Man, Woman and Child (18 page)

"Can I see him?"

"I'm not sure if he's awake."

"I don't care. I just want to see him breathing."

"Go ahead then. But don't be upset. He looks a lot worse than he feels. He's in room 400."

Bob started to run.

He was out of breath when he reached the room. He opened the door as quietly as possible. Tlie little boy was propped up in bed, one tube in his nostril, another in his arm. His eyes were half closed.

"Jean-Claude?" he whispered. The boy turned his head.

"Bob," he said hoarsely, "it hurts when I speak."

"Tlien I'll talk and you just nod your head."

He walked slowly toward him.

192

'*You're gonna be okay," he said. ''You had a burst appendix. They had to operate, but it'll be okay. The doctor told me."

For a minute the boy just looked at him. Then, despite the discomfort, he spoke.

'Tm sorry. Bob, I cause you so much trouble."

"Shh. Don't be silly." He stroked his hair to reassure him. "And stop talking. Just nod your head."

He nodded his head.

''Good. Now go to sleep and Til see you in a few hours." He squeezed the boy's hand.

Jean-Claude looked at him and tried to smile.

*'Don't worry. I am not afraid of hospitals."

He drove back slowly, turning the air conditioner full blast on his face to keep him awake. The storm had ended, but there were puddles everywhere. By the time he reached the house, he could feel a hot humid day beginning.

Sheila came onto the porch when she heard the car. They spoke almost simultaneously.

"How is he?" she asked.

"How're the girls?" he asked.

"You talk first," she said.

"It looks pretty good."

"Thank God. We were all so worried."

He looked at his wife. There were a million things he longed to tell her.

"I love you, Sheila," he said. "Do you still believe that?"

"Yes," she answered, almost shyly. And put her arm around him as they walked into the house.

The girls were sitting on the steps in their pajamas.

"How is he?" Paula burst out.

"He'll be okay," said Bob. He sat down wearily.

"This is all my fault/' said Jessica. "When you were gone, I was the scaredest Fve ever been in my life."

"Me too/' said Paula.

"No, girls. It's nobody's fault but mine," said Bob. He wrapped his daughters in his arms and held them tight. He could feel their fright and confusion. "We're gonna be together," he said. "Always. Nothing will ever change that."

He felt a tender touch on the back of his neck.

"You're really exhausted, honey," Sheila said. *Tou ought to get some sleep."

Yes. He was almost numb. All he could feel was the emanations of their love.

"Go on, Daddy," said Jessica. "Mom's right." He nodded, kissed them both and started up the stairs, with Sheila just behind him.

She helped him off with his clothes and into warm pajamas. He could barely manage a thank you as he crawled under the covers and closed his eyes.

Sheila bent over and kissed his cheek.

"I missed you," she whispered, thinking he was already asleep. But he had heard, and, eyes still shut, reached up his hand, fishing for hers. She grasped it. He brought their enlaced fingers to his lips, hugging them, thinking, Please don't let go, Sheila. Never, never, never.

When he woke some six hours later, she was sitting on the edge of the bed with a cup of hot coffee.

"I've got to call the hospital," he said.

"It's all right," Sheila answered softly. "Dr. Shel-ton phoned while you were sleeping. He says the signs are good. His pulse is down and his fever is much lower." And then she added, "He's asking for you."

"Oh." And then he said, "Will you come too?" She thought a moment and then answered, "Yes.

In the next two weeks, while Jean-Claude was gradually regaining strength, Bob and Sheila came to visit every day.

One morning when Bob had business to attend to, Sheila drove to see Jean-Claude on her own. He looked uneasy when he noticed she was by herself.

"Fve brought the books you asked for," she smiled, sitting near his bed. *'Histoire Generate, Spider-Man and The Incredible HulkJ*

"You are very kind," he said.

She sensed that he was trying to convey something more.

"I'm very fond of you," she said, to show she understood.

He looked away.

"As soon as I am well I will go back to France," he said, still facing away.

"Of course not. You'll come and stay with us."

He turned and looked at her. His eyes were sad.

"\Vhen I came here, I did not know . . . who Bob was."

"Yes, I know."

"But you did?"

Sheila hesitated for a moment, then decided honesty was better than awkward diplomacy. "Yes," she said. "He told me."

"Were you angry with him?"

"Yes."

"Then you must also have been angry with me."

How could she respond to this? She took his hand.

"I suppose I was, at first," she said gently. "But now we laiow each other. Now we're friends."

He had listened very carefully. She could not tell if he believed her. At last he said: "You are very kind, Sheila."

Jessica no longer fought with Bob. She who had once been voluble and eloquent was now quiet and withdrawn. She spent a lot of time out of the house. Bob preferred to think it was a stage of adolescence and assumed—at least he hoped—she would get over jt. And he made frequent efforts at conciliation.

**Say, Jess, why don't we all go to the flicks tonight? I hear Silent Movie is hilarious."

''Sorry, Dad. I've got a previous engagement. A date, actually."

"Oh. Anyone I know?"

"David Ackerman," said Jessie,

"Oh-Ddvey. Oh. Nice boy."

There was only one movie house in the vicinity, a gray bam with ancient wooden seats and walls so thin that you could hear the ocean even during the Westerns. Bob took Paula and Sheila that night, sitting between them, with an arm around each. After the film, as they were buying ice cream cones, he caught sight of Jessica and Davey, walking side by side. Did she notice him? He couldn't tell. Anyway, he thought, I guess I should be pleased she's growing up.

As they were driving home, all three of them squeezed in the front seat of the car, Paula asked, "How much longer will Jean-Claude be in the hospital?"

"Dr. Shelton thinks about another five days," said Sheila.

"What happens then?" she asked uneasily.

"Your mother and I think he should come home and stay with us till he's stronger," Bob said.

"Oh," said Paula. "Have you told Jessie?"

'Tes," said Bob. 'What did she say?" ^'Nothing/' Sheila answered.

Jean-Claude was pale and thin, but othenvise looked healthy. It was difficult to tell how he felt about the prospect of returning to the Beckwith house. For there, two weeks ago, the nightmare had begun for him. Bob wondered as he drove him if the boy was apprehensive about confronting Jessica and Paula.

Sheila met them at the door and kissed Jean-Claude. They went inside. The house seemed oddly empty.

"Where are the girls?'' Bob asked.

''They've been upstairs all morning,'' Sheila answered, glancing at Bob as if to say, I don't know what's going on. She turned to the boy again. He looked a little tired.

"Why don't you take a nap before lunch, Tean-Claude?" ^

"Okay."

He began slowly up the stairs and started to his room. When he opened the door he was stunned. Pele was staring straight at him. That is, a huge life-size poster of the great Brazilian soccer star.

"Do you like it?" asked Paula gaily, jumping, from her hiding place.

Before he could respond, Jessie added, "It's personally autographed to you."

He was incredulous. "To me?" He stepped closer and saw inscribed on the soccer ball Pele was kicking: 'To my pal Jean-Claude, Best Wishes, Pele."

"How did you obtain such a thing?" he asked, his eyes full of wonder.

"My friend's father happens to be his personal lawyer,". Jessie answered.

"It's fantastic," the boy exclaimed. "I can't wait to show it to my friend Maurice/'

The three children stood there for a moment. Then Paula said:

"We—uh—really missed you."

And Jessie added, "Welcome home/'

It was nearly the end of July when Jean-Claude arrived home from the hospital. Sheila was due to return to work on the first Monday in August. And Bob grew increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of having the whole brood on his hands alone. He said nothing to Sheila, but as usual, she did not need words to know what he was thinking.

"Why don't I ask Evelyn for another month's holiday? Even if she says no, she might at least let me drive to Cambridge once or twice a week and bring work back here."

He was touched by her offer. For he knew this might raise hackles at the ofBce.

*'But Evelyn's such a stickler. Do you think she'd put up with that kind of arrangement?"

''She'll just have to, Bob. I'll give her an ultimatum."

''Sheila, you're a tiger."

"No I'm not. I'll be quaking when I actually get in the room."

"Then I'll drive vou up and be your second."

"What about the kids?"

"We can get someone. Susie Ryder maybe. I'll take care of it. What do you say we go tomorrow?"

199

^'So soon?" she asked, affecting panic.

**I don't want you to get cold feet. Anyway, even if you do, ril be there to warm them at the last minute."

She smiled at him. He had been living for that look.

"Well?"

He had stood guard on the stone steps outside the Harvard Press, waiting for'her to emerge. When she did she was beaming.

"Well," he teased, "in what elevated language did she tell you to go to hell?"

"Fm an idiot, do you know that?" she stated cheerfully. "She said I should have asked her years ago.

"Haven't I always told you you were the best editor they had?"

"Yes, but I didn't believe you."

"Well, this ought to teach you to trust my judgment a little more. Now let's celebrate," he said, taking her hand. "What would you say to a candlelight dinner?"

"It's barely lunchtime."

"We can wait. And meanwhile we'll buy sandwiches and picnic with the college kids along the Charles."

"And what about our kids? We've got to get home by a reasonable hour."

"Tomorrow morning's soon enough," he said. "Susie can stay overnight."

She looked at him with a mischievous smile.

"How come you didn't tell me about this arrangement? Are there any other surprises in store?"

"You'll see," he answered. And he felt a surge of joy. Joy born of hope. She hadn't objected to any of his "arrangements." So far anyway.

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Almost by definition, Harvard Summer School consists of people not otherwise associated with Harvard. Hence as they walked along the riverbank, no one in Cambridge recognized them. They were alone in the summer crowd. They sat down on the grass, ate lunch and watched the many pleasure boats go by.

"If I see Noah's ark/' said Bob, "Fll flag it over and we'll volunteer as passengers/'

'1 somehow think they'd want two younger specimens."

''Like hell. We're young. At least you are. Every undergraduate we've passed today has given you the eye."

"But still, we're not as young as Jessica and Davey."

"What? Come on. Sheila. She's an infant! This Davey nonsense is sheer anti-me rebellion."

"Bob, you'd better face up to the fact that your daughter is a blush away from womanhood."

"Years, Sheila. Years."

She lay back, plucked a blade of grass and began chewing it.

"Not even MIT professors can make time stop," she said.

He looked down at her freckled face.

"I don't want to stop time," he said with emphatic seriousness. "I just want to turn it back."

The candlelight dinner was not at any restaurant. While she was inside confronting Evelyn linger, he had dashed to Mass Avenue and bought canned vichyssoise, frozen chicken divan, salad in a bag and two bottles of very good champagne. As for the candles, there would be plenty in the house in Lexington.

They sat cross-legged in front of the fire and talked for a long time.

At one point he asked, ''Do you remember when we first made love?''

"I try not to. I was so scared."

"And I was so gauche. Do you think your parents ever guessed what we were doing while we house-sat for them?"

'Trobably. We both looked so utterly miserable."

They laughed together.

"I don't know why it went so badly, Sheil. I memorized every manual—even the Kama Sutra"

"In EngHsh?"

"I know it didn't seem that way." He grinned. "But we improved, didn't we?"

"Yes," she said. "Practice makes perfect." She took another sip of champagne.

He moved close to her.

"I've missed our practice sessions," he said quietly.

She did not reply. He moved even closer.

"You know," he whispered, "you're the only woman in the world whose soul is as beautiful as her body."

He realized as he said it that it might sound like a phony line to her. In the past he'd said such things and had been certain that she knew he meant them. Which he had. With all his heart. But now, after everything that had happened, it was possible she'd never trust a word he said.

"I mean it. Sheila," he whispered, brushing back her hair and kissing her forehead.

She did not move away. He took that as a hopeful sign.

"Do you believe I'll always love you?" he asked softly.

She bent her head down. And then answered, "I think so."

He put his arm around her and said firmly, "You believe it. Take it as an article of faith. I love you more than life."

Tears began to trickle slowly down her cheeks.

He looked at her and murmured, *'l know, I know. Fve hurt you so much."

Then both of them were silent. His heart ached for her. He was desperate to make it right again.

''Sheila, could you ever—" He stopped. It was so difficult. ''Do you think you might in time be able to forget the way Fve hurt you?"