Luke and Tilda raced each other, but they didn’t wave at him until they had reached the house. He was still an unknown to the rest of Karnack, not even Dora’s mother was aware. How the little girls had stayed quiet about him, John wasn’t sure.
Maybe they had mentioned him, but their grandmother didn’t believe their tales, for who kept a man in a shed without him being discovered? Yet John’s presence remained undetected, not even his family had found him. That fueled his fears, for he had been missing for at least three weeks. Perhaps his presence wasn’t necessary.
He sat up, which was a slow, painful process. Now his upper body ached when he moved, the numbness more a tingling sensation settling below his right elbow. He could still wiggle his fingers, but often it was as if he had no right hand,
for he couldn’t always feel the movements. He no longer drank the whiskey Walt offered, for John didn’t want to rely on it. Turning into a drunkard was a possibility, he mused, as rain still fell, sounding like an echo to his former life. But other than the memory of the reverberation, he had no idea what it signified.
The rain continued for another half hour, by which time John had relieved himself, then walked slowly to the shed doorway. He steadied himself with his left hand, gazing at pools collecting in dips, water dripping off the roof of a house he had yet to step inside. Walt had mentioned him joining them for dinner, but John didn’t feel ready for that, especially now. How long could he keep his family from Dora? Callie had agreed that she didn’t need to know, but he had told Susie, who was praying for John. Callie was too, he had smiled, but their prayers hadn’t seemed to alleviate the situation. Then John wondered if he had shared their religious inclinations. Not that he was Baptist, but merely a believer. He wasn’t sure, then sighed loudly. As he did, the rain suddenly stopped, making him smile. He shook his head, then took a deep breath, the scent of wet earth also familiar. Rain fell wherever he was from and he’d been near it more often than not.
He looked out for another minute, then turned around, heading back to his bed. To his surprise, Dora called after him. He gazed to the doorway, seeing her walking along the path, avoiding the puddles. She was visibly pregnant, making his heart throb. “Good morning,” he said.
“Just wanted to see if you were all right.” She reached the doorway, a small smile on her face. “Been raining all morning, wasn’t sure if you’d floated away.”
“Roof’s tight as a drum in here. Hope you’re just as snug inside.”
“We are. Walt and Callie redid the roof last summer.” Then she took a deep breath. “Sorta gloomy, being out here all by yourself. You, uh, wanna come in for some coffee?”
He stared at her, for while the invitation was welcome, he wasn’t certain how pleasant his company might be. He also wondered if being around Esther and Gail would exacerbate the pain. Or maybe they might spark a memory; he didn’t want to decline what was Dora’s first independent attempt at conversation. Their few words spoken when she had cut his hair was more of Luke’s doing. “I’d be happy to come in for a bit. Not sure how I’ll get up the stairs but….”
“We’ll see what we can manage.”
Her voice was slightly upbeat and John wondered if Walt had put her up to this. Maybe Callie was visiting that morning and could play intermediary. “Let me sit for a minute, been on my feet for a while.” John walked to the metal chair, then sat, taking deep breaths. His shoulder was very painful, but he didn’t want Dora aware.
“I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee, then we’ll see how you feel.”
“Sounds good.”
She smiled again, then turned toward the house. John observed how she avoided the puddles, wondering if where his wife was, was she doing the same.
Ten minutes later, Dora returned, Callie on her heels. John inwardly chuckled, but from how Dora acted, Callie’s presence hadn’t been planned. John leaned on Callie as they walked to the porch, then it was mostly Callie’s strength to get John up the few steps. He was visibly winded, also in great pain. Dora looked worried, but Callie nodded. “Got to get you moving,” he said to John. “You’re never gonna get better lying flat all day.”
“I know,” John said as they entered the house. He gazed up, then smiled, seeing Susie sitting at the table, a little girl on her lap. The child looked to be between Gail and Esther in age, her brown eyes wide. John chuckled. “Is this your youngest?” he asked Susie.
“She is. Marian, say hello to Mr. Doe.”
The child nodded shyly, then wiggled in her mother’s lap. Susie put her down and she ran to where the Richardson girls played on the other side of the sofa.
John smiled, then sat where Callie led him, to Susie’s right. “She’s beautiful,” he said. “Marian’s a lovely name.”
“Named her for Marian Anderson,” Susie chuckled. “Not sure she’s gonna be a singer, but she’s sure got a loud voice.”
“Amen to that,” Callie laughed, sitting on John’s other side. That left Dora the seat across from John, but he kept his eyes from her, instead taking in the Richardsons’ kitchen. It was homey, an icebox and stove the only appliances. He closed his eyes, could just picture where his wife cooked, but their house was much larger. Then he gazed at Susie; she reminded him of someone, but the connection wasn’t linked to their gender, although pies were somehow a part of it. Then he laughed, spotting a pie on the counter. “Miss Susie, you’re a very talented baker.”
She laughed. “I hear you’re a connoisseur of sweet potato pie.”
He nodded, noting her use of connoisseur. “Indeed, it seems I am. Yours is tops.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. I just follow her lead.”
John sipped coffee that Dora had set in front of him. “Well, you come from a long line of great pastry chefs.”
“Not that long,” Callie said softly.
Susie gave him a look, making Dora giggle. “Did I miss something?” John asked.
“Only that the cooking gift skipped a generation.” Callie rolled his eyes.
“My husband is trying to say that my mother didn’t bake much.” Susie’s tone was firm, then she smiled. “Mama had other talents. Which brings me to you, Mr. Doe. Now, where did you first try sweet potato pie?”
“I wish I knew.” John looked at Susie; who did she remind him of? Her accent and speech weren’t like that of her husband, or the Richardsons. For a Negro living in Texas, she was somewhat refined, but it was more than what one could learn from a book. “Miss Susie, might I be so bold to ask if you’re from Karnack?”
She nodded slowly, then smiled at him. “I was born in Chicago.” She clasped her hands together, setting them on the table. “But my family’s from Mississippi. Met Callie when he went north for basic training, then found myself here in Texas.”
John smiled, then he stared at her eyes, so brown, so close to…. He glanced over at the children, playing together, which was also familiar. Marian caught his gaze, her eyes just like her mother’s, just like…. “You remind me of my pastor,” John said slowly, then he smiled. “It’s your eyes, your eyes and….” She wasn’t from here, although she was very much like these people. Her flair with a pie crust didn’t seem relevant, or maybe it was, but not directly. “I can’t tell you his name, but you’re so much like him.”
“Your pastor?” Dora said. “Not your….”
“I agree Miss Dora. Amen that you’re a believer.” Callie’s tone was that of relief.
“You mean that I’m not Catholic,” John said. “Guess I must not be if I have a pastor instead of a priest.” John felt able to speak candidly, even if the children were near. Esther was too little to understand her father’s prejudice.
Susie patted John’s hand. “No matter what your faith is, the main thing is you have it.”
“Or I did.” John sighed. “Not sure what God means by all this.” He looked at his right shoulder, then toward the door.
“Now Mr. Doe, God’s got his reasons for all things. We might not have any understanding as to why or how, but that’s not for us to know. All we gotta do is trust, you understand? Just trust in his will and know it’s for the best.”
Susie looked at John and he met her gaze. Then he saw how the women held hands. Nothing seemed amiss, although Dora was fighting tears. John wanted to shrug, not at all sure. Then Susie gripped his left hand. Her touch was warm and while his right arm still ached terribly, his heart felt a little less pained. “I guess you’re right,” he said.
“Believe me, after the last few weeks, there’s been plenty to make me think otherwise. But even that has to be for some reason.”
John wanted to look at Dora, but he kept his gaze on Susie. “I suppose we have to pray for more faith, right?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Doe. For more faith and more love.”
br /> “Please call me John.” He squeezed Susie’s hand.
“All right,” she smiled. “Now, shall I slice us some good pie?”
“I’ve been waiting patiently,” Callie chuckled.
Dora only nodded but Esther joined the adults. “Miss Susie, can I have some pie please?”
“Of course honey. Here, you take my seat.” Susie stood, helping Esther into the chair. John observed the entire scene, feeling it was so close to something from his past. But the faces and names remained beyond a veil and try as he might, nothing emerged. He sipped his coffee, the mug starting to feel at home in his left hand. Then he gazed at Dora; her eyes were misty, but she didn’t look away from him. He nodded at her and she smiled. Then she stood, putting Marian in her chair as Gail sought her mother’s arms.
Chapter 174