Private Life (45 page)

went back into the house, first into the kitchen, and then upstairs. But she could hear

much of what they said, because it was a warm day and the windows were open. She

heard Len say, "If I had known this, if I had had any idea that such a thing was possible, I

would never have devoted my life and my reputation to ..." So, she thought, that was how

it was going to go. No defense of Andrew by Len, either. She closed the window, and

stayed in her room for about an hour. When she came downstairs, Andrew was sitting

quietly in a chair, looking out the window, but as soon as he saw her, he said, "I think,

my dear, that I will go out for a walk. It is a beautiful day."

She could not resist. She said, "Andrew, just one question."

"What would that be, my dear?" Of course, he thought she was going to ask the

plagiarism question, but she had answered that herself. The question she asked was "How

has Len supported himself here for all of these years?"

His shoulders began to shrug, but she held up her hand. She said, "Did you pay

for the publication of that book?"

"Well, I did. Yes."

"Does he know that?"

"Possibly the publisher let that slip at some point."

"Does anyone else know that?"

He didn't answer, and perhaps he didn't know.

After a moment, he said, "He was a stranger. Coming here was his idea."

"But it turned out that he couldn't find a publisher, and so ..."

"We put years of work into his book."

She heaved a sigh, that was all. It was not in her to say, "Serves you right," or

even to reflect more soberly that Andrew had reaped what he had sown, or received a just

and fitting punishment. All she could do was wonder what there was in him that had to

persist. And what came first, the persistence or the orphaned ideas? Astronomers all over

the world, she gathered, had moved on, and been thrilled to do so. But this was what

marriage was, wasn't it? A wife could know that her husband was thoroughly wrong, but

the last thing on earth she could do was say so. Andrew got up and went out. About two

weeks later, after sorting papers furiously, he did the only thing he knew how to do,

which was start writing another book. When he showed her the first pages, when she saw

the first mention of the Aether, she said, "You had better learn to type." She was firm.

She thought that would slow him down, but he bought a more modern typewriter, and she

could hear him every day, behind the door of his spacious study, tap-tap-tap.

1933

1937

IT WAS TRUE, as Margaret remembered Lavinia saying, "Habit proves stronger

than passion." What really happened, she came to believe, was that those nights when she

lay awake wondering what it would be like to move back to Missouri (and would she live

with Beatrice, whose letters were litanies of complaint or suffering, depending upon

Margaret's mood, or Elizabeth, who had become so thoroughly reticent that Margaret had

no idea at all of her true state of mind?) were remembered but no longer felt. Those

mornings when she arose trembling with dread at the idea of hearing his first "my dear"

came to be lived through--what seemed a horror was endured and then buried in the

routine of daily activities. Andrew seemed to have learned a lesson, finally, and become

merely himself--no larger than life-size. She took some deep breaths, planted a rose

garden, did most of what was asked of her. Philosophy intruded--she looked around and

compared her condition with the general run of things and was grateful for continuing

good health. Most important, she became adept at the neutral smile, the moment of

patient silence, the arrangements of the day and the night that kept order around the house

(no stacks of papers in the front hall or the kitchen, the dining room neat). She

remembered Lavinia saying that a wife only has to do what she's told for the first year,

and wondered why she had forgotten that piece of wisdom. All of these efforts were

small, and yet a balance was maintained--past episodes of imbalance became not present,

and that was enough. It was akin to giving up a corset, perhaps, or buying a larger girdle,

or forgetting notions of sin and retribution. Andrew, as far as she could tell, had learned

the lesson of mortality, too--he was seventy-one now, and he knew he had missed many

enjoyments over the years. Mostly, she had learned from watching Mrs. Tillotson that

certain dramatic steps required an imperviousness of character that she did not possess;

she came to be relieved that she hadn't taken them. She let it go at that. He had not

committed adultery, or a felony, or abandonment. It was simple in its way.

One day, Margaret came home from a morning visit to Mrs. Wareham to find

newspapers laid out on the dining-room table--the
Examiner
and the
Chronicle
, the

Vallejo paper, and the
Sacramento Bee
. Andrew was proceeding around the table,

reading every word about an unfortunate incident outside of Nanking. The incident

looked quite straightforward to Margaret--the Japanese army had taken Nanking, which

Chiang Kai-shek then had to abandon. In the course of this, Japanese planes sank an

American boat because the pilots didn't see American flags. Though lots of men were

wounded, only three were killed, and most of the sailors were rescued by nearby British

boats. Roosevelt complained, and some admiral apologized. By the next day, the

Japanese had offered to pay for the sinking of the boat, and the Foreign Minister himself

apologized.

Andrew decided to go over to the island (he hadn't been there in months) and hear

what they were saying in the Officers' Club and anywhere else he could manage to

eavesdrop or to get someone into conversation. He was alight with investigative purpose.

Margaret was glad to get him out of the house. At the end of a week, he even put in a call

to Pete. Andrew wasn't the only person interested, of course--the ladies at the knitting

group had talked about it for an hour. When he hung up, she reported what they had all

agreed upon: "But, Andrew, when most governments make a mistake like that, they cover

it up for weeks, and then go for more weeks insisting that there was provocation, and then

wait to be sued for years after that. I think this incident speaks well of the Japanese."

"Perhaps it does. But it's a mystery. The sailors on the boat said that the flags

were completely visible."

"And, anyway, it seems outside of your usual area."

"It is an interesting event, in and of itself." He paused. "And I have been feeling

of late that I've let the world get away from me. What did I come across the other day?

Oh yes, my bird list, from so long ago. Remember how we walked about the island and

looked at gulls and hawks? I realized that I haven't always been a dull boy."

She thought, What harm can come from his getting out of the house and diverting

himself with this? She said, "It's worth looking into, then."

She said reassuring things like this all the time now, while she was going about

her own business, passing in and out of the rooms he was in on her way to shop or weed

or visit someone or go knitting or work with the aid society she collected for. Though her

happiness had taken a while to set in, she traced it directly to this house Andrew had

purchased. It was pleasant to wake up in, convenient to all of Vallejo, and quite suitable

for hosting her share of knitting circles and get-togethers. After a few days, she quietly

put the newspapers away, and in fact forgot the whole thing until she ran into Mrs.

Kimura around Christmas.

They talked about Naoko, Margaret asked after Mr. Kimura, and Mrs. Kimura

asked after the captain; then Mrs. Kimura declared that she had just heard from Joe that

morning. Joe had moved to Japan as a dentist, thinking there would be more opportunity

there, but in the three years since going had never made up his mind whether to stay in

Japan or to come home. Lester could not make up his mind whether to join his brother or

to continue working for the Pacific Trading Company. Mrs. Kimura, Naoko, Cassandra,

Mrs. Wareham, and Margaret had been over the pros and cons of all the choices--it was

one of their standard topics of conversation. Now Mrs. Kimura reported that Joe and two

of his friends were planning to go to the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo before Christmas, to

leave off a letter of sympathy, and also a monetary contribution toward the medical and

dental needs of those wounded aboard the boat in China.

Margaret exclaimed, "That's very kind!"

Mrs. Kimura said, "Many have done same thing, wealthy businessmen down to

simple schoolgirls. American ambassador wife doesn't have moment to herself from

receiving wives of high families. I admit Joe not think of this, but two friends ask him."

"Even

so--"

"They agree to donate two weeks from their employment to this." She gave

Margaret a happy smile. "And Joe says he found bride from good family, twenty-sixyear-old. She has business sewing Western-style dresses for wealthy Japanese wives."

"Two weeks' pay, though!"

"To me, I see because of this that Japanese people will prevail over the warriors

of the army. Emperor is being pulled in two. He knows that Japanese people don't like

war in China, but the army foils their wishes every time. Two weeks' pay for this is how

much Japanese people want to live in peace."

Later, Margaret wished she had not mentioned this encounter at supper. Andrew

was skeptical, and Margaret was rather sharp when she said, "They've been very

forthcoming."

"Well, my dear, there is literally always more to everything than meets the eye.

The eye is a very poor instrument for seeing anything. Over on the island, they are very,

very suspicious."

"Of what, though?" Her voice was rising. She inhaled deeply. What did it matter,

really? She adopted a neutral expression. It helped.

"Of some sleight of hand. The orange will be pulled out from behind the ear, big

as life, and how did it get there when the magician was wearing short sleeves?"

She laughed. It wasn't very often that Andrew made her laugh, and he gave her a

gratified smile.

And then the incident of the boat (the
Panay)
was resolved, and the papers

completely stopped talking about it.

WITHOUT the universe, the big house was too small for him--the steep steps too

shallow, the high ceilings too low, the spacious rooms only a stride or two long.

Whatever she was doing, knitting or reading or cleaning or cooking, there was the

constant drum of footsteps--boot steps, really--so she was happy when he went out,

dressed nicely, always in a suit and well-shined shoes. He carried a walking stick and

wore a hat to keep off the sun. He walked fast, and he was healthy for a man of his age.

He would never be mistaken for a bum or a ne'er-do-well, she thought.

It was Officer Napolitano and Officer Kelley who stopped by one day and told her

that once in a while he would flag down someone driving a car; once in a greater while,

that person would stop, no doubt thinking that Andrew was an old man in distress.

Andrew would open the passenger door and get in, telling the driver (almost always a

woman) to drive him over the causeway to the island, or perhaps somewhere downtown.

One poor girl took him about for an hour and a half, while he did various errands. The