“You’re lovely when you cry.” David smiled again, wanting her to be happy. He was now alarmed; when he came to himself after her call yesterday, he grew concerned about her searching for a job. He wondered if she was okay. If things were all right at home. Perhaps Ted wasn’t attentive enough, or there was trouble with money.
Ella sniffled and dabbed her nose with the Kleenex.
“I’m very pleased to see you.” David turned to go back to his chair, then changed his mind. “Hey, why don’t we sit on the sofa? Hmm? Like we used to. Come.” He motioned with his hand for her to follow. Ella got up and sat next to him.
“There.” He looked at her directly, leaning his torso in a little. “Now tell me what’s going on. I’m all ears.” He put his hands behind his ears and pulled them forward, this thing he did with the boys when any of them came by to have a chat. He was doing his Dumbo ears for her.
Ella laughed quietly. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I thought maybe I’d look for some work. We’ve hired Mary Poppins. Laurie is just wonderful and smart. So smart. And I’d like to be of some use. In the fall. That’s all. Get out of the house a bit.” She was reciting bits of Casey’s script.
“Yes, yes. Of course you’ll have a job. You’re very good at your work. We will find something for you. I will fire myself if necessary. But you mustn’t cry. That’s completely not fair.” David would’ve done anything to take away her tears. Going to an all-boys’ Catholic school up till college, and being an athlete then, too, meant for him that women were separate and mysterious. Their actions were alien to him, and he was drawn to them, but he was puzzled by their behavior. “I can’t bear to watch you cry. Very unfair of you.” He looked stern. “Tell me what to do, please.” He put his hands behind his ears again. “Tell Dumbo.”
Ella laughed. “Oh, David. You are so good.”
“Do you need to start right away?” He paused. “Are you okay? For money, that is?” David was in many ways a quiet person, but it was said that his reluctance to talk about money explicitly was the key to his success as a development person. In his work, he never asked for money straight out. He’d say that the school had a need—for computers in the library, a new gymnasium for the little ones, a scholarship or salary increases for diligent teachers, a greater endowment for the poor boys who needed scholarships—then he’d wait patiently until the needs were met. Invariably, they were satisfied, and he was so visibly happy and grateful at any offer to help that donors couldn’t resist writing larger checks. Ella knew David’s asking her about money was not his way and wasn’t easy for him. “Because if you need anything, Ella. . . anything at all—”
“No. Oh no, David.” She was moved by his offer but kept herself from crying. She’d forgotten about his tremendous powers of sympathy, how he could care so much so quickly. “It’s not money. I think I need to work. Have a career and be a mother.” How could she tell him that Laurie was better at raising Irene for sixty hours a week? On Saturdays when Ella took Irene to the park, none of the other mothers spoke to her, and the idea of her and Irene being ignored was difficult. When Ella watched the baby sleep at home, she felt inconsolably sad, which made no sense to her.
“Yes, of course. It’s good to have a job, too. Being a mother is difficult. My mother tells me so. Did you know I had colic? Seems very hypocritical of me to tell you not to cry, then, isn’t it?” He smiled. “I should understand better than anyone if you wish to cry. Perhaps you should holler if you like.”
Tears streamed down Ella’s cheeks. “This isn’t a very good interview, is it?” She laughed.
“We are friends, Ella. We have passed that point of an interview, I think.”
She smiled and nodded.
David took her hands in his and clasped them tightly. “Finally, an Ella smile!”
She laughed just seeing his delight in her. “I must look awful,” she said, feeling very self-conscious, and he shook his head no.
“Impossible.” David reached over to his desk and handed her another tissue. Then Ella saw the picture frame on his desk she’d never seen before. In the photograph, David stood near a brown-haired woman, a red-painted barn, the kind found all over New England, behind them.
“She’s pretty,” Ella said. Her heart felt as if it were tearing up.
“That’s Colleen. My fiancée,” David said without smiling. “She’s a nurse at Mt. Sinai.”