Portraits (91 page)

After everyone had left and Jacob had gone to bed, the three sisters discussed what should be done about papa.

“Well,” Lillian said, “he certainly can’t go on living in this house. What do you think we should do?”

“Obviously there’s only one solution to this,” Rachel said. “We’re just going to have to put him in a home. I mean, even if we had help here to take care of him, he’d die of loneliness. Their marriage wasn’t always a bed of roses, but in his own way he did love her. After living with her for nearly seventy years I don’t think he’s going to be able to deal with the loneliness.”

Doris spoke up now, “Well, I think there’s maybe another alternative.”

Both sisters looked at her.

Rachel said, “And what’s that, Doris?”

“Papa’s going to come home and live with me.”

Both sisters were shocked, though for different reasons.

“Doris, do you know what you’re saying? You’re taking on the responsibility of an old man who’s almost sightless and deaf,” Lillian said in exasperation. “I think you’ve gone a little crazy.”

“Well, maybe…But one of the reasons papa bought this house was because it gave him the space he needed. I don’t know why, but he always seemed terribly afraid of being shut away. There’s just no way he can be happy in a convalescent home.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rachel said. “Why are you doing this? To prove how noble you are and how terrible we are—?”

“No, I’m doing it because papa has the right to live out his life in dignity and not be shut away like an animal. And don’t tell me about my nobility. It’s what I
want
to do.”

Rachel put her hands on her hips and looked at Doris. “After the way you’ve been treated, you’d take the responsibility of papa?”

Doris lost her patience. “You know something, Rachel? I think you’ve inherited a lot of the worst in mama, no matter how much you wanted to get away from her. Maybe that’s why you two had so much trouble…Where were you all these years? I needed the family, I had no one else to turn to. And now that I don’t need your help you’re worried about me!”

“Doris, what happened wasn’t our fault,” Lillian said. “It was papa and mama who—” Lillian broke off when she saw the look on Doris’ face.

“Lillian, I’m surprised at you. You made your choice with mama and papa. I don’t know all the reasons and I don’t care…it doesn’t matter anymore…But I do know you never had enough guts to say, Look, Doris never did anything to me…But as for what we’re really here to talk about, the other reason I want to take papa is because I have to live with myself, too…Anyway, it’s my decision, and if it makes you feel guilty, that’s your problem. And as for what mama and papa did to me, it doesn’t seem very important when you think of where mama’s sleeping tonight.”

Lillian began to cry. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way about me, Doris…But I mean very, very sincerely for your sake, you’re taking on an enormous responsibility—”

“Well, I guess mother’s day is never going to be over for me. Who knows, maybe that’s what I was put on this earth for…Well, if it’s okay with everybody, I’m going upstairs and get some rest. It’s been a hard day for all of us.”

When she’d gone, Rachel lit a cigarette and said, “Lillian, do you honestly think she’s doing this from the goodness of her heart?”

Lillian looked at Rachel as she thought back to that Christmas when Doris had taken her to Capwell’s Department Store and all the other times they had shared. How great their love and devotion had been then. How had they come to lose that feeling? Her own weakness and fear were to blame, and she knew it. “I don’t quite get what you mean, Rachel.”

“Don’t you really? Well, consider that papa’s a very, very rich man and—”

“Rachel, Doris implied it and she was right…I paid the price for what I got from mama and papa. And the price was high, take it from me, Rachel. But you…you’ve all the money you could ever need, and you’re worried about papa’s money? Well, to answer your question, yes, I think Doris is doing this out of the goodness of her heart. As a matter of fact, I wonder how she ever got into this family.”

O
TTO AND HELGA HAD
been with Sara and Jacob for so long there was little problem persuading them to move into the city and continue on as members of the family. Otto had lowered his eyes in gratitude when Doris told him how much he was needed. With Sara’s death they had felt their services would no longer be required, and they had wondered how they could ever find another position, especially at their ages.

Otto would take over Jacob’s care, Helga would maintain her status as housekeeper, and Mrs. Henderson would continue in her role as Henry’s companion. But Doris would provide the love, making sure that their days would be spent as human beings, not outcasts.

All the pieces would fall into place, Doris thought. Lillian, her children and grandchildren, would be frequent visitors. The holidays would be spent as a family at Doris’ home, and if Rachel happened to be in town the door wouldn’t be slammed in her face. It was late in the day for slamming doors…better to open them…Michele, Steven and Pamela would come from time to time—and by God, she was going to send for Gary and her grandchildren, once and for all.

When she brought Jacob home, he was settled in Michele’s old room with his own familiar furnishings around him. After a week or so he seemed somehow more at peace and the adjustment was really not as difficult as Doris had anticipated it would be.

It was nine o’clock of an evening when she looked in to see if he were still awake. The radio was playing softly, although he had fallen asleep. She removed the tiny ear phone, turned the knob off and pulled the covers under his chin. Then she looked in on Henry. He too was sleeping peacefully.

She walked down the stairs to the den, poured herself a large scotch and drank it down before she leaned her head back against the sofa pillow. As she looked up at the ceiling she wondered how she was going to handle the next, and most difficult, chore. For a moment her courage wavered. A letter to Aaron would be the simplest way, but it would also be the most cruel and cowardly. God, this wasn’t going to be easy, but when the hell had anything ever been easy? Now pick up that phone and call.

“Doris, I’ve been going crazy. I know you said you’d call when you could. But for God’s sake, one call last week for three minutes?”

“I know, Aaron, but a lot of…changes have taken place—”

“Changes? Such as?”

Calmly, quietly, she told him all of it. “It seemed the only thing to do, Aaron. Human beings shouldn’t be discarded like old shoes. I couldn’t do that to my father.”

A long, long silence hung between them before he responded. “Well, that’s quite a project you’ve taken on for yourself. Where does that leave us?”

Swallowing hard, trying to delay it, she answered, “I’m not sure…”

“What does that mean?” he said, with more anger in his voice than he intended.

“I guess it means that I just can’t bring myself to abandon Henry…Aaron, please try and understand. Let Henry live out his days decently. As for my father, he’s an old man…I want him to know that at the end he was wanted and loved and—”

“And what about me?”

She could no longer hold back the tears. “Aaron, I love you. But nobody owns themselves…we’re born with obligations. More and more I believe the choices were really made for me a long time ago…Giving you up is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. Don’t you know that?”

Of course he knew, and it was just as difficult for him to give her up. But he also felt she wasn’t thinking realistically. The day would soon come when Henry would no longer be able to even feed the pigeons and her father’s days were numbered. And what would happen to her after that? He had to do some thinking for both of them now. Yes, he had pushed her into a decision, not only because it seemed sensible in terms of her life but because he wanted his happiness too. Now he felt ashamed in the face of her strength and conscience. Still, he wasn’t going to allow her to make this kind of a sacrifice alone…At this moment he saw only one alternative. Compromise. They were both healthy, vital, productive people with years ahead of them. She was more than worth waiting for, and the odds were in his favor…“Forgive you? I love you more, if possible. But, Doris, you
do
have a choice.”

“What, Aaron?”

“Well, it’s less than I would have liked…but as they say, half is better than nothing. Do you think you could be satisfied with a part-time, sort of unofficial husband? I’m going to be in San Francisco at the Fairmont on Thursday.”

Doris could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Finally she answered, “I hadn’t thought in terms of choices…I felt there was only this one road to take—”

“Well, you’re wrong, you know. There
are
alternatives. What do you think?”

“You mean about the sort of unofficial husband? You say you’ll be here Thursday?”

“Yes.”

After a long pause she answered, “We’ll talk about it then…” Dear God, Aaron, how much I love you…

After she hung up she looked across the room to her typewriter sitting on her desk. Rags to riches…And she had the greatest wealth of all. With tears of gratitude, she took out a sheet of paper, put it into the roller and began with the title:

PORTRAITS

CHAPTER ONE
JACOB WAS BORN IN
a village which is no longer on the map. History and war have changed that…

T
HERE ARE NOT ENOUGH
words to express my deepest gratitude and profound thanks to my publisher, Don Fine. No author has been more privileged than I to have worked with an editor such as he. The arduous task of having written
Portraits
could not have been accomplished without the understanding that I received.

Turn the page to read an excerpt from Cynthia Freeman’s
Seasons of the Heart

T
HE DAY BEGAN THE
same as a million others. Nothing in the universal scheme of things was any different, but by the time Ann Coulter watched the sun set low in the Pacific she knew the rest of her life had been unalterably changed. On December 23, 1969, Ann had come face to face with her own mortality.

Sitting in the shadows of early twilight, she was haunted by a hundred fantasies. Her life seemed to be made up of nothing but endings. Birth and death were inevitable, but the choices made along the way were her own. And such hard choices they had been.

What she had done this afternoon had taxed her strength to the breaking point. Placing Phillip in a nursing home was the hardest decision she had ever made. The sad images revolved in her mind until she thought she would go mad. Those long corridors filled with people in wheelchairs, the helpless men and women who had once raced to school, fallen in love, raised children of their own now reduced to total dependency. These were human beings no one seemed to want. Was this how people were expected to end their days? Ann could not come to terms with life’s cruelty. She was not afraid of growing old. It was the indignities of aging she could not bear. And for Phillip to have to suffer so before he was even sixty! She would never forget his bewildered expression when she said goodbye.

Leaving him in the nursing home had been like sending him to oblivion. How could she come to terms with herself, knowing that she alone was responsible?

It was tragic to end a marriage of almost thirty years, even if those years had not all been happy ones. In a way it would have been easier if he had died. Then the decision would have been God’s. She would have been sad, but surely she would have found some peace in the natural process of bereavement. This way there was no peace; instead, she was plagued with guilt. It wasn’t fair that life had placed that burden on her shoulders. Though she had watched Phillip’s decline, she had rejected the idea of sending him away by becoming oblivious to his loss of memory, and by reacting to his vagueness with anger. But what good would it do to think about all that now?

Staring out toward the San Francisco Bay she wondered what had happened to the years. Would she ever erase the sound of his voice asking, “Why are you doing this to me?” He knew that he was being abandoned, and at that terrible moment, she wanted to scream out, “I’m not leaving you here!” But she knew that she couldn’t do that. Dr. Cohn’s words kept her from weakening. “I know how you’re feeling, Ann. Sending someone you love to a nursing home is probably the most painful decision a person can make. But, as you asked me before—no, I don’t think it’s wise to keep him at home any longer. His condition will only deteriorate. No matter when you do this, it isn’t going to be easy.”

Wise Dr. Cohn. She knew he was right. It was no longer safe for Phillip to be home. Yet the rationale offered her no comfort. All she could do was hold him close and whisper, “I love you, Phillip. I’m sorry, darling….”

Suddenly she realized that it was completely dark. Brushing aside her tears, she turned on a lamp and poured herself a brandy. Passing the coffee table, she glanced down and saw a copy of New Horizons. Many of her professional achievements were chronicled in those pages. She laughed bitterly. During the interview, she had tried not to reveal too much of her personal life, especially facts concerning her marriage, but the reporter had kept pressing her for details. How had Phillip dealt with her success? Had he felt threatened by it? What was their relationship like? A marriage of almost thirty years was certainly good for a little space, surely worth mentioning for its longevity alone. Ann fielded most of the questions with vague but cheerful answers. On Phillip’s illness, she remained silent. He was entitled to his dignity.