Rules Get Broken

by John Herbert

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Loretta,” I began. “Was your train ride okay?”

  “Oh, it was fine,” she said with a warm laugh. “Very fine.”

  “My car’s parked across the street,” I said as I started to lead her away from the station house doors. “I thought we’d drive out to Huntington first, which is where I live, so you can see our house. Is that all right?”

  “I’d certainly like to do that before I go back to the city tonight, Mr. Herbert,” Loretta answered softly, “but perhaps I could meet the children first?”

  I smiled, and I tried not to jump to any conclusions, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Loretta was more interested in meeting my children than in seeing where she might be living.

  “That’s fine with me, Loretta,” I replied. “We’ll go over to my parents’ house first—that’s where the children and I are staying—and I’ll introduce you to Jennie and John. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll go out to Huntington, and I’ll show you our house.”

  We got into my car, and I pulled out of the parking lot, turned right onto Railroad Avenue and continued up Railroad to Post Avenue, reaching Post just as the light turned red. As I waited for traffic to allow me to make a right turn, I asked Loretta how long she’d been out of work.

  “Really only today,” she replied. “Yesterday was my last day with the family I’ve been with for the last two years.”

  “You didn’t waste any time looking for a new position, did you? Not even one day off.”

  “I’m not a wealthy person, Mr. Herbert. If I don’t work, I can’t afford my rent. And if I can’t afford my rent, I lose my apartment, which is really all I have.”

  “I see. I gather you live alone?”

  “I do, yes.”

  The light changed to green, and I turned onto Post heading north through the village of Westbury.

  “But you’re married, yes?” I asked.

  Loretta laughed. “Oh, yes, I’m married. I just don’t live with my husband anymore.”

  “Where does your husband live?”

  “He’s in Jamaica. Where he’s been ever since I left over thirty years ago to go to England to make a better life for my children and me. He was quite happy with the life we had, and he made it clear to me that if I had the notion to go to England, I would have to go without him. So I did.” She gave a sigh and lifted her head slightly higher, as if in defiance of the man she’d left behind so long ago.

  “So you were born in Jamaica and then left Jamaica for England,” I repeated. “How long did you live in England?”

  “Almost twenty years.”

  “Well, that explains your English accent, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  “Did you work as a nanny all that time?”

  “Yes. And now for ten years in the United States.”

  “Elaine said you have three children. Is that right?”

  “Yes. One daughter and two sons. But they’re all grown up now. One of my sons is married and has two children of his own.”

  “Where do your children live?”

  “They live in Jamaica with their daddy. When I came to the United States, they decided to move back to Jamaica to live with him.”

  “Do you ever see them?”

  “My daughter, Jane, yes. She comes to see me once a year. But my two sons are like their father, and they don’t want to leave Jamaica. Not even to visit their mama.” I saw her swallow hard out of the corner of my eye.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, hoping I hadn’t been too inquisitive.

  “Oh no, it’s all right,” she said quietly. “This happens all the time all over the world. You raise them, and sometimes then you lose them. That’s just the way things are.

  “Now, tell me about your children,” she said after a moment of silence.

  “Well, Jennie just turned three in August, and she’s quite the little lady. She loves to get all dressed up, and she loves to talk. Constantly. John’s only nine months old—ten months old as of tomorrow—so he doesn’t have a lot to say yet, but he’s a happy little guy, always smiling, always giggling. Truly a joy to be around.”

  And on I went, with Loretta listening intently, until we turned into my parents’ driveway. I pulled up to the back of the house and parked next to the hemlock hedge that shielded the pool area.

  “Ready?” I asked as we got out of the car.

  “Yes, I am,” Loretta answered, with what appeared to be completely calm confidence.

  We headed towards the walk leading to the pool deck and heard the sounds of children squealing and splashing. As we came around the hedge, I saw my mother sitting on the edge of the pool with John on her knee. Jennie paddled in front of her, inflatable water wings on each arm.

  Jennie saw us first. “Daddy. Watch me swim! Watch me swim!”

  And with that, she stretched out face down in the water and proceeded to splash furiously…and futilely.

  “That’s great, sweetheart,” I yelled. “Just keep at it. You’ll be swimming in no time.”

  My mother watched us as we crossed the pool deck.

  “Mom, this is Loretta Roberts, the lady I told you about this morning.”

  “Hello, Loretta,” my mother said, extending her hand up to Loretta. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Herbert,” Loretta replied. She took my mother’s hand, and then she bent down to get closer to John.

  “And this little man must be John,” she said, tickling him under the chin. John giggled and started swinging his feet in the pool, splashing water on himself and my mother.

  “And I’m Jennie,” Jennie piped up from the base of the pool steps, the swimming demonstration over. “I’m his big sister.”

  “I can see that,” said Loretta. “And what a beautiful little girl you are. Your daddy must be very proud of you.”

  “Our mommy died,” said Jennie, getting right to the heart of the matter.

  “I know,” answered Loretta. “That must make you very sad sometimes.”

  “It does,” Jennie said, as she climbed out of the pool to stand next to me. “Are you going to take care of us?”

  “Well, that depends,” said Loretta. She straightened up and looked intently at both children, who, in turn, looked up equally intently at her.

  “That’s what my grandma said,” Jennie continued.

  “Well, we’ll see, sweetheart,” I interjected, taking Loretta off the hook. “If Mrs. Roberts likes us, maybe she’ll start taking care of us real soon.”

  “I hope so, because I want to go home.”

  “Home is where everyone wants to be, child,” said Loretta.

  An awkward silence followed for several seconds as my mother looked at Jennie, then down at John, then up at me and finally up at Loretta.

  “They’re wonderful children, Loretta. If you and Mr. Herbert come to terms, I hope you’ll take good care of my kids.”

  “If I’m given the chance to, I will, Mrs. Herbert. You can be sure of that.”

  Again an awkward silence.

  “Let me take you out to the house, Loretta,” I suggested, “and we’ll see how you like it.”

  “I’m certain I’m going to like your house, Mr. Herbert,” Loretta replied, looking not at me but at the children. “I’m certain I’ll like it very much. Lord, those are beautiful children,” she then added, shaking her head in mild disbelief.

  “They are. But thank you for saying so. Mom, I’ll see you in a few hours. Okay?”

  My mother nodded, and Jennie stepped back into the pool. I gave my mother a little wave and followed Loretta around the hedge to the car.

  Sixty-Eight

  We arrived at my house a few minutes before four o’clock. As I turned into the driveway, I was struck by how foreign our home had become, even though the house looked the same as when Peg and I had lived there just a few short weeks ago. I was coming back to a place I had known and loved for years, and yet I felt as if I
were arriving at a place that I didn’t know at all.

  I drove to the back of the house and parked in front of the garage. The two of us walked up the steps to the back porch, and I unlocked the door. I stood to one side to let Loretta go in first and then followed her inside.

  The house smelled like it had been closed up for weeks, which of course it had been. The smell was a combination of old house, dust, a hint of stale cooking odor, and dead flowers, thanks to a drooping floral arrangement left on the dinette table weeks ago. Not an unpleasant smell, but a strange, sad one. Not the way the house used to smell.

  Loretta took a few steps into the back hall and then stopped and waited for me while I hooked the screen door. I stepped around her and quickly led her past the kitchen and the dinette, suddenly anxious to end the tour before we’d even begun.

  “Obviously, the kitchen. With a little dinette area, as you can see,” I said over my shoulder without giving her any time to inspect either room.

  Loretta followed me down the center hall and into the front foyer.

  “Dining room’s on your left. Living room and sunroom on your right. There’s a large family room off the sunroom where we watch TV.”

  A wry smile crept across my face. “Where we used to watch TV, I guess I should say.”

  I waited while Loretta looked into each room, and then I started up the stairs to the second floor to show her the children’s rooms and the room that would be hers.

  “And this is Jennie’s room,” I said, turning on the ceiling light.

  “My goodness,” Loretta exclaimed. “How pretty. And so bright and colorful with all the greens and oranges. But look at all those animals in the wallpaper. Tigers and elephants and giraffes and monkeys! Don’t they scare her?”

  “No, not a bit. She loves them all and has a name for every one of them, I think.”

  We stood just inside the doorway while Loretta looked around Jennie’s room, taking in the furniture, the bedspread, the throw pillows, the circus lamp on her dresser, the lime green carpet, the matching plaid drapes and wallpaper, shaking her head with a smile.

  When she was done, I turned off the light and led her down the hall to John’s room. It was much smaller than Jennie’s and contained only his crib and a dresser with a changing table on top of it. But the room was papered in bold blue vertical stripes with matching curtains, and with its blue woodwork and blue ceiling, the room looked every bit like the little man’s room it was.

  “So pretty,” Loretta murmured, shaking her head again. “And what room is that?” she asked, pointing to her left as we started back towards the stairs.

  “That was our bedroom,” I replied. I felt a sharp pang in my chest. “My wife’s and mine. Well…I guess it’s still my bedroom, isn’t it?”

  Loretta gave half a nod, but she made no response.

  “The bathroom’s to your left,” I said when we reached the head of the stairs. “We only have the one full bath, unfortunately. The bathroom downstairs doesn’t have a tub or shower.”

  I started down the stairs, crossed the mid-flight landing and opened the door to a fourth bedroom snuggled under the roof over the east end of the house. I turned on the light and took a few steps into the room.

  “And this is where you’ll be if you come to live with us,” I said.

  Loretta came into the room tentatively and looked around carefully. She opened the closet door and peered into the closet, and then she looked out the window on the north side that offered a full view of the back yard.

  “Oh, this is so very nice, Mr. Herbert. And so close to the children. Almost like I’m part of the family.”

  “You like it?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. Very much.”

  I waited while Loretta continued to inspect the room, and then we headed downstairs. When we reached the base of the stairs, I looked at my watch.

  “You know, it’s twenty after four. Instead of fighting rush hour traffic on the way back to the Westbury station, why don’t I take you to the Huntington station? It’s only a few minutes away, and it’s on the same line as Westbury. Depending on the train schedules, you could be home that much quicker, and I’ll be back at my parents’ house that much sooner.”

  “That will be fine,” Loretta answered. “I bought a round trip ticket for Westbury, but I’m certain the conductor can make the necessary adjustment.”

  I nodded in agreement and led Loretta down the hall to the back door.

  “Your home is beautiful, Mr. Herbert,” Loretta said as I backed out of the driveway. “Mrs. Herbert had wonderful taste.”

  Again I felt that sharp pang in my chest. I waited for a car to pass before backing out into the street and tried to clear the lump in my throat.

  “It was a wonderful house to live in, Loretta,” I said finally. “And yes, Mrs. Herbert did have wonderful taste.”

  Within five minutes we were pulling into the parking area for the Huntington Railroad Station. I found a spot to park just past the main entrance to the station house, and realizing the moment of truth had arrived, I turned in my seat so I could face Loretta.

  “So what do you think, Loretta?” I began. “Would you like to come and live with my children and me?”

  “I would like that very much, Mr. Herbert. Very much indeed.”

  “We didn’t talk about this, but I need you to do the cooking and the laundry for the children and me, as well as general housecleaning. Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course. That’s part of the position.”

  “Great. And your work week is…?”

  “I work six days a week, preferably with Sundays as my day off. I try to leave for Brooklyn between four and five Saturday afternoon, and I return Sunday afternoon around the same time.”

  “I assume you have a driver’s license?”

  Loretta’s face fell. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “I see. Well, we can work around that. Do you have references I can contact?”

  “I do,” Loretta confirmed, and she reached into her pocketbook. “I can give you their names and telephone numbers.”

  I waved my hand in dismissal of her offer. “No, that’s okay. I asked because I know I’m supposed to. I also know I should call these people, but…” I pulled at my ear, wondering if I were doing the right thing. “I like you, and something tells me you’ll take good care of my children. And, quite frankly, I don’t want to risk losing you.”

  “Thank you for saying that,” Loretta said, as she slid her address book back into her pocketbook. “That’s very nice to hear.”

  “When could you start?” I asked.

  “When do you want me to start?”

  “Well…today’s Monday. Would Wednesday, October 1st, be too soon?”

  “Wednesday would be fine. I’ll take a train out from Brooklyn Wednesday morning and take a taxi to the house. I should be at the house by nine-thirty latest. Would that be all right?”

  “That’d be perfect, Loretta.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Herbert. I hope you’ll be satisfied with me.”

  “I’m sure I will be, Loretta. And thank you.”

  She extended her hand.

  The children had a nanny, I had a housekeeper, and soon we’d be home.

  Sixty-Nine

  Coming home sounded wonderful that Monday as I pulled away from the Huntington train station, and in many ways it was. But I quickly learned coming home meant coming back to a world entirely different from the one I had known before.

  Now that I was home, in the house I had once shared with Peg, the memory of Peg and our life together surrounded me like a blanket, and at times I felt like the blanket would suffocate me. Pain came from everywhere and everything.

  From Jennie as I knelt beside her on our first night home when she asked if Mommy could hear her prayers.

  “Of course she can,” I answered without thinking.

  “Does that mean she’ll come home if I ask her to in my prayers?” Jennie asked.
<
br />   “No, sweetheart,” I said, realizing I was on dangerous ground. “Mommy has to stay in heaven with God.”

  “Why, Daddy? Doesn’t God know we need her here?”

  “Yes, Jen. God knows that, but…”

  I stopped mid-sentence, and my eyes filled. I had asked the same question, but I had no answer for her.

  “Hey, you,” I said instead. “It’s late, and you still haven’t said your prayers. So let’s get started. Okay?”

  She nodded and clasped her hands tight against her forehead. “Our Father, who art in heaven…”

  Pain came from John—from just looking at him. He was now ten months old and happy as any baby could be. But when I looked at him, I didn’t see a happy, healthy baby. I saw instead a little boy who would never know the woman who had given him life and who had loved him so much for so short a time. I saw a little boy who would only know his mother through pictures and stories, and I wondered if he would think about her when he grew up, or would he not miss that which he’d never had.

  Pain came from every corner of the house. From Peg’s needlepoints on the walls. From her books in the living room bookcases, from her sewing box, from a salt and pepper shaker she’d bought in Austria. From the pictures and mementos of trips we’d taken, things we’d done. From her closet, still filled with her clothes just as it had been the night she left for the hospital. From the smell of her perfume that clung to her dresses and blouses and suits.

  Pain came from the mail almost every day. From a bill addressed to Peg. Or from a needlepoint catalog she had ordered. Or from her issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Or, worst of all, from a letter to her from someone who didn’t know she had died.

  Pain came from Loretta because she was there and Peg wasn’t. Every morning when I came downstairs and saw her standing at the stove. Every night when I rounded the turn in the driveway and saw her standing at the sink through the kitchen window.

  Pain came every night when the children and Loretta were in bed. When I sat at my desk alone in the family room and listened to the silence of a house asleep.

  Pain came from Peg’s garden, now overgrown, and from her roses, now stalky, with petals pale from lack of food and ragged from hungry insects. From the circus lamp in Jennie’s room that Peg had assembled herself and painted shortly before giving birth to Jen. From the entries in our check register, so many of which reflected an outlook forward-looking and full of hope and yet so ignorant of what was to come. From her cookbooks, her crepe pan, her crystal, her makeup.