to a question of faith.
Arnold Whelan waited until they were seated and Duncan Avery was escorted back in.
Then he turned to Duncan and peered at him over the top of his half-glasses. Nina’s
heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest. She tried to read the expressions
of the board members, but they were poker-faced.Please, God, she thought. Please. He has suffered so much. Please, let him have his
life back. Let me have him back in mine while there’s still time. “Mr. Avery,” said
Whelan.
Nina held her breath.
“The board has voted to grant your request for parole …”
Nina gasped, and then her heart soared. It was over. He was free! She could hardly
believe it. She was going to be able to bring him home and give him back his life.
From across the room, she heard a groan, and when she turned to look, she saw Patrick
pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, as if he were trying to quell a migraine
or staunch a bleeding wound.
2
N INA placed the bouquet of flowers in the center of the table, and stepped back to admire
the effect of her efforts. Everything looked ready. The china, glasses, and flatware
in the apartment were strictly utilitarian, but the flowers and the pretty fabric
napkins she bought gave the table a festive air. While it would be a tight squeeze,
and she’d had to borrow two chairs from the woman who lived in 8-C, they would all
fit around it. She looked at her watch, and then out the window at the gloomy November
afternoon. It was Saturday, and she had asked her sister-in-law to get her brothers
and the children there by five. Gemma had promised that she would do her best. They’ll
come, Nina thought, although her own jumpy stomach belied her confidence. It’ll be
fine, she told herself. Stop worrying. But it was impossible not to have her doubts.
She had picked up her father the day before at the Bergen County State Prison, and
brought him home to her comfortableapartment. Until recently she had shared it with Keith Ellender, a director she met
three years ago when he cast her in an Off-Broadway production of
Lady Windermere’s Fan
. Six months ago, Keith was asked to come to L.A. to direct a series pilot for HBO.
He wasn’t sure he’d be gone all that long. So many pilots never made it into production.
But the network liked the results, and Keith was still living in L.A. Luckily, he
was glad to have Nina still living in the apartment.
Between the soaps, commercials, and Off Broadway, Nina was busy most of the time,
but she didn’t make anywhere near enough money to afford an apartment like this. Keith,
who was gay, unattached, and over forty, had owned the place, a two-bedroom co-op,
for twenty years and wasn’t about to sell it. So Nina stayed on. Keith’s study, with
the pull-out sofa, was vacant, and Keith had given his blessing to her plan to move
her father in there for the time being.
It was a luxury to have the space, a luxury to be able to offer her father a place
to call home. She couldn’t afford even a studio apartment in Manhattan at today’s
prices. She didn’t know what she would have done otherwise, with Duncan getting out
on parole. It wasn’t something she had ever planned for. Hoped for, yes. But that
hope had faded over time.
“How do I look?”
Nina turned around and saw her father standing in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing
a new shirt, sweater, and pants she had bought him while he was still in prison. She’d
had to estimate his sizes because of all the weight he’d lost. Apparently, she hadn’t
done a very good job. The pants were cinched around his waist like a dirndl skirt.
“Oh, Dad. I bought them too big.”
“It doesn’t matter, honey,” he said. “They’re fine. Believe me. What time are you
expecting them?”
“Should be any minute,” said Nina.
“The food smells good,” he said.
“Well, I hope it will be good.” She had cooked all of
Arnold Whelan waited until they were seated and Duncan Avery was escorted back in.
Then he turned to Duncan and peered at him over the top of his half-glasses. Nina’s
heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest. She tried to read the expressions
of the board members, but they were poker-faced.Please, God, she thought. Please. He has suffered so much. Please, let him have his
life back. Let me have him back in mine while there’s still time. “Mr. Avery,” said
Whelan.
Nina held her breath.
“The board has voted to grant your request for parole …”
Nina gasped, and then her heart soared. It was over. He was free! She could hardly
believe it. She was going to be able to bring him home and give him back his life.
From across the room, she heard a groan, and when she turned to look, she saw Patrick
pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, as if he were trying to quell a migraine
or staunch a bleeding wound.
2
N INA placed the bouquet of flowers in the center of the table, and stepped back to admire
the effect of her efforts. Everything looked ready. The china, glasses, and flatware
in the apartment were strictly utilitarian, but the flowers and the pretty fabric
napkins she bought gave the table a festive air. While it would be a tight squeeze,
and she’d had to borrow two chairs from the woman who lived in 8-C, they would all
fit around it. She looked at her watch, and then out the window at the gloomy November
afternoon. It was Saturday, and she had asked her sister-in-law to get her brothers
and the children there by five. Gemma had promised that she would do her best. They’ll
come, Nina thought, although her own jumpy stomach belied her confidence. It’ll be
fine, she told herself. Stop worrying. But it was impossible not to have her doubts.
She had picked up her father the day before at the Bergen County State Prison, and
brought him home to her comfortableapartment. Until recently she had shared it with Keith Ellender, a director she met
three years ago when he cast her in an Off-Broadway production of
Lady Windermere’s Fan
. Six months ago, Keith was asked to come to L.A. to direct a series pilot for HBO.
He wasn’t sure he’d be gone all that long. So many pilots never made it into production.
But the network liked the results, and Keith was still living in L.A. Luckily, he
was glad to have Nina still living in the apartment.
Between the soaps, commercials, and Off Broadway, Nina was busy most of the time,
but she didn’t make anywhere near enough money to afford an apartment like this. Keith,
who was gay, unattached, and over forty, had owned the place, a two-bedroom co-op,
for twenty years and wasn’t about to sell it. So Nina stayed on. Keith’s study, with
the pull-out sofa, was vacant, and Keith had given his blessing to her plan to move
her father in there for the time being.
It was a luxury to have the space, a luxury to be able to offer her father a place
to call home. She couldn’t afford even a studio apartment in Manhattan at today’s
prices. She didn’t know what she would have done otherwise, with Duncan getting out
on parole. It wasn’t something she had ever planned for. Hoped for, yes. But that
hope had faded over time.
“How do I look?”
Nina turned around and saw her father standing in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing
a new shirt, sweater, and pants she had bought him while he was still in prison. She’d
had to estimate his sizes because of all the weight he’d lost. Apparently, she hadn’t
done a very good job. The pants were cinched around his waist like a dirndl skirt.
“Oh, Dad. I bought them too big.”
“It doesn’t matter, honey,” he said. “They’re fine. Believe me. What time are you
expecting them?”
“Should be any minute,” said Nina.
“The food smells good,” he said.
“Well, I hope it will be good.” She had cooked all of
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