The Hawk: Part Five

  On the morning Jane turned one year old, Lynne woke to the sounds of that baby, but Jane wasn’t crying. Lynne concentrated, trying to discern her daughter’s needs, but Jane merely babbled, allowing a mother time to use the toilet, then slip into her robe. Eric didn’t stir, but Lynne was glad, unsure of when he actually came to bed. He had gone up with her, they had made love, but then Lynne fell asleep, aware that Eric would probably outlast her. He was working on a painting and who knew how long he’d stayed up with it.

  Approaching the nursery door, Lynne hesitated as Jane continued to jabber, but she didn’t say Ma-ma or Da-da as she often did. Her cadence was different; to Lynne’s slight bemusement, it sounded Polish. A mother smiled, amazed at her child’s emerging brilliance. Then sentiment pushed Lynne into the nursery, where exactly one year ago she had given birth to the infant now starting to fuss. But as soon as Lynne and her daughter made eye contact, Jane giggled, standing up in her crib, rattling the side. “Ma-ma!” the child exclaimed. “Ma-ma!”

  Lynne reached her daughter, hoisting the baby into her arms. Jane repeated her previous word; it was only one word, but to Lynne it was the sound of magic. Lynne smothered Jane’s face with kisses, making the baby laugh. Then they sat in the rocker, but Lynne didn’t initiate breastfeeding, nor did Jane seek it out. Jane merely snuggled against her mother while Lynne cradled this precious blessing, how she thought of her daughter. Then Lynne gazed around the room, which was mostly dark, but enough light shone through a break in the curtains revealing the furniture and decorations. However Lynne saw a different view; daffodils in vases on the dresser, Dr. Salters and Renee at the foot of the bed. Eric was behind Lynne, holding her up, telling her how much he loved her. And the little girl in Lynne’s arms was yet to arrive, making Lynne wonder if she could possibly manage to bring forth a child. Yet, twelve months later, Jane was giggling, and again babbling in that foreign tongue. Lynne chuckled, wishing she knew a little Polish, perhaps Marek could teach her a few phrases. Jane could grow up to be bilingual, although Polish was a fairly odd language to know. Still, who knew the future? Maybe Jane would be a linguist when she grew up, a chef living in Europe, or…. A painter, Lynne smiled, as Eric stepped into the room.

  “Good morning. How late were you up last night?” Lynne’s tone was soft, for Eric seemed to stumble into the nursery, rubbing his eyes.

  “Oh my God, I don’t even know. Painting’s done though.”

  Lynne stood, motioning for Eric to take her seat. He did so, then she handed him their daughter. Jane seemed just as pleased for her father’s attentions; did she know the painting was of her, Lynne wondered. Maybe Jane liked the scent of oil paints, which Lynne detected. Or maybe she simply felt the tremendous depth of her father’s love, even if Eric was half asleep. Lynne wished for a camera nearby, or that she could paint, for no one ever captured how much Eric adored his baby girl other than the woman who was constantly pictured in that state of bliss. The painting downstairs was of Jane and her mother in the garden, surrounded by daffodils. That Eric could finish it late at night was a testament to his talents and a reminder to Lynne of how much he loved them both. Not that she required that prompt; maybe Eric merely needed to give it. But Lynne didn’t worry that it was due to an impending departure. All was relatively calm on the East Coast and other than Renee, no one here required a visit from an errant hawk. Constance Taylor’s funeral would be on Saturday, according to Laurie, who also said that the family seemed to be accepting her death with a modicum of peace. Laurie wished he and Stanford could be at Jane’s party, but to expect them there in spirit. As far as Lynne knew, Renee would attend in the same manner.

  That pained Lynne, but memories from a year ago were sustaining; Renee handing to Lynne her newborn daughter, Renee putting that same baby into Sam’s shaky grip. Lynne closed her eyes, hearing Eric telling Jane that very tale, the story of her birth, he said, which they were celebrating on that day, one whole year later. An entire year had passed, Lynne inhaled, and Eric had not changed form. She gave thanks for that and for the miracle resting in her husband’s arms. Then she joined her family, kneeling at Eric’s side. While Jane continued to jabber in her half-Polish cadence, two parents held hands, saying silent prayers. This life truly was a miracle, both acknowledged.

  That day Jane received cards from her uncles in New York and from Aunt Agatha, which made both Lynne and Eric chuckle. Eric also had a stack of letters for himself, from around Europe, which amazed the Snyders that the cards had arrived at all. Some were only addressed to Eric Snyder, painter, not even their state scrawled on the envelopes. As Jane walked from room to room, slowly starting to master that achievement, Eric read through the correspondence, some of it in very poor English, but all the sentiments were the same; gratitude for this or that painting, or for all of them together. Many noted the blue barn, but other canvases earned praise, from the hawks and landscapes to the nudes. Some of the letters gave a return address and Eric would reply to those that he could. But that would happen on another day; as he set aside the last letter, he spied his daughter tugging at the sunroom gate. Then Jane looked at her father, a wide grin on her face. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Eric asked, getting up from the table, heading her way.

  She laughed heartily, then returned to pulling on the top of the baby gate. But it was firmly attached to the sides of the doorway and as Eric reached her, she started to cry. He scooped her into his arms, easing her mood, then he tickled her. “You’re never gonna get in there that way. But I’ll tell you what; since it’s your birthday, I’ll show you my present.”

  Jane stared at her father, her blue eyes wide. She nodded like she understood, which made her father smile. “You’re a tease,” he said, kissing her face. She giggled, then pointed toward the easel.

  “All right, let’s go have a look.” Eric stepped over the gate and Jane clapped in delight. The room was a mess, but Eric now used it as his winter studio, and Lynne didn’t complain. He would tidy it before the party, but on that day it housed his current pieces, which leaned against the lower parts of the walls. Canvases formed a circle around the room’s perimeter, some of Jane, of Lynne, of the garden. Eric had been busy despite the cold weather, Renee’s depression, and Stanford’s too. There had been too much joy in his heart to not work, even if Lynne still wasn’t pregnant. Plus he wouldn’t get anything accomplished in April; maybe that had been the impetus for his recent spate of creativity.

  Jane was quiet, scanning the lower half of the walls, where windows stopped and paintings were stacked. Some were in the studio, but the weather had been drizzly, and Eric preferred them to dry inside. He didn’t know what would happen to these pieces, although the last time Marek visited, he suggested that Eric donate them to the hospital or library. Eric flinched at the idea of these paintings where Lynne used to work, only that her last days there had been so unpleasant. But maybe those of the garden, hung in the waiting areas, would provide families with something to consider other than the poor health of their loved ones. But what would become of those whom Eric adored?

  Eric studied the picture he had finished only hours ago; Lynne sat at the patio table, which Eric had brought out for this canvas. Also for the party, if the weather was amenable, he smiled, staring out at a sunny day. Yet the wind blew, and in the painting, Lynne wore a heavy sweater, Jane well wrapped. But the daffodils were in full bloom, which had prompted Eric to begin this piece, thinking back to walking in the garden the day his wife went into labor, then how she demanded he pick flowers for Jane’s arrival. Of course, they hadn’t known it was going to be Jane, although good thing it was, for they never did agree on a boy’s name. Jane Renee it was meant to be and Eric blew raspberries into Jane’s plump neck, making her squeal. Then she grew quiet, gazing at the painting, making Eric wonder what she saw; her mom certainly, for this painting wasn’t an impressionistic image of mother and daughter. Eric had ta
ken great care to faithfully represent his family, the most precious people in the world.

  Lynne’s eyes sported the hints of crows’ feet, but her smile was much like her liberated grin while seated on the stool. A few of the letters remarked upon that painting, how beautiful was the model, and how free she seemed. Over a year later, Lynne still appeared that unfettered, although tiny lines around her eyes denoted a change in her status, from a childless woman to someone’s mother. Eric felt no need to hide that fact, for Lynne possessed that role from morning until night. He’d found her side of the bed empty when he finally stirred, yet he knew exactly where she would be. Then he smiled; he knew where she was at that moment, in the kitchen making that night’s dessert. More pies would be baked for the party, but this was a special day, and Jane loved apple pie. Eric could smell the cinnamon from the sunroom.

  Jane could too, for she started calling for her mother. Eric laughed, stepping away from the painting. “You know what she’s making for you, don’t you?”

  Jane smiled, then tilted back her head in rapturous laughter, causing her father to break out in a belly laugh. “My goodness I love you.” He kissed her cheek. “Let’s go find your mama.”

  “Ma-ma,” Jane said, pointing to the sunroom doorway.

  “Indeed,” Eric said, stepping over the gate as Jane clapped in agreement.

  The trio enjoyed a quiet morning, then Jane was taken upstairs for her nap. Eric and Lynne also spent that time in bed, but only long enough to expend their passions. Then Lynne gathered laundry while Eric wrote a few letters. Then he sighed. His responses were all the same: Thank you so much for taking the time to write, it’s a pleasure to hear from you. He wondered if those rote replies would be appreciated, then he tutted himself. He loved getting feedback, especially from a vast array of peoples all over the European continent. They had taken the time to express their feelings, it was only fair to acknowledge those emotions, some of which were very intense. Most who wrote about the blue barn shared what they saw inside it and a few of those letters had brought Eric to tears. A great wave of memories had been stirred and many were connected to the Second World War. Not all those who had written noted their home countries, although Eric could make out some from stamps and postmarks. Those that eluded him, he could ask Marek for help. Then Eric winced. Might that bring up unpleasantness for the pastor?

  A knock on the kitchen door took Eric from that thought. He stood, but Lynne answered it, and Eric smiled as Sam spoke. When Eric reached the kitchen, Sam and Lynne were still embracing. Then Eric chuckled; pie was cooling on the counter. Maybe Jane would get her birthday treat at lunch instead of after dinner.

  Sam released Lynne, then he turned toward Eric. “Well, good morning, or nearly afternoon.” Sam’s smile was merry. “Is the birthday girl asleep?”

  “She is, but not for much longer.” Eric hugged Sam, although normally they wouldn’t have greeted each other in that manner. But it was the day, Eric knew. This day wasn’t only notable to Jane’s parents.

  Then a small sorrow welled in Eric’s chest. Renee was working, but they wouldn’t see her that day, and perhaps not on Saturday at the party. Still Sam was jovial, which Eric took as good sign. “What brings you around Ahern?” Eric asked. “Looking for a birthday snack?”

  “Oh, you know me. If Lynne’s made a pie, I can smell it from my backyard.” Sam chuckled. “Actually, I’ve got something to show you folks. But it can wait until the birthday girl’s up.”

  “What?” Lynne asked, pouring three cups of coffee.

  “Oh, just a little something.” Sam sat at the table and Eric did too. Lynne brought the mugs for each, then joined the men.

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay for lunch,” Lynne said. “We’re having a fancy array of peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Oh, I imagine Jane can’t wait,” Sam smiled. “Well, she’s probably itching for pie.”

  “She was, actually,” Eric said, reaching for his cup. He blew on it, then leaned back in his chair, studying his best friend. “Jane and I were admiring her latest portrait, but she could smell her birthday pie. Then we hightailed it in here, but a nap came first.”

  “Birthday pie, that’ll be the Snyder custom.” Sam sipped his coffee, then took a deep breath. Then he grinned again. “Well, I’d love a PBJ and whatever else you’ve got on offer.”

  “It’s a deal.” Eric appreciated Sam’s light mood, the happiest he had seemed in…. Since last December, Eric realized. Had Renee changed her mind about adoption? Eric hadn’t spoken with Sam about more than the weather or the upcoming baseball season, but Sam’s tenor was certainly that of a man with better thoughts than how the Red Sox would fare that summer. Then Eric tried his coffee, which was still too warm for him to drink. Sam liked his coffee hot, but Eric would wait. “So Sam, you’ve got something to show us. Jane might sleep for another half hour, but I’m dying to see what’s up your sleeve.”

  Eric couldn’t imagine what it might be and Sam’s grin gave nothing away. “Well, it is more something a man would appreciate, no offense Lynne.”

  “None taken,” she giggled.

  But that further stoked Eric’s curiosity. Sam was so culinary, but if Lynne wouldn’t be that excited, what might Sam be hiding? “Let’s go Ahern.” Eric stood. “I can’t drink my coffee for at least another five minutes. Show me the surprise.”

  Sam also stood, then grabbed his jacket. “All right, but get a coat Eric. It’s not warm out there.”

  “Okay. And maybe when we come back, someone will have sliced up a few pieces of pie.”

  “Now now, that pie is for your daughter.” Lynne smirked, then kissed Eric’s cheek. “Out with the both of you. You’ll be lucky if you get jam on your sandwiches.”

  “Mud’ll be more like it,” Sam laughed, putting on his jacket. Then he headed to the door as Eric reached for his coat, hanging from the rack in the corner. They left the kitchen to Lynne’s admonishments to take their time.

  The sunshine was pleasant on Eric’s face, but the breeze was cool against his body. He walked quickly in part to stay warm and to keep pace with Sam, who headed for the gate. Sam tapped his foot, waiting for Eric. “C’mon Snyder. My coffee’ll be too cold to drink if you keep dawdling.”

  Eric didn’t miss the glee in Sam’s tone. “All right, all right, keep your shirt on.” He reached where Sam waited, then Sam slowly opened the gate. Eric followed, then his eyes grew wide. “Sam Ahern, you bought a new car!”

  A white Chevy two-door sat right along the road, a little dirt splashed along the rear wheels. The car looked as if other than the bit of mud, Sam had driven it straight from a dealer’s lot. Eric walked around the vehicle, a Bel Air, he noted on the back, his heart pounding. His and Lynne’s was getting old, and as soon as they were pregnant again, Eric would buy a larger vehicle. Then Eric stared at Sam; this wasn’t for a family, what with only two doors. Had the Aherns firmly decided against adoption? “Boy Sam, this’s something special.” Then Eric paused. “Yup, this’s quite a vehicle.”

  “Well, Renee’s gone Monday through Friday now, and we had the extra money. Decided it was time to get us another car.”

  “Well, you sure picked a nice one.” Eric peered through the driver’s window. “When’d you get it?”

  Sam chuckled. “About forty-five minutes ago. Renee knows, I mean, we talked about it yesterday, although I’ll surprise her at….” Sam cleared his throat. “Well, not at lunchtime. Looks like I’m having birthday peanut butter sandwiches with you all.”

  “Oh hey, don’t feel the need to stay, I mean, you’re certainly welcome, but if she gets off for lunch, I’m sure she’d love to see this.”

  “No, today they’re short-handed. Thursdays are….” Again Sam paused. “Eric, Renee probably won’t be coming to the party on Saturday.”

  Eric nodded, but his heart felt pricked. “We were wondering. How is s
he?”

  Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from Eric. “She’s um, well, she’s uh….” He kept his back to Eric as he continued. “She’s seeing your pastor, actually, for counseling. She’ll go over there tonight after work. That’s why I bought the car. We need another pair of wheels and….”

  A shiver traveled up and down Eric’s spine. “Well, yeah, sure. You’re both working, can’t be without transportation.” Eric wondered how it had come about, Renee speaking to Marek. Then he trembled again, for Renee’s probable absence on Saturday. Lynne would take it hard, for she had wanted to share that day with her best friend, who was also Jane’s godmother. Would Jane miss Renee, Eric wondered. And would Sam not attend either?

  Sam then turned around, meeting Eric’s gaze. “I’ll be here for the party and who knows, maybe after Renee talks to Marek tonight, maybe she will too.” Sam stared at the ground, then to his car. “Eric, there’s something else I wanna tell you, or ask you.”

  “What?”

  Sam took his hands from his pockets, but his arms hung at his sides. “Um, it’s kinda personal, and if it’s none of my business, just say so.”

  Eric stepped toward Sam, but kept a small distance between them. “Anything Sam, you can ask me anything.”

  Sam nodded, but he kicked at the ground, bringing some mud up with his shoe. Then he scraped the mud against the new front tire. “Eric, did you tell that pastor about, you know….”

  “About what?”

  Sam glanced at Eric, with what to Eric looked like nearly a frown. Then Sam shook his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

  Again Eric shivered, but that time it was from the wind. “You mean that I change into a hawk?”

  Eric trembled as he spoke, only because it had been so long that perhaps Eric no longer made that transformation. But he wouldn’t discount the possibility, better to anticipate the unexpected. “No Sam, I haven’t told him.” Then Eric sighed, for he had to be truthful, even if he had no proof. “But I think he knows. Don’t ask me how, but something tells me he knows.”

  Sam nodded. “He does. He told Renee some things when they met on Tuesday. Goodness, that was just two days ago. Time flies Eric, I mean….” Sam shook his head. “That sounded odd, I’m sorry.”

  “Time does fly, I used too to, and maybe one day I will again. Sam, is Renee okay?”

  Now Sam shook his head. “No, I mean, she says she can’t be at the party, she can’t be around Jane. I know she wants to, but it’s just, well, too hard.” Sam sighed. “But at least she’s talking to Marek about it, or she’s gonna talk to him one of these days.”

  “Well, sometimes it takes a while to get to the heart of the matter.”

  Sam nodded, then he looked at Eric. “Well that or that pastor’s got a lot to say. He told Renee some stuff and maybe it’s not for me to repeat. Well, I know it’s not, but I also have a feeling that he told her what he did not only for her. I mean, he said it in confidence, but hell, he knows my wife, Renee gabs like there’s no tomorrow.” Sam leaned against the hood of his new car, folding his arms over his chest. “Eric, how much do you know about what happened to him back in the war?”

  “I know he lost his family.”

  “Is that all you know?”

  Eric smiled, then stood beside Sam, also leaning against the hood. Eric inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. “What I know about Marek’s youth is strictly from what I saw in his eyes when I painted him. He hasn’t said a word about it to me.”

  Sam coughed. “And what’d you see in his eyes?”

  “A huge loss, as you might imagine. Also peace. Whatever happened to them, he’s made peace with it.”

  Sam nodded. “I know how he made peace with it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yup. He saw a….”

  Jane’s laughter could be heard from behind the property’s walls. Sam stood straight, walking toward the gate as if the men hadn’t been discussing more than the Red Sox. Lynne stepped through, toting the baby, who immediately reached out for her uncle. Sam was happy to take her, then he pointed to the car. Lynne was just as amazed as her husband had been, and Eric went to his wife’s side, quietly explaining the Aherns’ new vehicle. But Eric didn’t mention that Renee was seeing Marek Jagucki, or that Renee probably wouldn’t accompany Sam on Saturday. Eric would leave those subjects for later, maybe during Jane’s afternoon rest, or even for bedtime after parents had feted that baby’s milestone. Instead Eric led Lynne to the Chevy, which Lynne thought was just beautiful. Jane did too, jabbering with her godfather as if asking for a ride. But Sam spoke about pie, also lunch, which made Lynne giggle, Jane too. The foursome headed back for the house, Sam and Jane leading the way. Eric gripped his wife’s hand, wondering if not for the interruption, what Sam had been ready to say. Eric had a good idea, but at that moment there were other blessings to celebrate.

  Chapter 92