The Bootlegger's Wife: A Love Story

by Terri Lee

  “You’re quite the celebrity.” Frances mused.

  “Only in a very small circle, and a very long time ago.”

  But Frances knew that just for tonight, it was not a long time ago. And the two of them were happy for any excuse to leave the misery and worry behind for an hour or two.

  ***

  Sophia’s week was up quickly and Frances was left alone with her little guy. She had fallen utterly and completely head over heels for him.

  “I’m in love,” Frances told Frankie one night when he came home from his job search to find her still in her nightgown. “I’m lost in his eyes all day long. I sit here and lose track of time as I watch him sleep. I can’t seem to get anything else accomplished.” She apologized.

  “You’re accomplishing everything you need to. You just hold on tight to that baby boy. Everything else can wait.” Frankie assured her.

  He was guilty of the same feelings. He would scoop him up as soon as he walked in the door, saying “Where is my son? Let me see that fine young man.”

  In the midst of the dark clouds, they had been given a bright and shiny promise with pink cheeks. Frankie loved watching Frances with their son. He had never witnessed such tenderness up close. He was mesmerized by a kind of love a man with his past could only dream of.

  For her part, Frances was relieved to find that she was shamelessly attached to this baby. Yes, she was tied heart and soul to this tiny bundle of gurgling, squirming arms and legs. She had held a secret fear that the coldness that coursed through Lena’s veins would find a new home in her. But in the end, it would not be said of her, “She doesn’t bond well with children.” And for that she breathed a sigh of relief.

  ***

  January burst on the scene with icy breath and Frances bundled Robert in extra layers as they headed out to St. Anthony’s on his baptismal day. It was a small assembly in the front pew, with Frankie, Frances and Sophia, who had agreed to be the baby’s godmother.

  Frances beamed proudly as the holy water was poured over Robert’s head, symbolizing his being gathered into the family of God. Ancient prayers were offered for him as the saints looked over Frances’s shoulder and smiled their approval.

  A child’s baptism was usually an excuse for a large family gathering, with laughter and presents and everyone passing the child around as they heaped their joyful wishes on the recipient. Though today’s affair was quiet in comparison, Robert received the same blessings. And God paid no mind to the fact that the band of faithful was small, as He was busy looking into the hearts of those in attendance.

  Frankie had asked Frances beforehand if now might not be a good time to contact her parents. An invitation to a baptism just might be the nudge everyone needed. But Frances remained firm.

  “No.” She said without hesitation. “If they haven’t been concerned about me in the last nine years, I don’t know why today should be any different. Robert Francis deserves better than that.”

  Frankie didn’t press any further. The conversation hadn’t changed much over the years. In fact the topic rarely came up anymore. They had lived for some time now, with the unspoken truth that the two of them were born into existence with the breath that came from the utterance of two small words, “I do.” Nothing existed, before. Therefore there was no need to look over the shoulder to see what might have been.

  When Frances sat alone with her thoughts later that evening, she asked herself would she go back and undo the events in her past, would she make different choices? But she knew in her heart that life was like a finely woven tapestry, and if one began to pluck at one thread it was possible that the entire thing may come unraveled in her fingertips. She would never take that chance, so her answer to that question would always be a resounding, no.

  THIRTY THREE

  January became June, and the news grew less promising by the month. Frankie became increasingly more tense and Frances began to worry just how long their little next egg could hold out. Seven months was a long time to go without a job. They had cut down all expenses to the bare bones, there was no room left for anything but the essentials.

  “I’m afraid it’s time to talk about making some changes.” Frankie broached the subject with trepidation one afternoon while at the dining table.

  “What kind of changes?”

  Frankie cleared his throat, searching for the right words. “For one thing, I don’t think we can afford to stay in this apartment any longer. If this downward spiral continues, then we are going to have to tighten our belts even more.” He looked worriedly across the table to Frances.

  “Okay.” She waited for more.

  “We need to find a place where the rent is a little more manageable, so we can stretch out our savings.”

  “I’m fine with that.” Frances encouraged him.

  “Good,” he sighed a small breath of relief. “I’ve looked into it, and our old apartment is available.”

  “Great,” Frances grinned. “We can be next door to Sophia again. But perhaps we should just take the one bedroom apartment for now, just to be safe.”

  “If you’re sure.” Frankie tried to hide his relief.

  “Positive.”

  “I’ll finalize things tomorrow, then.” Frankie nodded, happy to have this one thing off of mind. He should have broached the subject sooner. He didn’t know why he had let himself get tied up in knots over the situation.

  But the actual act of moving was more traumatic than Frankie had imagined. When the gentlemen from Robertson’s Furniture Store came to pick up the houseful of furnishings that he could no longer afford, Frankie could barely look the men in the eye. He purchased all these shiny new pieces with a shake of his hand and his signature on the dotted line. It was obvious now, that his word wasn’t good enough. He was an abject failure. And now these men were here to remove every piece.

  The irony was not lost on him as the very rug he stood on was being pulled out from under his feet, rolled up and carried off on the strong backs of the workers while he stood by helplessly. Only one more signature required, to sign the bottom of the returned goods order. Good, let it go, it was just one more symbol of his failure and he’d rather not look at it.

  He jammed his fists into his pockets after the men left and he looked around the large empty apartment. Their voices rang out in the vacant rooms and the echoes mocked him.

  Frances walked up to her man and snuggled up to his chest, pulling his arms about her waist. As always, whenever the two of them were locked together they were like a small fortress, impenetrable against the pounding waves of the raging seas around them.

  Frankie smoothed her dark hair and whispered the words that were squeezing at his heart. “I feel like I’ve just wasted ten years.”

  Frances tilted her head back to look deep into his blue eyes and placed her finger on his lips. “No. We have our beautiful baby boy, and we have each other. Not one minute has been wasted.”

  “I know that…I didn’t mean…”

  “I know what you mean,” Frances interjected. “It’s only money, Frankie. I’ve walked away from money before. It’s not that bad.” She rubbed her finger across the deep furrow in his brow in an attempt to erase his worry.

  Frankie squeezed her tighter, wondering what on earth he had ever done to deserve this woman. She was the reward for all the pain and loneliness he had endured in his early life. Whatever may come, they were in it together, hand in hand.

  ***

  They moved back to their small apartment where they had first lain in one another’s arms, dreaming their dreams. Back to the tiny space with its well-worn furnishings, back to where they started. But the dreams would be harder to come by this time, and from this point forward, they would never fly as high. There would be an invisible cord forever pulling them down to earth, lest they be carried away on their own insensible wings.

  The move back down the ladder was much quicker than the move up had been. Although there was no joy in climbing back down, Frances co
nsoled herself with the fact that at least they had an apartment to go to, and they still had their dwindling nest egg to sustain them, but for how long?

  Though she had put on her brave face when Frankie talked about moving back here, it had been a blow. She had seen the relief spread across his face when she agreed to the move and she couldn’t help wondering how much he might be hiding from her. Both of them keeping up the brave front for the other. Each of them lying awake at night, wondering how long they had before the fall.

  Day after day, the stories continued to tabulate the losses. She grew weary of the news and stopped reading the papers. There was nothing to be done with this much hopelessness. The city she had always loved was now full of misery. Overflowing with people hanging on by a fingernail.

  She had been sheltered for most of her life, knowing only the best shops and the best restaurants. Never leaving the safety of her pristine sidewalk, she had never seen the ugly side of the city. She knew enough to know that it existed…but it was always…out there. It had never been so close to her before. Now it was on the doorstep and could no longer be ignored.

  When discussing her thoughts with Frankie on the subject, he said, “I wish you had never had to find out about it. I should have been able to protect you from it.”

  “I’m not a little girl, Frankie.” Frances answered softly. “There is no need to create a make believe world for me to live in. Even you cannot shield me from the truth. It’s everywhere.”

  And it was everywhere. As a matter of fact, it was right outside her apartment. It seemed as if there was no end to the evictions and the revolving door at her apartment building as people who couldn’t pay their rent were eventually put out.

  It was difficult to watch people she knew lose their last bit of hope. Women with whom she had shared a cup of coffee the day before now stood before her with a hollow look in their eyes. She would always remember the empty stares as mothers and fathers realized this was the very last step. Many had nowhere to go from here. Nowhere.

  But it was the screams and cries of the children that ripped at her. She couldn’t take the panic and fear in their faces as the little ones were led by the hand out to the street. Each time it happened, you could hear the closing of doors up and down the hallway. Not because people were heartless, but because they cared too much. It was actually one of the last acts of kindness, to allow your neighbor to leave with the dignity of as few witnesses as possible to their shame.

  Everyone in the building knew how fragile their own situation was, and closing the door was the only way to shut out the nightmare. The reality was so close they could smell it. Today it wasn’t them, but tomorrow it might be.

  Frances’s heart went out to everyone involved. She even took pity on their landlord, for he was only doing what he must. Mr. Billingsley often stood by the doorway with tears in his eyes as the order for eviction was executed. He was a family man himself, and the cries of the women and children were something he had to take home each night.

  With each passing day that Frankie came home worn out and empty handed, that possibility moved closer and closer to her own front door. Months and months of a fruitless job search were taking its toll on the man she loved. She was worried that the weight of it would be too much for him. There were deep-set creases on his forehead that seemed to have sprung up overnight.

  Every morning, he would dress in his best suits, his shoes spit-shined and polished to perfection, and he would leave, only to return with slumped shoulders and the light gone from his eyes. It wasn’t merely searching the streets daily for a job that didn’t exist, it’s what he saw on the streets. Silently, he marched past men just like him, men with families, men who once made their way on these busy sidewalks on their morning commute to good jobs. Now, many were reduced to begging, unable to look anyone in the eye. Every day it was a frightening reminder how close he was to the edge.

  Frankie told her once that out on the streets, he was considered part of the problem. When others heard of his employment background, they wanted nothing to do with him. He was part of the evil Wall Street Gang who had called down this plague upon them. As if their own greed had played no part in the murder of the golden goose.

  The only jobs that were available seemed to be for cheap labor, and Frankie soon started trying to dress the part. He was certainly not above a hard day’s work with his hands, but his hands told the story that a laborer, he was not. And when there were only a few openings to be had, the men with calloused palms were chosen first.

  Frances did all that she could. She stretched their meager food budget as far as humanly possible. They lived on meatless pasta meals, and she was thankful for all those early lessons from Mrs. Antonini. She prayed hard every day. She prayed for Frankie to continue to have the strength he needed to see them through. She prayed for everyone she knew. She prayed for an end, and she prayed that God was listening.

  It became obvious after months piled upon months that America was not going to bounce back. In fact it would take years before she found her confidence again.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Frances spoke up during a quiet dinner.

  “Oh no, this can’t be good,” Frankie teased, and she was grateful for the brief moment of levity. His sense of humor had been missing in action for months now.

  “Well, I have several pieces of jewelry that I brought with me and think we should sell them.” She said without fanfare.

  Frankie laid down his fork and stared straight ahead. She could see he’d set his jaw and she knew she’d hit a nerve. She had been struggling to find the right time to talk with her proud husband about this plan.

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Do you have a better one?” Frances challenged. “We sold the car months ago and I heard you talking to Mr. Billingsley last month, asking him if there was anything you could do to lower the rent payments. I know we’re near the end of our nest egg.” She laid her hand over his in a gentle reminder that they were in this together.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said curtly.

  “There is no need to protect me from the truth, Frankie.”

  “And there is no need to talk about selling your family heirlooms. You wouldn’t get anywhere near what they’re worth, anyway. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Frankie shoved his plate away and rose from the table, leaving Frances sitting there silently fuming.

  “What if we’re not fine?” she called after him.

  “I said we’ll be fine.” He shrugged on his coat and hat. “I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that, he slammed the door, effectively shutting her down. But he should have known that Frances would not be so easily dismissed.

  A few days went by with no more said about her plan, when Frankie came home for dinner one day and saw his wife flitting about the apartment as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Louis Armstrong warbled, ‘If I could be with you one more night,’ from the large tabletop radio, candles glowed, and irresistible smells wafted from the kitchen.

  “Have a seat, my love. Dinner will be served in a few minutes.” She took his hat and danced away to the kitchen. Frankie seated himself at the table, spreading the napkin across his lap.

  Frances entered, carrying a large platter with a gorgeous roast, golden potatoes, and roasted vegetables and there were fresh rolls on the table.

  “Mmmmm…smell that.” She presented the feast to her husband, waving the large plate of tempting fare under his nose. “And for dessert…apple pie.” She winked at their old joke.

  “Dessert?” Frankie looked suspiciously at her. “Frances?”

  “Yes?” Frances looked up from preparing his plate, all innocence.

  “Where did you get the money for this spread?”

  “I sold my earrings.” She sat down and replied in a matter of fact tone. “I also paid Mr. Billingsley for three months’ rent, so we don’t have to worry about that for awhile.”

  “You deliberately did it after I told you no
t to?” He was incredulous.

  “I know what you told me. But I rarely do what I’m told. I’m not going to apologize. I have every bit as much right to make decisions about our future as you do.” After all these years, she was still the same girl who had stood on the dock at the lake taking on her older brother in a show of defiance.

  “So you’re saying you don’t believe in me anymore? You don’t believe I can take care of my family?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Frankie. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “It most certainly is what you’re saying.”

  “Well then, you’re twisting the facts to suit yourself, and in doing so you’re twisting yourself into a pretzel.”

  “I told you no. I told you that you had already given up enough to marry me. I asked you to leave me some dignity, for God’s sake.”

  “Where will your dignity be when we’re living on the street?” She was just as agitated as he was now. “Will it make you feel better if I’m wandering the sidewalks wearing my diamond earrings? I’ll be the best-dressed homeless woman on the block. But you’ll have you’re dignity, right?”

  “That’s enough.”

  But Frances had a full head of steam, “This is not just about you, Frankie. We have a family to worry about.”

  “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t kick myself every day of the week?”

  “I know you do. But I was able to help, and instead of being grateful, you’re trying to shame me. I was able to give us a small reprieve by taking the worry about the rent money out of the equation for a few months. And on top of that, I just wanted to have a beautiful meal. You deserve it.”

  “I don’t deserve it,” he said with scorn. “And besides, it’s a waste of money.” He was raising his voice now and his cheeks were red hot. He threw down his napkin with contempt as he stomped across the room to grab his coat.

  “Oh that’s right, storm out again.” Frances stood, too. “Just slam the door on me. Maybe I ought to slam the door on you!”