Дэвид Балдаччи: Wish You Well

Amanda Cardinal usually bore well the drift of her husband’s nimble mind. Even now her expression signaled good-natured surrender to the workings of the man’s imagination, which always allowed him escape from the bothersome details of life. But later, when the blanket was spread and the picnic food was apportioned, and the children wanted to play, she would nudge her husband from his literary alchemy. And yet today Amanda felt a deeper concern as they drove to the park. They needed this outing together, and not simply for the fresh air and special food. This surprisingly warm late winter’s day was a godsend in many ways. She looked at the threatening sky.

Go away, storm, please go away now .

To ease her skittish nerves, Amanda turned and looked at Oz and smiled. It was hard not to feel good when looking at the little boy, though he was a child easily frightened as well. Amanda had often cradled her son when Oz had been seized by a nightmare. Fortunately, his fearful cries would be replaced by a smile when Oz would at last focus on her, and she would want to hold her son always, keep him safe always.

Oz’s looks came directly from his mother, while Lou had a pleasing variation of Amanda’s long forehead and her father’s lean nose and compact angle of jaw. And yet if Lou were asked, she would say she took after her father only. This did not reflect disrespect for her mother, but signaled that, foremost, Lou would always see herself as Jack Cardinal’s daughter.

Amanda turned back to her husband. “Another story?” she asked as her fingers skimmed Jack’s forearm.

The man’s mind slowly rocked free from his latest concocting and Jack looked at her, a grin riding on full lips that, aside from the memorable flicker of his gray eyes, were her husband’s most attractive physical feature, Amanda thought.

“Take a breath, work on a story,” said Jack.

“A prisoner of your own devices,” replied Amanda softly, and she stopped rubbing his arm.

As her husband drifted back to work, Amanda watched as Lou labored with her own story. Mother saw the potential for much happiness and some inevitable pain in her daughter. She could not live Lou’s life for her, and Amanda knew she would have to watch her little girl fall at times. Still, Amanda would never hold out her hand, for Lou being Lou would certainly refuse it. But if her daughter’s fingers sought out her mother’s, she would be there. It was a situation burdened with pitfalls, yet it seemed the one destined for mother and daughter.

“How’s the story coming, Lou?”

Head down, hand moving with the flourishing thrust of youthful penmanship, Lou said, “Fine.” Amanda could easily sense her daughter’s underlying message: that writing was a task not to be discussed with nonwriters. Amanda took it as good-naturedly as she did most things having to do with her volatile daughter. But even a mother sometimes needed a comforting pillow on which to lay her head, so Amanda reached out and tousled her son’s blondish hair. Sons were not nearly so complex, and as much as Lou wore her out, Oz rejuvenated his mother.

“How’re you doing, Oz?” asked Amanda.

The little boy answered by letting out a crowing sound that banged off all sides of the car’s interior, startling even the inattentive Jack.

“Miss English said I’m the best rooster she’s ever heard,” said Oz, and crowed again, flapping his arms. Amanda laughed and even Jack turned and smiled at his son.

Lou smirked at her brother, but then reached over and tenderly patted Oz on the hand. “And you are too, Oz. A lot better than me when I was your age,” said Lou.

Amanda smiled at Lou’s remark and then said, “Jack, you’re coming to Oz’s school play, aren’t you?”

Lou said, “Mom, you know he’s working on a story. He doesn’t have time to watch Oz playing a rooster.”

“I’ll try, Amanda. I really will this time,” Jack said. However, Amanda knew that the level of doubt in his tone heralded another disappointment for Oz. For her.

Amanda turned back and stared out the windshield. Her thoughts showed through so clearly on her features. Life married to Jack Cardinal: I’ll try .

Oz’s enthusiasm, however, was undiminished. “And next I’m going to be the Easter Bunny. You’ll be there, won’t you, Mom?”

Amanda looked at him, her smile wide and easing her eyes to pleasing angles.

“You know Mom wouldn’t miss it,” she said, giving his head another gentle rub.

But Mom did miss it. They all missed it.

CHAPTER TWO

Amanda looked out the car window. Her prayers had been answered, and the storm had passed with little more than annoying patches of drizzle and an occasional gust of wind that failed to motivate the park trees to much more than a skimming of limbs. Everyone’s lungs had been pressed hard from running the long, curvy strips of park grass end to end. And to his credit, Jack had played with as much abandon as any of them. Like a child, he had hurtled down the cobblestone paths with Lou or Oz on his back laughing riotously. Once he had even run right out of his loafers and then let the children chase him down and put them back on after a spirited struggle. Later, to the delight of all, he hung upside down while he performed on the swings. It was exactly what the Cardinal family needed.

At day’s end the children had collapsed on their parents, and they all had napped right there, a huge ball of wild-angled limbs, deep breathing, and the contented sighs of tired, happy people at rest. A part of Amanda could have lain there the rest of her life, and felt as though she had accomplished all the world could ever reasonably demand of her.

Now, as they returned to the city, to a very small but cherished home that would not be theirs much longer, Amanda felt a growing uneasiness. She did not particularly care for confrontation, but Amanda also knew it was sometimes necessary when the cause was important. She checked the backseat. Oz was sleeping. Lou’s face was turned to the window; she also appeared to be dozing. Since she rarely had her husband all to herself, Amanda decided now was the time.

She said softly to Jack, “We really need to talk about California.”

Her husband squinted although there was no sun; in fact the darkness was almost complete around them. “The movie studio already has writing assignments lined up,” he said.

She noted that he stated this without a trace of enthusiasm. Emboldened by this, Amanda pressed on. “You’re an award-winning novelist. Your work is already being taught in schools. You’ve been called the most gifted storyteller of your generation.”

He seemed wary of all this praise. “So?”

“So why go to California and let them tell you what to write?”

The light in his eyes dimmed. “I don’t have a choice.”

Amanda gripped his shoulder. “Jack, you do have a choice. And you can’t think that writing for the movies will make everything perfect, because it won’t!”

Her mother’s raised voice caused Lou to slowly turn and stare at her parents.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Jack. “I really appreciate it, Amanda. Especially now. You know this isn’t easy for me.”

“That’s not what I meant. If you’d only think about—”

Lou suddenly hunched forward, one arm grazing her father’s shoulder even as her mother retreated. Lou’s smile was big but obviously forced. “I think California will be great, Dad.”

Jack grinned and gave Lou a tap on the hand. Amanda could sense Lou’s soul leaping to this slight praise. She knew that Jack failed to realize the hold he commanded over his little girl; how everything she did was weighed against whether it would please him enough. And that scared Amanda.