Unbroken bonds, p.31
Unbroken Bonds, page 31
Their elation quickly deflated when they came home and learned Hope had refused to sleep at Mark’s sister’s house. Instead, she invited her boyfriend over to Joanna’s and the two of them essentially played house while they were away.
Jane had finally threatened to call Joanna and Hope had begrudgingly followed the curfew while still taking off with her boyfriend during the day. This proved to be the first of many of Hope’s defiant acts. She skipped classes her sophomore year and ignored Joanna’s groundings. Frightened Hope was sexually active, Joanna took her to a clinic for birth control pills.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Mark finally suggested.
“No, she’d only consider that fuel for the fire. She’s failin’ three classes. She’s hateful to anyone who loves her. Allie left here in tears this afternoon.”
“I know, she told me. I came over to see what’s going on,” Mark explained. Allie was a good student, stayed active in the school clubs, and considered holding hands with a boy a big deal: the total opposite of Hope.
“Hope’s out of control. She won’t listen to me. She’s as stubborn and bull-headed as I was at her age. Payback’s hell!”
Chapter 48
Mary hit several bumps while planning her dress shop. Her house in the suburbs sold fast, forcing her and the children to move while the renovations were incomplete. She pressured the contractor to finish the kitchen and living room the week before the move.
As their belongings were being carried in, the plumber put the finishing touches on the functional bathroom they’d all share. Plastic hung in the doorways to control the construction dust, while hammers and table saws drowned out attempts at conversation, leaving them tense. Peace descended at night when the workers finally went home.
Mary set the children’s dinners on the bar area of the kitchen. Seated on tall stools, they ate and shared their experiences of the day.
“I don’t like the nuns as much as my teachers at my old school,” Luke complained.
“If you weren’t pulling pranks all the time, you wouldn’t get in trouble,” Renee tattled.
“Luke.” Mary cocked her head and gave him her mama warning look.
“I’m not doing nothin’.” Luke faked innocence.
“Um-hm.” Mary’s voice betrayed her disbelief.
That evening the kids completed their homework, then watched The Waltons on television. When bedtime came, her children climbed into sleeping bags in the living room.
“Get your feet out of my face!” Meg swatted Renee on the legs.
“Mom,” the younger girl complained.
“This is totally bogus,” her eldest grumbled.
“Marguerite, if you’d be a little more pleasant, it’d be a big help,” Mary begged.
“Yeah, Marguerite,” Luke chided.
“Buzz off, turkey.” Meg threw a pillow, knocking over the lamp. It went dark at the breaking of the bulb.
“Smooth move, Ex-Lax,” Luke poked.
Mary left the room to find the broom and a light bulb and Paul whispered, “Take a chill pill.” Mary stopped around the corner and eavesdropped. “Mom’s working hard to get her business going so she can take care of us. Stop fighting!”
“Who died and made you king of the world?” Luke objected.
“Nobody. But Mom’s havin’ a rough time. If she fails, we all fail.”
“Paul’s right,” Meg said, backing her brother. “She goes downstairs and works on her designs after we’re asleep. Some nights she doesn’t sleep at all.”
Mary covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a sob. She didn’t want them to worry the way she did. She grabbed a workman’s broom and a light bulb and returned to clean up the broken glass. Paul sat next to Renee.
Mary expertly swept the glass and dropped it in the waste can. If she had a dime for every mess she’d cleaned, she wouldn’t be worried about money.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Meg offered.
“It’s all right, baby. I know we’re in close quarters.” Mary sank into the couch and patted her arm. “We need to band together. I love you kids. Let’s make a pact to be kind to one another.”
“Okay, Mom,” Meg wiped her own tears as she hugged her mother.
Paul nodded his agreement and joined the embrace, as did Renee. Mary motioned to the younger ones, who bounded in for a group hug. “Oh, my lovelies, this adventure’s gonna be outta sight. All right! Give me five.” They sealed their vow with hand slaps.
A week later Mary and Joanna shivered in their winter coats as they stood across the street from Mary’s building watching the sign company installed her lighted MEMPHIS LACE placard. The worker on the scaffolding gave a loud whistle, signaling for the power to go on. The sign glowed warmly against the gray winter day.
“Looks great,” Joanna said through chattering teeth.
“This is so exciting, I’m tingly,”
“No, that’s the early stages of frostbite,” Joanna joked. Mary took the hint.
“Come on, I’ll show you the rest.” They made a dash for the warmth of her elegant new storefront. Mary led them through: “Over here is the bridal boutique.” A three-way mirror anchored a carpeted platform connected to a large dressing room. An enchanting white dress took center stage in the tulle-and-flower-draped display window. “On this side are the prom and pageant dresses for teenagers, and the communion and pageant outfits for the younger ones.” Mary pointed at the racks half full of colorful gowns.
“This is amazin’. Your grandma’d be so proud.”
“Yeah, I wish she could pull some other strings for me.” Joanna raised her eyebrows. “Tony called a week ago, all excited; he was able to get our son’s birth certificate number.”
“How’d he do that?” Joanna asked, astounded.
“Someone told him to look at the black books behind the counter of the Nashville courthouse, which contain every birth certificate number, even those for the sealed adoptions. He convinced a new girl to let him look at the catalog for 1957. Of course, then he went back to the microfiche. As of yesterday, he hasn’t found anything.”
“Don’t give up hope. He might find him,” Joanna encouraged.
“I keep praying.” Mary sighed.
Joanna dozed on her living room sofa. The clock chimed 1:00 a.m. and Hope had, once again, broken curfew. At the roar of Jimmy Cochran’s motorcycle, Joanna watched out the window as Hope dismounted. The young couple were making out as if they were in the middle of Mardi Gras. Joanna didn’t care for Jimmy, an eighteen-year-old high school dropout. As far as Joanna could tell, he spent his time smoking dope, drinking, and fighting.
Having seen enough, Joanna turned on the end-table lamp. Hope broke off the peep show she was giving the neighbors and scampered up the walk. Entering the house, her mother confronted her, arms crossed, standing in the living room archway.
“I know, I’m late, sorry,” Hope sang in a snotty tone, stiffening.
“The school called. You skipped again today.”
“Big whoop, I’m quitting anyway. Jimmy and I are gettin’ married.” Hope displayed a ring with a diamond chip in the center.
“What’re you thinkin’?” Joanna shouted in disbelief.
“We know what we’re doing. You need to sign the consent forms.”
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Joanna deduced.
“Yes, but Jimmy said he’d marry me, even if I wasn’t. He loves me, Mama!”
“Oh God,” she moaned, shaking her head. Joanna refused her consent and Hope declared all-out war. The disagreements went on for weeks while Hope tried everything from being sweet to screaming and throwing things.
Joanna called Jessie for advice. “You’re not gonna like what I tell you,” Jessie warned.
“When’s that ever stopped you?” Joanna remarked with a laugh.
“If she’s so hell-bent on marryin’ this guy, let her. You’ve voiced your objections. If she still insists on gettin’ legally bound to the asshole, sign your consent. At least he’ll be legally responsible for child support. Prissy will tell you, Hope can petition the court for emancipation; because she’s pregnant they’ll likely grant it. Then she can get married without your consent and you won’t get to be a grandma to the baby.”
“Don’t tell her,” Joanna admonished sarcastically.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jessie promised.
“It makes me sick that five generations of women in my family have gotten pregnant in their teens,” Joanna groaned.
“How’d she get pregnant anyway? I thought you put her on birth control pills last year?”
“I did. She said they made her sick and quit takin’ ’em.”
“Let’s see how she feels about mornin’ sickness and givin’ birth,” Jessie commented.
Less than a month later, Joanna heard Hope banging around in her room. When she investigated, she found her daughter stuffing her belongings into garbage bags. Long blond strands hung from her disheveled ponytail.
“What’re you doin’?” Joanna demanded.
“First thing tomorrow, I’m goin’ to the principal and blab that I’m knocked up. I’ll be expelled. Jimmy and me are moving into a trailer together. You can’t stop me because I can get a judge to declare me a mature minor.”
“Don’t bother,” Joanna relented. Sitting on the bed, she continued: “I’ll sign my consent. It’s against my better judgment, but you’ve forced my hand. I think you’re makin’ a big mistake, with a pretty predictable bad outcome.”
“I know what you think,” Hope whined, exasperated. “We have jobs waiting for us. We know what we’re doing. We love each other.”
“Please take some time to reconsider your options.”
“What, like living here with you? No thanks.” Hope continued to bag her clothes.
The next day, Joanna reluctantly accompanied Hope and Jimmy to the courthouse and scribbled her consenting signature.
“The judge isn’t gonna have time to marry us for another three hours. You don’t have to hang around. I know you don’t wanna be here anyway,” Hope told her.
“I gave my consent,” Joanna offered.
“It’d be nice to have your approval.” The girl suddenly hugged Joanna and whispered, “I’m gonna be all right, Mama.”
“That’s my wish for you,” Joanna confessed.
The newlyweds moved into a rented trailer without informing Joanna that it and their jobs were in a small Podunk town an hour away from Memphis.
“I’ll bet that was Jimmy’s idea,” Joanna accused furiously into the phone.
“What difference does it make where we live? You’re always bitching at me. I’m tired of it!” Hope hung up and refused to answer when Joanna called back.
Weeks later, Joanna, determined to make peace with Hope, drove out there. Her intentions changed when she parked at the derelict trailer matching Hope’s address. Now she wanted to bring her home. That goal intensified when Hope invited her in, exposing conditions worse than her first impression: broken furniture and a musty smell.
“Jimmy’s chopper was in front of a bar downtown,” Joanna mentioned. “No work today?”
“His boss called off work because of the rain. Jimmy’s gonna get with one of his buddies to work a side job.” Joanna’s gut told her he’d spend the day drinking, with no intention of working. Hope self-consciously cleared a dozen empty beer bottles from the table.
“You can’t tell me you’re happy livin’ this way.” Joanna crossed her arms, repulsed by the idea of sitting on the stained sofa.
“The mobile home needs some fixin’,” Hope pointed out.
“It needs to be condemned.”
“I’m happy at my job and being with Jimmy. I know what you’re thinking. Even if you drag me back to Memphis, Jimmy’ll come get me tomorrow. We’re married now.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“It’s my life. If I’m screwing it six ways to Sunday, it’s my choice. You’ve already done a bang-up job fucking up your life and mine in the process!” the girl shouted.
“I didn’t come here to argue. But now that I see your livin’ conditions, I’m worried this isn’t safe for you and a newborn. If I give you the money to move to a clean apartment and buy some new furniture, will you do it?”
Hope abandoned her hostility. “I’ll have to talk to Jimmy.”
A month later, the couple moved to a two-bedroom ground-floor apartment. Even after Joanna paid for their relocation and bought new furniture, though, her relationship with her daughter remained tense.
The following January, Hope gave birth to a baby girl she named Megan. The fact that Jimmy had been fired from two jobs since they’d married and went long periods without employment multiplied Joanna’s concern. She used the money she’d budgeted for Hope’s tuition to help with overdue bills.
Joanna dialed Mark’s number. “Hey,” she began when he answered. “I have to cancel our Sunday movie date. I’m drivin’ over to Hope’s. Her phone’s been disconnected again, and I get nervous when I can’t talk to her.”
“You want me to go with you?”
“Sure, I’d love the company.”
As she pulled onto I-40, Joanna asked Mark, “Do ya think I’m crazy for payin’ her bills?”
“No, it’s hard being their age and keeping their heads above water.”
“I can’t help worryin’. Jimmy drinks too much; he reminds me of my father.”
“When she gets tired of it, she won’t tolerate it anymore,” Mark theorized.
“I hope you’re right.”
When they arrived at the apartment, Jimmy was in the parking lot, tinkering with his motorcycle. Taking a swig of beer, he slurred his greeting: “Hey, Miss W.”
“How are ya, Jimmy?” Joanna asked.
“Just keepin’ it real.”
“Ten thirty in the mornin’ and he’s drunk on his ass,” Joanna whispered to Mark as they approached the open apartment door. A box fan rattled in the front window. Joanna knocked on the doorframe as she entered. On the couch, Hope, wearing cutoff shorts and a halter top, folded a basket of clean baby clothes. Six-month-old Megan ate Cheerios in her high chair. The place was clean; even the dishes were done.
“Hi,” Hope acknowledged, continuing her chore.
“Hi. I’ve been callin’ for days, so I know your phone’s disconnected.”
“We’re a little short this month. The bill’s on the counter.” Hope pointed. Joanna shuffled through the numerous late notices until she found the phone bill. She wrote a check.
“What’s wrong with his bike?” Joanna asked.
“Nothing. He bought some fancy new suspension.”
“How’s that more important than all those past-due bills?”
“Please, Mama, don’t start. He’s angry because I’m pregnant again.”
“Good God, Hope,” Joanna exclaimed, disappointed.
“I know,” Hope acquiesced miserably. Megan began to fuss, and Hope left off folding to rescue the baby from the high chair. Joanna spotted the Technicolor bruise on her thigh.
“Did Jimmy do that to you?” Joanna demanded.
“I slipped in the shower,” Hope lied, poorly.
“I’ll take you home right now if he’s hittin’ you.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Why do we always come to this?” Hope continued the tirade on why Joanna needed to stay out of her business.
On the drive back to Memphis, Joanna expressed her concern. “That black-and-blue mark looked like it came from the toe of a construction boot to me.”
“She’s got to admit it before she’ll do anything to stop it,” Mark said.
“There’s the problem. I watched my mother take it until the day my father finally killed her. It truly breaks my heart to see Hope take the same road.”
Joanna noticed a card left on her fireplace mantel from Mark. Ever since his first marriage proposal in New York, he’d continued his gentle persuasion by occasionally leaving a card with a reason she should marry him: “Reason 42: I want to wake up next to you every morning.” Or “Reason 59: I love the sound of your laughter.” After all this time, they were on Reason 132, which said, “My shoulders are strong. I want to help you carry your troubles.” Joanna felt as if she’d been lugging a fifty-pound rock around her neck. She called Mark on the phone.
“Yes,” she told him, after he answered with, “Hello.”
“Yes, what?” he asked, confused.
“Yes, I’ll marry you!”
“If I’d known that’s the one that’d convince you, I would’ve used it years ago.”
“It’s not the last card. It’s all the reasons you’ve given me over the years.”
“Well, whatever it was, I’ll take it. You’re not going to back out tomorrow, are you?”
“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me now.”
“I was stuck with you the first day I met you.”
Mark and Joanna were married by a justice of the peace on a magnificent September day in the backyard of her house. Thirty of their friends and family celebrated at the informal patio reception. Stan played the part of DJ while couples danced barefoot in the grass, while Mrs. Thatcher took the role of caterer. Hundreds of white Christmas lights supplied ambience.
As Joanna and Mark danced in the romantic glow, Prissy, Mary, and Jessie looked on from the picnic table while Hope sat on the porch stairs scowling at Allie and Tom Wyatt, who were sharing a slow dance. Tilley and George Johnson danced in a circle around the bride and groom, stirring laughter from everyone in the yard.
The newlyweds spent the weekend at the Peabody Hotel. Mark rented out his house for extra income and they settled into the new living arrangement at Joanna’s. It felt natural for Allie to occupy Hope’s bedroom upstairs. Joanna had been her stepdaughter’s primary female role model for eight years, so the adjustment was effortless.
In her senior year Allie worked on the school newspaper, where she developed a love for journalism. Before long, she was writing articles covering the energy crisis and environmental concerns. For inspiration, she painted a quote from Joseph Pulitzer on the wall above her typewriter: “The power to mold the future of the Republic will be in the hands of the journalists of future generations.” Allie received a scholarship to Columbia University’s School of Journalism in New York.
