Bittersweet Legacy

This story contains some references to the following: alcohol abuse, anger, marital discord, death

March 1894 - Watertown, NY

“Are you expecting another child?… Answer me! ANSWER ME!”

“Sshhh… Leo - please…”

“NO! Get rid of it!”

“Shh! The children will hear! I won’t! Leo - what’s happening? If you would just… we had a good marriage, at first - but your drinking has changed -”

“I’m leaving!” 

The door slammed, punctuating Leo’s angry words. Jane, left standing in the kitchen, felt the developing baby flinch - the first detectable movement. She wondered if Leo meant to leave for good, but suspected he would be back. Drunk, no doubt. Patting her still mostly-flat stomach, she whispered, “No matter what - we’ll be all right, baby.” She wasn’t sure about that; she was trying to convince herself.

Four-month-old Flora whimpered from her cradle. Jane swiftly, noiselessly - except for the soft rustling of her skirts - slipped into the children’s room to soothe the baby before she could disturb the sleep of her brothers. 

“Sshhh-sshh-sshhhh,” Jane lulled the tiny girl in a comforting whisper that belied the current state of her own emotions.

In the dim light, Jane’s glance swept over the narrow bed which Johnny, her eldest, now had to share with his little brother. He held the toddler in a loose embrace as they both slept, his own body on the outside edge as a protective barrier to keep the younger boy secure.

Johnny, nearing six years old, was fiercely protective of eighteen-month-old Jimmy. He didn’t particularly like sharing a bed with him, as Jimmy sometimes wet it; nevertheless, there he was, one arm tucked under his brother’s small form and the other arm draped over it. His mouth, relaxed in sleep, hung slightly open; Jane could hear his regular breathing. 

Her steady gaze shifted out of focus as she stood silently, one hand gripping the door frame, thoughts turning to the child they had lost. Johnny, then two, had been aware not of the loss, but of his mama’s distress. He had tried to comfort her, had crawled into her lap and reached up to lock his small arms around her neck. Wordlessly, she had squeezed him close and rocked him, burying her tear-streaked face in his silky baby hair. Leo had been wracked with grief himself, Jane knew, but he had tried to hide it. That sort of emotion was not manly. 

They never spoke of the lost child. Sometimes the heartache could still well up unexpectedly - like a palpable lump in Jane’s throat - when the boys were playing together or when they were all at the table together for a meal. They had two fine boys, but there would be, always, one child who wasn’t there.

Leo had not been happy about the prospect of another baby so soon after Jimmy’s arrival, but he softened when he saw the lovely little girl. A beauty with masses of black, wavy hair, Flora charmed him.

“She looks like my mother,” he remarked, staring at his daughter with a faraway expression. Flora brought peace and happiness back to the family - for a time. Until this night…

Jane left the children’s room and went back to the kitchen, where she sat in the glow of an oil lamp and finished some mending. As her fingers worked, her thoughts drifted to a bittersweet period, soon after the loss of their second baby…

One day, Leo had brought her a special gift. 

“What do you think of it? Will it be helpful?”

“Oh, Leo - it looks perfect! Let me try it out.”

He had designed a work holder for her sewing, and machined it at the shop where he was employed.

“How did you know what I needed?” Jane wondered. 

“I watched you sew.”

The clamp, very cleverly contrived, was made to hold a piece of fabric in place on a table or lap board. Integrated into its design were a spool holder, a thread cutter, and an aperture sized to hold a pincushion. Making it for Jane was Leo’s way of expressing his regard.

She knew he had once had great care for her, but something had gone wrong between them. She could patch a garment, but she didn’t know how to repair the breach in their marriage. 

When Johnny was born, Leo’s brilliant blue eyes had gleamed with pride. He had a lovely young wife, a sturdy, well-formed son, and steady work with a good wage. After the loss of their second child, Leo decided that they would leave Washington, D.C. for upstate New York, where Jane had been raised. He never explained what prompted the decision, and Jane didn’t question it. She was happy to be closer to home. Leo, being a skilled machinist, easily found work in Watertown, where they had settled into the small house on Mill Street. 

The lamp guttered, casting erratic shadows on the walls, and Jane saw that the oil was low. She made the last few stitches, removed the work holder from the table’s edge, and pushed it aside. Making her way to the bedroom, she felt a chill that wasn’t entirely due to the weather.

October 1894 

Leo was at work when the baby arrived. Knowing the time was coming soon, Jane had sent Johnny next door to tell Sarah Mueller. Sarah sent for the midwife, and was willing to keep the children with her for as long as necessary.

“Where is your husband?” asked Mrs. Klein, a large, jolly woman who had efficiently managed the births of innumerable children. 

“He’s at work.”

“Have you sent for him?”

“No.” Jane closed her eyes and offered no explanation. 

Shortly, she gasped, “Oh!” as her body tensed with a spasm of pain. The inquiry ended, the midwife briskly attended to her job, and the baby soon arrived.

“You have a son. Have you chosen a name?”

Some time later Jane slept, little Freddie clasped in her arms and tightly tucked against herself. Mrs. Klein, having performed all the necessary cleanup, sat with her needlework and awaited Leo’s return. Working hours were over, and still he hadn’t come home. Word had gotten around the neighborhood that all was not well between Leo and Jane, and Mrs. Klein was prepared, if necessary, to put aside her cheerful exterior and confront him.

At last, there was a “click”, followed by a soft “thunk!” as the door opened and closed. The master of the house had returned. Mrs. Klein rose to greet him, a finger to her lips. He half-complied, asking in a low tone, 

“Has it been born then?”

“Sshhh… yes,” the midwife whispered. “You have another son. A beautiful boy.” She hesitated, looking guardedly at Leo.

“You haven’t asked - but they’re both well. Come and see?”

March 1895

For a few months, everything seemed to be all right. Jane dared to hope Leo had at least become resigned to Freddie’s presence in the family, but the calm proved to be just the eye of the storm. He began staying out late again, consorting with an undesirable lot, and coming home very drunk. 

Jane was a dedicated mother; whatever the needs of her children, she would provide as much as she was able. It wasn’t easy. Johnny was in school now for most of the day, but there were three other young ones to care for. There was barely more than a year between Jimmy and Flora; just under a year between Flora and Freddie. 

One day Leo came home nearly on time, to find that dinner wasn’t ready and the two youngest were crying.

“It won’t be long,” Jane assured him. “I’ve been so busy with the children -”

“I TOLD YOU,” he roared, pointing at Freddie, “GET RID OF THE BRAT!” 

“Leo!” she implored, “He’s our son! He’s a baby!”

Jane’s own father had been killed in the Civil War, in the very year she was born. Her mother hadn’t felt able to raise her alone, so when baby Jane was seven months old, she had given her over to a childless couple in Ellisburg. Jane shivered now, understanding the agony her mother must have gone through in making that brave decision. She had been in a very different position than the one Leo was trying to inflict on Jane. 

Filled with resolve, Jane stiffened and faced Leo, her usually soft chocolate brown eyes stony. Her mother had possessed the courage to give up her baby; Jane could summon the courage to keep her own. She would protect all of her children to her full capacity.

Inhaling deeply, nostrils flaring, Jane suddenly paused and turned to her eldest child.

“Johnny, take the little ones in the bedroom and shut the door.”

When the children had left the room, she drew herself up tall and addressed Leo in a low, ragged voice.

“If you don’t want Freddie, just go!” She pointed at the door. 

Surprisingly, her spunk seemed to deflate Leo. He stared blankly at her, then dropped his eyes and wordlessly crossed the kitchen to the hallway.

“Children, let’s go and get washed up. Your mother almost has the dinner ready.”

January 1897

“I have an opportunity to take a job in Baltimore,” Leo informed Jane.

“Baltimore!” she exclaimed, “That’s a long way!”

“Yes. But it’s better pay and an opportunity to advance.” Jane was quiet.

“Will you come?” 

She looked at him levelly and sighed.

“Do you want me? Do you want your family?”

July 1897

In June, Leo had departed for his new job in Baltimore. After some consideration, Jane had decided that she and the children would stay in Watertown for the summer and let him settle into his new job. 

Johnny was nine years old now, and able to help his mother with the packing.

“Ma,” he inquired as they were boxing up some winter clothes, “do you think Pa will be happy to see us?”

Jane turned and looked soberly at her son. Sometimes she wondered how much he took in. His blue eyes, so similar to his father’s, could darken and close off his feelings. She tried to respond lightly,

“I hope so, Johnny. We’re his family, after all!” 

September 1897 - Baltimore, MD

Leo welcomed his wife and children to their new home, seeming genuinely pleased at their arrival.

“You’ve grown!” he smiled, ruffling Johnny’s hair. He patted Jimmy on the head and lifted Flora in his arms. Jane, holding Freddie, smiled wistfully. Would they have a happy life here in Baltimore?

For a while, they did. Leo was promoted to shop foreman and got another pay increase. The family relaxed into a regular routine, until Leo started feeling the stress of his position. He fell back into the old cycle of drinking and being verbally abusive. 

He was unpredictable. Sometimes kind and generous, he gave Jane a little extra for household expenses. Other times, he was mean both in temperament and with his money. Jane so desperately wanted to keep her family together that she tried to overlook the bad times and appreciate the good ones. And always, she tried to teach her children good qualities.

She kept up the house, cooked the meals, and noticed that - despite Leo’s increased income and her own carefulness - the money was not sufficient. She knew, in her heart, that he was spending his earnings on alcohol and women. 

October 1899

Freddie was almost five. Jane wanted to invite a small group of neighborhood children to join in celebrating his birthday, and she tried to choose the right moment to broach the subject to Leo. He had been staying out late most evenings, and she didn’t see much of him. 

After a meager supper, of which Jane had barely partaken, Johnny helped get his three little siblings to bed. This house was bigger than the one back in Watertown; Flora and Freddie shared one bedroom, Johnny and Jimmy another. When the younger ones were asleep, Johnny followed his mother back out to the kitchen.

“Ma?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s Pa?”

Jane’s shoulders slumped.

“I don’t know. Go to bed, son. He’ll be back later.”

“He’s never here anymore,” Johnny scowled. “And when he’s here, he’s in a bad mood and shouts at us.”

The next day, Leo came into the kitchen as they were sitting down to supper. Jane started to get up from her seat.

“I’ll lay a place for you.” 

“You weren’t waiting for me?” He scowled, looking just like Johnny had the previous night.

“You haven’t been with us for supper in several days,” Jane answered flatly, standing with a hand on the back of her chair.

“I’m here now!” he bellowed, thrusting out his jaw.

The children were staring. Johnny started to get up, but Jane tightened her lips and shook her head silently. Jimmy and Flora sat with big eyes and open mouths. Freddie let out a frightened whimper, and Leo swiveled to glare at his youngest child. Freddie’s eyes, blue as his father’s, welled up with tears.

“What’s the matter with you?” Leo taunted. “Are you a baby?”

“Leo! You stop that!” Jane commanded, stepping toward him. 

“You don’t tell me what to do - I’m the man of the house! I should never have allowed you to keep him. He’s just another mouth to feed.”

“STOP!” 

Freddie was sniffling, tears running down his face. Jane brushed past her husband and put her arms protectively around the little boy from behind his chair. Leo appeared unmoved.

“GET RID OF THE BRAT,” he thundered, “OR I’M LEAVING!”

Jane drew in a deep breath, lifted her chin, and spoke with uncanny calmness,

“Then you’ll be leaving.”

June 1900

“Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.”

“Ma, there’s someone knocking,” Johnny called out. Jane laid aside her sewing - work taken in from neighboring households - and wearily headed to the door. She kept it locked at all times. Leo had tried to come back, once, but Jane had refused to let him in. She had him arrested for abandonment, and was waiting for news of court proceedings.

A stranger stood on the doorstep.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m collecting data for the national census. I need to ask you some questions about your household.”

Jane gave her own name as head of household. She answered that she was married - but didn’t include Leo among the household members. Children? She was the mother of five, four living. Her occupation? Seamstress. 

July 1901

A court notice was published in all the Baltimore newspapers, announcing Judge Sharp’s arbitration of several marital disputes in the criminal court. Among them was the case of Leo and Jane. 

She had testified that her husband was not supporting his family as he should; he had been spending his earnings on drink and other women. She told Judge Sharp that she was forced to earn a living for herself and her children. In return, Leo, appearing contrite, stated that he was ready to be a proper husband and provide for his family if his wife was willing to take him back. 

The judge looked over his glasses at Jane.

“Ma’am, your husband seems to have a sincere desire to return to his family. I recommend you allow him to redeem himself.” He turned to Leo.

“I place full trust in you. I will release you on a year’s probation.”

September 1901

Judge Sharp’s trust was misplaced. Leo was not home more than six weeks when he began staying out late again. It was too much for Jane. She felt always on edge, never knowing when Leo would explode in anger. She locked the door.

October 1901

“Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.”

“Ma, someone’s at the door.” 

“Special delivery, ma’am. Sign here, please.”

Jane took the envelope with a shaking hand. The return address was that of an attorney’s office.

The letter stated that Leo had filed for divorce and custody of children. When they went to the court again, he was instead ordered to provide for them while they remained with their mother. 

Jane didn’t know where he was staying; the money was given to her through the attorney’s office. And then it stopped coming. Word came that Leo had passed away. Jane didn’t know whether to believe it or not; maybe he had simply disappeared and started a new life somewhere else.

June 1903 - Washington, DC

“Children, we’re moving to Washington, DC.” Jane decided. She didn’t want to stay in Baltimore any longer.She had heard that it was easier to get work in the capital, but it was difficult for a woman with four children to support. Despite her efforts, she didn’t bring in enough income. 

They had no credit at the store. When she was able to put a meal on the table, she pretended she wasn’t hungry. The children were always hungry, hunting down crumbs by licking their fingers and running them along the pantry shelves.

January 1905 

Jane was getting thinner and thinner. She felt weak, and had developed a chronic cough. She wasn’t able to do much sewing any more, and Johnny had taken a job as delivery boy for the corner store to help feed the family.

June 1906

Freddie was not yet twelve years old when his mother passed away at age forty-two. He and his siblings were placed in an orphanage, and then taken to separate foster homes.

Freddie was treated poorly by many who took him in. They only wanted a servant, not a son. Through every experience, he maintained a sweet and cheerful disposition. 

He became a storyteller. At age seventeen, he began writing. Poetry was his preferred style, and he wrote reams of it. Sixty years of poems, neatly typed up and stored in binders. When he wasn’t writing poetry, he was telling stories orally; wonderful, dramatic accounts of real events in his adventure-filled life. 

*****

There is a storytelling gene in this family. It must be a dominant one; it has expressed itself, in one form or another, in four successive generations. 

I wonder… Did it come from his mother, or his father?