My eldest brother, Jacob Tyler, had a large muscular build paired with crisp blond hair that was the envy of most men and formed to desires of many women. The second child of the family was Jacob’s complete opposite, and took more from my mother’s side of the family, reminding my father of his father-in-law. He was olive skinned, dark piercing eyes, and a slender lanky build. Jessica was the first girl born into the family, and she was a replica of her mother, minus the dark hair, in which she took after her father and her eldest brother before her. Both her father and Jay spoiled Jessica, leading her to think those two were her saviors, while her mother was a cruel nag. Following the favorite, Mary Scott was quite the opposite: she quickly took to William, and holding some jealousy for her sister, which was displayed at times owing to her terrible temper that she inherited from her father. Danny followed four years later, at which point Jay was nine years of age, William eight, Jessica six, and Mary five. The whole lot upstaged him: quieter, duller, and slightly slower, he was a mix between the coloring of Will and the build of Jay.
I was the last. Christopher, his mama’s baby, and as such I was clung to as if I was the link to her youth, while she was only twenty-four at my birth. I experienced both ridicule and praise during my early years: studious, scholarly, and above all strange, pummeled, pushed, struck, and snuggled. While I fought for everything, I was also given everything. Given nothing, frequently reminded that I had been given the world. I learned early the joy of reading and writing, and cried until I was allowed to go to school a year early. I sought William as my refuge from the world: never one to bubble over with sentiment, he would leave me money and small gifts in my pockets and drawers. I saw myself in him: we both sought independence, holding the family unit in some distrust. And yet Will was held up within the family as a shining example of what a son and brother should be: starting work at the age of seven, intelligent without being distractedly so, and a quiet member at the dinner table.
My father also held me in a special place in his heart. My father was an incredibly strong man, who had learned the art of stone carving when he was young. When my parents moved to South Carolina, he bought a small shop, where he worked in the lower level for several years, while they lived above. Three months after Jessica was born they purchased a large house some streets down from the shop.
My fondest early memory is of my first day of school: what promise it held for me! Rushing and tripping down the stairs to the kitchen to fight over chairs and my mother’s excellent cooking. I was usually awakened some two hours earlier than the rest, and watched my mother cook. Then my father would join us, and he would sit silently reading the newspaper from Charleston. By the age of three and some months, I was capable of reading some from that paper, sitting on his knee.
My brothers attended the local school, while Mary and Jessica were sent to the church school. My mother argued that girls should not be exposed to the trials of young boys, but it was clear to me that my mother thought it lent an air of sophistication to our family for keeping such standards. Suffering from no small amount of an inferiority complex, she often made harmlessly absurd decisions regarding the running of the family and household. All of my siblings were at least marginally successful in their schooling, excepting Danny, and at the age of five, I was thrilled at the prospect of attending school as well. A small argument took place at the last minute between my mother and father over my finally being allowed to join my siblings, but my father won his point, and off I ran with my mother calling after me with instructions to come home if I felt uneasy. My father had told me to come by the shop after school, which also promised to be quite a treat, as well as a distinction.
The first five years of the marriage were filled with heavy drinking, but no one suspected that Mr. Hanover was a drunk. Susan moved into a separate room once they moved into their house, in order to escape him, but this often caused many domestic quarrels as well. No emotion or affection passed between the two by the time I was old enough to recall such a thing. Susan suffered from a nervous condition, concerning which she visited the town doctor. Frederick was a jealous man, and he was even jealous of the visits that could only be due to his violent temper outbursts.
I immediately made a small group of friends in my new social sphere, something that I had not anticipated, being largely sheltered from anyone outside of my family up until this point. Willie Billing, Jethro Tanner, Whit Brown, and Judy Price will forever hold the distinction of being my first comrades and peers. Jacob, or Tie as he was known at school, had a pretty little girlfriend of which I was terribly jealous. So, I sought out a pretty girl of my own, which landed me Judy. A rosy complexion, nearly coal black eyes, ruby lips, and dark brown hair with tints of auburn cemented her as the prettiest object I’d ever laid eyes on, but what I liked about her best was her enthusiasm. She clapped her hands when I amused her and giggled at every silly thing I said, and she quickly became my favorite companion.
The teacher was stunned when I volunteered to write on the board and read from our reader. Before recess, she asked me if my parents would come in to speak with her about me. At lunch, I was further lauded, when I discovered that my mother’s cooking was famous among my school-fellows. Trading something from it could earn me a piece of candy or a marble or a kiss from an older girl, if I was lucky. I did have to be careful though, since Judy was jealous of every kiss I received, she being my most generous donator. If I wanted Judy to do something, all I had to do was plant a kiss on her cheek for her to agree to it. No one was surprised when after a few weeks I threatened Whit for teasing Judy, except perhaps for Whit, who assumed the bonds of boyhood would never be transcended by the bond between myself and a mere girl. "What does it matter?" he said peevishly. "It matters, because some day we’re going to get married, Whit Brown," I answered sternly, effectively ending the disagreement.
Following my first day, I raced to my father’s shop. By this time he was well established and respected in the town, and we lacked for nothing, even if my mother constantly worried about her standing. My father’s work could be found in all of the surrounding country: he mostly did headstones and decorations for graves, as this was the main need for such work in our town, but he also did statues and work on homes. Being very slight in my build until the age of eighteen, when my body came to resemble my father’s in more than my blond hair, blue eyes, and smile, I could barely push open the heavy door to his shop. My father, seeing the top of my head through the door window, jumped up from behind his desk to assist me. A young lady with long blond hair sat on a leather couch placed along the wall. Her light blue silk dress dipped daringly low, and she was easily eighteen years younger to my father’s thirty-five years. Not paying much attention to my father’s formalities, I missed her name. I was busy worrying why this lady was sitting in my father’s shop, thinking nervously about my sad mama sitting at home, missing me, if I did not know better. Sitting on the edge of his desk, I eyed her while she blew her nose into my father’s handkerchief, crying about her papa’s death. I began to kick my feet, bored with the business going on around me, and after what seemed like an eternity, my father stood up to walk her to the door. She finally managed a smile as he handed her out, saying, "Mrs. Hanover is the luckiest of women." My father shook his head, shutting the door behind her. "Don’t I wish your mother felt the same!" he said with a chuckle.
My father took me to the drugstore and bought me a chocolate soda, urging me to tell him all about my first day at school. A few ladies paused to smile and say hello to my father, but on this afternoon, he was too engrossed with my rambles to pay them much attention. My father always politely resisted the women that seemed to flock around him, being the dutiful, if not the most agreeable husband. It became a habit for my father to treat me at least once a week to a soda after school, and the lure of such a treat far outweighed the chores that awaited me at home.
He made time for me when no one else in the family seemed to have much time. Mother happened to be in Memphis prior to Thanksgiving, visiting a sister, and she had taken Mary with her. They had already been gone for a week, and wouldn’t return for three more. Jacob and his girl, Caroline Beecher, had gone to the picture show in a neighboring town. Dan was down the street with John Canhart, shooting marbles, but he had denied me the chance to come along with him. Jessica was keeping an eye on me, while father slept in a large chair in the sitting room. She seemed anxious to leave, and when William walked through the door declaring he would take me fishing down at Welkin’s Creek, if I liked, she clapped her hands and rushed for her cape. Now she too would be able to escape the house and go with Robert and Becca Baker to the drugstore.
So, Will and I strolled down to the creek, and I spoke of Judy. I liked to talk to Will about her, because not only did he refrain from teasing me, but he also was very fond of her. We were stretched out on the bank, and I had just asked if I should propose to Judy when we turned fifteen or sixteen, when Jessica came hurrying over the hill completely out of breath and red in the face. "Thank the Lord I found you! Come quick!" William grabbed her wrists, "What is it Jess, hon.…something wrong?" Even in her state of terror, Jessica gave a shudder at the dirt on Will’s hands, and he withdrew them. She wiped away a tear that was rolling down her face and grabbed my hand. "It’s papa, and I’ve found him face down, dead like. I think she finally killed him!" William didn’t wait for anymore vague explanations, and we followed quickly behind, Jessica having a death-grip on my hand the entire way home.
Before coming to get us, Jessica had the good sense to run up the street to send Dan for the doctor, and by the time we got back to the house father was being attended to. He was not dead, but he was more dead than alive. The doctor said his heart rate was variable, and it was likely that a large shock had proceeded the attack. A letter from mama was clearly the culprit, and I read it before anyone had the sense to put it away:
Mister Hanover,
My sister, Lavern and Mr. Burner being so kind are taking care of Mary and me amply well in Memphis. They have given us nearly a wing of the boarding house as our own, as our bedrooms are attached by a small sitting room from which I am writing you now. Lavern’s two girls are wonderful companions for Mary, as they are well accomplished and educated, and I have never seen Mary so happy. We’ve bought some new clothes, as they have new fashions that I have not seen before here in the shops. Memphis is a growing city, and we find many things to do and have already met with some very fine people that visit Mr. Burner and my sister.
In short, we find that three more weeks will simply not be enough time for all that is planned. I expect to spend many more months here, and I will enroll Mary in the girl’s school where Emily and Katie attend. I do so with the intention of settling down here, since I have found this trip suits my nerves so very well. With no intention of returning, I entreat you to take care of Christopher, knowing that the others can take care of themselves. I will send Mary for the summer holidays, if you wish it, and I will send some money to pay for a train ticket for Chris, if you would be so good as to send him sometime this spring to see his dear mama.
Send all my love, as I know they will understand, having always been closer to you as it is. And send news if anything spectacular happens. You can reach me at Sweet Grove Boarding House, Memphis, Tennessee.
Respectfully,
Miss Susan Greenfield
--Please send our clothes in the large blue trunk
at the foot of my bed
Totally stunned, I began to cry, and shoved the letter into Will’s hands, feeling that if anyone would know what to make of it, Will would. Will did not take the time to read the letter until we were alone in our beds that night. Reading it four times, he continued to shake his head and rub his temples. "This is sheer madness," he uttered under his breath, yanking open the drawer of his desk and fishing out paper. He slapped it down and gestured for me to come over to him. "I’m going to have you write to mother. She must know what has happened, and I’m sure she would want to know. Don’t tell anyone about her letter. Do you understand?" he asked surrendering the chair to me. I climbed into the chair, feeling unequal to the task, but knowing that refusing Will’s demand would be out of the question.
Dear Mother and Mary Scott,
Unfortunately, my letter must be hurriedly written to inform you of our father’s desperate illness. His heart has received a terrible shock, and if William and I had not found the letter from you, mama, lying close by him, we would not have been able to reach you at your current address so quickly.
The doctors have told Jay, Will, and Jess father’s chances, but no one tells me these sorts of things. Jess is fairly hysterical, saying he won’t last more than a week. He hasn’t regained consciousness.
Perhaps, mama, you should come home, and sit with father the way we all have been. I miss you both. Keep father in your prayers.
Love,
Christopher Hanover
Jessica was furious when she heard that William had mailed something to mother. "How dare you! You should have at least consulted the rest of us first. I for one don’t want her here. It isn’t as if she cares. She probably won’t even come, so you’ve wasted your time!" She burst into tears upon completion of her rage, and Jacob held her. "Chris, get your sister some water. She’s born this harder than the rest of this."
Jessica was wrong though, mama did arrive some three days later, having taken the first train back. Mary had been crying, and she was immediately ushered off to bed, it being too late for her to see her father. Mother was more a ghost than a person. Her skin was a sick white, and her face was blank. "Where is your father?" she asked me coldly. "He’s in his room, but no one can see him at night." "Well, you go sit with him, and I’ll be there in a few moments," she said, seemingly unaware of what I’d said. When I ran up the stairs, I bumped into the doctor, who patted me on the head. "I’m going to speak to your mother for a while, Chris," he said passing by me, also seemingly unaware that I was breaking the sick rule of nighttime visitors. But mama reached the top of the stairs before the doctor could descend them, and sitting on my father’s bed, I could hear their conversation through the half open door.
"Mrs. Hanover, I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you of your husband’s heart problem. Do you know the serious nature of such a problem? He hasn’t regained consciousness, you see." "He’s always been so healthy…I just can’t understand this at all." "Please, Susan, take my handkerchief. I’m doing my very best. Shock has caused an attack on his heart, and he must have been a weak heart patient all along. Perhaps from his drinking…he can’t ever drink again if he pulls through." "There is no hope then. I’ve lost him forever this time!" "Mrs. Hanover, you must control yourself. You must for your children…and for your husband." "What then are his…what are his chances?" "One out of ten men survive this type of attack, and one out of fifty might live to see no real ill effects. But most likely, he has been lucky to live this long, and he might live another week should he come out of the comatose state." My mother moaned. "Would you like to see him?" "I would upset him." "Mrs. Hanover, I will ask you again, if you would like to see your husband."
The door opened and my mother slid into the semi dark room. She quickly studied his drawn face, and covered her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping. She came to sit on the side of the bed, laying her hand on his chest. "Christopher, leave me alone with your father," she said without taking her eyes off my father. Obediently I left the room, and went down to the sitting room, where my elder siblings still sat half asleep.
Perhaps an hour passed before my mother came down the steps, griping the rail tightly and leaning on it for support. William’s head jerked up, and seeing her begin to slump on the stairs, he dashed up to her and grabbed her up. "Mother you’re exhausted!" "No, no, I’m fine. Just help me to a chair." Will performed this duty with the rest of us looking on. "He woke up," she whispered. Jessica jumped up from her chair, but mother held up her hand to wordlessly stop her. "No, he’s asleep now…don’t bother him just now." Jessica twisted her skirt in her hand, looking angrily at the ground.
Having emerged from his comatose state, mother never left father’s side, night or day. There were no guarantees that he would survive, but it seemed as if mother had her way, she would will him to live. The rest of us would have to wait patiently to take our turn in the sick room, mother always being loath to give up her position of caretaker. But if we could convince her to eat something or catch a few hours of sleep, one of us would then be allowed to sit with father. Jessica was always the most driven to take mother’s spot, and whispering that mama only took such a decided interest in him now that he was close to death.
It was clear that mother was repentant, and perhaps father was as well, for both were at fault in the way their lives had drifted apart. His recovery amazed our doctor, and made us feel more at ease about his and our future. Two weeks before Christmas he was sitting with us and while not being as mobile as usual, showed no ill effects while sitting down and speaking with his family. My father was thirty-eight years old and my mother some six years younger, and having been given a second chance at happiness and mutual understanding; it seemed they embraced it completely.
