Evergreen (42 page)

“Am I? I hope so. Because I know I wasn’t when we were married.”

“You shouldn’t say that!”

“Why not? It’s true,” he said gently. “It doesn’t matter now, but don’t deny it. Everything must be open and honest between us, always.”

“I was a very young, very ignorant girl who didn’t know a thing about life! Nothing at all, don’t you understand?” Tears prickled and she wiped them roughly away. “Don’t you understand?” she repeated.

“Now that were talking about it, I’m not sure I do understand everything. I’ve felt—I feel—there are things I still don’t know about you.”

Fear that was almost panic washed through Anna. “Why? What can you possibly not know?”

He hesitated. “Well, as long as were talking, I’ll tell you. Do you know when I was really beside myself?”

“I can’t imagine,” she lied.

“It was the time when Paul Werner sent you that picture, the one that was supposed to look like you. I tried not to let you see it but I was pretty frantic inside.”

“But that was—that was years ago! And I thought we had talked it all out and settled it then!”

“I know we did, and I suppose it’s foolish of me to let it stay in my head. But I can’t seem to help it.”

“It’s a pity to make yourself miserable for nothing,” Anna said softly.

“You’re absolutely right. But tell me just once again, and don’t be angry: did you love him? I won’t ask whether he was in love with you, because it’s obvious that he was, and besides, I don’t mind that. I only want to know whether you loved him. Did you? Anna?”

She took a deep breath. “I never loved him.” (I went through agonies of longing, and often I still do. But that’s not the same, is it?
Is it?)

I wonder what it would be like for me now if I were married to Paul. Would I feel that he needed me the way Joseph does? Does perfection—and it was perfection—would it, can it, last?

Joseph was smiling. “I believe what you tell me, Anna.”

“You won’t bring it up again? It’s really finished and over?”

“Finished and over.”

She thought, if only I could feel sure of that, Joseph! What I would give not to have hurt you! You’ve become so dear to me, you couldn’t know. And it’s strange, because we are such different people. We don’t even like or want the same things most of the time. Yet if it were necessary, I would die for you.

So, is that love? Love is only a word, after all, like any other word. If you repeat it a few times you take the life out of it. Tree. Table. Stone. Love.

“Anna, darling, put out the light and come to bed.”

Her bathrobe dropped to the chair with a swish of silk. The wind struck again, shivering the windowpane. Feeling her way in the dark across the room, her thoughts flew as they had been flying all that day.

We are driven by random winds, blown and crushed under passing wheels, or lifted to a garden in the sun. And for no reason at all, that anyone can see.

Gramp had a blue Chrysler with a top that could be rolled down in fine weather, and usually was, even on such a cold, bright April day as this. He was a believer in fresh air as a medicament for everything. The car had been specially fitted for his almost powerless legs; the clutch worked by hand when the gears were shifted. They kept the car back of the house in what for past generations had been the barn and stables. When Gramp went out on his crutches, he reminded Eric of a crab, the way his legs jerked, the way he veered to swing himself up onto the front seat. When he was seated there with his cap on and his pipe in his mouth he looked like anybody else; you couldn’t tell he was crippled. Maybe that’s why he liked to go driving so much.

“Okay, young fella,” he said, “be sure the door’s closed; put the button down.” He reached to fit the key into the ignition and suddenly stopped. From the clump of trees between the barn and the lake came a sweet whistle:
“Pee-wee! Pee-wee!”

Gramp put his finger to his lips. “Shsshsh … know what that is? That’s a wood pee-wee. Close cousin to the eastern phoebe.”

“What does it look like?”

“Gray, like the phoebe, except for two white bars on the wings.”

“Pee-wee! Pee-wee!”

“Could I see it if I got out now?”

“You probably could if you went in under the trees there verrr-y quietly and sat down and didn’t move, not even a finger. I wonder whether you could learn to use my binoculars? I don’t know why not. Maybe tomorrow I’ll show you how. They’re on the second shelf of my cabinet in the library, next to my bird books.”

The car slid into gear and down the driveway, turned through the gate posts and on down the road past his friend Teddy’s. Next came Dr. Shane’s big yellow house, then the Timminses’ and the Whitelys’ who kept saddle horses on their long fields. The car slid into the main street of Brewerstown.

“We need gas,” Gramp said. “Reach me the ration book in the glove compartment, Eric, please.”

The gas station man was stooping under a car. When he saw them he straightened up, wiping black, oily hands on a rag.

“Afternoon, Mr. Martin. Fill her up?”

“If you please, Jerry. I’m being extravagant today. It’s Eric’s birthday and were going for a ride.”

“Is that a fact? Happy birthday! You must be nine, or is it ten?”

“Seven,” Eric said, very pleased. “Seven! You’re mighty big for seven!”

“Tell me, what do you hear from Jerry junior?” Gramp inquired.

“He’ll be finished with basic training at Fort Jackson next week. I guess he’ll be going over soon after that.”

Gramp didn’t answer. There was no sound but the whir of the pump; then it shut off, and they waited while Gramp handed over the ration book and some bills. Jerry tore out the stamps and handed the book back soberly.

“Well, good luck,” Gramp said softly. “Remember me to Jerry junior. Tell him I expect him back. We all do, soon.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Gramp started the car again and they rolled down Main Street to the lake road.

“Where we going, Gramp?”

“I’m doing a will for Oscar Thorgerson. You know the big farm on the other side of Peconic? I thought I’d run over with some notes to see how he likes them. Then I can draw it up officially. It’ll save him a trip in ploughing time and it gives you and me an excuse for an outing.” He smiled down sidewise at Eric.

The road ran beside a strip of groves and summer cottages, still boarded up. There were glimpses of the lake between the trees. Then the road curved away from the lake, mounted a ridge of hills and straightened, dividing a wide valley with farms and fields on either side. The wind made a rushing noise like a waterfall in Eric’s ears. A man was ploughing an enormous field; ahead of him it was dry tan with stubble of last year’s corn; behind him it was dark and wet like melting chocolate. The great horses trudged steadily uphill.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen horses pulling a plough,” Gramp said.

“Why? How else can you do it?”

“With tractors. But now there’s a war on and no gas, so the horses are out again. Say, look at that!”

A flock of birds soared and slid and whirled across the sky.

“Swallows,” Gramp said. “Oh, birding has been one of the great pleasures of my life! I’ve sighted birds that people wait years to see. And when we lived in France I had to learn a whole new vocabulary, not just the names, but new kinds of birds that we don’t have here. I remember the first time I heard and then saw a nightingale. It was a delight, a pure delight.”

“Say something in French, please, Gramp.”

“Je te souhaite une bonne anniversaire.”

“What does that mean?”

“I wish you a happy birthday.”

“It sounds pretty.”

“French is a beautiful language. It’s like music.”

“Can you say anything you want to say in French?”

“Oh, yes. Although I’m not as proficient as I was when
we lived there. You need to use a language or it slips away from you.”

“I’d like to go to France. Are the trees and houses and everything the same as they are here?”

“Well, yes, and then again, no. I mean, trees are trees and houses are houses, aren’t they? But there are differences. Someday you’ll go and see.”

“Will you go with me?”

“I’m afraid not, Eric. It would be too hard for me to travel with these crutches.”

“Then I won’t go either. I’ll stay with you.”

His grandfather took one hand off the wheel and covered Eric’s hand with it. “You’ll go and see things. I want you to. And I’ll wait for you to come back. I’ll be here waiting.” He withdrew his hand. “I was going to surprise you, but I can’t keep a secret. Gran and I have a surprise for your birthday. It’s a present that you can’t have until the middle of the summer. Around the Fourth of July, I should think. Oh, don’t look disappointed! We’ve got other things for you that you’ll get at your birthday dinner tonight. But this big present that you have to wait for—can you guess what it is?”

Eric frowned. “No, I can’t. What is it?”

“Something you’ve been wanting very much. Something you’ve been asking for.”

A smile started somewhere in the back of Eric’s throat and then bubbled up to his eyes and lips. “A dog? A puppy? Is it, Gramp, a dog? Really?”

“Yes siree, a dog. And I mean a dog of dogs. A prince. A great big Labrador retriever like Dr. Shane’s.”

Eric bounced on the seat. “Oh, where is it? Where are you going to buy it? Can I see it now?”

“That’s one of the reasons I took you along. Mr. Thorgerson’s lady dog is going to have puppies any day now. The reason you have to wait is that it’ll be too tiny and young to take away from its mother for a while. But as soon as it can eat by itself out of a dish well come and get it.”

“Oh, Gramp, oh, Gramp, I want a boy dog! I want to name him George.”

“That’s settled then. George.”

A long lane led off the road between fences. The house was attached to the barn, making an “L” with the barns and sheds. Chickens scratched under the wet and scattered straw. Gramp stopped the car. A moment later Mr. Thorgerson, in rubber boots up to his hips, came around the corner.

“Seen you coming up the lane. Been fixing my pump and got myself soaked,” he said. “How you, Mr. Martin? How you, young man?”

“Fine, thank you, Mr. Thorgerson.”

“I’ve brought these papers for you to look over,” Gramp said. “You and your wife can think about them for a few days, and then if you’re sure this is what you want, then give me a call. I’ll have it drawn up properly and you can sign.”

“Good enough. Let me go into the house and wipe my hands ‘fore I dirty them up.” He leaned over and whispered something in Gramp’s ear.

“Is that so?” Gramp looked pleased. “Well, I’ll tell you, I wasn’t able to keep the secret. I told Eric on the way over so he knows all about it. What do you think, Eric! Lady had her puppies this morning, and if you’ll be very quiet and not disturb her Mr. Thorgerson will take you in and let you look.”

The mother lay with her puppies on a soft pile of blankets in a corner of the kitchen. Stretched in a panel of sunshine they made a black fur tangle like a rug. The puppies, not much larger than mice, Eric thought, mewed and wriggled one over the other.

“They’re just starting to get hungry,” Mrs. Thorgerson whispered. She stood looking over Eric’s shoulder. “She’s going to be a good mother, she’s so gentle. I’ve been working here in the kitchen all morning and she never minds a bit when I step near.”

“She knows you won’t hurt her puppies,” Eric said wisely.

“Which one do you want?” Mr. Thorgerson asked.

“I can’t tell. They all look alike.”

“He’s right, Oscar. You’ll have to come back in a couple of weeks when they’re a little older and then you’ll pick the one you want.”

I’ll put out my hand, Eric thought, that’s what I’ll do. And the one that crawls toward it, if he’s a boy, is the one I’ll take because I’ll know he likes me. And I’ll bring him home and he’ll sleep in a basket in my room, maybe even on my bed. And we’ll be friends and I’ll be so good to him. Maybe that one?

They all laughed. One of the puppies, all tiny, wet, blind things, but this one a bit stronger than the rest perhaps, rolled over and, with a piping squeal, shouldered another one out of its place at the mother’s nipple.