William generously gave me the money to buy everyone’s gifts that year. Judy received a locket that would hold a picture, and she was so pleased with it that she put my picture in it, after having procured it from my house. In turn, she gave me a piece of her hair braided into a bracelet that I wore until it fell apart some months later. Jessica and Mary received silk ribbons for their hair, mother a French handkerchief, and I little vase for Caroline Beecher that she could put in her new house. The gifts for my male family members were somewhat more costly, as ribbons and cloth would never do for them. I gave my father a subscription to Artisan, of which I paid for one fourth and Will the majority. Will also helped me purchase a leather law book for Jay, as he was studying to take the law school entrance exams. Dan eagerly took a baseball glove, and Will was grateful for a pack of cigarettes. I was equally lucky in my gifts, which included small tin soldiers, a new baseball and bat, a bag of gumdrops, and my very own bee-bee gun.
So the holiday season was the best in my short memory, and it seemed as if our family was truly going to be contented for the first time. We were all tested once more in early February, when my mother was picking at her food looking deathly pale. She stood up to get one of us another glass of milk, but she had to grab onto the back of her own chair, feeling light-headed. My father leapt up and took her by the arm. "Let me get you to bed, Sue." She didn’t protest, and when my father returned down the stairs, he instructed Will to run for the doctor. The rest of us cleaned off the table and quietly went about some routine chores, but my father paced the kitchen, arms folded across his chest.
When the doctor arrived, my father breathed a sigh of relief. "She’s in my room, Dr. Armen," he said following him up the stairs. "Let me have a few minutes alone with the patient, Mr. Hanover," the doctor said, easily perceiving, I suppose, that my father intended on following him into the bedroom. As I sat at the bottom of the stairs, worrying that my mama was sick, the doctor came bustling down the stairs, and absently patted the top of my head. My father did not follow, and William approached Dr. Armen as he reached the door. "Is everything alright?" "Oh yes, everything is fine," he said with a smile, placing his hat atop his head once more and closing the door behind him.
An event was coming that would change the face of our family forever. A new addition to our family would be greeted by some as a blessing, and by others, as nothing more than trouble. While all of us were shocked and surprised by the announcement, Jessica seemed to take the news as a personal attack. She would not speak a word in mother’s presence, she frowned whenever she was with us, and she spent most of her time outside of the home. It clearly was taking a toll on mother, and Jessica was careful to hide her bitterness around our father, knowing that mother would be shy about complaining of Jessica’s treatment to father.
Jessica was spending a good deal of time with a bricklayer who had come to town some three weeks before the final blow up. Bob Ryle was of unknown origin, and certainly was not of the caliber any of us were used to associating with, but Jessica was threatening to run away daily to Jay, and I suppose Bob Ryle was as good a man to take her away as any. Mother had heard of this man, but she had kept her mouth shut, knowing that her opinion would not be much heeded by her daughter.
Alone with mother one afternoon, I watched her making a pie. In the door came Jessica, looking flustered and out of breath. She looked around to see if anyone else was home. "Hello Chris," she said gloomily. "Mama’s making a pie, Jess," I said, scampering down from the counter where I’d been allowed to sit and observe. She ignored my comment and entered the kitchen, putting her bags down on the kitchen table. "What have you been up to?" mother asked, turning to look at Jessica. Jessica looked mother steely in the eye and refused to answer. "I have a right to know," she said turning back to her baking. "No, I don’t see that you do," she said shoving the chair closest to her. "I won’t have you behaving this way, Jessica!" mother said, raising her voice. "Well, I won’t have you telling me what to do! I hate you!" I was horrified at my sister’s cruel words. "Get out of my sight. God forbid your father ever hears of this," my mother said, beginning to tear up and tremble.
Jessica flung from the room and came back down the stairs some ten minutes later carrying a carpet bag with her. I stood dumbly by the door as she brushed past me, but at the last minute she turned back and grabbed my hand pulling me out the door with her. "Christopher, you listen to me: you move out of here as soon as you can. When you’re sixteen like me, the best thing you can do is to get out on your own. Now, you be good and tell Jay I’ll write him as soon as I’m settled somewhere, and not to worry about me." I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. I thought the she would come back, and only after a few weeks did it become clear that Jess was never coming back.
We received a letter from her directed to Jay after perhaps a month had passed. The letter enraged my father. It told of her marriage to Bob Ryle and gave their current locale as Boston. It asked nothing of our family or gave any consideration towards the worry that any of us might have felt at her abrupt disappearance. She had worried mama perhaps most of all, as she felt it was somehow her fault that Jessica had run off. His face had grown very red while reading it, and he crumpled it up throwing it into the fire before he even finished. Instructing us to never tell our mother about the letter, he asked Mary to assist him in a deception: Mary’s handwriting being nearly identical to Jessica’s she was dictated a letter to give to mother that was much more considerate. And after that moment, none of us ever mentioned Jessica again in front of my mother or father.
With two of my eldest siblings gone, the house seemed decidedly quiet and different, so much so that I looked forward to the birth of my new little brother or sister with high anticipation. And so it also seemed a blessing when William broke his right arm and could not work at the newspaper office for some two months while it healed. While it drove him crazy to be at home so much, dependent on others, my mother adored it. Will had always loved our mother very dearly, so he did not mind spending time with her, but it bothered him that it was she doing for him, rather than the other way around.
I also got to spend more time with Will than usual, and our talks were more frequent. I did not know until that point how much Will had his life planned out. He had a jar full of crumpled up money that he kept on his dresser, and I wondered why he did not use those funds during his lying up. "I’m saving that for a rainy day." "Seems like a good time to me," I said lifting the heavy thing down and turning it around in my hands. "I’m nearly eighteen, Chris, so I got to keep saving." "Aw, no one is going to throw you out of the house, Will. Jacob stayed into his eighteenth year, and he’d still be here if he and Caroline hadn’t gotten married." "Do you know Naomi Danker?" "You mean…?" I didn’t know what to call Naomi without making Will mad. I only knew that she lived in the house of ill repute, but beyond that not much more. "Yeah, well she’s a good girl. She’s only fifteen…Mary’s only a year younger than her." "She looks much older than that." "Well, with the makeup and clothes, I suppose. Her family is so poor that her father sold her to Mr. Fanner to feed the younger ones, and she was only thirteen then. Can you even imagine that?" Will’s voice was getting scratchy, and I wasn’t sure he required a response. "No one thinks of that sort of thing when they see those poor girls. I don’t want anyone touching her, and any money I can spend to keep her with me and not with anyone else is money well spent, but now I’ve got nothing coming in, and I can’t be spending my savings. When I have enough in that jar, I’m going to see that no one ever touches her again. I’ll buy her contract from Mr. Fanner, and I’ll ask her to marry me, if she’ll have me."
In July of the same year, the annual summer festival was held, lasting through the weekend of the 4th. There was a pie contest in which Judy took part, and she promised me the extra pie she baked in preparation. There was plenty of food at the festival and Judy and I shared a little bit of everything between the two of us. Will spent a good part of the time escorting Naomi around the fair, and mother noticing, she asked me who the girl was. I told her it was a friend of Will’s. Saturday night was the big dance, and our whole family was turned on in their finest attire. A young man named Jeff took Mary, and I spent the evening dancing with Judy. Will brought Naomi, and I noted that she had an old dress of Jessica’s on. Her curly strawberry blond hair was set off by the pale green dress, and without her usual makeup on she looked her age and very pretty.
Will brought her over to where I stood with Judy to introduce us properly. "Naomi, this is my brother Chris and his friend, Judy Price." Naomi stood looking down at the ground, biting her lip. Will touched her chin, and she looked up, whispering ‘hi’. "And this is Naomi Danker," he said finishing the introductions. "Do you know where mother is? I’d like her to meet Naomi." Naomi’s eyes grew large and she grabbed onto my brother’s arm. "Oh no! Later, not today, please…next week or the week after, perhaps." "No, it’s now or never. Quit biting your lip and we’ll make the introductions." Naomi was turning red as William nearly pulled her towards the sitting area where my mother was talking with some neighbors. As I watched from a distance my mother seemed to gently interact with Naomi, and when William pointed to a chair next to mother, Naomi sat down in it and spoke with her for perhaps ten minutes more before he led her away.
That evening William came home an hour after me and we were all sitting in the sitting room discussing the evening. My father joked when he came in: "so nice of you to join us." "No jokes, please," he said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it quickly. "Not in the house!" mother scolded, and William put it out on the back of his hand. "William! Your hands!" mother said worriedly. "I’m fine." "What are you so angry about?" she asked, continuing to press. "I’m fine. Goodnight." "Why don’t you sit down here with us? Your mother and I would like to talk to you." "I figured," he said with an angry sigh folding his arms across his chest and refusing to move. "It’s about the young girl you introduced me to this evening." "You can’t keep me from her." "Your mother and I have no intention of making such a proclamation, William. If you would hear your mother out…" "Aw, she ain’t nothing but a whore," Dan said bored with the conversation. William uncrossed his arms and made a step towards Dan. "Watch your mouth," he growled. "What you gonna marry her? Even though everyone knows she’s been with half the town?" Dan said laughing. William lunged at Dan, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him out of his chair. Father immediately jumped up to try to get between the two of them, but Will was already landing punches, and Dan was screaming. There was mass confusion with everyone jumping out of their chairs and everyone yelling at each other to do something or stop something. Finally Will knocked Dan to the ground, and putting one foot on his chest panted: "don’t you ever speak about Naomi that way again, because next time I’ll kill you."
Will was already heading up the stairs, and Dan was wiping blood away from below his nose. "I was just kidding," he whined. "You’ll get yourself to bed," my father said. "Let me clean him up, Frederick." "No, he can do it himself. Now get out of my sight, Dan." I wanted to follow Will to our room, but my father stopped me, saying: "tell William that I’ll need to speak with him when he’s ready."
The attic was cold, as the window was open and a stiff wind was blowing into the room. Will was standing in front of our small mirror above the wash bowl and his face was dripping. "That little bastard can really scratch," he said turning to show me the gash below his dark hairline. "You had to do it," I said seriously. "He’s my brother for God’s sake. I shouldn’t try to kill him, and I shouldn’t behave like that in front of mother and Mary," his voice was shaking, and he sounded frightened by himself. "In the end, I don’t know if I can protect her. I can’t even keep my ten year old brother in line." I was still focused on the word ‘kill’ in his previous statement. "Were you aiming to kill him?" "I did sort of want to…but I couldn’t…I could never do that. I love her you know." I didn’t answer, sitting quietly on my bed. "I guess father isn’t finished with me, huh?" "Nope," I whispered, and Will trudged down the stairs out of earshot.
"No, listen to him, Frederick," my mother pleaded. "I need to borrow from you. I don’t have time to explain. It’s for Naomi: I need to get her away from there," Will said hurriedly, as he wiped at his brow. My father stood silently, taken aback by the request, and sensing her son’s eagerness to leave, my mother touched my father’s arm. "Just give him the money." My father nodded, and made his way to the door, grabbing his coat as he did so. "Follow me to the shop: there is whatever you need in the safe there." And with that, they both left.
When William returned, we were all somewhat more acquainted with what had happened, as William had told my father the scanty details as they had made there way to the shop. Naomi had locked herself in one of the rooms at Mr. Fanner’s, refusing to come out for any reason, and when they had broken down the door, she had been physically punished for her stubbornness. My mother had instructed us not to say anything when Will returned, but we were all sitting in the parlor when he did return, this time with Naomi.
Naomi was wearing Will’s overcoat, which was quite a bit too large and had slipped off one shoulder to reveal a ripped dress. Her hair was disheveled and there was a bright red bruise forming on her cheekbone. William said nothing for a moment, only observing us, and standing behind Naomi, he pulled the one shoulder of his coat back up. Realizing that everyone was watching them, Naomi turned her back to us and said something inaudible to anyone but Will. But Will gently turned her back around to face us.
"Naomi isn’t feeling well, so I don’t think now is the time for introductions," he said firmly. Mary stood up, and walked towards her brother. "We have a room made up. Would she like to come get cleaned up?" She spoke quietly, but Naomi visibly tensed. "Mary will take you upstairs. Go on, it’s alright," he urged, gently pushing her towards the stairs. "Shall I help?" my mother asked, but William shook his head, indicating that no one else should move.
At dinner William took both his dinner and Naomi’s up to her room, although my mother had tried to convince him that she should come eat with the family. He assured her that Naomi would join us eventually, but for now she was far to embarrassed to sit through a family meal. My mother was even more disappointed when he returned with her tray mostly untouched. "She couldn’t keep it down," he explained. My mother was always worried about everyone’s constitution, and hearing that Naomi "hadn’t been eating right for some time," made her cringe.
That night, I waited for Will to come to bed. I wanted to tell him how glad I was that Naomi had come to stay with us, and see how she was feeling, but I waited in vain. William stayed with Naomi that night, sleeping on the hard wood floor next to her bed. I was not sure anyone else was aware of this fact, as I was sure my mother would frown upon such arrangements, but I found out quickly that I should not expect Will to come to bed at night.
Over the next few weeks, Naomi slowly seemed to grow more comfortable around the rest of us. She would help my mother prepare meals, hang out the wash with Mary, and she seemed to enjoy sitting in the parlor listening to other people’s conversations while she quietly did mending or knitted the excess of scarves she seemed to be fond of. And it was not only Naomi that grew more comfortable with the situation: we all were adjusting to her presence as well, and we all found that she was a joy to have around.
Having left the process to Dr. Armen, Naomi came to sit on the back porch with Will and I. "Mr. Hanover seems terribly nervous," she observed. I kicked at the leg of the chair Will was sitting in, mindlessly, and commented, "well, that wasn’t always the case." Will gave me a look, and quickly corrected me, "yes it was." I sat forward, determined that I knew better. "No, I know that you’ve said that he didn’t care..." "I would never say our father didn’t care," William said sternly. Naomi knit her brow. "I can’t think that of Mr. Hanover: he obviously loves your mother very much," she said with innocent belief in her observational powers. "He does," Will asserted, trying to put an end to the discussion. But Naomi smiled, and continued on: "he’s good, like you, Will." William shook his head, but took her hand.
After five hours the doctor came down the good news: my mother was tired, but healthy, and so was her baby boy. "Where is your father? He isn’t in the house," he asked, as he scanned the back yard. "He might be in the front yard," William said as he stood up. "I’ll go look for him." Will walked off the back porch, and I went into the house, hoping they would let me see my baby brother, but Mary would not let me go up the stairs until my father came in and saw my mother first. He looked pale when he came in through the front door, and he asked Mary if "she was really alright?" before climbing the stairs.
I was no longer the youngest, and I had another brother. My parents named him Frederick Edward Hanover, and decided to call him Edward. Everyone agreed he was beautiful, and he quickly became a focus for all our family moments.
As Thanksgiving approached, my mother decided to try to rectify the situation through an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. She dragged both me and the new baby to pay an unexpected visit to Carolina one afternoon. Caroline answered the door after a long interval of waiting and knocking repeatedly. Her face looked worn, as did her dress, and she quickly wiped her hands on her apron, trying to force a smile. "I wasn’t expecting you...mother," she said awkwardly. "No, I know, but we haven’t been by in some time," my mother said, peering around her daughter-in-law into the messy house. "Jay isn’t here," Caroline said, biting her lip and clearly uneasy. "We came to pay you a visit," my mother explained, as she began to step through the door, although Caroline had still failed to invite us in. "Well, you can come sit in the parlor, I’ll have to clear a space," she said, springing into action.
The parlor appeared to be the most composed part of the house, from what I could see, but there were papers on the chairs and the sofa, which Caroline was stacking and piling on the table. As she bent over the light hit her face from the window, and I noticed a red welt on her one cheek. It appeared that my mother had seen it as well, as she stepped closer to Caroline, and said quietly, "what happened to you, my dear?" Caroline spasmodically touched her face, and started to stutter. "I fell," she finally managed to answer. "On your face?" Caroline dropped some of the papers in her hand, and sat down with a sigh. My mother sat down as well, rearranging the baby in her arms before she began her invitation. Before she had a chance the sound of the door interrupted her.
