by Terri Lee
Though she smiled and joked, Frankie knew the situation was no laughing matter.
TWENTY SIX
In those early days, when hopes and dreams were fresh, all anyone ever needed was a small third floor walkup apartment filled with love. Days turned into weeks and weeks became months.
Before long it was December, and the newlyweds prepared to celebrate their first Christmas. What fun they had picking out a tiny tree and finding just the right spot in front of the living room window. With the few decorations they bought and a few that Frances made, Frances proclaimed it the most beautiful tree she had ever seen as they placed the gold star on top.
Images of the several large trees decorated to perfection throughout Greenfield tickled her memory and she shook her head, imagining Lena wrinkling her nose over the little table top version. But Frances knew in her heart that she would never trade her homespun rendition for the trees trimmed in gold of her past.
She did her best to keep a happy face for Frankie, but the December chill blew in an air of melancholy that threatened to wrap around her and steal some of her joy. Christmas was a time for family and visiting friends. She was used to a house that was always full of guests and laughter, and her tiny apartment seemed suddenly small.
December also meant that five months had passed, and it was becoming abundantly clear that her parents were every bit as entrenched in their position as she. With each passing day, the realization that they were not going to come knocking on her door hit a little bit harder, until by Christmas Eve, the lump in her throat was almost too big to swallow. She had been sure that even their frozen resolve would have melted at Christmastime.
Frankie could see how being cast out had chipped away at her carefree core. He could feel the weight of it hanging over her, and he always did what he could to brighten her mood. In that spirit, he offered to attend Midnight Mass with her.
“I can’t imagine Christmas Eve without it.” She had said. “But you don’t have to come with me.” The two of them had a quiet understanding about Frankie’s non-attendance at church.
“Nonsense. I’m not going to have you wandering the streets in the middle of the night.”
“You don’t have to, Frankie. I’ll be fine. I know you believe you used up all your little boy prayers years ago.” She placed her hand on his arm.
Frankie sighed. “It’s not that they were used up. It’s the fact that no one was listening. Prayers offer nothing but a sense of consolation for the petitioner.” He winced immediately at the unintended harshness of his words.
“I’d really rather not have that discussion right now.”
“You’re right. It’s Christmas Eve.” Frankie was happy to concede.
“I’ve said it before, you and God are just going to have to work things out for yourself.”
“Well, he’s going to have the make the first move.”
“I know.” She cooed in that soothing tone of hers and patted his arm which told him that he wasn’t convincing her any more than she was convincing him. But she didn’t try to dissuade him. She had heard the stories. She knew he had witnessed many a dying soldier calling out to a God who wasn’t listening, which only solidified Frankie’s position. And he’d made it clear that he had no intention of speaking to such a God now.
But for his Frances, Frankie would make an exception. He would sit quietly in a pew and allow her to find the peace and comfort that she swore resided there. He couldn’t deny that the music was beautiful and left him feeling lighter than when he had entered the local parish of St. Anthony’s.
The night was chilly as the two of them trundled home, still humming Christmas carols. Frances tightened her coat around her as the first few flakes began to fall.
“Oh look, Frankie. It’s going to snow on our very first Christmas. I think that’s good luck.” She held out her gloved hand to catch the falling bits of heavenly frost.
“You’re good luck,” he answered.
Once inside, they shook off their snow covered gear and pulled up their chairs closer to the radiator for warmth.
Frankie reached over and retrieved a tiny package that had been tucked into the back of the tree.
“Merry Christmas.”
She took her time opening it. Inside the small box was a gold watch with tiny rubies and diamonds to match her wedding rings. “Frankie…” Frances gasped. “It’s gorgeous.”
“You like it?” Frankie was anxious. His only goal to please her.
“I love it.” She threw her arms around his neck and smothered him with kisses.
She placed it on her slim wrist and modeled it for a few minutes before disappearing into the bedroom and returning with a package of her own.
“I can keep secrets, too,” she beamed.
Frankie unwrapped the small gift with disbelief, to find a beautiful pair of silver plated cuff links engraved with his initials.
“How did you manage this?” he was incredulous.
“I saved a tiny bit out of the grocery budget every week.” She was so proud of herself. She was grinning from ear to ear. Frankie shook his blonde head in admiration at this woman who would always surprise him.
“You are something else, my Frances.”
“Something good?” she teased.
“Something wonderful.” He replied.
Elsewhere in the city there were festive gatherings with people swathed in silks and furs. There were beautiful people swirling about in glittering rooms where the ladies would kiss on both cheeks crying out “darling, how good to see you again,” before rolling their eyes as they turned away to embrace the next person. But Frances would gladly trade it all for the small apartment with the street lights casting a holy glow through her living room window on this Christmas Eve.
She curled up in Frankie’s lap with her head on his shoulder and they each sat there in a comfortable silence with their love wrapped around them. And for the longest time the only sound was the contented sigh coming from one or the other.
TWENTY SEVEN
“Don’t be mad at me.”
Frances stared open mouthed as the guest at her door continued to speak.
“Well, don’t just stand there staring at me. Invite me in.”
Frances stepped aside to open the door wider and Lucy swept across the threshold. The two women reached for one another at the same time and hugged as they danced around the room like a couple of silly school girls. Finally, Frances stepped back and held Lucy at arms’ length to get a good look at her.
“I can’t believe you’re standing in my apartment.” She took Lucy by the hand. “Get in here. I’m being a terrible hostess.” She led Lucy to the sofa where the two of them collapsed in a heap as a year’s worth of chatter began to spill forth.
“How in the world…?” Frances stared at her blonde cousin.
“Well I remembered Frankie was working for Morgan Bank. So I started there, and it was fairly easy, actually.” Lucy sat back, looking as if she were quite proud of her sleuthing abilities.
“Yes, I supposed it would be.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?” Frances blinked at her cousin.
“You’re thinking it would be just as easy for your family to find you.” Lucy reached out and patted her hand.
“My family?” Frances snorted. “Frankie is my family.”
“I know. Are you happy?” Lucy asked as she leaned closer to her old confidante, searching for answers beneath the brown eyes.
“Deliriously.”
“I’m glad.” Lucy sat back, satisfied. “You look happy.”
“I have no regrets. None. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true.” Frances wouldn’t hold back the ugly parts from Lucy. “I do wish that things hadn’t ended with such a dramatic blow-up. And maybe I could have handled things differently, but Lena and Father saying, I was dead to them…” her voice trailed off as the words conjured up the darkness she had locked away in the closet.
/> “But I wouldn’t undo it.” Frances said and Lucy could see the determination in her face. “Have my parents asked about me?” The words stuck in her throat, almost too embarrassed to come out.
“Not to me.” Lucy shook her head at the sad truth. “But I’m sure they’ve talked to Mommy and Daddy about it.”
Frances just nodded.
“Mommy assumes that I’ve been lying this whole time about not seeing you. She doesn’t believe a word of it. She says she knows we’re thick as thieves.”
“That’s true.” Frances leaned her head back on the sofa and breathed a contented sigh.
“So you’re not mad at me?” Lucy grinned.
“Never.”
“You know they were your rules, not mine. I never should have agreed to any of it. But like you, I thought it would only be temporary.”
“Yes, who knew?” Frances sat up. “Look at me. I’ve lost all of my manners. I’ll fix some coffee. We have so much to catch up on.”
The two women moved to the small dining table as Frances set out cups and saucers.
“So fill me in on everything.” Frances looked eagerly at her cousin for news from home, suddenly realizing how hungry she was to hear familiar names.
“Let’s see,” Lucy sat chin in hand. “Charles and Cassandra are living in your old house, since your parents moved to the new apartment.”
“Really?” Frances gave a low whistle. “Nice move, Charles.”
“Oh. And I suppose you read about Graydon getting married?”
“I did see a mention in the paper about it. It seemed rather sudden with no previous announcement about an engagement. What’s the story there?”
“I’m not sure. You know Tanner and I don’t exactly run in Graydon’s circle. I only have second hand gossip.”
“That’s the best kind.” Frances urged her on.
“Apparently,” Lucy leaned in as if divulging state secrets, “it was a rather hurried-up affair if you know what I mean.”
Frances couldn’t help but gasp. “Oh my gosh. I wonder what Lena had to say about her precious Graydon Harris when that news got out.”
“Who cares?” Lucy shrugged. “I have some other news, not just gossip.”
“Do tell.”
“I’m going to have a baby.” Lucy blurted out as if she’d been trying unsuccessfully to keep the lid on a pot about to boil over at any moment.
“Luce!” Frances rose from her chair to gather her darling cousin in a bear hug. “You and Tanner must be thrilled.”
“Uh huh.” Lucy nodded. “We’re so excited. That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t wait to see you anymore.”
“One of the reasons? What’s the other one?”
“Tanner is being transferred to Chicago. We leave next month.” Lucy bit her lip. Obviously worried that her news might shatter something precious.
“No.” Frances sank back into her chair with a defeated slump.
“It’s a wonderful job.” Lucy offered up hopefully.
“Oh, I’m sure it is. I’m sure it’s the best thing for the two of you.” Frances pulled her lips into some semblance of a smile.
“So you see that’s why I had to find you. I couldn’t leave without ending this thing.”
“I’m so glad you did.” Frances shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were hurt. A wounded animal, lashing out at the world, that’s all. But whatever happens between you and the rest of your family, you and I are unaffected by any of it.”
“Of course. You’re right.”
The two of them picked right up where they had left off as the afternoon hours melted away in comfortable conversation and private jokes. Frances studied her cousin as Lucy rambled on about this or that, and Frances thought she looked just the same, yet somehow different. She supposed that Lucy might say the same about her.
Frances had a million questions about Lucy’s pregnancy. And her cousin was generous with her answers. They shared intimate thoughts on marriage, laughing over their own brand of silliness. Frances had Lucy howling as she related her many mishaps in the early days of learning to run her small household.
“I never thought I’d see the day, that Frances Durant was waxing her own wood floors.” Lucy was incredulous.
“Me, either. When I ran off with this little scheme, I failed to grasp the fact that there would probably be no household help. I’ve never known anyone that didn’t have household help. I don’t why I hadn’t thought that through.”
Lucy continued to laugh.
“But here I am. Cooking, cleaning, and waxing, and I’ve got the hands to prove it.” She splayed her hands on the table to show Lucy her fingers that hadn’t seen a manicure in over a year.
“I’m so glad you’re laughing.”
Frances was glad that Lucy paid no heed to the dramatic demands Frances had placed upon her in her letter. And now that they had found one another again, Lucy was going to be carried off to Chicago. It might as well be half way across the world. Cruel fate. Oh well they would just have to become proficient letter writers.
When it was finally time for Lucy to leave, they stood at the doorway, clinging to one another, reluctant to let go. Frances watched Lucy walk down the stairs, waving each time Lucy stopped to look back. Then she ran to the window and waved as her cousin looked up from the sidewalk.
Frances turned from the window with a deep sigh and looked around her small apartment. For the first time she saw it through the eyes of someone else. The cramped interior. The slightly shabby appearance. The well-worn furniture. And she was sad. Sad to see it with these new eyes, her heart slightly broken that the newlywed-spell had been shattered.
***
Frankie was thrilled to hear about the reunion later that evening. He listened attentively to Frances’s animated retelling of every bit of news that she had received.
“Oh, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person: having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them out just as they are -chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away.”
Frankie stared off into space as he pulled up an old quote from his memory.
“What was that?” Frances asked.
“ A bit of a poem by George Elliot. I thought it was appropriate.”
“Yes, if I could write poetry, that’s exactly what I would have said.” Frances sighed. “Exactly.”
It did Frankie’s heart good to see Frances so happy. She’d been tossed out in the trash like yesterday’s news for a year, now suddenly someone showed up on her doorstep saying, “I’ve missed you.” What soothing words they must have been for her soul. What healing balm to rub into the wounds that had yet to mend, to know that she was worth the trouble. Though Frankie was happy for Frances, as he watched her closely over the next few days, he would have to admit that Lucy’s visit had left his wife somewhat unsettled.
TWENTY EIGHT
Could it be? Could she actually be pregnant? She had missed her period last month, and though that wasn’t so unusual, she was feeling queasy in the morning. She decided to keep her suspicions to herself until she knew for sure.
They’d been married for almost two years and Frances was more than a little anxious about the fact that she was not yet pregnant. Everyone told her it was nothing to worry about and she was sure they were right. After all, two years wasn’t so long. But a small doubt had planted itself in the back of her mind and took up residence. Her monthly cycles had always been irregular, and she wasn’t sure if she would even know when or if she was pregnant.
Now, when she heard the doctor confirm her self-diagnosis, she could barely contain her joy on the walk home and she found that her hand kept finding its way to her tummy and resting there.
Frankie didn’t seem to notice the large grin that she had to wrestle with as he came home that evening. Over a candlelight din
ner she casually said, “We better enjoy these romantic dinners while we can.”
Frankie looked up, with a worried glance, “Why?”
“Well, we’ll be so busy, there might not be time for romantic dinners for a while.” She was very matter of fact.
“Busy doing what?”
“Why tending to the baby, of course.” She looked at him wide-eyed.
“Tending to the baby? Tending to the —” He dropped his fork. He pushed back his chair and she stood to accept his embrace. He swung her around the room while he whooped aloud.
“Oh my God, what am I doing?” He set her down gingerly and then placed his hand on her tummy. “I’ve got to take care of you. Both of you.”
Frances smiled, her heart bursting to full. All her dreams were coming true. They were going to be a family.
***
Within the next few days, all the women in the building had heard her good news and began their next training campaign in earnest. They were full of advice, each contradicting the other. But Frances accepted it all with the love with which it was offered.
She and Frankie were talking about moving into a two bedroom apartment to make way for the new bundle. And she had happy thoughts to occupy her hours. She was going to be a mother. The term certainly conjured up mixed emotions for her. What kind of mother will I be? she wondered.
Lena is going to be a grandmother, she mused. Of course that might already be the case, since Charles very well might have had a child by now, although she hadn’t seen any announcements in the paper thus far. It was odd to think how one night and one argument had changed things forever. What would it take for one of them to move their chess piece? Would a grandchild do the trick? Frances placed her hand on her stomach.
“Dear child of mine,” she whispered. “May you know nothing but love.”
***
“Frances?” Frankie entered the apartment to find it unusually quiet. No sounds of rattling pans. No smells coming from the kitchen.
“Frances?” He called out again as he walked through the small apartment in a few short steps and opened the bedroom door to find her lying on the bed, curled up in a fetal position with a tear-stained face. He was immediately at her side, kneeling down by the bed.