Mary Clark - A Cry In The Night

The pine soap. That was what she had detected as she came into the room-the faint aroma of pine, so subtle it was almost impossible to distinguish.

“Is this where Tina and I sleep, Mommy?” Beth asked.

Erich laughed. “No, Mouse. You and Tina will be across the hall. But do you want to see my room first? It’s right next door.”

Jenny followed, expecting to see the room of a bachelor in the family home. She was anxious to experience Erich’s personal taste in furnishing. Almost everything she had seen so far seemed to have been left to him.

He threw open the door of the room next to the master bedroom. Here too the overhead light was already on. She saw a single maple bed covered by a colorful quilt. A rolltop desk, half-open, revealed pencils and crayons and sketch pads. A three-shelf bookcase contained the Book of Knowledge. A Little League trophy stood on the dresser. A high-backed rocker was in the left corner near the door. A hockey stick was propped against the right wall.

It was the room of a ten-year-old child.

I never slept here after Mother died,” Erich explained. “When I was little I used to love lying in bed, listening to the sound of her moving around in her room. The night of the accident I couldn’t stand to come in here. To calm me down, Dad and I both moved to the two back bedrooms. We never moved back.”

“Are you saying that this room and the master bedroom haven’t been slept in in nearly twenty-five years?”

“That’s right. But we didn’t close them off. We just didn’t use them. But someday our son will use this room, sweetheart.”

Jenny was glad to go back into the foyer. Despite the cheerful quilt and warm maple furniture there was something disquieting about Erich’s boyhood room.

Beth tugged at her restlessly. “Mommy, we’re hungry,” she said positively.

“Oh, Mouse, I’m sorry. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Beth raced down the long hall, her footsteps noisy for such little feet. Tina ran behind her. “Wait for me, Beth.”

“Don’t run,” Erich called after them.

“Don’t break anything,” Jenny warned, remembering the delicate porcelain in the parlor.

Erich lifted the mink off her shoulders, dropped it over his arm. “Well, what do you think?”

Something about the way he asked the question was disturbing. It was as though he was too eager for approval, and she reassured him now the same way she answered a similar question from Beth. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

The refrigerator was well-stocked. She heated milk for cocoa and made ham sandwiches. “I have champagne for us,” Erich said. He put his arm over the back of her chair.

“I’ll be ready for it in a little while.” Jenny smiled at him and tilted her head toward the girls. “As soon as I clear the decks.”

They were just about to get up when the doorbell rang. Erich’s scowl changed to a look of pleasure when he opened the door. “Mark, for heaven sake! Come on in.”

The visitor filled the entry. His windblown sandy hair almost touched the top of the doorway. Rangy shoulders were not hidden by his heavy hooded parka. Piercing blue eyes dominated his strong-featured face. “Jenny,” Erich said. “This is Mark Garrett. I’ve told you about him.”

Mark Garrett. Dr. Garrett, the veterinarian, who had been Erich’s closest friend since boyhood. “Mark’s like a brother,” Erich had told her. “In fact if anything had happened to me before I married, he would have inherited the farm.”

Jenny extended her hand, felt his, cold and strong, cover hers.

“I’ve always said you had good taste, Erich,” Mark commented. “Welcome to Minnesota, Jenny.”

She liked him immediately. “It’s lovely to be here.” She introduced the girls to him. They were both unexpectedly shy. “You’re very, very big,” Beth told him.

He refused coffee. “I hate to barge in,” he told Erich, “but I wanted you to hear it from me. Baron pulled a tendon pretty badly this afternoon.”

Baron was Erich’s horse. Erich had talked about him. “A thoroughbred, flawless breeding, nervous, bad-tempered. A remarkable animal. I could have raced him but prefer having him for myself.”

“Were any bones broken?” Erich’s voice was absolutely calm.

“Positively not.”

“What happened?”

Mark hesitated. “Somehow the stable door was left open and he got out. He stumbled when he tried to jump the barbed-wire fence on the east field.”

“The stable door was open?” Each word was precisely enunciated. “Who left it open?”

“No one admits to it. Joe swears he closed it when he left the stable after he fed Baron this morning.”

Joe. The driver. No wonder he had looked so frightened, Jenny thought. She looked at the girls. They were sitting quietly at the table. A minute ago they’d been ready to scamper away. Now they seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere, the anger Erich wasn’t bothering to hide.

“I told Joe not to discuss it with you until I had a chance to see you. Baron will be fine in a couple of weeks. I think Joe probably didn’t pull the door fast when he left. He’d never be deliberately careless. He loves that animal.”

“Apparently no one in his family inflicts harm deliberately,” Erich snapped. “But they certainly manage to inflict it. If Baron is left lame…”

“He won’t be. I’ve hosed him down and bandaged him. Why don’t you walk out and see him now? You’ll feel better.”

“I might as well.” Erich reached into the kitchen closet for his coat. His expression was coldly furious.

Mark followed him out. “Again, welcome, Jenny,” he said. “My apologies for being the bearer of bad news.” As the door closed behind them, she heard his deep, calm voice: “Now, Erich, don’t get upset.”

It took a warm bath and bedtime story before the children finally settled down. Jenny tiptoed out of the room exhausted. She’d pushed the beds together with one against the wall. Then she’d shoved the steamer trunk against the exposed side of the other one. The room that an hour before had been in perfect order was a mess. The suitcases were open on the floor. She’d rifled through them hunting for pajamas and Tina’s favorite old blanket, but had not bothered to unpack properly. She was too tired now. It could wait till morning. Erich was there just as she came out. She watched his expression change as he surveyed the untidiness inside.

“Let’s leave it, darling,” she said wearily. “I know it’s every which way but I’ll put it right tomorrow.”

It seemed to her that he made a deliberate attempt to sound casual. “I’m afraid I couldn’t go to bed and leave this.”

It took him only a few minutes to completely unpack, to stack underwear and socks in furniture drawers, to hang dresses and sweaters in the closet. Jenny gave up trying to help. If they wake up they’ll be around for hours, she thought, but was suddenly too tired to protest. Finally Erich pushed the outer bed so that it was lined exactly with its twin, straightened the small shoes and boots, stacked the suitcases on an upper shelf and closed the closet door which Jenny had left ajar.

When he was finished, the room was infinitely neater and the children hadn’t awakened. Jenny shrugged. She knew she should be grateful but could not help feeling that the risk of waking the children should have overcome the need for a clean-up session, particularly on a wedding night.

In the hall, Erich put his arms around her. “Sweetheart, I know what a long day this has been. I drew a tub for you. It should be about the right temperature now. Why don’t you get changed and I’ll fix a tray for us. I’ve got champagne cooling and a jar of the best caviar I could find in Bloomingdale’s. How does that sound?”