A Woman of Independent Means (16 page)

February 4, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Papa and Mavis,

Forgive me for taking Miss Powell away from you—and for not telling you sooner about Rob. It is difficult enough for someone in good health to bear the suffering of a loved one—I wanted to spare you as long as possible.

Rob is a victim of that terrible war as surely as any wounded soldier. This epidemic is thought to have originated in Europe and been conveyed across the ocean by returning soldiers. What grim irony that it was Rob's very effort on behalf of the war that left him exhausted and vulnerable to the new enemy brought home by the Armistice.

He is very weak but fights to remain conscious. It is an effort for him to speak but he manages a gallant smile every time he opens his eyes and sees me looking at him. It takes all my control not to kneel beside him and gather him into my arms but I must not let him see how frightened I am.

Pray for us both,
Bess

February 6, 1919
St. Louis

Mr. Joseph Darnell
Attorney at Law
The Wilson Building
Dallas, Texas

 

Dear Joe,

I am enclosing a codicil to Rob's will that he dictated to me this morning. The signature is very shaky but I can attest to its authenticity as I helped guide his hand. He has been bedridden with influenza for over a week now, and his condition grows more critical by the hour. The doctor says there is nothing more we can do—each body has to fight the disease in its own way. I am appalled at how helpless all the supposed advances of modern life have left us as individuals. Science may be the new religion, but I have yet to hear a minister say there is nothing more he can do. At least they pray with you to the end.

I remember how I had to urge Rob to make a will after our first child was born. We both felt we had our whole lives ahead of us, and he wanted no part in planning his death. But I had just seen my mother die at an early age, and I felt it was important to our child to plan our deaths as carefully as we were planning our lives. And of course you agreed with me.

Last night, as he dictated this, Rob forced me to face with him the terrifying possibility that his life may be coming to an end. But having faced it bravely, without flinching, as a soldier a firing squad, I must believe our courage will be rewarded and we will be allowed to return to battle side by side.

Thank you for all your help, dear Joe—for what you have done for us in the past as well as for what we may require of you in the future, though, God willing, it will be the distant future.

Devotedly,
Bess

February 8, 1919
St. Louis

Dear Papa and Mavis,

Miss Powell is truly an angel of mercy. She arrived two days ago and immediately took charge of the household. She never gives orders but conveys such an innate sense of authority everyone is anxious to accommodate her.

It is such a blessing that she knew Mother Steed when she was younger and stronger. I suppose any mother, seeing her child so perilously ill, would feel the whole balance of nature had been upset, but Rob's illness has shaken his mother to the core and she cannot even discuss it with the children without bursting into tears. But Miss Powell's presence seems to remind her of the strength she showed during her own husband's last illness and today she is much calmer.

Rob is a little better this morning—or am I just pretending that Miss Powell can work miracles? I know I am investing her with superhuman powers, but the doctor will not admit to any and God seems so far away. I have to believe that someone can help and aside from everything else she has done, Miss Powell has given me hope.

Your illness brought her into our lives, Papa, and so as terrible as it was for you and all of us who love you, it left at least one blessing in its wake. Now we must pray with clenched heart that these fierce waves will wash over us and leave us still clinging to the shore—spent and exhausted—but alive!

Your loving presence sustains me, even at a distance.

Lovingly,
Bess

 

FEBRUARY 10 1919
ST LOUIS

MR AND MRS MANNING SHEPHERD
2793 SWISS AVE
DALLAS TEXAS
ALL HOPE GONE COME AT ONCE ROB IS ASKING
FOR YOU

BESS

 

 

February 14, 1919
St. Louis
4 P.M.

Dearest Papa and Mavis,

Forgive me for ending our conversation so abruptly this morning. My throat closes when I say “dead” as if my whole body were trying to strangle the grim fact before my lips announce it.

Rob faced his death more honestly than I did, never indulging any false hope toward the end, but calmly making changes in his will and charting future courses of action for me to follow. The love he felt for me in life was never better proved than by the concern he showed for me in death. He spent his final hours anticipating every decision that awaited me, and now as I go about carrying out his instructions, his presence is still part of me. He was more afraid of leaving me alone than he was of dying, and he did everything he could to spare me those lonely decisions that every new widow must face.

Widow! My hand suddenly cramps with pain. And my fingers rebel as my throat did earlier. I must go to the children for awhile.

 

8 P.M.

The children are finally asleep and I will be following their example soon. I have always hated to turn out the last light, but tonight I am eager for oblivion. You must not worry about me. I am surrounded by people who share my grief, and for the sake of Papa's health, you must stay where you are.

Lydia and Manning arrived yesterday morning and spent all day at Rob's bedside. I was so thankful they could come. There was not a chapter of his life Rob did not try to complete in the short time left to him. Manning promised to stay with the company indefinitely, even though his interests now lie elsewhere. This is a sacrifice on his part, but one which I have accepted with gratitude. Lydia was too overcome with emotion to tell Rob good-bye, and today she is filled with regret at all the things she failed to say. She told me today Rob was and will always be the finest man she has ever known. How sad for Lydia to bestow that superlative on her brother rather than her husband.

Mother Steed is not speaking to me. Yesterday, after she said her farewell to Rob, she went to the children and told them all good-bye. She said her life was over, and she prayed she would be dead by morning. Then she announced she was going to bed—although it was only three in the afternoon. Eleanor of course broke into sobs. Drew was very brave and promised tenderly to bury her in the back yard beside his pet turtle. And Robin ran to me and asked solemnly if Daddy wanted all of us to die and go to heaven with him.

When dinner was served and Mother Steed refused to emerge from her bedroom, I took a tray up to her personally. I knocked but when there was no answer, I marched into the room, set the tray down on her bedside table, and announced that I would continue bringing her meals to her room. I said I could not permit her to see the children again until she could offer them some assurance that she wanted to go on living. If she intended to die, I continued, then they might as well get used to her absence now. She pretended to be asleep while I was talking, but after I slammed the door, I heard the rattling of silverware.

After putting the children to bed, I went back to Rob, relieving Miss Powell, who had kept devoted watch since dawn. I promised to wake her if there were any change. Then Rob and I were alone. For a few moments the sheer pleasure of completely possessing each other's attention allowed us to forget everything but the present. He reached for my hand and held it through the night. Though he slept for awhile, I could not bear to close my eyes, knowing he might soon be gone from my sight forever. I was filled with a strange sense of elation, and my tears seemed to spring more from a feeling of joy at what we had been given than from sorrow at what we were about to lose.

When morning came, Rob insisted I get the children ready for school. I shook my head, I wanted them with me today but then he reminded me it was Valentine's Day. On what other day does a parent send his child into the world and know he will come home feeling more loved than when he left? Rob kissed each of them good-bye and though it was an unbearable moment for me, they were so excited about the festivities awaiting them at school, they left without a backward glance.

When I came back into the room, I thought Rob was asleep but then he smiled and said for the first time since we met in the fourth grade he didn't have a Valentine for me. The two of us have never paid much attention to our birthdays. To me birthdays are a celebration between parent and child and Christmas is a birthday celebration for all children. But Valentine's Day belonged to the two of us, and Rob always prided himself on extravagant gestures on that occasion.

He asked me to lie down beside him and I did. He said I was his life and as long as I was alive, the best of him could not die. I clung to him and put my head against his chest. I could barely hear his heart beating and I was afraid I was making it more difficult for him to breathe, but when I raised my head, he pulled it back against his chest and said he thought he could sleep if I stayed with him. I fell asleep with his arms around me. A few hours later I was awakened by an awful silence. My head was still on his chest but his heart had stopped beating. At that moment I knew I had no right to be angry with Mother Steed. I wished with all my heart that I had never wakened from the last sleep we would ever share.

I stayed beside him till the pain of knowing he was dead was too great to be borne alone. Lydia and Manning were waiting in the next room, respecting my right to be alone with him at the last. I did not have to tell them. Though their loss is great, their first words were for me. Then they went into him and I went to Mother Steed. She knew from my face what had happened and before I could apologize for my burst of temper the night before she accused me of deliberately depriving her of a last word with her only son. She brought him into the world, she said, and had a right to be present when he left it.

I was dismayed and fled to my room. Somehow anger was able to dislodge the sobs buried deep inside me. I shrieked my rage and grief at the impassive ceiling that seemed to confine me in my room as cruelly as the sky prevented my soul from escaping this now alien earth.

I fell on my bed but lay awake for what seemed like hours. Finally Lydia came into the room and we shared our sorrow like sisters. Then I dressed and went downstairs to meet the doctor and the minister who had come to certify that the body was dead and the soul departed.

The funeral service will be held tomorrow in the cathedral. I have requested flags and trumpets to accompany the singing of “God of Our Fathers.” Perhaps it is an illusion ever to regard a single death as part of a larger sacrifice, but it is a comforting one and I have as much right to indulge in it as the widow of any soldier killed on the field of battle.

I have decided that the burial will take place here. So even if Mother Steed were still speaking to me today, she would not be tomorrow. She of course has space reserved for both her children in the family plot in Honey Grove. But death is defeat enough. I will not retreat into the past. St. Louis is where the present came to an end for us, and here I will stay until the future forces me to move in a different direction.

I must try to sleep now. There is so much to do tomorrow—thank God! If I imagine the two of you holding me close, I may have the courage to turn out the light.

Please love me.

 

2 A.M.

I finally fell asleep but was awakened a few minutes ago by Eleanor crying and calling for me. I brought her into my bed and she immediately fell asleep again cradled in my arms. What a blessing to forget my own need for a few minutes! The children think of me as someone strong and brave, and so with them I become everything they imagine.