Heartwood (21 page)

“When do you think you’ll go?” she asked.

–—

Robby left the next week. He kissed her before he walked out to his car—he was driving to Ohio—and she stood in the doorway and waved good-bye. Then she closed the door and went back inside and made herself a cup of coffee, and listened to the whir of her refrigerator in her silent kitchen. She and Robby had been separated before, of course. But this time … she wondered if she’d miss him.

“R
obby’s gone to Blair’s Falls, and Laura says she’s not sure when he’s coming back. Something’s wrong,” Iris said. The worry lines were creasing her forehead, and she was biting her lip.

“It’s not a separation,” Theo soothed. “He went to visit his mother.”

The worry lines relaxed a little. “I wish Laura could have gone with him.”

“She had to work. There’s the reception she’s catering for that pianist.” The reception was to be held in Manhattan, and the pianist in question was a young girl who was the big new name in the classical music world. The job was very glamorous and a big coup for Laura. “It’s the first time she’s done a party in the city. This is important to her.”

“So is her marriage.”

And they were back to Iris’s concern … no, it was a fixation … 
with Laura’s marriage. Unfortunately, her motives weren’t as pure as she liked to think. It was true that Iris genuinely believed in marriage and she couldn’t imagine a full, joyful life for any woman without it. But it was also true that she didn’t want her daughter to fail at the thing at which her mother had been so brilliant. Theo shook his head. Mothers and daughters, he would never understand that relationship. They loved each other so much, certainly Iris and Anna had, but Iris had always been in competition with Anna—not that she’d ever admit it. Laura had been Iris’s secret weapon in that competition. It was as if Laura could vindicate her mother in her struggle with her mother. Theo shook his head again. It was all so very feminine … and so very convoluted.

He should probably try to say something that would put his wife’s mind at ease … But no, he wasn’t going to have to. Because Iris was looking at her watch, which meant that her agile mind had just switched to an even greater concern than Laura’s marital status. Him. Sure enough, she came bustling to his side. “Good gracious, Theo,” she said. “I’ve been going on and on, and it’s time for you to take your nap.”

There had been a time when he would have argued that naps were for children and he would have given her a hard time. But these days he was always grateful for a rest. Not a good sign, but to be expected. That was what he had to remember. It was to be expected. He allowed his wife to lead him into the bedroom and soon he was lying in bed with the lights turned off, supposedly trying to sleep. But his mind returned again to the never-ending puzzle of Iris, Anna and Laura. And Anna’s secret. Which was at the heart of the puzzle. He could still remember the fateful afternoon when he’d learned the secret. The man who had told him the story was named Paul Werner.
Before that day, Theo had only known him as an old friend of Anna’s. Theo closed his eyes and in his mind he was transported back to the late sixties, when his life was in shambles.

The immediate cause of his misery had been a terrible accident. It had occurred during a furious quarrel with Iris, when she’d closed a car door on his hand. She hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t seen his hand, but his fingers had been severed and in a few seconds his career as a plastic surgeon had ended. That was all it had taken; some words spoken in rage, a car door slammed shut and a hand that was in the way. And his life as he had known it was over. He couldn’t earn a living, and since he had always lived beyond his means, he hadn’t had a penny of savings. He was soon drowning in debt, and Iris was drowning in guilt. She couldn’t be in the same house with him, and he had been living in his office.

Theo had pulled down the blinds and was playing Verdi’s
Requiem
on the stereo when Paul Werner had knocked on his door. He’d let Paul in—he’d never been sure why, since he barely knew the man—and after a bit of prodding Theo had spilled all the details of his desperate situation. To his amazement Paul had offered to support him and his family while he trained himself in a new branch of medicine. Paul had claimed he was making this outrageously generous offer because of his old friendship with Anna, but Theo had dismissed that lie and demanded the truth. Then it had been Paul’s turn to tell his story—the one he’d been carrying inside him for almost forty years.

When she first came to America from Poland, Anna had worked as a maid in the home of Paul’s parents, Florence and Walter Werner. The Werners were an old and respected New York family with deep roots in the German Jewish community
of the city. All of this Theo had known. But he hadn’t known that while Anna was working for the Werners, she and Paul had fallen in love—helplessly and, as it turned out, hopelessly, because Paul was already engaged. His fiancée was a girl of his own class and his family had been hoping for years for the match. Unable to disappoint them, Paul had married his fiancée, knowing that Anna was the only woman for him. A heartbroken Anna had married Joseph Friedman, knowing that Paul was the love of her life.

Joseph had prospered and become a wealthy and influential real estate developer. Paul had taken over his family’s bank and prospered too. Both marriages seemed sound. But the love between Paul and Anna had not died or dimmed, and when fate threw them together several years later, they had finally consummated the passion that had started when she was a servant in his family’s house. Out of that act of love, Iris had been born.

This was Anna’s secret. She had tried to keep it from Paul, but he had discovered the truth. He had wanted desperately to have some kind of connection with his child, but Anna had been terrified. Still, he had managed to engineer the occasional meeting with the two of them. For reasons she had never been able to articulate, Iris had not liked those encounters and she had disliked Paul Werner.

Now, Theo opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The bedroom was cool and so silent he could hear the bedside clock ticking. Wherever she was in the house Iris was moving quietly so he could sleep. But his mind was too full.

“Iris is my daughter,” Paul had said when he finished his tale. “Now you know what’s hidden.” And then he had threatened Theo. “And if you ever repeat this, I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill myself.”

Theo had sworn that he would never tell anyone—not because of the threat, but because he agreed with Paul that Iris must never, ever know the circumstances of her birth. However, it was because she was Paul’s daughter that Theo had been able to justify borrowing the money—he couldn’t have taken it as a gift—that had rescued him and his family.

It had taken Theo years to repay Paul, and during that time Paul had only asked for one thing. “Stay in touch and tell me how Iris is doing—how you all are doing. Your children too.” Theo’s children, who were Paul’s grandchildren. The only grandchildren he had since he and his wife were childless. “Do you want to know how I’ve kept track of my daughter all these years?” Paul had demanded once. The pain in his eyes had been almost too much to bear. “There’s a shop on Madison Avenue where Iris and Anna buy their clothes. It’s called Chez Lea.” It was one of the most expensive stores in Manhattan, and back in the days when Theo was throwing his money around, he had encouraged Iris to patronize the place. He nodded.

“The owner of that store is a woman called Leah Sherman. She knows about Iris …”

Theo couldn’t stop an involuntary intake of breath. “Why take the chance—?” he began to say, but Paul cut him off.

“I’ve known Leah since she was a child, and I would trust her with my life. For all these years she has given me what no one else could.” He paused. “Iris is the only child I have. I’ve kept away from her because Anna said it was too dangerous. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve seen Iris face-to-face, or managed to say a few words to her. I’ve forced Anna to let me meet her … but it’s been so little … so little.” There was a pleading note in his cultured voice now. “A man wants to know his child. And the only way I could get any
information about Iris was through Leah. Whenever Anna or Iris came into her shop, Leah could be my eyes and ears. It wasn’t enough, but it was the best I could get and I’m not ashamed to say that I let her spy on them for me. I’ve been that desperate.”

Paul Werner was a proud and private man, and Theo thought it must be costing him greatly to make himself this vulnerable. But Paul had let the floodgates open after years of silence and now it seemed that he needed to talk. “I don’t even have a picture of Iris. Do you know what I do when I want to see her face? I have an oil painting of my late mother. Iris is the exact image of her, so I look at that portrait and tell myself it’s of both of them. I suppose that sounds crazy or foolish to you.”

No
, Theo had wanted to say,
it’s just so very sad
.

He and Paul had talked one last time about all of these things on the day when Theo had handed Paul the final check of repayment for his loan. Theo had tried to express his gratitude again, but Paul had waved him off. He had looked down at the check in his hands and he’d said softly, “These years since we started our arrangement have been the best I’ve known. For the first time, I’ve felt I was a part of Iris’s life.” There were tears streaming down his face, and he didn’t try to wipe them away. “I could never give her a doll for her birthday. I never knew what her favorite color was, or her favorite subject in school. When you married her, your wedding was in all the newspapers because Joseph Friedman was an influential man. Not because of me—because of Joseph. I stood in the crowd outside the temple and tried to catch a glimpse of my child as she ran to the limousine. That was all I could do. But now, I’m a part of her life.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” was all Theo could think to say.

“Whatever I’ve given you—and I’m not minimizing it, I
know what that money has meant to you, but it can’t compare with what you’ve done for me. Just know that.”

Theo had known it. And even though he never could—or would—have revealed any of this history to Iris, in time he’d been able to convince her to change her mind about her mother’s old friend. She had come to care about Paul, and that had given Theo great satisfaction. Paul had died several years ago, and Theo had been grateful that Iris had made peace with her father, even if she hadn’t been aware of it.

–—

In the bedroom, Theo sat up. He wasn’t tired anymore. It was as if remembering the past—even those days that had been so charged with emotion—had refreshed him. He found that happened sometimes these days. He walked out of the bedroom and found Iris sitting with a book in her lap. But she was not reading it; it was clear her thoughts were far away. When she heard his footsteps behind her, she jumped to her feet, ready to do whatever he needed. She was like that now, always on the alert in case he was in trouble.

“Are you all right? Did you sleep?” she asked. He heard the anxiety in her voice even though she was trying to cover it.

What will she do when I am gone? May the God she believes in, that I do not, help her
.

“Yes, yes. I had a nice rest.” He made his way to his chair and sat. She sat opposite him. “You looked so pensive when I came in,” he said. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

She laughed a little. “Oh, just that it’s interesting the way our minds work. I’ve been so worried about Laura and Robby … well, you know that. And to be honest with you, I was sitting here thinking about that photographer. Then for some reason I
started thinking about Paul Werner. I was just wondering to myself why I made the leap in my mind from that arty-looking photographer with his awful hair to Paul Werner, who was such an elegant man.”

Ah, my Iris, you do know why. When you were a child you sensed what was between Paul and your mother. Now you know in your heart that the same thing is there between our daughter and that young man. But you can’t admit it, and you’re afraid
.

But he wasn’t going to say it, because she was sitting up very straight like a good little girl hoping to hear that the things that frightened her were all in her imagination. And it was his job to protect her from the things that frightened her, at least for a while longer. While he was still here.

“Are you asking me to explain the way your mind works?” he asked with a grin. “After all these years you are still a mystery to me, my darling. And I hope that never changes.”

And after he had kissed her, and she had kissed him back, he asked her what they were having for supper, and she said soup. She went into the kitchen to heat it up for him, and as they ate it together at their kitchen table, he thought how simple life really was. You could solve so many of your problems with a grin and a kiss and a bit of soup. And he wished, oh so much, that he had known that years earlier.