by Nancy Roman
Martin nodded. “I can agree to that. I love these babies. And it was good to see them smile today. I would not want them to grow up to be as miserable as I am.”
“You are not miserable,” I said. “Or if you are, pretend once in a while to not be.”
“Granted,” he said. “Would you like a small whiskey?”
And we drank more than one and we toasted Catherine and Father Christmas. And went to our separate rooms to undress in private and sleep that heavy drink-induced dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 14
We traveled back to Springfield for Christmas.
Father had always maintained that Christmas should be the most religious of holidays, with a sacred emphasis on prayer and very little on gifts. I remember just before Catherine’s wedding receiving a hairbrush with an ebony handle and a very small box of chocolates.
But this Christmas was different. Mother seemed determined to make this holiday jolly and not morose. I never saw such a mass of presents. And a big tree, which we decorated with popcorn and cranberries and stars that Amelia cut out of yellow paper. Jonathan and Charlotte were mesmerized.
That did not mean there were not multiple church services to attend. Including a memorial mass for Catherine, during which Charlotte cried throughout, and Jonathan clambered over the seat and slammed the kneeler up and down relentlessly. Martin and I, trying to contain him, ended up laughing, which was just terrible. Finally, Mother picked up the naughty little boy and carried him out.
I think it was at that moment - when Martin and I laughed aloud in church - that my Father decided on the next necessary step.
The morning after Christmas - it was a Thursday - Father asked me after breakfast to come to his office where Mother and he needed to speak to me. I left Martin with Jonathan and handed Charlotte to Amelia.
I thought - hoped - that perhaps my father had engaged a domestic for Martin and I would be released from my duty in New Haven. I was sad at the thought that I would be away from the children, as I had been with them now for a month, and my attachment was growing. But I knew that the situation could not be maintained.
And indeed, that is how Father started.
“The situation with you in New Haven is unacceptable,” he said. “It is not proper for you to live with a man not your husband.”
“I agree,” I said. “I think we should find a domestic to care for the children, and I will go on to college as planned.”
Father shook his head. “No servant should raise our grandchildren. It is your duty as Catherine’s sister to embrace these children as your own.”
I had thought it worth the try. But I knew where my responsibilities lay. My own ambitions were selfish in the face of this tragedy. “I do love them. I’ll care for them. I can do that for Catherine.”
“But you cannot live in sin,” he said.
I had already worked out a solution to this dilemma, which I had planned to share with Martin on our return to New Haven. But under the circumstances, I presented the plan to my parents now.
“Yes, I agree, it’s difficult for us both. The apartment is very small, and I have no room of my own. But I have been thinking that with Martin’s promotion, we could perhaps move to a bigger space. There are some nice two-family homes very near Martin’s work. I think maybe we could rent an apartment with two bedrooms, and then later, when Martin receives further promotions with more money, we could actually buy one of those two-family houses, and I could live on one floor, and Martin could live on the other… and the children could come to me at breakfast and stay until their father returns from work. I can prepare dinner and then the children can return to Martin for the evening.”
I continued, “Once the children are a bit older, and in school during the day, I think perhaps I might be able to find a teacher’s preparatory course somewhere in the vicinity. There are many colleges in New Haven, and some are considering the admission of women.”
Mother was nodding her head, and I could see that she thought that this might be a plan that could work for the near future.
But Father shook his head. He stood up and turned his back and addressed me while not facing me.
“That will not be satisfactory. You would still be residing in a house with a man who is neither your husband nor your brother. It is immoral.”
“But he is my sister’s husband, so he is my brother!” I exclaimed.
“It is a mortal sin!” he said.
“It is not a sin. I am caring for my dead sister’s children. That is holy, not sinful.”
“There is a solution to this dilemma,” he said, still not facing me. “I think it would be best that you and Martin should marry, and raise the children as your own.”
“No. Never!” I cried. “That is what would be immoral! I cannot take Catherine’s husband as my own!”
I looked to my mother, and she lowered her eyes, but I saw that the tears were already there.
“Martin will just take the children and you will never see them again!” I cried.
And what Father said next was the most stunning of all.
“Martin has already agreed.”
CHAPTER 15
I ran immediately to the bedroom that Martin had shared with the children for the past week - Catherine’s bedroom.
I flung open the door, and Martin was on the floor with Jonathan, playing with a wooden train that had been a Christmas gift. I ran out to the kitchen where I had seen Malcolm, grabbed my brother by the arm, and dragged him to the bedroom.
“Take Jonathan for a few minutes. Get him a piece of pie,” I said, and Malcolm, confused but cooperative, picked up the little boy and carried him off.
“How could you?” I asked as soon as we were alone. “Why? Why did you tell Father that you would marry me?”
Martin sat down at the end of the bed. Catherine’s bed. He shook his head.
“The children need a mother. They like you. You like them.”
“Catherine has been dead for six weeks. Six weeks! And you are willing to remarry? Remarry her own sister?” I cried in frustration. “Did you ever love her at all?”
“Oh my God, Lucinda. I loved her with my whole heart. I think every day that I may not be able to draw another breath without her.”
“Why then would you marry me?”
“What difference does it make? What difference does it make now? What difference can marrying possibly make to me now? All I have is the children and the children need you. They will have a mother. I will provide for them and you.”
“What difference does it make? Maybe it makes no difference to you. What about me? It may make a difference to me… asking me to give up my life to raise your children!”
He looked at me for the first time. Truly looked. He stood. “Oh, Lucinda, I’m so sorry. I was not thinking about anyone but the children. I have no right… your father said I was endangering your soul.”
“What will you do now?” I asked.
Martin shook his head again, as if trying to clear it after a long sleep.
“I don’t know. I should move here, I know. Perhaps your father will take me on at the lumberyard. If not, I can find something. Or…. give the children to your mother, if she will have them.”
He cried then.
“But I can’t,” he sobbed. “I cannot give my children away.”
I took him by the hand and we sat back on the bed, side by side. A mortal sin, I’m sure my father would say. I would say I was offering comfort to my brother.
“Tell me, Martin, what exactly you do in your work that you cannot do here?”
“I am not a toolmaker any longer,” he replied. “Except in the most general sense. I am an engineer. I design parts for airplanes. I help people fly. I helped the brave pilots who fought in the Great War. It was why
I did not go overseas to fight. I was needed here.”
“Mother of God and Holy Cow,” I said, mixing my slang and certainly committing blasphemy.
Martin laughed, but without any humor. “You’ve got that right. But what difference does it make now? The children must come first. I will ask your father to give me a job in the yard. I will do anything.”
We sat silently for quite a while. I took his hand.
I said. “Did you know that my father told me when I was twelve that no one would ever marry me? I believe he may have been wrong.”
“He was.”
CHAPTER 16
The wedding was scheduled immediately. Saturday. Father arranged it all. Monsignor Curran agreed that Martin and I could be married in the church in a private service.
On Friday, I went to Benedict Lumber for the first time in seven weeks. I said my goodbyes to Jolly Jack, who enveloped me in his arms.
“Truth be told, girl, you have been like a daughter to me these last years!” And he cried profuse tears, although to be fair, Jolly Jack cried profuse tears at least several times a week.
I went around to the back of the yard and waited for Peter to come back with the horses. The yard had been transitioning to delivery trucks for the last year - Father had been brought along to the 20th century with Malcolm’s encouragement - but Peter still drove the old wagon with the now-ancient team.
I sat on a bale of hay and shivered, although it was a warm day for the end of December. Forty minutes later I watched him drive in. He didn’t see me in the shadows, so I sat silently while Peter unhitched the horses. He put away the tack, and brushed Zeke and Carthage, cleaned their hooves and fed them two carrots each, all the while cooing to them about being the best creatures in existence.
“You two are the loveliest smartest animals in Springfield. You are the loveliest animals in Massachusetts. You are the loveliest in New England. The loveliest in the whole of the United States of America. In the world. In all the planets.”
“What comes after the Universe?” I asked, jumping up.
Peter laughed. He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised or embarrassed by his effusion.
“The Heavens!” he answered.
He led Zeke to his stall, and I took Carthage and led him to his.
“It’s so good to see you, Lucinda,” said Peter. “I didn’t even know that I missed you until you are in front of me and then I think to myself, ‘Now the world is straight!’”
“I’m back, but it is only to say goodbye.”
“Are you off to school then?” he asked. “Off to write about injustices and dirty dealings? To save the universe?”
“No. I am off to save a family.”
“Catherine’s, I expect,” Peter said.
“Yes, Catherine’s. Mine now, soon. It has been decided that I will raise her children. I’m to be married to Martin.” I added, “Tomorrow.”
Peter spun around to face me. “Jesus, Lucy!”
“Don’t swear, Peter!”
“It’s so fast. And you’re so young… what are you now, fifteen?”
“Seventeen.”
“Well, if I knew you were ancient I would have married you myself!”
“Very funny,” I said.
He turned and gave old Zeke another carrot. “Seriously, Lucinda, I had a mind to marry you.”
“You did? Oh, Peter, that’s so nice to know.” I sat down on an upturned bucket. “I would have made you miserable.”
“That’s likely,” he said. “How can you be married so soon? What about the Banns and all?”
“Monsignor got a dispensation from the Bishop. Martin needs to return to Connecticut right away.”
Peter sat down on the packed dirt of the barn floor facing me where I perched on my makeshift chair. He sat so near me that I could feel his breath against my leg. I thought for a moment he would put his head on my knee. I wouldn’t have stopped him.
“I saw Catherine once,” he said. “I was about ten. I think she must have been the age you were when you first came to the yard. She was so lovely it was a minute or more before I could get a breath.”
“Yes. She was beautiful for sure.”
“You look like her, you know.”
“Ha,” I said. “Only to someone with your poor eyesight.”
“I see well enough.”
I couldn’t think of anything to end this conversation. “Her children are as pretty. And they are smart and happy too. They have my heart already.”
“And Martin?” Peter asked. “Does he have your heart?”
I looked away. “He’s a good man.”
“I wish I had married you a year ago,” he said.
“Oh Petey, you would have made a fine husband. And you will. You will find a girl as beautiful as Catherine, who will see your good heart.”
“I will have a farm and seven children. All redheads. They will have so many freckles, the neighbors will call us the Spotted Farm.”
“When you find the girl, I would ask your brothers for advice. Ask Samuel if your girl is smart enough. But ask Richard if she’s beautiful enough.”
“Oh, I may be blind as a bat, Lucinda, but I know for a fact that smart and beautiful are the same thing.”
CHAPTER 17
There was not time to acquire a nice dress for the wedding.
My mother had given me a beautiful dress for Christmas. But it was red, and Father was adamant that red would not be appropriate for the sanctity of a marriage ceremony. He said this without any trace of irony, as if marrying my sister’s widower within two months of her death was perfectly proper and even sacred.
Mother had me try on her own wedding gown, which had been packed in tissue for the past twenty-seven years. It was quite pretty and it would have been a fine sentimentality, but it had yellowed. And it was two inches short. But it was a lovely gesture and I was tempted to wear it anyway.
But in the end, I wore my pale rose dress that Mother had made me for Charlotte’s christening two years before. Then I was Charlotte’s godmother. Now I was to be her mother. So it was fitting, I suppose.
There was no procession to the Church. No violinist. Not even a bouquet. At the last moment, Mother had realized this and wanted Malcolm to run out and buy flowers, but I told him that I was fine, and he should not ruin his good shoes running out in the slushy half-frozen rain.
Mother gave me her best pearls. “And you must keep them,” she said. “It is my wedding gift to you.”
A hired automobile drove us to the church.
I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, just like any other bride. To my surprise, an organ started up, and played a solemn Abide With Me.
Mother walked in the processional on Malcolm’s arm. Amelia had Jonathan and Charlotte by the hand.
Martin waited at the altar with the Monsignor. Martin wore his best suit. It was the suit he also wore to bury our Catherine. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t really there anyway.
As Monsignor Curran blessed our marriage, he told us, “This marriage is a product of tragedy. But you are blessed for loving the children more than yourselves. So although this marriage starts in tragedy, I believe the Lord will ensure that it grows into love.”
Martin put a ring on my finger - to this day I do not know where he came by this ring, but I suspect my Father bought it. He kissed me lightly at the priest’s encouragement, and managed to smile.
CHAPTER 18
We had a light lunch at my parent’s home that was no longer my home. Ham left over from Christmas dinner with cheese and apples. My mother had somehow produced a pretty cake, and the babies were joyful.
I packed a small trunk, as I didn’t think there would be room in Martin’s apartment for too many of my possessions. Catherine’s clothe
s still hung in his wardrobe, and I could neither wear them nor throw them away. I would wait until Martin decided on his own to dispose of them.
Because of the trunk and the many Christmas presents the children received, we did not take the train back to New Haven, but instead, my father sent Malcolm out to fetch the car that had brought us to the church.
The icy rain had turned to snow, and the combination made for slippery, treacherous roads. The driver crawled through the streets, and we watched towns pass by us at a pace that seemed we could have improved upon by walking. I worried that my trunk, affixed to the back of the motorcar, might not be waterproof enough, and the few things I brought might be ruined.
“They’ll be fine,” Martin reassured me. “Everything will be fine.”
But it was cold in the car and the children were tired and cranky. I felt near to tears, and knew I was not the only one. Martin took Charlotte in his lap and buttoned her up inside his coat, giving her a cozy hideaway and the warmth of his body. I took Jonathan in my own lap and let him wear my beaver hat. He could see his reflection in the glass, and made faces at himself, and so we all felt a bit better.
We arrived in New Haven well after midnight. We took the children up immediately, and Martin and the driver made two trips with the baggage. I worried about the poor man driving back so late in such poor weather, and offered to let him stay the night, though I had no idea where we would put him.
“I have a cousin just six blocks from here,” he said. “And he owns a drinking establishment, so I will recover quite nicely from the trip.” Martin gave him a generous tip to supplement what Father had paid him. “Have a few on us,” he said, “And Happy Christmas.”
I put Jonathan down in his crib in the clothes he was wearing, since he was fast asleep and deserved to stay so. I changed Charlotte out of her soiled diaper and dressed her in her heaviest flannel nightgown and warm booties. She insisted she was not sleepy and sat in her crib sucking her thumb. Soon, though, she let herself fall backward and I covered her sweet sleeping form.