Portion of the Sea (45 page)

And several weeks later, Jack started eating like a baby pelican. Just as parent pelicans take turns collecting and regurgitating food for their little ones, Marlena and I took shifts feeding him at night. I needed her help with the nighttime feedings. I had returned to work as planned, just a few days after getting home from the hospital, and I was exhausted, drinking way too much coffee to get me through my days.

I felt bad being Jack’s mommy and leaving him every day like I was. It wasn’t my dream situation. I wanted to be the one to hear him crying when he first woke and to bathe him and rock him to sleep for his late morning and afternoon naps.

I fought back tears as I kissed him good-bye each morning. And I reminded myself that I wasn’t abandoning him. Rather, like a mother turtle headed out to sea, I was doing what I had to so I could make the money for us to live and eat. My heart beat wildly for my son, and I was happy to have a heart again, but along with a heart comes pain, and I ached for my son every hour I was at work.

Marlena had extended the roundtrip tickets I sent her and stayed with us through the summer. “You’re good with him,” I marveled one day as she held him a special way on her arms, the only way that would calm his colicky tummy. “How do you know what to do all the time?”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes widening. “I’m acting.”

I laughed. “Then can you teach him to sing like you did those twelve boys of yours in the movie?”

“I can try,” she said, smiling and pacing around the room with his tummy resting on her outstretched arm.

We never talked about how long she planned on staying. I think we were both taking it one day at a time, but one evening, when I got home from work, I peeked at Jack who was sleeping, then I noticed enough packages of diapers to last Jack until potty training. And lying on the floor, since I had no closet in this apartment, was a new wardrobe of clothes to fit him until he was a two-year-old toddler.

“Marlena,” I whispered with tears in my eyes. “What is all of this?”

“Look in the freezer,” she said. “I stocked you up with meat. It should be enough for six months.”

“You didn’t have to do all of that. You’ve done too much already.”

“There’s something else,” she said. “I looked at apartments today. You and Jack need more space. It’s insane that you’re in this one-room place with a baby.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m ashamed. I was embarrassed to have you see it, especially since I have no guest room.”

“No, it’s not about me. The cot has been fine. But it’s time you move.”

I walked over to the crib and watched little Jack sleeping on his tummy with his little behind sticking up in the air. As usual, he was lying in his favorite top right corner of the crib.

The apartment I was living in wasn’t the sort of place I’d ever imagine bringing a baby home to. But I had never imagined having a baby. I remembered the look of shock in Marlena’s eyes the moment she first arrived and saw the place, but I hadn’t wanted to discuss it. I was embarrassed that I had invited her here to help me, and then had only a cot for her to sleep on.

For me, the place was fine. I had grown used to it and learned that I could add beauty to the most ugly of rooms simply by putting up a border of paper and then gluing seashells to it. And the walls were decorated with torn-out pictures from last year’s calendar, framed. Jack saw blue skies, oceans, boats, and sandy beaches on the walls around his crib.

Except for the lack of space and of closets for my work clothes, I had forgotten how bad the place truly was. And Jack was too young to care. He didn’t need a fancy nursery, I told myself. Those are for the mothers, mostly. He only needed my love and his basic needs: feedings, diaper changes, a clean environment, and secure arms around him.

I was doing fine at work, but I was still working to put food on our plates, and until I started bringing home more money I couldn’t think about moving into a bigger place. There were many things I wanted to put my money toward, like a nanny and Jack’s education. And I could tell by the way Marlena had stocked up my apartment with essentials that it was soon time for her to leave and get on with her own life.

I closed the freezer and turned to look at her. “I will move into a bigger place, but now is not the time,” I said. “I’m planning to move out of the women’s department soon, and I’ll be getting a salary increase.”

“I can help you,” she said. “I can lend you money in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But no. You’ve already helped me by being here all this time. I know you’ve got your own life, and movies to make.”

“I’m going to miss you and Jack horribly,” she said. “I’m not leaving until you find someone to stay with him during the days. I’ll stay however long it takes you. And then I’ll visit regularly.”

“I don’t think I can ever thank you enough,” I said.

“You don’t have to. You have given me a precious gift. I never had any children of my own. You are a daughter to me, and now I love Jack as my grandson. I’ve been wondering how I could thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

I hugged her, and we both wiped the tears from our eyes. “Did you ever want children?” I asked.

“Yes and no. I guess I believed that the dreams a girl has for her life are more valuable than anything else in life. I guess there’s good and bad to
that. I put so much into pursuing my dreams that one day I woke up and it was too late to ever have a child of my own. But God has blessed me with you. I’m so glad you had him.”

I felt just as blessed. “What have you got planned for yourself?” I asked her.

“I’m headed back to Sanibel for awhile, and then I’m off to London again. They’re starting another film, and I’ve found that directing is what I love to do. I’ll be directing the next two films and playing a supporting role in the third. It’s a big lineup, so it’ll be a busy few years.”

“You’ll do great, I’m sure.”

And then there was an awkward look in Marlena’s eyes, and she looked uncomfortable with what she was about to say. “Lydia.”

“Yes?”

“Have you thought about telling Jack’s father?”

I shook my head. “Don’t go there, Marlena. I can do this on my own. I may not be like Ava, with her rich husband to rely on, but I can manage just fine.” I felt bad not telling him, but it had been his choice that morning to leave without telling me his plans with the Peace Corps. And now, if he knew all of this, he might marry me out of obligation, not love.

“Okay, dear. It’s your choice,” she said. “Did I tell you that I brought more of Ava’s journal?”

“No.”

“I did, and I’ll leave you with it when I go.”

“How is she?” I asked. “How is Ava enjoying her life of glamour?”

“I’ll let you read for yourself and find out.”

XL

I MISSED MARLENA THE
moment she left and couldn’t wait to see her in the next film. It was early morning, and the sun was rising over the city as she closed the door behind her, waking Jack without knowing. She didn’t want his eyes watching her as she said farewell and walked through the door. I watched through the window as she stepped into a taxi and it took off for the airport, and then I walked over to Jack’s crib and lifted him into my arms.

It was my day off and I was thrilled to spend it doing nothing but loving and holding Jack. I kissed him on his cheek, then his nose, and then his chin. I laid him on my bed and changed his diaper, kissing him on the tummy. His tiny toes kicked with joy as he looked up at me. I pulled a cozy, dry sleeper over his head, and then kissed him again.

I held him in my arms, walking around the room, stopping to look at the pictures on our walls. He especially liked staring at the one of the boat on the blue sea. Once the sun rose above the building next to ours, I pulled the shade up on a window facing the east and spread a baby blanket down on the spot where a sunbeam had landed. It was Jack’s favorite spot and Marlena used to rest him there every morning at this time. He cooed with delight when I turned on classical music.

I then pulled Ava’s journal out from the drawer and sat on the warm floor next to Jack and began to read. I was surprised to see that nearly nine years had passed since her last entry. It was like not hearing from a good
friend in a long, long time, and there were things I wanted to know.

NEW YORK CITY
1914, nine years later

Ava

A woman’s life follows a course as elaborate as the intricate interior kingdom of a seashell. At times she finds herself living, working, or spending her energy in a darkened area not to her liking, but soon she backs out of it or turns herself around and heads for another. There are many corridors to explore and experience and a woman doesn’t dwell her entire life in just one. But there will always be that one corridor that she remembers, the one with the glimpse of the sea, and it was the most beautiful of places to be, the one she’d return to if she could
.

My life took a busy turn, and I set all personal writing in my journal aside for many years. People always told me God never gives a woman more than she can handle, but three sons had me questioning everything anyone said. It could have been worse—He could have given me three daughters.

The baby-making assembly line within me produced sons as quickly as Henry Ford cranked out automobiles, and, then, after churning out the third, it shut down for a reason unbeknownst to me. And just as it was with the automobiles, it was love at first sight with each of my sons, arriving at the rate of one every twenty-one months.

Where did the years go? I don’t know. But now that the boys are six, eight, and ten, I can only look back and smile, for raising them were the best years of my life.

“Thank you, sweetie,” I said as my youngest skipped into my bedroom like a gust of wind, handed me a red carnation, and blew me a kiss, and then skipped out as quickly as he had come in. It was the second Sunday in May, and President Woodrow Wilson had signed a proclamation designating
it as Mother’s Day.

“One from you too,” I exclaimed as my middle son walked in, teasingly holding the carnation up. I think he wanted me chasing him through the house and tackling him on the couch until the flower was mine. But I hadn’t done anything fun or silly like that in some time, so, instead, I sat up in bed and reached my arm out and took the flower from his hand. I smiled and gave him a wink. “You boys have a nice day out there today.”

He nodded, and a second later I could hear him jogging down the long hall toward the front door. They were handsome boys, and charming, turning the heads of girls way too old for them. One day soon they’d be giving flowers to wives of their own, and I would miss them dearly. I wasn’t at all ready for any of that. I was clinging to walls of the corridor I had cherished all these years. And I still had more time there.

Leo and I had done a fine job at raising them this far. Whenever I spent too much time with the boys practicing piano or reading poetry or pointing out the beautiful varieties of leaves and flowers and trees, their father stepped in and taught them to be men. He had them work hard, helping in his office with financial calculations, budgets, and dimensions of ad spaces. And where I instilled in the boys an appreciation and a sense of thankfulness for any gifts ever given to them, Leo made them work hard for everything they wanted. We didn’t want our boys growing up believing that the luxuries of the world were going to be handed to them and that they didn’t have to do their share.

It would have been easy to give them everything they wanted. My writing slowed but continued after the first baby and Leo continued rising through the ranks of his career. He was good at the financial and creative aspects of both catalog and magazine publishing, and by the time I took our third son home from the hospital, my husband had already become associate publisher of a publication boasting the nation’s highest circulation.

I was fully engaged being the mommy of three boys. and I no longer had time as I once did to care about, let alone set up, interviews and work toward deadlines. In 1903 I did start writing articles about a womens’ suffrage society and continued for seven years until they resorted to acts of defiance to gain attention and further their causes for the rights and advancement
of women. It was then that Leo insisted my coverage of it end.

“I believe women should have the right to vote,” he said one evening. “But I don’t like these extremists.”

“If it weren’t for groups of aggressive women, I might still be wearing a corset. I’m grateful to these women, Leo.”

“I respect the milestones, dear, but the tactics they’re using are getting out of control. I don’t want my wife writing articles about women who chain themselves to railings and set fire to the content of mailboxes.”

“I agree, but maybe if the country would give them a respectable venue to voice their opinions, they’d no longer resort to such measures to get heard.”

Around the same time in 1910 I heard word from a business associate who had relatives living in Florida that a storm hit Sanibel, the worst in the history of that island. I tried not to start thinking about Jaden again, but it was hard. I prayed and was later relieved to hear no one was killed.