All Good Women (8 page)

Now Ann shook her head and picked up another piece of the Parmesan Teddy had brought home from Bertolis'.

Teddy, faithful Teddy, encouraged her about college. Teddy would make the perfect mother — do what you want dear, whatever makes you happy. Yet there was something about her that made Ann feel Teddy would never have kids. Funny, the friends one chooses. Teddy was so different from anyone she or Carol ever talked to in high school. So slow and easy. They probably wouldn't have even noticed her. It still hurt to think about Carol, and Ann watched her mind return to a safer topic. This house would be a good place for studying Greek and Latin. After all, they helped each other survive Tracey Business School here. And she was close enough to Filbert Street to run home in an emergency, which, God knew, was likely.

Yes, she was getting a better perspective, like a paleontologist predicting shifts in the surface of rock over time — the various layers of movement and possibility and resistance. She could not detach herself from her parents or their parents. They were all part of the same mountain.

Mountain was what this Parmesan was becoming. Well, fine, the extra cheese would keep in the icebox until next week for the real occasion. Meanwhile, the dry run was smelling more and more like lasagne.

Clip. Chomp. Clip.
Moira manoeuvred
the pruners gingerly, intent on avoiding her fingers as Teddy had warned. How did Teddy know just the right angle and pace? She was so like a man in her useful ways: fixing the sink, lighting the pilot of their water heater. It was nothing, Teddy insisted, she had learned on the trip West, helping Pop fix the truck that was always breaking down. Nothing, sniffed Moira, like typing was nothing. ‘Now is the time …' It gave her a neckache just remembering.

Actually, this looked halfway decent. She stood back, appreciating her handiwork. A little uneven by the porch there, but she could hide that with the potted geraniums. Mother would be so pleased to see them thriving since she had sent the seeds last winter. Moira was bloody amazed, never having potted anything besides herself before. So like Mother to send seeds rather than flowers. Seeds would renew the investment. Mother just assumed Moira could plant seeds and make them grow. She assumed Moira could do anything she put her head to. But since Moira had abandoned Los Angeles for San Francisco, nothing had gone according to plan except the geraniums. And they were flourishing only in comparison to the ivy.

Clip. Chomp. Clip. Funny how this part of the street was treeless. The Italian neighbors didn't want anything between them and the sun. Practical, thought Moira, none of those damn leaves to rake in the fall. Her parents would be startled. To them, America meant luscious trees and finely groomed lawns like the one they reverently tended in Los Angeles.

Of course she had been right about coming to San Francisco. If she had stayed in Los Angeles, she would have been required to parade daily along the intricately trimmed path through the Finlaysons' ideal lawn. She would never escape until she had won a husband and a contract. And living at home would make her fit for only one role — mad Lady MacBeth. Besides, J.D. had promised her an interview with Randolph next month.

What a funny conversation she had had with Wanda last night, Wanda asking why she wanted to be an actress. No one had questioned her motivations before. Because everyone wanted to be in the movies or because they dismissed her as a piece of fluff? But Wanda knew exactly why she was going to be a journalist. She would expose injustice and help people communicate. All Moira could say was that she liked being creative. ‘But,' Wanda persisted, ‘what do you want to
do
with acting?' Moira tried to shrug it off. However, when she went to bed last night, she reflected that her interest in acting came from the secrets.

Home had been padded with secrets. The more Mother protected her from the secrets, the more scared Moira felt. Now she wanted to tell the secrets, to have feelings and to shout them on a stage before thousands, millions of people. Moira didn't know when she first became aware of the secrets, probably when she began to compare her family with the families of her school friends. They all had brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles. Moira had distant relations spread throughout the Commonwealth whom Mother never mentioned unless Aunt Evie was in town. Moira still wondered if she would have learned about Daddy without Aunt Evie, who was as gregarious and irascible as Mother was reserved.

Although she was just seven at the time, Moira remembered almost every detail about that morning. Mother and Aunt Evie were sitting on the sofa. They must have been talking about Glasgow because their accents were noticeably thick. Moira liked it when Aunt Evie visited because she heard the music in Mother's voice that usually was so carefully subdued. Mother even tried to get Daddy to stop using ‘Och now', and ‘Aye'. Moira wasn't listening to the content of what they said so much as to their brogues; suddenly the room grew still.

‘You've told her about Keith, of course.'

‘No.' Mother lowered her voice. ‘Not yet.'

‘Well, when? The child is almost eight.'

‘When she's ready.' Mother looked over at Moira with such a scowl that Moira threw a ball of yarn to their cat, awakening the animal on the other side of the room.

‘She'll find out somehow. Surely Tim will want her to know.'

‘Shhh, Evie, don't poke where you're not invited.' Mother stood and walked toward the kitchen. ‘More tea?' Her voice was strained.

‘No! You're bloody impossible. I'm going for a walk. That is if I can stand outside in this desert for more than five minutes without melting.'

Moira sat frozen. Even the cat seemed wary. Finally she found a voice. ‘Shall I be your scout, Aunt Evie, like yesterday? I could show you the department stores.'

‘You'll stay here, young lady. We have some talking to do.'

‘Yes, Mother.' Moira curled up next to the bookcase to make herself smaller. She tried to understand what she had done. Eavesdropping was a sin, she knew that from Sister Robert. She hadn't done it intentionally and she had tried to close her ears when it sounded as if they were discussing important matters or at least when Mother had grown tense.

The front door slammed. It seemed like hours before Mother returned with a fresh cup of tea. ‘Come here, Moira, come sit by me.'

Moira walked to the couch slowly, as if her pockets were weighted with 100 pounds of stolen chocolate. Mother had tears in her eyes. Since she had never seen her cry, Moira felt more guilty. What had she done to this poor woman who tried so hard? Suddenly Moira hated Aunt Evie's loud, brash ways.

‘Not your fault,' Mother sobbed. ‘Now come on, child, I have something important to tell you. There was another Daddy before Daddy. We came to America from Scotland together, but he died …'

Although it had been a painful conversation, they seemed closer for the next week than they had in years. Aunt Evie left a day early. Moira didn't think much about her father — or fathers — at first because she felt so close to Mother. She understood now that it had been she and Mother alone, at first, against the world. As the weeks passed, she began to stare at Daddy in different ways, to observe how she resembled only her mother. She wondered what this other daddy, Keith, looked like. Would Mother have any pictures? Could she ask to see them? No, she would wait a while. Meanwhile, she savored being the girl with the biggest secret in the second grade.

But the intimacy didn't last. Mother always seemed nervous about something. Daddy — she tried calling him ‘Daddy Tim' to herself, but it was too complicated — tried to cheer up Mother. He was always ready with a joke or a game. The more he laughed, the sterner Mother got. It was hard for the three of them to be together. Moira had great times with Daddy on her own, fishing and hiking. And she had some good days with Mother, mostly shopping. But with the three of them together, it always seemed awkward. Moira thought this was her fault. Without her, they would get along. She even worried that Daddy Keith had left because of her, but this was too crazy to talk about, so she didn't tell anyone about the worry. She just waited for the bad feelings to disappear, which they sometimes did. But other days she was depressed and listless. She would sit on the back step and brood until Mother caught her. ‘Of course you have plenty to do. You have friends. You could help me inside the house.'

Turning to the ivy on the edge of the steps, Moira shook herself back to Sunday afternoon.

She spotted Angela Bertoli waddling down the street. No, that wasn't fair, she was a big woman, not obese, and Moira admired her solidity.

‘Hiya?' called Angela.

‘Fine,' said Moira, caught by the coolness in her own voice. ‘Nice day.' But even this sounded more like, ‘Leave me alone.'

‘Yes,' said Angela, with her usual private smile.

Moira had a peculiar flash
from the previous week — of Teddy and Angela walking off to see
Suez
together — two blocks ahead of herself and Randy who were going to another movie. She felt something like jealousy, which was ludicrous because she had her date with Randy. When they were a block behind the two women, Moira asked Randy once again if he had a friend for Teddy.

‘I've tried, haven't I? With Jimmy last year, and Stan. She's not interested, I tell you,' he said nervously.

‘Nonsense, she's only shy,' snapped Moira.

‘Well, just see how shy she is with Angela Bertoli.'

‘What do you mean?' Moira spoke more slowly. ‘Never mind. One more crack like that and we're through.'

‘Listen, it's OK with me.' He tried to keep his voice light. ‘So she doesn't like men. That's her choice. It's a free country.'

‘You don't know what you're talking about.' She clasped her shaking hands over the strap of her black patent pocketbook.

‘Like I said, it's fine as long as it's not contagious. You and me, we have a good time together, don't we?' He winked.

Thoroughly flustered now, by his remarks about Teddy and by his fingers creeping around her back to the edge of her breast, she was relieved to see the theatre marquee. By this time Teddy and Angela had turned the corner, Moira and Randy joined the long queue for
Drums
.

‘Hey, this is packed for a re-run from '38.' Randy was just as anxious as Moira to switch to a friendly topic. ‘Why the gigantic line?'

Moira pointed to a romantic poster of Raymond Massey, Valerie Hobson and Sabu. ‘“Brave men”,' she read aloud, ‘“and the bravest women who follow”.'

Angela was completely out of
sight
now and Moira returned to the ivy. Would her parents like Randy? Daddy would enjoy his spunk. Mother might find him charming. Really, he had a lot of good points — loyalty, intelligence, a hardworking nature. She just wished Teddy and Ann liked him more. Maybe they were jealous, no, not in the way Randy was insinuating, but because they didn't have boyfriends. She and Wanda had great laughs about Roy and Randy so maybe the others felt left out. Whatever her parents thought about Randy, they were bound to like this house. Unlike the other parents, who lived in San Francisco, the Finlaysons were reassured that their daughter was living safely with a group of friends in this strange city. Moira once heard Mother describe the house to Aunt Evie as ‘a women's hotel, like the Barbizon'. Aunt Evie, who had learned some diplomacy, had kept her peace. The visit might prove a little problematic when they discovered Wanda really was Oriental and Ann was Jewish, because, after twenty-five years in the United States, the Finlaysons were surprised to meet anyone except the Daughters and Sons of the Revolution and, perhaps, a few Indians.

‘Soup's on.' Ann opened the
window wider and shouted. Garlic and tomato suffused the hot evening air. Moira would have to warn Ann to go slow on the garlic at the big dinner.

‘Come on, Moi.' Teddy opened the front door. ‘Supper's ready.'

‘In a sec.' She waved the pruners. When Teddy closed the door, Moira stepped back. ‘Well, yes, OK,' she spoke to herself. She moved the geraniums 4 inches to the left.

Chapter Seven

Fall 1941, San Francisco

AMERICANS SUSPEND OIL EXPORTS TO JAPAN

PANAMANIAN GOVERNMENT OVERTHROWN

US SUPREME COURT RULES CALIFORNIA'S
‘ANTI-OKIE' LAWS UNCONSTITUTIONAL

THE BUS IDLED
on
a quiet
street corner. ‘Hold it please.' Teddy swooped up her belongings and shouted. ‘This is my stop.'

‘Lady, I ain't got all day.'

‘Sorry.' She smiled, alighting from the bus with newfound grace. The lady secretary walked briskly past a yard of tentative fall flowers. Funny how you get used to mild weather. In Oklahoma the climate was harsh and hard. Here in California a day could turn to gold in January.

The Fieldings' house looked cramped and drab this afternoon. It was much smaller than the family place back home, but it was the tiny yard Teddy noticed most. Her eye caught the drainpipe hanging from the roof. Pop had promised to fix that two weeks ago. Not a good sign that he hadn't got around to it. Teddy held her arms across her chest, hoping that he wasn't drinking again. She could hear Patsy's music blaring from the radio, ‘When You Wish Upon A Star'.

‘Hi, Teddy.' Virgil looked up from his marble game with Jack.

‘Hi there yourself.' She nodded fondly. ‘Say, what are you two doing in here? Isn't this time for your chores in the yard?'

‘No.' Virgil regarded her seriously. ‘Mom told us to take the day off. Pop's out in the garden. You know he's …' Virgil tipped an imaginary bottle.

‘I see.' Teddy swallowed hard. ‘Where's Jolene?'

‘Sick in bed,' Jack answered. ‘Bad cold.'

Teddy inhaled sharply. She smelled spaghetti from the kitchen. Nice that Mom was varying the menu a bit. She got tired of Pop's favourite Lima beans with hamhock and Jolene's white beans with ketchup. ‘I think I'll see Mom. Let me know who wins at marbles and I'll take him on later.'

Patsy was doing her homework in the dining room, listening now to another song from last year, ‘Oh, Johnny'. Teddy patted her sister's shoulder and thought how she used to read at this old oak table with its uneven legs. She was quite partial to the faded paisley rug. What would Wanda and the other girls think of this house? Would they be bothered by the noise and the clutter? Until Pop sobered up, she'd never be able to bring them home.

Mom was standing at the stove, staring out the window to the back yard. Teddy tried to guess her expression. Exasperation? Prayer? Teddy loved her mother's jet black hair and the high cheekbones and the dark skin that didn't seem to wrinkle. Sometimes the Cherokee was more visible, and she did look more than one-eighth Indian today. Mom turned and smiled, unflustered. Had she known her daughter was there all along? Mom had a shaman in her, which saw out the side of her head and understood things before they were said.

‘Hello, dear.' Mom held out her arms. ‘So how was work today?'

‘Oh, fine, exciting, I mean.' Teddy wanted her mother to know how much she loved the Emporium. ‘I've got a new boss, Mr Whitney. He's organized and calm and he …' The exhilaration drained as she looked over her mother's shoulders to her father sitting in the garden squinting at the bright blue sky.

‘But Mom, I could be contributing more.'

‘Teresa Fielding, we've been around and around on this.' She wiped a dark hair off her face, back into the knot at her neck.

Teddy thought of Miss Fargo's bun and how different the two women were although they were about the same age. Mom's hair fell loosely at the back of her ears, with long strands wisping down to her shoulders. Her weight settled easily around the breasts and hips. Inadvertently she looked out to her husband.

Teddy knew Mom wouldn't complain. But she saw the anxiety in those competent hands, in the scratching of her middle nail on her thumb. Teddy watched her suck in her bottom lip. She held her back so tight she thought it might vibrate.

‘So he's been at it since morning?' Teddy asked.

‘Yes, you know he was planning some repairs today. He went down to the hardware store and they turned him down for credit.'

Teddy shook her head. ‘I thought he wasn't going to buy any more till he had money.'

She turned back towards her husband. ‘It's hard for him to sit still.'

Teddy shoved the bag of sugar and flour to the back of the counter, hoping Mom wouldn't notice it until she left tonight. ‘Why couldn't he have fixed the drain pipe? That wouldn't have cost a nickel. Why couldn't he have used his head?'

‘Teddy, what's got into you, judging your father?' Mom started cleaning the kitchen sink.

‘Sorry, Mom, but it's so hard on you, all his drinking.'

‘It's not like he can't stop when he wants to.' She scrubbed the white caulking between the blue tiles. ‘Your father stays dry for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Lots of men drink themselves to death. Look at your Uncle Leo.'

Teddy wanted to say, ‘and he's just going to drink you to death.' Instead, she considered her mother's tired eyes. Mom wouldn't cry. When she felt helpless, she simply grew quieter. ‘How're you doing?'

‘A little weary, I guess. Amanda and Patsy have been helping out. But Jolene's sick.'

‘So I heard.' Teddy nodded. She walked to the breadbox and cut a slice for herself.

‘There's lard.'

‘No thanks.' Teddy knew they had been running low on lard and with Pop off work they wouldn't be buying more for a while.

‘Well, tell me about the store, the house, the other girls.' Mom leaned against the sink.

‘Not much to tell.' Teddy sighed, unsatisfied with the bread, but unable to cut herself another slice. She looked out the window and, seeing Pop on the log, she looked back at the spotless sink. ‘Mr Whitney praised my work twice this week.'

‘You're not exactly bursting with joy.' Mom shook her head and held out her hand.

Teddy squeezed the hand and laughed. ‘No, not yet, I guess I'm kind of nervous about having another boss.' How could she explain the new, unfounded fears to her mother who had always wanted to go to business college, who was contending with a drunken husband, an empty purse, ten children and a run on lard. ‘Say, you need any help with supper?'

‘No.' Her mother frowned at Teddy's abruptness.

‘Then I may just say hi to Jolene.'

‘That makes sense, hon.'

Sense, thought Teddy, how many times a day did her mother resort to the one unshakeable standard: common sense? It was sensible for Teddy to go to Tracey for it would pay off later. It wasn't sensible to worry about Pop, because what could you do?

Jolene was propped against two pillows reading
True Confessions
.
She waved to Teddy.

‘Hear you've been featherbedding.' Teddy grinned at her younger sister. How like Mom she was with her dark features.” And like Pop in her flashing temper and quick wit. Teddy, in contrast, had inherited Pop's pale English blondness and Mom's even, laconic personality. Jolene was her favorite sister, although she was jealous of her inheritance.

‘Not likely around here. Trying to nap in this house is like trying to sleep in the middle of Powell Street. Listen, if I was really featherbedding, I'd go to a park. Cheers.' She lifted a glass of water. ‘What's the big news in the world of fashion?'

‘You know, I haven't looked at the clothes for weeks. I just go straight on to the office.'

‘And I was counting on you for the fall season.'

Teddy grinned and shrugged. ‘Say, where's my sister-in-law?'

‘Took the baby to visit her mother tonight. Knows when to duck outta this house.'

‘Soup's on,' Mom's voice.

‘Want me to bring you something?'

‘No thanks.' Jolene pulled herself up. ‘Been lying down all day. Think I'll just sit quietly at the table.'

‘Everyone's bound to be quiet tonight,' Teddy sighed.

During grace, Pop sat silently, both hands on the edge of the table. The back door slammed; Hank stuck his head in the room.

‘Sorry we're late, Mom. Arthur and I'll be right in, soon's we wash our hands.'

Teddy watched her mother's shoulders loosen.

Mom stood. ‘I'll get their suppers from the oven.'

Pop was shaking his head. ‘Can't they respect the family meal hour?'

‘Probably got held up on the bus,' Teddy tried.

‘Don't they know how long your mother worked on this supper …'

Jolene interrupted, ‘Yeah, she went out and shot every last piece of spaghetti. Slippery critters.'

Teddy cracked her knuckles.

‘Don't sass your father, Miss,' Mom called from the kitchen.

‘Hi there.' Hank sat with a thud. ‘So how's everyone?' Avoiding his father's glance, he addressed Virgil. ‘You get around to sweeping out the garage?'

Virgil nodded proudly.

Teddy wondered at the kindness in Hank's ways. He really was the perfect older brother, at least he had been since he decided to stay off the streets. She missed the old times with Hank and Arthur, the three of them. She had felt like one of the boys: the long, tall Fieldings going out bowling or for a beer.

‘And Jolene,' Hank continued, ‘you on your last legs or what?'

‘Don't count your luck.' She grinned. ‘I'll be up and around tomorrow.'

Mom brought in two plates of baked spaghetti for her eldest sons.

Teddy noticed her father scrutinizing the size of their helpings.

She was sure Mom had given Pop as much, but lately he had been extra touchy about such things. As desperately as they needed the pay checks, the boys' income was a delicate affair.

‘Teddy,' Arthur asked, ‘how's the big downtown world?'

Teddy blushed. ‘Fine, I've taken to strolling Market Street and that's fun.'

‘Fun!' exploded her father.

‘Oh, leave her alone, Pop,' said Jolene.

Teddy noticed Jolene was wearing her ‘calm down' expression rather than her ‘you jerk' expression and her father surveyed the table for something else to criticize.

‘Helen,' he said, ‘you're eating like a bird!'

‘Now leave me, Dick. I've been nibbling as I cooked.'

‘So what'd you do today?' Virgil asked Hank and Arthur.

Arthur chewed thoughtfully. ‘We almost got our heads knocked off tearing down a building. Crane swiped by Hank, inch away.'

‘But Arthur saved my life.' Hank spoke through a mouthful of spaghetti. ‘I ducked and, well, here we are, all together again.'

Mom shook her head. ‘That work's so dangerous.'

‘Don't worry.' Arthur pushed forward his empty plate. ‘Looks like we won't be there much longer.'

‘What do you mean?' Pop demanded.

‘They're laying people off at the end of the week.'

‘Christ!' Pop threw his napkin on the floor and stood up. ‘Whole country has gone to hell.'

‘Dick,' Mom coaxed. ‘Sit down and finish your supper. Remember what the doctor said about your health.'

‘Health! None of us will have any health left if they keep draining blood from this family. Shoulda stayed in Oklahoma.'

‘No, Pop, it's worse back there,' Teddy said. ‘The depression's hard on everybody.'

‘Everybody, don't tell me that.' His face reddened as he sat down. ‘What this country needs is a good war and that's likely soon enough. That'll get us moving again.'

‘Pop!' Jolene shouted and then lowered her voice. ‘Don't even think like that. People get shot, people die in wars.'

‘People die of starvation, too, missy. Don't speak where you don't know. War gets a nation moving, manufacturing, organizing. Happening already. It's either war or you all will have to learn is German.' He sat back with his arms across his chest.

Teddy considered the cold spaghetti on her plate. She could no more eat it than eat the table. She hated Pop when he was like this. Hated him drawing them into fights. Over the years she had tried so many solutions — talking to Pop about the drinking, asking the doctor, praying, trying to ignore it. Nothing worked.

‘So are we still going to Playland for Virgil's birthday?' Mom's voice was so light you could almost see through it, thought Teddy.

Virgil grinned. ‘Yes, when are we going?'

‘You think we have enough money for that kind of falderal when we're all being laid off? Sometimes you don't think, Helen.'

Jolene struck her fist on the table. ‘Sometimes she's the only one who does think around here.' She stalked back to the bedroom.

Pop looked at his plate and flushed. ‘I don't have to take this,' he shouted. ‘Not from my own children.' He stomped into the kitchen and then outside, slamming the back door.

‘One of those days?' Hank turned to his mother.

She nodded. ‘But he's really a good father. He's just had a hard time.'

Hank and Arthur exchanged a skeptical glance. Teddy reached over for her mother's shoulder. ‘You've had a hard time yourself.'

‘Yes.' Mom pursed her lips. ‘Now dessert. Can you dish up, Amanda? I'll just take a quiet cup of coffee in the kitchen.'

Amanda nodded. ‘Yeah Mom, you have a nice rest.'

Teddy stared at her spaghetti and imagined an intestinal haemorrhage. She decided to wait ten minutes and then go into the kitchen. This would be the only time they'd have alone tonight, while the kids were doing their homework and Arthur and Hank were bathing.

As Teddy carried her coffee
into the dark kitchen, her mother turned, catching the dining room light on her face. No sign of tears, no, Mom never cried, just grew more still. ‘How're you doing?' Teddy tried.

‘Fine,' Mom allowed. ‘Come.' She patted the chair. ‘Tell me more about your day.'

Teddy described her new typewriter and watched her mother's face soften.