Jane Snyder’s first steps occurred on Sunday, the third of March. They were witnessed by her parents, Marek Jagucki, and the Canfields at the Snyder home after lunch had been served. With Helene standing beside her, Jane finally put one foot in front of the other, small wobbly steps that led her straight to her Uncle Marek. Eric was snapping photographs while Lynne stood behind the pastor, who squatted in the middle of the living room as a host of Fran and Louie’s children cheered.
Sam and Renee’s absence was the only pall, although later Eric lamented that Stan and Laurie weren’t present either. Yet, in another month, Jane would impress them in person, and hopefully by then Stanford’s funk might be truly behind him. Laurie had called the Snyders on Friday, reporting that Stan was making improvements, although his mother was nearing the end. Yet Laurie hadn’t sounded overly saddened; Eric had detected relief in Laurie’s tone, which Lynne noted in Laurie’s most recent correspondence. Laurie hadn’t minced words to either Snyder, but Jane had been hovering on the edge of full mobility, somewhat distracting her parents from Laurie’s revelations. Or their attentions were diverted by the Aherns.
That Sunday, Sam and Renee weren’t at work and church was long over. Eric and Lynne assumed the couple was at home, but not even Fran and Louie could give a reason to why Jane’s godparents were missing that afternoon’s festivities. Lynne had invited the Canfields over for a late lunch and Marek was free, but when Lynne called Renee to join them, she’d been met with icy silence, then an abrupt refusal, without any pertinent reason given as an excuse. Lynne hadn’t argued, although Eric had then called Sam, gently inquiring. Sam’s answer had been as vague as Renee’s, which had grieved the Snyders. Now Sam seemed as altered as his previously chipper wife. But other than praying for the Aherns, there was little for any of their loved ones to do.
These same guests would return in less than two weeks for Jane’s first birthday party. Marek said he had refused other invites for that date, but his brown eyes had twinkled, making several Canfield children giggle. He got along well with each of them, from Helene to Sally, who at nearly sixteen was a copy of her mother, not only in looks. Sally tended to her youngest siblings as well as Fran did, but when Marek spoke to her, Sally responded not as a weary teen but a smiling young lady who found his questions intriguing. Marek seemed ageless to Lynne and her husband, a distinct contrast to Fran and Louie, who looked and acted their forty-plus years. Yes, Marek was just Sam’s age, but he conversed with Sally and her brother Will as if their equal, but not in a juvenile manner. And he spoke to Jane in Polish like she was much older than Helene or Johnny. Jane’s birthday would include these people, none of whom were related to her, but who clearly constituted her family. If Renee and Sam missed that party, then Lynne and Eric would be disheartened.
But no one mentioned that possibility. As the Canfields readied to leave, Fran asked what she could bring. Lynne replied that only Fran’s family was necessary, but Fran shook her head. “No Lynne, I’m talking food. There’s nine of us and….”
“Mrs. Canfield, you have a rather important tasking in that alone.” Marek smiled, then gently patted Fran’s shoulder. “I plan on bringing a little something; you concentrate on these lovely children.”
“Not more pie, I assume.” Louie joined his wife. “I hear that’s not quite up to Lynne’s standards.”
Marek laughed. “Oh my goodness, bless Mrs. Harmon’s heart. No, no pie from me. Actually I’m going to make some caramel slices, or I’m going to try. They were my favorite English treat, but we’ll see how they come out. If I arrive empty-handed, you’ll know they were a dismal failure.”
Lynne and Eric gazed at each other, noting the jovial exchange between Louie, Fran, and Marek as Sally, Will, and Jaime stood at their parents’ sides, also with smiles. Perhaps those older children weren’t used to their religious figureheads being so down to earth. Or maybe they didn’t see Marek in that way; he’d insisted they call him by his Christian name, as Pastor Jagucki had seemed too formal. Lynne wondered if soon enough this pastor would be Uncle Marek to more than Jane. The Canfield kids had enough uncles and aunts, but two of them had seemed to disappear. Perhaps Marek’s inclusion would mask Sam and Renee’s absences.
The Canfields departed with Fran still pestering Lynne about what to bring for the party. Other than a gift, which Lynne knew Fran would insist upon, Lynne didn’t need anything. She would bake a cake and a pie or two, there would be ice cream as well. But the gathering wouldn’t be more elaborate than what they had shared that day, for Jane wouldn’t remember any of it. Eric and Lynne weren’t getting her extravagant gifts; she needed new clothes, perhaps some books. But she had plenty of toys from Christmas and a few presents had already arrived from Michael Taylor. Laurie said he would send Jane a card, but he wanted to take her to FAO Schwarz in April, and if whatever Jane chose was too big to fit into her parents’ luggage, Laurie would simply buy another suitcase for all of Jane’s loot.
Eric had laughed at that warning while Lynne had smiled. It had been included at the end of Laurie’s last letter, which Lynne read with a new understanding. Laurie wasn’t trying to hide anything; Stan was feeling better while Seth was…. Seth was a time bomb, Laurie had pointedly noted, and while Laurie loved his cousin, no longer could he presume Seth would ever be healed.
The hope that Lynne had wanted to share with Laurie had indeed been accepted, but not on behalf of the man for whom Lynne had wished it. But maybe Stanford’s malaise had been worse than Eric and Lynne had understood it. And perhaps Laurie was simply accepting his cousin’s impairment for what it was. Renee had done that with her husband, when Sam came home. Then Lynne’s heart ached, as she waved goodbye to the Canfields, Eric beside her, Marek on Lynne’s other side, Jane in that man’s competent hold. Renee’s hope was extinguished and perhaps Sam’s was too. The last time Sam and Eric had spoken about adoption, Sam had relayed a sliver of anticipation. But Lynne hadn’t seen Renee in a few weeks and the Aherns’ absence that Sunday spoke of definite closure. No one had mentioned it, but their nonappearance was too blatant. If they didn’t attend Jane’s birthday party….
Lynne shivered, then she took a deep breath. “That was so nice. I guess I’ll have to think of something for Fran to bring.”
“I think you will,” Eric smiled. “I can ask Sam if she has any Ahern family specialty. He can’t be the only good cook in that clan.”
“Indeed,” Marek said. “Maybe it’s the Nolans who aren’t overly culinary.”
Lynne gazed at her pastor; how well had he ingratiated himself into their sphere, knowing Renee’s maiden name, or maybe that was from the Nolan portraits in Eric’s show last August. Then Lynne wished to cry; since last August Sam and Renee’s lives had been a long tumultuous storm. Not that Fran and Louie’s world hadn’t been rocked to its core, but now, over six months later, there seemed to be little lasting pain. Louie had held Jane, although not for long, for she had wriggled in his grasp, aching to be on her feet. Fran had asked Lynne, in a roundabout manner, if Jane might receive a sibling in the coming year. Lynne had smiled, noting that they were hoping to add to their family in God’s time. Lynne wasn’t pregnant and Eric was starting to tease that their next child was simply waiting for next month. One baby conceived on the West Coast, the next on the East.
Would the Snyders have two children before Sam and Renee had any? Lynne tried to keep tears at bay, but she couldn’t, brushing liquid from her eyes. Marek said nothing, but he spoke something in Polish that seemed to elicit Jane’s attention. Leaving the men and her daughter, Lynne turned for the house, praying for the Aherns with every step.
Two days later, Lynne and Jane met up with Sam at the market. Jane babbled Ma-ma-ma while her mother tried to make small talk, but Sam wasn’t receptive. Yet he couldn’t keep his eyes from the chatty baby in the cart, whom he hadn’t seen in a few weeks. Jane looked altered, her hair to her jaw, her fea
tures no longer those of an infant. She was almost a year old, Sam knew fully well. And her eyes had never changed from the striking blue that to Sam was like staring into a mirror. She did have his eyes, like he actually was Eric’s blood sibling.
Sam left the store before finishing his list, but he didn’t want to bump into the Snyder women again. He arrived home, then rued his impatience, for he hadn’t bought the chops for that night’s dinner, nor had he gotten the eggs necessary for custard. He still cooked as before, although Renee had lost some weight, and maybe Sam had too. They ate out of necessity, not for the pleasure of previous. She wasn’t the same woman and he probably wasn’t the same man. But Sam never thought about when those roles had changed. Considering anything from before the start of that year was too damn painful.
He wasn’t sure if they would attend Jane’s birthday party; he wanted to go, he ached for the pleasant days and weeks that had existed before. Before grated on Sam, for it was a varied delineation: before they had met Robbie, before Fran lost the twins, even before Renee’s declaration that had thrown their lives off track. Then Sam had to shake his head, for it wasn’t Renee’s fault. He had dithered for far too long, and now this was the consequence, no chops for dinner or eggs to make dessert. At this rate, Sam and Renee would need new wardrobes; soon nothing would fit them properly.
Once the groceries were put away, Sam took stock of his cupboards. Several necessary items were missing, but he wasn’t surprised, for he couldn’t think straight anymore. His work at the VA hospital had been shoddy, at least to his high standards, and he hoped that hadn’t rubbed off on Renee at her job. She worked full time, although unlike at the hospital, there was no opportunity to earn extra shifts. Not that they needed the money; a healthy nest egg earned interest in their savings account, but Sam had no idea what they would do with it. They could pay off the house, but that held no appeal. Then Sam sighed. He hadn’t paid off the house because he secretly hoped Renee would change her mind. He didn’t think she would; she’d made no bones about it, that children weren’t for them. But now Sam understood his wife’s long-held dream, harbored since his return from Korea. All that time Renee had hoped to be a mother. Now Sam desired fatherhood in the same wistful manner.
Maybe this was his punishment for being so obstinate all that time. But Renee was suffering, nothing was fair about that. And what about their godchild? Jane didn’t resemble the baby Sam so well remembered from nearly a year ago; he would never forget her puffy eyes and cheeks, the lovely fragrance that had woven into him, healing a modicum of pain. Her eyes were still just as blue, but knowledgeable and aching to learn more. She had wanted him to collect her from the grocery cart, stretching out her arms in his direction. But Sam hadn’t acquiesced to her request, in part that if he had, he would have talked more with Lynne, or rather stumbled over what to say. And if he had hoisted Jane from that cart, the ache within Sam’s heart would have been unbearable.
Weekly Sam dreamed about Robbie, which hadn’t been as brutal as other dreams Sam had suffered, although waking from these dreams wasn’t easy. In some Robbie was five, in some he was older. Never was he an adult, merely a child in various stages that Sam would never get to experience. But Jane’s altered appearance now grated upon Sam, the days he was missing, Renee too. They were missing out on Jane’s life and for what reason, to punish themselves or to hurt a little girl who carried her aunt’s name, and who had indeed lifted many of Sam’s burdens. Their refusal wasn’t helpful to anyone, it was plain stubbornness. Pig-headedness, Eric might offer, on both of their parts. But Eric’s recent words to Sam had been in a gentler vein. Eric hadn’t needed to bludgeon Sam with threats. Sam was doing that all on his own.
When Renee came home, she found her husband in the kitchen. But Sam wasn’t standing in front of the stove; he was seated at their table, looking through a cookbook. No meat was frying, nothing bubbling in pots. “What’s for dinner?” she asked, curiosity breaking down the wall she had carefully built over the last several weeks.
Renee wouldn’t deny the shield she had placed around her heart. It was the only thing keeping her sane, and she fully accepted that too. It was necessary, she allowed, brought on by last year, all her time at the hospital as well. One couldn’t be too vigilant, Renee permitted, when she allowed herself to ponder more than work, the weather, and what Sam might cook for dinner. Nothing tasted as good as it used to, she had found, as her clothes were getting looser, new colleagues noting she’d lost weight. Renee had never been this thin, well, when Sam was gone, she’d squeezed into skirts she had worn back in early high school. “What, the store run out of pork chops?” she said abruptly, not wishing to think about more than what she could see.
Considering the past haunted Renee, so she no longer ruminated about anything other than what was pertinent. And right then, she was hungry. “What’re we eating tonight?” she said with a huff. “Or am I doing the cooking?”
“I forgot to get chops at the market. I ran into Lynne and Jane and….”
As soon as Sam said Jane, Renee nodded, then turned to leave the kitchen. The Snyders were Renee’s past, although she felt a little guilty about that. Too many dreams about Jane had required Renee to sever those relationships, dreams that also featured Robbie Carver. When Renee did think about him, she always added his last name, which was never meant to be Ahern. That child was Robbie Carver and Jane was a Snyder and….
And the next thing Renee knew was Sam gripping her arm. “Honey, we need to talk about this.”
They stood right in the kitchen doorway, as if Sam needed her within his favored realm even to speak about…. “Sam, I’m starving. If there’s nothing to eat, I’m gonna change, then go get a hamburger.”
“Renee, Lynne asked if we were coming to the party, Jane’s birthday party. I didn’t give her an answer but….”
“Of course we’re not going.” Renee spoke with finality. Then she sighed. “Well, if you wanna, go ahead. Now, do you want me to bring you a hamburger or….”
“Renee, we have to go.”
She stared at him, then blinked, doing a double take. Sam’s face was gaunt, his shoulders poking through his shirt. He’d appeared this way when he came back from Korea, but quickly he’d put on weight that Renee had sometimes wished might fall away, but only when she was in the throes of hoping he’d change his mind about starting a family. Or having a family or…. Now those hopes were dead; Renee had buried them as far into her gut as she could manage. This was her fault, for she never should have asked for anything more than this man. He came home, what else was she to have wished for?
Children had been for others to enjoy, their siblings of course, and about anyone else that came along. Even the Snyders and Renee closed her eyes, not wishing to think about Jane, for Jane always led to the child Renee would never see again. She missed Robbie with an ache only noted when Sam had been gone. But while Sam had returned, there was no possible way for Robbie Carver to find his way to this house. This house was merely for Sam, Renee, and a host of lost opportunities.
She was glad to be standing in the doorway, not having to divert her eyes from Eric’s Christmas gift. If Renee had her way, she would ask Laurie if perhaps Stanford might want to sell it, for those boysenberry vines were nearly as painful to view as gazing into Sam’s mournful eyes. Renee knew his heart and what sort of ironic joke was it that now Sam wanted kids? He hurt, she knew that, but regardless, Sam wanted them to…. He wanted them to go to Jane’s party. No way on God’s green earth could Renee do that. If she did that…. “You go Sam. I just can’t.”
It didn’t hurt to say those words, one small truth Renee could allow. She simply couldn’t step foot in the Snyders’ home, or through that gate, or even approach their road, which was now so close to her work. But something had altered within Renee, she wasn’t even sure what. Just a few weeks ago she had been able to sit in their kitchen, sip coffee,
speak to…. Then Renee was seized with what felt like the beginnings of a stroke; her left arm went numb, but shooting pains traveled through her chest cavity, like a heart attack. Then she couldn’t breathe, so many symptoms causing various serious ailments. The one thing Renee could do was to tightly shut her eyes. The sound within her head was the worst; it was Jane’s voice, calling for her mama. The day that Jane Renee Snyder said Ma-ma was the last time Renee had seen her godchild.
The next thing Renee knew she was sitting on the sofa, Sam’s arms around her. She could feel him, even on her left side, and she was breathing, and her heart no longer ached. But tears poured from her eyes, Sam’s soft croon in her ears. Why, she wanted to ask, yet her own voice was silent, for God knew her queries, how could he not, for they were all she pondered, albeit subconsciously. To acknowledge that question would have been as miserable as returning to the Snyders, hearing Jane say that word over and over like a sledgehammer against Renee’s skull. No one would ever call Renee Mama, not that Robbie had, but he would have, eventually. Now he had no one to bestow that title upon, only a grandmother he had never met before. Before…. Renee hated the past, for it meant nothing. That moment carried no resonance and the future? What was the significance of yet one more day lived with such a tremendous emptiness sucking all the joy from Renee’s being?
“I won’t leave you,” Sam whispered. “I know it hurts honey, but I’ll always be here for you.”
She nodded, for that was true. Sam wouldn’t abandon her and she was grateful for that, only because someone would clean the house, do the shopping, cook the dinner. Yet, that night nothing waited, other than a mediocre hamburger from the stand near the hospital. Renee pulled away from her husband, searching his weary blue eyes for any reason to stand up, then pack a bag. But he did love her and guilt for her sorrow teemed in those eyes, the same color as…. “I just can’t do it Sam, no way can I go there.”
He stroked her hair, which was growing out, in that Renee hadn’t felt compelled to get it trimmed. Nothing mattered, not Jane, nor church, nor…. Renee’s arm went numb again, but this time she ignored it. Those shooting pains returned and she dismissed those too. She was waiting for her lungs to stop working. If she was dead, nothing would ever hurt her again.
Depression wasn’t an illness Renee was familiar with, other than Seth’s troubles. Sam dealt with it at the VA hospital, but that was excusable, for those men had been to hell and back. Yet Renee didn’t equate her misery with what those former soldiers had suffered. But as Sam began speaking to her in a tender voice, using that very term, Renee felt pricks all over her body. At first they were subtle, like she’d stepped on a tack. Then they became more prevalent, like walking on sharp rocks. Finally they dug into her skin like that sledgehammer was gripped in Sam’s right hand. Then the worst, when he mentioned she should talk to someone. Talk to someone about what, Renee wanted to say.
“Actually, I think maybe that Pole. He’s not Catholic, but he’d be discreet. Or maybe an actual professional.” Sam paused, then coughed. “Renee, you need to talk to somebody about this. I love you honey, but I feel like I’m losing you, and God knows I can’t do that. Renee, I cannot live without you.”
Sam’s tone was plaintive and as soon as he stopped speaking, the pounding stopped. Renee opened her eyes, gazing at her husband. Tears dotted Sam’s face, but his remorse was lessened. “Honey, maybe if you got it all off your chest. You’ve been under so much stress and….”
Renee nodded, taking a deep breath. Then she realized the meaning of that breath as oxygen fell into her lungs like she’d been trapped underwater, begging for air. She kept nodding as if at the bottom of a well, being slowly brought to the surface, light coming closer, the suffocating darkness diminishing. She still felt incapable of attending Jane’s party, but the idea of speaking about all which swirled within her heart wasn’t terrifying, especially not to that pastor. Pastor Jagucki was a nice fellow, Renee had always thought, a lot like Laurie, so personable. And Sam was right; he wasn’t Catholic, and maybe no one else would have to know. The last thing Renee wanted was anyone from St. Anne’s aware. Those loose tongues that had wagged so violently when Lynne was still a nurse would be even more vicious toward one of their own.
Sam kissed her face, then squeezed her hands. “I’m gonna call him now, see if he has some time this week.” He smiled at her, released her hands, then stood from the sofa. “Maybe in the evenings, well, not on Wednesday, but….”
Renee couldn’t do any more than nod. She felt like an idiot, but at least it didn’t hurt. As Sam went into the kitchen, she glanced at the paintings on the wall. The landscape was gentle on her eyes. She avoided the boysenberries, however, wishing for the blue barn. Somehow, whenever she stared at the blue barn, all of Renee’s worries drifted away.
Chapter 89