Chapter 4
The children’s wing was far enough from the rest of the house that just about anything could transpire there and no one would hear. On the first night away from the Eagle’s Nest Retirement Center, Bernice Smith was having a meltdown. Nelda was used to caring for her when sundowner’s syndrome turned a normally lucid Bernice into a confused, whining woman.
Pam was in the kitchen, making tea at midnight, when she heard murmuring coming from Marie’s old room. She turned the gas off under the kettle and tiptoed into the hallway leading to the rooms.
“Bernie, just sit here for a minute and let me get my nightgown on. You’re all ready for bed, now it’s my turn.”
“Why are we here? I want to go back to the mansion.”
“This is Jack and Pam’s house. You remember, don’t you? We’re here for their picnic. You love the beach.”
“Where’s Jack? I don’t care for Pam, you realize that, correct?”
Pam snickered; age-old dislike was difficult for even the most compassionate daughter-in-law to deal with. She was ready to burst in and send the old witch back to the nursing home, but wanted to hear what else she had to say first.
“Jack died,” Nelda said. “He died before the picnic, so we didn’t have one that year. Last year was the first picnic Pam had without him. We had such a great time! You laughed and flirted with all the men here; don’t you remember?”
Pam waited for Bernice’s reply.
“Maybe I remember, maybe I don’t. So much has changed. My sons, my beautiful home, all gone. I might remember a picnic here. When Albert was alive, we used to go to picnics in Central Park every Sunday.”
“Who’s Albert?” Nelda asked. Pam’s heart started pounding. She knew who Bertram Albert was. “I thought your husband’s name was Harold.”
“Bertram Albert was Jack’s father,” Bernice said softly, lucid.
Pam leaned up against the wall, hopeful Bernice would go on with the story.
“You never mentioned him before,” Nelda replied. “I didn’t know you’d been married twice.”
“I wasn’t. We were going to get married, and then he died,” Bernice said, and Pam could hear the sadness in her voice. “Albert knew I was pregnant with Jack before he died. Of course, back in those days you didn’t know what you were going to have. I remember telling him I thought I was going to have a baby. It was devastating. My parents were working class. Back in those days,” Bernice used that phrase over again, “working class Jews lived off Delancy. It’s not like it is today, with all the same stores you find on Madison Avenue. The people you passed on the street were the same ones whose parents and grandparents had lived there, too. Back in those days, you could get the best knishes I’d ever tasted right on the street from a cart. My father was a cobbler, and his shoes were sought after by nurses and teachers, anyone who had to stand on their feet all day. My mother was a housewife, but she baked amazing cakes and pies. During the Christian holidays, the bakeshop on 2nd Avenue bought everything she baked. It was a Jewish bakery, but a lot of Italians had moved into the neighborhood during the war. My parents were simple people, but they weren’t stupid, and they were strict. I could not go to them pregnant and unmarried. They’d have disowned me.”
Pam was trembling, listening to her mother-in-law’s heartbreaking story.
“So what did you do?” Nelda had stopped undressing and was sitting on the edge of the bed next to Bernice, holding her hand.
“I left home. My excuse was job related. And then when Albert died, I was sunk. It wasn’t unusual back in those days for a young woman to go away to work and not see her parents often. I tried hiding the pregnancy so I could continue working, and succeeded. No one could tell.
“Harold had been hounding me a long time. I was a secretary in his father’s construction office. After I had the baby, after I had Jack, and told him the truth, he was shocked, but he didn’t judge me. He asked me to marry him. I knew it wasn’t ideal, but he was kind to me and wealthy, and he said he’d raise Jack as his own son.
“I knew Harold had ways about him that I might find disagreeable, but I was desperate. After we were married, we moved into the mansion with the Smiths. Mrs. Smith was wonderful to Jack and me. She would have continued to play an important role in my children’s lives if she’d lived. When she was around, everyone was on their best behavior, especially the sons. But after her death, everything sort of fell apart.
“The old man died a year later, and then the brothers tried to keep the business going. There was a construction boom after the Korean conflict; all the soldiers coming home from the war started families and needed housing. Harold jumped on it. All of those awful high rises along the FDR? Harold. Yes, he could smell out a deal on land. When the housing market dried up, he started the demographics end of the business.
“So the money continued to come in. But I knew monetary success wasn’t going to be enough for Harold. He needed continuous stimulation. Of every kind. You know what I mean, Nelda. You were married.”
Nelda had no idea what Bernice was talking about, although her reference to being married must mean there was a sexual connotation. But Bernice didn’t wait for Nelda to answer.
“He was abusing the boys. You’d have to be blind and deaf not to see it. Our first housekeeper quit because she couldn’t watch what was happening. I knew Harold had the police in his back pocket for other things, so no one was going to report him. No one would believe it anyway.”
Nelda was shocked. She never, ever heard a peep about what Bernice was confessing. Frank repeated stories about the wealthy inhabitants of Manhattan, alluding to Smith family gossip. Genoa heard whispers about it, too, and told Frank what she’d heard. Nelda was too busy trying to manage her family to listen carefully. Now she was sorry she hadn’t. She could have prevented Pam from marrying into the family. Knowing what she did about Jack, it was clear there was something familial about the behavior.
“Why’d you put up with it, Bernice? Those were your boys. You gave birth to them. They were yours to protect.”
“I don’t know. I guess I was selfish. I didn’t want my life to change. I traded my boys’ well-being for a grand house, for wealth and prestige. It sounds cliché, but it’s the truth.” She paused and looked at Nelda.
“Did you know I was an alcoholic?” Bernice asked.
Nelda nodded her head. “I did.”
“Are you going to judge me for it?”
“No, of course not, Bernice. I drank, too. I guess I was also an alcoholic. Many of the women in my neighborhood drank too much. I often wonder to this day how I managed to raise such lovely women. It must have been due to Frank. He was a wonderful man. Everything you’ve said about Harold I don’t get. My husband was just the opposite. He continuously told his girls how valuable they were to him.”
“Don’t get me wrong; Harold loved the boys,” Bernice said, getting defensive. “He really did. His father treated him in the same way; it was how the Smiths dealt with children, like chattel. I’m not condoning it. It’s just the way the family worked. I couldn’t deal with it, so I drank when I realized that it was too late to change, to walk away. At least I was there. He’d never let me take the boys. If I’d left Harold, he’d be with the boys, alone.
“Promise me you won’t think less of me if I tell you something.”
Nelda couldn’t imagine what would be worse than what she’d already heard. “Of course, I promise,” she said, warily preparing for what was next.
“I never told Jack that Harold wasn’t his father.”
Nelda was stunned, but she didn’t reply.
“Evidently, he found out when Albert’s oldest daughter sought Jack out. Harold and I got married when Jack was two months old, and Harold had Jack’s birth certificate changed to reflect him as Jack’s father.
“I wondered if Jack confronting Harold had anything to do with his death. Jack found out about Albert, went to Harold, and shortly after, Harold had a massive heart attack. And the
n Jack confronted me. I didn’t say the right words; didn’t admit that I was aware of the boys being abused and didn’t apologize for allowing it. Because of that, Jack never spoke to me again.”
Pam was stunned. So Bernice knew all along that Jack had discovered his paternity. She could hear soft whimpering; Bernice must have been crying. Nelda was whispering something that Pam couldn’t hear. She didn’t want to hear anymore, but felt compassion for her mother. Nelda shouldn’t have to endure Bernice alone. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas and tapped on the door before opening it. Bernice was sitting on the bed, and Nelda had her arm around her, holding her.
“Oh, sorry to disturb you both. Looks like I’m interrupting something important.”
“No, you’re fine. Yes, it’s important; no you’re not interrupting. I could use a little back-up right about now,” Nelda said, sarcasm rife. “Actually, I’d like a glass of wine. Am I allowed to have any, seein’ how I’m in a friggin’ nursing home?”
“Mother, of course you can have wine. Do you two want to come out to the kitchen?”
Nelda helped Bernice stand up, and the three women left the children’s wing together. Bernice, wiping her eyes with a tissue, looked out the window and could see the soft landscape lighting leading down the wooden path to the beach and the moonlight reflecting on the water. The tide was going out, and the surf was gentle, the waves barely breaking as they rolled in.
“How beautiful this is,” Bernice said, sniffing. “Every time I visit now, I remember how wonderful it was to be here when the children were home and Jack was alive.” She looked at Pam. “Thank you. Thank you for tolerating me. I know I wasn’t always as kind to you as I should have been.”
Pam went to her and embraced her; afraid to speak for fear she would begin to cry. Bernice had been awful, but in Pam’s current melancholy mood, she’d forgive her anything.
“It was wonderful when the children were young, wasn’t it? I think the same thing all the time. It was the happiest time of my life.”
“Where’s the wine, Pam? While you two are walking down memory lane, I need to start pouring.”
“Oh, sorry, Mother. In here, where it always is,” she said, going to the wine cooler next to the pantry door. She opened a bottle of white wine and poured three big glasses. The ladies were going to get tipsy tonight.
“Let’s go out on the veranda,” Nelda suggested. She took a glass and Bernice’s arm while Pam grabbed a tray with the rest of the glasses and bottle.
They would stay up talking until sunrise, three women who had lived very different lives, joined together by a man no one really knew. There’d be no more shocking revelations, but they would laugh about fun times from the past, comparing memories of Pam and Jack’s wedding, the births of the babies, and recent sadness, all ancient history.
During Bernice’s lucid moments, she shared stories of her boys when they were young, happy times the family had when denial was in full swing. “I wonder how Bill is doing,” she said.
Pam looked out to sea, the edge of the horizon betraying the sun as it peeked up, hints of pink and orange streaking the sky.
“We can go on Wednesday to visit,” Pam replied, hating the drive to the jail, but doing it for Bernice. “He was always helpful at the picnic, setting up tables and decorations while Anne took over the kitchen so I could greet guests.”
They were like the poor relations, Pam thought. They lived in the awful brownstone in Greenwich Village, furnished with castoffs from the mansion. She remembered boxing up Brent’s clothes for Anne’s boys, even though they were ten years younger. “I will hold on to it until they fit,” Anne would say, grabbing the box like it contained treasure. Pam felt guilty, so she always took a bag of new things she’d purchased. Later, she’d discovered that the gifts made Anne feel horrible, like she was dependent on handouts from her wealthy in-laws. Oh well, nothing could be done about it now. Anne and Bill were divorced, and Anne lived in New Jersey with her sister. She never returned to visit Bernice.
“I’m beat,” Nelda said, standing up and stretching. “You have a busy day ahead of you, Pam. Better get a few hours if you can.”
They got up and took the wine and snack mess back to the kitchen. Pam leaned in and kissed both women on their cheeks.
“Thank you for an interesting night,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to the rest of the weekend.”
It would turn out to be slightly premature.
She stood, watching as Bernice and Nelda walked back to the children’s wing hand in hand. She would give them space, treat them like adults, not hover over them as they prepared for what little sleep they’d get.
Going back into her own room, she quietly shut the door, going into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Dan was lying on his stomach, nude. Familiarity with his body increased the desire she felt for him, but there was something so vulnerable about him in that position, so trusting. She supposed all men were made of stuff that allowed them to bare it all. Jack wasn’t that way, at least not with her. For being such a sexual pervert, he was really quite a prude around Pam. Dan brought out the devil in her. She’d made the decision to be as free as she was able with him, and that meant initiating sex. But not this morning. She crept to the bed, pulled the sheet up over him, and then carefully got in next to him, on Jack’s side.
Dan rustled, turning over next to Pam, the sheet pulling off his body. As he turned toward her, his flaccid penis falling over his thigh, she thought he looked like a Michelangelo sculpture. He opened his eyes and looked directly at her.
“You up already?” he murmured, talking out of the corner of his mouth so his breath wouldn’t blow in her face.
“Just coming to bed. I was up all night with the ladies,” she said.
“I’ll be right back.” He got out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, looking over his shoulder at her.
She nestled in, smiling. He was up now, and it meant they would have sex. It was inevitable, and as tired as she was, she was not going to refuse. The water running and sounds of teeth brushing in preparation for kissing brought a smile to her face. She reached under the sheet and stuck her thumbs in the elastic of her underpants, pulling them down over her feet. She’d be ready for him. Closing her eyes for a minute, she thought how different Dan was from Jack. Jack rarely spoke during sex unless it was something sexual. She understood now that his conversation had to be scripted because if he said anything intimate, he might slip and use the wrong words or names to the wrong person. The things he said to her he could’ve said to anyone.
But not Dan, who wasn’t afraid of intimacy and called out her name when he came. The bathroom door opened, and Dan quickly got into bed, moving over her. His knee wedged its way between her legs, and she opened up for him to get into his position. Reaching down, he felt her absence of underpants.
“Oh! Am I that easy to read?” he asked smiling.
“No, I was just hopeful,” she replied.
He started to kiss her softly, taking his time, but not too much because he knew she needed to get to sleep soon.
“This will just be maintenance, okay? I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Oh, I like maintenance,” she said. “Maintenance is the best.” She didn’t add, “At my age,” although it was in her thoughts. She didn’t desire the hours-long sexual marathons of her youth. But she couldn’t very well say, “Get in and get out, will you, please?” So not doing anything to prolong it, they both were satisfied, and she had time to catch a few hours of sleep before the day’s activities began. For the time being, Pam had peace.
Chapter 5
Zach and Deborah picked Natalie up before heading uptown. It was easy to do so; their apartment on Washington in Hoboken was just a few blocks from the Holland Tunnel entrance, and her apartment was a few blocks from the exit. She was standing on the front walk with two big suitcases; they were going to be upstate for the entire summer, after all. Zach double-parked and got ou
t to help her get the cases into the trunk, but they wouldn’t fit.
“We can put one of them in the back seat,” he said. They jammed it in sideways, and then Natalie walked around to the other side to get in.
“Hello, Mother,” Deborah said, turning in her seat. “Are you ready for our big adventure?”
“You have no idea how much I’ve looked forward to this,” she said. “But what about leaving Zach behind?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to be lonely?”
“If it’s okay with you, I was going to drive over on the weekends,” Zach said.
“That would be lovely,” she replied. “Don’t you think so?” She tapped Deb on the shoulder next.
“I’d love it if he could stay. His camp is only an hour away from the cabin.”
They drove in silence the rest of the way uptown, pulling up behind a Hummer parked in front of the apartment. Ashton was organizing suitcases in the back of the car.
“Oh, I thought we were going to have a driver,” Natalie said.
Deborah laughed.
“It must be Zach,” she answered.
Ted came out of the building with a duffle bag and a suitcase. Natalie imagined the suitcase contained ironed linens for the beds and other luxurious items. They spent the next minutes getting everyone’s luggage to fit and leave room for the riders.
“So, here we go! I’m so excited I can barely stand myself,” Ashton said.
Natalie laughed, patting him on the back. “Hold it together, dear. I have a feeling the first time you see moths swirling around the light fixtures at night, you’ll be ready to head back to the city the next day.”
“Oh, that sounds awful,” he admitted. “We’ll get bug spray.”
“Wait a minute,” Ted said to Natalie. “You’ve lived in Manhattan all your life. How would you know?”
“I went to sleep-away camp about two hours from where your cabin is every summer for ten years,” Natalie replied. “Trust me, moths I know about. Ew!”
The Tao of Pam: Pam of Babylon Book # 6 Page 7
