CHAPTER SIX

RON SPENT THE NEXT FEW WEEKS BROWSING LEISURELY OVER literature pertaining to the Old West. It was as though an unseen pressure had removed itself, leaving him at last able to relax. During the days he managed to get in some tennis. Evenings Chandal and he ate simple healthy dinners. Grilled steak, baked potatoes and plenty of green salad. After dinner they merely talked over brandy. Endless, easy talk that always ended with enthusiastic chatter about the upcoming vacation. They were incredibly happy.

“I don’t suppose,” Ron said one night across the table, “that you ever think much about having another child?”

“Well, no,” Chandal answered doubtfully.

Ron said no more about the subject that night. But the next night he did; and on the next night, while dining out, after drinking his fair share of wine and after he had acknowledged that he was a little soused, he said: “Baby time!” Then grinned like a gargoyle. A wise ass gargoyle.

“You are pie-eyed, aren’t you?”

“And feeling sexy.”

“These things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“You’ve been pondering these matters?”

“I believe—”

“It’s time to go.”

“Is that a memorandum of intent?”

“Uh-huh.”

Leaving the restaurant Ron slipped his arm around Chandal’s shoulder. It felt good. The evening air had cooled some and the moon shone bright between the branches of the palm trees lining the drive. A chorus of insects sang in the darkness, reminding Ron of July nights from his childhood. It was a warm memory.

It had been weeks since Chandal and he had made love. He could not imagine how they had allowed all that time to go by without coming together physically. Incredible, he mused, and glimpsed Chandal’s legs briefly as she entered the car. He felt a tremor of desire, the suddenly quick heartbeat. When all was said and done, Ron still found Chandal a very exciting looking woman to be married to.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” asked Ron, starting the engine.

“What is?”

“That we—” He stopped himself. “Forget it.”

“No, I want to know.” Chandal looked at him questioningly.

“Forget it,” he said and pulled away from the drive and accelerated toward home.

When they entered the house, they found the babysitter standing frozen in the hallway. She drew back, then gasped: “Oh, thank God you’re home! Kristy... Kristy is...” Her eyes bored into Ron’s eyes. Terror engulfed him immediately.

Ron couldn’t feel his legs. But they moved. He was in the hallway, then up the stairs. He knew nothing except he had to reach his daughter. He found Kristy sitting motionless in her rocking chair.

“Kristy, are you all right? Kristy?”

Chandal was beside him. Holding his arm. Saying something. Ron quickly picked Kristy up in his arms. She looked pale. Her eyes were dulled and sluggish and her movement passive, almost as if she were in a trance. “But then who would be Queen?” she murmured and her eyes closed.

“Del, call the doctor. Hurry!”

The rest of the evening passed in a series of painful lulls and confusion. The doctor’s examination was tediously slow. Ron stood frustrated in the corner of the room with his arm around Chandal. He could feel that her body was trembling. “She’s going to be okay, Del.” He hugged her closer to him and they continued to await the doctor’s pronouncement in silence; always more and more fearful, glancing nervously at Kristy, then to the doctor, who finally said: “She has the flu. Pretty bad case of it, I’d say.” He turned then, and smiled. “But she is going to be all right.”

“Thank God,” Ron breathed and Chandal began to cry.

In the morning the bathroom stank of vomit. Ron had been up most of the night, helping Chandal care for Kristy. He had a headache, his stomach was sour, and the sourness had begun to flood his entire body. He felt poisoned. Even the saliva in his mouth had thickened from the fear. A fear worse than anything he had known since Kristy’s birth. And he had the thought: people take such a risk when they have children. They take the risk that if anything happens to them, they simply won’t be able to go on.

He could feel the inward flinching at the thought and then he pushed past it and he was all right. He took an Alka-Seltzer, spent some time in the bedroom, then went looking for Chandal. She was standing by the kitchen window watching the children play in the next yard. As he moved closer, he realized the window was closed, yet he could hear the children’s voices distinctly.

There was a small hallway in the rear corner of the room. He went to it and saw the back door, with the pane of glass nearest the top smashed and lying in fragments on the floor.

“Del? How did it happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said without looking at him. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

He met Chandal’s eyes—vast and blue in her white face— and was able to smile reassuringly. “Hey, she’s okay, you know. That kid’s tough.”

“Tough,” Chandal repeated and left the room.

The next few days passed quickly, with Kristy growing stronger, until finally she arose one morning, jumped from her bed and ate a large breakfast. After that, she disappeared into the garden to play.

“Two more days,” Ron said, sipping his coffee.

“What?” Chandal had been watching Kristy play out back.

“We leave for vacation Monday. Finally!”

“I don’t know,” Chandal said. “Do you think Kristy is up to it?”

“Of course. Look at her out there.” Ron knew what Chandal was feeling; he felt it too. Yet, for the first time in days he also felt positive about something. Really sure. He felt omnipotent at the prospect of his new calling. Adventure. It was what they both needed. Though he still dreaded the driving part of the vacation, he knew he would be happier on the road than sitting around the office waiting for the boom to be lowered. If his agency was going to go under, he wanted to be well away from it when it sank to the bottom.

“The question,” he said whimsically, “is whether or not we should ever come back again. With that kind of jump on our creditors, maybe we should just disappear into the setting sun.”

“Are we in that much trouble?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

When Chandal spoke again, her voice was remote. “We could put off the trip if you like.” She shrugged. “I know you’re worried about the agency, and—”

“Hey, we’ve been all through that.”

“I know,” Chandal said, staring at nothing. “But, if—”

“Del, stop worrying. You’ll see, once we’re away from here, everything will look different.” He got up suddenly, took Chandal by the waist. “Del, face it. It’s about time we said to hell with everything and everybody and enjoyed ourselves.” Gently, persuasively, he added: “I know I’m ready to.”

Chandal looked into his eyes and smiled. “You’re a very courageous person in your own way,” she said thoughtfully. Then she reached up and kissed him, a warm kiss, a kiss for the long journey ahead.