On Thursday afternoon, Lynne mopped the kitchen while Eric tended to Jane, who ached to be near her mother. Parents commented that their daughter seemed eager to learn their specialties, although they laughed, noting that Jane probably thought Lynne was making a pie. After Lynne finished cleaning, she joined her whiny baby and chuckling husband on the sofa in the living room. Jane leaned toward her mother, but didn’t seek to nurse. She snuggled against Lynne’s chest as her eyelids fluttered. Within a few minutes, the baby was asleep.
“I kept thinking she’d notice that it didn’t smell anything like pie,” Eric said softly. Then he inhaled. “Guess she can’t tell a difference between floor cleaner and cinnamon.”
Lynne smiled, then kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Maybe her sense of smell isn’t quite as developed as her sense of taste. Or maybe she likes odd fragrances. She doesn’t seem bothered by turpentine.”
“No, she isn’t.” Eric stood, then stuck out his arms. “Shall I take her upstairs?”
Lynne nodded, handing over the baby. Jane didn’t stir as Eric set her in the crook of his elbow. Lynne noticed how big Jane was relative to a mother’s memories of this time last year. Often Eric hoisted Jane over his shoulder, but now he seemed keen on keeping her asleep. Lynne was too and she wondered if their reasons were the same. Not that she wanted to make love. She wanted to speak with her husband about what was bothering him.
Since Sunday, Eric had been unusually pensive. Lynne had a few guesses, but wasn’t certain about any of them. They had heard from Laurie, who had shared good news and news that while wasn’t wholly bad, wasn’t altogether right. The good was that Stanford seemed to be pulling out of his funk. Laurie didn’t note how Constance’s passing might have eased her son, but Lynne could hear that in Laurie’s somewhat guarded tone. Stanford must have been home during the call, otherwise Laurie would have been more forthcoming. Eric expressed the Snyders’ joy that Stanford was feeling better. Then Eric had grown quiet as Laurie shared the other reason for his call; Seth was leaving for Florida to visit relatives and wasn’t planning on returning until mid-May.
Lynne had been standing near Eric, the receiver set between their ears. As Laurie spoke, Eric shivered, but Lynne didn’t. She had grasped Eric’s hand and he gripped back with all his strength. Laurie said that Seth had announced this last night at a family dinner at Aunt Wilma’s. No one had argued with him, in fact, all of Seth’s sisters were envious, for the weather in New York was still chilly. Wilma and Rose had said little, but that morning Laurie had spoken to his mom, hearing another side to the sisters’ feelings. That while yes, a trip south would probably do Seth good, weren’t Eric and his family supposed to arrive in a few weeks?
Laurie had been careful in replying to his mother, for he didn’t wish to burden her, or his aunt, with his fears, which were now confirmed. Seth was running away, but what could they do? On the surface, his plans appeared doubly beneficial; retreat from the cold northeast to visit elderly relatives who resided in warmer climes. Wilma and Rose’s brother Mickey had moved to Miami years ago, where his wife’s older relations also lived. They weren’t all blood relatives to Seth, but that was beside the point, what Uncle Mickey had said, and what Seth had repeated amid his sisters’ chatter. The point was that Seth would be gone during Eric, Lynne, and Jane’s visit, yet was that truly the best option, Rose later asked. Laurie had lied to his mother, saying that he didn’t know. But to Eric and Lynne, Laurie was honest. He felt it was the worst course of action, but there was nothing he could do to change Seth’s mind.
Hearing Eric return down the stairs, Lynne sighed. She had wanted to meet Seth, even if the initial introduction was awkward. Now once again that man was separating himself from…. Lynne looked up, finding Eric with an odd look on his face. He seemed as unsettled as she had recently seen him and as he rejoined her on the couch, she had no idea what worried him.
She gripped his hand and he clutched hers, but not with as much force as when Laurie had dropped his bomb. That’s what it had felt like, although now with a few days to have mulled it over, Lynne realized she and Eric should have expected something like this. If Seth knew that Eric was a hawk, but then Lynne shook her head. Who knew what Seth actually assumed about himself or Eric or anyone else? He was an artist, yes. He was also one of the most troubled individuals that Lynne knew, even if they had yet to actually meet. Perhaps it was best that Seth would be in Florida. Maybe Stanford would benefit from not having to tiptoe around that man. Stanford needed some peace and quiet, or as much as Jane would allow. He needed a boost to his spirits, but what Seth required was far more than even Eric could assuage.
Lynne took steady breaths, not wishing to rush her husband. Yet Eric’s inhalations were choppy and he squeezed her hand with pressure. Lynne grasped back, then Eric released her hand. He found her gaze and started to speak. Then he stopped. Lynne smiled at him, then patted his leg. “I love you,” she said in a near whisper. She wanted to elaborate, but it felt unnecessary. Eric nodded, then stroked her face. Lynne closed her eyes, a wave of peace coursing through her. No matter what he needs to tell me, she thought to herself, it’s going to be all right.
As Eric began to speak, Lynne remained stoic, but tears formed in her eyes. She nodded as he continued, his words said in a reflective cadence, also uttered with unique tenderness. She hadn’t wished for this information, and he respected that, but the main piece he needed to relay required some back story. As he spoke, Lynne’s calm was rattled, and she wished to flee from the sofa; she wanted to run from the house as fast as her feet allowed. But she stayed where she was as if she was her husband changing form. Eric never managed to halt that process and perhaps this was a similar moment of alteration. For if Eric was correct, and he was almost certain that he was, then the changes Eric endured weren’t for him alone. Another hawk, in another place, at another time, had saved Marek Jagucki’s life. There was no rhyme or reason Lynne could fathom to this news, just how she had never comprehended why from the time Eric was a little boy that he had morphed into a bird. Yet, some parts of this life were beyond their understanding. As Eric took a breath, nothing more for him to say, Lynne inhaled as well. They released those exhalations together. Only then did Lynne open her now red, teary eyes.
Eric sported streaks along his cheeks and Lynne traced those wet lines, wishing to speak, but her lips trembled. Eric then noted how he hadn’t wished to share all this with her, but that the burden of it was too much for him to carry alone. His tone was the same as when he first told her that he changed into a hawk, how did she so clearly recall that sound of his voice? Yet it was exactly the same, news that seemed so erroneous and implausible but utterly true. However this time, Lynne didn’t doubt Eric. Years before she had thought he’d gone mad; she hadn’t understood his words, or the motivation behind them. Now she nodded, then kissed him. When she pulled away, the weight of that revelation rested upon her heart, but not in a painful, confusing manner as in years ago. She sighed, then again stroked her husband’s face. “Are you gonna confront him tomorrow about this?”
Eric gave a wan smile. “Confront’s a strong word. But I will bring it up, somehow. That’s the main reason I’m telling you. If we disappear for an hour tomorrow night, I didn’t want you worrying it was about something else.”
Lynne nodded again, releasing another sigh. Eric hadn’t wanted her to think it was about Renee. And yet, was this news about Marek more disturbing than anything about Lynne’s best friend? Since Renee had pulled away, the void within Lynne’s day to day, not to mention her heart, was staggering. Yet Lynne had weathered Renee’s absence like she had Eric’s last sojourn as a hawk, with a full reliance upon her faith. Yes, it hurt greatly that Renee no longer seemed a part of Lynne’s life, or of Jane’s. But Renee’s suffering was even deeper, which Lynne knew fully well. Then Lynne chuckled, she couldn’t help it. How massive were the cha
nges within her to remain so tranquil in what seemed the most distressing circumstances. Seth was fleeing to Florida, Renee had removed herself from their lives, and Marek…. Marek’s existence was solely due to a hawk who had led him from certain destruction.
“Well, I guess it’s best that he knows,” Lynne said. “I mean, about you. Especially if we’re not gonna meet Seth next month.” An icy chill traveled up Lynne’s back, but she fought to ignore it. “Plus….” She sighed, then shrugged. “He’s part of our family, he really is. Maybe it was unavoidable, or maybe….” She smiled, then placed her hand on Eric’s chest. “How are you gonna bring it up?”
“I dunno. But I am because I can’t keep it below any longer. Maybe he can’t either. What he said to Renee wasn’t only for her.” Then Eric also smiled. “Maybe that’s why she had to see him, so he could tell her this, and she’d tell Sam, then he’d tell me and….”
Lynne nodded, then giggled. “Is that how it works, I mean, is it that obvious, but so veiled?”
“Maybe it is with something like this. Sam didn’t wanna know about me. He had to see it with his own eyes, but that enabled him to hear what Renee had to tell him, and then believe it without reservation. Well,” Eric chuckled, “mostly believe it.”
“Do you think Sam thinks otherwise?”
“No, it’s just so much to take in. But once a person can allow for the supernatural, well….” Then Eric laughed. “Probably due to his faith. Sam’s got some pretty strong faith.”
Lynne nodded, but also considered that what Sam had experienced on the battlefield might have enhanced his belief. But mostly it was Sam’s religious convictions that permitted such bizarre notions to be the truth. Lynne didn’t doubt that Eric’s assumptions were correct. That a hawk could lead a teenager from death wasn’t all that odd when balanced by the evil humans had done to their fellow man. If that was permissible, why couldn’t one youngster be spared?
A mother pondered all those realizations as she tended to her baby, cooked dinner, then made love to her husband that evening. On Friday morning, Lynne baked two pies, the pumpkin Marek had requested, as well as a peach. Rarely did Lynne bake peach pie, but she felt a need to incorporate something new into her routine. Eric smiled upon asking her about it and Jane seemed pleased, wishing for an early taste. Instead, father and daughter took a walk. When they returned, both pies were cooling, lunch ready for all three.
Lynne didn’t fix an elaborate dinner; she made chicken soup, which would be served with a plate of sliced cheeses and a tray of crackers. Marek would focus more on the pie, especially with peach on offer. Vanilla ice cream waited in the freezer, but Lynne wondered if dessert would be delayed, or would the men choose to speak before the meal? Marek was due to arrive at four, a little earlier than he usually did when they shared dinner. But Lynne didn’t trouble herself about it. She prepared the soup and cheeses, then retrieved a plate for the crackers. At three, Jane woke from her nap, and mother and daughter played in the nursery while Eric worked on a painting in the sunroom. He had decided to wait until they returned from New York to move back into the studio, which Lynne thought made sense. Now a notion of delineation loomed over that trip, but first Lynne would be happy to get through that evening’s meal.
Marek arrived promptly at four, at which time Lynne was in the kitchen, Jane in her high chair. The females warmly greeted their pastor, then Eric joined them, the scent of turpentine wafting with his entrance. Marek chuckled that all the appropriate fragrances were accounted for, although he raised his eyebrows at the extra pie on the counter. Jane babbled something, but couldn’t give away the secret, which Lynne said would be revealed after dinner. She hadn’t meant to broach anything else, but her words seemed ominous. Marek nodded, then asked if he could see what Eric was currently painting. Eric replied that he’d love to share the latest canvas. The men exited the kitchen to Jane’s protests. But Lynne said nothing at all.
At a few minutes after five, Lynne heard the rattle of the living room French doors. She had correctly assumed her husband and pastor had left the house via the sunroom, and during that time she had changed Jane, then finished preparing dinner. As voices approached, Lynne spooned up soup, placing three bowls on the table. By the time the men stepped into the kitchen, Jane was starting to complain. Lynne gave her daughter a cracker, which eased Jane’s mood. But Lynne felt a chill as her husband and their guest took their seats. She studied both men’s faces, realizing another topic had been shared.
She discerned that by how Marek wouldn’t meet her eyes, and how Eric’s shoulders slumped. If they had only spoken about hawks, this malaise wouldn’t be present. Yet Lynne didn’t wish to hear about that now. Maybe talking about hawks had taken very little time and much of their conversation had turned upon Seth’s impending vacation. Lynne placed Jane’s dish on the high chair tray, then settled into her own seat. Marek said grace, his tone subdued. The meal began somberly, then Jane began to giggle. Marek spoke to her in Polish, his voice more upbeat. Within minutes one small girl lifted the gloom, and by the time dinner was over, it was as if no shadows lingered.
Marek helped clear the table, in order to more readily try out the surprise still waiting on the counter. Eric wiped Jane’s hands and face as Lynne took out the ice cream, then cut into the pumpkin pie. But Marek said he would take a slice of that home; he wanted to eat what else Lynne had baked.
Eric laughed, teasing that Marek might indeed take home some pumpkin, but perhaps one thin slice would be enjoyed before the pastor departed. Marek laughed that yes, that probably was the truth. Lynne ordered both men to take their seats. She put a tiny slice of pumpkin on Jane’s plate, then larger pieces on the men’s plates. Then she cut into the peach, inhaling a light fruitiness that wasn’t indicative of apple or boysenberry. Those scents were heavier, but the peach pie evoked a change of pace. Lynne scooped a generous slice onto Marek’s plate, adding a healthy dollop of ice cream, then did the same for her husband. She took those dishes to the table, then brought Jane’s to her. Only then did Lynne cut herself one slice of peach, but she eschewed the ice cream. She wanted to sample the peach pie unadorned to determine if this fruit would become part of her repertoire.
The room was silent, not even Jane to squawk. Lynne didn’t stare at her husband or at Marek. She concentrated on the peaches, which had been from cans. Yet they seemed as good as what fresh fruit would have provided to the pie; a firm yet tasty bite of sweetness that pumpkin didn’t offer. Boysenberries were more like a seeded jam filling, but the peaches recalled apple pie, without the cinnamon. Plus even canned peaches weren’t the same as apples. A peach was juicier, which this pie was, and peaches did evoke a certain season. Summer was months away, but Lynne could feel its arrival. Her anticipation was measured, however, by a sense of change that couldn’t be avoided. She gazed at her husband, then at Marek. Whatever they had spoken of was tied to that notion, but Lynne couldn’t gauge the meaning.
Instead she ate her pie, watching as Jane did the same. Jane adored pumpkin pie, maybe that was why Marek had requested it. When Jane was done, she looked at the counter, then at her mother. She jabbered as if asking for more. Lynne smiled, then gave her daughter the last bite of peach on Lynne’s plate. Jane accepted it without question, but once it hit her taste buds, she paused, then stared at her mother. “What?” Lynne said. “It’s still pie.”
“What’d you give her?” Eric asked.
“Just some peach. My last bite, actually.” Lynne gazed at Jane as she spoke, then a mother laughed. “Might be her final bite of peach if she’s not careful.”
“Well if it is, I’ll be happy to take Jane’s slice off your hands.” Marek wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned back in his chair. “Now you’ve placed me in a quandary Lynne. I never thought anything could beat your pumpkin. But this peach pie is, well….” He smiled, then sighed. “It’s probably the best I’ve e
ver eaten.”
“And that was with canned fruit.” Eric also leaned back in his seat. “Can you imagine if she’d had fresh peaches?”
“I think you’ll need to plant a peach tree in that spare acreage.” Marek patted his stomach. “And I’ll earn my pie the old fashioned way. You let me know when it’s time to harvest and I’ll bring the biggest bucket I can find.”
Lynne laughed as the men’s jovial banter filled the room, often with Jane’s babblings included. Lynne asked if Marek wanted any coffee, but he declined, saying there was simply no place to put it. While usually he offered to help with the dishes, this time he stayed seated as Lynne cleared their plates. Marek did rescue Jane from her high chair, and as Lynne tidied the kitchen, Marek spoke Polish to the baby. Eric joined his wife, picking up a towel, drying a few plates. The couple said nothing, but Lynne was curious as to what the men had discussed. But she didn’t want to rush off Marek; Lynne loved the sing-song nature of his conversation with Jane. That evening’s discourse was no different, so whatever Marek carried in his heart remained there, not clouding what he had to say to a one-year-old.
Soon Marek and Jane were standing near the sink as Lynne washed and Eric dried. Marek offered to hand over Jane to her mother, but Lynne pooh-poohed that and Marek didn’t ask again. He started singing an actual tune, twirling Jane in his arms. She laughed and tried to sing along, but the song was known only to Marek. As Lynne pulled the plug in the sink, Marek was still crooning, but his tone was now softer. Lynne watched as he gently hoisted Jane over his shoulder, her eyelids droopy. She would perk up when Lynne dressed her for bed, but was already on her way to dreamland. Lynne was relieved for that. Only after Jane was asleep would Eric reveal the essence of what he and Marek had shared.
Lynne didn’t need a detailed account of their conversation. All she desired was…. She gazed at Marek, who now held a sleeping infant. Jane was a year old, walking even, but Lynne didn’t think of her as a toddler. Or maybe Lynne wasn’t ready to consider her baby as more than just than a little child who required loving arms. Perhaps Renee wasn’t available, but Marek loved Jane, his soft voice lulling her to peaceful dreams. Maybe Jane wouldn’t do more than flutter her eyelids as Lynne changed her, then zipped her into footed pajamas. Jane would remain in this soothed state, slipping off to bed with merry Polish tunes in her head.
“Here, I think she’s out.” Marek approached Lynne, then handed the baby to her mother. Lynne cradled her daughter, noting that yes, Jane was far away. Lynne smiled at Marek, finding his eyes were moist. He grinned back, unafraid of those tears. Yet in his chocolate eyes, Lynne detected sorrow, he couldn’t hide it. But he didn’t look away from her, as if preparing her for whatever Eric would later say.
Mother and daughter headed upstairs, but Marek didn’t say his goodbyes until Lynne returned alone. The pastor didn’t tarry, although he again thanked Lynne for the pie, which waited in a spare tin, covered with foil. Eric offered to walk the pastor to the gate, but Marek shook his head. He said he hoped to see them on Sunday and to have a restful weekend.
After Marek closed the kitchen door, Lynne didn’t move, rubbing her upper arms with her hands. A chill was present, but she wasn’t sure from what. Marek’s exit seemed odd; usually he appreciated Eric walking him out. Or was it those stray tears with Jane in his arms? What did that signify, something to do with his lost family or…. Lynne wouldn’t speculate, not as Eric enveloped her. She leaned back, reveling in the comfort of his embrace. Then her heart began to pound, but not from passion. “What did he tell you?” Lynne said quietly. “Did he admit about, I mean….”
“He did. It was awkward, but only at first. Actually, we said very little about that.”
Lynne nodded. Perhaps words with Marek Jagucki only served to get in the way. “Well, at least if something happens, I won’t have to lie to him.” She rarely thought about that, in that it had been so long since Eric last transformed. And if he did, it would only be to the New Yorkers she would have to fib. What she might tell them, she had no idea. But at least to her pastor, Lynne wouldn’t have to speak falsehoods.
What might she say to him, if the moment ever arose? Lynne shook her head, then squeezed Eric’s hands, which clung to her middle. That led her to thinking about making love with her husband and perhaps conceiving another child. Jane was a year old and Lynne’s cycles were now regular. Most likely they wouldn’t have a baby that year, but perhaps in 1964. Then Lynne was brought back to Marek’s face and those tears. “Eric, was there something else, I mean….”
“There was.”
His tone was despondent. Lynne fought the urge to turn around, but she needed to see his face. Eric wore no tears, but deep anguish was etched in his eyes, which for just a moment were the color of Sam’s. Then Eric’s eyes were gray, but Lynne bit the inside of her cheek. “Eric, what’d he say to you?”
“He said that as of last night Renee isn’t seeing him for counseling anymore. That she was the one to terminate the sessions and that….” Eric took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “That while he hoped she’d change her mind, he didn’t expect her to.”
“Did he tell you why?” Then Lynne shook her head. It was enough that Marek had spilled what he had. Then Lynne shivered. Something was terribly wrong with Renee. She’d only been seeing Marek for a few weeks. That wasn’t long enough to heal such damage. Lynne hadn’t been a psychiatric nurse, but she’d cared for enough patients to know that when one left the hospital prematurely, they often returned more ill than before. Before…. Lynne clutched her husband, burying her face against his chest. Before Renee had wanted to be a mother as badly as Lynne had. Before Renee had been so happy to play with Jane. Before Renee had been Lynne’s best friend. Before now felt like the painful knife of when Eric had flown away, leaving his wife without any idea of his return.
“It’s okay honey, we have to trust that there’s a reason for all this. Marek kept repeating that, what he said he’d told himself after he’d found refuge in the church. He said that for months he couldn’t even begin to face what had happened to his family, that he only spoke about it with one pastor. But that even then, at such a young age, he knew there was a purpose. Maybe it was the hawk, maybe it’d protected him as well as kept him alive. All I know is that we’ll be leaving in less than two weeks and we won’t be back for a month. And there’s a reason for that too, just like Seth going to Florida. Neither he or Renee can outrun their problems. I just hope….”
Lynne looked up. “You hope what?”
Eric caressed her cheek. “I just hope that neither of them needs a hawk. It was strange to admit to Marek, you know, that part of my life. Now I can’t even remember what I said, but I did say something to the effect that for most of my life I’ve been turning into a hawk. And he said there was a good reason for it, although he didn’t say what the reason might be. Anyway, we just have to let Renee and Seth go their own ways. Maybe it’s not what we see as best but….”
“But they’re hurting themselves, and she’s hurting Sam and Seth’s hurting Laurie and his mother. Oh Eric, what’re we gonna do?”
Lynne wept, feeling none of the peace she had so recently known. Instead a dark cloud settled over her heart. Eric wrapped her close against him, repeating what Marek had stated over and over; there was a reason. All they had to do was trust.
Chapter 95