On Sunday evening, the Snyders shared a meal with Marek at St. Matthew’s. Marek had again made roast beef with Yorkshire puddings, in hopes to remind Eric and Lynne of where they truly belonged. All night they had spoken about their upcoming trip, but Marek’s tone was jovial, wishing them a good visit alongside a timely return. Otherwise he’d have to hunt high and low for someone to replace Lynne’s acumen within the kitchen.
Lynne argued that Marek’s skills were above par, but he pooh-poohed that, noting that Sam Ahern was the true chef. Yet no one came close to besting Lynne’s skills at dessert, and as he said that, Marek glanced at the pie, sitting on the counter. He had requested peach and Lynne had obliged. He would keep the leftovers, generously sharing them tomorrow with Mrs. Kenny. And when the Snyders returned, Marek would give back the empty tin. He raised his eyebrows with that statement, then said something in Polish to Jane. She laughed, then looked at her parents with a suspicious gaze.
“What’d you tell her,” Eric said. “That she needs to throw a nightly fit at Stanford’s?”
Marek chuckled. “Just that we’ll all miss her, and you two as well.” Marek winked at Lynne, who giggled. “But I suppose after a month you might be ready to return regardless of how exciting New York City turns out to be.”
“After a few weeks, I’m certain of it.” Eric smiled, then gripped his wife’s hand. “But if we hadn’t agreed to Laurie’s terms, he’d have come hunting for us. Or rather, Agatha’s orders. Four weeks should placate her, unless Jane does fuss. Then they might send us packing after only a few days.”
“I highly doubt that.” Marek sat forward, then unhooked the high chair tray, releasing Jane. She tried to stand, but Marek collected her, then sat back down with a happy girl in his grasp. “I’m sure Jane will be at her most charming, adding new names to her long list of admirers. Mrs. Kenny has already been lamenting your absence. But I think a few days’ worth of peach pie will make it go down more smoothly.”
Lynne stood, gathering empty dinner plates. “Shall I slice that pie?”
“Oh, not quite yet,” Marek said, bouncing Jane on his knee. “But you could take the ice cream from the freezer. I’m usually not a fan of pie ala mode, but with the peach, vanilla ice cream seems to fit perfectly.”
“I agree. Not sure why, but something about it calls for ice cream. Maybe it has to do with summer; peach pie seems congruous with that season.” Eric watched as his wife placed the dishes in the sink, then retrieved the ice cream. She put it near the pie, which sat beside three small plates and one plastic dish. Jane would only be served pie, but Eric knew the pastor would share his ice cream with her.
That twosome looked very contented as Marek alternated Polish and English, Jane appearing to comprehend everything he said. Jane babbled in a different cadence around her pastor, depending upon the setting. And while usually here at St. Matthew’s, Marek was Jane’s pastor, that evening he was another uncle, one that she knew only slightly less than Sam. Although, Eric had to admit, maybe now Jane recognized those men on equal levels. Since Sam had offered to be Eric’s next guinea pig, how Sam had approached that topic, Eric hadn’t seen too much of him. But tomorrow Sam was driving them to the airport and Sam would be checking on the house, collecting the mail, watering Lynne’s few indoor plants. Eric expected only Sam would attend to those tasks, for Renee was still keeping to herself. She also hadn’t returned to see Marek for counseling, what Eric had learned from Sam the last time they spoke. Yet Sam hadn’t seemed overly troubled. Eric wondered if Sam agreeing to pose was some sort of trade-off between the couple. Eric also pondered just when the Snyders and both of the Aherns would once again share a meal.
Marek had insisted on cooking for them that evening, not wishing Lynne to do more than bake. Lynne had been happy to acquiesce to that request as their refrigerator was bare. When planning their excursion, Eric hadn’t realized how long four weeks away would be and now he greatly anticipated their return, mostly due to Sam’s request. Yet, that would be a month away, at least. Eric would need a few days’ rest to adequately prepare for such an undertaking. This wasn’t simply a painting of Sam and his new car. Eric wasn’t sure exactly what else he wanted to capture, or what Sam might be willing to share. The only detail Eric knew was that he wished to paint Sam and the Bel-Air at the Aherns’ home, but whether or not the car would be parked in the driveway or along the street was yet to be decided.
By early May, the weather would be fine for Eric to set up his easel on the Aherns’ front lawn, unless Sam didn’t wish to pose out in the open. Otherwise Eric could paint Sam and the Chevy in front of the Snyders’ gate, but the light would be better at the Aherns’ home. Eric had been mulling this over, once the shock of Sam’s request had subsided. But maybe Sam would change his mind over the next four weeks. Eric wouldn’t be surprised by that at all.
The room was quiet, even Jane subdued. That was how Eric realized he’d been far away, but three faces smiled at him, even his daughter, who seemed fully aware her father was often in another world. Eric chuckled, then glanced at the counter. Condensation had formed on the ice cream container, but Lynne had yet to slice the pie. “Were you waiting for me to come back to Earth before you served dessert?” Eric asked his wife. Then he gazed at Marek. “Or were you just gonna eat without me?”
“Lynne seemed willing to wait another minute, but Jane was getting antsy.” Marek grinned, then tickled Jane’s chin. “Although she’s a patient girl, but then she knows her father very well.”
The tone Marek used was that of a man who also knew Eric, causing the painter to smile. “Well, bless her heart. Lynne and I are pretty lucky to have such an understanding daughter.”
“Indeed.” Marek stood, then handed Jane to her father. “Now Lynne, please be seated. You brought the pie, but I insist to serve our final course.” Marek headed to the counter, gently shooing Lynne to her chair. Eric kissed his daughter’s cheek as Lynne sat beside him while Marek cut into the pie. Within minutes all were seated together, the scent of peaches wafting throughout the kitchen. Eric fed Jane, snatching bites in between hers, but omitting the ice cream. Jane began to protest until Marek collected her. Then she alternated between begging for more ice cream, all the while making a face as the cold treat hit her tongue.
Eric couldn’t tell if Jane’s babblings were Polish in nature or those of her parents; maybe ice cream was translated by a universal code. Lynne stood, taking the baby from Marek, but that was only a mother’s awareness that her offspring had enough sweets for one evening. Jane whimpered, but soon her cries were that of a tired child in need of sleep. Marek noted the same, to which Lynne nodded. That was Eric’s cue to finish what remained of his dessert so the family could head home.
Even though they wouldn’t see Marek for a month, no prolonged goodbyes were necessary. Marek shook Eric’s hand, patted Lynne’s shoulder, but gave Jane a kiss on her cheek. She wasn’t disturbed from her rest, nestled against her mother. Marek walked them to their car, then wished them safe travels. From his rear view mirror, Eric watched as the pastor remained on the sidewalk, waving to them.
The drive home didn’t take long and once inside the house, Jane was dressed for bed. While Lynne put Jane to sleep, Eric walked about the lower level; suitcases waited near the living room French doors, the fireplace was cleared of ashes, the house in a tidy state. All of Eric’s paintings were either locked safely in the outbuilding or were stored upstairs in one of the extra bedrooms. The sunroom was empty as if nothing happened in there.
Eric wandered into that room, then turned on a lamp that he used when painting after the sun had set. Normally that time was reserved for his impressions of Lynne, but he hadn’t painted her alone in a while. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, but usually Lynne insisted that Jane be included. Eric hadn’t pondered Lynne’s reasons; his mind was full of trip details, and of course, for the last few days, about painting
Sam’s portrait. In the quiet, without any painting supplies in view, Eric scanned the room, feeling an ominous sense rising around him. It had nothing to do with Sam; this concerned who they wouldn’t see in New York.
Yet, Eric had no inkling of what might happen concerning Seth. That man was already in Florida, and in a way, Eric was relieved that he wouldn’t have to meet Seth. Eric wanted this trip to resonate with happy memories, even if a few poignant moments intruded. Condolences would be offered in person to Michael as well as to Stanford. Yet, if what Laurie had said was true, Stanford might not need much comfort. He might not wish to speak about his late mother, which Eric would respect. Perhaps Laurie might be more forthcoming about the loss of Constance Taylor. But Eric didn’t think that Stanford’s heart was a stone when it came to his family.
And would Eric, Lynne, and Jane be cemented even further into Stanford’s clan? Eric harbored no doubts about that, even if it ran contrary to everything Stanford believed. Eric had told Stanford about Sam’s request mostly because Stanford still was Eric’s dealer. Yet, Eric had no plans for that painting; Sam had mentioned he wanted to give it to his parents for Christmas. So why had Eric felt compelled to share that news? Eric chuckled softly, feeling ready to move from working in this room to his studio, or at other outdoor locations. He hoped to find time to sketch Stanford and Laurie, probably within their apartment, or perhaps at Michael’s. Eric wouldn’t badger either man, but he was going to mention it. He knew Laurie wouldn’t argue, but Stanford was another story. Eric wasn’t sure what that man might say.
Previously Eric assumed Stanford would put up several arguments against the idea. But now Stanford’s world was changed. His mother was dead, that was foremost. Sam’s request had probably shaken up Stanford, which Eric thought was for the good. Who would he actually depict first, Sam on canvas or Stanford in pencil? Eric wouldn’t make a wager on either scenario.
As Lynne came downstairs, Eric stepped to meet her, reaching his wife as she entered the living room. She looked tired, but she’d been busy all day, and not only in the kitchen. Packing their last few items, she had gone over coordinating lists, and Eric appreciated all her efforts. Traveling with an infant was complicated, but Laurie had told them not to worry about more than clothes for Jane; one of his sisters was lending a stroller, while Stanford’s sister Melanie had offered a high chair and play pen. Even Agatha had said to let her know what else Jane might need, but Eric didn’t think more items were required. Lynne snuggled against him and Eric grasped her tightly. She had just finished her period, which had also been well-timed. Eric hadn’t spoken about his suspicions, but if they conceived while on vacation, maybe the break would be just what the doctor ordered.
Four weeks away would be a significant amount of time, but perhaps it was wholly necessary, and not only for the Snyders. Eric hoped that upon their return Renee would feel up to visiting them, and certainly those in New York were eager for their arrival. He didn’t lament not having traveled sooner, no purpose in ruminating about what might have been. Last autumn’s brief show hadn’t fallen apart due to his absence and he had managed a lot of work in the interim. And now spring was knocking on the door, more here than back east, but by the middle of their sojourn, even New York City would be welcoming a new season. And when they came home…. Eric sighed, feeling a deep fulfillment within his heart. For how many years had he wished to depict Sam’s image and now that event was merely weeks away. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as Eric had always envisioned it, but let them get started with the car as a prop. As long as Sam was comfortable, Eric didn’t care about the setting.
“Are you ready for bed?” Lynne’s voice was soft, also somewhat seductive, making Eric shiver in pleasure. He nodded, then chuckled. “What?” Lynne asked, pulling away.
“Just that you’ve worked so hard all day, how do you have the energy?”
“I don’t know,” she giggled. “But I do. Best to not waste it.”
“Agreed.” Eric kissed her, then again brought her into his grasp. Now he considered nothing but this woman, her warmth and scent and how deeply he loved her. Then he laughed, causing Lynne to stare. If they weren’t leaving tomorrow morning, Eric would lead her into the sunroom and start a painting. Yet all of his supplies were stashed away, did he even have any canvases stretched?
“What are you thinking?” she said. “Eric?”
“Just about how much I love you. Let’s go to bed.”
His tone was still giggly, which made Lynne trace his eyes with her finger. “I think you were considering something else.”
“Well, I was thinking about how much I’d love to paint you. But….”
“But that would be very difficult to accommodate at the present moment.” Then Lynne broke into a wide grin. “I’ll tell you what. When we get home, after we’re unpacked and Jane’s asleep, you can paint me however you want to.”
Her tone was sly, making Eric ache. “What if I don’t wanna wait till the suitcases are empty?”
“Well,” Lynne smiled, “you’ll still have to wait until your daughter’s napping.”
Eric nodded, then chuckled heartily. “You’re absolutely right about that. But once she’s asleep, oh Lynne, then I’m gonna….”
Eric was interrupted by Lynne’s eager kiss. Then she broke away, her laughter heady. Eric joined her, then kissed her again. Then both Snyders pulled apart, Lynne heading up the stairs while Eric checked that all the doors were locked. Soon the couple was huddled under the covers, enjoying one last evening in their own bed.
_______________
Liner Notes
I started this novel in October 2013; at the time, I assumed I’d be penning another short story, the form I had been working in for much of that year. However, at over two-thirds completed, The Hawk currently stands at 444,000 words. Never before have I embarked upon such a large project.
Over the last two years, other than poems for NaPoWriMo, I have written nothing else. Quilting has overtaken much of my free time, as has caring for my family; recently I have become a grandmother of two. I have also nursed my father through the end of his life, which fell upon the heels of my first grandchild’s arrival. Now with time to write and revise, I have chosen to share this behemoth in a beta-type manner. Part Six will most likely be released in early 2016, but please bear with this author while grandchildren, fabrics, and a new familial normal take precedence. In the meantime, thank you for joining me on this journey, which is a search for my Father, as well as Eric’s. As this is a novel in progress, comments concerning this tale are welcome and can be sent to annascottgraham at gmail dot com.
About the Author
Anna Scott Graham was born in 1966 in Northern California. A mother and grandmother, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, some hummingbirds, and numerous quilts.
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