A Woman of Independent Means (15 page)

Je t'embrasse—and
Dwight too,
Bess

January 3, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Lydia,

We loved having all of you here for Christmas. It was especially good to see Manning again. Your frequent letters keep us close to you, but Manning has become a stranger to us. I must admit Rob and I were quite unprepared for his decision to leave the insurance business and enter the academic world. But we admire your decision to take a teaching job to support the family while he completes his graduate studies. I trust this new field of endeavor will satisfy his interests as a person and at the same time enable him to fulfill his responsibilities to his family. I am fortunate to be married to a man who takes such joy in his business, quite apart from the financial rewards, but I must confess to an equal fascination with the world of high finance. I know Rob will miss having Manning as a partner but I hope he will compensate by confiding more often in me.

Thank God we have won the war and can start working toward goals of our own. How I look forward to the coming year!

I must close now. Rob has been in bed for hours. He comes home from the office so exhausted that he is often already asleep by the time I read the children their bedtime stories. While he was away, I came to look upon the late night hours as my own. With the children asleep and the house quiet, I could escape completely into my own thoughts. I thought this would change once Rob was home, but it's hard to break the habit—and many nights I don't even feel like trying. I suppose that is why I do most of my letter writing at night. With pen in hand I can carry on my end of a conversation even though the other party is asleep. Still, it will be morning soon so I must try to rest. What a waste of time spending so many hours unconscious, eyes and ears closed to the beauty of the world. If I live to be a hundred, the days will never be long enough for me.

Write soon. I love hearing from you.

Love to you all,
Bess

January 10, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Mavis,

I have been meaning to write since Christmas, but the holidays left us all exhausted, and I am afraid the children paid for their “visions of sugarplums” with aching tummies. At last I dare say that is all it was. With influenza running rampant, no mother dares dismiss even the most common childhood illness, and I was terrified when one child after another showed the same symptoms.

Eleanor was the first to complain of stomach pains and the next day Drew joined her. Sturdy little Robin was the last to succumb, but one afternoon when I had tucked the other two in bed for a nap, he crawled in beside them and that night none of us slept. But the worst is over now and tonight all three are curled up beside their father in my mother's big double bed reenacting the battles of the war with their toy soldiers.

Miss Powell wrote of Papa's improvement, but I was glad to have your letter confirming her report. I am so happy she has relieved you of your responsibilities in the kitchen. Now you have more time to spend with Papa. You mustn't worry that you are neglecting him by no longer cooking for him. Remember, he married you for your mind, not your lemon meringue pie.

Please encourage Papa to follow Miss Powell's advice about proper eating habits. If you need any help along this line, do not hesitate to let me know. My father would swear he never took an order from a woman in his life, but looking back, I realize now it was my mother who made most of the decisions that shaped our lives. I always envied her ability to insinuate her ideas into other people's minds while remaining docile and eager to please on the surface. I have never been patient enough to practice this subterfuge and fortunately with my own husband it has not been necessary. We grew up being outspoken with one another and marriage has mercifully failed to impose more conventional manners on our relationship. But I know from past experience the flattery required to get my father to change his mind about anything, and I will be happy to help in any way I can.

Fondly,
Bess

January 25, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Marvin,

Rob awoke in the night with severe chest pains. I was able to persuade him to stay in bed today by promising to drive down to your office personally and put these contracts on your desk so that you would find them waiting on your return from Kansas City. He is most anxious to talk to you about the trip and discuss your feelings about opening a branch office there, so please call immediately.

However, allow me to interject a wifely word of caution at this point. In the last year Rob spent all his reserves of energy on the war bond campaign. He is simply in no condition to oversee an ambitious expansion program at this time. If you could advise a delay as a result of your findings on this trip, it would allow him time to recover at least some of his former strength.

As a stockholder I know the importance of moving ahead when the time is right but not at the risk of ruining the health of the man who began the business in the first place. I cannot take care of him alone. I can stand between my children and anything that threatens their well-being, but I can only stand beside my husband. I need your help—and so does he.

January 30, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Lydia and Manning,

Thank you both for writing. Your letters were so full of love and support I broke into tears when I read them. I had to compose myself before I took them in to Rob. I wish I could tell you he was feeling better but since I wrote you his exhaustion has given way to influenza—not a severe case according to the doctor, which I suppose means he has seen worse, but I haven't.

Rob seems so weak and helpless—and for the first time in his life welcomes every suggestion I make. Though I have always prided myself on an independent spirit, I see now I have been like a child, stubbornly insisting I can do everything alone but secure in the knowledge that someone wiser and stronger was waiting in the background, ready to help at the first sign of trouble. Whenever I have attempted anything on my own, Rob has always been standing by—to be summoned at a single cry. In my vanity I have thought I stood beside him as an equal, but in the past few days, with our roles reversed, I have felt for the first time the weight of unspoken dependence on my shoulders. I am just beginning to understand what enormous demands a wife and children make on a man—even though they may never ask for anything.

How I wish the two of you were here with me. During the holidays, as we went from one party to another, I felt as if I had lived in St. Louis all my life. Now suddenly I am a stranger here. I am afraid Rob may not recover and I cannot imagine life without him. When Papa was so ill last fall, I was able to accept the possibility of his death. I was filled with sorrow and determined to do everything in my power to prevent it, but I was prepared to be told that nothing could save him. I thought at the time my attitude was mature and reasonable but now it seems callous and insensitive. How dare we not be outraged by death, at whatever age it occurs!

Oh, my dears, keep your hearts close to mine. My own beats so loudly it obliterates the dreadful silence that surrounds me.

February 1, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Miss Powell,

This is an urgent appeal for your help. My husband is gravely ill and there is no one here I can trust as I do you. Please come to us.

My father is nearly recovered now and in my mind you are the reason. I have to believe you can accomplish the same miracle for my husband. Enclosed is a check to cover transportation costs and a month's salary. Please write me your arrival time and I will meet the train personally. I am desperate. The doctor says nothing can be done. Influenza must run its course. But I cannot stand by helplessly watching my husband suffer. You must come. You have my gratitude in advance—and forever.

Bess Alcott Steed