“No.” He laughed. “I’m in love,” he whispered back, then raised his voice so that the whole room could hear. “I’m in love with my beautiful wife.” He kissed her fully on the lips, then breathed in her hair, kissed her neck, kissed her everywhere on her face, not caring who was there to see. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, barely able to get words out of his mouth, his tears gathering in his throat.

“Sorry about what? What happened?”

“I’m sorry for the things that I’ve done to you. For being the way I was. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.”

Ruth’s eyes filled. “Oh, I know that, sweetheart, you already told me. I know.”

“I just realized that when I’m not with you, I’m ruthless.” He smiled, and his mother—who’d returned with a towel and was now tearful at the scene—laughed and clapped her hands, before grabbing her husband’s hand at the table.

“To all of you.” He pulled away from Ruth but wouldn’t let go of her hand. “I’m so sorry to all of you.”

“We know that, Lou.” Quentin smiled wobbily, emotion thick in his voice. “It’s all water under the bridge now. Okay? Stop worrying, and sit down for dinner; it’s all okay.”

Lou looked to his parents, who smiled and nodded. His father had tears in his eyes and nodded emphatically that it was all okay. His sister, Marcia, was blinking fiercely to stop her own tears.

They dried him, they kissed him, they loved him, they fed him, though he wouldn’t eat much. He told them in turn that he loved them, over and over again, until they were laughing and telling him to stop. He went upstairs to get a change of clothes before, according to his mother, he caught pneumonia. While upstairs, he heard Bud crying and immediately left his bedroom and hurried to his son’s room.

The room was almost dark, lit with only a night-light. He could see Bud wide awake and standing up against the railings of his cot, like a woken prisoner. Lou switched the light on and went inside. Bud viewed him angrily at first.

“Hey there, little man,” Lou said gently. “What are you doing awake?”

Bud just gave a quiet little moan.

“Oh, come here.” Lou leaned over the railings and lifted him up, holding him close in his arms and shushing him. For the first time in a long time, Bud didn’t scream the house down when his father came near him. Instead, he smiled and pointed a finger in Lou’s eye, in his nose, then in his mouth, where he tried to grab his teeth.

Lou started laughing. “Hey, you can’t have them. You’ll have your own soon, though.” He kissed Bud on the cheek. “When you’re a big boy, all sorts of things will happen.” He looked at his son, feeling sad that he would miss all of those things. “Mind Mummy for me, won’t you?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Bud laughed, suddenly hyper, and blew bubbles with his lips.

Lou’s tears quickly disappeared at the sound of Bud’s laughter. He lifted him up, put Bud’s belly on his head, and started jiggling him about. Bud laughed so hard, Lou couldn’t help but join in.

From the corner of his eye, Lou saw Lucy at the door watching them.

“Now, Bud,” he spoke loudly, “how about you and I go into Lucy’s room and jump on her bed to wake her up—what do you think?”

“No, Daddy!” Lucy yelled, exploding into the room. “I’m awake!”

“Oh, you’re awake, too! Are you both little elves that help Santa?”

“No.” Lucy laughed. Bud laughed, too.

“Well then, you’d better hurry to bed, or else Santa won’t come to the house if he sees you awake.”

“What if he sees you?” she asked.

“Then he’ll leave extra presents.” He smiled.

She wrinkled up her nose. “Bud smells of poo. I’m getting Mummy.”

“No, I can do it.” He looked at Bud, who looked back at him curiously.

Lucy stared at him as though he were insane.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he joked. “How hard can this be? Now, come on, buddy, help me out here.” He smiled at Bud nervously. Bud’s open palm smacked his father across the face playfully. Lucy howled with laughter.

Lou lay Bud down on the ground so that he wouldn’t wriggle off.

“Mummy puts him up there,” Lucy said, pointing to the changing table.

“Well, Daddy doesn’t,” he said, while trying to figure out how to undo Bud’s pajamas.

“The buttons are at the bottom.” Lucy said, sitting down beside him.

“Oh. Thanks.” He opened the buttons and rolled the pajamas up Bud’s body, in an attempt to evacuate all clothes from the area. He untaped a new diaper and slowly opened it. Turned it around in his hands, trying to figure out which way it went.

“Oh, pooh!” Lucy dove backward, her fingers pinching her nose. “Piglet goes on the front,” she said through her blocked nose.

Lou moved quickly to try to get the situation under control, while Lucy rolled around fanning the air with exaggerated drama. Impatient with his father’s progress, Bud began kicking his legs, forcing Lou away from him. With Bud now on his knees, his rear end in Lou’s face, Lou crawled around behind him, approaching his bottom with a baby wipe. His light swipes were not helping the situation. He needed to get in there. Holding his breath, he went for it. With Bud momentarily under control and playing with a ball that had caught his eye, Lucy handed the various apparatuses to Lou.

“You’re supposed to put that cream on next.”

“Thanks. You’ll always take care of Bud, won’t you, Lucy?”

She nodded solemnly.

“And you’ll take care of Mummy?”

“Yessss.”

“And Bud and Mummy will take care of you,” he said, finally grabbing Bud’s pudgy legs and pulling him back, while Bud screeched like a pig.

“And we’ll all take care of Daddy!” she hurrahed, standing up and dancing around.

“Don’t worry about Daddy,” he said quietly, trying again to figure out which way to put the diaper on. Finally he got the gist, quickly closed the buttons on Bud’s pajamas, and put him back in the crib.

“Mummy puts the lights out so that he gets sleepy,” Lucy whispered.

“Oh, okay, let’s do that,” Lou whispered, turning off the lights so that the Winnie the Pooh night-light was again visible.

Lou hunkered down in the darkness, pulling Lucy close to him. He sat on the carpet hugging his little girl, watching the bear of very little brain chase a honeypot on the ceiling. As Bud made a few gurgles and spurts, lulling himself to sleep, Lou knew it was his moment to tell her.

“You know that no matter where Daddy is, no matter what’s happening in your life, no matter if you’re sad or happy or lonely or lost, remember that I’m always there for you. Even if you don’t see me, know that I’m in here”—he touched her head—“and I’m in here”—he touched her heart. “And I’m always watching you, and I’m always proud of you and of everything you do, and when you sometimes question how I ever felt about you, remember right now, remember me saying that I love you, my sweetheart. Daddy loves you, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said sadly. “But what about when I’m naughty? Will you love me when I’m naughty?”

“When you’re naughty,” he said, thinking about it, “remember that Daddy is somewhere always hoping that you’ll be the best that you can be.”

“But where will you be?”

“If I’m not here, I’ll be elsewhere.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s a secret,” he whispered, trying to hold back his tears.

“A secret elsewhere,” she whispered back, her warm sweet breath on his face.

“Yeah.” He hugged her tight and tried not to let a sound pass his lips as his tears fell, hot and thick.

Downstairs in the dining room, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house as they listened to the conversation in Bud’s nursery over the baby intercom. For the Sufferns they were tears of joy because a son, a brother, and a husband had finally come back to them.

That night, Lou Suffern made love to his wife, and afterward he held her close to him, rubbing his hands down her silky hair until he drifted away, and even then his fingertips continued to trace the contours of her face: the little turn-up of her nose, her high cheekbones, the tip of her chin, along her jawline, then all the way along her hairline, as though he were a blind man seeing her for the first time.