Hope's Daughter

by Joani Ascher

  “What are you saying?”

  He spoke softly, but his intensity frightened Jane. “She had a mental problem after Olivia was born. She was fine for a while, but then she grew despondent, and she never slept. She would cry for hours. Your father was very patient with her, and he tried everything—nights on the town, the theater, dancing—but she never snapped out of her despair. She got sicker and sicker, and one day she cut—” He broke off. “They called me, but I couldn’t save her.”

  “That isn’t going to happen to my sister, is it?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

  Dr. Mann nodded. “I hope not. That’s why I’m being so careful with her. But if she doesn’t snap out of this soon, it may become permanent.”

  Jane could not imagine that. And she intended to do everything possible to prevent it.

  “How do you feel?” Jane asked, when she went into her sister’s room.

  “I’m so scared.” Olivia picked at the coverlet. Twitching had become second nature to her. “It’s as if I dread every day. The hair on my body hurts, as if it’s standing on end. I can’t sleep, even though I feel that if I don’t get some rest I will die.”

  “The doctor prescribed some sleeping powders for you,” said Jane. “I’m going to mix it with some milk so you can get some sleep.”

  “I don’t want to be drugged. What if Ellen needs me?”

  “I’ll take care of her.”

  “I’m so lucky you’re here,” said Olivia. “I know I can’t take care of Ellen.”

  “Of course you can. You were wonderful with Z.Z.”

  “But he died.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Jane said, but it was as if Olivia didn’t hear her.

  “Everyone I know dies, or leaves me. My mother, Pearl, Father, little Z.Z.” She burst into tears. “And Horace.” She sobbed so loudly Ellen became restless.

  When she had finally calmed them both down, Jane went to the kitchen, prepared the sleeping powder and milk and a sandwich, and brought them to her sister on a tray.

  But Olivia pushed the sandwich away. “I can’t eat. Nothing tastes good.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jane said, pulling the covers up again, like she had done with Z.Z. “Get some rest now.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning was much better. After a good night’s sleep, Olivia was almost back to her cheerful self.

  “I feel wonderful this morning,” she said, stretching her neck and turning her head from side to side. “As if I’d slept for a week.”

  Jane couldn’t help noticing the ring of grime on Olivia’s neck, and the stale smell of her body. She’d neglected herself lately, not washing nearly as often as she always had. It hurt to see her usually fastidious sister let herself go.

  “I’m going to run you a nice hot bath,” Jane said. “You can relax for as long as you like.”

  Olivia smiled. “That sounds good.”

  While her sister was in the bath, Jane opened the windows in the apartment to air it. It was such a lovely day, more like a day in September than early December, and the breeze and Olivia’s lightheartedness lifted Jane’s mood.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she said when Olivia was dressed. “Doctor Mann said that Ellen can go out now, if there is a warm day. We’ll take her to the park.”

  “But you have to go to work,” Olivia said. “Mr. Dobbin will miss you.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Jane assured her. “He won’t be in this morning anyway.” He had been very mysterious about where he was going, leaving Jane to wonder what he was up to. She had seen his crow’s feet deepen with pleasure, but he could not be persuaded to tell her why.

  She gathered up some of the baby’s diapers, and a blanket to wrap her in. Olivia went into her bedroom and returned with Ellen dressed in a beautiful pink sweater and hat set that Mrs. McGill had knit for her. They went down to the carriage room in the basement, where they had stored the small buggy that Mr. Dobbin had given as a baby gift.

  “I’m so excited about finally using it,” said Olivia. Her eyes burned bright. “This is going to be such fun.”

  They wheeled the baby down the alley and onto the sidewalk. As soon as they reached the street, women stopped them every few feet for a look at the baby.

  “Oh,” exclaimed one, “isn’t she precious? What a beautiful face!”

  Another woman came over to peer into the carriage. She looked critically at Olivia, then at the baby. “She is going to look just like you. Such a sweetheart.”

  It took Jane and Olivia twenty minutes to get two blocks. But with each comment, Jane could see Olivia getting stronger. She herself was bursting with pride that her little niece could garner so much attention. It also brought a tinge of pain, after the averted gazes with Z.Z. Jane pushed that aside and concentrated on the present.

  They walked through the park, watching other mothers with tiny children. They, too, came to check the contents of the carriage. The sun shone, the sky was blue, and Ellen slept peacefully, while Jane told Olivia all about the latest plans for Mr. Dobbin’s business.

  “You would barely recognize the place,” Jane said. “It has changed so much from when you worked there.”

  “Someday I’d like to go see for myself,” Olivia told her. “And maybe we’ll bring Ellen and show her around.”

  “The girls will love it.” Jane looked at her watch and saw it was nearly eleven. “I’ve got to go to work soon. Let’s walk back.”

  Olivia appeared to be happy but tired when they got home. “This was fun. I hope the weather stays clear. Maybe we can do it again.”

  “I’d love to.” She watched as Olivia filled a bottle for the baby. Her whole demeanor was so much better than it had been.

  As Jane let herself out of the apartment, she realized she was not looking forward to going to her accounting job. It was so mundane, even though the numbers were always good, since Mr. Dobbin’s business was booming. He had long ago repaid his original backers double their initial investments. But Jane had no creative part in it, beyond anticipating where the next market would emerge. The actual design of the clothes did not interest her, and she did not arrange financing, or set up lines of credit, Mr. Dobbin did. Jane just kept the books.

  Whenever he spoke of reinvesting the capital, meaning using it for more expansion, all she could think of was the stock market. While it was true the business was ready for more expansion, and an overhaul of the equipment, there was not enough capital yet. It would have to wait.

  Today, though, when she arrived at work, and after the usual information exchange on Olivia’s condition and Ellen’s development, Mr. Dobbin told Jane he had made a decision that would delight her.

  “What is it?”

  “Miss Baldwin,” he said formally, “would you please help my lawyers and me to take this company public?”

  Responding in kind, Jane said, “Mr. Dobbin, I would be delighted.”

  She threw herself into meetings with lawyers, auditors, and accountants, everyone working together to prepare Mr. Dobbin’s business for the sale of shares of stock. Her long ago dream of being a stockbroker on her own, playing with the movers and shakers and showing them she meant business, resurfaced with a vengeance.

  Jane longed to tell Olivia about the progress she was making toward the day when the company would be publicly traded. When she came home one day, full of news of the latest round of meetings, she found Olivia staring at the evening paper.

  “Has something happened?” Jane asked.

  “What?”

  “Olivia, is there something in the newspaper that upset you? You’re as white as the tablecloth.” When she did not answer, Jane grabbed her by the shoulder. “Is Ellen all right?”

  “Ellen?”

  Jane did not explain, she just went into Olivia and Martin’s room and looked at Ellen lying on her back in her crib. She was giggling and playing with her toes.

  “Oh, you little sweetheart,” said Jane, picki
ng her up. “I think you need a diaper change.”

  When the baby was all powdered and changed, Jane brought her into the kitchen. “She seems hungry,” she told Olivia. “When did she have her last bottle?”

  Olivia stood up. “I’ll get her one.” She lit the gas on the stove with a kitchen match and warmed a bottle in a saucepan of water. When it was done, she sprinkled a few drops on her wrist and took Ellen from Jane.

  At first, Jane marveled at how second nature feeding the baby had become. But then she realized that while Olivia went through the motions with Ellen, she never smiled at her, or at all. Jane became alarmed. Her sister was going back inside herself.

  With her busy schedule, Jane sought out the assistance of Mrs. McGill. The landlady kept her eye on Olivia, going up the stairs with her polishing cloth on the banister as if it were the old brass railing. She made excuses, such as needing to check if there was enough milk, or bread, to gain access to the apartment.

  Every evening, when Jane came home, Mrs. McGill filled her in on the day’s events. “He hasn’t been in yet,” she said most times, referring to Martin. Jane’s arrival home became later and later, because of the meetings she had to attend, and she still got there before her brother-in-law. “She’s pretty good today,” Mrs. McGill said, most of the time. Jane felt relieved, since she found herself worrying about Olivia so much when she was away at work. But sometimes Mrs. McGill said, “She’s not so good today,” which filled Jane with guilt over leaving her sister.

  It was late in February of 1949 when the company finally made it to the New York Stock Exchange. There was to be a Champagne reception at Fraunces Tavern.

  Olivia insisted on helping Jane dress for the event, reminding her of the date with Lloyd Hammer for which she’d primped and preened. This would be so different, Jane and Olivia agreed, because now she was truly being herself. The royal blue flannel suit dress Jane had purchased for business meetings, a copy of a Paris New Look design, fit her slim figure perfectly, tight at the waist and flaring to the mid-calf hemline. She wore a new hat with it, and small gold earrings.

  “Promise me you will tell me everything,” Olivia said, looking flushed with happiness for her sister. Her joy added to Jane’s, and it seemed that everything from now on would go well.

  “I promise.”

  It was an easy promise to keep. From the wigged doorman at the restaurant, wearing the uniform of a colonial coachman, to the toasts, the evening was magical.

  Jane recognized several people from her days on Wall Street, among them Prescott Weaver. He looked more handsome than ever, and he raised his glass in a silent toast. She thought about approaching him to politely say hello, and took a few steps in his direction, but was distracted when someone spoke to her. When she turned back, he was gone. A flush washed over her at the thought that she might have spoken to him.

  “Are you feeling overheated?” asked Mr. Smith, one of the lawyers standing nearby.

  “No. Although it is a bit warm in here, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted. “You’ve done a wonderful job. Mr. Dobbin is lucky to have you with him.”

  “He’s a good man to work for,” Jane said. “I’m lucky, too. He was kind enough to tell me to take a vacation. And I am going to do just that.”

  ****

  Prescott laughed at the financier’s joke. He enjoyed coming to the cocktail parties that were becoming prevalent as businesses expanded and entered the market. This was his third one that week, not counting the appearance he had made at the party for Dobbin’s Apparel.

  Jane had looked wonderful that evening, flush with her triumph. Prescott admired the way she handled herself, and her accomplishment had been impressive. He had heard several people speak of her with admiration, as if she were a man. If only he could express his own to her.

  “Did you see what our Jane did last week?” asked a voice.

  Prescott turned and found Anne Canfield Lewis at his elbow, smiling. She had looked so happy ever since her marriage to Sky, and Prescott was reminded once again of what he had missed. “Yes,” he said. “She did a wonderful job. I’m not at all surprised.”

  “I have to admit that I was,” said Anne, a scowl forming between her brows. “She had a lot on her mind, what with Olivia’s troubles.”

  “What’s wrong with Olivia?”

  “She’s had a hard time since the baby came. Jane has been very worried.”

  Prescott felt himself pushed forward as his wife, who had been across the room talking to her old friend and fellow horticulturist Ralph Taggart, came up behind him. Reggie had a way of staking out her property, as if asserting her ownership of him. “Is Prescott boring you with his talk of the ups and downs of the market?” she asked Anne.

  Anne smiled at her. “Not at all. I’ve always found Prescott to be a most interesting conversationalist. But I must not monopolize him. Excuse me.” She nodded and turned to walk away.

  Reggie frowned at Prescott. “I don’t know why she always seeks you out every time you are in the same room. Her husband is as rich as Croesus, yet she never uses you as her stockbroker.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Well, you should. She took so much of Hugh’s money he had to cut back on the business he was giving you.”

  “I think you misunderstood that situation.” Prescott did not elaborate. It had been Jane, his former secretary, who caused the whole divorce, at least in Hugh Canfield’s mind. The punishment had not been unexpected. It was not so bad, since Prescott thought Hugh had been completely wrong. In the years since he first saw Jane’s child, he had made it his business to learn as much as he could about the condition. He had concluded that Hugh was a coward, just as he himself had been in letting Jane’s circumstance come between them. He knew he had not left Jane over the child’s condition but over the child’s existence, but that did not excuse him.

  “Prescott,” Reggie chided. “Don’t look so sad. This is a party, after all.” She waved her Champagne glass around and raised her eyebrows at the waiter.

  “Actually, it’s time to go home. Let me just say goodbye to our hosts.” He quickly did that and steered his inebriated wife to the coat room.

  Once they were in the lobby, they had to stop again for a young man who came over to thank Prescott for recommending him to another broker as a clerk.

  “He was a bright young man but needed a few connections,” Prescott explained after the young man walked away.

  Reggie sniffed. “Like you were.”

  “It seems like a long time ago.”

  “But you didn’t give him a place in your firm.” Her statement was more like a warning.

  “You know I’m saving as much as I can for my seat.” Prescott could not get over her lack of trust in him.

  “I’m not wearing this dress for a second time because I want to, you know.” She frowned, looking embarrassed as Ralph Taggart and his wife Martha, who was wearing the latest evening gown with the pouf Reggie had talked about all week, walked past them to the cloak check room. “I can’t bear it.”

  “Yes, I know.” Prescott was fully aware of Reggie’s sense of deprivation. He also knew she would never miss a chance to rub it in his face.

  ****

  All Martin seemed to be good for these days was taking time off from work to go to the race track. His latest boss had called that morning, long after Martin left for his job, and asked Jane if he was feeling well enough to come in, since an important client was coming. Jane had not known what to say. When she hung up and Olivia asked about it, Jane just said there was a crossed wire, and the call was not for them. She could not bring herself to let Olivia know just how much her husband lied.

  She planned to sit Martin down when she had time to breathe. Her determination built for days, although an opportunity did not readily present itself. So she bided her time, pretending along with Olivia that everything was all right.

  On her way home one evening in mid-March, Jane ran into a rainsto
rm. The streets and subways were flooded, and the conditions caused several delays. By the time she got home, soaked and cranky, Jane was feeling argumentative and ready to take on Martin the minute he came home.

  When she entered the apartment building, Mrs. McGill was not there with her update. Mindful of her dripping coat and the slippery steps, Jane went upstairs as quickly as she could.

  A crowd of neighbors hovered outside her door. Jane pushed her way through and found her sister huddled on the floor, with her arms and legs drawn up to her chest. Mrs. McGill stood beside her, helplessly looking down while holding Ellen.

  “Not a good day,” she mumbled to Jane. “Ever since the family on the next block had the measles quarantine, Olivia has refused to take the baby out. I think the two of them are feeling cooped up.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was screaming. Shrieking like a banshee. I ran up to see what was wrong, and so did everyone else in the building. But when we got here, it was just the two of them. Ellen was crying, so I changed her, but Olivia fell on the floor. She’s been like that since.”

  “Get everyone out,” said Jane, taking Ellen. “And call the doctor.” She put Ellen into her crib and sat down on the floor next to her sister.

  She reached out to put her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. This close to her, Jane could see that her neck was very dirty, as were her clothes.

  “No, go away! I don’t deserve you, or Ellen.” Olivia sobbed, and then sat up, tearing at her blouse until it ripped. Taking a shred of the fabric, she wiped her nose and eyes, and then tore more. “I can’t stand it,” she shouted. Standing, she ran straight across the living room and cried, “I have to get out of here!” There was a sickening thud as she hit the wall. She fell back to the floor unconscious. Blood streamed down her face from her broken nose.