When the morning sunlight began pouring through the window, we woke in each other’s arms and made love one more time before pulling apart and getting ready for the long day ahead.
After breakfast, we went through the house, getting it ready for the wedding on Saturday. The candles on the tables were replaced, the table on the porch was cleaned of its settings and stored in the barn, and with a bit of disappointment, the dinner I’d prepared was tossed into the garbage. When we were satisfied with everything, we headed back home. Leslie was supposed to arrive around four; Joseph had been able to book an earlier flight and would be coming in around five. On the answering machine, there was a message from Anna, saying that she was going to go over the last minute preparations with Keith, which—other than making sure her dress was ready—mainly entailed1 checking to see that no one we’d hired had canceled at the last minute. She also promised to pick up Jane’s dress and bring it with her when she came by with Keith for dinner later that night.
In the kitchen, Jane and I threw the makings of a beef stew2 into the Crock-Pot, where it would slow-cook the rest of the afternoon. As we worked, we discussed the logistical arrangements for the wedding, but every now and then, Jane’s secret smile told me she was remembering the night before. Knowing it would only get busier as the day wore on, we drove downtown for a quiet lunch together. We grabbed a couple of sandwiches from the Pollock Street Deli and strolled to the Episcopal church, where we ate in the shade of the magnolia trees that covered the grounds.
After lunch, we walked hand in hand to Union Point, where we gazed out over the Neuse River. The swells3 were mild and the water was crowded with boats of all types as kids enjoyed the last days of summer before heading back to school. For the first time in a week, Jane seemed completely relaxed, and as I put my arm around her, it felt strangely as if we were a couple just starting out in the world. It was the most perfect day we’d spent together in years, and I reveled in the feeling until we returned home and listened to the message on the answering machine.
It was Kate, calling about Noah.
“You’d better get down here,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”
Kate was standing4 in the corridor when we arrived at Creekside. “He won’t talk about it,” she said anxiously. “Right now, he’s just staring out at the pond. He even snapped at me when I tried to talk to him, saying that since I didn’t believe in it anyway, I wouldn’t understand. He kept insisting that he wanted to be alone, and he finally shooed me away.” “But physically5, he’s okay?” Jane asked.
“I think so. He refused to eat his lunch—even seemed angry about it—but other than that, he seems fine. But he’s really upset. The last time I peeked6 in his room, he actually shouted at me to go away.”
I glanced at the closed door. In all our years, I’d never heard Noah raise his voice.
Kate twisted her silk scarf nervously7. “He wouldn’t talk to Jeff or David—they just left a few minutes ago. I think they were a little hurt by the way he was acting8.”
“And he doesn’t want to talk to me, either?” Jane asked. “No,” Kate answered. She gave a helpless shrug9. “Like I said on the message, I’m not sure that he’ll talk to anyone. The only one I think he might talk to is you.” She looked at me skeptically.
I nodded. Though I worried that Jane would be upset—as she had been when Noah had asked to see me in the hospital—she gave my hand a squeeze of support and looked up at me.
“I guess you’d better see how he’s doing.”
“I suppose so.”
“I’ll wait out here with Kate. See if you can get him to eat something.”
“I will.”
I found Noah’s door, knocked twice, and pushed it partly open.
“Noah? It’s me, Wilson. May I come in?”
In his chair by the window, Noah made no response. I waited a moment before stepping into his room. On the bed, I saw the uneaten tray of food, and after closing the door, I brought my hands together.
“Kate and Jane thought you might want to talk to me.” I saw his shoulders rise as he drew a long breath, then fall again. With his white hair spilling over the top of his sweater, he looked diminutive10 in the rocker.
“Are they out there now?”
His voice was so soft that I barely heard it.
“Yes.”
Noah said nothing more. In the silence, I crossed the room and sat on the bed. I could see the lines of strain on his face, though he refused to look at me. “I’d like to hear what happened,” I said tentatively.
He dropped his chin before his gaze rose again. He stared out the window.
“She’s gone,” he said. “When I went out this morning, she wasn’t there.”
I knew immediately whom he was referring to.
“She might have been in another part of the pond. Maybe she didn’t know you were there,” I suggested.
“She’s gone,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “I knew it as soon as I woke up. Don’t ask me how, but I knew. I could sense that she was gone, and when I started toward the pond, the feeling just got stronger and stronger. I didn’t want to believe it, though, and I tried calling for her for an hour. But she never showed.” Wincing11, he straightened in the chair, continuing to stare through the window. “Finally, I just gave up.”
Beyond the window, the pond was glistening12 in the sun. “Do you want to go back and check to see if she’s there now?”
“She isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do,” he said. “The same way I knew she was gone this morning.” I opened my mouth to respond, then thought better of it. There was no use in arguing the point. Noah had already made up his mind. Besides, something inside me was sure that he was right.
“She’ll come back,” I said, trying to sound convincing.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe not. I can’t tell one way or the other.”
“She’ll miss you too much to stay away.”
“Then why did she leave in the first place?” he demanded. “It doesn’t make any sense!”
He slapped his good hand on the arm of the chair before shaking his head.
“I wish they could understand.”
“Who?”
“My kids. The nurses. Even Dr. Barnwell.”
“You mean about Allie being the swan?”
For the first time, he looked my way. “No. About me being Noah. About me being the same man I’ve always been.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant but knew enough to stay silent while I waited for him to explain.
“You should have seen them today. All of them. So what if I didn’t want to talk to them about it? No one believes me anyway, and I didn’t feel like trying to convince them that I know what I’m talking about. They just would have argued with me about it like they always do. And then, when I didn’t eat my lunch? Well, you would have thought that I’d tried to jump out the window. I’m upset, and I have every right to be upset. When I get upset, I don’t eat. I’ve been that way my whole life, but now, they act like my mental abilities have slipped another notch13. Kate was in here trying to spoon-feed me and pretending nothing happened. Can you believe that? And then Jeff and David showed up, and they explained it away by saying that she probably went off to forage14, completely ignoring the fact that I feed her twice a day. None of them seems to care what might have happened to her.”
As I struggled to understand what was going on, I suddenly realized that there was more to Noah’s sudden rage than the way his children had reacted. “What’s really bothering you?” I asked gently. “That they acted as if it were just a swan?” I paused. “That’s what they’ve always believed, and you know that. You’ve never let it get to you before.”
“They don’t care.”
“If anything,” I countered, “they care too much.”
He turned away stubbornly.
“I just don’t understand it,” he said again. “Why would she leave?” With that, it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t angry with his kids. Nor was he simply reacting to the fact that the swan had vanished. No, it was something deeper, something I wasn’t sure he would admit even to himself. Instead of pressing it, I said nothing, and we sat together in silence. As I waited, I watched his hand fidget in his lap.
“How did it go with Jane last night?” he asked after a moment, apropos15 of nothing.
At his words—and despite all that we’d been discussing—I flashed on an image of him dancing with Allie in the kitchen.
“Better than I’d imagined it would,” I said.
“And she liked the album?”
“She loved it.”
“Good,” he said. For the first time since I’d come in, he smiled, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
“I’m sure she wants to talk to you,” I said. “And Kate’s still out there, too.”
“I know,” he said, looking defeated. “They can come in.”
“You sure?”
When he nodded, I reached over and put a hand on his knee. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to tell them not to talk about the swan?”
He considered my words briefly16 before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Do I have to tell you to go easy on them?”
He gave me a long-suffering look. “I’m not much in the mood for teasing, but I promise that I won’t yell again. And don’t you worry—I’m not going to do anything to upset Jane. I don’t want her worrying about me when she should be thinking about tomorrow.”
I rose from the bed and rested a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave. Noah, I knew, was angry with himself. He’d spent the last four years believing that the swan was Allie—he’d needed to believe that she would find a way to come back to him—but the swan’s inexplicable17 disappearance18 had shaken his faith profoundly.
As I left his room, I could almost hear him asking, What if the kids had been right all along?
In the hallway, I kept this information to myself. I did suggest, however, that it might be best if they simply let Noah do most of the talking and react as naturally as possible.
Both Kate and Jane nodded, and Jane led the way back inside. Noah looked toward us. Jane and Kate stopped, waiting to be invited in farther, not knowing what to expect.
“Hi, Daddy,” Jane said.
He forced a smile. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Are you doing okay?”
He glanced at Jane and me, then at the tray of food that had grown cold on the bed. “I’m getting a little hungry, but other than that, I’m fine. Kate—would you mind . . .”
“Sure, Daddy,” Kate said, stepping forward. “I’ll get you something. How about some soup? Or a ham sandwich?”
“A sandwich sounds good.” He nodded. “And maybe a glass of sweet tea.” “I’ll run down and get it for you,” Kate said. “Do you want a piece of chocolate cake, too? I heard they made it fresh today.”
“Sure,” he said. “Thank you. Oh—and I’m sorry about how I acted earlier. I was upset and had no reason to take it out on you.”
Kate smiled briefly. “It’s okay, Daddy.”
Kate shot me a relieved look, though her concern was still obvious. As soon as she’d left the room, Noah motioned toward the bed. “C’mon in,” he said, his voice quiet. “Make yourselves comfortable.” As I crossed the room, I watched Noah, wondering what was going on. Somehow, I suspected that he’d asked Kate to leave because he wanted to talk to Jane and me alone.
Jane sat on the bed. As I joined her, she took my hand. “I’m sorry about the swan, Daddy,” she offered.
“Thank you,” he said. By his expression, I knew he would say nothing more about it. “Wilson’s been telling me about the house,” he said instead. “I hear it’s really something.”
Jane’s expression softened19. “It’s like a fairy tale, Daddy. It’s even prettier than it was for Kate’s wedding.” She paused. “We were thinking that Wilson could swing by and pick you up around five. I know it’s early, but it’ll give you a chance to spend some time at the house. You haven’t been there in a while.” “That’s fine,” he agreed. “It’ll be good to see the old place again.” He looked from Jane to me, then back to Jane again. He seemed to notice for the first time that we were holding hands, and he smiled.
“I have something for you both,” he said. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to give it to you before Kate gets back. She might not understand.” “What is it?” Jane asked.
“Help me up, would you?” he asked. “It’s in my desk, and it’s hard for me to get up after I’ve been sitting for a while.”
I rose and reached for his arm. He stood and gingerly crossed the room. After opening his drawer, he removed a wrapped gift, then returned to his chair. The walk seemed to have tired him, and he winced20 as he sat again. “I had one of the nurses wrap it yesterday,” he said, holding it out to us. It was small and rectangular, draped in red foil, but even as he presented it, I knew what was inside. Jane, too, seemed to know, for neither of us reached for it.
“Please,” he said.
Jane hesitated before finally accepting it. She ran her hand over the paper, then looked up.
“But . . . Daddy . . . ,” she said.
“Open it,” he urged.
Jane popped the tape and folded back the paper; without a box, the worn book was immediately recognizable. So was the small bullet hole in the upper right corner, a bullet that had been meant for him in World War II. It was Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, the book I’d brought to him in the hospital, the book that I could never imagine him without.
“Happy anniversary,” he said.
Jane held the book as if she were afraid it would break. She glanced at me, then back to her father. “We can’t take this,” she said, her voice soft, sounding as choked up as I felt.
“Yes, you can,” he said.
“But . . . why?”
He gazed at us. “Did you know I read it every day while I was waiting for your mom? After she left that summer when we were kids? In a way, it was like I was reading the poetry to her. And then, after we were married, we used to read it on the porch, just the way I imagined we would. We must have read every poem a thousand times over the years. There would be times when I’d be reading, and I’d look over and see your mom’s lips moving right along with mine. She got to the point where she could recite all the poems by heart.” He stared out the window, and I suddenly knew he was thinking of the swan again. “I can’t read the pages anymore,” Noah went on. “I just can’t make out the words, but it troubles me to think that no one will ever read it again. I don’t want it to be a relic21, something that just sits on the shelf as some sort of memento22 to Allie and me. I know you’re not as fond of Whitman as I am, but of all my kids, you’re the only two who read it from cover to cover. And who knows, you might just read him again.”
Jane glanced down at the book. “I will,” she promised.
“So will I,” I added.
“I know,” he said, looking at each of us in turn. “That’s why I wanted you both to have it.”
After eating lunch, Noah looked as if he needed rest, so Jane and I went back home.
Anna and Keith arrived in midafternoon, Leslie pulled up in the driveway a few minutes later, and we all stood around in the kitchen together, chatting and joking, just like old times. While we mentioned the news about the swan, we didn’t linger on the topic. Instead, with the weekend calling, we piled into two cars and headed out to Noah’s house. Like Jane the night before, Anna, Keith, and Leslie were amazed. They spent an hour touring the garden and the house with their mouths agape, and as I stood near the stairs in the living room, Jane moved close and stood next to me, beaming. She caught my eye, nodded toward the stairs, and winked23. I laughed. When Leslie asked what was so funny, Jane played innocent.
“Just something between your father and me. Private joke.” On our way home, I swung by the airport and picked up Joseph. He greeted me with his usual, “Hey, Pop,” then—despite all that was going on—added only, “You’ve lost weight.” After grabbing his luggage, he rode with me to Creekside to pick up Noah. As always, Joseph was reticent24 in my presence, but as soon as he saw Noah, he brightened considerably25. Noah, too, was pleased to see that Joseph had come along. They sat in the backseat chatting, both of them growing more animated26 as we made our way back home, where they were enveloped27 with hugs the moment they walked in the door. Soon, Noah was seated on the couch with Leslie on one side and Joseph on the other, sharing stories back and forth28, while Anna and Jane chatted in the kitchen. The sounds of the house were suddenly familiar again, and I found myself thinking that this was the way it should always be. Dinner was punctuated29 with laughter as Anna and Jane recounted the details of the mad rush of the week, and as the evening wound down, Anna surprised me by tapping her glass with a fork.
When the table grew silent, this is what she said:
“I’d like to make a toast to Mom and Dad,” she said, raising her glass. “Without you two, none of this would have been possible. This is going to be the most wonderful wedding anyone could ever want.”
When Noah tired, I drove him back to Creekside. The corridors were empty as I walked him to his room.
“Thank you again for the book,” I said, pausing at the door. “That’s the most special gift you could have given us.”
His eyes, going gray with cataracts30, seemed to see through me. “You’re welcome.”
I cleared my throat. “Maybe she’ll be there in the morning,” I offered.
He nodded, knowing I meant well.
“Maybe,” he said.
Joseph, Leslie, and Anna were still sitting around the table when I got home. Keith had gone home a few minutes earlier. When I asked about Jane, they gestured in the direction of the deck. Sliding open the glass door, I saw Jane leaning against the rail, and I moved to join her. For a long moment, we stood together enjoying the fresh summer air, neither of us saying anything. “Was he okay when you dropped him off?” Jane finally asked.
“As good as can be expected. He was tired by the end, though.”
“Do you think he enjoyed tonight?”
“Without a doubt,” I said. “He loves spending time with the kids.” She gazed through the door at the scene in the dining room: Leslie was motioning with her hands, obviously caught up in a humorous story, and both Anna and Joseph were doubled over with laughter, their hilarity31 audible even outside. “Seeing them like this brings back memories,” she said. “I wish Joseph didn’t live so far away. I know the girls miss him. They’ve been laughing like that for almost an hour now.”
“Why aren’t you sitting at the table with them?”
“I was until just a couple of minutes ago. When I saw your headlights, I snuck outside.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to be alone with you,” she said, nudging me playfully. “I wanted to give you your anniversary gift, and like you said, tomorrow might be a little busy.” She slid a card toward me. “I know it looks small, but it wasn’t the sort of gift that I could wrap. You’ll understand when you see what it is.” Curious, I opened the card and found the certificate inside.
“Cooking lessons?” I asked with a smile.
“In Charleston,” she said, leaning close to me. Pointing to the certificate, she went on. “The classes are supposed to be top-notch. See? You spend a weekend at the Mondori Inn with their chef, and he’s supposed to be one of the best in the country. I know you’re doing great on your own, but I thought you might have fun trying your hand at learning some new things. Supposedly, they teach you how to use a carving32 knife, how to know when the pan is properly heated for sautéeing, even how to garnish33 the dishes you serve. You know Helen, right? From the choir34 at church? She said it was one of the best weekends she ever spent.” I offered a quick hug. “Thank you,” I said. “When is it?” “The classes are in September and October—both the first and third weekends of each month—so you can see how your schedule’s shaping up before you decide. Then, all you have to do is call.”
I examined the certificate, trying to imagine what the classes would be like. Worried by my silence, Jane said tentatively, “If you don’t like it, I can get you something else.”
“No, it’s perfect,” I reassured35 her. Then, frowning, I added, “There’s just one thing, though.”
“Yes?”
I slipped my arms around her. “I’d enjoy the classes more if we could take them together. Let’s make a romantic weekend out of it. Charleston’s beautiful at that time of year, and we could have a great time in the city.” “Do you mean it?” she asked.
Pulling her close, I stared into her eyes. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. I’d miss you too much to be able to enjoy it.”
“Absence might make the heart grow fonder,” she teased. “I don’t think that’s possible,” I said, growing more serious. “You have no idea how much I love you.”
“Oh, but I do,” she said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the kids watching us as I bent36 to kiss her, feeling her lips as they lingered against my own. In the past, it might have made me self-conscious. Now, however, it didn’t matter at all.
收听单词发音 |
1
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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peeked
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| v.很快地看( peek的过去式和过去分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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memento
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| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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cataracts
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| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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garnish
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| n.装饰，添饰，配菜 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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