But these juvenile career fantasies were supplanted by a newer and better dream that sustained Jason through the grim series of practice exams in January, and the spring tension when the real finals were approaching.
It was the thought that, pass or fail, he would at last be reunited with that lovely Dutch girl whose picture smiled at him from his desk.
He had not lived like a total monk in the two-and-a-half-year interval since he had last seen Fanny. But the girls with whom he had casual dates only reminded him of how different his relationship with her was.
And though she never said anything in her letters, he somehow sensed that she too was merely marking time till they could be together again.
For this reason Jason welcomed the advent of exams with enthusiasm. While most of his classmates grew sicker and more panicked with every test, he regarded the filling of each bluebook as another leaf in the passport that would take him through the gates of the Law School. And into the arms of his beloved.
During the long flight to Amsterdam, Jason was nervous about seeing her again. It had been so long. Had he just embellished the wonder of their relationship in the desperate boredom of military routine? Would their meeting at Schiphol Airport be an anticlimax?
He knew when he saw her just beyond the customs gate that it was not. When they kissed, he felt the same stirring.
They spent the first few days at her parents’ farm, where he savored the warmth and closeness of the van der Post family. Her brother, who was studying in The Hague, and her married sister — not to mention assorted cousins and aunts — came by to meet Fanny’s American friend.
The night before they left, he was standing in front of the fireplace in the main room of the farmhouse looking at the photographs on the mantelpiece.
“It’s amazing,” he exclaimed, “I’ve met all of these people in less than a week.”
And then he stopped in front of the snapshot of a dark-haired girl.
“Except her.”
“That’s Eva,” said Mrs. van der Post. “I suppose Fanny has told you about her.”
“Yes,” Jason replied.
“She’s a wonderful girl,” added Fanny’s father. “Always a little sad, but that’s understandable.”
Fanny took Jason to visit the Anne Frank house at Prinsengracht 263, in the shadow of the Westerkerk. To give him a graphic demonstration of what his co-religionists had experienced during the Second World War.
He stood there silently, glancing at the cramped garret where the young Dutch girl and her family hid from the occupying troops for more than a year before being dragged off to their deaths.
“All through this, she never lost her humanity,” Fanny remarked. “You should read her diary. Despite everything, she believed people were really basically good at heart. And they took such a person — an innocent little girl — to the gas chambers just because she was Jewish.”
The story was not totally new to Jason. For Anne Frank’s diary had been dramatized into a successful Broadway play, which he knew his parents had seen.
In retrospect, he wondered why they had not discussed it at any length with him and his sister. Could they have possibly believed that it had nothing to do with them?
And then they drove to Venice to resume their love affair where it had left off three years earlier.
“Fanny, do you think we’re the first couple to make love in a gondola?”
“No, my darling, we’re about a thousand years late.”
“Well, we’re the first to make great love.”
Their joy and passion had not changed. Fanny had the unique gift of making Jason see the laughter in the world. But now there was something more to their relationship.
Jason had known many women and had at times been captivated, even infatuated. But what he felt for Fanny was completely different. Never before had he wanted to give so much of himself. Not only sensuality but tenderness. He longed to shelter her, to take care of her.
And she, the strong independent doctor, could let herself become a child again and revel in the warmth of his protectiveness.
But when the amorous initiative was hers, she made him feel he could be vulnerable. And for the first time he experienced a woman’s love not merely fired by his strength.
Thus they were parent, child, lover, and friend to each other. A completeness too miraculous to lose.
Their holiday was all too brief and once again they were about to part.
“I’ll fly back as soon as my last exam is over in June,” he promised.
“What’ll I do until then?” she asked forlornly.
“Come on, it’s not that long. Our last separation was nearly three years.”
“Yes,” she replied wistfully. “But then I had no idea how much I loved you.”
Jason looked at her. “Fanny, I have a confession to make.”
“What?” she asked, slightly off balance.
“Yesterday afternoon when I wanted to go off by myself, there was a reason.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. “If it fits any one of your fingers, then I think we should get married.”
“Jason,” she smiled, “if it fits one of my toes we will get married.”
The future bride and groom embraced.
Andrew met George Keller at the Trailways Bus Station in Bangor. They used the drive back to the Eliot retreat in Seal Harbor to get up to date.
“You look pale, George. Haven’t you been outside all summer?”
“I’m a graduate student, not a lifeguard, Andrew. And I must finish my dissertation by next spring.”
“What’s the urgeucy?”
“Because I want to get my degree next June.”
“What’ll you do after that?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“So what’s the rush?”
“You wouldn’t understand. But I must keep to my schedule. Anyway, I’m grateful for your enticing me up for the weekend.”
“Weekend? I thought you were staying the whole week.”
“No no no. I must get back to my writing.”
“Okay,” Andrew capitulated. “But if I see you scribble so much as a postcard in the next two days, I’ll punch you out. Agreed?”
“Under protest.” The scholar smiled. “Anyway, old boy, how’s marriage?”
“Oh, let me tell you, Keller, it’s a fun thing. You ought to try it.”
“All in due time, Andrew. But first I must —”
“Don’t even say it,” his classmate interrupted. “I forbid you to mention your thesis all weekend. And — uh — if you could manage to keep the conversation general, it’d be nice for Faith. I mean, she’s a great kid, but academics is not her strong point.”
The lovely Mrs. Andrew Eliot waved to them from the edge of the dock as they approached. Even the otherwise preoccupied George Keller could not help noticing how good she looked in a bikini. And how it felt when she gave him a welcoming hug.
Faith then led both men to the terrace where a large pitcher of martinis awaited.
“I’ve been looking forward to having a real talk with you ever since we met at the wedding,” Faith remarked as she handed George a glass. “Andrew says you have a brilliant mind.”
“Andrew flatters me.”
“I know.” She giggled. “He flatters me, too. But I like it.”
George then presented her with a gift-wrapped package.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she exclaimed as she tore it open. And then with slightly forced gaiety added, “Oh — a book. Look, Andrew, George brought me a book.”