A Woman of Independent Means

by Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey

  At my insistence my mother-in-law has moved to St. Louis to share our home. She keeps your old piano in her room and gives daily lessons to the children. Their love for her makes them more diligent pupils than they would be otherwise, I am sure, and even little Eleanor, who is not quite five, goes dutifully to her grandmother’s room every morning to practice her scales. In the afternoon the boys practice and it is only in the evening, when their patient teacher sits down to play, that recognizable chords can be heard coming from the room.

  I would love to have the house filled with music all day and once the children have acquired some small ability, we will move the piano downstairs into the central living area. But for now it is a blessing (for their parents, that is) to have their early efforts inaudible to all ears but those of their teacher. The proximity of the sounds of practice will no doubt inspire her to even greater efforts in furthering their musical education. No doubt there are often times when she would gladly exchange the noisy companionship to which her role as grandmother entitles her for the solitude you find so oppressive.

  There must be many interesting lives gathered under the same roof with you. Sharing someone else’s life—even for a few minutes a day—is not always easy but I feel sure you would find it worth the effort. I find it is that constant ebb and flow from solitude to society (in its broadest usage) that allows one to experience life in all its variety. Too much of either is unendurable—at least to me. Please write again soon. Though my own life is filled with activity, letters encourage momentary escape into other lives, and I come back to my own with greater contentment.

  Affectionately,

  Bess

  July 10, 1918

  St. Louis

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  How I wish you could be with us this summer. The garden is in full bloom, as are the children. It has been almost two years since Eleanor’s accident but my heart still turns over with joy every time I catch an unexpected glimpse of her running and playing with her brothers. As hard as they try to elude her, she is never far behind—and when she finally does catch up, she always greets them with a radiant smile, never guessing that they might not be as glad to see her as she is to see them. I know now good health is a gift and I will never again take it for granted.

  I am so sorry, Papa, that your heart condition prevents you from planning a trip to St. Louis. I would like for you to see how well Cousin Josie’s furniture fits into our new home. Since she insisted on taking the four-poster bed with her, I have furnished our master bedroom with the two twin beds from the guest room. However, it has occurred to me that the two of you might enjoy the comfort of twin beds, especially in view of Papa’s present difficulty in breathing. Many married couples, as they grow older, change their furnishings to conform to their changing circumstances. Why don’t I ship the beds on to you—and you can send me the double bed my mother brought with her as a bride to Honey Grove. I know she always intended for me to have it some day, and it would mean a great deal to me if that day could be now.

  Lovingly,

  Bess

  August 10, 1918

  St. Louis

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  Not having had a reply to my last letter, I was astonished when the bed arrived yesterday without an accompanying word.

  I hope my suggestion did not offend you, but please be assured your comfort was my prime consideration. I assume you do not want the twin beds I mentioned. They are in very good condition, and if you place them side by side, the effect is entirely one of shared repose. However, I will wait to hear from you before I send them in case I have misunderstood your intentions.

  Rob knew nothing of my letter to you so was completely taken by surprise when he arrived home this weekend and found the double bed waiting in our room. We have been separated so much by recent events that when we are together we cherish our closeness. I could not bear the thought of buying a bed when I knew my mother had always intended for me to have hers, but thank you for allowing me an early inheritance.

  My love,

  Bess

  September 16, 1918

  St. Louis

  Dear Mavis,

  I was shocked to learn from your last letter how much Papa’s health has failed in recent months. I am writing him separately so please do not share this letter with him as I want to be able to express my anxieties openly with you.

  I understand now your delay in responding to my inquiry about the beds. Of course you will have no need for the matching twin beds now. I think your decision to occupy separate bedrooms is very wise and one which I frankly would have urged on you some time ago in view of Papa’s advancing years had I not been afraid of intruding into the more private realms of marriage.

  I can imagine the devoted care you have been giving Papa and I envy the nurse’s training you received as part of your college education; however, I would feel so much better about both of you if there were a professional nurse in residence also. Heart patients require constant vigilance, and it is a physical impossibility for one person to be on guard around the clock. You must protect your own health—for Papa’s sake as well as your own.

  I don’t think I have ever expressed to you how much your presence has meant to him—and to all of us who love him. He had very little desire to go on with his own life once Mama died and, unlike many parents, he was much too proud and independent to share mine. You have done for my father what no dutiful daughter is able to do, and I am so grateful for all that you have given him. I hope and pray there are still many years ahead for you both, and in that hope I urge you to conserve your energies by sharing your duties with a nurse.

  I know my father’s reluctance to spend money for anything he considers an extravagance, so I am writing to tell him the nurse is a gift from me. She will only be doing what I would be doing if I were there—but with a great deal more efficiency and skill. I will leave it to you to make the arrangements but I urge you to do so immediately. I am sure you are exhausted, and we cannot afford to have two patients.

  Devotedly,

  Bess

  October 10, 1918

  St. Louis

  Dearest Papa and Mavis,

  I was very distressed to learn there were no trained nurses in your area available for private employment. But I certainly do not consider the matter closed.

  I am writing Lydia to make inquiries in Dallas. And Mother Steed remembers with great affection the nurse who took care of Father Steed during his last illness. She has since retired and now lives with her sister in Wichita Falls but she would undoubtedly welcome the chance to renew her friendships in Honey Grove and Papa might enjoy the company of someone his own age for a change. I will contact her immediately and let you know when I hear from her.

  Devotedly,

  Bess

  November 5, 1918

  St. Louis

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  Peace at last! There is much joy in the streets here. Total strangers smile at one another and clasp hands.

  I was in the garden working when I heard the news—from a delivery boy shouting at the top of his lungs as he drove his truck down the street. Our gardener was beside me on his knees, taking in bulbs for the winter. He sprang to his feet, threw his arms around me, and kissed me. I cried for joy and kissed him back and it was minutes later before either of us even seemed surprised at what we had done. Then tears began to roll down his cheeks and he said his son’s life had been spared. He was too young for the last draft, but the next one would have taken him. I shared his joy. I have been terrified wondering how much longer Rob would be spared active service. I do not think I could be one of those wives who bravely send their husbands off to die. I am a good citizen but I am a better wife. My gardener now says that his son will never know what war is like. I pray he is right.

  Miss Sarah Powell, the nurse who took care of Father Steed, will be arriving to help you next week. I have sent her first month’s salary in advance. We had no difficulty agreeing on the
amount but it is based on the assumption that she will do everything you ask of her. If you feel she is remiss in this regard, please let me know before I send next month’s salary.

  We think of you hourly, and our Thanksgiving prayers will begin with one for Papa’s quick return to good health.

  Lovingly,

  Bess

  December 5, 1918

  St. Louis

  Dearest Totsie,

  The news that you and Dwight are adopting a baby is the most appropriate Christmas greeting you could have sent. What a joyous experience awaits you! You must not worry about Dwight’s reluctant consent. I wonder how many men would freely elect fatherhood if the decision were left entirely to them. It is fortunate for the future of the race that it is almost never their decision.

  No returning soldier could have received a more jubilant welcome home than Rob. His pace for the last year has been grueling, and I realize now he has kept himself going purely by an effort of will. I hope he will be able to rest now that he is home for good. However, he is concerned about the amount of time he has spent away from the business and anxious to move ahead with expansion plans designed to capitalize on the spirit of optimism already engendered by the Armistice.

  The New Year will truly mark a new beginning for us all. And a new life will be joining you. Now that Eleanor is five and in many ways already an eccentric little adult, I am beginning to miss the presence of a baby in the house. But I suppose I must give Rob a few months to renew his acquaintance with the children he already has. However, next year at this time we may have a nativity of our own to celebrate.

  Je t’embrasse—and

  Dwight too,

  Bess

  Deck the halls and forget the past

  Our husbands and fathers are home at last!

  So lift your glasses and give a cheer

  For a joyous Christmas and a peaceful New Year.

  Bess and Rob Steed

  Robin, Drew, and Eleanor

  January 3, 1919

  St. Louis

  Dear Lydia,

  We loved having all of you here for Christmas. It was especially good to see Manning again. Your frequent letters keep us close to you, but Manning has become a stranger to us. I must admit Rob and I were quite unprepared for his decision to leave the insurance business and enter the academic world. But we admire your decision to take a teaching job to support the family while he completes his graduate studies. I trust this new field of endeavor will satisfy his interests as a person and at the same time enable him to fulfill his responsibilities to his family. I am fortunate to be married to a man who takes such joy in his business, quite apart from the financial rewards, but I must confess to an equal fascination with the world of high finance. I know Rob will miss having Manning as a partner but I hope he will compensate by confiding more often in me.

  Thank God we have won the war and can start working toward goals of our own. How I look forward to the coming year!

  I must close now. Rob has been in bed for hours. He comes home from the office so exhausted that he is often already asleep by the time I read the children their bedtime stories. While he was away, I came to look upon the late night hours as my own. With the children asleep and the house quiet, I could escape completely into my own thoughts. I thought this would change once Rob was home, but it’s hard to break the habit—and many nights I don’t even feel like trying. I suppose that is why I do most of my letter writing at night. With pen in hand I can carry on my end of a conversation even though the other party is asleep. Still, it will be morning soon so I must try to rest. What a waste of time spending so many hours unconscious, eyes and ears closed to the beauty of the world. If I live to be a hundred, the days will never be long enough for me.

  Write soon. I love hearing from you.

  Love to you all,

  Bess

  January 10, 1919

  St. Louis

  Dear Mavis,

  I have been meaning to write since Christmas, but the holidays left us all exhausted, and I am afraid the children paid for their “visions of sugarplums” with aching tummies. At last I dare say that is all it was. With influenza running rampant, no mother dares dismiss even the most common childhood illness, and I was terrified when one child after another showed the same symptoms.

  Eleanor was the first to complain of stomach pains and the next day Drew joined her. Sturdy little Robin was the last to succumb, but one afternoon when I had tucked the other two in bed for a nap, he crawled in beside them and that night none of us slept. But the worst is over now and tonight all three are curled up beside their father in my mother’s big double bed reenacting the battles of the war with their toy soldiers.

  Miss Powell wrote of Papa’s improvement, but I was glad to have your letter confirming her report. I am so happy she has relieved you of your responsibilities in the kitchen. Now you have more time to spend with Papa. You mustn’t worry that you are neglecting him by no longer cooking for him. Remember, he married you for your mind, not your lemon meringue pie.

  Please encourage Papa to follow Miss Powell’s advice about proper eating habits. If you need any help along this line, do not hesitate to let me know. My father would swear he never took an order from a woman in his life, but looking back, I realize now it was my mother who made most of the decisions that shaped our lives. I always envied her ability to insinuate her ideas into other people’s minds while remaining docile and eager to please on the surface. I have never been patient enough to practice this subterfuge and fortunately with my own husband it has not been necessary. We grew up being outspoken with one another and marriage has mercifully failed to impose more conventional manners on our relationship. But I know from past experience the flattery required to get my father to change his mind about anything, and I will be happy to help in any way I can.

  Fondly,

  Bess

  January 25, 1919

  St. Louis

  Dear Marvin,

  Rob awoke in the night with severe chest pains. I was able to persuade him to stay in bed today by promising to drive down to your office personally and put these contracts on your desk so that you would find them waiting on your return from Kansas City. He is most anxious to talk to you about the trip and discuss your feelings about opening a branch office there, so please call immediately.

  However, allow me to interject a wifely word of caution at this point. In the last year Rob spent all his reserves of energy on the war bond campaign. He is simply in no condition to oversee an ambitious expansion program at this time. If you could advise a delay as a result of your findings on this trip, it would allow him time to recover at least some of his former strength.

  As a stockholder I know the importance of moving ahead when the time is right but not at the risk of ruining the health of the man who began the business in the first place. I cannot take care of him alone. I can stand between my children and anything that threatens their well-being, but I can only stand beside my husband. I need your help—and so does he.

  Bess

  January 30, 1919

  St. Louis

  Dear Lydia and Manning,

  Thank you both for writing. Your letters were so full of love and support I broke into tears when I read them. I had to compose myself before I took them in to Rob. I wish I could tell you he was feeling better but since I wrote you his exhaustion has given way to influenza—not a severe case according to the doctor, which I suppose means he has seen worse, but I haven’t.

  Rob seems so weak and helpless—and for the first time in his life welcomes every suggestion I make. Though I have always prided myself on an independent spirit, I see now I have been like a child, stubbornly insisting I can do everything alone but secure in the knowledge that someone wiser and stronger was waiting in the background, ready to help at the first sign of trouble. Whenever I have attempted anything on my own, Rob has always been standing by—to be summoned at a single cry. In my vanity I have thought I stood beside him
as an equal, but in the past few days, with our roles reversed, I have felt for the first time the weight of unspoken dependence on my shoulders. I am just beginning to understand what enormous demands a wife and children make on a man—even though they may never ask for anything.

  How I wish the two of you were here with me. During the holidays, as we went from one party to another, I felt as if I had lived in St. Louis all my life. Now suddenly I am a stranger here. I am afraid Rob may not recover and I cannot imagine life without him. When Papa was so ill last fall, I was able to accept the possibility of his death. I was filled with sorrow and determined to do everything in my power to prevent it, but I was prepared to be told that nothing could save him. I thought at the time my attitude was mature and reasonable but now it seems callous and insensitive. How dare we not be outraged by death, at whatever age it occurs!

  Oh, my dears, keep your hearts close to mine. My own beats so loudly it obliterates the dreadful silence that surrounds me.

  Bess

  February 1, 1919

  St. Louis

  Dear Miss Powell,

  This is an urgent appeal for your help. My husband is gravely ill and there is no one here I can trust as I do you. Please come to us.

  My father is nearly recovered now and in my mind you are the reason. I have to believe you can accomplish the same miracle for my husband. Enclosed is a check to cover transportation costs and a month’s salary. Please write me your arrival time and I will meet the train personally. I am desperate. The doctor says nothing can be done. Influenza must run its course. But I cannot stand by helplessly watching my husband suffer. You must come. You have my gratitude in advance—and forever.