A Cry in the Night

Dinner had a festive air. She prepared carbonara and an endive salad. Erich brought a bottle of Chablis from the wine rack. “It gets harder and harder to work in the cabin, Jen,” he said. “Especially when I know I’m missing dinners like this.” He tickled Tina. “And it’s no fun being away from my family.”

  “And your home,” she said. It seemed a good moment to bring up the changes she’d made. “You haven’t mentioned how you like the way I’ve moved things around.”

  “I’m slow to react,” he said lightly. “Let me think about it.”

  It was better than she’d hoped for. She got up, walked around the table and put her arms around his neck. “I was so afraid you might be upset.”

  He reached up and smoothed her hair. As always the feel of his nearness thrilled her, pushed away the doubts and uncertainties.

  Beth had just left the table. Now she came running back. “Mommy, do you love Daddy better than our other daddy?”

  Why in the name of God had she thought to ask that question now? Jenny wondered despairingly. Desperately she tried to frame an answer. She could only find the truth. “I loved your first daddy mostly because of you and Tina. Why do you want to know that?” To Erich she said, “They haven’t mentioned Kevin for weeks.”

  Beth pointed at Erich. “Because this daddy asked me if I love him better than our first daddy.”

  “Erich, I wouldn’t discuss that with the girls.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he said contritely. “I guess I was just anxious to see if their memory of him was beginning to fade.” He put his arms around her. “How about your memory, darling?”

  She took a long time with the children’s baths. Somehow it was calming to watch their uncomplicated pleasure splashing in the tub. She wrapped them in thick towels, rejoicing in the sturdy little bodies and brushing back the freshly shampooed ringlets. Her hands trembled as she buttoned their pajamas. I’m getting so nervous, she fumed at herself. It’s just I feel so dishonest that the smallest thing Erich says I take the wrong way. Damn Kevin.

  She heard the girls’ prayers. “God bless Mommy and Daddy,” Tina intoned. She paused then looked up. “Should we say God bless both daddies?”

  Jenny bit her lip. Erich had started this. She wasn’t going to tell the children not to pray for Kevin. Still . . . “Why not tonight say God bless everyone?” she suggested.

  “And Fire Maid and Mouse and Tinker Bell and Joe . . .” Beth added.

  “And Randy,” Tina reminded her. “Can we have a puppy too?”

  Jenny tucked them into bed, realizing how every night she was becoming more and more reluctant to go downstairs again. When she was alone, the house seemed too big, too silent. On windy nights there was a mournful wail from the trees that penetrated the quiet.

  And now when Erich was here she didn’t know what to expect. Would he stay overnight or go back to the cabin?

  She went downstairs. He had made the coffee. “They must have been pretty dirty for you to be so long with them, sweetheart.”

  She had planned to ask him for the keys to the car but he didn’t give her the chance. He picked up the tray with the coffee service. “Let’s sit in the front parlor and let me absorb your changes.”

  As she followed him she realized how well the white cableknit sweater he was wearing set off his dark, gold hair. My handsome, successful, talented husband, she thought, and with a tinge of irony remembered Fran saying, “He’s too perfect.”

  In the parlor she pointed out to him how moving some furniture and putting away the excessive bric-a-brac made it possible to appreciate the lovely pieces in the room.

  “Where did you put everything?”

  “The curtains are in the attic. The small pieces are in the cupboard in the pantry. Don’t you think having the trestle table under Memory of Caroline is better? I always felt the pattern in the couch was distracting so near the painting.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She couldn’t be sure of his reaction. Nervously she tried to fill the silence with conversation. “And don’t you think with the light that way, we see more of the little boy—of you? Before this your face was rather shadowed.”

  “That’s a bit fanciful. The child’s face was never meant to be defined. As a fine arts major who worked in a prominent gallery, you should realize that, Jenny.”

  He laughed.

  Was he intending to joke? Was it just that no matter what he said tonight, there seemed to be a sting in it? Jenny picked up her coffee cup and realized her hand was shaking. The cup slipped from her hand and the coffee splattered on the couch and Oriental rug.

  “Jenny, darling. Why are you so nervous?” Erich’s face creased into worried lines. With his napkin he began to swab the stain.

  “Don’t rub it in,” Jenny cautioned. Rushing into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of club soda from the refrigerator.

  With a sponge she dabbed furiously at the spots. “Thank God I hadn’t put cream in yet,” she murmured.

  Erich said nothing. Would he consider the couch and carpet destroyed as he had the dining-room wallpaper?

  But the club soda did the trick. “I think I’ve got it all.” She got up slowly. “I’m sorry, Erich.”

  “Sweetheart, don’t worry about it. But can’t you tell me why you’re so upset? You are upset, Jen. That note for example. A few weeks ago you would have known I was teasing you. Darling, your sense of humor is one of the most delightful parts of your personality. Please don’t lose it.”

  She knew he was right. “I’m sorry,” she said miserably. She was going to tell Erich about meeting Kevin. No matter what, she had to clear the air. “The reason I’m so . . .”

  The phone rang.

  “Answer it, please, Jenny.”

  “It won’t be for me.”

  It rang again.

  “Don’t be so sure. Clyde tells me in the last week there have been a dozen disconnects where someone didn’t want to leave a taped message. That’s why I told him to let it ring through tonight.”

  With a sense of fatality she preceded him into the kitchen. The phone rang a third time. She knew even before she picked it up that it was Kevin.

  “Jenny, I can’t believe I finally got through to you. That damn answering machine! How are you?” Kevin’s voice was buoyant.

  “I’m all right, Kev.” She felt Erich’s eyes on her face; he bent over the phone so he could hear the conversation. “What do you want?” Would Kevin talk about their meeting? If only she’d told Erich first.

  “To share the good news. I’m officially in the repertory company at the Guthrie, Jen.”

  “I’m glad for you,” she said stiffly. “But, Kevin, I don’t want you calling me. I forbid you to call me. Erich is right here and he’s very upset that you’re contacting me.”

  “Listen, Jen, I’ll call all I want. You tell Krueger for me that he can tear up those adoption papers. I’m going to court to stop the adoption. You can have custody, Jen, and I’ll pay support, but those kids are MacPartlands and that’s the way it’s going to be. Who knows? Someday Tina and I might be doing a Tatum and Ryan O’Neal number. She’s a real little actress. Oh, Jen. Gotta run. They’re calling for me. I’ll get back to you. Bye.”

  Slowly Jenny hung up the phone. “Can he stop the adoption?” she asked.

  “He can try. He won’t succeed.” Erich’s eyes were cold, his tone icy.

  “A Tatum and Ryan O’Neal number, my God,” Jenny said disbelievingly. “I’d almost admire him if I thought he wanted the children, really wanted them. But this!”

  “Jenny, I predicted you were making a mistake letting him sponge off you,” Erich said. “If you’d been yanking him into court for support payments, you’d have been finished with him two years ago.”

  As usual, Erich was right. Suddenly she felt infinitely weary and the faint nausea she’d experienced earlier was coming back. “I’m going to bed,” she said abruptly. “Are you staying here tonight, Erich?”

  “I’m not sure.”
>
  “I see.” She started down the foyer from the kitchen to the staircase. She had gone only a few feet when he caught up with her.

  “Jenny.”

  She turned. “What is it, Erich?”

  His eyes were warm now, his face concerned and gentle. “I know it isn’t your fault that MacPartland is bothering you. I promise I know that. I shouldn’t get upset with you.”

  “It makes it so much harder for me when you do.”

  “We’ll work this out. Let me get through these next few days. I’ll feel better then. Try to understand. Maybe it’s because Mother promised me just before she died that she’d always be here on my birthday. Maybe that’s why I’m so depressed around this time. I feel her presence—and her loss—so much. Try to understand me; try to forgive me when I hurt you. I don’t mean it, Jenny. I love you.”

  They were wrapped in each other’s arms. “Erich, please,” Jenny begged, “let this be the last year you react like this. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years. Caroline would be fifty-seven years old. You still see her as a young woman whose death was a tragedy. It was, but it’s over. Let’s get on with life. It could be good for us. Let me share your life, really share it. Bring your friends in. Take me to see your studio. Get me a small car so I can go shopping or to an art gallery or take the kids to a movie when you’re painting.”

  “You want to be able to meet Kevin, don’t you?”

  “Oh, my God.” Jenny pulled away. “Let me go to bed, Erich. I really don’t feel well.”

  He did not follow her up the stairs. She looked in on the girls. They were fast asleep. Tina stirred when she kissed her.

  She went into the master bedroom. The faint scent of pine that always lingered in the room seemed heavier tonight. Was it because she felt queasy? Her eyes fell on the crystal bowl. Tomorrow she’d move that bowl to a guest bedroom. Oh, Erich, stay tonight, she pleaded silently. Don’t go away feeling like this. Suppose Kevin started pestering them with calls? Suppose he stopped the adoption? Suppose he had regular visitation rights? It would be unbearable for Erich. It would destroy their marriage.

  She got into bed and determinedly opened her book. But it was impossible to concentrate. Her eyes were heavy and her body ached in unaccustomed places. Joe had warned her the riding would cause that. “You’ll hear from muscles you didn’t know you had,” he’d grinned.

  Finally she turned off the light. A little later she heard footsteps in the hall. Erich? She pulled herself up on one elbow but the footsteps continued up the stairs to the attic. What was he doing there? A few minutes later she heard him coming down. He must be dragging something. There was a thudding sound every few steps. What was he doing?

  She was about to get up and investigate when she heard sounds from downstairs, the sounds of furniture being moved.

  Of course, she thought.

  Erich had gone upstairs for the carton of curtains. Now he was rearranging the furniture, putting it back in its original places.

  In the morning when Jenny went downstairs, the curtains were rehung; every table and chair and piece of bric-a-brac was in place and her plants were missing. Later she found them in the trash container behind the barn.

  17

  Slowly Jenny walked through the downstairs rooms a second time. Erich had not failed to return a single vase or lamp or footstool to its original exact spot. He’d even found the ornately ugly owl sculpture that she’d poked away in an unused cabinet over the stove.

  She had known what to expect but even so the absolute rejection of her wishes and taste shocked her. Finally she made coffee and went back to bed. Shivering, she pulled the covers around her and leaned back on the pillows propped against the massive headboard. It would be another cold and gloomy day. The sky was gray and misty; a sharp wind rattled the windowpanes.

  The eighth of March, Erich’s thirty-fifth birthday, Caroline’s twenty-fifth anniversary. That last morning of her life had Caroline awakened in this bed, heart-sick that she was leaving her only child? Or had she awakened counting the hours until she could leave this house?

  Jenny rubbed her forehead. It ached dully. Once again her sleep had been restless. She’d been dreaming of Erich. Always he had that same expression on his face, an expression she could never quite understand. Once this anniversary was over and he came back to the house she’d talk to him quietly. She would ask him to go with her for counseling. If he refused she’d have to consider taking the children to New York.

  Where?

  Maybe her job would be available again. Maybe Kevin would lend her a few hundred dollars for airfare. Lend. He owed her hundreds. Fran would let her and the girls bunk in her place for a short time. It was a terrible inconvenience to ask of anyone but Fran was a good scout.

  I don’t have a cent, Jenny thought, but it isn’t that. I don’t want to leave Erich. I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.

  She was still so chilled. A hot shower might help. And she’d wear that warm argyll sweater. It was in the closet.

  Jenny glanced at the closet and understood what had been subconsciously bothering her.

  When she got up she’d taken her robe from the closet. But last night she had left the robe thrown over the vanity bench. The bench had been pulled back from the dressing table. Now it was precision-straight.

  No wonder she dreamed of Erich’s face. She must have subconsciously realized he was in the room. Why hadn’t he stayed? She shivered. Her skin felt prickly. But it wasn’t the cold. She was afraid. Afraid of Erich, of her own husband? Of course not, she told herself. I am afraid of his rejection. He came to me and then left me. Had Erich gone back to the cabin during the night or had he slept in the house?

  Quietly she put on her robe and slippers and went into the hall. The door of Erich’s boyhood room was closed. She listened at the door. There was no sound. Slowly she turned the handle and opened the door.

  Erich was curled up in bed, the gaily patterned patchwork quilt wrapped around him. Only his ear and hairline showed. His face was buried in folds of soft material. Silently Jenny entered the room and became aware of a familiar faint scent. She bent over Erich. In his sleep he was nuzzling the aqua nightgown to his face.

  She and the children had almost finished breakfast when Erich came downstairs. He refused even coffee. He was already wearing one of his heavy parkas and was carrying what was obviously an expensive hunting rifle, even to Jenny’s inexperienced eye. Jenny eyed it nervously.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight,” he told her. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll just be around the farm today.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t go changing any of the furniture again, Jenny. I didn’t like it your way.”

  “I gathered that,” Jenny said evenly.

  “It’s my birthday, Jen.” His tone sounded high-pitched, young, like the voice of a boy. “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”

  “I’d rather wait until Friday night. Mark and Emily are coming to dinner. We’ll celebrate it with them. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

  “Maybe.” He came over to her. The cold steel of the rifle brushed her arm. “Do you love me, Jenny?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll never leave me?”

  “I’d never want to leave you.”

  “That’s what Caroline said, those very words.” His eyes became reflective.

  The children had been silent. “Daddy, can I go with you?” Beth begged.

  “Not now. Tell me your name.”

  “Beth Crew-grr.”

  “Tina, what’s your name?”

  “Tina Crew-grr.”

  “Very good. I’ll get both of you presents.” He kissed them and came back to Jenny. Propping the rifle against the stove, he took her hands and ran them through his hair. “Do it like that,” he whispered. “Please, Jen.”

  His eyes were on her intently now. They looked as they had in her dream. With a wrench of tenderness she obeyed. H
e looked so vulnerable, and last night he had not been able to come to her for comfort.

  “That’s good,” he smiled. “That feels so good.

  Thank you.”

  He picked up the rifle and walked to the door. “Good-bye, girls.”

  He smiled at Jenny, then hesitated. “Sweetheart, I have an idea. Let’s go out together for dinner tonight, just the two of us. I’ll ask Rooney and Clyde to stay with the children for a few hours.”

  “Oh, Erich, I’d love that!” If he began to share this date with her . . . it’s a breakthrough, she thought, a good omen.

  “I’ll phone and make reservations for eight o’clock at the Groveland Inn. I’ve been promising to take you there, darling. It’s the best food around.”

  The Groveland Inn where she had met Kevin. Jenny felt her face pale.

  When she and the girls got to the stable, Joe was waiting for them. His usually sunny smile was missing; his young face was set in unfamiliar lines of worry.

  “Uncle Josh came over this morning. He was pretty drunk and Maw told him to get lost. He left the door open and Randy got out. I just hope nothing happens to him. He’s not used to cars.”

  “Go look for him,” Jenny said.

  “Mr. Krueger won’t like . . .”

  “It will be all right, Joe. I’ll see it is. The girls would be heartsick if anything happened to Randy.”

  She watched him hurry down the dirt road, then said, “Come on, girls. Let’s take our walk now. You can visit the ponies later.”

  They ran ahead of her across the fields. Their rubber boots made soft squishing sounds. The ground was thawing. Maybe it would be an early spring after all. She tried to imagine these fields fleshed out with alfalfa and grass, those sparse empty trees weighted with leaves.

  Even the wind had lost something of its biting edge. In the south pastures she could see that the cattle had their heads down and were sniffing at the ground as though anticipating the shoots of grass that would soon be coming.