A Voice In The Night (8 page)

Chapter 17

Flowers joined Luke by telephone hookup and told the story of the flight. He talked at length about the way he’d felt in the light. The tale came out easily, without caution or doubt. Listeners were struck by his quiet authority, but more so, by his new-found enthusiasm for the future.

After signoff, Luke and Jake left by the usual back door, noticing a disconcerting lack of a crowd. Only the limousine and driver awaited them and the security gates were curiously open. The driver usually tensed up for running the gauntlet of onlookers turned to them when they slid inside. His face was jubilant, oddly out of place on the hard-boiled, retired cop. “People aren’t gonna be a bother anymore. Everything’s changed now.” He turned and started to drive and Luke studied the man’s reflection in the rear view mirror.

“Did you listen to the show tonight?”

He answered Luke through the reflection. “I didn’t have to. Everybody just knows, now, everybody.” Luke saw what the driver meant on the ride home. People gathered in small groups everywhere, talking in friendly clusters, connecting with neighbors that they had never talked to, until tonight. They no longer were wary of the somewhat unknown, because there were no unknowns. Eileen was in a group of neighbors when he pulled up outside the house. Jeremy was sleeping in her arms and she smiled at Luke the way she had in those innocent days back in Connecticut.

That was it. The return of innocence. He saw it now on all the faces. But as he looked at them, his new, deeper awareness showed him more. It was the removal of the weight of guilt and the healing of all their own small tragedies. They looked now only toward tomorrow, released from their pasts and any ambiguity about the future.

He walked up and put his arm around her shoulders, steering her lightly toward the house as they nodded goodnight to the neighbors. ”When’s our fence coming down?”

“The men are coming tomorrow, early. Said it’ll take most of the day.” Luke felt a surge of happiness spreading through him from this sharing of domestic detail. Life felt suddenly normal again, even in the midst of momentous change. The essential part of his perfect world was this. It was simply their life together, nurtured by her smile that revealed everything good inside her and the wonderful feel of her smallness tucked in close to his side.

After Jeremy was solidly asleep, they slid into bed and lay silently in each other’s arms. Slowly he began to stroke her, sliding up both sides of her tiny frame to her hands. Then their fingers intertwined and he squeezed tight, while barely brushing her exquisite lips with his. He moved down across her chin and then to her swanlike neck, stopping at her tiny, perfect breasts. She released his fingers so that she could run her hands softly through his hair, happy that he loved her breasts so. She had been self-conscious about them until Luke. They had seemed to her a deficit, but he had convinced her otherwise.

In fact, before Luke, she had thought of herself as only a little above-average-looking, flawed by her large mouth and imperfect nose. At times, she regarded herself as homely, even grotesque. But he had laughed when she first told him this. She would always remembered how he had pulled her out of bed by the hand and led her naked toward the hall mirror. He stood behind her and whispered into her ear. “This is a mirror. It works like this. See that girl? That’s you. It’s not some beautiful girl looking back at you. That’s how you look. Has anybody explained this before?”

She had gone along with the joke. “Me? That’s me? Really? I
am
kind of beautiful.” Eileen turned to face him, glowing her childlike smile.

“And when you do
that
, you’re almost too beautiful for me to bear.” She heard him nearly choke up from the emotion that had swept in on him. She saw that he meant it. She pranced back to bed with a happy feeling that she would bring back by remembering that sweet moment at the mirror. Or she would remember the times when she had caught him looking at her, a hint of surprise flitting across his face as though he were seeing her for the first time.

Now they made love to each other with an ease and agonizing slowness born of familiarity. They knew when to excite each other, bringing themselves to a peak and then pausing just before the end. After a few of these stops she gasped, “Please. Now. Please!” Afterward they lay side-by-side, holding hands lightly, talking softly about small and unimportant things. It was a way for them to prolong their intimacy. Then, Eileen stiffened. “Oh! Gee, I think I’m having a contraction.” Luke jumped up. “Are you sure? You’re not due for what? Four weeks?”

“Well, maybe making love started things off a little early. It’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about.” She knew intuitively that everything would be fine. “Nothing bad can happen now, remember?” He stopped pacing and helped her sit up. “Yeah, that’s right. I guess it’s gonna take a while to get used to that idea.” They packed a bag, called Margaret over to take care of Jeremy, and drove to the hospital. Sadie was born four hours later. She was perfect and strong. Luke and Eileen had their completed family now. Eileen couldn’t remember any labor pain.

She’d had plenty of attention at the medical center, where the number of sick patients had dropped to zero. Maternity was the only department doing a brisk business, but the nurses and doctors felt almost superfluous. Deliveries were uneventful.

Luke headed home in the early morning hours, the first time he’d been able to drive the Healey since all the security measures had taken over their lives. But faithfully, every week, he’d started it and Eileen’s car and let them run for a few minutes to keep them lubricated and the batteries charged. Now he luxuriated in the cool morning air and the early morning sun that swept over him in the open car. Its throaty exhaust growled agreeably and reminded him of the freedom-filled drives they used to take up to the Rhode Island beaches or to Nauset Beach on the Cape.

Now they could decide to have it all again, and perpetual, youthful perfection. But what about Jeremy and Sadie? Would he and Eileen want them to remain perpetual toddlers? No. They would grow up, and he and his wife would stay the same.

Good.

No. Would the kids decide someday to be older than their parents?

Luke laughed at this new and vexing problem. The thoughts of youth turned his mind to their first trip to the Cape, where they’d rented a cottage with a deck that hung out over the water of Town Cove. Pleasure boats and lobstermen would crawl past the floor to ceiling windows of “Foremast,” the name of the house, etched with a wood-burning tool into a board over the door.

They would bicycle up to the Coast Guard Beach access road, and then veer off down the paved bike path that lead through the marshes and dunes. The path rolled and pitched. Eileen would screech in delight as the speed built up, but she wouldn’t apply the brakes. Luke had visions of her crashing into the dense, thorny thicket that edged the narrow path. Sometimes she would turn her head to see where he was and her bike would wobble a little and he would close his eyes so that he wouldn’t see the actual crash. But when he opened them an instant later, she would still be rolling oceanward. She was having so much fun, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that she scared him silly.

At the beach, she would jump out of her cutoff jeans and tee shirt, and gallop swim suited into the enormous surf as he watched again with a combination of admiration and worry. She weighed 98 pounds and he pictured her easily swept away by the undertow, beyond his help. But a moment later she would body surf down a wave and crash onto the shore. Eileen would pop up, grinning, scratched all over from the pebbles and sand, uncaring about the damage to her alabaster skin. He bought her a wet suit at the surf shop in Orleans that afternoon to protect her from her own abandon.

Now he drove to their house, savoring the clean newness of California. The workmen were digging up the fence posts and rolling up the chain link sections of the barrier that had shut them off from the outside world. They had their lives back. Luke crawled into bed and drifted off smiling about his new daughter, of Jeremy asleep in the next room, of his wife. And that he would have them all, forever.

Chapter 18

Margaret Mann was beyond exhaustion and tumbled into bed gratefully, the cool sheets, the comforter and the quiet of her house a respite from an evening caring for the ever-energetic Jeremy. She knew she would drop off to sleep soon enough, so she awarded herself a few more wakeful moments, savoring the day with the flaxen-haired toddler. He had worn her out, while filling her with poignant regret about the life she’d chosen. Now, at least she knew what she’d really wanted during all the years alone - a home filled with young voices, curiosity and the love only children could create in her.

Soon she felt the tunnel of sleep approach and draw her down. She succumbed to it with snuggling anticipation. Now her waking dream began to merge with that of early sleep. Children and home, the vigor of her youth, the presence of a man, all these flitted through her unconsciousness, not clear and coherent, but more penetrating and deeply felt in their disjointedness. Oddly, she was able to keep the images alive, willing them to continue.

Margaret was able to watch herself as she had once been by zooming through the soft focus of her dream. She saw herself in her mid-twenties again. Her light brown hair fell loosely to her shoulders. Her lips were full beyond voluptuousness. Her cat-like, nearly-emerald eyes darted about, reflecting her thoughts, emotions, and the range of choices and uncertainties before her at any given moment. This odd habit, she now could see, was something that men had been unconsciously drawn to. It softened the impact of her considerable beauty with a tinge of vulnerability, making her seem approachable, as did the tentativeness of her smile.

The morning sun slanted through the lace-curtained windows, awakening her abruptly, as it always did. Her bed was angled to take advantage of these first rays of day. As she swung her legs out over the floor, she vaguely noticed how tan and shapely they were. She walked absently toward the bathroom without the usual stiffness and aches that accompanied her first steps every morning. She felt surprisingly strong and agile. Then she confronted a familiar but unexpected face in the mirror.

She was still dreaming. That was it. Dreaming of her youth. Then she knew that this was no dream. Both excitement and anxiety welled up in her that moment. She edged in closer to the image in the glass and felt the possibilities of another chance at a life that could be vacant of emptiness and longing. The face smiling back at her was the one from her dream. Firm and lean, smooth and unworn. Had she been this young once? It was like looking at an old photograph, only half-believing you had ever been so fresh and undamaged by time.

Now she returned to the bedroom, moving with a lightness and grace she hadn’t felt in years. Margaret stripped off the nightgown and let it fall to the floor as she stood in front of the full-length mirror to see if this was really true. Yes. She knew this body, the nearly perfect symetry, the trim midriff, the erect and elegant posture her athlete’s muscles allowed. Convinced, she pulled the garment back on and headed toward Luke and Eileen’s, feeling the wet grass between her toes. An image from years ago flooded back to her from an early morning at the summer girls’ camp where she had been a lifeguard. She was walking toward the beach on a morning just like this, perfect cool, breaking sunlight, and thinking, “This is as good as life is ever going to be. As good as
I’m
ever going to be.” She drank in the moment back then, shivering a little at this instant of self-awareness.

Today, as she hurried through her backyard toward the carriage house, she knew youth was hers again, to do with as she liked, to get it right this time. Luke had seen her coming from the kitchen window, and stepped outside smiling, his head cocked to the side, already understanding what had taken place. Margaret stood before him. “Can you believe this? Look at me.” She bent down and pulled up the nightgown without thinking.

Luke started to laugh, and Margaret, realizing what she was doing, dropped the gown to cover herself and continued without pause or embarrassment. “I was just dreaming or something about having kids and a husband and everything and I woke up to this!” Luke guided her inside and motioned to the kitchen chairs. “I think this calls for some coffee and maybe breakfast, huh? And maybe I can explain what’s been happening.” Margaret shrugged. “I guess I kind of know. It’s part of this thing about choosing anything you want and living it. I don’t know
how
I know that, but I just do.” Luke walked behind Margaret’s chair and circled her with his arms. “I’m really happy for you, but this is gonna take getting used to. You’ve been like our west coast mom since we’ve been here and now you look like our sister.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to be both.” Luke nodded at the idea. He manned the skillet, frying up bacon, then scrambling several eggs, the only thing he’d ever learned to cook. Margaret’s words careened on. There’d be new clothes to buy and maybe even new young men. But this time she’d know better how to choose, have clarity about what she wanted. It frightened and excited her, the prospect of starting over, armed with the experience of her years. The smells of breakfast brought Jeremy, sliding out of bed and stumbling into the kitchen, gripping his crotch because he had to pee. “The bathroom, honey. Pee first, then breakfast. And remember to flush.” He wobbled down the hall, and turned skidding into the bathroom. The sound of the steady stream convinced Luke that the boy had made it on time and his aim was true. Luke shook his head, grinning at Margaret. This is what she had to look forward to now. And she did.

“How are Eileen and the baby? My God, I didn’t even think to ask, with all this.” She gestured to her transformed face and figure.

“They’re great. Labor was nothing. Seemed like a few minutes and no discomfort at all. They’ll be home in a day or so.”

“Well, maybe in a week or two Eileen can take me shopping for a lot of new clothes, ones that look more like my new me. Gee I wonder how old I am.” Just then, Jeremy zoomed into the room, looked at Margaret, looked away, then back with a question squinting through his eyes. “Howcum you’re all new-looking Mag?”

“I just got younger honey. That’s all.” The answer seemed to satisfy him. He shrugged and dove into his breakfast, wielding a fork in his strange, child-like way. Margaret looked across the long table, seeing her new life before her, reflected in the small boy.

After breakfast, Luke herded them outside for a look at the property, set free by the removal of the high fences that had surrounded them. They slowly walked the perimeter as he ticked off the things he had to do before the new baby came home. The room was there but they’d waited on the furniture. At least he could screw the crib back together and wash down the little mattress. And he had to go to work. Or did he? This, he’d have to think about, but his first instinct was yes. Luke had learned to go ahead with his initial impulses, knowing he’d eventually cave in to them anyway. That was his way. He was not one to weigh the pros and cons of things. He always thought he was right in his instinctive, rapid-fire decisions. And when they turned out wrong he had a wonderful facility for forgiving himself. Guilt and regret simply weren’t part of his wiring.

Margaret returned to her house and skipped down the stairs to the basement, to the garment bags that hung there, dust-covered. These were her someday clothes, a wardrobe from thinner days that she kept for the time when she’d perhaps be trim enough to wear them again, but doubting she ever would. She flipped through the outdated garments, finally settling on jeans and a cotton work shirt. She stepped out of the nightgown and pulled the jeans on easily, with room to spare. The shirt, one she’d always loved for its comfort and well-worn look, slipped on easily. Upstairs again, she dug back into her closet for a pair of ancient boat shoes, stepped into them and headed for the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth. Back in the bedroom, she regarded herself in the full-length mirror. This was the her she knew, the self-image that had remained in her consciousness, even as the years eroded her to a middle-aged reality. It had surprised and saddened her whenever she glimpsed that old and unfamiliar version of herself reflected in a store window as she passed. It was time for a test drive. She walked to LeMesa center and slipped happily in and out of the shops whose clothes had been decidedly too young for her yesterday. The sales clerks helped her pick some casual tops, slacks and shoes, the start of a new wardrobe. Margaret could discern a respect and responsiveness in them, perhaps even pleasure, derived from dressing someone upon whom everything looked good.

Later she sat over coffee in an outdoor café, noticing how she was being noticed. Women would simply glance for a second too long, but the men stared. One, in particular, watched her like the others, but when she turned and caught him looking, a sheepish grin washed across his face. He looked down to his newspaper. She watched the grin well up again a moment later and his eyes return to hers. She liked that he took amusement in their flirtation and had the confidence to let it go without pursuing. She paid the check and left, not ready yet to take her test drive further.