The Bootlegger's Wife: A Love Story

by Terri Lee

  “What’s the matter, honey?” his hand reached up to feel her forehead.

  The bit of composure she had been holding onto with a tiny thread broke and the dam gave way.

  “I lost…the baby.” She choked on her reply.

  “Oh no.” Frankie scooped her up into his arms. He sat there and rocked her back and forth, as if soothing a child awakened from a bad dream.

  “I lost the baby.” She whispered over and over again through her tears, the words a despondent mantra.

  “Everything will be ok.” Frankie uttered the words that he knew were useless, but they were all he had to offer. She cried until she cried herself to sleep, and he drew the covers over her and left her there in a place without tears for a few hours.

  He sat in the living room in the dark, nursing a drink, left to deal with his loss on his own.

  ***

  Mrs. Antonini and several other well-meaning friends and neighbors gathered around and comforted her in the following days, assuring her that many women miscarried their first pregnancy and went on to have a large happy family. She knew all this to be true. She was well aware of her grandmother’s own struggle to have a family.

  But this was her pain. And even if she had other babies, she wouldn’t have this one.

  She couldn’t stop thinking of the innocuous phrase, “I’ve lost the baby.” As if she weren’t paying attention one day and the baby went missing. No one wanted to say the real words. Her baby was dead.

  But like most things, she carried her pain deep inside and to the world she showed her smiling, resilient face. Of course she would recover, no one need worry about that. But she would temper her enthusiasm with caution next time around.

  PART THREE

  TWENTY NINE

  “Five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year!” The crowd erupted.

  Frankie leaned down and kissed his wife.

  “1929! Can you believe it?” Frances shook her head. “This is going to be a great year. I can feel it in my bones.”.

  “Mmm…I love your bones.” Frankie smirked. “They’ve all been great years, since I met you.” He stole another kiss.

  “I can’t believe it’s the last year of the twenties.” Frances shook her head. “Where has the time gone?” She asked the rhetorical question more to herself than Frankie. Holidays and special occasions always seemed to have a way of crystalizing a moment and never was that more true than a new year’s eve when one looked back over one’s shoulder wondering what had happened to all the years and the plans.

  Time was a liar, as well as thief. For some reason, time enjoyed lulling one into believing there was plenty of time to fix this or take care of that. So of course, you didn’t fix anything. And before you knew it, time had stolen the opportunity.

  So it was with Frances and her family. She’d been left standing out on the ledge, not sure how she would find her way back. Both parties were unwilling to make the first move, so no move was made at all. Positions that could have been nudged became solidified and the brokenness between them became a chasm too wide to cross. Years piled upon years, resentment settled in like the layers of sedimentary rock. It would take a skilled archeologist digging in the rubble a century in the future to make any sens of it.

  She shook her head out of her reverie. She knew tonight would be a night for reflection, and she’d have to work hard to keep her melancholy in check.

  “You better schmooze with your boss and make some points.” Frances gave her husband a soft shove from behind. “Don’t make him regret that new promotion.”

  “Yes, dear.” Frankie donned the reluctant husband routine as he moved out into the crowd to do as he was told.

  Frances watched him go, as proud as she could be. Her Uncle Nate had been a prophet all those years ago when he had proclaimed that Frankie was a young man who was going places.

  Frankie was never afraid of hard work and his unconventional thinking was getting him noticed. He had been promoted twice in the last couple of years as his investment strategies were earning him a reputation.

  Time had melted the years until one became indistinguishable from the next. Frankie had kept his nose to the grindstone and bit by bit, continued to build the life he had promised Frances. He had been swept up into the lifestyle of the up and comers. There were lots of company parties for the stock brokers at Morgan. Lots of parties. From glittering affairs to casual company picnics. It seemed as if there was always something to celebrate. Life was good.

  The brokers worked hard and played hard. Frankie worked harder. Frances knew Frankie always felt as if he had more to prove. While other young men decorated their office walls with finance degrees, Frankie had only his wits and common sense to recommend him. But it was those very attributes that had seen him through many years where he had risen from the slush pile at the bottom to the middle empire where the worker bees buzzed frantically all day long. His common sense had been enough to keep him tied to his desk while others with impressive credentials had come and gone.

  Times were changing fast, and Frankie had told her recently that he was sure that if he approached Morgan Bank today he would never be given a job. He had been in the right place at the right time when companies were eager to hire bright young men returning from the war. But that was 1919 and things were much different now than they had been when he first came on board ten years ago. He couldn’t afford to relax, not now, not yet.

  For now, his hard work was paying off. With his latest promotion, he and Frances had moved into a new apartment several blocks away from their old stomping grounds. Everything was bigger, better and brighter. Their apartment was full of new furniture, even though Frances was adamant that she didn’t need any of it, Frankie gladly made the monthly payments at the furniture store.

  Although Frances hated to leave their first little apartment that held so many happy memories within its walls, she had to admit she also loved the step up. The extra space was welcome, especially since they still planned on having a family.

  She might have plans for a family, but life has a way of barging in and rarely asks about one’s plans. The second miscarriage had sent her reeling. The first one knocked the wind out of her, because she was young and invincible and life handed her a bitter pill to swallow. But the second one was just as devastating because she began to fear that childlessness might be her fate. In almost nine years of marriage she’d only been able to get pregnant twice. Both ended badly.

  Serious questions were now part of the everyday conversation in Frances’s head. What if she would never be able to carry a baby to term? What if she and Frankie never had children of their own? What would that look like? It killed her to think that she would be depriving Frankie of a lifelong wish to have a family.

  “What if I’m defective?” She asked Frankie one night while lying in bed in the dark where her fears always gathered around her. “What if I can never have children?”

  “It’s too soon to be talking about never,” Frankie’s low voice soothed her from the next pillow. “And besides, it wouldn’t matter either way. You’re all I ever needed.”

  Thank God for Frankie. He could always reach down into his bag of magic words and make everything better.

  She prayed hard every day. She lit candles at mass. Extending her prayers to God long after she had walked out of the church, the flame continued to burn and carried with it her hearts plea. Would God hear her?

  “Frances Lee, if you don’t look adorable?” Mrs. Garrett, Frankie’s bosses’ wife came up to her, breaking into her deep thoughts.

  It took Frances a second to return to the moment at hand. “Hello, Mrs. Garrett. Thank you.” Frances accepted her kiss on the cheek.

  “I told you before, call me Helen.” The older woman waved her left hand as her right hand sloshed her drink ever so slightly.

  “You always look adorable.” Mrs. Garrett leaned in close as if divulging a secret. “Of course, it’s easy to keep that girlish figure when you haven�
�t had kids yet.”

  Frances caught her breath.

  “Mark my words, Little Miss,” Mrs. Garrett tapped Frances’s arm, “once you have a couple of children, all of that will be gone in a flash.” She snapped her fingers for effect, although her words were slightly slurred.

  “I’m sure.” Frances clenched her teeth.

  “Whatever are you waiting for?” Helen tried to focus on Frances’s eyes struggling to do so.

  “We’re trying.”

  “Well, don’t you know how to do it?” Helen laughed at her own joke. “Frank!” She called to the crowd. “Frank Lee, come over here.” She waved Frankie over to her direction in an exaggerated manner.

  Frankie left the small group of co-workers he was laughing with and dutifully responded to the command of his boss’s wife.

  “Yes, Mrs. Garrett?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “You have beautiful hair, you know that?” Helen lost track of her initial reason for calling Frankie to her side. She studied his thick head of completely white hair and marveled at the shine. “Never saw anything like it,” she mumbled. “Anyway, your young wife here tells me that you’re trying to have a baby.”

  Frankie looked to Frances and winced.

  “And I said to her, don’t you know how to do it?” She laughed again, happy to repeat her comedy routine. “You need to get busy. If you need some pointers I’m sure Jack could help you out.” She turned to search the crowd for her husband.

  “No that’s fine, Mrs. Garrett, we’ve got it covered.” He smiled, took Frances’s elbow, and quietly led her away from the intoxicated interrogation.

  “I’m sorry, Honey,” Frankie whispered.

  “It’s not your fault.” Frances drew a deep breath. “I just don’t know how people can be so thoughtless.”

  “Well, she was pretty drunk.” Frankie offered.

  “What’s new?”

  Frances should have been used to it by now. It was a common question that every woman assumed they had the right to inquire upon meeting her. “When are you two going to have kids?” She had heard it over and over.

  “Yes,” she asked herself, as she spent hours on park benches with her neighbors as she helped them to watch their kids, “when will I have a child of my own?” She watched greedily as young mothers nuzzled their babies in their arms, cooing in that silly little sing song voice that women discovered once the child sprang forth from their cocoon. And the baby would intuitively respond in the secret language of mother and child.

  She ached with a thirst that rose from her bones and could not be quenched. Holding a baby in the crook of her arm, gazing into that tiny face, fresh from heaven, her endless prayer would escape her lips one more time.

  “Don’t let her get you down.” Frankie nudged her back from her darkness.

  “I won’t. I’m fine,” she lied. She wouldn’t let the inebriated inquiries from a woman she only saw a couple of times a year ruin her evening. Helen Garrett should be worrying about herself, Frances frowned. If her husband was to rise any higher on the corporate ladder she would have to stop acting like a drunken clown at company parties. Frances felt pity for Jack Garrett, who may never see the top floor at Morgan Investments because his wife was unsuitable. But perhaps he loved her enough and the upper echelon was not his goal, anyway. To each his own.

  Frances had enough to think about. As the crowd of partiers made wishes and predictions for the coming year, Frances uttered her same silent yearning.

  THIRTY

  Steady girl, she cautioned herself. Frances swallowed hard and her heart jumped into her throat. She couldn’t be sure that she had heard him correctly. She had to ask him to repeat himself.

  “Yes, Mrs. Lee, I can confirm that you are indeed pregnant.” Dr. Jamison proclaimed.

  “Pregnant.” Frances sat with the word for a moment. So many emotions rushed over and around her. Exhilaration, tempered by fear.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” her voice squeaked.

  “Mrs. Lee, I know you’re apprehensive and I do prescribe caution, but don’t let your worries overwhelm you. As we have discussed before, I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to carry a baby to term. Everything seems as it should be.” He patted her arm like she was a little girl. But she was twenty-nine and well aware of the risks that lay before her.

  She buttoned up her blouse, straightened her skirt, and took the extra moments to slow her breathing before stepping out of the small room to where the nurses were waiting and smiling brightly.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Lee.”

  “Thank you, Dora,” Frances nodded, happy to accept the welcoming news but always holding back…just in case.

  But maybe this time will be different, her heart kept interrupting her composure. Yes, she gave in just a little. Maybe this time.

  ***

  A blessing had come to Frances shortly after the first miscarriage. When she was at her lowest point, an angel had been placed in her path. For that is the way life goes, people move in to fill the gap left by others. The river ebbs and flows as new people are brought to your shore, some meant to stay, some only passing through. The angel’s name was Sophia Fenske, a bright, witty woman with a rich Polish accent who moved into the apartment next door. A small woman, in her early-seventies, Frances could tell she had been a beauty in her day. Her cheekbones still carried the remnants of her former glory.

  Frances learned that she had been a professional ballet dancer in her younger years until injuries required that she exit the stage. She turned to teaching the dance she had always loved and that sustained her for many years. Even now she moved with such grace across the kitchen floor for a cup of coffee, and Frances could imagine the spotlight following her every step.

  She was a widow now, whose son had died of influenza and whose daughter lived in Texas. She was fond of saying that her daughter had married a cowboy. Frances took to her like a duck to water, and Sophia, who missed her own daughter terribly, accepted this proxy with open arms. They each filled what was missing in the other. Sophia took care of Frances like a mother and Frances, who was starving for that kind of love, ate it up with a spoon.

  The two of them were and odd pair, the older woman with thinning, white hair still pulled back into a neat and tidy dancer’s bun, and her young companion, full of life. But it was the truest kind of friendship and Frances was grateful every day. Frances could spill the worries of her heart and Sophia would listen patiently offering the words of wisdom that years of experience had given her.

  So it was Sophia who offered her comfort in the dark days following the second miscarriage when Frances railed against the injustice of it as dreams were once again wrenched from her body.

  Sophia held her as she cried, “Not again. This can’t be happening again.”

  But it did happen again. And Frances was left to deal with an emptiness deeper than the emptiness of her womb. What in the world was wrong with her? Getting pregnant and having a child was the most natural thing in the world. All of New York was filled with babies. She couldn’t walk five feet down the sidewalk without bumping into one. Babies being pushed in buggies, mothers tugging reluctant toddlers behind them as they scurried home from some outing. Babies about to burst forth at any moment as women waddled down the aisles at church. The letters from Chicago as she read about Lucy’s life with her four rowdy boys. Everywhere was the constant reminder of her own inadequacy.

  Of course she would survive, of that there was no doubt. She had no choice. Because her scars were all beneath the skin, beneath the brave smile she pasted on her face, she looked no different today than she had the day before. But it made no sense to her that her outside reflected none of the truth.

  She leaned on Sophia until she was strong again. It had been very difficult for Frances to move up town and away from her dear friend. Even the lure of a new apartment filled with beautiful things hadn’t been enough to tempt her at first. After having given up so much, she knew what was most important to
her. Sophia had urged her to move ahead, to grab life while it could be grabbed. And the two of them still managed to visit frequently.

  Except for Sophia, Frankie and Frances kept this recent news to themselves and their fingers crossed. It was a lot to ask that Frances place her hopes and dreams on the threshing floor one more time. She wasn’t sure if she would survive another blow. But before long, Frances was well into her fourth month and she couldn’t help but breathe a little easier. This time would be different.

  ***

  Her belly began to swell as the life within her required more room. The first flutter of movement brought tears to her eyes. It was just the tiniest quiver, almost like butterfly wings, but it was enough for her to hang her heart on. Her baby was alive and kicking.

  In fact, the baby was kicking more every day. Frankie marveled along with his wife at the changes in her body. Her breasts became heavier and sometimes he could see for himself how the weight took its toll on her back. But he did everything he could to pamper her. She might be having a baby, but she would always be his baby.

  Sophia seemed almost as happy as Frances. After all, she was practically a surrogate grandmother. She even offered to come and stay for the first few days after the baby was born. Frances didn’t know how she had earned such a wonderful friend. But she wasn’t too proud to accept Sophia’s offer, in fact it put her mind at ease.

  She spent her days preparing the nursery, lingering over each small nightgown and blanket, imagining her baby wrapped in the softness and cradled in her arms. She gathered all the advice that everyone offered for free, and willingly accepted all the experience showered upon her. Life was everything she hoped for. She was deliriously happy.

  ***

  “Have a good day, my love.” Frances straightened Frankie’s tie and tugged his cow lick for good measure.

  “I’m sure I will. It’s just a Tuesday, like any other Tuesday. See you two tonight.” He bent down and gave her belly a special pat before giving her a final kiss good-bye.