Man, woman, and child(21)

Bob wondered what to say.

"You can still take lessons/'

"I don't want to now."

Life goes on, he stopped himself from saying. What an idiotic thing to tell a lonely child.

They sat in silence. Bob had drained his beer and wanted to get another. But he couldn't leave the boy alone.

"Did you know my father?''

Though he knew it had to come, it nonetheless sent shivers up his spine. What did the child know really? Had Nicole, had Louis ... ?

"Did you, Bob?"

He was still unsure how to answer.

"Uh—what did your mother tell you about him?"

He braced himself to hear the answer.

"That he was married to someone else." The boy lowered his head.

"And?" Bob's heart was hammering.

"That she loved him. And they loved each other and decided to have me. But of course he could not stay in France."

"Uh—did she ever tell you who he was?"

"No. But I have my own idea."

"What?"

"I think perhaps he was an Englishman."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if he was Italian, I think she would



have made me learn Italian. So I could someday talk to him."

Bob's next thought embarrassed him. For in the early hours of morning, his guard was lowered and he told himself, How logical he is: sort of like me. The boy continued wistfully.

"I always hoped that maybe when I was grown up, Maman would .. /'

".. . tell you all about him?"

"Yes. But now she's dead."

For the first time since he arrived, he had ex-phcitly refened to his mother's death. And his own words caused the child to burst into tears.

Silent, choking sobs that shook his little body.

Bob's heart was aching for the child. He longed to lift him up and take him in his arms.

At last he did.

The little boy responded instantly. He threw his arms around Bob's neck and clung to him.

"Mczmdn," he murmured, crying all the while.

^*I know," Bob answered softly, rocking him. "I know."

They held each other tightly, neither wanting to let go. Until their intimate embrace was interrupted.

"Bob?"

It was Sheila, standing sleepily on the first step.

To Bob, his wife's expression seemed to reflect betrayal.

Slowly, he let the boy slide onto his feet.

"Sheila—are you okay?"

She was slightly woozy from the pill.

"I woke up and you were gone," she said.

"I couldn't sleep. Jean-Claude was sitting here when I came down."

"Oh," she answered hoarsely.

"We'll all go to bed now," Bob said quickly.



"Thaf s all right/' she answered blankly. "I was just a little worried."

And she turned and walked back up the stairs. Bob's eyes followed her as she disappeared. For a moment he had forgotten the child. His vacillating emotions were now fixed on what his wife might be thinking and feeling.

Then something touched his hand. He looked down.

"Bob," the little boy said, '^I think I will go to bed now."

''Good. A good idea." Bob bent down and once again the child embraced him. He was too much in conflict to respond.



Oheila darling, what a lovely surprise. I thought you'd be stuck on the Cape for the whole bloody month."

''Thanks. You're the best thing that's happened to my ego this week."

"Lovey, ego-boosting is my middle name."

Well, not exactly. Sheila's former college classmate was now Margo Fulton Andrews Bedford van Nostrand. She was nursing a martini in the patio of Harvest, the new restaurant behind the Brattle Theater, where she had a daily noontime table.

"Is this mine?" asked Sheila, indicating the glass of tomato juice sitting before her.

"Yes. Your usual."

^*I think I'd like it spiked today," said Sheila.

"Good," said Margo, and signaled Perry. "Un-virgin this, please." He nodded and went off for a jigger of vodka.

"Well, how's Bob and the girls?"

"Fine. They all send their love," Sheila answered. In fact, she had told the children she had business at the Press. And had told Bob nothing. "How's Hal?"

"Hal is Hal, to paraphrase Gertrude Stein, and

77



he always will be. That's why I married him. No risk of surprises."

''And how's the gallery?"

''Obscene." Margo grinned. "I mean, it gets more successful every week. Hal is flabbergasted. He really thought it would just be a whim with me and I was too scatterbrained to be anything but a pretty face. Now he says I have a better business head than he does. Anyway, what brings you back to Cambridge? Isn't this your holiday?"

"Yes, but I had some things to take care of. Uh— shall we order before it gets impossibly crowded?"

"Darling, you know I always have their special. Saves small talk with Perry—who, you've probably noticed, has a teeny crush on me. I've ordered for you as well."