Eden in Winter (38 page)

Across the table, Rachel seemed to steel herself, her striking features assuming a determined cast. ‘A reasonable person wouldn’t. A
truly
reasonable person might even call this a Freudian nightmare.’

Adam chose not to defend himself. ‘Only if it feels that way.’

‘How can it not?’ Rachel persisted. ‘Your father’s girlfriend? Your father’s son? Why not start wearing his old jackets, and writing sequels to his books?’

This struck close enough to home that her words stung him. With an edge in his voice, he said, ‘I’m sorry that I hurt you, Rachel. And so quickly at that.’

At once, her gaze broke. ‘I guess it’s my turn to apologize. Maybe I imagined something that wasn’t there. I make things up for a living, after all.’

‘You’ve got too much going to believe that. In bed or out, I wasn’t just killing time.’

Rachel looked up at him. ‘I hope so,’ she said in a firmer tone. ‘I do care about you, Adam. But you actually seem to be contemplating a future with your father’s mistress and your infant half-brother, rubbing salt in your mother’s gaping wounds – not to mention your own. Are you still so tied to Benjamin Blaine that his leftovers are sacred relics?’

The question both angered and unsettled him. Quietly, he answered, ‘Whatever else, I don’t see Carla and Liam as leftovers. Another sign of my deep emotional problems.’

Rachel bit her lip in obvious dismay. ‘I really have lost my gift for words, haven’t I? No doubt tact is not my greatest strength. But do you honestly think you can untangle all this?’

It was a good question, Adam thought, even from a woman who knew only what was apparent on the surface. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Even if I can “untangle all this,” what happens isn’t just about me.’

‘Oh, she’ll want you, Adam. Why wouldn’t she?’ Rachel touched his arm, speaking in a lower voice. ‘Please don’t hold what I’ve said against me, all right? No matter what, I’ll want to know what happens to you.’

‘And to you, Rachel.’

She stood at once. Walking her to the door, Adam ventured, ‘Are you still working on the novel?’

She smiled for a moment. ‘Religiously. I’ve discovered that mixing self-doubt with unhappiness is the writer’s friend. Anyhow, thanks for asking.’

She turned in the doorway, and kissed him, long enough for Adam to wish he could respond. Then she pulled back, looking into his face. ‘Damn you, Adam Blaine,’ she said, and walked swiftly to her car.

Driving to the doctor’s office from an A.A. meeting in Vineyard Haven, Carla hoped that Liam was not scarred for life by having such an anxious mother.

It was her first time away from him in his six weeks on the planet, and Carla had to restrain herself from taking out her cell phone to call the babysitter. It was time to let go a little, she told herself. Her son had been the focus of her hopes and fears for so many months that she had not allowed either of them to breathe – not to mention that it might be a mercy to everyone if he settled for a bottle now and then. So she tried to reflect on the renewal she had felt at the meeting, the man she had never seen before – his face ravaged, but his blue eyes clear and gentle, as though he had come back wiser from some terrible place. She, too, felt stronger now; she had a life to live, and was determined to live it fully.

Waiting for the doctor, she thought about Adam Blaine. He no longer had nightmares; surviving Afghanistan seemed
to have freed him from the sense that his own life was fore-shortened. They saw each other frequently now; more often than not, he was smart and wry and perceptive and curious about her and Liam’s progress and her applications to graduate school. For all the good it did them, every day she found him more attractive. But Adam never spoke of the inquest or Amanda Ferris, and he still retained an elusive quality, creating the sense that something still pursued him, that part of him could never quite be with her. The dark and light of the Irish, she remembered from her own youth, but his moments of opacity felt like much more than that. Yet there were times when Carla felt she could almost reach inside him, touch what she could not see; perhaps an illusion, however tantalizing, conjured by her own desire.

But when it came to Adam, Mary Margaret Pacelli’s only daughter had many desires, and one of them was very simple.

*

When the examination was over, Dr Stein assured her, ‘Everything looks good. As far as I can tell, young Liam did no further damage to the plant. Seems only fair, with all the trouble you went to for him.’ He sat down in his chair. ‘No guarantees, Carla – even if you wanted to, it will never be easy for you to get pregnant and take the kid to term. But it happened once, when you least expected it. So you need to start thinking about birth control.’

Carla felt a rush of gratitude – irrational, perhaps. But it felt oddly hopeful to think she might be able to have another child. ‘Does that mean I’m no longer off-limits?’

Stein smiled. ‘If the mood strikes, you can have sex in the parking lot. But the pill and I.U.D. have already caused you
problems. So I suggest we fix you up with a diaphragm before you face the outside world.’

Carla felt herself flush – there were far more immediate possibilities than childbirth, and the thought of her dinner date set off a wave of nervousness and anticipation. After a moment, she said, ‘I don’t know about the parking lot. But I probably shouldn’t leave here without something. I’d just hate calling 911 in the middle of the night.’

*

That night, having placated Liam for at least an hour or two, Carla went with Adam for dinner at State Road.

It was February, and bitter outside. The other diners, year-rounders all, showed less interest in the two of them than would the summer crowd, avid for gossip. In the candlelit seclusion of a quiet corner, Carla felt as much at ease as her new circumstances permitted. ‘When I got home today,’ she informed Adam, ‘Liam actually smiled at me. I was so pathetically grateful I nearly wept.’

‘Sure it wasn’t gas?’

‘It was rapture,’ she insisted. ‘He was simply ecstatic to see me.’

Adam gave her breasts an exaggerated glance. ‘That much I believe. But the boy needs to broaden his interests a little.’ He thought a moment. ‘The next good day, why don’t we stuff Liam in a snuggly and take a walk in Menemsha Hills? You’ve been housebound too long, and it’s time he started appreciating the natural environment.’

‘Our world
has
been a little small,’ Carla allowed wryly. ‘Even going to an A.A. meeting felt like a jailbreak.’ She paused, wary of prodding him, then let curiosity overcome her. ‘Did you send off that article, by the way?’

Adam nodded. ‘To
Vanity Fai
r, which used to publish Ben’s travel pieces. Maybe it was the connection, but I heard from them today. They say their readers will be interested in what I saw of Afghan women, and so they’re publishing it. Not that anything will change.’

Carla was surprised, then deeply pleased. ‘It’s already changed for you – you’ve become a published author in record time. How does it feel?’

Adam frowned in thought. ‘Pretty good, I guess. Though I can’t help but wonder where he leaves off and I begin.’

Nettled, Carla replied, ‘So why don’t you just become an astronaut? Or did Ben orbit the earth when I wasn’t looking?’

To Carla’s surprise, her tartness induced a short laugh. ‘Spit it out, Carla. When you’re obscure like that, I can’t tell what you’re driving at.’

Carla could no longer stifle her impatience. ‘All right. If you want to make everything you do about him, you can – including this success. For that matter, you can simply run away from it. Whatever you choose, please don’t let me interfere.’

From Adam’s expression, he understood too well that her change of mood was not only about his article. ‘Point taken,’ he responded. ‘All the way around.’

Now it was Carla’s turn to feel rueful. ‘In my experience,’ she said more gently, ‘there are too few nice surprises in the world. I’m just happy for this one.’

Raising her iced tea, she toasted his first publication, and their conversation elided easily into dinner, covering a novel of Vietnam they had both read and admired,
Matterhorn
; whether Robert Mitchum was, as she insisted, a great American
film actor; and Adam’s seriocomic assertion that the latest Republican presidential debate had rendered
Saturday Night Live
redundant. Over dessert, he proposed, ‘I rented a movie we could watch. Interested?’

‘What is it?’

‘A classic screwball comedy –
Bringing Up Baby
, with Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. I thought about
Hamlet
,’ he added dryly, ‘but it feels like we’ve lived that one already. I figured we could use some lighter entertainment.’

Carla felt a moment’s reticence. ‘On that general subject,’ she said, ‘there’s something else I ought to mention. I went in for my check-up this morning.’

‘And?’

‘I passed. No damage done except to my sleep cycle.’ She hesitated, glancing at him with a barely perceptible smile. ‘Dan Stein was so excited that he recommended birth control.’

Adam gave her a sideways look. ‘A good man, Dr Stein.’

Their eyes met for a longer time. ‘I’m glad you think so,’ Carla told him.

*

Together, they gazed fondly at Liam in his bassinet.

He had accepted his bottle readily, the babysitter had reported, drifting into somnolence after a sequence of deep burps. ‘How like a male,’ Carla remarked to Adam. ‘Take without discrimination, then nod off. But I suppose we should be grateful.’

‘As should he. It’s so easy to love them when they’re sleeping.’

Still they lingered there, fingers touching, watching Liam’s chest rise up and down beneath his absurdly small pyjamas,
enjoying the profound sleep nature bestows on infants. Save when he was hungry, Adam thought, Liam seemed to have a peaceful and contented nature – as was true of Adam himself as a child, his mother had told him long ago. It was a sobering thing to be charged with a life so unmarked.

After a time, Carla turned to him. ‘Why don’t we let him rest,’ she proposed. ‘He was doing so well without us.’

He gave her a querying look. In answer, she touched his face, looking into his eyes, and then kissed him. The kiss deepened, the desire for her overcoming Adam so swiftly that he could no longer escape how long, and how much, he had wanted her. When his lips brushed her neck, Carla shivered, and he heard her whisper, ‘Yes.’

Breaking away, she took his hand, drawing him into the darkened bedroom. She left the door ajar, thin light coming from the living room, enough for them.

She stood apart, moving to the foot of the bed. Without speaking, she reached behind her to unzip her dress, letting it fall to the floor. As she did the rest, Adam felt a kind of awe.

She was stunningly beautiful: full breasts, slender hips, her stomach flat again, her body lithe and sculpted. Adam could scarcely believe that she was real, or that this moment was theirs. At first he could not read the question in her gaze.

Quietly, he said, ‘Sorry. But I can’t take my eyes off you.’

The slightest of smiles. ‘That’s good, then. But, in itself, your admiration isn’t helping me.’

As quickly as he could, Adam undressed. She came to him then; the first touch of her breasts against his chest sent a current through him, and he began kissing her mouth, her
throat, her neck, trying not to hurry, feeling a sense of consequence which was new to him. Their bodies pressed together as if this alone could save them.

‘I’ve been waiting for so long now,’ she murmured.

He wanted to answer this. But she was leading him to the bed, barring his need, or his ability, to speak. They found the covers together, his lips grazing her nipples, her stomach, her thighs, his tongue probing between them.

‘I want
you
,’ she insisted.

But he kept moving his tongue, until she cried out softly, shuddering, a plea for what she needed from him. Then he slid on top of her, feeling the warmth of her body, the desire to look into her face, whatever followed. ‘
Now
,’ she urged.

As he slipped inside her, Adam felt her moistness, her strong thighs drawing him deeper, saw a question appearing in her eyes, the intensity of her need to see inside him. His torso began moving without conscious thought, as though their skin could not touch enough, that he could never reach the deepest part of her. She grasped his hips to pull him further inside, eyes still meeting his. He thrust harder now, reason gone, thought vanishing, overcome by desire for this woman – Carla Pacelli. Desperate, he felt the blood rushing to his hardness, the pressure of their bodies seeking release, her fingernails digging into his back. She pressed against him fiercely, craving more, the inside of her tightening as he fought to resist the tide of her for one last, transcendent moment.

Suddenly she cried out, his name on her lips, and he lost himself entirely and they were shuddering together, warmth coursing through his limbs, their eyes still locked, Adam needing to confirm for Carla her uniqueness, to have her see
him, no one else. At last the rhythm of their bodies ceased, their stare so intense that neither one could break it. He could feel their heat and moisture, the beating of his heart. He was lost to himself, yet home.

‘My God …’ he murmured, an offering.

Her eyes remained searching, though she at last smiled a little. ‘So you think we achieved adequacy?’

Adam shook his head, so astonished that he came close to tears. ‘You don’t understand, Carla. It’s like you’ve taken a piece of me.’ He hesitated, speech failing him. ‘It’s too hard to explain …’

‘You don’t have to.’

Touching her face, he replayed the ambiguity of the words. ‘Tell me how you feel.’

Her gaze became more serious yet. ‘I’d like to,’ she answered softly. ‘More than you know. But I just want us to be as we are, right now. At least for a while.’

Perhaps she knew what he must wonder, and wanted to avoid it. ‘I understand,’ he told her. ‘But for me, being with you was about so much more.’

Softly, Carla kissed him. ‘For me, too. If that’s what you wanted to know.’