All week Renee had worked nights, which had facilitated the Aherns attending morning mass, which they did not usually do. Since Monday, they had trooped to St. Anne’s along with many other parishioners who also didn’t normally find themselves at church except on Sundays. Sam prayed for a peaceable end to the unfathomable situation, and Renee did too. She also prayed that somehow this would push Sam over the edge about adoption.
Then she asked God to forgive her for using such an incident to further her hopes, but by Friday, as she and Sam knelt in their pew, Renee wondered if this whole mess with the Russians was God’s way of telling her no. Since Monday, Sam had distinctly pulled back from the idea of having a family, which in a way didn’t surprise Renee. In a brief conversation with Lynne on Wednesday, Renee learned her friend was having second thoughts about adding to their family. Not that Lynne felt the world was going to end up in another global conflict, but with such animosity stirred and the most violent weapons poised, was it right to…. Lynne hadn’t been able to end her sentence, for which Renee had been thankful. For if Lynne was rethinking having another baby, perhaps there was no hope for Renee and Sam.
As the couple returned to their seats, Renee wanted to squeeze her husband’s hand. There hadn’t been any time for cuddling for she came home late and exhausted, then they rose for church, a tacitly agreed upon way to start the day. Mass usually eased Renee’s mind, settling her heart, but right now her soul was torn, and there seemed no way to breech the awful possibility of yet another world war. That’s what would happen if President Kennedy and…. Renee wasn’t sure what to call Khrushchev; was he a premier or…. He wasn’t a Prime Minister, that was Harold Macmillan, the leader of Great Britain. Surely that man had a hand in what was going on, but ultimately it was between Kennedy and Khrushchev. Renee prayed for God to strengthen her president. Then she gazed at her husband. Renee wanted to ask God to soften Sam’s heart, but if that wasn’t according to his will…. Since summer, Renee had sought only God’s will. She couldn’t ask for any more than that.
The rest of the service continued as usual, but Renee felt detached, although previous mornings had brought her a modicum of peace. Today all she could think about was if like Lynne, Sam had decided that even adopting a child wasn’t for them. Which, compared to what Lynne was considering, was actually silly; it was one thing to actively not bring another life into this rather crazy world, but orphans needed mothers and fathers, and here were Renee and Sam. Then Renee caught herself; this couldn’t be about her. The words she’d spoken about the twins still haunted, even though she knew her thoughts hadn’t caused that summer’s tragedy. That too had been God’s will, a bitter pill, but then if President Kennedy and Mr. Khrushchev didn’t figure out a solution, things would get so much worse.
Then Renee thought about Laurie and Stanford, and Seth. None of them had met Seth, but now most times when Renee considered the New Yorkers, Seth Gordon was lumped among them. Sam and Laurie had spoken yesterday morning, then Renee smiled, for while at first Sam had sounded skittish, within moments Sam’s tone was like he was chatting with Eric. They hadn’t talked about Seth, that would have made for awkward conversation. Laurie had just wanted them to know that all was well, which might have seemed strange, but these were bizarre times. At any moment, the eastern half of the country could be blown to kingdom come, and who could imagine the counter-strikes in Europe? Renee remembered how, as a young teen, the daily news about the war colored every part of her life, from rationing to a pervasive anxiety displayed by all of her adult relatives. Some of her uncles had served, one had died. But until nearly the end, the armaments were far less damaging than what now was sitting on an island off the coast of Florida. In twenty years, total annihilation had become the planet’s reality, and it wouldn’t take years of combat, but mere seconds. Renee, Sam, and their families were safe in the west, or most of their loved ones. But what about Laurie, Stanford, and Seth?
Then Sam gently squeezed her hand. “Honey, Renee?” She looked at him, the service was over. Renee didn’t recall taking communion, then she shivered; would God consider that a sin? But her thoughts had been with her beloveds, which did include those New Yorkers. And, she sighed, as Sam led them down the aisle, with children that needed parents, regardless if the world was about to end.
Outside the church, a stiff breeze blew, and Renee pulled her coat closed. Sam drove them home, but they didn’t speak. When they reached the house, Renee waited for Sam to pull into the driveway, but instead he parked along the street. She looked at him. “Why’d you park here?”
Gripping the steering wheel, Sam didn’t meet her gaze. “Gotta run over to the hospital.” Then he stared at her. “But I’ll be back before you leave for work.”
“Oh, okay.” Renee grabbed her purse, then got out of the car. She shut the door and started for the house. Halfway there, she turned back. Sam remained in the driver’s seat.
The wind stiffened and she wished she had fastened her coat. She stood still for a few seconds, then just as she took a step, Sam exited the car, shut his door, then headed her way.
She wasn’t sure if she should wait for him. But she did, feeling like an announcement was imminent. It was how he gazed at the ground, his hands deep in his pockets. When he met her eyes, his were downcast. Renee bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to cry there on the front lawn. She knew what he wanted to tell her like she knew her own name.
Maybe he was right, maybe it was for the best. Maybe all he’d said when she came back home just weeks ago was only for that moment. Renee blinked away stinging tears that now readily streamed from her eyes. By the time Sam reached her, it was hard for her to breathe properly.
But he didn’t say those words in full view of their neighbors. He helped her into the house, got her a glass of water, sat her on the sofa, then tenderly explained that while he loved her, and was so sorry, he simply couldn’t consider…. Not at this time, his voice tender and contrite, nor was he sure if there might ever be a time when he wanted to…. Renee blocked out the actual sentences which sliced her heart into pieces. She wept, for that was natural, and she told him she understood, which she did. And finally she said that she loved him, for that too remained true. Renee never argued, never complained. This was God’s will, she said to herself over and over. If Frannie could accept the loss of twin sons, Renee swallowed amid bitter, frosty tears, then this too would eventually pass.
In New York, Stanford couldn’t concentrate. Every time something work-related entered his brain, immediately he lost the ability to focus, which had at first terrified him for that was how his mother had started to lose her mind. But Laurie complained of the same and Eric wasn’t painting and…. And now a few days into this strange new world, how Stanford thought of it, what was the meaning of life if two pig-headed leaders couldn’t come up with a diplomatic answer to peace?
For the first time, Stanford had put world events ahead of everything else. The war hadn’t bothered him and he wasn’t thinking about Korea. Like Marek Jagucki, when someone mentioned war, Stanford assumed they meant a conflict from two decades past. Maybe Laurie considered Korea, if only for Seth. But in the early 1940s, Stanford had been an adult and thankfully his father had kept him out of the fighting. Yet that event hadn’t touched Stanford the way this missile crisis now did, as some of the papers were calling it. The Cuban Missile Crisis had turned into a watershed for Stanford Taylor, and if, God willing, somehow they all got past it, his life might never be the same.
For the first time since his mother had become ill, Stanford was glad she had no idea what was happening. Then Stanford had considered Jane Snyder, which at first had bothered him, just in that previously he only thought about her if Laurie or Agatha mentioned her. Jane was seven months old, but for the rest of her life, nuclear war would hover like a mushroom cloud on the horizon. If it didn’t happen now, and Stanford certainly hoped it wouldn’t, it could happen later, at any given moment when one national figurehea
d decided he didn’t like the color of that morning’s sunrise. It would probably be something that arbitrary, and asinine, Stanford fumed, staring out of his office window into a skyline that could be blown to bits within a matter of seconds. Americans had never suffered devastation within their own country, other than at Pearl Harbor, but suddenly desolation was merely miles off the Florida Keys, aimed right for perhaps the very spot where time after time Stanford had gazed at this city. Then Stanford wondered if some of his clients often considered these sorts of scenarios. He smiled as immediately a few names came to mind who coveted these kinds of moments, using them to further their art. Then he was curious; what did Eric make of all this, and was that man happy or worried that he had brought a child into such a mess of a world?
What sort of life lay ahead for little Jane? Would it matter if she carried her father’s artistic genes or her mother’s medical propensities? Stanford didn’t consider his own nieces and nephews, which didn’t stir any guilt. But he couldn’t erase the sense of futility when thinking about Eric and Lynne’s daughter. Maybe that was due to how much he cared about her, which he loathed admitting, but could no longer deny. Last night in bed Laurie had made that point when he mentioned speaking to Sam Ahern earlier that day, hoping that he and Renee wouldn’t let this deter them from…. Stanford had cringed, not wishing to hear that much about the Aherns, but then he’d grimaced when Laurie brought up the Snyders, that it was probably for the best that Eric hadn’t planned to attend the November exhibit. Laurie hadn’t continued, for what now was there to say? Perhaps all their scheduled activities were straws in the wind, or at least those on the East Coast. Or maybe the whole world was nearing its end and New York would be the first casualty. But why, Stanford had wanted to say, yet he’d held his tongue. Jane was just a baby, so much for her to learn and experience. So much for all of them to accomplish, but maybe it simply didn’t matter anymore.
Ever a practical man, Stanford had listened to Laurie, then fallen into a dreamless sleep for there was still work to be done. Yet now Stanford couldn’t conjure a single reason to do anything but peer at skyscrapers, which were merely tall blocks of concrete and glass. What was this world about if it was doomed to fall? Stanford took a deep breath, feeling that ugly gloom approach. Usually it only bothered him when he visited his mother, although since her move to the nursing home, the unrest had abated. But now turbulence had found him at work, was threatening to upend his routine. He shook himself, trying to keep it at bay. Words formed in his mind and he flinched, then permitted them. If there is a God, he said to himself, then do something about this. Don’t let this happen if only for…. Stanford cleared his throat, trying to push away the image of Eric and Lynne’s daughter, laughing hysterically in Laurie’s grasp. But that mental picture would not be shaken. Stanford blinked away small tears, then reproached himself. He walked to his office door, opened it, then stepped out, telling his secretary that he was leaving for home. And that if she wanted to as well to please do so.
Emily Harold had never heard her boss sound so forlorn. But right after Mr. Taylor left for the day, so did Miss Harold. They weren’t the only ones quitting early in that vast city.
Friday turned into Saturday, which for many people was only different because that week’s work was done. Newscasters, however, worked overtime, but other than recapping what had already occurred, there was little to report. Yet within the White House and back in Moscow, hardly any sleep was to be had. Back and forth messages were sent, translated, then pondered. Two leaders were fully aware that the fate of the entire world rested upon their heads.
Eric and Lynne spent Saturday as they did most days; they cared for their daughter and each other, then Eric finished the painting he had begun the day before. It was another abstract piece, which he shared with Sam, who stopped by that afternoon, just as Lynne was putting Jane down for a nap. The men spoke about world affairs, which was actually easier than talking about the main issues on their hearts, but Eric didn’t wish to enlighten Sam about all Marek Jagucki had endured as a teenager, nor did Sam want to tell Eric that adoption was off the table. Instead they wondered what tomorrow might bring, then Sam left, noting that he had dinner to cook. Renee was working that day, the first regular shift she’d had all week.
Pastor Jagucki finished his sermon, then spent the afternoon arguing with Mrs. Harmon about the pitiful state of the chrysanthemums, but his banter was light, for no headache accompanied. Then he accepted a late invitation from the Snyders for dessert, in that half a pie remained from yesterday, and Lynne wanted to make another on Sunday. Marek spent an enjoyable evening with Eric, Lynne, and Jane, but was surprised that the Aherns didn’t join them.
Laurie and Stanford ate dinner with Stanford’s father, then went to see The Manchurian Candidate, which had just been released in theaters. Both men found the film riveting, especially against the current political backdrop. They discussed that fact on the way home, then once inside their apartment they made love, which put both right to sleep.
On Sunday morning, Renee woke before her husband. She didn’t have to work that day, or the next few. She wished that wasn’t the case; since Friday all she had wanted was a distraction, which the hospital provided. She didn’t want to spend the day cooped inside with Sam; perhaps later that morning she might call the Snyders, after both families were home from church.
When Sam stirred, he found he was alone, which didn’t surprise him. Renee had taken his news as well as he could have expected, but a frost had been felt during dinner last night and they had gone to bed with few words shared. He put on his robe for the house felt chilly, but that was probably due to the cooler weather which had arrived over the last few days. It was nearly November, winter wasn’t far away. Then he grimaced; perhaps assuming such things was hasty. Maybe nothing would be the same ever again.
Sam used the toilet, then found his wife in the kitchen. Renee also wore her robe and she looked to have been crying. Sam’s guts twisted; he hated seeing her so upset, but his mind was made up. Yes, he had just told her that starting a family was what both needed, but the last week had proved that idea as tenuous as considering that the next season was around the corner. But her sorrow seeped into him, or maybe it was the cold. “Did you turn on the heater?” he asked. Then he realized he hadn’t even said good morning. Sam sighed, then sat beside her, grasping her hand. Her fingers were like ice and Sam trembled. “Renee?”
But what more could he say? He knew she was hurting and that it was his fault. Asking if she was all right would be like rubbing salt in the wound. But how could he explain all that ran through him, that bringing a child into this house would be…. What would it be, Sam wondered.
It would be fraught with difficulty, complications, with…. He swallowed hard, then squeezed his wife’s cold hand. “Renee, I love you. I really do honey. I know it might seem like…”
She gazed right at him, her eyes red blobs in her face. Sam’s heart raced; would she leave him again? If she did, this time he wasn’t sure she’d come back. He had given her his assurance, then he had snatched that dream from her hands, ripping it apart right in front of her face. Her face was streaked with tears, each of those like spilled blood. Sam wanted to be sick, for never in his life had he ever wanted to harm this woman. He’d killed men, and if need be, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so again. But his wife, his beautiful precious wife…. “Oh Renee, my God, please don’t cry, I’m sorry, I’m….”
She nodded, then stroked his face, but her fingers were so frigid that Sam flinched. Then she pulled away her hand, standing from the table. “I forgot about the heater,” she croaked, heading to the thermostat. Sam felt an icy blast in her wake, but instead of going to her, begging for forgiveness, he was frozen in his chair.
She didn’t return, then Sam heard the shower start. He wondered if this was how their life would be, few words and little tenderness between them. Was that how he wanted to live, for however many days remained? Which would be worse,
he pondered, as the phone rang.
Sam almost didn’t answer it, but finally he stood, then grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Sam, it’s Eric. Turn on the television.”
“What?”
“Just turn it on Sam. We’ll talk about it later.”
The line went dead and Sam stared at the receiver in his hand. Then he wondered the time; why was Eric calling so early? Sam glanced at the clock, it was seven, maybe Jane had roused her parents at the crack of dawn. Sam walked into the living room, turned on the set, then plopped onto the sofa. At this time, he had no idea what was on, and Eric hadn’t mentioned a particular channel. But it was the news, the blasted news, all Sam had watched since Monday. He didn’t want to hear any more hog wash and he nearly stood to turn it off, but the newscaster’s voice caught Sam’s attention. He listened, then stared, then got up to increase the volume. Sam continued gazing at the newscaster, wondering if the man’s words could actually be correct.
When Renee got out of the shower, she toweled off thoroughly in the bathroom. She hadn’t bothered to bring in any clothes, just needing to step under hot water to relieve that brutal chill. She hoped that the rest of the house would be warm, although wherever Sam was, Renee expected a frost to linger. Maybe this was it for them, perhaps the last few weeks were some odd calm before the lasting storm. Maybe she would get a divorce, even if it meant plunging her mother into the hospital or their family on the receiving end of utter scorn from their neighbors and priests. But as the water warmed Renee’s fingers and toes, she finally realized that no longer could she stay married to her husband. She loved Sam, she even comprehended why he now felt as he did. But denying what she wanted hurt too much and she knew deep down he wanted it too. Yet for some reason accepting that was simply too painful for Sam to face. She ached for that lost part of his soul, but could no longer permit it to stain her own.
Just as she wrapped the damp towel around her torso, Sam knocked on the door. “Renee, can I come in?”
She sighed, adjusting the towel. She didn’t want him to see her this way, for no longer did she wish to share herself. They had grown apart and while much of it was her doing, some of it was his. That was what she would tell people; irreconcilable differences were no different for Catholics than for Protestants. They had given it one hell of a go, no one could say they hadn’t. And when asked why, Renee could blame the war, the Korean War, she would note. It was the Korean War’s fault, the Russians’ fault, and….
“Renee, please?”
His voice was plaintive, which further shattered into fragments what remained of her heart. “I’ll be out in a minute.” If he needed to pee, he could certainly wait another few seconds while she….
Instead the door burst open and her husband stepped inside. “Renee, it’s all over, it’s all….”
“Yeah Sam, it is. I can’t live this way, not anymore.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t look at him, keeping her gaze on the foggy medicine cabinet mirror. “I’m gonna go home Sam, today in fact. I love you, but I just can’t….”
Her husband gently grasped her face, then kissed her lips. Renee fought that kiss for seconds, then acquiesced, trying to not feel anything, but of course, that was impossible. She pulled away, starting to cry. “Damnit Sam, stop this. I can’t, I won’t, I cannot….”
“The Soviets are gonna take the missiles out of Cuba Renee. Khrushchev announced it this morning on Radio Moscow, well, a few hours ago. They’re not gonna keep the missiles there honey.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Renee shouted, removing Sam’s hands from her face. “I can’t do this Sam. Either we’re gonna….” She cleared her throat, for never had she issued an ultimatum to this man, or not a verbal challenge. Slapping him in the hospital was one thing, but this was…. This was it, she decided. “We’re gonna….”
“Today after church I’m gonna talk to Father Riley. He’ll be able to put us in touch with whoever runs the nearest orphanage. Renee, I wanna make you a mother and while there’s lots of red tape, if Kennedy and Khrushchev can solve that crisis, well then….”
“You wanna what?” Renee stared at her husband, was he still her husband? “You’re gonna do what after mass?”
Sam grasped her hand in his, but his touch wasn’t cold or painful. “Eric called me, told me to turn on the television. It’s over Renee, that crisis. And it’s a new beginning for us.”
Then Sam coughed, but Renee wasn’t surprised, for rarely did he speak so thoughtfully. He gripped her hand, then the other, clasping his around hers. “I’d let this come between us.” Then he sighed, kissing her knuckles right afterwards. “Actually, that’s not the truth. Yes, I told you we could adopt, but then I put up a caveat, saying next year. Then the Russians went nuts and I told you no, but that was wrong. Life doesn’t stop no matter what leader thinks they know better or if I, if I….”
Renee nodded, she didn’t need to hear his apology. But to her surprise, Sam continued speaking. “I don’t know what kind of father I’ll make, but I’m tired of being too scared to find out. You’ll be the best mother, my God, and I’ll just try to keep pace.”
Now tears streamed down Sam’s face and Renee had to blink to see through her own. “Are, are you sure?” she mumbled.
“Absolutely. There’s no time to waste. We just don’t know what might happen tomorrow.”
“Oh Sam, oh my goodness, oh honey….” Renee embraced him, but as she did so, the towel loosened around her bust. When it fell to the floor, Renee didn’t try to retrieve it, and neither did Sam. He did loosen his robe, then wiggled out of it. All that impeded them was his briefs and within a minute Renee had tugged them past his knees. The couple had never made love in the bathroom, well, once in the shower, years before. But that morning, October twenty-eighth, required a celebration for many things. To Renee, all that had occurred in the past week was completely forgotten as her husband sealed this pact. They couldn’t make their own child, but in that loving action, parenthood was claimed. Now all they needed was to find the right children, their children, Renee considered, as Sam cried out her name.
Chapter 79