Rushing Waters (12 page)

“Of course not,” he said quickly. “I think we need a break anyway. When you're home, the baby-making thing always becomes an issue. It's exhausting.” They hadn't tried in three months, but he still felt worn out about it. She hadn't told him she was planning to see a specialist in New York, for another opinion about her chances. The last doctor they'd seen in London had been pretty bleak. And since adoption and surrogacy weren't options for them, and she didn't want a donor egg, they had to pull it off on their own, with IVF and the hormone shots she gave herself. She had heard great things about the doctor in New York and was hopeful again.

“We haven't pushed it for the last few months,” she reminded George, and he sighed in answer.

“I don't know, Ellen. I just can't do it anymore. It's too depressing. We need to make our peace with it, and accept the status quo of being childless.” It was the first time he had said that to her, and she was shocked, and tears sprang to her eyes. He sounded utterly fed up as he said it, with her as well as the process. “You don't always get everything you want in life. And things don't turn out the way you plan. You think you can control everything down to the last detail—well, it doesn't work that way. Nature has its own plan.”

“That's a big statement to make over the phone,” she said, crying. “When did you decide all that?” And why now, when they had just survived a hurricane and she hadn't slept since yesterday, which he could have guessed.

“Oddly enough, I thought about it a lot this weekend, although I've been thinking about it for a while. But several people there this weekend don't have children and don't want them. I'm not so sure that's a bad thing. And even if we have them, they'll go to boarding school at seven or eight, so what will we really be missing? A few years of nappies and bedtime stories, and then they're gone?” They would be if they did it his way, and their sons went to Eton. In his family, even girls had been sent away to boarding school by nine or ten, and he was adamant his children would do the same. It was his way or no way on that score, and he had made it clear to her right from the beginning. If she wanted to be married to him, she would have to adopt all his British traditions, and she had till now. But she expected him to compromise about their children, and it didn't sound like he would. He had never been that clear before. “And we're a lot freer without children. We can do whatever we want, travel, pursue our careers. Maybe it's a blessing it hasn't worked.” She considered it the greatest heartbreak in her life, and the worst disappointment, not a blessing. She had been pumping herself full of hormones and undergoing unpleasant procedures, and enduring crushing disappointments, to have a child. Their failure to have a baby was far from a blessing to her. She was shocked by what he'd said.

“I don't see it that way,” she said, with an ache in her heart, and changed the subject. “How was your weekend?”

“Great fun!” he said enthusiastically, wide awake now, since they'd been chatting for a while. “It was marvelous! Lots of good people, old faces and some new ones. You would have loved it.” It was clear he'd had a ball, while she and her mother had gone through hell in New York. Her feelings were hurt as she listened to him go on about his weekend.

She gave him the number at Jim Aldrich's then, and told him her cell phone would work uptown once she charged it, but not when she was downtown at her mother's, helping to clear the apartment.

“Call me at a good time for you,” he told her. “I have a busy week, and I don't want to be chasing you and catch you at a bad time.” He didn't seem anxious to speak to her, and she felt her heart sink as they hung up. Something was wrong—she knew it. He didn't sound like himself, he had been cold on the phone, and his no longer wanting a baby and being willing to accept defeat on that score was bad news to her. He had cooperated with the plan until then, but now he gave her the impression he was done, and didn't mind not having children. That was a 180-degree change for him, and a heartbreak for her. And what would it mean for their marriage? She wasn't sure.

Her mother walked into the room a few minutes after she hung up and saw the look on her face.

“Something wrong?”

“Not really. George is just being very English,” Ellen said sadly.

“He always has been. You never seem to mind it, but he has very traditional ideas, and he's not exactly warm and fuzzy. You turned yourself inside out for him, and said that was what you wanted. But he's always going to be who he is. You're not going to change him, if it's bothering you now. And after ten years, it's a little late for you to complain about it.” Ellen nodded, not wanting to explain it. Her mother knew how hard she had struggled to have a baby and thought she should either have adopted or given up years before. She thought Ellen was wrong to force nature's hand to that degree to have a child. It was too stressful for her and even for her husband. And apparently now George agreed with her. Ellen felt suddenly entirely alone in her pursuit of a baby. She had just lost her last and most important ally, and if he was no longer willing to cooperate, then her battle to have a child was over. She couldn't do it alone.

Ellen's heart was in her shoes when she went to join Bob and Jim Aldrich in the kitchen. Bob could see that she looked troubled and assumed it was everything she'd been through in the past few days. Jim didn't know her well enough to see it. And the four of them had an easy, pleasant dinner at the big round table in the kitchen. The meal was delicious and impeccably served, and the refugees enjoyed the blessing of normalcy in lovely surroundings, and a relaxed evening with a gracious host. After the chaos of the shelter, it all seemed so civilized.

They all went to their rooms after that. Grace and Ellen languished in the bath in their respective bathrooms, Grace even shampooed Blanche, and Bob read his most recent manuscript and made some corrections. It was the kind of evening they all needed, before they faced the next wave of challenges. And without a doubt, there would be many in the days ahead. Of that each of them was sure.

On Tuesday morning, before Peter even woke up at the hospital, Ben's parents, Jake and Sarah Weiss, heard their phone ring. Adam, their youngest son, was already awake, playing video games, and picked it up. He was in his parents' bedroom a moment later, as his mother sat up in bed. They had been up until very late, calling hospitals again, trying to find Ben. No one had seen him.

“Mom,” Adam said in a hoarse fourteen-year-old voice. “It's the police.” It was the call they had both dreaded and longed for for days, hoping to hear that he was in one of the city's hospitals, alive, even if injured. They had talked to Peter the day before, and they were relieved that he had made it. They knew he had Ben's dog, and agreed to let Peter keep him until they heard from Ben.

Jake was awake by then, and sat up in bed next to Sarah when she answered, while Adam watched them, as anxious for news of his brother as they were.

“Yes, this is Sarah Weiss,” she responded to the officer on the line. He and a dozen other officers had been assigned the detail of calling next of kin, to tell them where their relatives were and in what condition. Only the most senior officers in the unit made calls like this one.

Her husband watched her face as she listened and squeezed her eyes shut briefly, and then nodded. “Yes…yes…I understand…where is he now?” It was torture for both Jake and Adam listening to her, not sure of what was being said at the other end. She said very little. “Where do we find him?” It sounded as though he was at a hospital, and then she thanked the officer and hung up, as uncontrollable sobs seized her, and she looked from her younger son to her husband.

“They found him on Henry Street, several blocks from his house. He died from a blow to the head, probably when he was pulled under the water and struck by something. The cause of death is listed as drowning…oh my God,” she said, looking at both of them. “He's dead…Ben is dead….” She couldn't believe it and didn't want to, as she sobbed in Jake's arms, and Adam joined them on the bed and wrapped his arms around them, holding on for dear life for fear he would drown too, just like his brother.

The three of them lay in bed for an hour, crying, holding on to each other, trying to understand what had happened to the boy they had loved so much. And why had Peter made it and Ben hadn't? How could life be so cruel?

After a while they got up and went to the kitchen together. Sarah made coffee for herself and Jake, and toast for Adam. She told Jake what the police had said, that Ben was at the morgue, and they would have to identify the body and claim him later and make “arrangements.” She couldn't imagine it. And after they had coffee, Jake called John Holbrook in Chicago to tell him, and Sarah called Anna's mother, Elizabeth, to tell them the news. The two women cried on the phone for a long time, and then Elizabeth went to tell Anna. They decided that Elizabeth would tell Peter in person, and he could stay with them until he went back to Chicago. She was sure that once he was released from the hospital, he would want to see Ben's parents, but they had enough to deal with right now, planning a funeral for their son. They all knew that Ben's death would be an unbearable blow to Peter too, and he would have his own private agony to live through, not just the loss of his beloved friend, but also the inevitable guilt that he had survived the flood tides and Ben hadn't.

Anna cried piteously when her mother told her, unable to believe the news. And Peter's parents were devastated. They were waiting for the airports to open, to bring Peter home, and now they had even more reason to come to New York. There would be a funeral for Ben, which they would attend with Peter.

The hurricane had turned into a nightmare for Ben's family, and Adam was inconsolable and couldn't stop crying. His brother Ben was his hero, and now he was gone. And Ben's parents acted like zombies as they moved around the apartment, trying to decide what to do next. They could barely think as they wandered into Ben's room and sat on his bed. It was inconceivable that he would never come home again.

Anna's mother was standing next to Peter's bed in the emergency room when he woke up. They had put him in a back room in a small cubicle, and had gotten him out of the hallway the night before. Elizabeth was grim-faced and solemn as she looked down at him, and all he could think of with a wave of panic was that something had happened to Anna, but she had been all right when he last spoke to her the night before, and she had promised to come and see him that morning. Her mother had told her that he needed to rest and get over his ordeal the day before. And once they heard about Ben, Elizabeth had decided to come alone. Anna was distraught at home.

“Is Anna okay?” he asked, sitting up, as Elizabeth nodded, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at him.

“She's fine…they found Ben this morning,” she said in a tragic voice, as she gently took his hand in her own.

“In a hospital somewhere in the city?” He was both panicked and hopeful all at once.

“A few blocks from the apartment. They think the flood carried him there. He was struck on the head and drowned.” They had found his body between two overturned cars on the sidewalk, but she didn't tell him that. What she had said was hard enough.

“Oh my God,” he said, looking as horrified and grief-stricken as she did, as she put her arms around him and they cried together. “The doctor said you can come home with me. You can stay with us until your parents get here from Chicago. I talked to your mom this morning—they're going to come as soon as they can.”

“I want to see his parents and Adam,” Peter said with desperation. He wanted to explain to them how it had happened, and tell them he had wanted to search for him and told the rescue workers to go back and find him. He didn't want them to think he had forgotten. He explained it all to Elizabeth again, and she nodded. She believed him. “I tried to do everything I could to find him.” And Elizabeth realized better than he did that Ben might already have been dead by the time they rescued Peter from the lamppost. He might have died very quickly, and she said as much to Peter as they waited for the doctor to sign him out.

“I'm sorry about your friend,” Juliette said quietly when she came to examine him, change the dressing on his arm, and sign the release form. His eyes filled with tears in silent answer, and he nodded.

“Yeah, me too,” he said hoarsely, and after he left the cubicle, he dressed in the clothes Anna's mother had brought him, went to get Mike, and met her in the waiting room. She looked as pale and shaken as Peter as they left the hospital together and took a cab uptown to the apartment, where Anna was waiting for them. Ben had been like a brother to her, and she couldn't believe he was gone. She reached out to Peter the moment she saw him and clung to him for dear life as they cried together over their lost friend. Mike watched them, whined, and lay down near them with his head between his paws.

The atmosphere in the house was somber, and as soon as Peter had eaten something, he and Anna took a cab to the Weisses' apartment. The Weisses had just come back from the morgue after seeing Ben, and were sitting silently in the kitchen, looking dazed, when Anna and Peter walked in with the dog, who was excited to see them. Adam had asthma and wasn't supposed to get too close to him, but he loved him anyway. Ben had gotten Mike when he moved into the apartment, since he had never been able to have a dog because of Adam. But Peter wanted to bring Mike back to them now. It was right that they should keep him, in memory of their son. Adam wrapped his arms around the dog and started sobbing, and Peter cried as he watched.

Ben's parents hugged Peter, and listened as he explained what had happened, why they hadn't evacuated, which he readily admitted now had been a mistake, but they had thought they didn't have to. And he explained how they had left the building the morning before, afraid that the building might collapse around them. Risking the floodwater had seemed like the lesser of two evils, which had turned out to be the gravest mistake of all.

“You couldn't know that,” Jake Weiss said kindly, with an arm around his shoulders. “You did the best you could, and so did Ben, in a bad situation. I probably would have done the same thing you did. Waited it out to see how bad it got, and then made a run for it.”

“We should have come uptown with Anna and stayed with you,” Peter admitted, as tears rolled down his cheeks, and Adam sat watching them. He knew he would regret all his life that they hadn't.

“No one thought the hurricane would be this bad,” Jake said sadly. “And he might have made it—you did. You can never predict what's going to happen in life.” He was trying to be philosophical about it, and kind to the boy who was clearly consumed with guilt for surviving. “We're glad you made it,” he said softly, as Anna and Sarah cried, and they went to Ben's childhood bedroom. Sarah wanted Anna to have something of Ben's to take with her, and Adam sat looking devastated and stroking the dog, even though he knew he wasn't supposed to touch him, he was so allergic to him.

“I brought Mike back for you,” Peter told Jake quietly after the women had left the kitchen. “You should have him. Ben would want you to. He loved him.”

“I know he did, but we can't, because of Adam. I think Ben would want you to have him. It's a piece of Ben you can keep with you, a part of your life together.” A life that was over and would never come again. Ben would never go back to NYU, or graduate, or grow up, or marry, or have children. They had thought of it all morning. His life had ended at twenty-one, at the end of his boyhood, and he would be young and healthy and vital and handsome in their hearts and minds forever, just as he had been the day he died. “You should keep Mike, and take him back to Chicago with you, if your parents will let you.” Peter knew they would, since they had a golden retriever at home and loved dogs, and his father had loved Mike when he'd seen him at the apartment.

“They won't mind,” Peter said tearfully, touched by the gift of the dog he had rescued and loved for all the time he'd known him.

“Do you think you'll come back from Chicago?” Jake asked sadly. An era was over. The school would be closed for many months, and he suspected that the memories of the hurricane and how it had all ended would be too painful for Peter to return.

“I don't know,” Peter said honestly. “I don't know what I'll do now.” It was all too new and too fresh to try to make decisions. “My parents want me to come home for a while.”

“I think that's a good idea,” Jake said, as Peter melted into his arms and started sobbing.

“I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry I couldn't save him…I didn't know where he went, and I couldn't see him anywhere, just Mike as he went past me. I would have saved Ben too if I could have.”

“I know you would have,” he said, crying himself as the two women walked back into the kitchen, Ben's childhood friend and his mother.

They stayed for a little while longer, Peter kissed them all goodbye, and he and Anna left with Mike and went back to her place in a taxi. Peter was silent on the ride home, wrung out by the emotions of seeing Ben's parents and Adam. Even Mike was quiet as he sat at Peter's feet on the floor of the cab. He acted as though he knew bad things were happening and he was mourning Ben too. Peter had never seen him as quiet. And when they got back to Anna's apartment, the two friends sat together for a long time, talking about Ben and everything that had happened. Like all the other students at NYU, she had the rest of the semester off now too, and hadn't given any thought to what she would do in the meantime. Maybe nothing.

There was suddenly no sense of romance between them, although they had been dating for nearly two years, but it was as though they were too powerful a reminder to each other of all they'd lost with Ben.

“Is it over with us?” she asked him softly, when there was no one else around. The question had haunted her since they had learned of Ben's death that morning. She wanted to be with Peter now, for the comfort it offered both of them. Her romance with him seemed both superfluous and inappropriate now. It was a time for mourning, not love.

“I don't know,” he said, as honest with her as he had been with Ben's parents about their leaving the apartment. “It feels weird now, doesn't it?” he admitted, looking at her sadly. They had had a good time together, but now it felt like part of the distant past, a time they had shared with Ben and couldn't anymore without him. They had lost too much.

“It does to me too,” she admitted, confused by the fact that it seemed so over now, to both of them. She had thought it was only her, when she first realized it, but now she knew that Peter felt that way too.

“Do you mind my staying here?” he asked cautiously, feeling awkward with her.

“Of course not. Where else would you go?” And he had stayed there with her before.

“My parents should be here in a couple of days when the airports open. I can stay at the hotel with them when they get here.” The funeral was set for Friday. He was glad they hadn't asked him to speak at it, he knew he couldn't have. Just being there would be hard enough.

Elizabeth ordered pizza for everyone. Peter and the three girls had dinner together that night, and afterward the girls watched a movie but Peter went to bed. He was exhausted. None of them had commented on the ugly gash on his arm, when he took the bandage off—they knew only too well how he had gotten it. Mike lay down next to Peter's bed in the guest room, and Peter let his hand drop down so he could touch him. Mike was his dog now, a gift from Ben and his parents. And he wished with all his heart that he wasn't, that Mike still belonged to Ben, and he was here to claim him. Peter rolled over in bed and looked down at Mike with tears in his eyes again. “I'm sorry, boy,” he said softly. “I miss him too.” Mike whined and licked his hand, and then laid his head down on his paws, as they both thought of the friend they had lost, the boy they loved so much.