204
and Nancy were busy discussing books and failed to notice the heroics.
There is a touch of sadness at the close of summer, when the trees begin to hint it will soon end. And despite its tumultuous beginning, the summer was concluding with a certain harmony.
After the game, Bob and Bemie jogged around the track. Jean-Claude and Davey stayed on the field, practicing corner kicks. Sheila offered to drive Nancy and the girls home. Only Paula refused, seemingly determined to keep her father always within view.
"Too bad the kid*s gotta go,'' said Bemie as they chugged around the far curve. "He's got great potential."
"Yeah," said Bob.
"Too bad," repeated Bemie. "In seven years those two coulda made Yale invincible."
"Yeah," said Bob, thinking, Bem, you have the soul of a soccer ball.
Ten minutes later, Bemie summoned the two players with a shout.
"Come on, gang, it's time for chow."
They jogged side by side to the edge of the track.
"Can Johnny eat at our house?" Davey asked.
"May I?" Jean-Claude asked Bob.
"Sure."
"Can he sleep over too, Uncle Bob?"
"If it's okay with Nancy," said Bob.
"She won't mind," said Bernie. "Come on, guys. Let's hit the road."
Paula followed them, a step behind.
Dinner conversation seemed a bit subdued. "Gosh," said Paula, "it feels funny not having him here."
No one had removed the place mat set for Jean-Claude.
"Well, better start getting used to it/' said Jessie to her sister. ''He'll be gone for good soon. Won't he be, Dad?''
'Tes," said Bob quietly, "any day now." He said it as matter-of-factly as he could. He wanted Sheila to know he had no qualms.
The girls went to bed about nine-thirty. Bob went upstairs to kiss them good night. Jessica, even while accepting his embrace, let him know she was getting too old for this sort of thing.
When he came back downstairs, Sheila was putting on a sweater.
"Feel like a little walk?" she asked.
"Sure."
Bob got a flashlight and they went out to stroll beneath the trees. It was silent except for the sea behind the house. Peaceful. He felt close to her. He took her hand.
"Bob?"
"Yes?"
'Tou want him to stay, don't you?"
"Of course not," he said very quickly. "It's out of the question. We agreed—"
"That isn't what I asked. I wanted to know how you feel. Honestly."
They walked for a few steps before he answered.
"Well, I'm not overjoyed at his leaving. But hell, it's a fact of life. I mean"—he hoped this admission wouldn't hurt her—"I do like him a lot."
"We all do," she said softly.
"Yeah," he replied, thinking, This is her way of consoling me.
"I mean me too, Bob."
Tliey had reached a small clearing in the woods.
She stopped and looked at his face, with its forced stoic expression.
"He doesn't have to go. Bob/' she said.
Though they were standing very close, he wasn't certain he had actually heard her.
'Took," she continued, "something terrible happened to us. It will take years for the scars to really heal " ^
She paused.
"But it has nothing to do with him. Bob. Nothing. Besides, he's your child. Do you think you'd ever forget him if he went away?"
He hesitated.
"No. I guess not."
Then she continued his thoughts for him.
"There would always be a part of you that would be wondering how he was, what had become ot him "
"Yes," he said quietly.
"And he'd be thinking of you."
Bob was silent.
"He adores you. We can all see that."
Bob refused to let himself surrender to the impulse of the moment.
"Honey, the most important thing in my life is you and the girls."
"Yes," she answered. "Let's talk about them for a moment."
They sat down on an ancient tree trunk lying in the darkened forest.
"They're both in pretty fragile shape, I know," he said. "Especially Jessie with that whole not-caring act."
"And Paula?"
"She seems to be taking it better, for some reason."
"Bob, she's so obsessed with losing you she won't
let you out of her sight. Haven't you noticed that every morning, and I mean every morning, she peeks into our room and looks at your side of the bed. She's petrified/'
Bob took a deep breath. Now, retrospectively, he realized how desperately Paula had been clinging to him.
"But if he did stay . . . ?"
"Bob, we'd have a better chance if he were here instead of somewhere in the corner of everyone's imagination. I mean yours and mine—and especially the girls'. They'd always be afraid that you might go away."