She could see it in their eyes. She was abandoning them. While her daughter Vivian—stoic, solid, mature Vivian—stood with her body tense and arms crossed, her son Dale’s lip kept quivering, the moisture in his eyes welling like a creek about to overflow its banks. He always was more outwardly emotional, perhaps because of all that he had seen so far in his young life, including the murder of the man she loved.
Damn Albert!
No, she didn’t mean that; Albert had not intended to be killed on their front porch and send her reeling into uncharted life waters, grasping at anything she could for stability—emotional, family, financial—whatever worked in her furtive brain. She had not even had time to grieve properly, so she felt that her life had become one lengthy moan of despair.
She made mistakes. They were big ones, and they brought her little family to an end, especially after Hoose. She would never think of him as other than the man who destroyed her family. But she was the one who took her children into his house, where he welcomed them with open arms, and open pants. Thanks to a bit of fortuitous timing and Vivian’s personal strength, a horrible situation was deflected, but even so, she had to remove her children.
And there she was penniless, jobless and with two mouths to feed in addition to her own.
She had no alternative. They must stay with their father. How she hated making that decision. Children belong with their mother. But more specifically, children belong with a mother who can take care of them, and she knew she couldn’t.
The conversation she had with Ralph only one week earlier was one of the hardest she had ever had in her life. When he filed for custody of their children only a few years earlier, during the happiest time of her life, she had mocked him. He was jealous, she told him. She and Albert were providing a good home for Vivian and Dale, and Ralph knew it. He also knew that they called Albert “Daddy,” that he was more of a father than Ralph could ever be. And she told Ralph that. Even the judge could see that Ralph was in no position to take custody. Further, she knew the children wanted to be with her, their mother. Quietly, unceremoniously, Ralph withdrew his petition, and the children never knew.
Yet now, here they were. Here she was—a divorced woman no longer able to take care of her children. And she was leaving them with their father, a man they barely knew.
She told them it would be temporary. She would soon have them back with her. They must be patient and good for their father, his new wife and their grandmother. At least, she knew their grandmother Ida would see that they were well fed, clean and finished their homework. And she would see them. They would have chores. They would be fine.
While they stood on the porch, Ralph had sensibly left them alone, her children and her. And thankfully, she never saw his new wife. Eunice. Vivian and Dale shared with her that after a quick courtship, Ralph had proposed to the thrice-married widow, and with his own mother grimly accepting, moved her into the home they shared.
“She’s quiet,” Vivian had told her after meeting Eunice for the first time, and over the two years she had known her step-mother, Vivian’s initial observation never changed. Dale, his mother’s devoted son, provided her with many other details. Her former mother-in-law Ida remained in charge domestically—cooking, housework and managing the household. Eunice served somewhat as a hired girl, helping as much as Ida allowed, and mostly, serving as a devoted wife to her husband. Actually, per Dale’s description, she was closer to servile, waiting on him hand and foot when he was home from work. This didn’t surprise Leta. After all, she had never been servile, even though she was a good wife and mother during their marriage.
She remembered his impotent anger when she attended a couple of women’s suffrage marches when Vivian was a baby, and she was carrying Dale. He even tried to prevent her from voting after the Constitutional Amendment was passed.
“A woman has no business voting,” Ralph declared while he and Leta were eating supper with his parents. “It distracts from her housework.” While his parents agreed, Leta liked to think that her mother-in-law who ruled her roost with an iron hand was more sympathetic. Ida may not have voted, but her husband Lewis knew her opinions on any number of politically related subjects.
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