Nim protested, "For God's sake, what are we discussing? What's the mystery?"
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you." Dr. Levin shook his head. "You'll have to ask Ruth. When you do, tell her I regret my indiscretion. But tell her also-I think you ought to know."
Still with some embarrassment, and before he could be subjected to more questioning, the doctor moved away.
For Nim, the next two hours were agony. He observed the social rituals, met guests whom he had not already talked with, joined in conversations, and answered questions from a few people who knew his role at GSP & L.
But all of the time his thoughts were on Ruth. What in hell did Levin mean by: "She conceals her problem, and her anxiety, well."? And: "Everything possible is being done. Everything."?
Twice he eased his way through talkative groups to be beside Ruth, only to find that private conversation was impossible. "I want to talk to you," he managed to say once, but that was all. Nim realized he would have to wait until they were on their way home.
At last the party began to wane, the number of guests to thin. The silver tray was piled high with money for more trees in Israel. Aaron and Rachel Neuberger were at the outer doorway, bidding good night as people left.
"Let's go," Nim said to Ruth. She retrieved her wrap from a bedroom and they joined the exodus.
They were almost the last to leave. As a result, the four had a moment of intimacy which had not been possible earlier.
As Ruth kissed her parents, her mother pleaded, "Couldn't you stay a little longer?"
Ruth shook her bead. "It's late, Mother; we're both tired." She added, "Nim has been working very hard."
"If he works so hard," Rachel shot back, "then feed him better!"
Nim grinned. "What I ate tonight will hold me for a week." He held out his hand to his father-in-law. "Before we go, there's something I think you'd like to know. I've decided to enroll Benjy in Hebrew school so he can have a bar mitzvah."
For brief seconds there was a silence. Then Aaron Neuberger raised his hands to the level of his head, palms outward, as if in prayer. "Praise he to the Master of the Universe! We should all live and be well until that glorious day!” Behind the thick-lensed glasses his eyes were wet with tears.
"We'll talk about specifics. Nim began, but failed to finish because both of Ruth's parents, together, bugged him tightly in their arms.
Ruth said nothing. But a few minutes later when they were in the car, and as Nim pulled away, she turned toward him. "That was a beautiful thing you just did, even though it goes against your beliefs. So why?"
He shrugged. "Some days I'm not sure what I believe. Besides, your friend Dr. Levin helped straighten my thinking."
"Yes," Ruth said quietly, "I saw you talking with him. For a long time."
Nim's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"
"Such as?"
His pent-up frustration poured out. "Such as why you've been going to Dr. Levin, what it is you are anxious about, and why you've kept it from me. And, oh yes, your doctor asked me to say he was sorry for being indiscreet, but that I ought to know-whatever the hell that means."
"Yes," Ruth said, "I suppose it's time you did." Her voice was flat, the earlier cheerfulness gone. "But will you wait until we are home? I'll tell you then."
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
* * *
"I think I'd like a Bourbon and soda," Ruth said. "Do you mind getting it for me?"
They were in the small, cozy living room of their house, the lights turned low. It was almost I am Leah and Benjy, who had gone to bed several hours ago, were asleep upstairs.
"Sure," Nim said. It was unusual for Ruth, who rarely drank anything stronger than wine, to ask for hard liquor. He crossed to a sideboard which did duty as a bar, mixed a Bourbon and soda, and poured a cognac for himself. Returning, he sat facing his wife while she gulped a third of her drink, then, with a grimace, put the glass down.
"All right," he said. "Now give!"
Ruth took a deep breath, then began. "You remember that mole I had removed-six years ago?"
"Yes, I do." Strangely, Nim had recalled it only recently-the night he had been alone in the house, with Ruth away, when he made the decision to visit Dewer. He had noticed the mole in the oil painting of Ruth which hung in their living room, the portrait where she was wearing a strapless evening gown. Nim glanced at it now. There was the mole, just as he remembered it before it was removed: small and dark, on the left shoulder. He asked, "What about it?"
"It was a melanoma."
"A what?"
"A melanoma is a mole which may have cancer cells. That's why Dr. Mittelman-you remember, he was the one who took care of me then -advised me to have it removed. I agreed. Another doctor-a surgeon -did the cutting. It wasn't a big deal, and afterward both of them said the mole came away cleanly; there was no sign of anything having spread."
"Yes, I do remember Mittelman saying that." Nim had been mildly concerned at the time, but the physician was reassuring, insisting the procedure was a long-shot precaution, nothing more. As Ruth had just pointed out, it all happened six years ago; Nim had forgotten the details until now.
"Both doctors were wrong," Ruth said; the level of her voice dropped until it was barely a whisper. “There were cancer-melanoma-cells. They had spread. Now . . . They've spread still more . . . through my body."
She barely managed to get the last words out. Then, as if a dam pent up too long had burst, her control dissolved totally. The breath went out of her in a wail, her body shook with violent sobbing.
For moments Nim sat helpless, numb, unable to comprehend, much less believe, what he had just heard. Then reality penetrated. With a whirlwind jumble of emotions-horror, guilt, anguish, pity, love-he went to Ruth and took her in his arms.
He tried to comfort her, holding her tightly, her face pressed hard against his own. "My darling, my dearest love, why have you never told me? In God's name-why?"
Her voice came weakly, muffled by tears. "We weren't close . . . not loving anymore, the way it used to be . . . I didn't want just pity.. . you had other interests . . . other women."
A wave of shame and self-disgust swept over him. Instinctively, releasing Ruth, he fell to his knees before her and, taking her hands, be pleaded, "It's late to ask forgiveness, but I do. I've been a goddam fool, blind, selfish . . ."
Ruth shook her head; characteristically, some of her control returned.
"You don't have to say all that!"
"I want to say it because it's true. I didn't see it before. I see it now."
"I already told you I don't want . . . only pity."
He urged, "Look at me!" When she lifted her head he said softly, "I love you."
"Are you sure you're not just saying it because . . . ?"
"I said I love you, and I mean it! I always have, I guess, except I got mixed up and stupid. It needed something like this to make me realize .. . He stopped, then pleaded again, "Is it too late?"
"No." Ruth gave the ghost of a smile. "I never did stop loving you, even though you've been a bastard."
"I admit it."
"Well," she said, "maybe we owe Dr. Levin something."
"Listen, dearest." He groped for words, wanting to offer reassurance. "We'll fight this thing together. We'll do everything that's medically possible. And there'll be no more talk of separation or divorce."
She said loudly, strongly, "I never wanted either. Oh, Nim darling, hold me! Kiss me!”
He did. Then, as if it had never been, the gulf between them disappeared.