A possible cover shot for an upcoming installment of The Hawk. This was the view at our second residence while living in England.

Sometimes, well into writing a manuscript, I realize the true purpose for said story. Occasionally it's not at all related to why I began telling that tale; The Enran Chronicles qualifies, as do drafts I'll never publish, yet just as vital to me are those yarns spun for reasons only I needed to grasp.

When I started writing The Hawk, I thought it was going to be a short story. Laughing Out Loud! As it became something far more encompassing, I accepted it was a way to work through massive personal issues; becoming a grandmother as my father died, finding my role as a woman no longer that young, etc, etc, etc. But well into a third of the saga emerged previously unplanned characters and story lines which are some of the most meaningful I have been blessed to translate from my heart onto a virtual page. The scene that follows is but one example, as Sam Ahern learns why a Polish pastor matters greatly not merely to help Sam's wife Renee heal from depression, but in manners beyond what Sam could dream.

OnTuesday, Laurie called Eric, passing along the news. Eric rang Sam, then Samcalled Frannie. Fran expressed her dismay, asking Sam if this would affectJane’s party later that week. Sam said that no, the party was still on. Andthat if Fran wanted to bring deviled eggs, Lynne would appreciate it.

Samhad added that caveat, for Fran had been pestering him about what she couldtake on Saturday, and it was easier for Sam to sort that issue than callingback Eric, who would have to question Lynne. Sam didn’t want Lynne frettingabout anything in addition to her usual concerns, which now included the Taylorfamily. But from what Sam knew about those folks, the passing of theirmatriarch wasn’t the worst they had suffered.

Nowthey could mourn her properly, not how they had been living with her ghost forthe better part of a decade. What Sam knew about them he’d gleaned from Eric,and from Laurie. Sam didn’t know anything from Stanford; that man acted likeother than his father, he had no relatives. Or rather, his relatives were allon the West Coast, well, the Snyders. Sam didn’t lump himself and Renee in thattiny clique, though he felt differently about Laurie. Sam truly liked LaurieAbrams and now felt quite ashamed when he considered his poor reaction to themen’s relationship this time last year. It wasn’t any of Sam’s business for onething, and Renee had been right when she noted that Sam hadn’t seemed botheredby the rumors concerning his wife and Lynne. Yet, all that nonsense seemed likesomeone else’s life, for neither woman worked at the hospital. Lynne was amother and Renee was…. She was speaking with Pastor Jaworski at that moment, orSam hoped she was. And when she came home, after she shared whatever she feltwas necessary, Sam would tell her about Stanford’s mother. They would discussthat during supper; Renee would probably want to send a sympathy card toMichael, but Sam wasn’t sure if she would get one for Stanford. He’d leave thatup to her.

Otherthan waiting for Renee, there wasn’t much for Sam to do. That night’s meal wasleftovers and now that he had spoken to Frannie, there wasn’t anyone else whoneeded to know about Constance Taylor, other than Renee. Maybe Eric had calledPastor Jaworski, perhaps right after he informed Sam. Sam had spent that day athome, for Renee had needed the car for her appointment. Tomorrow Sam woulddrive her to work and he’d do the same on Friday. But on Thursday she would seethe pastor again and Sam sighed. They needed another vehicle, which might seemostentatious to their neighbors. Yet Renee worked full time and they had themoney. Sam didn’t want to flaunt their good fortune, but it was what it was.Maybe Eric and Lynne were happy with one car, but the Aherns were different.

BrieflySam winced, then his stomach growled. He went into the kitchen, retrieving afew saltines from the cupboard. Normally he and Renee ate at a little pastfive; truthfully, he had supper waiting as soon as she stepped through thedoor. That night all he had to do was heat up spaghetti and cut a few slices ofbread. Then Sam smiled. Why had he been so averse to Laurie and Stanford whenhis role wasn’t the norm?

Forall intents and purposes, Sam was the housewife, Renee the breadwinner. She didthe ironing, a task Sam loathed, but he tackled all the other chores, mostlybecause Renee had little time to dust, mop, and vacuum. Their household wasmore akin to Laurie and Stanford’s than the Snyders or Canfields. And it wasn’tmerely childlessness that set the Aherns apart, Sam allowed.

Samwondered if Renee was speaking about this with Marek. Then Sam pondered ifRenee had gone to meet with the pastor. Last week she nearly hadn’t, whichhadn’t surprised Sam, yet he’d been dismayed to hear about Mrs. Harmon’stirade. Renee had made clear that woman’s disdain for Marek, which Reneebelieved was based solely upon Marek’s nationality. That had bothered Sam, butpeople were prejudiced, and he’d been no better than Mrs. Harmon a year ago,learning about those New Yorkers. Until then, Sam had thought he was a fairlyaccepting person; he’d witnessed plenty of bigots in the army and had alwaysthought himself above those hypocrites. But no one was free of assuming biases,it was human nature. How many people laughed behind his and Renee’s backs,plenty Sam was certain. They might take Sam’s time overseas into account, ifthey knew. And if they knew that, they also might understand the Aherns’childless home. However, they would probably think it odd a Catholic couplehadn’t sought out other means to make a family. Then Sam sighed. No one trulyunderstood a person until they had walked in that man’s shoes.

Fifteenminutes later, spaghetti simmered on the stove, the table was set, breadsliced. Butter waited on the counter alongside the parmesan cheese; Sam wouldplace those items between his and Renee’s plates when he heard the front doorrattle. His stomach still rumbled, but he’d been busy that day, not onlyspeaking on the telephone, but fixing custard and cleaning house. He glanced atthe clock; it was almost six, Renee would be home any moment. They would eat,then he’d tell her about Stanford’s mother. Depending on her reaction, maybethey would cuddle on the sofa. They hadn’t made love since…. He sighed, it hadbeen a good number of weeks. She’d been so upset and he felt guilty. If hehadn’t been so afraid, their home life would be more like everyone else’s. Butnow Sam wasn’t sure if Renee would change her mind. He didn’t expect her toaccompany him to Jane’s party on Saturday, although he wasn’t looking forwardto going alone. He wouldn’t have to make an excuse, well, only to the kids.Fran and Louie knew, or Sam assumed they were smart enough to get the gist.Marek obviously needed no explanation and those were the only invited guests.Suddenly Sam was glad for the New Yorkers’ absences. The reason wasunfortunate, but at least he wouldn’t have to lie to them.

AsRenee opened the front door, Sam put the butter and cheese on the table. Thenhe cleared his throat, walking into the living room. “Hey honey, how was yourday?”

Samglanced in his wife’s direction, not finding tears on her face, nor were hereyes red. But she didn’t look calm and he took her coat and purse, placing themon the nearest chair. “Renee, you okay?”

Shenodded hesitantly. “I’m hungry. Time to eat?”

“Itsure is.” Sam smiled, then led her into the kitchen. She sat at the table whilehe spooned pasta and sauce onto her plate, setting it in front of her. Then hedished up his own portion and sat beside her in their usual seats. He had a fewbites, glancing at her in between them. Renee ate with gusto, which pleasedSam. But she still looked troubled.

Itwas her eyes, for she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She seemed turned away from him,but Sam didn’t pepper her with questions. He had much to tell her when she wasfinished.

Itdidn’t take them long to clear their plates. Renee even had seconds, which ledSam to having a bit more. Which also was a relief, for her appetite had beenslight, even after talking to Marek last week. Then she inquired about dessert,to which Sam smiled. “Made some custard today. No pie to go with it, but….”

Hewanted to slap himself, but Renee seemed to take no offense. “Pie always goeswell with custard,” she smiled. Then her grin faded. “Sam, there’s something Ineed to tell you.”

Henodded, wondering if maybe Marek had shared the news about Stanford’s mother.“Well, there’s something I need to tell you too.”

“What?”she asked.

Hesighed. “Laurie called Eric today. Stanford’s mom passed away last night.”

“Ohno, really?”

Samnodded, then embraced her. “Yeah, but it sounds like she went peacefully. Theywere all there, well, all but one of Stanford’s brother-in-law’s. I don’t knowwhen the funeral’s gonna be, but if you wanna send a card….”

Reneepulled away. “Oh, I will. Um, to Michael.” Then she gazed at Sam. “Do you thinkI should send one to Stanford and Laurie too?”

Samcouldn’t hide his small grin. “Well, I was wondering the same. Was gonna leaveit up to you.”

Shenodded thoughtfully. “Hmmm, I probably should. At least for, well….” Now Reneewore a little smile. “For Laurie, but that sounds horrible. For both of them.”

“Yeah,I agree.” Sam took a deep breath. Those men were as committed to each other asSam was to his wife. And they’d been together longer, since 1946, whereas Samdidn’t meet Renee until 1947. For over fifteen years Stanford and Laurie hadbeen…. Sam flinched; there was no proper word, for they weren’t married and anyother term was more than Sam could ponder. Yet, the essence of that duo’srelationship was identical to what Sam shared with Renee and what Eric had withLynne. “Eric said that Laurie sounded okay, but then it was Stanford’s mom.”

“They’reprobably relieved it’s over, or that part of it’s over.” Renee grasped Sam’s hands.“Sometimes death’s not as awful as people think.”

Samnodded, but he wasn’t as certain as his wife. All the deaths Sam had witnessedwere without purpose, and that included Frannie’s babies. But Sam didn’t dwellon that. Renee hadn’t known about Stanford’s mother, she had something else totell him. “So, what were you gonna say?” he asked gently.

Reneegazed at him, but her eyes were odd, not the hue, still that gray-white whichwould always make Sam weak in the knees. Since 1947, he’d been in love withthis woman; he had been twenty, she was nineteen. They had been each other’sfirst and God willing would be each other’s only. Children weren’t meant to bepart of it and Sam inhaled that notion with more calm than ever in his life.Some couples didn’t procreate, whether it was due to injury or biology. But Samwouldn’t hesitate to bet that for as much as he loved Renee, Laurie lovedStanford. And Stanford loved his…. Better half, Sam decided, then smiled.Sometimes he called Renee his better half, so of course Stanford could beLaurie’s better half, or rather his other half. Of the New Yorkers, Sam feltLaurie was the nicer person.

“Renee,you can tell me anything.” Now Sam gripped her hands, which trembled. “Honey, Ilove you. Unless it’s something you think needs to stay between you and thepastor.” Sam said that with some hesitancy. No other man had ever come betweenhimself and Renee. But therapy was to help Renee; Sam had no problem using thatword in connection with Pastor Jaworski. Renee needed therapy just like thevets did.

Noone could gauge a person’s need for mental health care other than a qualifieddoctor or someone equally trained in such a field. And after all these years,Sam permitted he was that capable. Yet it hurt, realizing his wife was in needof assistance he couldn’t provide, but better for her to seek help than end upa wreck. Pastor Jaworski wasn’t a psychiatrist; he wasn’t even a certifiedtherapist. But he was a man of faith and he’d seen how many atrocities. That wasSam’s criteria and Marek filled in all the blanks. He was a Christian, he knewloss firsthand, and Sam trusted him. That was solely a gut reaction, but Samhad deep faith in his gut. Whatever Renee needed to tell him, Sam wouldn’t turnaway.

Hestroked her face, then kissed her cheek. She nodded, then motioned for them toleave the kitchen. Sam helped her to stand, then led her to the sofa. They satand she snuggled beside him. He would have encouraged her attentions, but wascurious about what was on her mind. “Renee, I love you. Whenever you wanna tellme is fine.”

Hewouldn’t pressure her, but didn’t want her to think he’d forgotten. Although,as she continued to cuddle, maybe this would take precedence. Sam would letRenee dictate their pace. If they happened to make love first….

Ithad been so long and Sam was ready. He kissed her and she responded and forseveral minutes they necked, which stirred such longing within Sam that if shedidn’t tell him now, she’d just have to wait. He pulled away, catching hisbreath, then he smiled. “You wanna go to bed?”

Shegiggled, then spoke. “I love you so much. I don’t tell you that enough, but Ireally, really love you.”

“Ilove you too baby.” But he knew that wasn’t what she wanted to tell him.

Reneenodded, then she sighed. As she did, Sam’s libido plummeted, which didn’tsurprise him. That happened occasionally, but depending on what she had to say,maybe it wouldn’t take much to revive it. Sam stroked her face, then tracedaround her exceptional eyes. Then he kissed her cheeks, near those eyes. Herskin was so soft, her heart was too. She could be as crusty as Stanford Taylor,at times. But underneath was a tender, precious woman that Sam would die for.He would do anything to keep Renee safe and make her happy.

Thelatter had only been true for the last few months. Sam swallowed thatunpleasant fact, then grasped her hands, offering a quick squeeze. “Baby, whatis it?”

“Marekknows. He knows about Eric.”

Fora few seconds, Sam had no idea what Renee meant; was something wrong with Eric?Sam stared at his wife, trying to ascertain what Eric could be keeping fromhim. Then the full meaning of Renee’s statement pummeled Sam like bricksfalling from the sky, hard lumps that seemed impossible to believe, yet they fellin the same manner in which Eric landed when he was changing from a bird backinto a man. “He knows,” Sam mumbled. Then he shook his head. “Are you serious?How could he know?”

Erichadn’t altered form in over a year. Sam was glad for it, but occasionally hewondered how hard the next transformation might be, and for how long it wouldlast. Seth seemed all right and Sam used that man’s health as a yardstick.Eric’s father was dead and while so was Stanford’s mother, Sam had no concernthat Eric’s dealer would need that kind of care. Renee was seeing Marek, no usefor Eric to change form for her either. How in the world would Marek knowunless….

UnlessEric had told him. Sam stumbled over that; why would Marek need to know? OnlySam and Renee knew and jealousy reared within Sam. It took him a moment toquell that unpleasant feeling, then several deep breaths followed. If Eric feltit necessary to reveal that detail, Sam had to respect that decision just likehe’d had to accept Laurie and Stanford being together. This didn’t have a thingto do with Sam; this was about Eric and his pastor and…. “So, how’d this comeup, I mean….” Sam inhaled again, letting it out as slowly as possible. “Did hejust say it or….”

Reneeshook her head. “No, though he did a lot of the talking. I wonder if that’snormal, I mean, when you’re at work, the vets do the talking, right?”

Samnodded. “Sometimes I don’t say anything.”

“Yeahwell, I don’t know if Polish therapists are that way.” She grinned briefly,which again made Sam wary. Then her mirth slipped away. “He asked me about theblue barn, if I missed it. I said yeah I did, but I knew others were enjoyingit.” Renee took a deep breath, exhaling quickly. “He asked what I saw in it, orrather, he asked if he could ask. He’s so polite, you know. I told him I sawfarm animals, pigs and chickens, and then, oh Sam, every time I think aboutthat barn, I end up seeing poultry inside it, which now, well, it’s not a bigdeal anymore. But I must’ve frowned or something, because as soon as I said chickens, Marek stared at me. And Icouldn’t look away from him. I know he’s just a minister, but he might as wellbe a priest. I never can look away from either Father Markham or Father Riley.I think Father Markham’s harder to ignore, maybe because he’s younger or….”

“Renee,how does he know?”

“Oh,well, he asked about poultry, was that due to all your cooking or was thereanother connotation. He’s so well spoken, I mean, his English is so good. Connotation he said, and I, well, he isjust like a priest, and I couldn’t lie, I mean, I said it was due to all thehawks Eric had painted. Which is close, I mean, I assumed he’d think it was thetruth. Sam, when you’re done with confession, do you feel like Father Markhamknows when you’ve left something out?”

Samnodded absently, then shook himself. “What, uh, I dunno. Renee, did Marek tellyou point blank that he knows about Eric?”

“Well,not point blank. That would’ve been a little much for my first real therapysession honey.”

Hertone was back to its brassy inflection, which made Sam’s heart leap. He hadn’theard that brazenness in ages, yet his joy was tempered; maybe Renee was takingtoo much on board regarding Marek. If he didn’t come out and say he knew aboutEric…. “You’re right. That would be, um, a bit much.”

“Wellyeah, plus Mrs. Kenny was still there, in the beginning. She’s so nice, shedidn’t make me feel at all strange.”

“Good,that’s good.” Sam spoke slowly. Then he coughed. “So honey, what makes youthink he knows, about Eric, I mean.”

ToSam’s shock, now Renee tenderly grasped his hands. “He told me what he sees inthe barn Sam. At first, I was just embarrassed I’d brought up chickens, butthen I mentioned the hawks, and he seemed placated by that. But that man’seyes, my goodness, so much sits in his eyes. He said Eric has a great gift, notjust artistically, but that he manages to convey such hope and healing in hispaintings. That was why he wanted to see as much of Eric’s work as possible,why he arranged the exhibit last summer.” Then Renee grew teary. “He apologizedfor bringing that up, but I said no, that’s why I was there. And he smiled andsaid yes it was, but he didn’t want me to feel compelled to talk about things tillI was ready. And Sam, when he said that, I felt ten tons lighter. The elephantin the room wasn’t there anymore, well, not until….”

Shepaused, making Sam squirm. “Not until what Renee?”

Shesighed. “Not until he brought up Eric again. He said the first time he saw thebarn, he was so taken aback he wasn’t sure how to respond. That he feltEric had been looking into his soul as he painted it. Sam, his voice was, oh myLord, so pained, but not in a bad way. Pained isn’t the right word. It was….”

Shegazed at the boysenberry vines, then at the landscape. Then she faced herhusband. “It was like why I was there, trying to deal with the most difficultpart of my life. I love you Sam, I truly do. And I understand why it took youso long, I mean, to wanna….” She bit her lower lip. “To adopt. And even thoughit’s the last thing I want now, maybe I had to understand you. I needed to knowwhy you didn’t wanna do that because then I can love you better, be a betterwife to you. Sam, I just wanna be the best wife in the world for you.”

Hedidn’t search for any meaning past her words. “I love you Renee. You’re thebest wife I could ever have.”

“Well,maybe one of these days.” She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I didn’t know whatto say to him, I probably sat there looking like an idiot. But he smiled, thenlooked at me. And this was when I knew Sam, without a doubt. He stared right atme, then said as his family was being rounded up to be killed, he was followinga hawk through the forest. His mother had sent him to look for berries, butinstead he spent that day, all day, following a hawk. He said he’d never seenit before, but it flew around him, settling on a low tree branch, and he’d beenso drawn to it he couldn’t keep away. It nearly let him touch it, then it flewoff, but not far, just to another low branch. And by the time he realized howlate it was, he was so far into the woods there was no way he could go hometill the next day. He fell asleep right on the ground, then woke the nextmorning to that hawk watching him. It led him back, not all the way, but mostof the way. And when he got home, oh Sam, oh my God….”

Reneeburst into tears, collapsing against her husband. She wept hard, then pulledaway. Sam gave her his hankie and she blew her nose, wiping her eyes. Then shepeered at Eric’s paintings, but Sam didn’t think she was admiring those ontheir wall. She was searching for the blue barn.

“Hedidn’t tell me what happened to them, thank God for that.” Renee then crossedherself, sniffling as she did so. “But he said that hawk had saved his life.The hawk and his mother, which made him go quiet. Then he looked at me, maybehe’d been looking at me the whole time. He said Eric painted that barn becausehe knew, he knew….”

“Heknew what Renee?”

“Heknew Eric knew far more about human nature than most people. I guess Eric toldhim about his dad, but it’s not just that Sam. Marek said a hawk had saved hislife and he never expected to see that hawk again. But in Eric’s paintings, hedid. Marek knows why the mice are so frightened. He knows Eric is all those hawks Sam, I know he does.”

AfterRenee stopped speaking, an eerie stillness permeated the room. Sam was glad tobe seated; if he tried to stand, he’d be dizzy. He gazed at his wife, wonderingif she had heard Marek correctly; why would he have said all that, it made nosense. Renee was there for the pastor to help her, not the other way around. Suddenly Sam felt foolish for havingsent his wife to Marek; he might be a good man, a man of faith even, but hewasn’t a licensed therapist, he had no qualifications. Sam should have askedaround at the hospital, though it would have compromised Renee’s privacy. Butat least she would have talked with someone who could truly help her. All shehad learned that day was far too much about Eric’s Polish pastor. “Honey, mygoodness. That’s, uh, well….” Sam smiled, then patted her hand. “That’s plentyfor one day.”

Shenodded, then squeezed Sam’s hand. “I’ll see him again on Thursday at five. Notsure where we’ll go from there, but….”

“Renee,why don’t I ask for some names at the hospital? I mean, maybe our friendshipwith Marek clouds the issue.”

Reneeshook her head. “I trust him, Sam. After what he told me he sees inside thebarn, oh Sam, I trust that man with my life.”

Samstared at her. She’d mentioned Marek told her that fact, but had she sharedthat detail? She’d told him plenty else, too much for Sam’s liking. When henext saw Marek, how would Sam greet him, what would they say, or not say?“Renee, maybe I missed it, but I don’t remember what you said he sees in thebarn.”

Reneenodded, then stroked her husband’s hands. “Oh honey, he sees his family, all ofthem. He lost his entire family and, and….” Renee choked up, but calmedherself. “He was the only one left because that hawk kept him alive. It kepthim away while the Nazis, while they….”

Now she broke down completely, but Sam shedtears too. Perhaps a rational person would think they had all lost their gripson reality, but despite wishing to the contrary, Sam had to agree with hiswife. Inside that barn Eric had put Sam’s most precious desire, right down tothe truth of Sam’s shortcomings. And for Marek, an equal treasure waited; Reneehadn’t said it, but Sam knew Marek’s family was alive and well inside thatbarn. They were being held for safekeeping, Sam realized, wiping tears from hiseyes, until the day Marek was reunited with them.