On Monday morning, Renee left for work in the new car. Sam had insisted that she take it, mostly because that day he had nowhere to be. He felt it would have been criminal for it to sit in the driveway all day, and had said that to his wife. Sam hadn’t spoken much to Renee all weekend, not since she came back early from her appointment with Marek Jagucki last Thursday night. There seemed to be little to say, Sam felt, as Renee had made many of her feelings plainly clear.
Standing at the living room window, Sam wondered for how much longer this situation could continue. In no uncertain terms Renee had informed her husband that their marriage as they had known it for years and years was now over. Renee asserted that she wasn’t meant to be a mother and that if Sam felt parenthood was his calling, best that he start looking for a lawyer, a divorce lawyer. Sam had pondered that idea all weekend, uncertain if Renee truly believed what she was saying. Now he wasn’t sure if the last few days had been some awful dream, like when Frannie lost the twins or when Renee told him that Eric turned into a hawk. Or when Eric had come home so sick and neither Ahern knew if he was dead or alive. Sam used those fresher memories as yardsticks, unwilling to delve into incidents further in his past. There seemed no need to revisit those earlier tragedies, not when he had so many right at his fingertips.
What about the afternoon he drove Renee to her parents’ house just last fall? Or the night Eric came over and Sam threw the glass at the wall? Sam gazed to his left; he could still see where the water had trickled, and if he stared hard enough, he could picture the broken shards as if they were harbingers of days to come. Now those days were all around Sam, there was nowhere for him to escape. No place for Renee to run either, other than to work in the new car, which now to Sam felt as superfluous as this three bedroom house for only two people.
He turned around, not looking at the wall where the blue barn was still missing. His eyes traveled to the hallway, down which were three bedroom doors. One was for the master bedroom and the other two…. They were so unnecessary, making Sam’s stomach hurt. Renee had convinced herself that she couldn’t have a baby, what sort of tripe was that? And even if it was true, although Sam highly doubted that it was, their childless life wasn’t her fault. If he had talked about his fears right after coming back from Korea, they would have adopted kids long ago. But Sam had put his pride above what truly mattered and now everything in his life was ruined.
Sam stepped away from the window, then looked at the empty space along the wall. He didn’t know in which country the blue barn was currently exhibited; if he called Eric, maybe he knew. But if Sam called Eric…. Sam didn’t want to talk to anyone, not about this. He couldn’t fathom trying to explain how in only a matter of months his entire life had altered irrevocably. One year ago he’d been on top of the world, what with Jane’s birth providing an unexpected but abundant healing. Then Frannie’s news and…. Sam again stared at where the barn had hung. It wasn’t Renee’s fault at all, he sighed heavily. A gelding resided in that barn, standing alongside a mare, with ponies in the background. Sam knew that truth like he knew his name. He and Renee were meant to be parents, for Eric’s paintings never lied.
All of Marek’s family waited in that barn and Sam winced; the only person he might be able to speak to about this was the man who had supposed to help Renee. Some help that Pole turned out to be. Then Sam chided himself. Marek had done what he could, but Sam hadn’t done for himself all that he did for countless other vets, why was that? Had his and Renee’s friendship with the Snyders confirmed Sam’s decision that kids weren’t necessary? Had all their nieces and nephews clouded Sam’s judgment, or had Sam been like Seth, trying to pretend that serving in war wasn’t more than simply another job. Over ten years had passed since Korea, but some of the men Sam counseled still felt that service to their country was like any other form of employment. But if that was true, why were those men in a mental health ward?
After Renee had slapped him in the hospital, Sam’s only priority was to get on his feet, then go home to his wife. It was his body that was defective, not his mind, and once he could walk again, he was heading right out the door. He never spoke about his time in the army to anyone, except when he began counseling vets because there wasn’t anything else for him to do. Running a restaurant, or even working at one, had quickly been discarded; Sam couldn’t stand for long, nor did he feel capable of dealing with that sort of stress. But stress from work would have probably been a no-brainer compared to the tension of living with nine months of combat in a foreign country. Sam didn’t consider Josh and Larry and how many others having perished on Korean soil who never even had a chance to come home. Maybe they were the lucky ones, Sam sighed, unable to stop staring at the blank living room wall. Those men were somehow squirreled away inside Eric’s blue barn where no one would ever find them.
Sam approached the wall, then he touched the bare space, stretching his fingers wide. The paint was cool along his skin and he closed his eyes, attempting to conjure the canvas which was so far away. Who was looking at it right at that moment, and what did they see? Sam peeked out, then shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could go back to where all of this could have been stopped. Was there even one minute where if he had chosen a different course, Renee wouldn’t be in their new car, driving to a small office where she could hide from the world and from the man who loved her? Perhaps not. Sam removed his hand, staring at the lines in his palm. If he believed in spiritualists, would they discern the very second where Sam went left when he should have gone right?
What would have been the correct path, Sam wondered, still gazing at his hand. Everything had been fine up until he joined the army; why had he done that? He winced, then grimaced; he’d wanted to show his family, and all those Nolans, that he was more than just a college graduate. He was more than the best cook among all of them, he was a man. Men went to war and those that came back were heroes. The dead ones were heroes too, but those alive now formed a brotherhood that would never be broken. Sam smiled, still examining his hand. How many men had he maimed, killed even, to be included in such a society? How many lives had been sacrificed just so Sam Ahern could be exalted? How much of himself had he excised so others could say, “Well, Sam Ahern fought in Korea, you know. Can’t father kids, the unlucky bastard, but he came back alive.”
Sam thought specifically of Ritchie Nolan speaking those words. Tommy too had probably said such things behind Sam’s back. Sam’s brother Ted had tried talking to Sam when he first returned, but Sam hadn’t wanted to bare his soul to anyone, not to his priest of a sibling or to his wife. Renee didn’t know anything about Josh Bradley until Sam blurted that story to the New Yorkers.
Then Sam had learned about Seth. Laurie had a cousin who was now a wreck because of Korea, although maybe Seth wasn’t the best example of what war did to a man. According to Laurie, Seth was already unstable, but Korea had stolen what remained of Seth’s mental acuities. Sam had felt he was a normal guy, or had he? Maybe not if he’d felt compelled to join the military just to prove he was as masculine as anyone else. Now that Sam thought about it, what made a man exactly that? Ritchie was an alcoholic and Tommy probably was too, nothing virile about that. Eric was a painter, another artsy-fartsy occupation, but thank God Eric’s bad foot had kept him from being drafted. Stanford had been too old for Korea and Laurie…. Laurie would have had the good sense to claim he was a homosexual. But Seth had chosen to fight, just like Sam had. What in their natures had felt so compromised that time in the military would assuage it?
And now, well, now both were…. Both men were screwed, Sam wryly smiled to himself. Seth might have come home, but he was forever marked by time in mental institutions as well as shock therapy. Sam’s wife wanted him to give her a divorce, which even thinking about made Sam’s stomach twist into knots. That’s what Renee wanted, so then she wouldn’t have to deal with all the pain he had caused her years before. Why had
their lives turned out this way, what in God’s name was this all about? Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, then looked around the room. It was void of warmth and color, even with the boysenberry vines captured in full summer glory. It was a room empty of the life children brought to a home, with toys cluttering the coffee table and floor. Not even the blue barn could change it, for that gelding, mare, and those ponies were safe behind closed doors. The only way Sam could retrieve them was to….
He shook his head, then took his hands from his pockets. Cracking his knuckles, he thought about how Eric had exorcised his own demons, placing them upon canvas after canvas. Eric also feted his passions in the same manner, all the pictures of Lynne, Jane, and how many of Sam and Renee’s families, not to mention those of Renee, and of Marek too. There were none of the New Yorkers, although maybe Eric might get Laurie and Stanford to pose next month. Sam couldn’t hide a small grin. Stanford would resist as much as Sam always did, but Laurie might just twist Stanford’s arm….
Then Sam shivered; Eric no longer asked Sam about being in a painting. What if Sam brought that up? Would it shock Renee into realizing that if her husband was willing to do something so detested, maybe their marriage was worth saving? Maybe that wasn’t the correct spirit in which to consider such an action. If Sam agreed to let Eric paint his portrait, it couldn’t be about how it might affect Renee. But if that was a side effect…. Sam shook his head, then stalked about the living room. Then he stared at the empty wall space. Even when the blue barn returned, that painting wouldn’t help Sam and Renee unless Sam was willing to…. Shit or get off the pot, Ahern. One of the two Sam, one of the two.
Sam smiled; Josh’s voice was so clear, like he was standing right beside him. What Sam was pondering, however, felt far more ominous than any previous consideration. This was more important than choosing to enlist, maybe even more meaningful than asking for Renee’s hand in marriage. It didn’t top their actual wedding, for that was bound in a sacrament to God. But divorce was strictly against church teachings; it was one topic upon which Christ had expressly preached. Only for marital unfaithfulness could a man offer his wife a certificate of divorce. And if she ever remarried, she would be guilty of adultery. Sam didn’t think about the man who might come after him, only about Renee. Then Sam permitted a small thought to himself. He loved his wife beyond reason. Never, for any purpose, could he imagine being apart from her.
Equally, what they now shared seemed as wrong as splitting up. He had to do something or else Renee would leave him. Not that she said anything of the sort, but eventually she would get fed up and that would be the end of it. Sam’s heart lurched in his chest. No longer could he sit back and wait to see what occurred. Counseling hadn’t helped, not that he blamed Marek. Renee was becoming like Seth, too afraid to confront the problem. Sam had been that way, maybe he still was. But the stakes were now too high for Sam to keep his head in the sand. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the kitchen. Grabbing his keys, Sam fought the sick feeling in his stomach. He had to do this, for Renee’s sake. It might be the only way to save their marriage, no matter how much Sam loathed the idea.
That night, Renee came home to the smells of pork and applesauce. Another scent wafted, but she couldn’t discern it, other than it was dessert-like in nature. She placed her coat and purse on the sofa, but kept the car key in her hand. Sam had installed a pegboard in the kitchen where their key rings now resided. Before they had only possessed one set of keys. But Renee’s world would never be the same.
Although, she pondered, finding her husband hovering over the stove, her life would always be like this, with just herself, and maybe one other, over which to worry. Renee’s heart had been stony all weekend after telling Sam the truth. Yet, a day spent around Vivian Kramer had softened Renee some; she had learned that Vivian’s only living relatives were a niece who lived in Colorado with her husband and their two young children. It was the daughter of Vivian’s younger brother, but that brother and his wife were also deceased. The topic had been broached during lunch when Vivian shared the latest snapshots of the youngsters, a boy and girl. Renee hadn’t wanted to see those photos, but she’d smiled, then briefly glanced at them, the boy about Robbie Carver’s age. Black and white pictures didn’t do them justice, Vivian had ruefully sighed. Annie’s red hair was the same shade as Renee’s, while Paul’s blue eyes were as bright as the sky. Vivian was going to visit them for Easter, what she did every year, as they were the only living blood relatives she had. Renee had been shocked, but Vivian hadn’t sounded sad, only truthful. Some families were very, very small.
Coming home to Sam that night, Renee had to reassess her previous mindset. At least she had her husband. Then slight anxiety rumbled in her gut; what if Sam did want a family so badly that divorcing Renee to marry another woman was preferable? Renee bit her lip, then blinked away tears. Sometimes she could be impetuous, although it had never gotten her in trouble. Usually it was from talking too much, but her most loved accepted her ramblings. Yet, had she finally stepped over a line, might Sam have tired of her sullenness?
She approached him cautiously. He turned to her, a smile on his face. Instantly her intestines calmed, although her heart still pounded. He held out one arm for her, but didn’t speak. She nodded, stepping his way, then snuggling against him. He squeezed her tightly, a spatula in his other hand, tending the chops. Renee closed her eyes, wondering about their future. If Vivian Kramer could live alone all these years, only a few relatives in her sphere, maybe Renee and Sam could do the same.
Sam’s grip was strong, but not cloying. He always knew just how to hold her, he knew her so well. And she knew him, yet could they get past this schism? For, as Renee felt his affections in that one-armed embrace, she also detected his need for progeny, but that was more from finally learning what that other scent was; to the left of the stove half a pie sat in a tin. Sam had gone to the Snyders that day, but at least he brought home dessert.
“Apple?” Renee asked, her tone chirpy. She hadn’t had any of Lynne’s pie in…. She blocked out the rest of that thought, but studied the pie. Then she inhaled again. It wasn’t apple, although it wasn’t boysenberry either. “Any custard to go with it?”
Sam chuckled. “Yes, there’s custard, but no, it’s not apple.”
“Pumpkin then?”
“Nope.”
Renee was puzzled. “Well what, or aren’t you gonna tell me?”
Now Sam laughed. He turned off the flame, placing the spatula in the spoon rest. He embraced Renee with both of his arms, then nibbled on her earlobe. She giggled, feeling a lightness within her chest, but not like the ease she had known just last week. This was honest, which made her wince, then she wondered if perhaps she had indeed been too hasty with Marek. Then she gasped, which turned into a soft moan. Sam had moved from her earlobe to her neck. They hadn’t been this close in so long, maybe Sam had taken her words far more deeply than she imagined.
For several minutes they necked, then Renee’s stomach growled. She pulled away, still feeling giddy. “You better feed me first. But we can wait for the pie until afterwards.”
Sam smiled, although a brief pain flashed in his eyes. Renee concentrated instead on his grin, then on how he caressed her face. “I need to tell you something before we do anything else.”
Now Renee gazed into his blue eyes, which were clear like water, as if a huge weight had been removed from his shoulders, or most of it had. Renee began to shake; did he want a divorce? Had he spent the afternoon with Jane, affirming his need for a child? Renee blinked, trying not to look at him, but those eyes, so kingfisher blue, blazed like lights on a police car, and she was drawn into his gaze, no way to pull herself free. Her lips trembled, her knees knocked, and that odd peace again filled her bones. She wanted him to just tell her he was doing as she had asked, then they could share one last meal, although Renee might skip the pie.
br /> “I saw Eric today, well, Eric, Lynne and, um….” Sam hesitated, then cleared his throat. “And Jane. But mostly I talked to Eric. Renee, when he gets back from New York, I’m gonna let him paint my portrait.”
“You’re gonna what?” Renee had been caught off guard by how Sam said Jane’s name, as if the tenderness he felt toward that little girl had to be veiled. Renee felt pinpricks along her chest, then she wondered if that was from hearing Sam say Jane’s name, or what else he mentioned. “You’re gonna let Eric paint you?”
Sam nodded, again stroking Renee’s cheek. “Me and the new car, so for a few days, you’ll have to drive the old one. Thought we could give it to my folks, the painting I mean, for Christmas. By then maybe everyone’ll be used to the car, or maybe I’m just being silly. I mean, I do need to tell them about it. But, um, yeah. Eric was pretty happy, I mean, he’s been bugging me for ages and….”
Now Renee caressed Sam’s face, feeling stubble and warm skin. He had come home to her, but then Sam had been home for years and years. But suddenly Renee felt the flesh of a man she hadn’t realized was missing. Yet this Sam Ahern was the very person who had taken her out on dates, asked her to marry him, then stood at the altar as a priest tied together their lives forever. For the rest of time, natural and heavenly, Renee was Sam’s wife, regardless of babies or pies or paintings. Or just one painting; had Sam actually asked Eric to paint him?
“Are you serious? Sam, I, I’m, I uh….” Renee couldn’t even think of a proper response. Did Eric understand all that Sam had done that afternoon, did Lynne? It wasn’t merely a social call or pie shared or even pie brought home. This was on the magnitude of what had occurred last October when the Soviets backed down over the Cuban Missile Crisis. This was tantamount to world peace being achieved. “Sam, honey, why?”
“Well, why not? I mean, it’s about time you know. Plus this way the new car will be documented. Won’t be like how he painted that damn barn, but a new car’s pretty special too.”
Sam’s tone was light, nearly mischievous, but Renee didn’t miss the undercurrents of fear. Nor was she able to avoid the real reason why; Sam might want to be a father, but deeper was his affection for his impetuous wife, who wasn’t at all perfect, or maybe not even deserving. Or maybe that was the way to describe them both, yet, together they had been joined and together they would spend the rest of their days. Renee began to cry, two different sorts of peace tangled within her heart. One was authentic, the other a placebo. If she accepted the false calm, all of Sam’s actions would be negated. But if she allowed the truth, how great might be the pain?
Sam’s gentle kiss clouded her judgment. Then as his passions were stoked, Renee was rendered helpless. True peace overwhelmed her, at least when it came to this man. They wouldn’t have children, but she couldn’t live without him. He couldn’t live without her either, and the proof of that statement wasn’t in his kisses or the waiting chops, but in a yet-to-be started piece of art. One of these days Sam would sit for Eric. And when Sam did, Renee would be close. Not that she needed to witness or cajole. Only that Sam would require her presence. Together they were bound, Renee admitted to herself, as Sam’s lips traveled back to her neck. Together they would remain.
Chapter 96