Portraits (84 page)

She laughed, with tears in her eyes. “And, Bill S. Hart, I love you too. You’ve got to be the best damn son any mother could be privileged to have.”

After seeing Michele, who was every bit as joyful as he was, he walked down the hall toward the nursery and waited, looking through the glass. When he saw the nurse bring his child out to be taken to Michele he said, “Here, give me that little fellow.”

She protested that it was against the rules. He told her, “To hell with that. I’m going to take him in to see his mother. You better get used to that rule.”

“But you don’t have a mask and a gown on.”

“I don’t think this kid’s going to mind a bit,” and he strode down the hall with the little blanket-wrapped bundle and swung open the door. Laying the child alongside Michele, he said, “Here’s your Christmas present…best damn present you’re ever going to get from me.” He bent over, kissed her lingeringly. “Thank you, lady. You’re one hell of a woman.”

“And you’re the best damn man I’ve ever known in my life.”

The whole household revolved around Steven, and no matter where Eliot happened to be Michele always heard the sound of his jeep coming round the bend at feeding time.

He dashed up the stairs to the nursery, kissed her generously, and settled into the big wing chair to watch as Michele held the child to her breast. Eliot loved the look and sound of his son’s enjoyment. From time to time, she would glance over and smile at him. When she’d finished nursing he’d say, “Here, give me that kid. Burping’s my job.”

“Eliot, you’ll have to put a diaper over your shoulder.”

He obeyed reluctantly. “You know, this kid’s going to get a few germs anyway, diaper or no diaper…Wow, fellow, that was a good one.” Then he’d hold the child in his arms and look down at him. “I’ll be damned if you’re not the best-looking kid I ever saw. You look just like your mother.”

“Eliot, he looks exactly like you and you know it.”

“Only his plumbing. The rest of him is you, Michele.”

“Have it your way, but he’s absolutely a duplicate you. Your father swore he thought he was seeing you for the first time again.”

Looking at the child and smiling, he said, “You really think so?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him.”

“Yeah, come to think of it, he does look like me. And he’s a damn good-looking kid in spite of it.” …

Doris and Henry came out to spend the week for Steven’s first birthday, and there wasn’t a happier grandfather than Henry. As for Doris, she couldn’t understand why Steven wasn’t the most incorrigibly spoiled child in the world. Michele doted on him, and Doris doubted if there was a toy left in Reno. The things that Eliot bought were absolute insanity. A panda the size of a six-year-old, a huge red fire truck, an electric train set…On the momentous occasion of Steven cutting his first tooth, Eliot insisted it had to be on beef jerky…By the time Steven was two, he was riding on Eliot’s lap in the jeep, and on Steven’s third birthday, Eliot took him into Reno and had him outfitted with boots, a Stetson and chaps…“Here, let me take a look at you. Yeah, terrific. Okay, buckaroo, let’s go home and show mama…”

When Steven was four Eliot kept him out an entire week during round-up, but this was one excursion that backfired. When they came home, Steven was put to bed with a very bad cold, which made Eliot more than a little nervous. Maybe this time he’d gone too far. The humidifier in Steven’s room ran day and night for a week, and Eliot wouldn’t leave the child for a moment. He slept on a cot in his room and it was only when Steven was up and around, “full of piss and vinegar again,” that Eliot began to relax…

At six, Steven looked like a miniature Eliot and could ride a horse almost as well. Eliot gave him his first rifle, which didn’t please Michele in the least. But Eliot said that his father Ben had taught him to shoot at that age and Steven was going to do the same. If Michele had any funny ideas that he was going to grow up to be a sissy, she had another guess coming…

When Doris came at Thanksgiving that year, she proudly announced that Michele had a little niece, a
sabra
by the name of Aviva, born at the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem.

“Mama, I know you miss them terribly and eight years is such a long time. Why don’t you and dad go and visit? Imagine how thrilled they’d be for you to see the new baby. And Mordechai is almost nine now.”

Doris sighed. “I’m dying to see them, and dad and I have thought about it, but the trip is so expensive…Then again, if we don’t do it now…You’re right, we’re going this summer.”

“Oh, I’m so happy, mama. What are you smiling at?”

“The differences in my grandchildren’s lives—one a cowboy living in Nevada, the other living on a kibbutz in the Negev, and my new
sabra
…Isn’t that a magnificent name, Aviva?”

“It’s beautiful. What does it mean in Hebrew?”

“Robin…I mean Rahel said it meant spring, the most beautiful time of the year.”

Indeed it was, Michele thought, remembering the spring morning she’d given birth to Steven. That morning had been the final proof to her that her ghosts were a thing of the past.

B
UNDLED IN HIS HOODED
Mackinaw coat, Steven sat in the jeep between his mother and father. It was a tradition that Steven was familiar with, the cutting down of the Christmas tree. He had chosen this year’s tree almost a year ago, and he knew it would be ready for cutting.

It was cold and crisp, a winter wonderland. The boughs on the towering firs and pines were bending under the weight of the snowfall.

They got out of the jeep, eagerly took the axes and lanterns and trudged through the snow to Steven’s tree.

As Eliot swung back his axe to make the first cut, they heard the sound of gunfire. None of them were startled since hunting jackrabbits in the snow was not uncommon, but “some crazy bastard” was poaching on Eliot’s land and he didn’t like that.

“Wherever the hell you are, get off my land,” he called out.

The echo of his voice hadn’t even died when another shot rang out and Michele and Steven watched Eliot double over and fall face down into the snow.

It was so sudden, so unexpected, that Michele wasn’t quite sure what had happened. When she saw him lying motionless, she cried out, “Get up, Eliot.” When he didn’t move she bent down, her knees sinking into the snow, and tried pulling him onto his back. But she was trembling now, and she wasn’t strong enough. “Steven, help me. Help me roll daddy over!”

They finally got him on his back, but when she saw the blood rushing from Eliot’s mouth she became hysterical. “Eliot, get up, get up!” she pleaded. “Don’t do this, Eliot, get up.” She bent down, took his head in her arms and held him against her. “Oh, my God, Eliot you can’t, you can’t…”

Steven stood wide-eyed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Mommy, dad’s hurt. Let’s get a doctor.”

She took off her coat and covered Eliot. “Please, Eliot, get up.” But all she heard was the sound of his labored breathing. “Darling, we’ll be right back,” she said frantically. She grabbed Steven by the hand and they drove to Ben’s.

When she arrived and opened the door, Juanita saw the blood on Michele’s hands and cheek. “My God, what’s happened?”

“Eliot’s been shot—”

“Oh, my God, no…”

“Where’s Ben?”

“He’s in bed.” She ran through the house and came back moments later with Ben. “Let me get my coat, Michele. Juanita, call Dr. Mason to get an ambulance out there. Have Nick and some of the boys meet us…where’s Eliot?”

“Over at the east acres…we were cutting down a tree…”

Ben took Michele and Steven out to the jeep and drove them back to where Eliot was, and minutes later four of the hands had arrived. Ben had told her to stay in the jeep while he went to Eliot, but suddenly she couldn’t stand to just sit there, to be without Eliot. As she got out and started across to her husband, one of the men stopped her.

“Mrs. Burns, let me take you home. The others will take care of Eliot.”

Trying to push him aside, she screamed, “No, I want to see Eliot.”

“Mrs. Burns, come on, let me take you home.”

“Michele, I think you’d better listen to Mac,” Ben said “Go ahead now, and I’ll meet you up at the house…”

By the time they brought Eliot back, there was no need for the ambulance. The men carried him into the house and up the stairs to his room, with Ben following.

Michele started to go in, but Ben stopped her.

“Don’t go in, Michele.”

“Get out of my way, Ben.”

“Michele, listen to me…Eliot’s gone.”

She looked at his face. “It can’t be true. Just an hour ago we were…Get
out
of my way, I’m going to see my husband.” She opened the door…His face was covered, and he was lying so still. She refused to believe it, he was going to get up any minute. She walked slowly to the bed, took the sheet off his face and spoke to him as though he would answer. “Eliot, darling, please wake up, please…” And then she threw herself across him and let the anguished, soundless cries wash over them both…

When Ben called Doris she understood what was being said but she couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible…“How is Michele?”

“In pretty bad shape.”

“Steven?”

“About the same, I’m afraid. I guess it’s going to take us to see this thing through.”

“Yes, Ben. Henry and I will be there as soon as we can get a plane.” …

When they went up to Michele’s room and saw her sitting in the large wing chair and staring quietly into the fire, Doris wished she could die rather than see her child like this. “Darling, daddy and I got here as soon as we could.”

Michele did not respond.

“Michele, darling, come lie down.”

She looked at Doris. “You know Eliot’s dead.”

“Yes, darling, we know. Now please come lie down.”

“No, I can’t ever sleep in that bed again. I just want to sit here alone, mama.”

“Please, Michele.”

But Michele wasn’t listening. Then, quietly, “I want to die, mama.”

“Don’t say that…Eliot wouldn’t want you to say that.”

Henry said, “Come on, darling.”

She looked up at her father. “Dad, I want to sit here, this is what I have of Eliot.”

“You have more than that. You have Steven—”

“No, I can’t look at Steven. When I do, I see Eliot.”

Taking her hand, he said, “Come, dear…”

Like a child, she followed him down the hall to another room. Tucking her under the covers, he said, “I want you to take one of these.”

“No, I don’t want to go to sleep. I never want to go to sleep, I don’t want to do anything.”

“Please, Michele, do this for me—”

Doris had a glass of water handy as Henry put the Nembutal to her mouth. They sat in the room until she finally fell asleep, then they went to see Steven.

He was crying and angry. “Somebody killed my dad and I’m going to kill them.”

Henry held the little boy very close. “You mustn’t say that, Steven. It was an accident.”

“No!” he screamed. “I’m going to kill them like they killed my dad.”

“Steven, listen to your grandpa. If you love your father you won’t say that kind of thing, because you know he wouldn’t want you to. Now, I know it’s going to be very hard, but you must try to be a brave boy and remember, your mother needs you. Your father would want you to remember that.”

He clung to Henry and cried out his broken heart.

The day Eliot was buried, Michele stood like a statue watching the coffin being lowered into the ground. There was nothing real about it. In fact, it wasn’t happening to her. She was watching a young woman dressed in black, standing there with a little boy…It wasn’t happening to her, not to Michele…not to Steven…

After the services were over they went back to the house, which was full of people who had come to pay their respects. Fran and Paul Kaufman were the last to leave.

After Steven and a sedated Michele had been put to bed, Ben and Henry sat silently as Juanita said to Doris, “Ben and I thought maybe we’d take Michele over to our place but she refuses to go. In fact, she won’t leave the house. Doris, I don’t want to upset you, but I think we’ve got a very sick young woman on our hands. She was a little
too
quiet today.”

Henry said, “That happens after tremendous shock. But of course she can’t be alone, so Doris will stay for a while until we feel that she’s ready to make a change of some kind. Then we’ll all decide what’s best.”

“You can count on me for anything. Now, is there anything I can do for you before I leave? I think I should get Ben home,” Juanita said.

Ben spoke now for the first time. “No parent should live to bury his own child.” He got up and walked out of the house without another word.

Juanita said goodnight and followed him…

Doris stayed for a month, and Ben and Juanita came up to the big house every night. Michele seemed composed and resigned now.

One evening Ben stood in front of the fire in Eliot’s favorite room and said, “What do you want to do, Michele?”

She replied almost inaudibly. “I want to stay here.”

“But you can’t live here alone, Michele, in this big house,” Juanita said.

“Yes, I can…it’s all I have left of Eliot and I can’t leave.”

“Why don’t you come and stay with us for a little while, or go home with your mother and father for a bit. It would do you good to get away—”

She shook her head. “No, I’m going to stay here.”

“Michele,” Ben said, “your mother can’t stay forever and I don’t think it’s good for you to be here alone.”

“That’s what I’ve decided to do.”

Juanita said, “Well, if you’ve thought about it, Michele, and that’s what you’d like, then Ben and I will be here every day.”

Michele just sat, making no reply.

When they were on the plane going home, Doris felt she shouldn’t be leaving, that Michele still needed her. When she got home she called two and three times a day. There was a peculiar serenity about Michele, and she wished she felt the same way. If only she could convince herself that Michele had come to terms with her tragedy…

Two weeks after Doris returned home, she received a phone call from Juanita. “Doris, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…Michele is in the psychiatric ward at the hospital.”