A Hole in Texas, page 27
Carpenter asked Kadane, “Was that okay?”
“Spot-on. Look, Myra’s waving.”
Carpenter’s eyes stung, seeing her smile as she went out with a gesture of good-bye. “Quite a lady, your sister-in-law,” he said. “Thanks, Aaron, for pulling me through this.”
“She did it all,” said Kadane, “getting you shifted from the top to the bottom of the witness list, out of Hurtle’s line of fire while it mattered. Only she could have done it.”
The Falcon was smaller than Guy Carpenter remembered, not all that luxurious, and not all that silent, either. When it took off in a steep climb, thrusting him back in his seat, the motors seemed to bellow. He had the aircraft fixed in his memory as little less marvelous and quiet than Air Force One. It was hardly that, but having it at his disposal for ten days was marvel enough, and the armchair was just as soft as he remembered.
Ray Luntz came into the cabin when they leveled off, removing his sunglasses, and told the physicist they were flying to a small airport twenty minutes by car from Binghamton. Beyond that, what did Dr. Carpenter have in mind? Carpenter told him his plans, and the pilot made notes. “Is all that feasible, Ray?”
“No problem, sir. As it happens, I’ve just come back from Samoa. So—Alaska first, you say, then Samoa? I’ll make up a flight plan. How long will you be here in Binghamton?”
“Just overnight. How did you happen to go to Samoa?”
“Scouting locations for a Mutiny on the Bounty film, sir, with the producer and director.”
“What, not Mutiny on the Bounty AGAIN?”
“Well, I heard them talk a lot about it, of course. They have a fresh angle. Fletcher Christian is African American, and Captain Bligh is gay.”
“It’s an inspiration. Will my cell phone connect to a phone in Binghamton?”
“Why, sure.”
It was John who answered. Penny was in the garden with the baby, enjoying the sunshine after three straight days of rain. “No, no, don’t call her,” Carpenter said, much relieved. “There’s this small airport not far from Binghamton. We’ll be landing there about four o’clock. Now here’s what’s happening, Johnny Boy, so you’ll know what to tell her. Be there to meet me, okay?” He gave his son the name and location of the field, and ran rapidly through the events of the past days, explaining about the airplane but not mentioning the bonus or the Rocovsky letter. John became more and more amused and excited as Guy talked.
“It all sounds terrific, Dad. How did I know you’d come out smelling like a rose? Hard work and clean living, that’s you. I’m delighted, and proud of you —”
“How’s Mom, really?”
“Oh, fine. She’ll be thrilled by all this. I still have no idea what really went on between you two, you know Mom, next to her the Sphinx was a gossip, but whatever it was, she’s pretty well over it, so don’t worry. We’ll meet you at the airport.”
“Perfect,” said Carpenter, though not entirely reassured by pretty well and don’t worry.
As the Falcon swooped in over the trees, he could see Dinah waving in Penny’s arms. Penny handed the baby to John when Guy descended from the plane, rushed to him, and threw herself in his embrace. “Hi. You’re something else, aren’t you? Getting off scot-free, arriving in a private plane —”
“I just stumble along, Penny, trying my miserable best —”
She brushed his cheek with kisses. “The first time you were ever in real trouble, I didn’t stand by you.”
“All’s well that ends well.” Dinah was stretching out her arms and babbling at him. John looked stouter and older, and the premature white streaks surprised his father. He gave over his little sister. She put her hands to Carpenter’s face, her eyes alight in a glorious smile. “Hello, sweetheart. Yes, I’m back. So, John, you’re marrying a Samoan princess, or queen? I’m not quite clear on that yet.”
“Tell you all about her. Wait till you see her pictures. They’re at Grandma’s house.”
While John drove, Carpenter told Penny at greater length what he had summarized for his son on the phone. “Well, now I sort of understand,” she said, “but it’s still confounding, especially about the plane. I’ve seen this man Berkovits on TV often. He looks weird, with that long lanky gray hair and the blue-jeans outfit, but he must be mighty smart. Was he your lawyer at the hearing?”
“Not exactly. Sort of an adviser. Congresswoman Kadane has this brother-in-law who handled it, a friend of Berkovits, a Georgetown Law professor —”
“How fortunate,” said Penny, and perhaps it was Carpenter’s imagination, but he heard flash-red undertones. He hastened on to the Rock’s proposal for a joint letter to the Astrophysical Journal, which led into the large topic of the magnetic bursts from the solar flares. So they were off the Myra Kadane ground, and Carpenter was careful to stay off it.
“Well, Dad,” said John, “I congratulate you! That’s astrophysics, where there are hard facts. What you did was cut through to a hard fact that made a difference. In anthropology there’s only soft palaver that makes no difference.”
“I’ve been hearing such talk for days,” said Penny. “You’ll get an earful tonight, no doubt.”
So Carpenter did, that evening when Penny was bathing Dinah and putting her to bed. John showed him the pictures of Siva, a lissome olive-skinned girl, and his father resolutely suppressed a notion that she resembled the young Mei Li. She was Polynesian, not Chinese, he told himself, and there was no connection except in his still-overheated mind.
“It’s terrific that you’re planning to visit us,” John said. “You’ll see for yourself how bright and sophisticated her family is. In their way, that is. Like the aborigines in Australia, these Samoans revere Nature and believe in their gods. Siva does herself, though she’s been to college in Melbourne. We Westerners are destroying Nature, and we have no gods.”
“I try to understand Nature,” said his father mildly, “and I have a God. I’m not about to argue about God, Johnny, we’ll kick Him around in Samoa.”
“Absolutely, Dad. Can’t wait.”
Carpenter and Penny talked far into the night about the week’s events and about his travel plans, which raised the immediate urgent question of Dinah. “Look,” he said, “I promised you we would eat wild salmon in Alaska. We’re going to eat wild salmon in Alaska.”
“I hear and I obey, mighty hunter, mighty warrior,” said Penny. “Samoa’s the problem. I know Mrs. Atkinson can look after Dinah for two or three days.” Mrs. Atkinson was a motherly parent of five children, who had taken Dinah under her wing when Penny had been laid up with the flu. “Ten days pose a money problem. She charges like fury. We can’t afford ten days.”
“Well there, Penny, we now have elbow room.” He told her about the bonus from the Warshaw production.
When Penny got over gasping and laughing, which took a while, she said soberly, “What are you paying this Berkovits? He’d be entitled to ask for half, it’s all his doing.”
“Well —” In that slight pause, Carpenter’s brain neurons fired a series of instantaneous connections: Berkovits and his hopeless love for Sue Ellen Thompson, their winter break in Aspen, the lawyer’s equating it with Mei Li and himself in Shanghai, and for that sentimental reason refusing a fee. “Aaron Kadane is a very old friend of his, you see, and Berkovits wouldn’t take money from me, though I tried to pay him.”
“How generous,” Penny said and let it go at that. Her husband’s opaque look was recognizable and impenetrable. Something was behind it, but fifty thousand was fifty thousand, a gift horse if ever there was one.
“In short, Penny, we can pay Atkinson whatever she asks. Start working on it in the morning.”
“Believe me, I will.”
That night, when they retired to Penny’s room, declining Grandma’s offer of her double bed, it was an awkward business, after the brief sharp freeze, getting into her rather narrow bed together. Carpenter was not sure about making a pass at his wife, and whatever she was thinking, she did not make it easy. After a while, however, there they were in each other’s arms, starting to make love in the old familiar delicious way, and it was going along hotly when they were both startled by a tremendous walloping BANG at the screen outside the window, followed by a loud Meow! Meow! MEOW!!!
“God in heaven,” exclaimed Penny, leaping out of bed. “It’s Sweeney. He’s on the screen! He’s come back! Oh, Sweeney!” She opened the window, loosened the screen, and in jumped the cat. She pounced on him. “Sweeney! Sweetheart, welcome back! Where have you been? Oh, Guy, feel him, he’s just skin and bones!”
“So he is,” said Guy, not wholly enchanted by his return just then. But he had been hearing a lot of moaning this evening about the beast’s disappearance, and he was glad for Penny.
“Guy, darling,” Penny said, “you know I love you to tiny little pieces, but do you mind if I just go down first and feed this poor little kitty? He’s barely alive.”
The animal was clawing at her with more than a semblance of life, but how could he argue? Penny left, and was a long time coming back.
A very long time. Time enough for Guy Carpenter to lie there and think over everything that had happened since the bad day when the animal had gotten out, the same day he had learned that the Chinese had the Higgs boson. Time enough to recall the Bel-Air party, the trip to Waxahachie, the explosion over the post-office box, the Cannon Caucus Room hearings, Mei on the balcony, Myra in the robe; time enough for him to drowse, for this had been a long complicated day, and he was beginning to sink into sleep when he felt her slip in beside him.
“Hi,” he muttered.
“Oh? You’re awake?”
“Barely.”
“Good enough.” She wrapped her arms powerfully around him, and the Deep Throat Physicist was home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Herman Wouk’s acclaimed novels include the Pulitzer Prize- winning The Caine Mutiny; Marjorie Morningstar; Don’t Stop the Carnival; Youngblood Hawke; The Winds of War; War and Remembrance; Inside, Outside; The Hope; and The Glory. Earlier works are City Boy and Aurora Dawn.
Herman Wouk, A Hole in Texas
