“The boys' Christmas tree caught fire. They left it on when they went to bed. John is …” He could barely go on, and they could hear his wife sobbing in the background, and somewhere far, far in the distance, there were Christmas carols. They had had friends over when the news came, and no one had thought to turn the music off. “John is dead.”

“Oh my God … no … and Li?” Faye whispered the words into the phone as Ward closed his eyes.

“He's badly burned, but alive. We thought you should know…. They just called us … the police said …” Faye couldn't follow the rest of it, she sank into a chair as Anne watched her with terrified eyes. They had forgotten all about her and she stared at her mother now.

“What happened?”

“There's been an accident. Li's been burned.” She could hardly absorb it all and her breath was coming short and fast. That had never happened to her before, but for a moment, she had thought they were going to tell her Li was dead … but it was John … John … poor child …

“What happened?” Anne was crying now, and the twins had come to the top of the stairs. Faye looked up at them in disbelief. It wasn't possible. She had talked to him only hours before.

“I don't know … Li and John's Christmas tree burned … John was killed … Lionel was taken to the hospital …” She leapt to her feet as the girls began to cry, Vanessa instinctively taking Anne in her arms, and the younger girl letting her. And Faye turned to see Ward crying softly as he grabbed his car keys again. They left a moment later, as Anne lay on the couch and sobbed, and Vanessa stroked her hair with one hand, while holding Val's hand with the other.

And in the hospital, Faye and Ward found Lionel being treated for severe burns on his arms and legs. He sobbed uncontrollably as he tried to explain it to Faye.

“I tried … Mom, I tried…. Oh God, Mom … but the smoke was so thick … I couldn't breathe …” As they both sobbed, he told her of the fumes, of how he had tried to give John mouth-to-mouth after dragging him outside, but it was too late and he could barely breathe himself. The fire department had arrived as he collapsed, and he had woken up in the hospital, where a nurse inadvertently told him that John was dead of toxic fumes. “I'll never forgive myself, Mom … it's my fault … I forgot to turn the lights off on the tree …” The enormity of the loss engulfed him again, as Faye sat and cried with him, reassuring him, holding him as best she could with his bandages and salves, but he seemed to hear none of it. He was so hysterical about John that he didn't even feel the pain from his burns. Ward stood by helplessly, watching them as Faye and the boy cried, and for the first time in months, he felt something for his son. He looked down at him gently, and suddenly he remembered him as he had been so long ago … running on the lawn … playing with the pony cart at their old house, before everything had changed … it was the same boy he was looking at now, except that he had become a man, and they didn't understand each other anymore. But it was hard to remember that as he lay in his bed and cried, thrashing the bandaged arms, and at last Ward took him in his arms and held him close, the tears running down his cheeks, as Faye watched them both, heartbroken at what had happened to John … and feeling guilty at how grateful she was that it had not been her son.





CHAPTER 26




The funeral was devastating. It was the most painful thing Faye had ever seen. Mary Wells was hysterical, and Bob cried even harder than she did. John's four sisters looked as though they were in shock, and as they rolled the casket away, Mary tried to throw herself on it and had to be restrained. Lionel stood so tall and thin and pale in a dark suit Faye didn't know he owned that she thought he would faint where he stood, and on his one unbandaged hand, she noticed for the first time with a shocked glance that he wore a narrow gold wedding band. She didn't know if Ward had ever noticed it, but she knew what it meant as she stared at it, and she knew what John had meant to him, as she looked at her son's face. It was the greatest loss of his life so far, and possibly one of the worst he would ever endure.

Anne stood as close to him as she could, crying softly into a handkerchief, looking up at him to make sure he was all right. And there was no question about what would happen afterwards. Ward and Faye had discussed it the night before. Lionel was coming home to stay with them for a while, and after the funeral he and Ward took a walk. Greg had escaped almost the moment they got back to the house. John had been his friend for most of his life, but he didn't seem to feel the pain so much now.

“What can I say?” He shrugged to Val after the funeral. “The guy was a fucking fag.” But he had also been his friend, and Valerie remembered the crush she had had on him, to no avail. They all knew why now.

Faye kept a discreet eye on Anne, she had been through a great deal in the past few months, but she seemed to be all right now … unlike Lionel, who walked along woodenly at his father's side unable to think of anything but his fight through the flames and his inability to get to John. He had thought of it again and again and again in the past three days since John had died. He would never allow himself to forget … never … it was all his fault … he had forgotten to turn the Christmas-tree lights off when they went to bed … they had drunk too much wine … and those damn little fucking blinking lights … why hadn't he remembered them … it was all his fault … he might as well have killed him with his bare hands.

He said as much to his father now. He had nothing in common with Ward anymore, but he had to talk to someone. He wondered if John's parents blamed him.

“They should, you know.” He looked at his father with broken eyes and Ward felt his heart melt toward the boy he had tried so hard to hate for the past year. And now one of them was dead, and it had to end. Faye was right. They were lucky it hadn't been Li. These moments with him now were like a gift.

“We blamed you both for a lot of things in the past year. And we were wrong.” Ward sighed and looked out at the trees as they walked along. It was easier than looking his son in the eye, something he hadn't done in almost exactly a year, even after Li and John had rescued Anne. “I didn't understand what made you the way you are. I thought it was my fault, so I took it out on you … and I was wrong….” He looked at Lionel, and saw tears coursing slowly down his cheeks, tears mirrored by his own. “I was wrong to blame myself. Just as you're wrong to blame yourself now. You couldn't have done anything, Li….” They stopped walking and he took the boy's hands in his own. “I know how hard you must have tried,” his voice broke, “I know how much you loved John.” He didn't want to know but he did. And now he pulled Lionel close to him, their cheeks touching, their hearts beating against each other's chests, their tears falling on each other's shoulders as they cried and Lionel looked at him, seeming like a little boy again.

“I tried, Daddy … I did … and I couldn't get him out fast enough….” Great sobs broke from him, and Ward held him tight, as though to keep him safe from harm.

“I know you did, son … I know….” There was no telling him it was all right. For John, it would never be all right again. And Lionel felt he would never recover from it. It was a loss that none of them would ever forget, a lesson dearly learned.

And when they went back to the house, the others were waiting for them. It was a quiet dinner that night, and afterwards, they all went to their own rooms. Almost everything Lionel owned had been destroyed in the fire, except a few things he had forgotten at his parents' house, some jewelry that had been darkened by the smoke, but not lost, and his car, which was parked outside now. He was sleeping in his old room. Quietly Faye went about shopping for him in the next few days, and bought a few things she knew he'd need, and he was touched. Ward lent him some things, and the two men spent more time together than they had in a long time.

Greg went back to school, and the day of her birthday, Anne went back to school too, for the first time in a year. It was painful and difficult but it was what she had to do. Anyway it distracted her. And a few weeks later, the bandages came off Lionel's arms. The scars were there, scars they could all see, unlike those he wore deep inside. And no one had mentioned the fact that he had not gone back to school. He wasn't ready yet.

He took them all by surprise when he asked Ward to lunch one day. He looked across the table from him at the Polo Lounge, and he looked far older than his years, as Ward watched him quietly. He didn't understand his way of life any better than he had before and he was sorry that that was what he preferred, but he respected him now. He liked his values and his views and his reasoning and it disappointed him all the more when Lionel told him he wouldn't be going back to school.

“I've thought about it a hell of a lot, Dad. And I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“But why? You only have a year and a half left. That's not so bad. You're just upset right now.” At least he hoped it was that. But Lionel shook his head.

“I can't go back, Dad. I don't belong there anymore. I've had an offer to work on a film, and I want to get out there and do that now.”

“And then what, in three months you're through with that and you're out of work again?” It was a business he knew well.

“Just like you. Huh, Dad?” he teased and Ward smiled, but he still wasn't pleased with the news, although he respected him for telling him man to man. “I've just had it with school. I've got to try my wings.”

“You're only twenty years old. What's your rush?” But they both knew he had lived a lot for his age, in part because of John. He had suffered, and lost someone he dearly loved. He couldn't go back to being a child again, no matter how much Ward wanted him to, and although he resisted admitting it, Ward knew it too. John's death had changed all of them, it had allowed him to form a bond with his son again. But Lionel would never be as young, or as carefree, as he had been before. Maybe he was right to give up school, but Ward was sorry anyway. “I'm sorry to see you do it, son.”

“I knew you would be, Dad.”

“Who's offering you the job?”

Lionel grinned. “Fox.” The competition of course. And Ward laughed and put a hand to his heart as though he had been shot.

“What a blow. I wish you'd stay out of this damn business.” He meant what he said but Lionel shrugged.

“You and Mom seem to like it a lot.”

“And sometimes we get good and tired of it.” He had been feeling that way for a while, and he wanted to talk Faye into taking a trip with him. She had finished a film and would be free for a while, and she had no excuses now, and then as he looked at Lionel, he had an idea. “You're not moving out right away, are you?”

“I thought I'd start getting organized one of these days and look for a place to stay. I don't want to get in your way.”

“Not at all.” Ward smiled apologetically at him, remembering how harsh he had been. “Would you be willing to stay for another month and keep an eye on the girls?”

“Sure.” Lionel looked surprised. “How come?”

“I want to take your mother away. She needs a break, and so do I.” They hadn't had five minutes alone since he had ended his affair and moved back into the house nine months before, and it was high time they went on a trip together. Lionel smiled at the thought.

“I'd be happy to do that, Dad. It would do you both good.”

Ward smiled at him as they left the restaurant. They were friends again. Friends as they had never been. Man to man … no matter how odd that seemed. And that night Ward told Faye about his plans. “And I don't want to hear any arguments. No excuses. Nothing about work or the kids, or the actors you have to talk to about the script. We're leaving two weeks from tonight.” He had ordered the tickets that afternoon. They were leaving for Paris, Rome, and Switzerland, and instead of arguing, her eyes lit up.

“Are you serious?” She looked at him, amused, and put her arms around him.

“I am. And if you don't come willingly, I'll kidnap you. We're going to stay away for three weeks, and maybe four.” He had checked her production schedule secretly that afternoon and knew she could stay away for that long.

She followed him upstairs that night with a lighter step, and pirouetted in her nightgown as he teased her about Paris and Rome.

“It's been too long since we did something like that, Faye.” “I know.” She sat down quietly on the bed and looked at him. They had almost lost each other once or twice, they had almost lost two children … a daughter … and a son … they had given up a grandchild and their son's lover had died. It hadn't been an easy time for any of them. And if anyone had asked her a year before if her marriage could have been saved, she would have told them no. But now, as she looked at him, she knew she still loved the man, with all his faults, with his affairs, with the times he had failed her, even with the anguish he had inflicted on their son. She loved Ward Thayer. She had for years, and probably always would. She had few illusions about him after twenty-two years, but she loved the man he was. And that night, when they went to bed, they made love as they had years and years before.