Hope's Daughter

by Joani Ascher

  Jane spent hours trying to cajole Mrs. Roche into letting her take Ellen for the day. The old woman was steadfast.

  “Martin wouldn’t like it if I let you take her.”

  “I could take the baby nurse with me,” Jane suggested.

  “No, I don’t think that would work. She won’t go all the way to the hospital with you.”

  “Have you talked to Martin?”

  “He called me for some money just last week.”

  “Did he say anything about Ellen?”

  “He didn’t mention her.”

  “Then how do you know he wouldn’t like it if I took her to see her mother?”

  Mrs. Roche frowned. “Ellen is my granddaughter, and I intend to take the responsibility seriously.”

  “I was thinking,” said Jane. “It would be such a good opportunity for you to have a day to yourself. You could even have your hair done.”

  “I haven’t got money for that. My neighbor has been doing it for me.”

  Jane had noticed that. “It would be my treat.”

  “My nails look horrible too,” said Mrs. Roche.

  Knowing a holdup when she saw one, Jane said, “Have them manicured. You certainly deserve it.”

  “That wouldn’t take all day.”

  “Why don’t you go to Bests? You could spend the day in the city, have the works, even go to Schrafft’s for lunch.” Jane did not know how she was going to afford it on top of the lawyer’s bills, the hospital bills, and the nurses she paid to take care of Ellen’s food, clothes, and the area where she slept, but it seemed to be the only way to get Ellen to Olivia.

  “Oh, that sounds lovely,” said Mrs. Roche. “I think I’ll do just that.”

  ****

  On June fifth, Jane took three subways up to the Bronx and hailed a cab for Mrs. Roche, instructing the surprised driver to take her to Manhattan. She paid for it in advance and gave the old woman an equal amount for the return trip. She had already paid the salon and told the nursing agency that Ellen would not require a nurse that day.

  She saw Mrs. Roche out the door, then bathed Ellen, dressing her in an adorable pink dress, before brushing her tiny, almost-black curls. The baby had Olivia’s coloring—pearly skin and dark brown eyes which shone with delight as she rode on Jane’s lap in another taxi. She cuddled against her aunt as Jane held her tight and relished the sweet-smelling baby’s little coos.

  The taxi pulled up to the sanitarium. Holding her breath, Jane alighted onto the sidewalk. A young nurse came down the steps and helped carry the baby’s necessities inside.

  “Oh, she’s darling,” the nurse gushed. “I’m sure she’s just the medicine for Olivia.”

  “That’s Mrs. Roche,” an older nurse corrected her, coldly. “And we’ll see how she reacts to her child.”

  “You don’t seem to think she’s better,” said Jane.

  “I have seen cases like this before. Young mothers who have everything going for them suddenly lose all rationality. It’s sad, but it’s a fact of life.”

  Her lack of faith did not enhance Jane’s optimism, but clutching the baby close, she proceeded to Olivia’s room and opened the door.

  Sunlight and fresh air streamed in. Olivia was dressed in street clothes that Mrs. McGill had brought, as she put it, “To make her feel more like her old self.” Her hair was pinned up neatly, and she even wore a bit of lipstick. She sat in a chair, confident and expectant.

  When she saw Jane, she stood up. She had not regained the weight lost while she was so ill, and her clothing hung loosely on her, but she stood steadily and walked the few steps to the door.

  “Let me see my baby,” she said, opening her arms. “She’s grown so much!”

  Jane placed the baby in Olivia’s arms. They looked wonderful together.

  But the baby began to fuss almost immediately. “She’s forgotten me,” Olivia cried.

  “Try holding her a different way,” Jane suggested. “From what I’ve seen, she’s used to being held like a sack of potatoes.”

  Olivia giggled then, although her smiles were mixed with tears. She swung the baby around, following Jane’s suggestions, until Ellen hung from her mother’s arms the same way she usually hung from her grandmother’s. For a moment, she calmed.

  “Sit down with her, and she’ll get used to you,” Jane advised. “She was just as fussy for me, but we’re great friends now.”

  The rest of the visit went smoothly, and Jane left feeling lighthearted. Her sister and niece would be coming home. Over and over she told herself that everything would work out.

  ****

  June twenty-eighth was the big day. Jane and Mr. Dobbin brought Olivia home to the spotlessly clean apartment that Mrs. McGill had worked on for days. The two older people, who had not spent nearly as much time together as they had in the past, seemed to be picking up their usual rhythm together, which Jane was sure would help Olivia feel at home.

  Ellen was scheduled to arrive by another prepaid taxi at three o’clock. Mrs. Roche had mellowed somewhat toward her daughter-in-law, even admitting that living with Martin must have sometimes been a strain. That he had not been home once since the whole thing started, nor inquired about his wife, did not improve anyone’s opinion of him.

  Three o’clock passed, as did four o’clock, and there was no sign of Mrs. Roche or Ellen. Jane called the apartment, but there was no answer. Olivia was becoming more and more agitated with each passing minute, and there seemed to be no way to calm her.

  Mr. Dobbin looked at Jane and said, “I must get to that appointment.”

  She nodded her understanding and gratitude. Mrs. McGill went to stand by the window.

  An hour later, the phone rang. Jane answered. It was Mr. Dobbin. “Tell Olivia her baby will be there soon,” he said. “But there may be another guest.”

  As Jane hung up, she thought she heard a man’s voice say, “You bet there will.”

  It was Martin’s voice.

  Jane did not tell Olivia her husband would be coming home with the baby. She was not even sure herself what it meant. But from the tone of Mr. Dobbin’s voice, it did not sound good. If she could only have gone after the baby herself, she could have avoided this problem, but she could not possibly leave Olivia’s side. Not yet. That was, after all, why she had arranged to take the next week off.

  Another long hour later, they arrived. Martin himself was carrying the baby, who was fussing more than Jane had ever seen her. His mother had opted not to come, claiming it was high time to get on with her life, and the bingo parlor was calling. So it was up to Martin to hold his daughter, and it was evident he did not do it well.

  Olivia took the baby from her husband without a word. Ellen calmed a bit but seemed hungry. “It is past her dinner time,” Olivia said. “Didn’t anyone feed her?”

  Both men looked sheepish. Mrs. McGill clucked her disapproval and went to the kitchen to start preparing cereal for the baby. “Someone should check her diaper,” she called over her shoulder. “Men!” she concluded.

  Jane motioned for Olivia to change the baby. She did not want to leave her alone with Martin for a minute. Mr. Dobbin coughed and went to help Mrs. McGill in the kitchen, where there was nothing but the dried-out remnants of what was supposed to have been a festive homecoming meal.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” said Jane. “It’s been so long since anyone heard from you.”

  “I’ve been away.”

  “You couldn’t call to check on your wife?” Jane asked.

  “Don’t lord yourself over me. I was busy.”

  “Working?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I heard you lost your job. What were you doing?”

  “I got another one.”

  “Good. Then you can pay Olivia’s hospital bills. They were quite expensive. Especially those shock treatments.”

  “I didn’t authorize them. I’m not gonna pay for them.”

  “She needed them. And there was no way to reach you fo
r authorization.”

  “I heard you said they could do it. You can pay for them.”

  Jane opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. This discussion was getting nowhere. “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I’m here because this is where my wife and child are. You got a problem with that?”

  “A true fair-weather friend, I see. Well, Olivia is in no condition for this. You’ll have to leave.” She stood, and moved toward him. He was bigger and stronger than she, but she set her shoulders, and he weakened, true to form.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “When the time is right, we’ll see.”

  When Olivia returned, holding Ellen, Jane made an excuse about how Martin had to leave but would return. Olivia’s face did not change expression, but her shoulders sagged. “When?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Not tonight?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh.”

  “Dinner for Ellen is served,” said Mrs. McGill. “And ours will be served presently.”

  Olivia brightened and kissed the baby’s soft hair. “We’re ready.” Her smile implied she meant they were prepared for much more than dinner.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  By the end of the week, Olivia and Ellen had settled into a daily routine that had the apartment humming. Olivia looked better than she had in a while, Jane told herself, and the baby seemed to be thriving on her love.

  Martin called several times, but Jane managed to convince him his wife needed more time. “Dr. Mann will check up on her Saturday. We’ll know more by then.”

  Dr. Mann had come by every evening, but Jane did not tell Martin that. At first the doctor seemed to hedge his bets, saying there could be setbacks. But by Friday, he said Olivia’s progress was everything they could have hoped for, and there was a general sigh of relief.

  “Martin has been calling,” Jane confided.

  “I expect he wants to move back in.”

  “I suppose. Isn’t there a reason why he shouldn’t?”

  Dr. Mann looked at Jane with a smile on his lips. “I’m sure there are many, but none of them are physical. See how long you can stall him, though. Olivia needs as much time as she can get.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And Jane,” the doctor said, almost as an afterthought, “I understand you will be returning to work next week. I’m not at all sure it would be good for Olivia to be alone yet.”

  “She won’t be. Mrs. McGill will be nearby, and she’ll check in often.”

  “Good.”

  “Is there something you are worried about?”

  Dr. Mann shook his head. “Nothing specific. It’s just that you both mean so much to me. And Ellen too. She’s a wonderful baby.”

  “I’ll take care of all of us,” Jane promised.

  ****

  Jane rushed home that Monday, intent on checking for herself that things had gone well for Olivia and Ellen. And indeed they appeared to be fine. Olivia had even prepared a lovely dinner while Ellen napped.

  “You were supposed to have rested yourself, while Ellen slept,” Jane protested.

  “I wasn’t tired. I think I’ve rested enough to last me a lifetime.”

  She proudly served the dinner, and beamed with pleasure at Jane’s compliments. She was still smiling when she answered the ringing phone a moment later. But after she hung up, she look strained.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jane.

  “That was Martin. He wants to come see me tonight.”

  “He doesn’t have to if it’ll upset you,” Jane said. “I can call him and tell him to wait.”

  “He said he has every right to see his daughter,” Olivia said sadly.

  Jane did not point out that he had felt no need to see the baby during the entire time Olivia was hospitalized. “I’ll be right here,” she said. “You won’t be alone.”

  He did not come right away. Ellen went down for the night at seven, and hours passed, with Olivia checking the street from the window every few minutes. She stopped looking out the window when it got dark outside, although she was still edgy. But at ten o’clock, Olivia’s nervousness seemed to dissolve. “I guess he’s not coming,” she said, her voice sounding hopeful.

  The doorbell rang at ten-fifteen. Olivia jumped and the haunted look returned to her face.

  “I can send him away,” said Jane. “Ellen is asleep anyway.”

  “We should see what he wants,” said Olivia, her voice full of defeat.

  Jane went to the door. She only opened it part way, and she quietly told Martin the he wouldn’t be able to see Ellen since she was sleeping.

  “I want to come in anyway,” Martin said loudly. The fumes from the large amount of whiskey he had apparently consumed filled Jane’s nostrils, and she could not help wrinkling her nose.

  “Don’t sneer at me, you old biddy,” he said.

  Olivia came up behind Jane and pulled open the door. “You have to be quiet,” she pleaded. “You’ll wake the baby.”

  Martin did not fail to notice his wife’s agitated state.

  “Are you cracking up again?” he asked, pushing past Jane. “I knew it wouldn’t last.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s just that you’re so late.”

  “So what?”

  Olivia plucked at her skirt. Jane watched as she struggled to maintain her composure.

  “Ellen has already gone to bed,” Jane said. “You missed your chance to see her.”

  Martin started toward the bedroom.

  Olivia reached for his arm. “Please don’t wake her.”

  “When are you two going to get it through your heads that she’s my daughter?” He shrugged her arm away and stomped forward.

  Olivia plucked at her skirt again. “Shhh. Please, don’t talk so loudly. You’ll wake her.”

  Flinging the door of the bedroom open so hard it banged against the wall, Martin disappeared inside. Seconds later the baby wailed.

  “What are you doing to her?” Olivia asked, shocked out of her immobility.

  “I’m not doing anything. I’m just holding her.”

  “I’m coming, Ellen,” said Olivia, and went into the bedroom. The door slammed, and Jane was left outside, feeling a helpless rage.

  Someone knocked on the door of the apartment, and before Jane could answer, Mrs. McGill burst in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Martin is here.”

  “Is he hurting them?”

  “I don’t think so. But he isn’t helping, either.”

  Through the closed door, Jane could hear Martin’s voice, raised over the baby’s screams. She could not make out what he was saying, but she was pretty sure he was “laying down the law,” as he called it.

  Mrs. McGill, eyes wide, polishing rag limp at her side, frowned. “I’ll make some tea. I think we’re going to need it.”

  “That or Scotch,” Jane said, under her breath.

  “Did you say something?”

  “Tea would be lovely,” said Jane. As if that were a cure-all.

  Several minutes later, Martin emerged from the bedroom. “I’ll be back tomorrow. And I want a steak for dinner.”

  “Then you had better bring it yourself, and cook it too,” said Jane. “You’re not getting any more free rides.”

  Martin whirled around and raised a fist to Jane. She stood her ground, and Martin, after glancing over to where Mrs. McGill stood open-mouthed, lowered his arm. Saying nothing, he turned and left the apartment.

  Jane raced to Olivia. “Are you all right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “He doesn’t have to live here. Say the word and I’ll find a way to keep him out.”

  “How?”

  “You can get a divorce.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I couldn’t do that. I don’t want Ellen to come from a broken home. People will talk.” She blinked and a tear fell to her cheek. “He’s my husband. Please don’t make it harder for me. I
have to do this.”

  Martin’s homecoming was everything Jane had dreaded. He moved in, more arrogant than ever. It was as if he were king of the castle.

  “I’ll be having my poker game here on Tuesday nights,” he told Olivia, in front of Jane, essentially the way he always communicated his demands to his sister-in-law, by public conversations with his wife.

  “That is not possible,” said Jane. “It wouldn’t be healthy for the baby.” Her tone left no room for argument, and Martin didn’t make one. He got up and left.

  Olivia’s bottom lip trembled. “Don’t worry,” Jane said. “Things will settle down soon.” With any luck, he would not come back.

  But he did. About midnight, the door opened noisily and slammed shut. Jane, from within her own room, could hear Martin staggering past the couch, colliding with the coffee table, cursing, and moving on into Olivia’s room. She shuddered, fearing what would happen, and put her pillow over her ears. Olivia had made it plain she did not want Jane interfering, and Jane had to honor her request, even if the effort to do so killed her.

  But she was unable to muffle the noise from the next room. Martin’s voice carried, through the walls and through the open windows, increasing in volume by the minute, until the baby began to cry in her crib. When Olivia asked him to be quiet so she could comfort Ellen, Jane could plainly hear Martin say, “Leave her alone! I’m the one who needs attention. And you’re gonna give it to me whether you want to or not.” The banging of the headboard while Ellen frantically cried would haunt Jane’s dreams for weeks.

  Olivia was up and in the kitchen feeding Ellen when Jane came in the next morning. She cautioned her sister to move around quietly, since Martin was still asleep. “He got in late,” she said, by way of explanation.

  “I heard him,” said Jane. “Doesn’t he have to go to work?”

  “He’s between jobs right now.”

  “So how can he afford to go out drinking and gambling?”

  Olivia gasped. “How do you know about the gambling?”

  “His mother told me. But I kind of suspected, since he never had a dime, even when he was working.”

  “He swears it’s under control. He only went out last night to say goodbye to the boys.”

  “So no poker on Tuesdays?”