Man, woman, and child(54)

As they were driving home, all three of them squeezed in the front seat of the car, Paula asked, "How much longer will Jean-Claude be in the hospital?"

"Dr. Shelton thinks about another five days," said Sheila.

"What happens then?" she asked uneasily.

"Your mother and I think he should come home and stay with us till he's stronger," Bob said.

"Oh," said Paula. "Have you told Jessie?"



'Tes," said Bob. 'What did she say?" ^'Nothing/' Sheila answered.

Jean-Claude was pale and thin, but othenvise looked healthy. It was difficult to tell how he felt about the prospect of returning to the Beckwith house. For there, two weeks ago, the nightmare had begun for him. Bob wondered as he drove him if the boy was apprehensive about confronting Jessica and Paula.

Sheila met them at the door and kissed Jean-Claude. They went inside. The house seemed oddly empty.

"Where are the girls?'' Bob asked.

''They've been upstairs all morning,'' Sheila answered, glancing at Bob as if to say, I don't know what's going on. She turned to the boy again. He looked a little tired.

"Why don't you take a nap before lunch, Tean-Claude?" ^

"Okay."

He began slowly up the stairs and started to his room. When he opened the door he was stunned. Pele was staring straight at him. That is, a huge life-size poster of the great Brazilian soccer star.

"Do you like it?" asked Paula gaily, jumping, from her hiding place.

Before he could respond, Jessie added, "It's personally autographed to you."

He was incredulous. "To me?" He stepped closer and saw inscribed on the soccer ball Pele was kicking: 'To my pal Jean-Claude, Best Wishes, Pele."

"How did you obtain such a thing?" he asked, his eyes full of wonder.

"My friend's father happens to be his personal lawyer,". Jessie answered.



"It's fantastic," the boy exclaimed. "I can't wait to show it to my friend Maurice/'

The three children stood there for a moment. Then Paula said:

"We—uh—really missed you."

And Jessie added, "Welcome home/'



It was nearly the end of July when Jean-Claude arrived home from the hospital. Sheila was due to return to work on the first Monday in August. And Bob grew increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of having the whole brood on his hands alone. He said nothing to Sheila, but as usual, she did not need words to know what he was thinking.

"Why don't I ask Evelyn for another month's holiday? Even if she says no, she might at least let me drive to Cambridge once or twice a week and bring work back here."

He was touched by her offer. For he knew this might raise hackles at the ofBce.

*'But Evelyn's such a stickler. Do you think she'd put up with that kind of arrangement?"

''She'll just have to, Bob. I'll give her an ultimatum."

''Sheila, you're a tiger."

"No I'm not. I'll be quaking when I actually get in the room."

"Then I'll drive vou up and be your second."

"What about the kids?"

"We can get someone. Susie Ryder maybe. I'll take care of it. What do you say we go tomorrow?"

199



^'So soon?" she asked, affecting panic.

**I don't want you to get cold feet. Anyway, even if you do, ril be there to warm them at the last minute."

She smiled at him. He had been living for that look.

"Well?"

He had stood guard on the stone steps outside the Harvard Press, waiting for'her to emerge. When she did she was beaming.

"Well," he teased, "in what elevated language did she tell you to go to hell?"

"Fm an idiot, do you know that?" she stated cheerfully. "She said I should have asked her years ago.

"Haven't I always told you you were the best editor they had?"

"Yes, but I didn't believe you."

"Well, this ought to teach you to trust my judgment a little more. Now let's celebrate," he said, taking her hand. "What would you say to a candlelight dinner?"

"It's barely lunchtime."

"We can wait. And meanwhile we'll buy sandwiches and picnic with the college kids along the Charles."

"And what about our kids? We've got to get home by a reasonable hour."

"Tomorrow morning's soon enough," he said. "Susie can stay overnight."

She looked at him with a mischievous smile.

"How come you didn't tell me about this arrangement? Are there any other surprises in store?"

"You'll see," he answered. And he felt a surge of joy. Joy born of hope. She hadn't objected to any of his "arrangements." So far anyway.



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Almost by definition, Harvard Summer School consists of people not otherwise associated with Harvard. Hence as they walked along the riverbank, no one in Cambridge recognized them. They were alone in the summer crowd. They sat down on the grass, ate lunch and watched the many pleasure boats go by.