Come Pour the Wine (31 page)

Bill laughed as he helped them aboard. “Okay, matey,” he said to Jason, “let’s haul anchor and head to Tahiti. Crew, rig the mainsail. First Mate Jason, hang onto this rope; Second Mate Nicole, grab onto this one,” Bill said, tossing the ropes to them. The sea was calm and mesmerizing as Bill switched on the ignition, starting the auxiliary motor.

Three miles out to sea a gentle wind filled the sail, and Jason was thrilled that the boat was able to glide now on its own power. “Okay, matey, take over,” Bill said to him, and stood behind as the little boy steered a straight course.

At noon Bill said to Nicole, “How about some chow, mate?”

“Okay, captain,” she said, and handed her father and Jason their box lunches. As the two children sat devouring ham sandwiches and Cokes, Bill munched on a cold chicken leg with one hand while steering with the other.

“This is the best fun we’ve ever had, daddy,” Nicole said.

“Mr. Christian’s the name, if you don’t mind, and don’t throw those boxes overboard, Jason. The sea’s not a garbage can.”

“Okay, sir … but I got to go to the bathroom.”

“Head.” But Jason had already disappeared, missing the nautical equivalent….

Abruptly the winds shifted, shocking, startling Bill. The little vessel twisted and turned nervously. “Okay, crew, you’re confined to the galley, and keep your life jackets on. In fact, I want you to sit on the floor.”

More annoyed than frightened, they went below.

Giant waves now began to break over the sail like huge fangs, and Bill was beginning to pray for the Coast Guard. Fighting the wind, he managed to lower the sails and start the auxiliary motor, but he seemed unable to steer the boat properly. Lord … he’d sailed all his life but the waters of Maine weren’t the erratic tropics. He kept wondering what he’d do if the boat capsized, which at this moment he felt was a real possibility. The rush of water made it almost impossible for him to see what he was doing. Wiping his face with his hands, he had a moment of visibility before the next giant wave hit, and there was Jason, crying and standing in the open door of the cabin below. As loudly as possible, the boy yelled out, “Nicole hit her head and she’s bleeding.”

Switching the motor to automatic, Bill rushed below. Nicole was lying on the floor, unconscious. Lifting her head gently, he implored her to wake up, to speak to him …

Slowly she opened her eyes, but there was no recognition in them. And he wanted to die. As the boat twisted, turned, he held the child with one arm while his other arm went about Jason.

It was Jason who intruded on his sense of helplessness. “Daddy, I think it stopped.”

Bill looked at his son, then realized that the boat was calm and quiet once again, the sea having calmed as abruptly as it had erupted. Quickly he put a pillow under Nicole’s head, ripped a blanket from the bunk and covered her.

“Okay, Jason, take care of your sister, we’re heading home.” A moment ago he wouldn’t have counted on that being possible.

Bill carried Nicole ashore, hailed a taxi and sat in the back seat, Jason at his side, as the driver sped them to Honolulu’s General Hospital.

After Nicole was taken to emergency he called Janet, who wasn’t in her room and had to be paged.

They’d been gone for so much longer than Bill had said. Instinctively she knew something had happened. When she heard Bill’s voice on the phone she was sure.

“Janet … don’t get upset, but we got into a rough sea and Nicole had a little accident …”

She thought her knees would buckle. Swallowing hard, she asked what had happened.

“Well … she hit her head … but I’m sure—”

“Where
are
you?”

“General Hospital … emergency.”

She found Bill waiting with Jason in the hall. “Where is she?” She tried to hold back the tears, but they were spilling down her cheeks.

“She’s been taken upstairs.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

“The doctor told me she has a slight concussion.”

“Concussion?” She bit her tongue … not wanting to express the anger that was mixed in her fear for Nicole … plain old swimming wasn’t enough … he needed to show the children what a free spirit he was … never mind if they were maybe not ready for it … and the echoes of his mother’s words came through … “Bill’s too young to take on the responsibilities of a family …” She knew her son … it seemed he still
was
her son …

But Nicole, not Bill or herself, was the concern now. She found her lying in bed with her head bandaged, and for a moment she was afraid she was going to faint. She put her cheek against Nicole’s as the child reached out to embrace her.

“Hi, mom.”

“How are you, darling?”

“Great, mom. I just got a bump on my head.”

Janet silently thanked God. “Are you sure, you’re not just saying that?”

“No, mom, really. Boy, it was sure rough and poor daddy had a terrible time … Jason told me. But daddy’s a great captain.”

Laughing out of relief, Janet said, “You’re a pretty fair skipper yourself, darling.”

The doctor confirmed that it was a mild concussion, and after a few days of observation Nicole was allowed to go back to the hotel, apparently as good as new. Bill and Janet, though, had sustained scars less easily healed, though they tried to dismiss the resentment and anger they’d felt at the time … she feeling he’d foolishly jeopardized the lives of the children, not to mention his own life … he resenting the guilt her silent accusations made him feel … especially since he knew damn well there was more than a little justification for them … Well, Janet told herself, motherhood being what it was, her reactions were probably stronger and more protective than her wifely understanding, which wasn’t altogether fair to Bill. And Bill was hardly proud of himself when he heard his young son having to defend him with, “It wasn’t daddy’s idea, it was mine and it’s not his fault if a storm came up …” God … nice try, Jason, but I guess I
am
supposed to be the adult …

Janet decided it was time to back off, not to pursue the subject, to try and mend fences … Life, after all, did have to go on.

And for the McNeils, it proceeded to, back in the old rhythms … the pages of their family story turning, turning, almost as though moved by the wind.

N
ICOLE, THEY REALIZED WITH
a shock, was being graduated from eighthgrade and was going on to high school.

Listening to the principal’s speech, Bill’s thoughts drifted back … It truly seemed that that exquisite little girl had been born only yesterday … one year … two … three … God, how had he misplaced them? In his mind’s eye he was teaching her how to ride a bike, feeling what he’d felt when she fell off and he’d run to help her up and put her back on, and after a while how she’d been able to say, “Look, dad, no hands …” She’d been only five … at six he remembered how she was outswimming him across the pool … On father-and-daughter Girl Scout excursions
he
was the one who came home with a case of poison oak … And then there was her first piano recital. She was only eight, played the Schubert Serenade. God, he was proud of her …

A montage, changing color and form. A million pictures to review, to remember, try to put in order. And here she was
thirteen …
Where had all the time gone? For him too … ? (Janet was left out of these reveries.)

He glanced over at Jason, now ten, tall and handsome for his age. Bill wanted to shout out to him … Son, don’t let the years go so fast. It was only yesterday when he’d umpired the Little League baseball game. Yesterday when the two of them had gone trout fishing. A year had passed since they went to Colorado, just Jason and himself, going down the rapids, while Janet took Nicole back to Kansas for a week … The years had sped by while he wasn’t even looking. Well, he was looking now. Taking a good look. He was forty and a little frightened. At least he was still hard as a rock, and Janet didn’t seem to notice the gray hair around the temples. And in bed? As good as ever …

He was brought out of his reverie as the parents got out of their seats and walked to congratulate their children.

“You were gorgeous, princess.” Bill smiled, kissing her on the cheek and holding her just a little tighter, as though he could prevent time … her … from marching on.

All the bittersweet memories were gone by the time Bill got home and changed for the children’s swimming party. He was to be the chef, making a big production out of fixing hot dogs and hamburgers. Gallons of soda pop were consumed, there was no hold on the potato chips.

By six the party was over, and Nicole went to her room to prepare for the evening party at Linda Mason’s.

When her father saw her come into the den in her long white organdy dress, he just sat staring. Again the years came rushing at him. There was a peculiar sensation at the pit of his stomach, recalling how he’d walked the floors with her when she had colic, changed her diapers, helped ease the pain of cutting her first tooth … the sound of an electric train whistle as it went over the trestle, he could still hear the laughter, she had been only two …

“How do I look, dad?”

“Like my beautiful little princess. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, thanks, dad, but Mark Weiss is taking me.”

He was disappointed and slightly annoyed. She and Mark seemed to have been going steady ever since the days when they’d played doctor and nurse … Well, they’d known each other all their lives, and it was a little stupid to think they could be serious about each other at this age.

“What time will you be home, honey?”

“I don’t know, dad. About twelve maybe.”

“No maybe, Nicole. I want you home at the witching hour, or you’ll turn into a pumpkin. Courtesy of old dad.”

Bill had more than a little difficulty concentrating on bridge that evening. In fact, he did the unpardonable—trumped Nat’s ace.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Nat exploded. “I had a grand slam going.”

“I feel like a drink. Sorry …”

Kit looked at Janet, both knowing that Bill was having a rough time accepting the fact that he was, in his fashion, losing Nicole. Kit thought, things sure as hell reverse themselves. Bill was his mother reincarnated … one word—possessive. He of his daughter, as Violet McNeil had been of her son….

Later that evening, as Kit and Janet sat having coffee in the kitchen, Kit said, “I think Bill’s a little pushed out of shape.”

Janet gave her an ironic smile. “A little? It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d just talk about it, but he locks it up inside. He can’t admit that Nicole has become a big girl and he’s having a very difficult time accepting it.”

Kit laughed. “Ah, sweet irony of life. He’s going through the pains his mother suffered.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m going to let my brood fly. When they’re all gone it will be just Nat and me and I won’t mind a bit. You wind up like you began, with just the two of you. So you enjoy parenthood as long as it lasts, then sit back and enjoy being a couple again.”

Kit made sense, Janet thought.

Two days later the four McNeils flew to Europe for their summer vacation.

By the time they had seen Westminster Abbey, the changing of the guard, the Tower of London, Bill was ready to push on to Paris. The sidewalk cafes, the Champs Élysées, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower were okay, but the French were a pain in the ass, as far as he could see. Rude, arrogant, avaricious.

Rome was a little better, but he got bored with the cathedrals and museums, and the pasta in Manhattan was better. Besides, he’d seen it a couple of times with his mother and father when he was a kid. The Coliseum hadn’t changed a bit … same pile of rocks.

Janet knew his lack of enthusiasm had nothing to do with Rome, Paris or London, knew he was going through a rough time accepting the fact that his children were growing up—which was a sure reminder that he was growing no younger himself. Well, what could she do to cheer him up? …

He was in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when she came out of the bathroom in a sheer black nightgown. The black lace bodice revealed her nipples.

He sat up in bed, looked at her. “Take that damn thing off. It makes you look like a …”

She ran back into the bathroom, locked the door and tore the gown from her body, her hands shaking. She had thought, hoped, it might make him feel better, perk him up. Instead it apparently had made him feel impotent.

As though he needed that damned thing to get a hard-on. And then, gradually, his anger quieted and he berated himself. Sure … she was trying to lift his spirits, and he felt like an ass for the way he’d reacted. He might just as well have slapped her. Right. He felt better.

He got out of bed and tried opening the door but she had turned the latch. He knocked.

No answer.

“I’m sorry.”

He waited.

“Janet, please open the door.”

No response. He went back to bed, wishing he’d have an attack of appendicitis, like when he was a kid at that damn military school….

Janet took a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. It had been so contrived. No wonder Bill had been offended. Gimmicks, fantasy, sex talk—he had never indicated any interest in them before, and certainly they had never been necessary. His fortieth birthday had been traumatic to him, and in his present state of mind her prank had probably planted some doubt about his appeal for her.

It never bothered her, but she knew some of the women at the club had more than once made a play for him, showing him by a smile, a gesture, that they wouldn’t at all mind being seduced. In fact, a few had been very obvious. Westchester had its share of husband and wife-swapping. But she would have bet her last dollar that Bill had never cheated on her …

She washed her face, took a deep breath and came back to the room dressed in a simple white silk nightgown. He looked up at her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I was just teasing, honey … I’m sorry if I offended you—”

He reached for her hand. “It wasn’t you, Janet. At another time I would have loved it. It’s so out of character—not just what you did but the way I reacted …”