Hello, Little Bastard

THE FRONT ROOM was now off limits at night. Nancy and Margaret would be sitting ducks silhouetted against that big picture window, said Titus. A one-eyed drunk could pick them right off. His old grandmother could.

“And I suppose you think you’re helping,” Nancy had said. “Scaring us half to death.”

He’d gone away in a wounded huff. “Just doing as I’m told, missus.”

Titus had taken Henry’s request to keep a close watch much too seriously, bunking in the buggy shed for the last week, right beneath Margaret’s window. He snored like a bear, Margaret said. During the day he lurked about, trying the locks, peeping in the front windows. Nancy could not so much as adjust a stocking in peace. The other day he caught her dipping into Henry’s brandy. She’d jumped seeing him, spilling what little she’d poured. He was worse than the bogeymen he’d been assigned to guard against.

NANCY OR MARGARET made soup twice weekly, enough to last Henry and his widower cellmate three days. Tonight’s first batch came to a boil while Nancy wasn’t looking and the eggs had curdled. She’d had to throw it out and start over. “If I ruin this pot,” she said to Margaret, “he’s going to have to settle for biscuits and jam.”

Margaret said nothing, her thoughts obviously elsewhere. She sat at the table darning Henry’s socks, a woolen pile growing at her elbow.

It was late, past nine. When they spoke, it was softly, out of consideration for John, whose door was closed. He’d been avoiding the family lately, coming in at odd hours, making cold plates for himself. At least Margaret had stopped demeaning herself by begging him to sit down with them, but her hurt still showed, and John seemed not to notice. Boys were like that. Girls at least possessed a guilt bone. A girl might cause a mother heartache, but she typically had the good grace to feel and express shame. Nancy almost wished she was having a second one.

Margaret put down the darning mushroom. “That’s enough for one night.”

A sound came from John’s room, a yawn or a moan. Margaret’s face clouded. She stared at his door as if expecting him to come out. “You look done in, Nancy,” she said. “Go on up. I’ll mind the soup.”

Nancy sighed, rubbing her belly. She missed Henry so, especially at night. The bed was enormous without him in it. “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight, Margaret? It’s not fair that I hog a bed when you’re tripled up.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” said Margaret. “We’re perfectly cozy.”

“Are you sure?” said Nancy. “It’s such a nice big bed, bigger than yours.”

“The girls and I are fine, Nancy. Go on now, have your rest. I’ll see to the lamps.”

“All right then,” said Nancy, disappointed. “I guess I’ll turn in.” Her back ached from standing at the stove too long. She felt older than Abraham’s Sarah with this baby. “Don’t forget that Mr. Grimes is coming in the morning.”

Halfway up the back stairs Nancy heard the scrape of a chair, and Margaret’s whisper. “John? Son? Are you awake, love?” Nancy lingered for a moment. If John replied, she didn’t hear it.

THE TRIAL was to begin in nine days, Mr. Grimes unnecessarily reminded them. He arrived on time, getting rid of Margaret immediately, saying it was imperative to the case that he speak with Nancy alone. Margaret went away scowling. Nancy sat Mr. Grimes in the front room, and took a chair across from him. “How is my husband? Did he request anything special?”

Mr. Grimes reached behind a breast pocket and passed a single folded sheet. Nancy unfolded the note, glancing first at the closing, warm tears rising.

I love you now & always, darling wife.

Mr. Grimes shifted in Henry’s chair. “I’ve been working day and night on your behalf. Yours and Mr. Oades.”

Nancy nodded. “We’re grateful, of course, sir.”

“Been down to Los Angeles, up to Sacramento. I consulted with two judges, knew them in school, brilliant men. Probably the best legal minds in the state.”

Nancy slipped Henry’s note inside her pocket and gave Mr. Grimes her full attention. He looked tired for so early in the day.

“Here it is in a nutshell,” he said. “We can have the first marriage annulled, the stipulation being that the action must be brought about by one of the parties of the second marriage.”

“Yourself or Mr. Oades,” he said, when Nancy didn’t respond.

“I understood that much,” she said. “But I always thought an annulment meant that a married couple had never…” Nancy looked down, blushing. “…had remained chaste.”

“An annulment can be obtained for various reasons, Mrs. Oades.”

“Then why are you just now thinking of it?” said Nancy. “You might have saved our family endless grief.”

“It’s tricky,” he said. “Unfortunately, the children of the first marriage lose legitimacy.”

The anger brought her to her feet. “How dare you raise my hopes this way. How dare you come into our home and make such an indecent proposal! Just wait until my husband hears about it.”

“I’ve approached him already,” he said, wearily.

“And?”

“Mr. Oades says as long as the law allows him two wives his conscience is clear.”

“As is my conscience, sir,” said Nancy. “As is Margaret Oades’s conscience.”

“That is all well and fine, madam. I was attempting to spare Mr. Oades the indignity of another trial. It promises to be more unpleasant than the last. And that’s putting it mildly. He could go to prison for a very long time.”

“You mustn’t let that happen,” said Nancy.

“I’ll try my very best not to,” he said. “As for the children of the first marriage, I don’t see how they are any less stigmatized by the present situation.”

Nancy remained standing, her blood churning. “And whose fault is that, may I ask?”

He shrugged, shaking his head.

“I asked you a question, sir. Who would you say is to blame for our predicament? The Queen of England? The Maori Indians?” Nancy could not contain the shrill fury. “Ourselves? Is that what you think? Should we have barred the door? Should we have sent Mrs. Oades and her children, my husband’s children, away? They didn’t have a red cent to their name, you know. How were they supposed to survive? What would you have done in my decent husband’s shoes? I ask you, sir. I demand to know just what you—” A shadow slid by her peripheral vision. Titus at the window. She screeched, “Shoo!” flying at the window, flapping her arms. “Shoo, you! Get back to work, you lazy succotash!”

Titus went running, taking the porch steps in a single bound.

“Our hand,” Nancy said, embarrassed by her outburst. “He’s been a problem lately.”

Mr. Grimes calmly went on, as if he came across shrieking crazies on a regular basis. “To answer your question, I’d have the first marriage annulled, were I in Mr. Oades’s unfortunate shoes.”

“You’d brand your own legitimate children illegitimate, would you?” Nancy put her fists to her hips and bent, speaking to an imaginary child. “Hello, little bastard. You say you’d like to make a good marriage? You’re seeking employment at a reputable firm? I’m so sorry, dearest. It’s simply out of the question. You might as well run along now.”

The lawyer stood, hat in hand.

Nancy was breathing hard. “May I ask how many children you have, Mr. Grimes?”

“I’ve not been thus far blessed,” he said.

“I thought as much, sir. No decent parent would ask another to permanently scar their children.” The trembling sense of victory lasted less than a second. He settled the coldest look upon her and started for the door.

He would quit now, thanks to her mouthy ingratitude. Henry would have no advocate, and it would be her fault entirely. “Please, Mr. Grimes.” He turned. “May I offer you something before you go? Forgive me. My manners are atrocious. We have coffee, wonderful Arabian coffee from the Emporium in San Francisco. How does that strike you?”

“I don’t have the time,” he said. “If you’d like to scribble a quick note to your husband, I’ll deliver it this afternoon.”

Nancy went to the desk, taking out the good stationery and dipping the pen. She wrote hurriedly, having nothing to say to Henry just then, wanting only to please Mr. Grimes.

    We are all fine. I will send John with soup and socks today. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

Yrs truly, Nancy O.

    She blotted and folded the note, handing it to him. “Please don’t hold my ravings against my husband.”

“The law impels me, madam. Not hysteria.”

“It’s just that I’m afraid for Mr. Oades,” she said. “My nerves, you know. It’s hard to think straight these days for the worry. I say things I don’t mean.”

He touched her arm, his stony expression softening. “I understand.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Grimes.”

“I must ask you to reconsider annulment,” he said.

“I couldn’t put Mrs. Oades through it,” she said. “Surely you see how it is. Her children are her world. They’ve all suffered so much already.”

He shook his head. “The trial could go on a week, maybe longer,” he said. “Be prepared.”

“It’s not a hardship,” she said, escorting him into the hallway, opening the front door to a moist gray chill. “John Oades will drive me in.”

He frowned. “I must advise you to stay away, Mrs. Oades.”

“Why?”

“Rightly or wrongly, people have their minds made up,” he said. “It’s in Mr. Oades’s best interest that you not attend. I’m afraid I must insist.” He started down the walkway, turning at the gate and giving a prim bow. Nancy waved, fresh fear for Henry welling.

Josephine came around the side of the house, dogs in tow. She was speaking, practicing one of her dramatic scenes. Margaret often asked her to recite, but Josephine seemed to prefer an animal audience. Nancy nodded a greeting. Josephine did the same and turned, going back where she’d come from, the dogs following.

Inside, Margaret emerged from the shadows. She’d been standing in the dining room the entire time. “I heard every word,” she said. “Thank you, Nancy.”

Nancy sank to Henry’s still warm chair, picturing him wasting away in prison, dying there years from now. The baby moved, putting pressure on low organs. If she’d calculated correctly, he’d come in three months, in June. “What are we going to do, Margaret? What in God’s name are we going to do?”