"Now then, Miss McCarthy," said Bill, holding up the novel device for his patient to see. "I do apologize for the indignity of this position, but I'm afraid it's absolutely necessary."
"Oh, I understand, Doctor Billingston," replied the patient, whose first name was Evelyn. Like most of Bill's patients, she loved the formal way he addressed her, since hardly any other man she knew did that. Although hardly enough to enable her to forget that she was lying spread-eagled and barebottom before him, she could not help but appreciate the dignity with which he spoke to her even under such circumstances. "It's ever so silly, really, the way we all pretend not to know what one another's body looks like underneath it all anyway, isn't it?"
"Excellent attitude, Miss McCarthy. Wouldn't you say so, Mary?"
"I certainly would," agreed Bill's wife and nurse, standing by the examination table for moral support as she did with all her husband's patients. "Now, Evelyn, this might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but it will be fine once you get used to putting the diaphragm in yourself."
"Indeed," said Bill. "Most of my patients report no problems at all once they've had a bit of practice." Mary handed him the little bottle, unscrewed for the demonstration as usual. "Now, first, Miss McCarthy, you brush a touch of the jelly here onto the rim of the diaphragm, like so, and then you fold it into an oval for insertion." Evelyn nodded and watched attentively as the doctor reached down and gently pushed the contraption into her vagina. She wiggled her legs a bit involuntarily, as Bill's patients often did. Mary, recognizing the reaction, held Evelyn's hand gently. "Push it in until you can feel it against your cervix. Can you feel how it can go no further now?" he asked, looking up.
Evelyn nodded. Bill carefully withdrew his fingers. "That's it?" she asked.
"That's it, Miss McCarthy. Just be sure to leave it in for at least six hours after intercourse."
"And I can't get in the family way with it in there?"
"Not as long as it is fitted correctly, you can't." Bill went to the washbasin to scrub his hands. "If you have any trouble learning how to put it in, or if you'd like any further advice on safe intercourse, you're welcome to join Mrs. Billingston's clinic seminars every Wednesday evening, or by private appointment if you can't make it on Wednesdays."
"And anything I ask you there – it's a secret?" Evelyn asked Mary, who was now helping her remove the diaphragm."
"Completely secret and private," Mary confirmed.
"No men allowed," Bill added. "Not even me."
"Wow," Evelyn mused, admiring her new possession for a moment before Mary took it to clean and put away. "All that noise the old ladies down in the street make about immorality and sin, and it's all because of this little thing?"
"An awful lot of people in this world never learn to mind their own damn business, Miss McCarthy," Bill said, turning away respectfully when he saw she was now putting her dress back on. Once again he chuckled at the idea that, given how high hemlines were these days, his younger patients didn't really need to undress in the first place. "But rest assured, there are plenty of women like you who are ready to take charge of their own lives for a change."
"That does make me feel better," Evelyn said. "My friend – I guess I'm not supposed to tell you her name, but she's a patient of yours, too – she said you told her the same thing. She also said you were the only doctor in Denver that had these thingamabobs," she added, tapping on her diaphragm case just before she slid it discreetly into the bottom of her purse. "She said you even know that lady that went to jail for them – Margaret something?"
"Somebody's got to do it," Bill said with a conciliatory smile. As usual, he neither confirmed nor denied his involvement with Margaret Sanger; he was already controversial enough without anyone knowing of his connections. "In any case, you are definitely not alone, Miss McCarthy. Mary will settle your bill for you," he added. "Bring in the next patient when you're done with her, Mary."
As soon as the two women had exited the examination room, Evelyn turned to Mary with a conspiratorial grin. "Please, Mrs. Billingston, tell me your secret! How on earth did you ever find a fellow like him?"
"Trust me, darling, you do not want to go through what I went through in order to find him," Mary said in her practiced gentle tone, having heard that question hundreds of times before. "But I'm sure there are other enlightened young men out there if you look hard enough. I will let you in on one secret to my success, though: I invited him to join me for dinner. That was what started it all."
"Asking a fellow out?" Evelyn asked. "Well, I never would have considered that. But the world is changing, isn't it?" After a brief pause, she pushed ahead with the queries on the doctor. "He hasn't got a younger brother, has he?"
"Not that I know of."
"Wouldn't you know if he did or not, though, Mrs. Billingston?"
"I'm afraid I wouldn't, darling," Mary said. "We haven't seen his parents in fifteen years. And given what little I knew of them even then, I don't think they had any plans for more children." Dissolving into guilty laughter, she added, "I would even go so far as to say I'm not sure his mother knew how babies were made!"
"And yet he knows more about that than anybody," Evelyn said. "How very queer."
"I long ago stopped trying to understand just how people become who they are," Mary told the younger woman. "There are too many things in my own past that I'll never understand."
"I guess so, Mrs. Billingston, but you sure are a lucky lady now!"
"Thank you, Evelyn. And yes, I certainly am." Mary smiled as she watched Evelyn take her leave, her short dress swishing flirtatiously about her hips and her arms shamelessly bare. Mary told herself once again that she did not envy the fashion among younger women, and up to a point it was true. It would hardly do for a mother of two – or three, if she were to be brutally honest with herself – who was well into her thirties to fancy herself a flapper even if she had the desire to dress like that. No, it was more that even if she were younger, the scars on her wrists would be ever so obvious without long sleeves. For all that she and Bill had done together to make a wonderful life for themselves, those were two scars that – literally and figuratively – would never, ever heal.
Stop that, she reminded herself, forcing a smile as she called the next patient's name. Think of all you and Bill have done to save other young women from the same fate! As usual, that pleasant consideration put her in a more positive frame of mind, and it was back to work.
The late spring sun was still out when Mary and Bill braved their way out the back door of the office building a few hours later. As usual, Officer Buxton was there to keep the protesters at bay. "Evening doctor, missus," he said, linking his arm through Mary's to escort them across the alley to the parking garage. "How's your day?"
"Lovely, thank you, Walter," Mary said, ignoring as usual the screeches of "Whore enabler!" and "Baby killer!" that erupted from the few hardy souls who staked out the back door; most of the protesters kept to the sidewalk, where they could distribute their flyers to passerby. "How's Arlene?"
"Just fine, thanks to you two," Walter said, unlocking the garage door for them. He was one of many grateful husbands on the force – the chief of police was another – who ensured that Bill's practice could continue regardless of the protesters and the blue laws. "Have a great evening!"
"Thank you," Bill and Mary said in unison. Careful as always to never discuss business outside the office – the safety of many of their patients depended upon it – they were silent as Bill unlocked the Pierce Arrow roadster he had purchased shortly after returning from the war, and fired up the engine. Bracing themselves for one last round of invective from the protestors, he drove out onto the street.
As usual, it arrived in full force. The screams and cries of outrage as they roared past the office building into the thick of downtown – away from home rather than towards it, to help ensure the troublemakers would never learn where they lived, for anyone who tried to tail them would always get lost in the traffic if the police didn't stop them first – were almost welcome by now, a reminder that they had achieved another day of the life's work they both loved. Still and all, Mary usually felt the need to comment once they were finally free, and today was no exception. "Heavens, don't any of them have families to attend to?" she asked.
"I tend to doubt they have anything to attend to," Bill replied, "Otherwise they wouldn't be so worked up about matters that are none of their business." As always, Mary was initially amazed at his patience over the matter. And as always she recalled almost instantly that nothing he might see on the sidewalks of Denver could compare to the horrors he had seen as a field doctor in the war, to say nothing of what he had witnessed in the clinics back in New Haven before they had met. He never spoke of either experience; but there was no need to do so.
Bill, of course, had to keep his eyes on the road as they drove past the protesters. Mary had long since learned to focus straight ahead as well and avoid acknowledging them in any way. As a result, neither of them took any notice of the stout older man in the pinstripe suit who was watching the scene in silence from across the street. They didn't notice his tacit disapproval of the abuse they endured, and they didn't see his gaze follow the Pierce Arrow as it roared off down the street.
Maxine, the nanny, had the usual chaos only just under control when Bill and Mary finally arrived at their majestic home just off Washington Park. She had little Anna washed and ready, and was keeping a watchful eye from a safe distance as the girl conducted her afternoon tea party with the Danforth children from next door. Mrs. Danforth was perched on the couch with the children's tutor, Mrs. Fortnier, and the two were deep in yet another of their conversations while Kathleen buzzed about them with tea and snacks. Out in the kitchen, dinner was well underway and Mrs. Morton's usual stern directives had the staff running about like a crazy machine that somehow functioned perfectly. Charlie, at the ripe old age of ten, had long since assured Maxine that he could clean himself up in time for supper, and as usual he had. He was holding court with Annie, the eldest of the Danforth girls, and his best friend Joseph, from across the park. The stately parlor was a veritable cacophony of energetic friendship, and it all came to only a momentary pause when Bill swung open the front door.
"Mummy! Daddy!" Anna leapt and bounded across the room to greet first Bill, then Mary with a kiss and a squeeze. "Come have some tea with us?"
"We certainly will, Anna, in a moment," Mary told her, surveying the room as she removed her coat. She and Bill handed them to Robinson, who as usual had appeared out of nowhere to wait upon them. "Has the gardener been squared away at last, Robinson?" Mary asked.
"We settled the bill this morning," he reassured her. "He'll be by as usual next week."
Bill had just enough time to thank Robinson before Annie Danforth greeted him with an affectionate squeeze of his hand in both of hers. "Doctor Billingston, you'll never guess what!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to have –"
"Annie!" Mrs. Danforth interrupted sternly, jumping up from the couch. "I'm sorry, Doctor, she knows I told her to wait for me to talk to you first."
"Mother, everyone else in the room knows anyway, don't they?" Annie complained.
"Never you mind that, dear," Mrs. Danforth reprimanded her. "Doctor Billingston, I'm expecting again!"
"Well, that's wonderful, Mrs. Danforth!" Bill said. "We ought to have an appointment, then. Mary?" he turned to see Charlie smiling a polite hello to his mother, whom he deigned to allow a kiss on his cheek.
"Oh, of course," Mary said. "And congratulations."
"I am sorry to burst upon you like this the moment you walked in the door," Mrs. Danforth said.
"Nonsense, we love a full house!" Mary reassured her.
"Are you ever going to have another one, Mommy?" Anna piped up from behind Mary.
"Oh, I don't know!" Mary laughed just a bit too loudly as she said it, scooping the girl up in her arms. "The two of you keep us so very busy already!"
"Maybe when you get to San Francisco?" Anna asked.
Bill laughed. "Yes, dear, maybe sometime after that." To Mrs. Danforth he explained, "'When we get to San Francisco' is inside-the-family slang for 'maybe someday,' a thing that might happen someday or might not happen at all. You see..."
"Oh, Mary has told me all about it," Mrs. Danforth said. "How you met on the train to San Francisco and never made it there."
"Precisely," Bill confirmed. "And we've still never been out there. But someday we'll make the trip."
"Would you and the children like to stay for dinner?" Mary asked Mrs. Danforth, preferring to put off the topic of another baby if at all possible.
"Oh, we can't tonight, thank you," Mrs. Danforth said. "I've still got to share the good news with Jack, after all."
"Well, give him our regards," Bill said. In the interim, Mrs. Fortnier had also stood up to take her leave. "How were the kids today?" Bill asked her.
"Quite good," Mrs. Fortnier said. "Charlie does love his reader so."
"I only wish I were more like that at his age," Bill said as Robinson handed Mrs. Fortnier her coat and hat. Silently he added that he wished his own home had been so full of friends and full of life back then; but then, his mother certainly would not have tolerated such things. He did hope Charlie appreciated the wonderful chaos that so often prevailed in their parlor.
Maxine appeared at their side. "Shall I get the children ready for supper?" she asked Bill.
"No need just yet," Kathleen told her. "Begging your pardon, Doctor, but we're running a bit late. Will you and Mrs. Billingston be joining us to do the salad?"
"Wouldn't miss that for the world," Bill said. "We'll be right out." Turning back to Maxine, he congratulated her on another day of managing the madhouse. "Well done as always, I see, as the place hasn't burned down. I will never know how you manage them all so well, Maxine."
"Oh, it's a lovely challenge and you know it is, Doctor Billingston!" Maxine replied with a grin.
"Indeed I do," Bill acknowledged.
Maxine sat down and smoothed out her skirt, and called for Charlie and Anna to come join her for the pre-dinner story. Mrs. Danforth gathered her girls to return home, and Joseph also took his leave despite an invitation to supper. "I'd have to ask Mother, and she's sore at me just now," he confessed. While Robinson showed the guests out and Kathleen busied herself cleaning up the lingering teacups and saucers, Bill and Mary retired to the kitchen to toss the salad.
An on-again, off-again ritual that tried Mrs. Morton's patience, as their presence in her kitchen presented a minor inconvenience, it was nevertheless tolerated because they were such a lovely family to work for. From her perch in the living room as she told the children a favorite story she knew by heart, Maxine could only just see Bill in his vest with his sleeves rolled up and Mary looking tired but resilient in her stocking feet as they worked together on the salad. For the hundredth time at least, she marveled at what a truly lovely couple they were and at her own great luck in working for them.
Though they could afford one of the finest chefs in Denver and no shortage of helpers for her, Bill and Mary clung to their responsibility for the salad as a last vestige of their own salad days. The early years of their marriage had been lean years indeed, and working together on supper had been a bonding experience back when medical school and nursing school had kept them both too broke to hire help and cooking was a welcome respite from studying. It had proven to be an absolute necessity once Charlie was born, with Bill still in his final year of medical school and Mary's nursing practice bringing in scarcely enough money to feed the three of them; and it had remained so when Anna came along four years later, just as Bill's practice was getting off the ground. Then had come the war, and with it Bill's absence for two years. He had returned a hero to the boys in Europe for the services he'd provided, and to the girls in Denver for providing non-judgmental advice and assistance with issues that were still unmentionable beyond his office, and his family had wanted for nothing since then. But making supper together remained a ritual he and Mary treasured together, and Mrs. Morton's helpers had only admiring glances to cast as they stepped around their boss' bosses.
Maxine, as perpetually awestruck by the good doctor as so many of his patients were, always welcomed the sight of Bill and Mary working together in the kitchen – not least because it afforded her the opportunity to do so only from a safe distance. Amidst the small talk from the children while they mostly listened to the story, she stole a glance time and again beyond the dining room table into the corner of the kitchen that was visible, where they worked side by side at the counter, tired but happy. On a hot summer's day, she would sometimes be prevailed upon to take Charlie and Anna outside to play until it was time to eat. But it wasn't nearly warm enough for that this evening, and she did not care to have to get Anna washed up yet again. And so she got to enjoy the sounds and the occasional view of Bill and Mary at work together.
She did not, as a result, chance to view the old man in the pinstripe suit, now seated on a bench across the street in the park. Having no fear of any protesters himself, he had ridden his new secondhand bicycle straight to the address he had managed to wheedle from the clerk in the automobile registration office, and he had arrived in time to greet the sight of Bill and Mary pulling into their private garage.
"Who's that again, Dad?" Charlie asked as they sat down to supper, pointing again at the photograph that had been set atop the china hutch for more than a week. The house seemed almost deathly quiet now that the friends, neighbors and staff were away, but that only enhanced the intimacy Bill and Mary loved so about dinnertime alone with the children.
"It's the same young lady it's been the last four hundred times you asked about her, silly," Bill told him as he set the plate of pork chops, potatoes and greens before him.
"Yeah, but what's her name?" Charlie asked. "I keep forgetting?"
"Her name is Calandra, dear," Mary said. "Calandra Brockway. We knew her as Candy, but she was even younger than your sister then. I don't suppose she still likes being called Candy now." The photograph had shocked both her and Bill upon its arrival weeks before: baby Candy, now twenty years old, was dressed just as scantily as so many of Bill's younger patients, and wore her hair in a stylish bob. The accompanying letter explained that she was a sophomore at Cal, where her older brother had just graduated.
"And you met her parents on the train?" Charlie asked; he never tired of hearing the very sanitized version of the story of how his parents had met. "The train" was always understood to be the train on which Bill and Mary had met.
"Yes, we did," Bill confirmed. "They were going to San Francisco just like I originally was. I helped Candy's father find work out there, and a few years later he was able to find my address here through some mutual friends."
"And you'll get there someday, right, Dad?" Charlie asked, still admiring the vivacious flapper who peered out at him from the sepia print. While he might struggle to recall her name, neither of Charlie's parents had any doubt he had long since memorized the beautiful photograph.
"It would be nice to visit the Brockways after all these years, wouldn't it, Bill?" Mary asked.
"But then what would we say when we were talking about someday?" Bill quipped.
"Well, that is certainly a reason to never make the trip!" Mary rejoined, and they shared a laugh. "You know Ben and Marlene would love to see us, though. She said in her letter, they still long to pay us back properly."
"They owe us nothing," Bill said. "All we did was help a deserving friend."
"You played Santa for them, right Dad?" Charlie piped up.
"No, we just told Santa Claus where to find them," Bill replied, with a stern look at Charlie.
"Right, that's what I meant!" Charlie said hastily, having recognized the warning not to spill the beans for Anna, who still believed.
"Nevertheless, Bill, would you deny them a chance to thank us?" Mary persisted.
"Not at all," Bill said. "It would be lovely to see them, and to finally see San Francisco for that matter. It is only that we're so very busy here all the time."
"Tell me again, Mommy," Anna asked. "Why did you and Daddy get off the train?"
"You know they won't tell you that!" Charlie reminded her. "They never tell us that!"
"We will when you're older, you know that," Mary said, in the firm tone that both her children recognized as a tacit declaration that the subject was closed. "Now, Charlie, how was school today?"
"Perhaps he is old enough to know," Mary suggested to Bill in the privacy of their bedroom, hours later, as she sat on their bed and reached up her skirt to remove her stockings. "We have always said we want to raise our children to understand the way the world really works, after all."
"Perhaps he is," Bill agreed, admiring the view of his wife's legs as he unbuttoned his shirt. "But I still vote for waiting until the first time he comes home talking about somebody's sister who got in trouble or some such. Then it will be a lesson he never forgets."
"Do we really want to shock him like that?" Mary asked; with the stockings off, she stood up and eyed Bill hungrily as he pulled his shirt off.
"Believe you me, Mary, sooner or later he's going to get a shock when it comes to girls," Bill quipped, grinning as he stood shirtless before her.
"Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean!" Mary protested. But she did not push the matter further. Her husband's bare chest and welcoming gaze were just too irresistible in the cozy electric light of their room, and she had far more pleasant thoughts on her mind. Slowly, enticingly, she undid the cuffs on her blouse for the one person on earth with whom she was not ashamed of her scars. With Bill, they weren't scars, but rather badges of a battle they had won together. They were a reminder – an almost pleasant one, as perverse as that seemed – of that unbreakable bond they had forged on the train all those years before, a symbol of the injustice Bill had made it his life's work to change. He had done his part and so very much more so, but he was always quick to remind anyone who commented on the matter that he couldn't have done it all without Mary at his side. Few other women Mary knew could say they and their husbands were a team, on equal footing, even in these fast changing times and in a wonderfully progressive city like Denver. But Mary could.
Once again as she unbuttoned her blouse, it tickled Mary to know that Bill, desensitized as he might be to all the mysteries of the female body, still adored the sight of hers. In light of his reaction to Anna's question that afternoon, it appeared he hadn't an inkling about her own growing suspicion about her body. But now wasn't the time to discuss all that. With a welcoming smile she did away with her blouse, and then pulled the pin out of her fiery red hair to let it fall enticingly about her shoulders. "I love you, Bill," she said, and blossomed forth into his waiting embrace.
"I love you, too, Mary," he whispered, enfolding her in his arms just as eagerly as he had done the very first time, that night on the train somewhere in the wilds of Nebraska. As she clung to him, he rubbed her back gently in a rhythm that led naturally to his unhooking her bra. Mary sighed with appreciation as she felt the garment loosen, and without another word she drew her hands around to his front to return the favor with his belt and pants. She drew back just enough to shrug her bra off, and Bill set about rubbing her breasts just right, as he always did. Fifteen years of marriage and it was still a reward like nothing else, the way he could massage away the remnants of their confinement once they were set free at the end of the day. Their tenderness of the moment notwithstanding, she had no complaints about his ever gentle touch.
Bill kicked off his pants, continuing to caress her breasts as he did, and Mary reached down with both hands and found him hard and ready as always. He moaned with delight as she stroked him gently, longing for him to lift up her skirt and return the favor. Presently he did, and soon had her panties out of the way and his fingers teasing her waiting lips. Mary responded with an "ooooohh" followed by a deep kiss. She knew better than to bother him with any jokes about how much practice he got at such things through his day job; he had never liked such comments – but nothing could stop her from thinking of how lucky she was to have a husband who got so much practice in intimate touching like this!
With her skirt bunched inconveniently up over her waist, Mary pulled it over her head and then lay back on the bed, her fiery hair spilling all over the pillows just as Bill had always loved it. In an instant Bill was lying beside her and back to kissing her right breast and running his fingers through her dark pubic hair. A tentative finger inside confirmed that she was wet; with the ice broken, he reached two fingers inside and rubbed gently, just as she had always loved from their very first time together. "God, Bill!" Mary arched her back and wiggled her knees in intense pleasure as he began rubbing faster. He drew himself up to his knees and switched to her left breast, just in time to bring about her first orgasm, which she expressed loudly as always.
"Thank you," she whispered breathily when it was over. "Now you." She drew up her knees and spread her legs, and felt Bill's first tentative poke before he found his way in. Fifteen years and he could still get a bit nervous at the big moment! But it was all a part of the lovely game, and soon she was enveloping him lovingly as ever.
As usual, neither of them moved at first, preferring to look in one another's eyes and savor the fresh intimacy of the moment. A long, deep kiss and then he set about pushing in and out, slowly and reverently at first, Mary savoring each thrust with an appreciative moan. The pale light from the table lamp beside the bed illuminated a gentle, steady rhythm that they had long since perfected. Any concerns that the children or the servants might hear Mary's cries of joy had long since been set aside, since over two years since Bill's return from Europe had brought no commentary from any of them. Even had there been such complaints, Mary had the confidence borne of having bounced back from the depths of despair back in New York, and she had years ago slammed the door on any inclination to apologize for loving sex. And so as Bill pumped into her again and again, she rewarded him with uninhibited responses that only aroused him further. She threw her arms around him as she came, and the added sensation of her embrace and her breasts pressed tightly up against him were just what Bill needed to send him over the edge as well.
For several quiet minutes they lay entwined together, a jumble of the sort of delight only years of love and friendship could bring. When at last they fell separate on their pillows, Mary broke the silence. "Bill, do you ever think of having a third one, like Anna asked today?"
"Well, no," Bill said. "I wouldn't object if one happened, of course, but I feel perfectly content with what we do have, don't you?"
"Completely," Mary said, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than it did to herself. "I was only wondering, since Anna never asked me that before. I wonder if we'll be hearing more of that, with Elsie expecting now."
"Probably," Bill said. "But so what?"
"Indeed. At least there won't be any awkward questions about how it all happens." Thanks to their parents' jobs, Charlie and Anna had known all about how babies were made since they were old enough to talk.
"Aren't we lucky in that regard!" Bill agreed, reaching over to turn off the lamp.
"Not only in that regard!" Mary said, snuggling up beside him in the dark. Soon they were both fast asleep.
A couple of miles away in a downtown hotel, several rooms had lights still visible from the street. Inside one of them, the older man who had spied Bill and Mary outside their office, and then their home, was seated at the desk in his shirtsleeves. Though unaware of the blissful activity they had just completed at that moment, he was hard at work on writing all he had observed about them from a safe distance.
Whatever trouble she harbors in her past, Mary appears to have blossomed into a wonderful, caring mother and a capable nurse. From my enquiries around town, I have found no evidence that anyone is aware of her past as a fallen woman. What they are aware of is a caring nurse who is willing and able to assist young women through their most vulnerable moments and provide frank, no-nonsense answers on the most intimate of topics. As for Bill, he is among the more controversial citizens of Denver; but from what I have been able to discern, he is most proud of that. Deeply committed to his job and his cause, he has inspired remarkable respect and loyalty among the young women of the city and the men who love them. They both put up with all manner of abuse from the puritanical scolds of their fair city; but they hold their heads high through it all. His mother would be...oh, who am I kidding? His mother would be disgusted and outraged.
They have two children, a boy and a girl. I have witnessed them only from a great, safe distance; but they appear well-fed and well-cared for. I can only hope the near future might allow me a proper introduction to them.
His pen lingered long over that final sentence, recalling the lovely sight of the two children when their nanny had brought them out to play much earlier that day, shortly before he had set off for his vigil outside Bill's office downtown. Tomorrow would be another day, of course, but tonight found him flummoxed as to how it might happen. Capping his pen, he turned to look at the waiting bed. There seemed little chance of getting any sleep now that he had seen Bill and Mary and the children. Perfect time to go out and get good and drunk, if only it were legal anymore. If only he knew where to inquire after a speakeasy; likely as not there was one within a few blocks. Alas, there was no choice but to turn out the light and try to content himself with the promise of a closer look on the morrow.
The next morning once again found a small but dedicated clutch of protesters outside Bill and Mary's office building. He had slept later than planned and then enjoyed an uncharacteristically leisurely breakfast at the hotel, for a certain serenity had at long last overtaken him now that he had seen Bill and Mary. After decades of chasing after the almighty legal tender, he was finding retirement more enjoyable than he had ever dared imagine, and now the hole in his heart that had been growing all these years was in sight of relief as well! To his regret, though, he arrived on the scene too late to see the Pierce Arrow zipping up the street. Arriving on the scene to find half a dozen women reciting Hail Marys, he resolved to act like the dignified adult he was and pay Bill a direct visit rather than loiter on the street.
Avoiding eye-contact with the guards, he strode purposefully up to the door. But just as he was about to take hold of the handle, a guard accosted him. "Pardon me, my good man, but have you got business in this building?"
"I certainly do, if you would excuse me," he replied.
"With whom, sir, and may I see some identification?"
"With Doctor Billingston, and I see no reason why you must know who I am."
"With Doctor Billingston," the guard repeated with a sarcastic grin. "And you won't tell us who you are. Heavens, sir, do you think we were born yesterday?"
"I'll have you know my business is both deeply personal and completely irrelevant to anything you need concern yourself with!" he said, struggling now to keep his temper. So close now, after all these years, and this young man thought he could get in his way!
A second guard approached them now. "Got a new one this week, have we, Lou?" he asked.
"It looks that way," answered the first guard, apparently named Lou. "This gentleman tells me he has an appointment with Doctor Billingston. Does he look to you like the type who would?"
The second guard laughed. "Which church sent you, sir, and didn't they at least tell you Doctor Billingston is a gynecologist?"
"An appointment with him indeed," Lou said. "Sir, I shall have to ask you to step off the premises."
"My good men! I –"
"Sir! You can leave peacefully, or we can have you arrested!" the second guard warned him. Grabbing him by the arm now, he half led, half dragged him down the sidewalk. "Whatever we think of the good doctor and what he does up there, we won't have violence in our city. We certainly won't have you compounding the damage by wreaking heaven knows what sort of havoc in his own office." At the corner he gave him a light shove. "Now, off with you, and next time at least come back with a better story!"
As he stood there in the gutter, gathering his wits and trying to make sense of exactly what had just occurred, an agitated looking young woman stepped around him. She gave him a dirty look as she hopped up on the curb, and then smiled hello to the guard. "Caught another one, did you, Jack?" she asked.
"'Morning, Louise. It would appear we did. This genius said he had an appointment with the doctor, if you can believe that!"
Louise laughed. "It might do those old men some good if they did let Doctor Billingston have a poke at them, wouldn't it?"
He retreated across the street to a café to calm his nerves with some tea and ponder his next option. Mustn't let the cops think he was any sort of troublemaker, and now they might just be on the lookout for him outside Bill and Mary's house. He had to think of something fast...
Back across the street, Jack and Lou ushered Louise past the cries of abuse and harassment from the ladies on the sidewalk and into the building. "Thanks, fellas," she said just before they shut the door behind her. As they turned back to face more cries of outrage, they once again put on their poker faces and did their best to ignore it all. Due to the scuffle with first the old man and then Louise, neither of them had taken any notice of the second older man who now stood a few yards off, holding up a newspaper but not reading it. Had they paid him any mind, they surely would have noticed that he hadn't turned the page in several minutes, or that he darted his eyes their way every time their attention was turned elsewhere. Having seen the other man's miserably failed effort at getting into the building, he gave up on his own plan to simply claim to have business with some other tenant. Having seen that Louise was headed exactly where he had feared, he resolved to find a second way into the building, and soon.
Two heads are better than one, he concluded, and folding his paper, he watched as the disgruntled old man took a seat at the café across the street. "Buddy, you've just made a new best friend," he muttered underneath his breath.
Mary was just seeing Bill's second patient of the morning off when Louise appeared in the waiting room doorway. She knew just what the younger woman's presence meant, but as always, she remembered to smile and act professional. "Louise! What a pleasant surprise," she lied, for such a visit was never pleasant nor, regrettably, a surprise. "Care for some tea?"
"I'd love some, thanks." Louise knew the drill, and she remembered to look happy as well until Mary had shut the door to the storage room behind them both.
"What's her name?" Mary asked matter-of-factly, pulling out the notepad she kept hidden behind the filing cabinet.
"Lorene Baker, ma'am," Louise answered. "The poor dear is only eighteen, too. Can you even imagine, Mary?"
"Yes, Louise, I can." Mary gave her a gentle but firm look, and there was no further commentary from Louise. "How many months?"
"Two, she thinks."
"She thinks?" Mary repeated.
"That's what she told me," Louise confirmed. "She said she's been late plenty of times before and she thought this was just another one of those."
"It is perfectly normal to be irregular when you're that age," Mary acknowledged. "The poor thing was probably in denial, too." Mary recalled that feeling all too well, even now, and she struggled to keep her composure. It happened every time Louise came calling. "I take it her parents don't know?"
"Heavens, no!" Louise exclaimed. "They're Catholic and, well, you know."
"I certainly do," Mary said. "I take it she is at school today?"
"I've arranged to meet her after school," Louise said. "She had me over for dinner last week, so her parents think I'm a school chum and we're just going for a matinee today."
"Perfect," Mary said. "Now, I think we can carve out just enough time at three o'clock. Can you have her here at a quarter till, at the back door?"
"I know the process, Mary."
"Very good, then. Now, I hate to have to ask you, but we are absolutely swamped out front this morning. Would you be so good as to prepare the room?" Without waiting for an answer, Mary pulled away the bookshelf that hid the door to what all concerned always called "the room," one of many precautions Bill and Mary took to ensure no one knew of its existence who did not absolutely need to know. With no knob on the outside so as to prevent any disturbances should anyone get past the guards downstairs, the door looked like a panel in the wall. Mary pushed on the "panel" and the door swung open. "You know how dusty it gets when we're lucky enough not to need it for some time," she said.
"Indeed," Louise agreed. Stepping inside, she said, "Ten minutes?"
"That should do," Mary said. As soon as Louise was safely inside and the door shut, Mary slid the bookshelf back into place and returned to her post in the waiting room.
Across the street, the man with the newspaper tipped his hat at the older gentleman and helped himself to a seat at his table. "Good morning, sir," he said without awaiting an invitation. "My name is Frank, and I think you and I may have a common enemy over there."
"I'm Harry," said the older man, setting down his teacup and giving his new friend the once-over. "And I certainly do seem to have a couple of enemies in that place."
"Indeed," Frank said. "I should like a word with Doctor Billingston about keeping his damn hands off other people's daughters and out of our private business." Harry looked at him with surprise and was about to object, but something told him to keep his mouth shut and learn more about what Frank was up to. "You hear about these goings-on and you hate it, but it's none of your concern, and then one day it's your daughter."
Harry recalled the young woman he'd seen on the corner – Louise, was it? "That young woman who just went inside is your daughter, is she?" he asked, feigning outrage as best he could.
"Louise? No!" Frank scoffed. "She was introduced to me last week as a friend of my daughter's. But a mean hears rumors, even in a city this big, and I did a little asking around in the right dark corners. It turns out she's a sort of minion of the doctor and his missus. When there's a girl in trouble who wants his help, Louise is the one who arranges the meeting. And my daughter, Lorene..." at this Frank paused and pulled out his handkerchief to stifle a sob of rage. "We are a good, clean, God-fearing family!" he snapped disgustedly. "I don't know what my daughter did or who the evil young man was, but it seems the damage has been done, and that man is going to compound the tragedy this afternoon if I don't stop him!"
"I'm...I'm sorry," Harry stammered. Though he felt no sympathy at all, a plan was growing rapidly in his mind. "I take it you'd rather send your daughter away for a vacation, is that it?"
"My brother has a ranch down in Texas. No one would ever need to know what the little slut did."
"What's she had to say about that option?" Harry couldn't help asking; he'd had fifteen years to think about such things in a vain attempt to ease the pain from his own loss.
"She doesn't know I know," Frank said. "Neither does her mother. The news nearly destroyed her, I'll tell you what. This would only make it all the worse. That's why I'm going to get in there this afternoon one way or another and put a stop to it, and with any luck to Doctor Billingston once and for all!"
"If she doesn't know you know," Harry asked, struggling to keep up, "How do you know she has an appointment this afternoon?"
"She told her mother and me she was going to the pictures with that Louise bitch this afternoon," he said. "Now that Louise has been here, I have no doubt where the two of them are really going to be. But obviously we can't get in the front door – forgive me, sir, for witnessing your humiliation, but it was at least very informative for me. If you don't mind my asking, what was your business with Doctor Billingston?"
"Oh, you know," Harry stammered, not daring to tell the truth. "Like you, a friend of the family, bringing shame upon everyone they know. I merely wanted to let the good doctor know of the damage he's done...you know..."
"Fancy doing a bit more than that?" Frank asked.
"How do you intend to do that?"
"A little bird told me, when they bring girls in for...for what that bastard will be doing to my little girl, they bring them in the back door. They have a guard to make sure the girls can get inside safely. But when they're not expecting anyone to be coming or going, the back door is unguarded. It's locked, but not guarded. Now, if we can look inconspicuous there in the alley, perhaps if we look like rag-men..."
"Then 'tis but a bit of picking," Harry said, recalling his own exploits to that end decades ago in the back streets of Wheeling. "I'm in!"
"Wonderful," Frank said. "I know where I can get us some suitably raggedy clothes for a disguise." He stood up and shook Harry's hand. "Meet me here at two o'clock or so?"
"Indeed, sir." And Frank was off, leaving Harry to ponder just what he might do once they were in the building. Best to play it by ear, he supposed.
With little else to attend to, Harry ordered another pot of tea and settled in for a long morning of people-watching. Having no further need to dwell on getting into Bill's building just now, he gave little additional thought to keeping an eye out for him. And so he nearly failed to notice at all when the Pierce Arrow came roaring around the corner and down the street an hour later. He looked up just in time to see Mary looking away from the ladies across the street, who were once again hurling their invective at them both. Before he had even realized who it was, Harry realized he and Mary had looked one another in the eye for just an instant.
"I certainly hope Molly's has our favorite booth free for lunch," Bill said as he gunned the car down the street. "What an absolutely mad morning, huh?"
Thanks to Bill's small talk, Mary realized he had not heard her gasp at what, or rather whom, she believed she had just seen. Collecting her bearings about her, she turned to her husband. "Sorry, Bill, what was that?" she asked.
"Only that I hope Molly's isn't too crowded for lunch," he replied. Thank heavens, Mary thought, he has no idea! But was there anything to concern herself about? She had had but two looks at the man, so very long ago and under such uncomfortable circumstances...silly to believe she would recognize him now, really.
And yet, what if it was him?
One benefit to a visit from Louise was that Mary and Bill were extra careful to avoid any discussion of work while in public on the day of the procedure. And so Mary had no trouble steering the conversation in the direction she wished once they were settled in Bill's favorite booth at Molly's. (It had been occupied, but Molly, a grateful patient of Bill's, had seen to it that the other party was relocated to a nice alternative location.) "Say, Bill," she said gingerly as they sipped their drinks, "I've been thinking of a vacation this summer. It's been so very long since we've had one."
"Lovely idea," Bill agreed. Then, with a grin, he added, "I suppose Charlie and Anna have been pestering you about San Francisco again."
"Well, we could do that," Mary agreed. "Heaven knows how much Charlie would love to meet Candy! But I've been thinking...maybe Chicago or New York. Or both, even."
"Mary!" Bill looked aghast, as if she had made a horribly inappropriate joke. "We've worked so hard to put all that behind us!"
"What would the harm be now?" Mary insisted. "It's not as though I'm going to set foot in Manhattan and have people leaning out their windows to call me a slut after all these years!"
"What if we stumbled upon your family, Mary?"
"What if we did? Then I could show them how well I've overcome all the abuse they heaped on me. Besides, maybe, after all these years, they'd be ready to make amends. I think I could forgive them."
"Is that it?" Bill asked. "You want to see your family again?" He looked more sympathetic now, though clearly he did not relish the idea in the least.
"Well, don't you ever wonder about yours?" Mary asked.
"Of course I do," Bill said. "But what could I say to them by now? For that matter, what would my mother have to say to you? Whatever she'd say, I'll bet you couldn't print it in papers!"
"Well, undoubtedly," Mary conceded. "But your father? You always said he wasn't half as bad as she was."
"He wasn't," Bill agreed. "But he also lied to me all my life about who he really was, and he brought me up to hate people whose only crime was that they were too much like he used to be. I guess I've forgiven him, Mary, but what is there to say at this late date. Come to think of it, Mary, we don't even know if he's still alive, for heaven's sake!"
"But wouldn't it be nice to know for sure?" Mary asked.
"I doubt it," Bill said. "I don't even know where I'd begin."
The waiter arrived with their sandwiches before Mary could think of anything to add, and so the topic was dropped most unsatisfactorily. If her suspicions were correct, Mary likely would not be in a condition to travel over the summer anyway. But all she had really wanted was a sense of whether she ought to tell Bill of whom she believed she had seen. The answer was not what she had hoped for, but she did have an answer in any event.
Mary couldn't resist a long look at the café as they drove past it on the way back to work. Harry had anticipated as much, so he was nowhere to be seen when she gazed up and down the block in search of the barely-familiar face. Instead he was in his hotel room, enjoying a long soak in the bathtub as he pondered his next move. Though refreshed and revived when he made his way downstairs shortly thereafter, he had made no progress in his plans for what to do once he was in the building. There were just too many ambiguities to make any firm plans.
One goal he did have was to disguise his contempt for his new "friend" Frank. This he did successfully with a smile and a handshake as they met near the door to the café. "I've got out costumes," Frank told him, pulling a paper-wrapped parcel from under his arm. "Have you got someplace to change clothes?"
"For me, I do," Harry said; he was not having Frank up to his hotel room.
"Very good, then, I'll change in my car," Frank said. "I'm parked in the garage behind the doctor's building. Let's meet there in ten minutes?"
"Okay," Harry agreed. With a cordial nod he was back off upstairs, where he soon discovered his partner in crime was no master of disguise. His costume was simply a newly purchased sweater and pair of pants, each slit with dozens of clean, fresh cuts in their fabric that had probably been made by a razor in Frank's car that very hour. But Harry supposed he would look convincingly like a ragpicker from a distance, in any case. He put the mutilated clothes on and, not caring to be seen by the hotel staff if possible, made his way downstairs and out the backdoor. He took the alley down to the far cross-street, hoping to stay out of sight of Bill's guards, and ran up the block and across the avenue as quickly as he could. He had little trouble in that endeavor, for passerby all steered clear of him at first sight.
He found Frank in the garage, looking askance at Bill and Mary's Pierce Arrow. "That's the bastard's car," he said. "If only I had a bomb."
Harry had had enough. "Now, see here, Frank! The man is a human being, whatever you think of his work, and –"
"And he's going to let my daughter off scot free for being a little slut!" Frank hissed. "He belongs in hell, the sooner the better. But you're right, we shouldn't sabotage his car. That might harm his wife, too, and surely all this isn't her fault, is it? I do wonder if she knew just what that man was when she married him, though."
She knew all right, Harry thought with considerable pride which he forced to tamp down for the moment. "Two o'clock", he said when a church bell chimed twice a few blocks off. "I guess it's now or never, friend."
"Let's do it," Frank agreed. As they crossed the alley, he admitted in a whisper, "I've never picked a lock."
"I have," Harry reassured him. "Some of us dignified old men had a misspent youth of their own, you know." He had scared up a couple of suitable picks from the various scraps in the custodian's closet he'd visited on the sly at the hotel, and with Frank pretending to sift through the rubbish bins next to the door, he soon had them inside. They found the basement deserted, and settled down to wait for Louise and the guards to put in an appearance.
Upstairs, Mary went to inspect the room just as soon as Bill had a few minutes to spare with a patient who didn't require her presence. Louise had done a great job as always, and the table, stand and tools were spotless as always. It would make things ever so much easier if she could at least leave the bookcase pushed aside in waiting for the patient's arrival. But she and Bill both knew it was absolutely essential that no one else even knew of the room's existence, much less actually see inside it. As one concession, Mary left the electric light on, so at least the poor girl wouldn't find herself being led into a dark room on top of everything else.
She arrived back in the exam room just in time to see Bill's latest patient, Polly, pulling her dress back on. "I believe Mary has told you about her workshops if you're interested," he was asking her.
"Oh, yes!" Polly said. "I'm definitely going to keep that in mind. I just want to see, well, if I have any questions first. It's just, you know...I don't really know anything about how all this works, is all."
"You know more than I do, Polly, you're the one who's been a woman all these years, after all," Bill said. "All I did was teach you a bit about how it all works."
"Thank you, doctor!" Turning to Mary, she nodded. "Ma'am," she said a bit shyly.
"Jane will settle your bill at the desk," Mary said. "We'll see you next time."
"Is the room set?" Bill asked as he set about washing his hands.
"Everything but the patient," Mary said.
"What do we know about her?"
"Only her name and age."
"You know the rules," Bill said. "Don't tell me."
"Of course." Due to the unpleasant task ahead, Mary had nearly forgotten about the sighting in the street, and was able to keep it at the back of her mind for now.
Once his hands were dry, Bill was off to the room. Mary waited behind for a few moments, in keeping with their established protocol to avoid arousing the suspicions of any of their patients. The next patient, Mrs. Chase, was there only for a routine pregnancy checkup and would no doubt welcome the opportunity to relax in the exam room for a few more minutes anyway.
Mary had just enough time to settle Mrs. Chase gratefully on the couch they kept in the exam room for just such a situation when she heard the office door creak outside. She emerged into the mercifully empty waiting room just in time to see Louise ushering a frightened looking young woman in a school uniform into the office. Remembering to smile through the unpleasantness, Mary bade them welcome. "Hello, Louise. Lorene? Welcome."
"Th..thank you, ma'am," Lorene said. The poor dear looked deathly pale. Mary wished she could give her a hug, but that just might make her even more uncomfortable.
"My name is Mary, and I can be with you while you're with the doctor if you'd like. Or Louise can join you. Either way, I want you to know you're in good hands. The doctor knows what he's doing, and you'll be perfectly safe."
"Thanks," Lorene said, barely above a whisper. "I think I'd like –"
She was interrupted by a clatter in the hallway. "Get your goddam hands off me! We're running out of time!" came a male voice. Upon hearing it, Lorene clasped her hand over her mouth and looked even more terrified.
"Have you no idea what you're going to do to your daughter?" demanded another man.
Putting two and two together, Louise rushed the girl into the storage room and slammed the door just in time to miss seeing the waiting room door burst open. Frank attempted to throw himself inside, but Harry was holding him back. Both were pocked with bruises and scratches enough to make their costumes look almost authentic.
Mary tried to take control of the situation, and in the heat of the moment she failed to recognize the man she had spotted earlier at the café. "Gentlemen! This will not do. What on earth is the matter?!"
Bill, alerted to the crisis by Louise, burst out of the storage room, slamming its door behind him. "What in God's name is going on?" he demanded, joining Mary at the door to block the invaders. Realizing that they were fighting one another rather than Mary, he inserted himself between them and pushed them apart. "Now, tell me," he demanded, looking first at Frank, then turning to Harry. "What exactly is..." his voice trailed away as he took in Harry's face and realized who he was. "Father?!" He gasped in disbelief and looked to Mary for confirmation; by now she had realized her earlier suspicion was correct.
"Bill, see here," Harry began.
"Father?!" Frank repeated. "You're his father?"
"I am, and you're trespassing," Harry shot back.
At that moment, Harry's old friend Lou appeared on the stairs, winded from rushing up at the sound of the commotion. "Dreadful sorry, Doctor," he said. "These two no-good shlubs were hiding in the basement, I think."
"Officer, he's butchering my daughter!" Frank shrieked as Lou threw him up against the wall and cuffed him.
"Sure he is, buddy. Tell the judge all about it." With that he turned his attention to Harry. "You again!"
"It's okay, Lou, this one can stay," Bill said. "He's my father."
"He is?!" Lou looked incredulously at Harry. "Why in God's name didn't you just tell me that this morning?"
"It's an awfully long story, Lou," Mary said. "We're sorry for the confusion."
"I guess I'm the one who ought to be apologizing," Lou said. "I chased him off this morning. But he wouldn't tell me who he was."
"We understand," said Bill, though he wasn't at all sure of that. "Just please be sure to keep that one away from my patients," he said, pointing at Frank.
"We'll give him a night in jail to think about it, I think," Lou said, leading him off down the hall to the stairwell.
The crisis being over, Bill ushered his father into the waiting room and shut the door. Father and son stood gazing silently at one another for what seemed a long time, but was probably only a few minutes. Mary groped in vain for something to say, and found herself hanging uncertainly onto Bill's arm. "I really ought to explain," Harry said at last.
"Indeed you ought," Bill agreed. "But I have a patient to attend to first. Mary, we'll probably need your help in calming the poor girl down, too."
"Of course," Mary agreed. "We'll be back shortly, Mr. Billingston."
"That's 'Mr. Johnson,' Mary," Harry corrected her. "But I'd be most honored if you'd call me 'Father'."
"We'll discuss that later," Mary said, managing a polite smile as she followed Bill into the storage room.
Inside, they found Louise trying in vain to soothe Lorene, who was sobbing uncontrollably. "He knows! They know! I'm ruined!"
Bill stood back, inside the door, while Mary stooped down to look at Lorene. "If you don't want to go through with it, that's up to you, Lorene," she said, realizing a moment too late that she had slipped up and used the poor girl's name in Bill's presence.
"It's not that! I don't want a baby! I don't want to be pregnant! But my parents were never supposed to know! Now what can I do? They can hold him overnight, but when he gets home he'll murder me. I just know it!"
Mary looked over her head at Louise. "If you need a new place to stay, we know a safe-house for girls who've been in trouble. Louise can take you there. You can finish school, and you won't have to see your parents again until you feel safe with them."
"Then what?" Lorene wailed.
"Then you might find your parents more forgiving than you think. We've seen it happen many times. But if not, you will have your diploma. There's work available for educated women these days, you know. And didn't you want out of your father's house anyway?"
Lorene got herself under control at last. "That's true, I did. Now more than ever. And there's room for me at this house?"
"There always is," Louise said. "Doctor and Mrs. Billingston make sure of that."
"Louise, you aren't supposed to share that information," Mary admonished.
"Sorry!" Louise exclaimed.
"It's all right, Mrs. Billingston," Lorene said. "I won't tell. I promise."
Mary allowed her stern face to dissolve into a mild laugh. "Thank you, Lorene. Now, it is up to you; do you still want to terminate?"
"Yes," Lorene said. "I won't bring any baby into a world where it'll have to live with my parents, for starters."
"Right, then," Mary said, standing up. "Louise? Let's prepare her."
"I'll go check on Mrs. Chase while you're doing that," Bill said. On leaving the storage room, he found his next patient and her mother seated in the waiting room. Relieved that he wouldn't have to be alone with his father for the moment, he nodded and smiled at them. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said. "I'm sorry we were occupied just now."
"Oh, that's fine, doctor," one or the other of them said as he retreated into the examination room. He had managed to avoid eye contact with Harry altogether.
He went through the motions with Mrs. Chase, who was healthy and cheerful as always, and then saw her out and bade Lucinda and her mother enter the examination room with a promise that he'd be with them shortly. He then had to file Mrs. Chase's paperwork after she left the office, leaving him alone with Harry. At long last he could no longer postpone acknowledging the older man's presence. "We'll be with you as soon as possible," he said, his hand on the storage room door.
"I'll wait," Harry said. "I've been waiting fifteen years, after all."
"Indeed," Bill admitted.
With Louise and Mary flanking the still-nervous patient, the procedure was routine and no more uncomfortable than it ever was. As always, Bill offered a few encouraging words to avoid looking aloof, but left most of the talking to Mary and Louise. "Now, you can rest here as long as you like," he told her once it was done. "Then I take it Louise will be taking care of you?"
"For the moment, at least," Louise said.
"Okay, then. You're welcome back any time if you have any more concerns, okay?"
"Thank you doctor," Lorene said, barely above a whisper.
Bill was fortunate enough to be too busy with his last few patients for any further confrontation with his father before the office closed. But at last, there was no more postponing the inevitable. The old man still sat there like a rock just inside the office door. Without a word of greeting, Bill and Mary sat together on the bench facing him. Having had a few hours to put the pieces together, Bill turned to Mary. "I take it you knew," he said. "That's why you brought up something so much like this at lunch, isn't it?"
"I didn't know for sure," Mary said. "I thought I had seen him in the street, is all, and I thought I ought to sound you out on the matter."
"She's right, son," Harry said. "We did see each other, just for a moment, when you were off on your lunch hour today."
"Yes, and just how long have you been spying on us, anyway?" Bill snapped.
"Only a couple of days, Bill," Harry insisted. "I mean, I've got business contacts in Denver and I've been aware for years that you had stayed here and become a doctor – and a successful one, from all I'd heard! I'm very proud of you, son. But I always assumed you did not want to be found, and honestly, I couldn't blame you." Looking to Mary then, he added, "Either of you. Mary, I especially owe you an apology for my attitude the last time we met."
"Strictly speaking, we didn't meet, Mr. Billingston," Mary reminded him, disregarding his earlier correction.
"I haven't been known as 'Mr. Billingston' in years," Harry said. "Not except in a business setting, at least, and I'm retired now. My name is Harry Johnson, and I am no longer ashamed of that."
"I suppose I should at least ask, just what became of 'Mr. Billingston,'" Bill said.
"I was hoping you would ask. Bill, I don't blame you for getting off the train, honestly I don't. But losing you destroyed your mother, Bill. She was much too obsessed with keeping up appearances to ever show it, of course, and so she remained by my side when we got to California. But our marriage was over. She never could forgive me for failing to persuade you to 'stick to your own kind', as she always put it – mind you, I do not condone her attitude in the least, not anymore anyway, but you know that is how she saw it. Well, I had a job to do in San Francisco, and that kept me from going insane with grief over what had happened. But she had no such comforts to shield her, and after just a few months she packed her bags and returned to Chicago.
"I followed a year or so later, once I had operations in San Francisco all set to manage without my being there. But your mother never allowed me back in her bed, or even in her wing of the house. Ultimately I moved out on my own, though she never would give me a divorce. Her final way of punishing me, I suppose. She passed on two years ago, Bill, in the flu epidemic. I'm sorry to have to tell you that. She cut me out of her will, of course, and left everything in a trust for you in the event that you were ever found. I'm surprised her lawyer never tracked you down."
"I rather doubt he looked all that hard," Bill remarked dryly, recalling all too well how much like her all his mother's associates were."
"You are probably correct about that," Harry admitted. "Be that as it may, though, it's all yours for the taking if you care to get in touch with Chicago." On that note, he took a deep breath and turned to Mary. Reaching gingerly for her hand, he showed no irritation when she pulled back from him. "Right, I deserve that," he conceded. "Mary, I'm sorry. I was an awful, puritanical snob to you, and I now see you'd have been a wonderful addition to the family – just what we needed, really. I offer no excuses for my wife and her terrible demeanor towards you both, and I can only hope you believe I have learned from the mistakes I made back then."
Bill did not look convinced. But Mary, even to her own surprise, was. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson," she said, now touching his hand as she had not let him do. As she did so, the sleeve of her dress rode up to reveal the ever-mangled skin of her wrist. She made to pull the sleeve back down with her other hand, but that only drew Harry's attention to the scar, of which he had never been aware.
"Oh dear," Harry said.
"Father, that's –" Bill began.
"I know what it is," Harry interrupted, and with that he slid off the chair to his knees and burst into tears. "Mary, I am ever so sorry, and so proud of you both for helping that girl and others like her!" He wrapped his arms around Mary, and she thanked him and returned the hug.
Bill watched the touching scene with stoicism he usually reserved for the secret room. "I guess I owe you thanks for keeping her father at bay today," he admitted.
"Least I could do, Bill," Harry sobbed. "The very least."
Bill looked at Mary for silent guidance, and saw only conciliation in her eyes as she held Harry. "Father," he finally asked, "Have you got a clean change of clothes wherever you're staying?"
"Of course," Harry allowed.
"Let's go get you changed out of those rags, then," Bill directed. "I won't have you meeting your grandchildren dressed like that."
Bill and Mary didn't need to discuss whether to bring Harry in through the back door; neither of them cared to explain the situation to the multitudes who were surely waiting in the parlor as usual. Kathleen met them at the kitchen door, where Mary advised her that there would be a guest for dinner (this drew a scowl from Mrs. Morton, but neither she nor her staff complained) and then directed Robinson to have the parlor cleared of guests. After a few awkward moments, Robinson appeared to usher the family in. They found Charlie and Anna flanking Maxine on the couch, looking as if they feared they might be in trouble. "H...hi, Dad, Mom," Charlie stammered.
"Do you need me to leave, Doctor?" Maxine asked.
"No, it's just as well that you hear," Bill said. "Charlie, Anna, come meet your grandfather."
Harry, his hair freshly washed and combed to match his newly pressed suit, squatted down and smiled at the kids. "Hello there," he said with a nervous smile.
"Our grandfather?" Anna asked. "You told us we didn't have any grandparents!"
"That's what you've always said!" Charlie agreed.
"Even your old man makes mistakes, kids," Bill said. "You'll understand when..."
"When we get to San Francisco," Mary finished.
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"Never mind," Bill said. "Kids, she's right, we'll tell you everything one day. For now, though, meet Grandpa Billingston."
Maxine stood up. "Sir, perhaps you'd like to have a seat?"
"If Charlie and Anna don't mind," Harry said.
"Of course they don't," Mary said. "Right, kids?"
"Right," Anna said, knowing her mother wasn't to be contradicted at the moment. "Come sit down, Grandpa."
"Why, thank you, Anna," Harry said. He took his place between the children, neither of whom made to touch him just yet. "I certainly am pleased to meet you both," he said. "I should tell you, I've known about you all your lives."
"Then why didn't you ever come here?" Charlie demanded.
"Charlie!" Mary reprimanded him.
"No, that's quite all right, Mary," Harry said. "In fact, it's a very good question. You see, Charlie, as old as I am, I had some growing up to do."
"Okay," Charlie said, after a glance at his mother confirmed it was safe to speak again. "Mom tells me that all the time, too." After they had all had a laugh, Charlie continued, "Were you on the train?"
"What train?" Harry asked.
"The one we met on," Bill told him. "And yes, Charlie, he was. He went all the way to San Francisco, though."
"Oh, that's why we never saw you, then!" Anna piped up.
"Exactly," Mary said.
"Well, that's okay," Anna said, and at last she snuggled up against Harry. "We are always asking Mommy and Daddy when we're going to finish that trip!"
"Well now, I don't know if they have any need to do that anymore," Harry said.
"Quite right, Father," Mary said. "No need anymore."
Harry returned Anna's embrace, and gave Mary a look of immense gratitude.
After the children were off to bed that night, Bill and Mary sat up quite late with Harry and a bottle of contraband wine ("The cops owe me a lot of favors, or at least their wives do," Bill explained to his surprised father as he poured him a glass), learning all about what Harry had been up to since their parting of the ways. San Francisco had indeed made him even richer, the war still more so, but he had given most of it to charity. "The both of you made me realize there is so much more important than money," he explained, "Not to mention so many in need out there." On that note, he went on to tell them much that even Bill had never known of his impoverished youth in West Virginia. "Dreadfully sorry your mother spilled the beans on all that the way she did, Bill," Harry said. "You had a right to know the truth all along, I see that now."
"I wouldn't have wanted to cross her either if I had to share a bed with her," Bill confessed with a wry grin. Mary looked aghast at him but privately agreed.
"Deep down, Bill, I know there was a spark of good in her," Harry said. "I just know it. After all, she was ever so distraught when you left."
"Are you sure of that, Father?" Bill asked. "Or was she only distraught because I married a woman she didn't approve of?"
Harry took a long drink of wine, and looked back and forth at Bill and Mary. At last he admitted, "No, son, I'm not sure. Not sure at all. I guess I just need to believe the woman I loved wasn't completely heartless. But maybe she was."
When at last they had retired to bed, Bill and Mary were in no mood for play. After undressing in a contented silence, Mary settled in Bill's arms for the night. "Do you really believe your mother was so soulless?" she asked him.
"Entirely possible," Bill said.
"Then how on earth did you learn to be the man you are?"
"Never underestimate the power of a bad example."
Mary dissolved into contented laughter, and soon they both drifted off to sleep.
The next day was Saturday. After a leisurely breakfast in the morning, Bill proposed that Maxine take the children and their grandfather out for a day of sightseeing and to get to know one another. "You've got a lot of catching up to do, after all, Father," he said.
"Are you sure they'll be comfortable with that, Son?" Harry asked.
"No," Bill admitted. "But that's just why you ought to do it. You've got to start somewhere."
"There's plenty of Denver to see, Mr. Billingston," Maxine said encouragingly.
"That's Mr. Johnson, Maxine," Mary corrected.
"Oh?" Turning to Bill, she asked, "Then how did you become Dr. Billingston?"
"I'll tell you all about it in the car, my dear," Harry told her.
"Will you tell us about the train to San Francisco?" Charlie asked.
"I think we'd better leave that up to your parents," Harry said, and a glance at Bill and Mary showed they concurred. "But I'd love to tell you some stories about your father when he was a boy."
"Good thing I won't have to listen to that, isn't it?" Bill quipped.
As soon as they were out the door, Bill turned to Mary. "So, shall we have a day on the town as well?" he asked.
Mary answered only with a sly grin that he knew well, and which only ever meant one thing. She took both his hands in hers and drew him towards the stairs.
"Well, I have to admit I wasn't expecting this," Bill said as Mary shut the bedroom door behind them. "With everything that's happened, I figured –"
"Quiet, you," Mary commanded him, and she placed his hands on her breasts. "How often do we have a day to ourselves like this? We shouldn't waste it talking!"
Bill lost no time in fondling her breasts gently, and leaning in for a long kiss. Still surprised at the turn of events, he made no move to undress Mary, and soon found most of his own clothes off before he even thought to unbutton her dress. "Lovely idea," he finally said as he was pushing it down over her hips. "Just when was the last time we made love by daylight? We ought to do it more often, so lovely to see your body in all its glory."
"As I said, there's so rarely any time for that!" Mary reminded him as she pushed her panties down after her dress. "Now," she said, drawing her own hands up to her breasts, "If you want so much to look at my body, for heaven's sake help me off with this! It's horribly tight today."
"Tight?" he said. "I know you get bigger on your period, dear, but that's not for..." he paused to do the math. "Wait a moment, just how long has it been?"
"Seven weeks, dear."
Bill stepped back, agape. "You mean...so when Anna asked the other night..."
"Quite a coincidence," Mary admitted. "But that's all it was. I haven't told anyone. I wasn't sure myself, and to tell you the truth I'm still not, completely. But it looks that way."
"Are you sure you're up to this, then?" Bill asked. "You're not sick or anything?"
"Then I wouldn't have given you that look downstairs, now would I?" Mary asked. With that she reached back and unfastened her bra herself. "I'm sorry, Bill, but this really is getting quite uncomfortable." Without a care she tossed the garment aside and took Bill in her arms. "I think the news definitely calls for some celebration," she said.
"Indeed," Bill agreed.
