Man, woman, and child(23)

"I can't. Bob wanted to see the boy."

Margo was offended. This was an unconscionable breach of propriety. "God, men are pathetic. They really get off on the idea of boy children. I hope you put your foot down, Sheila. Him or you."

"That's precisely what I didn't want, Margo. If I made him choose, there'd always be a chance Fd lose him."

Margo eyed Sheila with mounting anxiety.

"What the hell did you do?"

She told Margo the rest of the story.

"Sheila, you are stark, raving mad."

"On the contrary, I'm stark, raving realistic. I have the girls to think about."

"But in your own home, Sheil. Where can it lead?"

"Look, we made a bargain. One month and the



boy goes back to France. There are some people trying to make arrangements for him. Better thirty days of suffering than a hfetime of uncertainty."

"But how the hell can you stand it?"

Sheila shrugged.

"I don't know. Sometimes I can't. Sometimes when we're sitting there at night pretending to listen to Bach and pretending to read and pretending that everything is the way it always was, I feel such rage that I could kill him—"

''Maybe you should," Margo interrupted sardonically.

"—and yet there are other times when I feel I need him more than ever. Strange, isn't it? Even after what he's done, he's still the only one who can really comfort me."

Margo looked at her and shook her head. "I can't understand you, Sheil."

"Neither can I," she replied. "But love and hate don't seem to cancel each other out. They can coexist and drive you mad."

Margo shook her head again and sighed.

"And do you really believe that it'll be all wrapped up neatly at the end of the month?"

"Yes. That was our agreement," said Sheila. But in her heart she feared that Margo might be right. She was no longer sure of anything.

"What do the girls think?"

"We didn't tell them who he was. They think he's cute."

"Is he?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you look at him?"

"As little as possible, frankly. And when I do, my only reaction is 'What did she look like?' Am I crazy, Margo?"

"No, darling," she answered, reaching across the



table and touching Sheila's hand affectionately. "You're the wisest woman I know. If Hal ever did that to me, the only thing I could do is go out and have an affair or shop. Or both. I'd never have the strength to face it the way you have. It's a gamble, but knowing you, you'll shame Bob into line with your generosity. Now, can I help?"

"How?"

"However you want. God knows you've seen me through enough crises. I'll come down—"

"No, it's bad enough I have to go back."

"Do you? Can't you stay a few days with Hal and me?"

She shook her head. "Margo, you're a friend. But Fve got to face it."

"God, I envy you," said Margo.

It was hardly the conclusion Sheila had expected.

"Why, for heaven's sake?" she asked.

"I wish I could love a man as much as you love Bob."

"Thanks, Margo. Thanks for understanding."



u

i HE SUN WAS SOFT AND WARM. GenTLE WAVES

nuzzled the shore of Cape Cod Bay. The httle boy was sitting by himself, one of Bob's baseball caps on his head, a book in his hands.

"Hi, Jean-Claude."

He looked up. It was Paula Beckwith. "Hello."

"Whatcha reading?" she asked, peering at his book.

''Histoire Generate—"woild history," he replied.

"Wowl You must be very intellectual."

"Not really." He smiled. "Would you like to sit down?"

Paula plopped onto the sand as she answered, "Sure." She quickly settled in for a friendly chat.

"What's new in history?" she asked.

"I am reading about Vercingetorix."

"What's that?"

"He was the first French hero. He led a revolt against Julius Caesar."

"I've heard about Julius Caesar, I think. What happened after that?"

"He ended badly. Caesar had him strangled."

"Ugh." Paula clutched her neck in empathy for



the valiant dead man. "Do they let you read that kind of stuff in France—gory, I mean?"

Jean-Claude shrugged.

''Are there pictures in that book?''

"Yes."

"Is there one of the strangling?"

"Uh-no. Vm sorry."

Paula pondered for a moment. "We take hygiene next year/' she said.

"What is that?"

"Do you know what 'sexual education' is?"

"I think so." He wasn't quite certain and didn't want to admit it.

"Do you have that course in France?"

"Fm not sure."