by Joani Ascher
Thousands of questions formed in Jane’s mind, but she remained silent. Most of them were answered when she saw the girl who was Lloyd’s sister.
Chapter Six
She was plump, Jane could tell, even sitting down. But far more noticeable was her face. She had a small head, although her forehead was broad, and upward-slanting eyes. Her bottom lids bulged out on either side of her small, flat nose. She looked more like the other people in the room than like her brother Lloyd.
It was hard to say how old she was. She was dressed neatly in a skirt and blouse, but Jane noticed by the way it draped on the floor that her hemline was much longer than was fashionable. Her hair was as black as Lloyd’s but thin, and was pulled back at her short neck into a straggly braid, making her small ears seem to stick out.
She was what Jane had heard called mongoloid.
“Hello, Emma,” Lloyd said, softly. He took off his jacket and covered the package with it, setting both on a chair before going to stand beside the young woman and wait for her to recognize him.
Her face brightened when she saw her brother. “Loy!” she shouted, her open mouth revealing several lost teeth, and she stood up awkwardly.
She waddled to her brother and threw her arms around him, which required her to stretch, since she was several inches below five feet. She pulled Lloyd’s face close to her own with her tiny hands and planted a sloppy kiss on his nose.
Then she saw Jane. A puzzled look came across her face. “Emma,” said Lloyd. “This is my friend Jane. She would like to meet you.”
Emma smiled back at Jane. “Outside,” she said.
Lloyd laughed. “You always want one thing.” He linked elbows with his sister and headed for the door. Reaching back with his free hand, he took hold of Jane’s.
Jane admired the tender way Lloyd took care of Emma’s feelings and realized it was similar to the way he regarded Olivia’s. It warmed Jane’s heart. But she was puzzled by the fact that, until this day, he had never mentioned a sister.
Emma led them along a sunny path behind the old mansion, among beds of flowers and several fountains. Lloyd explained that he had, after much searching and disappointment, finally found this place for his sister, which was the very best facility of its kind in the Northeast. He had moved down from Boston to be closer to her, giving up a good job in a large accounting firm.
“But now I’m so glad I did,” he added, looking over at Jane as she walked among the flowers bordering the path. “Not only is Emma well cared for, clean and properly fed, but she is also stimulated.” A look of grief passed over his face. “Some of those other places were worse than a zoo. She was tied to her bed in one, living in her own filth. I couldn’t stand it. So I searched and searched. I couldn’t let my mother and stepfather down.”
He told Jane about his parents, their joy when one day, unexpectedly, years after they married and had Lloyd, they found out that Lloyd’s thirty-six-year-old mother was expecting. But that was followed by despair when the doctors told them they must institutionalize Emma. “Can you imagine?” Lloyd asked. “On the day their daughter was born they were told to put her away. My mother was devastated.” He frowned. “I still remember her crying. One of the doctors who came to see her even suggested they withhold food. He wanted to let my baby sister die.”
Jane had heard of such things. One of the woman down the block had given birth to a baby like that. The midwife had told her to put it in a home, and the woman had done so.
“My mother refused,” Lloyd continued. “She kept Emma with her always, until she died. My stepfather couldn’t handle her alone, and my search began. But he died before I found this place.”
There were many people like Emma on the grounds. They seemed happy, walking in the sun, some with nurses pushing them in wheelchairs, and a few with canes.
“This must be so expensive,” said Jane. She felt uncomfortable mentioning it, but could not help wondering.
Lloyd sighed. “It is. That’s why I can’t afford my own car, or a house, or, at this time, a wife.” He turned to her. “And that truly breaks my heart.”
Emma stopped, and they caught up with her. She seemed to be breathing heavily. “Do you want to go back?” Lloyd asked, his voice full of concern.
The girl nodded. Lloyd let her lean against him as he guided her back to the building. They took her to her room and got her settled. While Lloyd went back to the day room for his jacket and the package, Emma lay down and rested. Jane looked around and noticed pictures of Lloyd and two older people, possibly their parents, on the nightstand.
“Those people in the picture look very happy,” said Jane.
Following her gaze, Emma turned and picked up the picture frame. “Our parents. But they died.”
“Mine died too,” said Jane.
Emma’s breathing seemed to be better when Lloyd came back. “We have to leave now,” he said. “But first, I wanted to give you your birthday present.”
Emma’s eyes lit up. “Happy birthday to me?”
“Yes,” said Lloyd. “Happy nineteenth birthday, Emma.”
Nineteen. Jane realized that this little girl, wearing Mary Janes and ankle socks, was older than Olivia.
Lloyd uncovered a brightly wrapped package and handed it to Emma. She tore into it, leaving bits of paper all over the floor, and pulled out a new hairbrush and tortoiseshell comb.
“They’re beautiful,” said Emma. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jane, will you comb my hair for me?”
“I’d be happy to,” said Jane. Lloyd beamed, and Jane felt she had passed an important test. His sister liked and accepted her.
When Jane was finished, Lloyd laid the brush and comb on Emma’s nightstand. “You look beautiful, Emma,” he said. “But we have to go now. I’ll come see you again in a few weeks.”
Emma’s eyes filled with tears, and a nurse had to hold her hand while Jane and Lloyd left. They turned to wave, and after a few seconds, Emma gave a halfhearted wave. Then she ran her hand over her newly combed hair and smiled.
Jane’s mind reeled on their way back to the parking lot. Had Lloyd said marriage was out of the question? What about their confessions of love? Or did it just mean they would have to wait a long time? That was all right with her. She wanted to wait until after Olivia finished college anyway.
When they got back to the car, they found Olivia surrounded by a group of young men. They were the brothers of patients, they explained, and were letting their parents, who had strong-armed them into coming, visit with their siblings alone. If Olivia was going to visit regularly, they said, their own attendance would undoubtedly improve. Jane laughed all the way down the long driveway to the main road.
She suddenly felt euphoric. Even the surprise and sadness she would have expected to feel on finding out about Lloyd’s poor sister and parents made her feel more love for him. She wanted to keep that feeling in her heart forever.
Turning, she stole a glance at Olivia. She truly was breathtaking. Before long she would fall in love and marry. Someday, Jane thought, she and Olivia would be the mothers of beautiful children and they would live near each other and their children would be friends. Warmth and love would fill their lives. Pearl’s predictions notwithstanding, Jane would also have her own great love. She would never settle for less.
Luckily, she had already found him.
She was so busy imagining her life, one she would share with Lloyd, she didn’t realize he was speaking to her until he tapped her on her arm and asked if she had heard him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess my mind was wandering.”
“I’m glad you like my sister,” said Lloyd. “Some people might not.”
“She’s very sweet. I’m sure the next time we visit, Olivia will enjoy meeting her.”
Lloyd was silent for a bit. His mind seemed to be elsewhere.
“It seems you have a lot on your mind,” Jane observed.
“I
have some things pending,” said Lloyd, his eyes riveted on the road in front of him. “I’m just wondering how they’ll work out. And how I’ll feel about it.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
Lloyd turned to her for a moment. “Not yet. When I can.” His serious expression was soon displaced by a jovial grin and he broke out into a song, which he sang at the top of his lungs as he drove them home. “When you wish upon a star…”
****
Jane was surprised when Lloyd phoned that evening. He spoke so fast, she had trouble understanding him.
“Could you repeat that?” she asked.
“I said I have to go away.”
“For how long?”
“I didn’t really expect it,” he said, sounding very excited. “I mean it didn’t look like it would happen, not for a while. I had practically given up…”
“Lloyd,” said Jane, catching his enthusiasm. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”
He did not answer her.
“Lloyd? Can you hear me?”
“Yes. I can’t explain. Look, I’m sorry, but I have to pack. I just wanted you to understand. I’ll be gone for a while, but I will find a way to get back, as soon as possible, so we can be together.”
Jane was too upset to speak. She gripped the phone, unable to think. “When will you get back?”
“It won’t be that long. I promise. But I had to let you know the moment I heard. I wouldn’t want you or Olivia,” Lloyd added softly, “to worry about me.”
Jane loved him even more for his consideration. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, fighting tears.
His voice was husky when he responded. “I’ll miss you too.”
****
Two weeks passed, during which Jane heard nothing from Lloyd, not even a postcard. That was so like him, to go away and not write, that she did not think much of it at first. She barely noticed at all, because she was so sick, at least early in the day. It was difficult for her to get out of bed in the mornings, nearly impossible to get to work on time.
She told herself it was nothing. But she went to see a doctor, not Dr. Mann, the family physician, but one in Greenwich Village.
“I’m not your usual doctor, Mrs. Peters,” said Dr. James.
“I, uh, my doctor is away,” Jane stammered, flustered that she had claimed she was married and had given her mother’s maiden name as her own.
“I see. Well, let’s get on with your examination.” Jane thought she would die of pain and embarrassment while she lay on the examining table. “How long have you been married?”
Jane bit her lip. “What do you mean?”
“Your hymen has not been fully broken,” the doctor said. “But I think I can see why you are feeling sick. We’ll just do a test to confirm.”
On Friday afternoon, after work, she went back to the doctor and he told her she was with child. She could expect her baby to arrive with spring, the next year.
Jane wept at the news. “I take it your husband won’t be happy to hear about this,” Dr. James said.
“It’s not possible,” she argued. “We didn’t…”
“If I could tell you how often I’ve heard that,” said the doctor kindly. “But the fact remains, you are pregnant, and you aren’t married, are you?”
Jane shook her head. “But we will be, when he comes back to town.”
Dr. James sighed. “I can’t in good conscience recommend an abortion,” he said, “although I may know of a colleague who could help you. It’s dangerous, though. Maybe you should consider giving the baby up for adoption.”
“No, Doctor,” Jane said firmly. “My fiancé will be back soon, and we’ll be married. He loves me.” She stood up to go. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you will. Take care of yourself until our next visit. Good luck.”
Although she put up a brave front, Jane stumbled out of the doctor’s office and onto the street. It seemed to have suddenly changed, becoming more dirty, more frightening. The people she passed seemed to be staring, to know her secret, her shame.
She felt an enormous pressure building inside her. What had she done? What kind of situation was this for a respectable person? She had to get in touch with Lloyd, she knew, but she had no way to do it. More questions filled her head. What if someone found out? What if Mr. Weaver found out? What if she told Lloyd and he still said they could not marry? What then? What on earth was she going to do? And how would she tell Olivia?
Making a supreme effort not to collapse in the street and weep, she kept walking downtown.
She knew she couldn’t do what the doctor had mentioned. She would not try to find someone to give her an abortion. She’d heard about it once from a waitress. The woman had been crying one day, and confided in Jane that her sister had found herself in the family way without a husband, and had gone to a doctor who said he could fix her up. But something had gone wrong, and her sister had died. Even if Jane hadn’t heard that story, she knew she could not go to a person like that. She knew she could never kill her baby. Even though she had just learned of the baby’s existence, it seemed as if she had known for a while. Maybe that was why she didn’t go to see Doctor Mann when she was unwell. It was time for honesty, at least with herself. She had known. And this baby was a part of her.
More memories came to her as she walked. One of Mrs. McGill’s nieces had been sent away one year. When she returned, she told Jane she had been to visit another aunt in Maine. Jane noticed she had lost a bit of weight while she was away and surmised she had gone to have a baby and had given it up.
That was another option Jane immediately rejected.
So it was all up to her. She chastised herself for worrying that Lloyd would not come back to marry her. Where was her faith and trust? But remembering Lloyd’s problem with marrying, that he did not have enough money because of having to pay for his sister’s care, she knew she had to find a way for them to be able to afford to be together, with benefit of clergy.
Over the next week, she studied the stock portfolios and projections closely, more than ever before and certainly more than was required by her secretarial duties, looking for wise investments to help maximize her own worth. She wanted to be able to show Lloyd, when she broke the news to him, that marrying her would not be such a sacrifice. Even though it went against everything she had been told, and the lessons of the stock market crash, Jane bought on wide margin. The stock market had been rising in May, June, and July, and there seemed to be no reason for that to change. But in order to hide her problem, she bought through another brokerage. She did not want Mr. Weaver asking her any questions.
Yet he often astonished her with his thoughtfulness. Several times, when Jane was feeling ill, he had offered to let her go home, but each time she refused.
The first time, he had gone out of the office and returned with a paper bag. “Open it,” he said.
Jane found a thick paper cup with hot tea in it. “Drink it,” he urged. “It’ll make you feel better.”
She had dutifully swallowed the tea. “It really helped,” she told him. “Thank you. My influenza symptoms aren’t bothering me now.”
The next day he brought her chicken soup. “One of my Jewish clients recommended it,” he said. “I hope it helps.”
She found him staring at her thoughtfully, even after she started feeling better. She had to refuse his suggestion to resume their Wednesday dinners, though, claiming Olivia needed her at home, because she was just too tired after work to go out. Luckily, he never asked her any questions, since she did not have any answers to give him. He would never think she could have become pregnant, and she would never tell him. It was so embarrassing, because she was not married yet. So she kept to herself, even more than before, especially when Mr. Weaver was in her part of the office. Sometimes, when she had turned away, she peeked back and saw him frowning. That puzzled her, but she had so much on her mind she didn’t dwell on it.
; ****
Prescott worried about Jane. The girl who had been so open a few months ago had withdrawn into herself. She never met his eye, and she seemed pale. He constantly worried about her, although she kept saying everything was fine, and he wished there was something he could do to cheer her up. He could not be sure of her reaction, though, and that kept him from trying.
The situation saddened him so that he spent less time in his office, choosing instead to meet clients at his club or theirs. Their dinners and evenings out had stopped in early September when Jane claimed she could not spend the time away from her sister. Prescott told himself that was reasonable, but he was quite unhappy about it. The pain only deepened when, each time he returned to the office, she barely raised her head to acknowledge him.
One day, when he could not hold back anymore, he decided to broach the subject. He came out of his office and made sure no one was waiting in the hall to see him, then asked Jane if he could speak to her. She agreed, picking up her steno pad. “You won’t need that,” he said, causing her to look at him in alarm.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No. It’s just that there’s something I would like to discuss with you, but I’m not sure how to go about it.”
Jane sat silently and waited for him to speak. He stroked his mustache, finding himself completely tongue-tied, but managed to stutter out that he regarded her highly.
“I try to do a good job,” she said.
“You do. But it’s more than that. I think you are a wonderful person.”
Jane burst into tears and asked to be excused. He was left perplexed.
For business reasons, Prescott had to accept invitations to various social gatherings. Anne Canfield sought him out on several of those occasions, and he found himself enjoying his conversations with her more than any of the other people who so often attended those functions. There was an underlying sadness to her, he realized, which did not match her spendthrift and carefree reputation. One night she asked him about Jane, whom he often spoke of with her.
“Oh, she’s fine,” Prescott replied. “Although I worry about her sometimes.”