by Diane Hoh
Elizabeth stood frozen, unwillingly to believe what she was seeing. When she could move again, she ran to her mother’s side.
“Call Dr. Cooper,” Nola whispered with great effort. “Fenton Cooper, call him. Hurry!” Then she toppled sideways, landing in Elizabeth’s arms.
At the hospital, it seemed to Elizabeth hours, even days, before Dr. Cooper emerged from the emergency room’s swinging doors to approach Elizabeth. She was sitting alone on a hard wooden bench in the hallway. The doctor was a handsome man, tall and authoritative, his dark hair graying at the temples. His expression was grim.
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. The ride in the ambulance had been frightening, the suspense while waiting for a diagnosis nerve-wracking. Unable to reach Max by telephone, she had asked Cook to keep calling his number until he answered. Cook hated the telephone, and Elizabeth was afraid she wouldn’t do as asked. And now she had to hear what the grim-faced doctor had to say all by herself, instead of having Max at her side. “Is my mother all right?”
“She’s doing as well as can be expected.” Dr. Cooper motioned Elizabeth to return to the bench, then sat down beside her.
What did that mean? “What’s wrong with her? What happened? She was fine one minute, then … was it the heat? She was wearing a hat against the sun, but…”
“Unfortunately,” Dr. Cooper said soberly, “a hat is no protection against heart trouble.”
Elizabeth’s world stopped turning. Every sound in the hospital, every bit of bustling activity among nurses and orderlies, every voiced complaint from emergency room patients awaiting treatment, vanished, disappeared as completely as if Elizabeth had waved a magic wand. She could no longer hear, or speak, or think. The pungent medicinal odor that had been making her head ache was gone. There was nothing left in the hospital but that one phrase: “heart trouble.”
Dr. Cooper cleared his throat.
“My mother doesn’t have heart trouble,” Elizabeth managed, though she had no idea how the words had formed.
“I’m afraid she does.”
Not true. Not … not … not … true! It couldn’t be. Nola had never appeared the slightest bit ill … no, that wasn’t true, either. On the ship, on the Titanic … she had been ill. Briefly. But … that had been seasickness, hadn’t it? Many people had it, even though the trip was as smooth as a glide across glass. Smooth until…
“Is she going to die?”
“Oh, heavens no! I’m sorry if I frightened you, Elizabeth. Her condition is not life-threatening. There is very little treatment, unfortunately, but there are ways to keep her out of harm’s way. You and I,” the doctor said, smiling reassuringly at Elizabeth, “will see to that, won’t we? We’ll make sure she’s well cared for. That’s what Martin would expect of us, don’t you agree?”
“But … but she hasn’t seemed sick,” Elizabeth said. She was struggling to comprehend what Dr. Cooper had just told her. “She has so much energy. All those shopping trips … I get tired long before she does. And her color is good … are you positive, Dr. Cooper? That she has this … this heart trouble?”
He looked a bit miffed. “Of course I’m sure. I wonder,” he added, “if you could tell me what precipitated this spell.”
Elizabeth flushed with guilt. She lowered her eyes, studying the black and white floor tiles. “I … I told her I was going away to college in August. I’d just been accepted and given a scholarship. She … she didn’t like the idea.”
“Well, of course not. My goodness, Elizabeth, she recently lost her husband. And she finds out her daughter intends to desert her? Why would she like the idea?”
Elizabeth ducked her head further, fighting tears.
“Well,” Dr. Cooper said as briskly, patting Elizabeth’s hand in an awkward attempt to console her, “no matter now. But it’s agreed that we’ll have no more talk of you leaving your mother alone in that big house? Your place is, of course, with her.” He shook his head. “I myself don’t hold with higher education for women. Makes them less content to fulfill their duties in the home when they marry, as most of them do. It gives me chills to think of who might be running the country should women be given the vote.”
“Perhaps they would know more about politics,” Elizabeth countered, “if they were better educated.”
Fenton Cooper had no intention of wasting his valuable time arguing with a stubborn young woman. “About your mother … this episode has been very frightening for her. You must reassure her that you’ll remain at her side. That will do more to hasten her speedy recovery than any medicine. The important thing, and I must stress this, is that she not be upset or distressed or worried, do you understand that?”
As guilty as Elizabeth was feeling, she had to ask, “Can’t you fix it? An operation…?”
“Oh, no, my dear. I’m afraid this is a condition your mother will have to live with. With proper care, of course.”
“But she will live? This condition, you said it isn’t life-threatening, didn’t you? Why didn’t this happen when she lost my father? She adored him. That had to be the worst thing she’s ever gone through. You know how agitated she was, for a long time. But she was never ill.”
“That is true. And quite astonishing. I thought so at the time. But your mother is a strong woman, Elizabeth. I believe she tried her best to remain calm for your sake, and it saved her from any cardiac distress. Mothers will do anything to save their children pain. I’ve seen it many times.”
And look how I paid her back, Elizabeth thought, thoroughly ashamed. By planning to leave her.
Standing up, she asked the doctor if she could see her mother. “I won’t upset her, I promise.”
“Yes, of course. You’re just what she needs, I’m sure.” Dr. Cooper stood up and led the way down the hall.
They had arrived at the curtain hiding Nola from view. “Remember, now,” the doctor cautioned, “she is not to be upset in any way. Comfort and reassurance and a daughter’s devotion, that’s the ticket. She will be allowed to go home tomorrow morning, where she must rest and remain calm for the remainder of the week. If all goes well, she should be up and about in no time, leading a normal life again for the most part, and this difficult little episode will be behind both of you.”
Elizabeth frowned. “A normal life? Even shopping and dinners and parties? But I thought…”
“She needn’t be bedridden. As long as she doesn’t become agitated or distressed, she may do as she pleases.”
My father’s philosophy exactly, Elizabeth couldn’t help thinking. Let Nola do as she pleases and don’t let anything upset her. What was it about her mother that led men to pamper her so?
Well, a cold, stern voice in her head answered, right now it’s a heart condition, you spoiled, selfish girl. Your mother fell to her knees in front of you and this is all the compassion you can muster up? Pampered or not, she must have been very frightened.
As I was, Elizabeth thought, remembering that terrible moment in the garden.
Thanking the doctor, who then hurried off to attend to other patients, Elizabeth pulled the curtain aside and entered the emergency room cubicle where her mother lay on a bed, her eyes closed.
Chapter 12
ELIZABETH DELAYED WRITING TO Vassar. All around her in the city, young women were working in office buildings, piloting airplanes, driving automobiles, becoming involved in politics, doing things women had never before done. Once she wrote the letter declining admission, declining the scholarship, her chance of ever having an exciting, interesting life like those other young women would disappear forever.
But if her mother was ill….
“How do you know she’s not faking?” Max asked when Elizabeth telephoned him from the hospital.
“Max!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you have to see how coincidental it is that a perfectly healthy woman collapsed the moment you told her you were going away to college. What better way to keep you from going than to fake an illness?” Max’s voice softened
. “She had to know you would never leave if she was sick. You’re not that kind of daughter.”
“The doctor said she was sick. It’s not as if Nola herself had said it.”
“No, I guess not.” Max didn’t sound convinced. “You’re still going to Vassar, though, aren’t you? You can hire a nurse for Nola if you think she needs one.”
“A nurse? A stranger? Oh, Max, if you could have seen her….” Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat, recalling the sight of her mother on her knees on the stone path. “I honestly thought she was dying. I thought I had killed her. I never should have broken the news to her in that way. Without any preparation. I should have waited for a better time, or dropped little hints that I had applied. Given her some warning.”
“You didn’t know about her heart.”
“Well, I know now.”
Following an uncomfortable pause, Max said, “You’re not going to go to Vassar. I can hear it in your voice.”
From where she stood in the wide, white-walled hallway, Elizabeth had a clear view of her mother’s bed. With the curtain pulled partially aside, she could see that Nola’s eyes were closed, her face in peaceful repose. “Well … not just now. I can’t. How can I? Dr. Cooper said Nola could lead an almost-normal life as long as she doesn’t become upset or agitated. We both know my leaving would agitate her. Look how upset she got when I told her I’d been accepted. Telling her I was actually going, especially now that I know she’s ill, would be the undoing of her. I might just as well push her off a cliff.”
“So, you’re not going,” he repeated. He didn’t add, I always knew you wouldn’t. But Elizabeth heard it, anyway.
“She’s sick, Max. She’s the only parent I have left. Try to understand.”
Though it must have taken effort on his part, he became then the Max she had fallen in love with on the Titanic. “I do understand, Elizabeth. And I know you have to do what you think is right. Maybe … maybe you can go later, when she’s better. Or you could take some classes at CCNY. Your mother wouldn’t mind that, would she, since you wouldn’t be leaving the city?”
Elizabeth felt a rush of warmth for him. He was being so sweet. He wanted her to go to Vassar, he’d always made that clear. And yet here he was, understanding how torn she was feeling, and not pushing her to selfishly abandon her mother … who didn’t even approve of Max.
Katie’s singing career blossomed over the summer months. She sang at parties, lavish weddings, fund-raisers, any celebration that called for entertainment, always in the finest homes, on the grandest estates. The enterprising Flo had raised her fee several times. Each time, Katie feared no one would be willing to pay what she thought of as an astonishing amount of money and her career would end. But that didn’t happen. She opened a bank account, began paying Malachy and Lottie a generous rent for her small room, and bought three new gowns of her own choosing. She was careful to keep them simple in design, mindful that Flo had been right about that.
When she wasn’t singing or rehearsing, she spent time with Bridget. She and John often took the child to the Brooklyn Pier on a hot Saturday afternoon where, although Bridget was too small to swim in the deep water, she took pleasure in watching the young boys in swim trunks boldly diving in. She would count on her fingers when three or four jumped in at the same time, fearful that they wouldn’t all surface. But they always did.
Katie saw less and less of Paddy. When she did see him, he seemed irritable and depressed, and once or twice, she was certain she smelled liquor on his breath. Sensing that the writing of his book for Edmund wasn’t going well, she offered to help.
“And when would you be doin’ that, pray tell?” he asked. They were walking in Manhattan on a sunny, sultry Saturday afternoon, each armed with a wrapper containing a hot, aromatic sweet potato they’d bought from a street vendor. “Seems to me you’ve no time now for anything but singin’ at those fancy affairs of yours.”
Katie recognized envy when she heard it. The good nuns had warned her to steer clear of it. Had they not warned Paddy as well? Not that she blamed him. The tables had turned now. Her dreams were in full flower, while Paddy’s were dying on the vine. He struggled so. She had no idea what was getting in his way. She knew only that something was. She wondered if Edmund knew what it was. Or Belle, who was still tutoring Paddy.
Swallowing the last of her sweet potato, Katie tossed the wrapper in a trash can and said, “I’d find time for you, Paddy. Do you not know that? Always, I would find time. If you want.”
He shook his head. Reaching out to pat the tangled mane of a sway-backed, emaciated horse waiting at the curb for its master to return to the knife-sharpening cart it pulled, he said, “Even now you should be home vocalizin’, rehearsin’ for your engagement tonight. You said so yourself when I called for you at Malachy’s.”
Such a big mouth she had! She hadn’t thought to hurt his feelings when she’d remarked that she should be practicing. But just as Paddy pulled up in front of the rooming-house in a taxicab, Flo had telephoned to remind Katie about her engagement in Larchmont that evening. “Don’t you be gadding all over the city getting yourself all worn out,” she had warned when Katie said Paddy was taking her into Manhattan. “And get back early enough to warm up those pipes so you’ll be in good voice. Going to be some very wealthy, influential people there tonight. You’ll be getting some work lined up for the holiday season, is my guess.”
The warning about practicing had been so fresh in her mind when Katie ran down the steps and joined Paddy in the taxicab, she’d mentioned the conversation to him. She shouldn’t have. It must have sounded to him as if he should think himself fortunate indeed to be in the company of so successful an entertainer.
Which wouldn’t be so paining to him, if he was doing as well at his writing.
Not six months ago it was the other way around, Katie thought as she stopped to look in the window of a music equipment store. A beautiful grand piano was on display. Katie was saving up for a piano of her own, though she had no plans to buy anything as fine as the one in the window. A used one would not be so pricey, and would do nicely once it had been properly tuned. Right now, she had to go across the street to Agnes Murphy’s to use the piano in the front parlor for her rehearsing. Katie didn’t play, but Agnes seemed delighted with the chance to play again.
Agnes’s piano was an old relic and could have used the fine hand of a tuner. Katie wanted her own instrument. And she knew if she ever did return to Ireland, she could take the piano, in spite of its size, right along with her. There had been several of them on the Titanic. Hadn’t she played the one in the third-class common room her own self, while people sang and danced and had a grand time? If steerage had had one piano, second- and third-class decks had probably had more than one. So she wouldn’t have to leave a new piano behind should she decide to make the trip home.
John had volunteered to accompany her on the piano if she bought one for their own roominghouse. He missed playing, he said, as he’d done at school and in the church hall back home. But he didn’t want to spend the money on a piano as he was, he told her, also saving for a ticket home. Saving up his vacation time at the bank, too. Perhaps, he had suggested one night, talking about Ireland, he and Katie might make the trip together?
She had avoided answering him directly by saying, “Oh, sure and you’ll be ready to go long before me. It’ll be a while before I can work up me courage to climb aboard a ship again. If I ever can do that. And besides,” she had added loyally, “I’d best be waitin’ until Paddy’s ready to come along with me. Not that I’m sure he ever will be.” John had made no further comment, but her aunt Lottie had said that night while the two women were drying the dinner dishes, “That boy’s sweet on you, any fool could see it. He’s a fine Irish lad and he’s got himself a good job. You could do worse.”
Shocked, Katie had said, “I thought you was fond of Paddy. Are you turnin’ on him, then?”
Lottie shook her head. “He’s a bright lad
, but he ain’t got a job, Katie, and no prospects for one as far as I can see. And he’d never settle for you supportin’ the both of you, though it seems now like you could. Is he never goin’ to write his book?”
Katie had had no answer for that.
“Do you think you’ll be buyin’ one of them pianos with your singin’ money?” Paddy asked as they moved away from the display window.
“I might.” Katie, happy to be in the noisy, busy city as long as Paddy was at her side, linked an arm through his. She was wearing one of her new dresses, a simple frock of white dotted swiss with pale yellow ribbon threaded through the hobble and the cuffs and neckline. The skirt was so tight, it was fair strangling her legs, and she had to take smaller steps than she was used to, as if her ankles had been chained together. “But I’m also savin’ up for a trip home if I can work up the nerve to climb aboard a ship again. So I mean to be choosy about how much I spend on a piano.”
Even as she spoke, the memory of that awful night came back. She felt the cold. She heard the screams, and she trembled.
Paddy shook his head again. He needed a haircut. Katie wondered why Edmund didn’t see to it. Didn’t Paddy have to look his best when he met all those important people? Maybe it was fine for writers to look like they didn’t think about such ordinary things as haircuts. Or … was Paddy not meeting with important people these days? Had Edmund given up on him? “Don’t know what you’d be goin’ back home for,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ there, nothin’ at all.”
Katie stopped walking. Since their arms were still linked, Paddy had to stop, too. “My family is there, Paddy! Don’t you be callin’ them nothin’.”