Love Is a Canoe: A Novel (27 page)

“Jenny,” Emily said. “Who you hired a year and a half ago.”

“Jenny.” Eli nodded.

“Wait,” Peter said. “Before you get into that territory. Can you tell me about how you two are together?”

“Like why we love each other?” Emily asked.

“Sure. Yes.”

“You go,” Eli said. “Emily can explain anything to anybody.”

Emily saw that now Eli was red-faced and looking at his sneakers, possibly angry about having risen to the moment too fast and then been rebuffed just as quickly. Emily wasn’t sure why Peter had shut Eli down. Unless Peter just liked Emily better. And why not? Emily wondered. Peter should like her better. She was the winner and the number one fan.

“If she can explain anything,” Peter said, “then why don’t you begin, Eli, with what’s good about the two of you. We can talk about what almost went wrong later.”

Eli brushed his dark hair back and looked up at both of them. His chest was inches from his knees.

“I can try,” he said. He drew his arms into the little space between his legs and chest so he was constricted and half his normal size.

“In my life I’m like a workman, head down, a blacksmith working at a bench. I never look up. I just work and make things and try to … celebrate the making of them. And that’s how Emily found me. At the moment in my life when I was building something with my head down. And she, she … showed me the rest of myself. I made her happy, too. I made her laugh and she can be kind of serious a lot of the time so that’s a good thing. So we fell in love because we fit together in a way that’s complementary. That’s how we’re good together?”

Eli looked at Peter when he was done speaking, instead of Emily. And Emily looked at Peter, too. She was afraid that Peter would accuse Eli of being hopelessly vague and maybe even dull.

When no one else spoke, Eli slowly allowed his head to hang low, so low Emily thought it must be hurting him. She reached out and touched the back of his head and felt his greasy hair.

“That was nice,” Emily said. “You’re still my rock star.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.” Eli didn’t move. “I know what I did wrong. I know I hurt you, Emily.”

“Soon we’ll want to talk about the problem,” Emily said. “I’m sure of that. But Eli is right. We fell in love for a thousand reasons, but for sure we complement each other and we’re obsessed with each other and he’s the guy for me, you know? But I didn’t know he would put me through such a test.”

“Eli?” Peter asked.

“I love Emily. I want us to have children together and grow old together. I don’t want to lose her to some stupid thing.”

“I have to be so strong.” Emily looked at both of them. She said, “I think I meant that as a question.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at her. She shook her head as if to say, No, please don’t make me explain myself.

“Both of you have to be.” Peter brought his hand to his lips, his pointer finger grazing the space above his upper lip. She watched him sweep his hand over his mouth to show he was intentionally being quiet, to show he was listening. She thought the gesture felt fake.

“You must be parched. And I’ve offered you nothing.” Peter stood up and went into the kitchen and came back with a carafe of water and some glasses on a plastic tray.

There was a grandfather clock in the hall and Emily could just hear it. She could also hear what she imagined were honking geese out on the lake. She closed her eyes and breathed in. Eli took her hand and she was confused for a moment. She’d forgotten he was next to her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just enjoying being here.”

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

“I feel bad about how I’ve been. I want to take it back.”

Emily shook her head no. But she thought, Yes, I want to keep you. She said, “You can’t. But I feel really good about how this is going.”

Once Peter had sat back down, Emily said, “This is helping.” She smelled the dusty house. She poured herself half a glass of water and choked it down. “We are healing.”

“Is there something else?” Peter asked.

“Is that what you want to ask right now?” Emily asked.

Peter shrugged. She was surprised. Maybe he had no idea what he was doing! Maybe he didn’t even remember writing the book. She suspected that all he had was the dim memory of a hug from his Pop in the backyard. She wanted to go away right now. Take her infinitely apologetic husband with her. She sat as far forward on the couch as she could. It was past four. When could they go?

Peter went on, “Okay, let’s leave the other woman out for a while longer. Sounds like she’s in the past. Eli, we’ve touched on the thing, the bad thing. What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Are you happy?” Peter stopped there. She watched his face and saw that he was comfortable with the silence. She changed her mind again. Peter Herman was subtle. He was in control. He was brilliant although at the same time horribly awkward! This was likely part of his brilliance. There was more silence. Emily fought her impulse to talk. Peter could do something she couldn’t do. He could help people discover themselves.

She smiled at Eli. Likely, he had some problems with her that kept him from always being happy in their marriage. She was certainly aggravated with herself on a regular basis. So it would be good to find out about the parts of her that they could agree they didn’t like. The idea of saying this stuff in front of Peter was even kind of sexy in a way. Maybe they could fetishize her bad habits and at least have that weirdness as something new? The way she could be controlling. They could talk about that.

“And let’s be honest,” Peter said. “I appreciate how you’ve both been honest so far.”

“Honest.” Eli rubbed at the knees of his jeans. “No, things are good with Emily. She doesn’t do things I don’t like. I love Emily. But I lied to her. I have been a liar. I did sleep with Jenny. We had some times together. It meant nothing and I’m ashamed of myself. We got drunk and it happened. It was meaningless in just the way they say, too. We were at a meeting to get some funding in L.A. and it went really well. We got overexcited and we were staying at the Mondrian and, for some reason, we ended up in bed together. It had been coming for some time—this animal thing. Just a stupid thing. But we got control of ourselves. We stopped. After that, me and Emily grew so formal. I know there’s no excuse. It’s just with Jenny, I—”

“Why do you keep coming back to her?” Emily asked. “Why can’t you stop doing that?”

Eli’s mouth was wide open. He said, “I want to flush it out.”

“Okay,” Emily said. “But can’t you focus on us?”

Eli stood up and then sat down again. Then he turned to Emily, so Peter couldn’t see him. And he glared at her. The sky had grown dark. It was nearly five in the afternoon. “I want to be forgiven for real. Before anything else happens.”

“Let’s slow down,” Peter said. “A lot has just been said. Forgiveness is a big deal.”

Eli kept staring at Emily. She watched his glare fade to pleading. She wondered if, by returning his gaze, she had forced him to hide his secrets. Like a little boy, she thought. But I chose him. I knew he was like that.

“May I use your bathroom?” Eli asked.

“Yes, of course. It’s around the corner, in the nook under the stairs.”

Eli nodded and went out. Peter reached across the table and took Emily’s hands.

“Can you forgive him?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” Emily said. “I think so. I love him. In some part of me, I knew this would happen. People find him attractive. They want to take care of him. I knew that when I met him. I can live with it. I was just thinking that. By which I mean, I am saying exactly what I am thinking.”

Peter nodded. “Your heart is beating loud enough to feel.”

“Please help. I don’t want to give up.”

“Of course not. You’re strong, like you said. And you won’t. That’s very apparent in you.” Emily didn’t speak. She watched Peter flush and begin a rush of speech. “And you don’t have to. You don’t have to create all that pain of ending. You can rebuild what you have and it’ll be stronger. That’s what we’re doing here, you know. I did that with my wife several times before she died. We … renovated the house once and knew we were actually repairing our marriage.”

“I like that.” Emily smiled. “I love simple similes and metaphors. I don’t use them enough. But you do. I admire that. How you’re not afraid of a cliché.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at her. “Clichés?”

Emily said, “In my business we’re allergic to them. We spend half our time trying to subvert them so we can be sure we say something new. No one sees their value. But you do.”

“I see.” Peter took a long drink from his glass of water.

The bathroom door clicked open and Eli strode back into the living room.

“I forgive you,” Emily said, quickly. She looked up at him. His mouth was an O.

“You do?” Eli was still standing.

“I want to work through this with you. I know I’ve said it before, or maybe I haven’t, properly. But I’m saying it here. We can consecrate it.”

“It sounds ridiculous to say it out loud like that,” he whispered. “But it’s exactly what I want.”

Emily turned to Peter. She was still on the couch. Eli sat down next to her. She said, “Thank you, Peter.”

“It’s a good beginning,” Peter said. “We have so much more to talk about, though. There’s uncharted territory ahead. Free of cliché.” He winked at Emily.

“Uncharted territory,” Eli said, suddenly. “I like that. I feel safe here.”

“You never say that,” Emily said. “That feels good.”

They heard a car pull into the driveway and seconds later there was a hard knock on the door. Peter stood up quickly and turned on some lights. Emily realized that they’d all been barely able to see one another in the afternoon darkness.

“Hold on.” Peter stood and went to the front hall. “Hello, Jenny. You can put it all here.”

“No, no. Send me straight to the kitchen. I’m going to help Mike. I’m his sous-chef!”

“Oh, I see…”

“Jenny Alexandretti,” Emily said aloud as she stood up. She clutched at the neck of her blouse.

“We’ll get past it,” Eli said, automatically.

Jenny from the inn strode past, carrying trays covered in tinfoil. She smiled at them but said nothing. She was humming. Emily thought, She has our dinner and it’s sweet that she’s humming! She is not Jenny Alexandretti.

Emily said, “I think we ought to return to the inn so we can have a rest. We’ve been here for a while already. Peter, we don’t want to overwhelm you. That wouldn’t be right.”

“And then we’ll see you for dinner in a couple of hours?” Peter asked. “I can promise that the meal will be outstanding…”

“Thank you, Peter.” Eli reached out and shook Peter’s hand and patted his back. “We’ll see you later. Seriously, thank you.”

Eli went out ahead of Emily. He walked doggedly toward the car.

“I can’t wait to come back to you this evening,” Emily said to Peter. She was still standing next to him, holding his arm, on the porch. “It’s like you said. We’re not done. And I am already so grateful to you. I know I’m not showing my best self. I’m—” She felt herself stammer.

“It’s okay, Emily. It’s a lot to take in. All this brazen emotion can be confusing. Really, I’m so glad this is going well.” Peter’s voice was mild and he wasn’t looking at Emily. “You ought to watch out for Jenny’s Toyota. See it there? That young woman never did learn how to park a car.”

She let go of his arm and walked away from him, thinking that it was presumptuous to want to get all of him in just a day. He would share a little bit. That was enough. She was already incredibly lucky to have received as much from him as she had.

“Ready?” she asked once she was in the car.

Eli was quiet. And Emily stayed inside herself, too, thinking, We’re fixing it. We are going to be okay.

Eli started the car. He turned to Emily and said, “That was good. Emily, you are the most incredible woman in the world. I feel different. I really do.”

Peter, Winners’ Weekend, November 2011

The phone rang half an hour after they’d left. Peter had two fingers on his temples and was staring out Lisa’s study window, trying to assemble more of the right things to say to Eli and Emily when they returned for dinner. They were struggling. He believed they might find some happiness together, someday, perhaps with the arrival of a baby. He liked Emily. The firmness in her character reminded him of Lisa. The phone kept ringing.

“Hello?”

“Peter, hi, it’s Stella. How are you?”

“Stella. What can I do for you?” He took on his warm flirtatious tone. Lisa used to make fun of him for it. Maybe he ought to talk to Emily and Eli about what he had with Lisa. How they always knew to quickly plaster over the cracks in the facade that naturally occurred with the changing seasons.

“I’m calling to see how it’s going. You’re in the break before dinner?”

“We are indeed. You’ve given a lonely old man a very pleasant Saturday. I can tell you that.”

“Oh?”

She was good. To say only “Oh?” That was smart. He thought he’d like to meet her someday. Stella Petrovic. Not afraid of him like so many of the others. Not afraid of silence, either. And why had he called himself a lonely old man? He wasn’t. A liar, yes. Lonely, no.

He said, “This woman, Emily Babson … such life spirit! She is a wonder. That helps, I imagine, when you’ve got to take on a challenge.”

He leaned back in Lisa’s desk chair and waved “no thanks” to Jenny, who had gotten into his line of vision and seemed to be offering him a drink. He pointed at his glass of water and she frowned a we-can-do-better-than-that frown. But he shook his head so she disappeared. Sweet, dimpled Jenny. Years ago when he was really drinking, he’d hugged her good night a little too long and even let his hands wander under her clothes a few times during the summers she worked at the inn before dropping out of college and signing on full time. They’d had some afternoons of good-natured wrestling in the Okabye suite. She didn’t seem to bear a grudge. But then who knew, really, whether she did or not.

“What?” he called into the phone.

“I said what kind of challenge?”