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do regret."

"We have two children," Nim said. "A girl and a boy."

"Yes, I know. And because of them you started thinking about religion?"

Nim smiled. "You seem to know all the questions as well as answers."

"Heard 'em before, I guess. That, and I've been around a long time. Don't

worry about your kids, Nim. Teach them decent human instincts -I'm sure

you have. Beyond that, they'll find their own way."

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There was an obvious next question. Nim hesitated, then asked it, "Would

a bar mitzvah help my son find his way?"

"Won't harm him any, will it? You wouldn't be exposing him to some social

disease if you sent him to Hebrew school. Besides, a bar mitzvah's always

followed by a damn good party. You meet old friends, eat and drink more

than you should, but everybody loves it."

Nim grinned. "That's more sense on the subject than I've beard anywhere

else."

Dr. Levin nodded sagely. "Here's some more. Your boy is entitled to make

a choice-that's his right, his heritage. Studying for a bar mitzvah gives

him that. It's like opening a door; let him decide if be wishes to go

through it. Later on, he'll either go Aaron's way, or yours and mine, or

maybe somewhere in between. Whichever he chooses, it's not for us to

worry."

"I'm grateful to you," Nim said. "You've helped my thinking."

"Glad to. There's no cbarge."

While they had been talking, the number of guests had increased while the

hubbub of other conversations swelled in volume. Nim's cherubic companion

glanced around, nodding and smiling; obviously be was acquainted with

almost everyone who had come. His eyes stopped at Ruth Goldman, now

chatting with another woman; Nim recognized her as a concert pianist who

often performed for Israeli causes.

"Your wife looks beautiful tonight," Dr. Levin observed.

"Yes," Nim said, "I told her that as we came in."

The doctor nodded. "She conceals her problem, and her anxiety, well." He

stopped, then added, "My anxiety, too."

Nim regarded him, puzzled. "You're speaking of Ruth?"

"Of course." Levin sighed. "Sometimes I wish I didn't have to treat

patients I care about as much as I do your wife. I've known her since she

was a little girl, Nim. I hope you realize that everything possible is

being done. Everything."

"Doctor," Nim said; he had a sudden sense of alarm, a cold contraction

in his stomach. "Doctor, I don't have the slightest idea what you are

talking about."

"You don't?" Now it was the older man's turn to be startled; an ex-

pression of guilty confusion crossed his face. "Ruth hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

"My friend," Dr. Levin put a hand on Nim's shoulder, "I just made a

mistake. A patient, any patient, is entitled to have confidence re-

spected, to be protected against a gabby doctor. But you're Ruth's hus-

band. I assumed . . ."

Nim protested, "For God's sake, what are we discussing? What's the

mystery?"

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you." Dr. Levin shook his head. "You'll have

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to ask Ruth. When you do, tell her I regret my indiscretion. But tell her

also-I think you ought to know."

Still with some embarrassment, and before he could be subjected to more

questioning, the doctor moved away.

For Nim, the next two hours were agony. He observed the social rituals,

met guests whom he had not already talked with, joined in conversations,

and answered questions from a few people who knew his role at GSP & L.

But all of the time his thoughts were on Ruth. What in hell did Levin

mean by: "She conceals her problem, and her anxiety, well."? And:

"Everything possible is being done. Everything."?

Twice he eased his way through talkative groups to be beside Ruth, only

to find that private conversation was impossible. "I want to talk to

you," he managed to say once, but that was all. Nim realized he would

have to wait until they were on their way home.

At last the party began to wane, the number of guests to thin. The silver

tray was piled high with money for more trees in Israel. Aaron and Rachel

Neuberger were at the outer doorway, bidding good night as people left.

"Let's go," Nim said to Ruth. She retrieved her wrap from a bedroom and

they joined the exodus.

They were almost the last to leave. As a result, the four had a moment

of intimacy which had not been possible earlier.

As Ruth kissed her parents, her mother pleaded, "Couldn't you stay a

little longer?"

Ruth shook her bead. "It's late, Mother; we're both tired." She added,

"Nim has been working very hard."

"if he works so hard," Rachel shot back, "then feed him better!"

Nim grinned. "What I ate tonight will hold me for a week." He held ,out

his hand to his father-in-law. "Before we go, there's something I think

you'd like to know. I've decided to enroll Benjy in Hebrew school so be

can have a bar mitzvah."

For brief seconds there was a silence. Then Aaron Neuberger raised his

hands to the level of his head, palms outward, as if in prayer. "Praise

be to the Master of the Universe! We should all live and be well until

that glorious dayl" Behind the thick-lensed glasses his eyes were wet

with tears.

"We'll talk about specifics . Nim began, but failed to finish because

both of Ruth's parents, together, bugged him tightly in their arms.

Ruth said nothing. But a few minutes later when they were in the car, and

as Nim pulled away, she turned toward him. "That was a beautiful thing

you just did, even though it goes against your beliefs. So why?"

He shrugged. "Some days I'm not sure what I believe. Besides, your friend

Dr. Levin helped straighten my thinking."

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"Yes," Ruth said quietly, "I saw you talking with him. For a long time."

Nim's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Is there anything you want

to tell me?"

"Such as?"

His pent-up frustration poured out. "Such as why you've been going to Dr.

Levin, what it is you are anxious about, and why you've kept it from me.

And, oh yes, your doctor asked me to say be was sorry for being

indiscreet, but that I ought to know-whatever the hell that means."

"Yes," Ruth said, "I suppose it's time you did." Her voice was flat, the

earlier cheerfulness gone. "But will you wait until we are home? I'll

tell you then."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

"I think I'd like a Bourbon and soda," Ruth said. "Do you mind getting

it for me?"

They were in the small, cozy living room of their house, the lights

turned low. It was almost I A.m. Leah and Benjy, who had gone to bed

several hours ago, were asleep upstairs.

"Sure," Nim said. It was unusual for Ruth, who rarely drank anything

stronger than wine, to ask for hard liquor. He crossed to a sideboard

which did duty as a bar, mixed a Bourbon and soda, and poured a cognac

for himself. Returning, he sat facing his wife while she gulped a third

of her drink, then, with a grimace, put the glass down.

"All right," he said. "Now give!"

Ruth took a deep breath, then began. "You remember that mole I had

removed-six years ago?"

"Yes, I do." Strangely, Nim had recalled it only recently-the night he

had been alone in the house, with Ruth away, when he made the decision

to visit Denver. He had noticed the mole in the oil painting of Ruth

which hung in their living room, the portrait where she was wearing a

strapless evening gown. Nim glanced at it now. There was the mole, just

as he remembered it before it was removed: small and dark, on the left

shoulder. He asked, "What about it?"

"It was a melanoma."

"A what?"

"A melanoma is a mole which may have cancer cells. That's why Dr.

Mittelman-you remember, he was the one who took care of me then -advised

me to have it removed. I agreed. Another doctor-a surgeon -did the

cutting. It wasn't a big deal, and afterward both of them said the mole

came away cleanly; there was no sign of anything having spread."

"Yes, I do remember Mittelman saying that." Nim had been mildly

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concerned at the time, but the physician was reassuring, insisting the

procedure was a long-shot precaution, nothing more. As Ruth had just

pointed out, it all happened six years ago; Nim. had forgotten the details

until now.

"Both doctors were wrong," Ruth said; the level of her voice dropped

until it was barely a whisper. "There were cancer-melanoma-cells. They

had spread. Now . . . they've spread still more . . . through my body."

She barely managed to get the last words out. Then, as if a dam pent up

too long had burst, her control dissolved totally. The breath went out

of her in a wail, her body shook with violent sobbing.

For moments Nim sat helpless, numb, unable to comprehend, much less

believe, what he had just heard. Then reality penetrated. With a

whirlwind jumble of emotions-horror, guilt, anguish, pity, love-he went

to Ruth and took her in his arms.

He tried to comfort her, holding her tightly, her face pressed hard

against his own. "My darling, my dearest love, why have you never told

me? In God's name-why?"

Her voice came weakly, muffled by tears. "We weren't close . . . not

loving any more, the way it used to be . . . I didn't want just pity .

. . you had other interests . . . other women."

A wave of shame and self-disgust swept over him. Instinctively, releasing

Ruth, he fell to his knees before her and, taking her hands, be pleaded,

"It's late to ask forgiveness, but I do. I've been a goddam fool, blind,

selfish . . ."

Ruth shook her head; characteristically, some of her control returned.

"You don't have to say all that!"

"I want to say it because it's true. I didn't see it before. I see it

now."

"I already told you I don't want . . . only pity."

He urged, "Look at me!" When she lifted her head he said softly, "I love

you."

"Are you sure you're not just saying it because . . . ?"

"I said I love you, and I mean it! I always have, I guess, except I got

mixed up and stupid. It needed something like this to make me realize .

. . He stopped, then pleaded again, "Is it too late?"

"No." Ruth gave the ghost of a smile. "I never did stop loving you, even

though you've been a bastard."

"I admit it."

"Well," she said, "maybe we owe Dr. Levin something."

"Listen, dearest." He groped for words, wanting to offer reassurance.

"We'll fight this thing together. We'll do everything that's medically

possible. And there'll be no more talk of separation or divorce."

She said loudly, strongly, "I never wanted either. Oh, Nim darling, hold

mel Kiss mel"

He did. Then, as if it had never been, the gulf between them disappeared.

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He asked, "Are you too tired to tell me everything? Tonight? Now?"

Ruth shook her head. "I want to tell you."

For another hour she talked while Nim listened, occasionally interjecting