thing, wasn’t what you’d expect. It was a long time ago, before Daniel left. We went to pick mushrooms in the forest. It was one of those perfect days—blue sky, sunny, a soft breeze. And there was this other couple there and they had a daughter who was about four. They were lovely parents, very sensitive. They spoke to her in soft, gentle voices. And the daughter—wel , I never saw anything like it. You see these idealized kids in Renaissance paintings, but they’re not meant to be realistic. But she was smiling at everyone, she was glowing, I never saw anything like it. She was the happiest kid, maybe the happiest person, on earth, and she wanted to share her happiness with everyone, she was smiling at everyone in this sweet, happy, trusting way.
Daniel and I just couldn’t believe it. She was ful of love. And we were both heartbroken— because she was on the wrong planet. It was just so horrible to think of what was waiting for her, how life would hurt her. Someone like that, you want them to be on an island somewhere.”
“There’s a phase in child development that matches what you describe.”
“No, this was dif erent. She stood out. I never saw anyone like this. I never saw any kid smiling like that at strangers.”
“I don’t know. Sounds a bit sentimental to me, Dana.”
“You’d know what I meant if you saw her.”
“We al manage to survive. We al go from innocence and glory to adulthood. You want a paradise where everyone is happy. It’s unrealistic.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Maybe you and Daniel were saddened by the girl because you wanted a child.”
“No, we were sad because she was such a rare and beautiful thing and we knew it wouldn’t last, she’d be crushed.”
“If she had nice parents, and inner strength, why wouldn’t she go on being ful of love? Maybe she’s one of those lucky people who stay happy al their lives.”
“I would like to believe that. But I don’t think it’s likely.”
“You identify with her. I guess I do too, listening to you.”
“Did you have a happy childhood, Vronsky?”
“At times,” he said elusively. He almost never talked about his personal life.
“I have something important to tel you, Vronsky. A few things happened this week. First, I found out something about my husband. It turns out that people in the army know where he is, but they refuse to tel me.”
“Real y!” He seemed very surprised.
“You don’t happen to know anyone in Intel igence, do you, Vronsky?”
“I’d be happy to know someone with intel igence,” he said, smiling wryly.
“Something else happened. I met someone.”
“You mean a man? That’s good news, Dana.”
“It’s terrible news! I’m married. And so is he.”
“Ah,” he said, disappointed.
“I feel I’m get ing closer to nding my husband. I just need to nd someone in Intel igence who can look up the information. I feel I’m
“I feel I’m get ing closer to nding my husband. I just need to nd someone in Intel igence who can look up the information. I feel I’m real y get ing close. What timing!”
“You’re in love?”
“No, I love my husband. You can only love one person.”
“That hasn’t been my experience,” Vronsky said, but he wouldn’t expand.
“Vronsky, how about today after dinner we go for a walk along the boardwalk?”
“I can’t, I promised my sister I’d be home.”
“You always have an excuse.”
“There’s a television show she wants to watch, I sign it for her.”
“She’s lucky she has you.”
“I’m lucky I have her.”
“What’s she like?”
“Sonya? She has a good sense of humor, she’s fun to be with.”
“Do you think we should go on having dinner?” I asked him suddenly. I didn’t plan to say it, the words just came out on their own. They had a color: deep blue, like the sky at night in the middle of a field.
Vronsky nodded. “I understand,” he said.
“I was just asking. Because, you know, you don’t real y open up to me.”
He looked stunned, and very hurt. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
