Man, woman, and child(57)

He reflected for a moment.

"Oh, Christ," he said. And thought, I've really put them in a no-win situation.

"There's one more thing," Sheila said gently.

"Yes?"

"You love him."

"Yes," he answered. And thought. Thank you, Sheila.

He broached it the next morning while Jean-Claude was still at Bernie's.

"Jessie and Paula, your mother and I were considering asking Jean-Claude to . . . stay on with us. We'd like to know what you two think."

"Is this true. Mom?" Jessie asked. "It isn't just his idea?"

"I suggested it," said Sheila. For the moment Jessie withheld comment. Bob turned to Paula.

"Gee," she said uneasily. "Would he be in my grade?"

"I suppose so," said Bob. "Tliey'd probably make him take a test. But how would you feel about it?"

Paula pondered for another moment. "We start



French this year," she said. "It would be neat to have Jean-Claude around to help."

Which was her way of saying yes.

"Jessie?" Bob inquired.

"I have no objection," she said tonelessly. And then added, "Actually, I like him quite a lot."

Bob looked across at Sheila. They smiled at one another.

Bob drove to Bemie's about noon. TTie smile on Jean-Claude's face suggested not only that he was happy to see Bob, but that he had heard more than enough of Bernie's pep talks on the future of world sport.. Bob asked the boy to take a walk with him along the beach.

"Summer's almost over," Bob said as they surveyed the empty shore.

"I know," the boy replied. "I must be leaving soon."

"That's just what I wanted to talk to you about, Jean-Claude," said Bob. "Uh—how would you feel about staying on with us?"

The boy stopped, a surprised look on his face.

"I mean sort of joining the family," Bob continued.

"That is impossible," said the boy.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking. But everyone is sorry for what happened. All of us want you to stay. Wouldn't you like that?"

Jean-Claude did not know how to answer. At last he spoke. Very shyly.

"Bob, I cannot. School—Zci rentree—starts in fifteen days."

"But you could go to school here, Jean-Claude. Besides, where would you live in France?"

"At St. Malo," the boy rephed.

"What's that?"



"A school. It is where my mother wanted me to go when I was eleven. To be with other boys. But Louis has been speaking to the director. He says I can start now if I pass certain examinations. And I have studied hard."

So that explains all his reading.

"But we want you to live with us/' said Bob. "We . . . love you."

The boy looked up at him.

"Bob, I must go to St. Malo. It is what my mother planned. And it is the right thing."

Bob looked down at his son. Did he understand what he was saying?

"Is that really what you want—to be alone?''

Please change your mind, Jean-Claude.

"Bob, I must go ... for many reasons."

"Are you positive, Jean-Claude?"

The boy seemed at the limit of his strength.

"Yes," he said softly, and turned his gaze away. Toward the sea.



i HERE WAS NOTHING MORE TO SAY, REALLY. BOB

booked a flight for three days later. The leave-taking was subdued. Sheila and the girls stood on the porch and watched the car go off. No one cried. Yet each had the vague sensation that the others would, eventually.

Bob wanted the ride to Logan to last forever. There was so much he wanted to tell the boy. To clarify his feelings. Establish their relationship. Express his love. And yet they barely spoke during the journey.

He parked the car and took the green valise out of the trunk. Jean-Claude carried his red flight bag and they walked to TWA, where the boy was checked in for flight 810 and the suitcase sent via Paris on to Montpellier. Bob walked him to the gate. It was only six-thirty. They still had some time. The sky outside was not yet dark, although the airport lights were beginning to come on, anticipating nightfall.

The big white 747 was crouched like a friendly elephant, waiting to take on passengers. Since it

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was the end of summer, not many people'were flying to Europe. The departure lounge was quiet. Now and then a flight was called. Not his. Not yet. The woman calling flights had no emotion in her voice.

They sat side by side in white plastic chairs.

''Do you have enough to read, Jean-Claude?"

'*I have my books."

*'Oh, yes, of course. Good luck on the exams. Uh —are you nervous?"

"A little."

"You'll be sure and let me know how it turns out?"

"Yes."

"And we'll stay in touch. . . ." . The boy hesitated slightly, then said, "Yes."