Moments of Comfort for Frances
1
Frances and David Lawson lived a quieter life now, their home in Concord, New Hampshire, fitted out differently from the days that David was a sought-after lecturer, and a fiercely independent academic, at Boston University. His vigour and intellectual sharpness had been cruelly taken from him by a devastating stroke that left him confined to a wheelchair, or the cushioned, sagging, comfort of his favourite armchair. He had been just fifty when that happened and for Frances, three years younger, their settled and active world had come crashing down around them.
David still managed to undertake some work, to deal with referrals where his sorely tested expertise could still be brought to bear. Frances would often be at his side to help him, to interpret what he said as they sat close together at the computer and she acted as his assistant or compliant, yet hard-pressed, secretary. There were times, still, when that devotion could still be expressed in the sharing of fumbled intimacy, or she taking the lead in seeking to satisfy her needs.
In that part of her life, with him, there had opened an emotional and only too physical void that she was ashamed to acknowledge, in quieter moments when alone in her bed, and that a gifted son-in-law, Nathan Pelletier, made her only too aware of.
Susan, her daughter often spoke of their times together, of their wide circle of friends and what they all got up to on long weekends spent in the forest, on hikes and al-fresco barbecues, their lively discussions around a camp fire before they retreated to a cabin for the night. Rebecca hadn't been the outdoorsy type, but she had become less fearful of being out of her city-bred comfort zone, once confiding, 'Nat's so attentive that he soon takes away my fears...loves them away.'
Frances watched Nat as he tended to David, his easy chatter seeming to soften her husband's fractious mood; his engaging wistful smile, on her when she caught him looking her way, provoking those feeling again, those she had when alone in her room as thoughts turned to the changes in her life over the past two years.
Her world certainly had been turned upside down where it concerned David. With Nat, she felt a closer bond developing, the unbidden sharing of simple duties of caring that she sensed he wanted to be a part of whenever he called in, as he had done late on this Friday afternoon, the evening light fading fast and she having to prepare David for bed.
She had stifled her reaction on seeing him, such was his place in her thoughts when she was alone. But now, and with him close by, she would allow her hopes to fly free. Yes, she admitted to herself, it had come to this for her, the search for a surrogate for all that had once passed for an active life with a devoted husband. There were times when she scarcely recognised the man she had fallen in love with and married.
"It's a lovely surprise that you called in," she now told Nathan, or Nat, as they had a moment to themselves in the kitchen. "Susan knows that you're here, does she?"
"She sure does, Frances...I got a call to be up here, in town, when I got to my office in Boston...endured the jams on the freeway only to be called away. So, I drove up here. Did what had to be done for work and thought to call in. Sorry about giving no notice...or calling an hour or so before I showed up."
"You know you never have to do that. The door's always open...and I sure need some company...different, you know?"
"Has it been tough, lately?"
"Yes, but I won't bother you with it all..."
"You should know, by now, that it's no bother to me wanting to be of help...to you," he assured her before pausing and looking at her, at what Frances had chosen to wear. It was different from other times, when slacks and a jumper, over a blouse, served as the clothes of a carer to a demanding man. He was captivated by her style, the glow on her skin and the unmistakable hint of a favoured floral scent. "I like your dress...may I say that?"
"You're the only one who has...." she answered on meeting what she could only think was his appraising look upon her.
It had been that way from the moment she had opened the door to him and met his kisses of greeting to her cheeks. She'd kept from putting her arms about him, a young man in his smart work suit, shirt, and tie, and with his wondering look upon her.
It was something she would have to store away in her bank of memories that she kept of him. She wondered if, at a moment of some stress for her, if in that look she had sensed that she had touched him, somehow, turned him on or hinted at something happening that was so different from everything that passed for their proper relationship. If so, it was extremely flattering and a repayment for her rush to get changed quickly before he arrived. She had chosen to wear a dress that lifted her spirits and to encourage his gaze upon her. Even after two kids, she had kept her figure, had aged gracefully as some would say, and Nathan's look on her had suggested that she had succeeded. There was still something to be grateful for, the look of a man she felt close to.
If nothing else, he had noticed her as never before, and she followed him around her smart kitchen, the decision to move to a single level dwelling becoming a priority when David's true condition became known and irretrievable. Setting up a new home had all but wasted her energy and resolve. Now, she had her quarters and David had his, the floors hard and flat, suitable for a wheel chair and the doors wider than was usual. The lot was open, lined by trees and in summer tended by her as far as time allowed.
Nat stepped into the hallway and stood looking into the living room and where David sat in his chair. He seemed to be staring into space but turned as Nat approached him.
"There you are, I wondered where the two of you had gone..."
"I'm boiling up some more water," Nat replied easily, shrugging off his jacket as he did so and placing it on the back of the sofa that David sat near to. "I thought to give you a shave, if you'll let me do that...make you feel better before you turn in. What do you say?"
Nat's voice was light and easy, the look on David considerate.
"That would be wonderful, wouldn't it David?" Frances came to stand by his side and looked at Nat for an instant, a hand on her husband's shoulder.
"Frances always does it," David rasped, the hand that he put to the greying stubble on his chin and cheeks seen to be trembling.
"It will be a change, for both of you from that routine, if you'll let me?"
"You can stay so long here, can you?" David twisted in his seat until he could see both of them. "What about your wife...uh..."
"Susan...she's called Susan, honey, your daughter," Frances suggested, her voice consoling as she tried to spur his thoughts on.
"I sure know who she is...my daughter!"
"We're both here to help you, David...so what's it to be?" Nat prompted and attempting to soothe frayed tempers, his tone softening and becoming persuasive. A moment's look at Frances soon showed that her lips trembled. "Go and sit down...I'll deal with this. I guess David's bedroom is the place..."
