A Song Across the Sea (47 page)

“Give him time,” Adrienne advised.

Worried about one more imposition on Adrienne, Tara had suggested that she and Reece find their own home.

Adrienne wouldn’t hear of it. “This dusty old museum was quiet as a tomb before you got here, Tara, and Ah’m very happy to have it bustlin’ with activity. To have children around me makes me feel young again. Ah have more than enough space here, as you well know. Some of these rooms have been closed up for years because there was no use for them.”

Patrick came and went—Tara knew not where. She dared not try and discipline him. Even though he was only twelve years old, he was, in some ways, mature beyond his years, because he’d had to assume the role of caretaker to his mother. Several days after coming to live at the mansion he’d returned to his old home and found that Mrs. Flanagan had died. He shut himself up in his room for hours, not even coming down for dinner. Tara cast about for ways to reach out to him, but in the end concluded that what he needed most was time.

Reece was working on his beloved airplanes again. The war ended with a great hullabaloo on November 11th, the so-called Armistice Day.

Tara discovered that the shock of reading Mrs. Flanagan’s letter wasn’t the reason she’d fainted that day. She was going to have a baby. Reece, when told the news, sat down heavily in a chair, looking stunned.

“A father. I’m going to be a father,” he muttered.

Tara was alarmed. “You’re not happy?”

“Give me a minute, darling. Of course I’m happy. I’m also… I don’t know. So many things are popping into my head at the same time I don’t know how to sort them out.”

“D’ya think you might have them sorted out in about eight months?” she demanded. “That’s the timetable we’re workin’ on here, Reece, me love. Will that give you enough time to figure out whether or not you’re thrilled to be a father?”

He laughed and gripped her arm, pulling her into his lap. “Of course I’m thrilled, you silly girl.” He cuddled her and kissed her on the side of the neck—one of her favorite places to be kissed. “But it’s also overwhelming. You women have it easy. You know you’re going to be a good parent. And you’ve had practice with Mary. But for men it’s different. Will I be as good as my own father was to me?”

She basked in his warmth. “You’ll be a wonderful father. I’m sure of it.”

“You’re always so sure of everything.”

“No. Not of everything. But I’m sure of you.”

Conrad Schoener came home from Europe, happy to be alive. Lotte got engaged to her policeman. Kathleen and James were married. Tara, coping with sporadic bouts of nausea during the first few months of her pregnancy, fortunately felt well enough to attend their wedding, with Reece at her side. James had gotten himself a promotion at the theater. He was now an assistant to Mr. Glass, who’d come backstage to see Tara one night after a performance of “Rain or Shine,” to congratulate her on her success.

“I’m sorry about what happened, kid. Letting you go like that was wrong. I’m glad to see you didn’t let it hold you back.”

“It was Muldoon’s fault, after all, not yours. I bear you no bad will.”

Muldoon was a distant memory, nearly forgotten. So was the Titanic. Once Paddy came back to her, the pain of that dreadful night when the ship sank disappeared. She found she was able to think of it as if it were a story she’d read.

Adrienne, who went out frequently these days, arrived home at the mansion one afternoon with some surprising news. “Congratulate me,” she said, her cheeks infused with color, strands of her hair blown out of place by the wind. She wheeled her way excitedly into the drawing room where Reece and Tara sat, watching Mary play on the floor with her toys.

“Ah’ve just purchased two racehorses. Well, they’re not racehorses yet, but Ah have an instinct about them. Everyone else at the auction thought Ah was mad, but with the right kind of training…” She enthusiastically described her plans for the horses, to Reece and Tara’s delight.

Reece’s work kept him busy for long hours at a time. He was on his way to the airfield early one Saturday morning when he spied Patrick, just finishing up his breakfast.

“Like to go up for a ride? I’ve got a new airplane I’m trying out.”

Similar invitations had been put to Patrick a half dozen times before this, always meeting with a sullen “no” or a silent shake of the head. This time, however, the boy grabbed his cap and followed Reece out the door. Tara was flabbergasted. She rested her hand comfortably on her ever-increasing stomach and watched her husband and brother get into one of Reece’s motor cars. What on earth would they find to talk about on the ride to the airfield? Patrick rarely spoke to anyone.

When they returned home later that day, Patrick was bursting with excited descriptions of his ride: how the wind felt on his face; how funny and small everything on the ground looked.

The cork was out of the bottle. Tara discovered that her brother had a natural gift for language—as he well should, being Irish.

He finally allowed Reece to take him to a performance of “Rain or Shine,” and loved it. The clever alterations in Tara’s costumes made by the wardrobe mistress allowed her to continue in her role well into her pregnancy. Eventually, though, her condition became impossible to hide and she bowed out of the show, turning the role of Addie over to a young woman whom she herself had recommended for an audition—Roxanne Kinser. Tara was happy to take a break from performing, but vowed to be back onstage soon enough.

One mild June day, just after dawn, Tara delivered a fine, strong baby boy into the world. Reece was beside himself with excitement. While Tara napped most of the day, he was apparently contacting everyone they knew with the news because by nightfall, the mansion was filled with well-wishers.

Tara, dressed in a pink satin bed jacket trimmed with pink lace, her dark hair freshly brushed and cascading down her shoulders, held court from her bed. Her baby fit into the crook of her arm, sleeping soundly after his first, exciting day.

It felt a little strange to be receiving visitors in her bedroom. Reece wasn’t bothered at all. He circulated among the guests, refilling champagne glasses and making sure everyone got a good look at his new son. Patrick was impressed with the new baby. Adrienne laughed and talked to the visitors as if she could go on all night.

They were all there. Hap and Delores, Celia, Kathleen and James, the Schoeners—with Conrad in their midst as a returned hero. The show biz types—Ted Lattimer, Rita, Roxanne and Sally Kinzer—came predictably late, but the party was still in full swing. They mixed colorfully with Adrienne’s Fifth Avenue friends and Reece’s engineering pals, making an oddly interesting assembly.

“I suppose now that you’re a mother you’ll retire from the theater,” Ted Lattimer predicted morosely.

“Not likely!” Tara retorted. “After I spend some time at home I’ll be back. And I’m bringin’ me baby with me, to whatever show I’m in. I’ll just put a bassinet in me dressing room, and bring toys and diapers and extra baby clothes—”

“Well talk to me before you talk to Cohan,” interrupted Lattimer, less than interested in baby details. “I’m mounting a new show, and there’s a part in it that’s perfect for you. Assuming,” he added wry, “that you get your figure back.”

Tara pretended that she was going to throw a pillow at him. “Sure and I’ll be back in fine shape before you know it.”

Hap swigged champagne with gusto. “Tara, did Reece tell you? I’m going to be in charge of production at his factory! And we’ve already got some government contracts, courtesy of General Damon. The general thinks the world of our boy Reece, here.” She’d never seen Hap look more energetic.

“As well he should,” Tara declared. “After what he put Reece through, it’s only fair that he use his influence to help.”

Eventually, Tara and Reece found themselves with a quiet moment alone. Reece, comfortably sprawled in the easy chair next to her bed, stretched his long legs out in front of him. “The champagne’s holding out, thank goodness. Although your theater crowd swigs it down as if it were water.”

Tara laughed. “Actors are like moths to a flame when they get around free food and liquor. We all remember our early days of struggle when we barely made enough money to live on.”

Reece glanced over at the baby. “Do you think I could hold him for awhile?”

“You’re his father, you silly man. You don’t have to ask.”

Reece lifted the baby carefully and returned to his chair. The baby, looking especially tiny tucked in Reece’s large hands, wrinkled up his face but didn’t awaken. Reece touched one of the balled-up fists in wonder.

“So small,” he whispered. “Yet perfect. Every tiny detail is perfect.”

“He looks like you, don’t you think?”

Reece squinted down at the baby. “Do you really think so?”

“Did you see the shape of his eyes, earlier, when he was awake? And look at that stubborn jaw. But the nose is mine. I’ll lay claim to that.”

She felt a sudden pang and reached for a tissue to dab at the tears collecting in her eyes.

“What is it, Tara?”

She shook her head. “I was just thinking of my parents. They’d be so happy for me, if they could see me now.” She smiled through her tears. “I wish you could have met them, Reece. You’d have liked them. They were wonderful people.”

He squeezed her hand. “They brought up a wonderful daughter.”

They sat in silence, listening to fragments of conversation floating in to them from the hallway.

“Tara, about a name for the baby…”

“I’ve already decided on one.”

“You have?” Was that disappointment in his voice?

“Sure and I’m the one who did all the work, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but I was thinking that—”

“It’s the woman’s prerogative to name the baby, darlin’. Everyone knows that.”

Reece managed to produce a half-smile, lifting up her hand and kissing the back of it in a gallant gesture.

“You’re absolutely right, my love,” he said. “And what name did you chose for our son?”

“I thought we’d call him Noah, after your father.” She paused. “What d’ya think?”

He looked at her for a long time, unable to speak. When he finally did answer, his voice was husky with emotion.

“That’d be…just fine,” he said.