CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

The war dragged on, and Adam charted its progress on the pages of his newspapers, as reported by his now far-flung staff of reporters. His newspapers continued to prosper, although shortages and labor problems mounted. By 1943, everything was scarce -- gasoline, coffee, even shoes. Adam didn't care about rationing; he and Elizabeth had everything they needed. But he knew there was one thing he could not live without -- paper.

Supplies were running low, and he knew that soon newsprint would be like gold. He asked Elizabeth to buy a Canadian paper mill. A year later, when the blitzkrieg in Norway cut off the Scandinavian supply, newsprint's price rose to fifty dollars a ton, and newspapers were crippled by shortages. Many papers resorted to rationing, even freezing circulation.

Because of Adam's foresight, the Times was spared. He watched as the rival San Francisco Journal shrank in size. Finally, one afternoon the Journal's publisher Howard Capen appeared in his office. He got right to the point. He wanted to buy newsprint at whatever price Adam wanted. Adam refused.

Like many people, Adam made money during the war, but he was quick to donate s.p.a.ce to the good causes of bond drives and rationing programs. But he wanted to do more, something for the servicemen overseas to lessen their loneliness. He decided to publish a pocket-sized "pony edition" replica of the Times. It was stuffed inside the regular newspaper with the suggestion that the "pony" be mailed to loved ones overseas.

By 1945, the Times' reputation had put Adam firmly in the Democrats' favor, and there were mumblings that he should run for public office. But he declined, wanting to put all his energies into building his newspaper chain.

At age of forty-five, Adam was at the zenith of his powers. Thanks to Elizabeth, her elegant dinner parties and their donations to the opera, his reputation now glistened with respectability. When a national women's magazine decided to do a feature on the Bryants, Adam found the article ironic. It painted a portrait of family bliss, yet it was far from the truth in regard to Ian.

Since Chimmoko had left, Ian had become severely withdrawn. He began to have trouble in school and he had no close friends. His behavior toward Elizabeth and his half-sister Kellen grew worse. Adam didn't notice it at first because he often did not return home until after the children were in bed.

But one night, he came home early, hoping to spend a quiet evening with Elizabeth. During dinner, Ian was sullen and Adam watched in silence as Elizabeth tried to draw Ian into conversation.

"Tomorrow's Sat.u.r.day," Elizabeth said, as dessert was served. "Perhaps you could take your father to the stables, Ian. Maybe he'd like to go riding with you." She looked at Adam hopefully.

"I don't know," Adam said slowly. "I have to be in Seattle Sunday for that board meeting."

"That's right," Ian said. "He has to work. He always has to work. He has to go write his d.a.m.n editorials!"

Elizabeth reddened. "Ian, you shouldn't use that language or tone of voice when talking to your father."

Ian turned to her, his dark eyes hard. "Quit trying to tell me what to do," he said. "You're not my f.u.c.king mother."

"Ian, apologize this instant to Elizabeth," Adam demanded. Ian just stared at the tablecloth.

"Now!" Adam shouted.

Ian muttered an apology without looking up.

"Go to your room," Adam said, his voice low as he tried to control his temper.

Ian stomped out of the room.

"Adam --" Elizabeth began.

"That's the last straw, Elizabeth. I won't have him treating you like that! I won't tolerate --"

There was a scream from the foyer. Elizabeth jumped to her feet and ran out. When Adam caught up, he saw her cradling the crying Kellen at the foot of the staircase while the nanny hovered nearby.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Bryant," the nanny said. "I didn't see him coming in time. I was bringing Kellen in to say good night and the lad went by us like the wind, knocking right into her, then he tore up the stairs. I'm so sorry..."

"It's all right, Hildie," Elizabeth said. "It wasn't your fault. You go on up. I'll put Kellen to bed."

Hildie left, and Adam watched Elizabeth comfort Kellen, trying to control himself. "I can't take his att.i.tude anymore, Elizabeth," Adam said. "The boy needs to be disciplined. I'm going to look into sending him to a military school."

Elizabeth looked at him over Kellen's head. "Don't send him away, Adam. That's the last thing he needs right now. He needs you. Can't you see that?"

Adam was taken aback by her accusatory tone. "Elizabeth, you know what it's like at work now. I don't have time to take an extra breath. Besides, he's not a child anymore, he's nearly fifteen. For G.o.d's sake, I was on my own when I was his age."

"He needs his father, Adam," she said.

Adam threw up his hands. "I try! I spend time with him. He doesn't even care anymore. He doesn't care that I work hard so he can have what I didn't. I don't want him to ever have to struggle like I did or have people look down on him, G.o.dd.a.m.n it."

Elizabeth looked up at him sharply. "Please, not in front of the baby." She dabbed at Kellen's eyes with the hem of her dress. "I understand what you're saying, Adam, but Ian doesn't. All he knows is that you're not here."

Adam ran his hand over his face. He hated himself for arguing with Elizabeth. These were the first sharp words they had ever spoken to each other.

Elizabeth rose, taking Kellen's hand. "Why don't we go on up to bed?"

"No!" Kellen said. "I don't want to go up there. I want to stay down here with you and Daddy." She tried to make her face into a defiant frown but her chin was quivering.

"Ever since that bad thunderstorm last week, she's been a handful to get to bed," she said to Adam under her breath. She gave him a conciliatory smile. "I'll just be a minute or two, and then we can have our coffee together." She paused. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to tell you how to raise your son."

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Adam said. He leaned down to give Kellen a hug then started toward the dining room. But Elizabeth's soft voice made him pause and look back. She was standing at the bottom of the staircase holding Kellen's hand, trying to coax Kellen upstairs.

"I'll tell you a story in bed," Elizabeth said.

"Tell it to me down here," Kellen said.

Elizabeth paused thoughtfully. "Once upon a time," she began, "there was a little girl who was always afraid to go upstairs to bed." She pointed to the small carved frowning face at the bottom of the bal.u.s.trade. "Every night, she'd make her face into a big frown just like this, just like that one on your face right now."

Kellen suppressed a giggle, determined to be stubborn.

"Then one day," Elizabeth went on, "an evil fairy froze her face in a frown and turned her into wood, trapping her inside the staircase."

Kellen looked up at Elizabeth and down at the carved face.

"The little girl cried so much that finally a good fairy heard her," Elizabeth went on. "She told the little girl that she could break the spell by being brave and climbing the stairs. But she also had to smile because smiles are very powerful weapons against evil spells."

Kellen was listening. So was Adam.

"It was hard but the little girl made a tiny smile," Elizabeth said, "and she began to float up the stairs."

Now, Elizabeth was gently leading Kellen up the stairs, pointing out the little carved faces as she went. "The bigger her smile became, the farther up the stairs she floated. Until there she was, at the top of the stairs, free at last from the evil spell."

Elizabeth and Kellen were now standing on the landing. Kellen was staring at the topmost carved face, which was turned up in a toothy smile. She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth's legs.

"Oh, Mommy, that's silly," she said.

"Yes, it is," Elizabeth said, laughing. She glanced down and saw Adam staring up.

Kellen looked down, too. "Good night, Daddy," she said. "I'm going to bed now, by myself."

"Good night, Lil'bit," he said softly. He watched them until they were out of his sight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

During the next few months, Ian seemed to calm down, and Adam put aside his plan for a military school. But just before Ian's sixteenth birthday, Adam received a call from the man who ran the stable where Ian's horse was boarded. Ian had been seen mistreating the horse. Adam sold the horse and ordered Ian to stay in the house.

"I don't know what to do with him, Josh," Adam said. They were sitting in Adam's office. It was early evening, and outside the August sky was metamorphosing into a blazing sunset. Adam morosely studied the sky for a moment.

"Maybe he's just trying to get your attention," Josh said.

"He's not a baby anymore. I refuse to treat him like one." Adam leaned back in his chair. "How come your kid never gives you any trouble?"

Josh smiled. "Stephen's only seven. Give him time."

"I've got to find a way to get through to him," Adam said. "Lilith is coming home soon. He'll be legally old enough to decide who he wants to live with. Despite his behavior, I just can't let him go back to her."

"Maybe Ian needs something to keep him steady. Maybe he needs to work."

Adam smiled ruefully.

"What's so funny?"

"I've spent my life working my a.s.s off so my kids wouldn't need a thing. And you're telling me Ian should get a job."

Josh rose. "I've got to get home." He paused at the door. "What I said about a job, what I mean is that maybe Ian just needs something to really care about."

Adam nodded absently. "Yeah, maybe. See you tomorrow."

A week later, the war ended. The city went wild in a frenzy of celebration. People wandered the streets, singing and hugging. Car horns blared. Bells pealed. In the Times newsroom, Adam drank a paper cup of champagne with his staff. Then everyone went back to work, covering the story. By night, the story had developed a sinister angle. Mobs of drunken men were roaming Market Street. Fighting broke out. Windows were smashed, and stores were looted.

As the violence grew through the night, reports of raping filtered in. Around midnight, Elizabeth called Adam, sounding distraught. Ian had been arrested.

Adam drove quickly to the police station. He was told that Ian had been apprehended as part of a gang. When it was discovered Ian was a minor, the police had called the Bryant home. The sergeant on duty watched disdainfully as Adam signed for Ian's release.

"I can't charge him with anything, Mr. Bryant," he said. "But you should know this was a bad bunch your son was with, older men, including two men we booked on rape charges. You'd best keep an eye on the company your son keeps."

Adam drew in a breath when he saw Ian emerge, dirty and bruised. They were silent as they rode home in the car. Adam clenched the steering wheel, trying to control his surge of anger and disappointment. Finally, he pulled the car to a halt and turned toward Ian.

"What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you?" he said. "Why did you do this?"

Ian stared out the windshield.

"Answer me!"

Ian flinched but did not turn toward Adam. "I don't know," he said.

Adam stared at Ian's profile. He felt an urge to strike Ian rise inside him, anything to get a response. Appalled at his own anger, he shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he felt only slightly calmer.

"Did you rape anyone?" he asked.

"No. I just watched."

Adam glanced over at Ian, who was still staring straight ahead.

"I don't understand," Adam said, almost in a whisper. "Maybe you can help me. Make me understand what you are doing. I give you everything. I give you the best. How do you repay me? You go out and --"

Ian turned toward him. "I didn't do anything to you. That's all you care about. How it looks to everyone for your precious son to get thrown in jail. It sure puts a dent in your plan to be a big shot, huh? Well, I don't care about any of that s.h.i.t. I don't care about anything."

Adam could only stare at Ian. Then he started the car and began to drive slowly home. He glanced over at Ian. The muscles of his handsome face were clenched in agitation, and his dark eyes were glittering.

How did he get so angry, Adam thought, how did he get so empty?

The ache in his chest was the pain of sad realization. His son was not simply mean-spirited or apathetic. He was emotionless. He had no pa.s.sion. He really didn't care about anything, not even himself. Adam thought back to his talk with Josh. What had he said? That Ian needed something to care about? But what? Nothing seemed to move him.

The next morning, Adam woke Ian early and told him to put on a suit and tie. Sullenly, Ian did as he was told. He didn't say a word as he rode with Adam to the Times building. He didn't speak as Adam led him up to the newsroom. Ian simply walked by Adam's side, his bruised face inscrutable. Just inside the newsroom, they paused. Faces looked up at them with intense curiosity.

Adam scanned the busy newsroom. Ian stood, hands in his pockets, staring at the linoleum.

"This is where you'll start," Adam said.

Ian looked up in surprise. "Start what?"

"To learn."

A woman brushed by them and looked back over her shoulder. Ian tried to hide his embarra.s.sment.

"Ian, listen to me," Adam said. "This place is very important to me. I built it. I care about it. It is my...my pa.s.sion." He paused, feeling awkward. "I want you to care about it, too. You're going to run it someday. I'd always hoped you would."

Ian looked out over the large room. It bustled with seemingly random activity and was filled with strange faces and an odd, dry smell of smoke, dust, ink, and paper. Slowly, from somewhere in his memory, a picture of himself as a boy sitting in a similar office with Adam drifted up to his consciousness. Watching his father shave, a parade at the bridge. He couldn't remember much else, other than a vague feeling of security.

He turned to Adam. "I'll try," he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.