Chapter Four

Shortly after seven, Jack was trundled off to the operating room, and I went to the coffee shop and brooded over why, even now, I hadn’t been able to show him more affection. I had squeezed his hand a couple of times and told him not to worry, but I could’ve done as much for a comparative stranger.

He was brought back from the recovery room around eleven, and Duff and Franny returned shortly after that. I noticed no change in their relationship toward each other then, but later I remembered how unusually quiet Franny had been.

Dr. Fowler and the surgeon, a Dr. Vincent, came to see us and reported that the operation had been a complete success and Jack was doing splendidly. They also said they’d like to keep him in the hospital for about ten days.

“He’ll need nursing care when he goes home then, won’t he?” Duff asked.

“It probably would be good to have professional help for a short while, until he can shift for himself,” Dr. Vincent said.

“We can get someone in Scarsdale,” I said.

“We could get someone to take care of Dad here too, couldn’t we?” said Duff. “Mrs. Weber’s daughter is a nurse, isn’t she?”

“Stephanie Weber had two years of training at this hospital,” Dr. Fowler said. “I would say she could serve as a good practical nurse, which is all you need in this case.”

“We won’t discuss it now,” I said.

Jack was coming around, although he was still pretty groggy. We talked with him for a few minutes, and then, on the advice of Dr. Fowler, let him go back to sleep while we returned to the farm.

There I cooked bacon and eggs—I was starved by then, with the worry over Jack abated—and we all ate heartily and went to bed, or at least I know that Franny and I did. I’m not sure what Duff was doing then. Anyway, I was just dozing off when the front doorbell rang. I put on my robe and went to the door, fearful that it might be someone with bad news about Jack.

It was a telephone serviceman. “I came to install the phone,” he said. “John W. Caine?”

“Yes, but we didn’t order—”

“Somebody ordered it.” He showed me a piece of paper. “And the order was confirmed by your neighbor down the road. Let’s see . . . Emil R. Weber. We generally try to get a confirmation before we drive any great distance—just to avoid the practical jokers.”

Duff came downstairs and to the door. “I ordered the phone, Mom,” he said. “I thought we’d probably need it because of Dad.”

“But we’re not going to stay here!”

He was very patient. “But while we are here, we’ll want to phone the hospital, won’t we? And Dad may want to phone us.”

I was still angry, mainly because he hadn’t asked my permission. “Go ahead,” I told the man, “since you’re here.”

“It’ll be a twenty-­five dollar deposit.”

“All right.”

“It will take a while. I’ll have to run a line in here from the road.”

“We’re in no hurry.” I closed the door and turned to Duff. “Where did you make the call to the telephone company?”

“From Mrs. Reddy’s. I went down there this morning before Franny and I went to the hospital.”

“Very convenient. Mrs. Reddy and the Webers were right there to confirm the order when the telephone company called back. And did you discuss our hiring Stephanie as a nurse too?”

“Mrs. Reddy mentioned it. She says that Stephanie knows all about taking care of patients with broken hips. She had a case just like Dad’s last spring.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Go to your room. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Yes ma’am.” He started up the stairs, then paused. His eyes really were tearful now. “If Dad should get worse, Mom, and the hospital wanted to reach us quickly . . .”

My eyes were filling too. “You might at least have told me about it,” I said.

“I forgot.”

Duff forget? I had never known him to forget anything, but I didn’t doubt his word then.

“All right, we have a telephone and let’s be grateful for it. Even if it’s only for a few days, it’s worth whatever it costs.”

“That’s the way I felt.” He sniffled a little, took off his glasses and wiped them with his shirttail and went up the stairs.

The telephone was installed by mid-­afternoon. Our first caller was Mrs. Reddy, who wanted to express her joy at our being able to communicate with the outside world. The next caller was Jack, sounding a bit weak but definitely in good spirits. It seemed that Mrs. Reddy had taken the liberty of telling him the good news about the telephone. We also learned that we should be grateful to Emil Weber who had a friend at the telephone company. Otherwise several months might have elapsed between the request and the installation.

We had a late lunch and then went back to the hospital and spent the rest of the afternoon with Jack. Franny had come out of her shell somewhat (although I remembered later that she never engaged in any direct conversation with Duff) and Duff was positively gabby. I think he must have talked more to us on that afternoon than he had for the entire previous month.

He told us about books he had read, music he had heard, movies he had seen. He gave us an elaborate rundown on his past-­year school experiences, going over all his classes and rating his teachers. He was getting on to Ohio history and Indian activities in the Ashland area when I realized he was wearing Jack out. Later I also realized that while Duff was talking, Franny by necessity was silent.

On the way back to the farm I asked Duff where he had learned so much about the area.

“Reading,” he answered vaguely.

“In school?”

“School and other places.”

“Also in that rubbish room at the farm,” Franny said viciously.

I was surprised at her anger. She and Duff almost never quarreled.

“He surely hasn’t had much time yet to spend with those old books,” I said.

“He didn’t go to bed when we got back from the hospital this morning,” Franny said.

“I did so,” Duff insisted. “I looked at some books for a few minutes, but then I went to bed. You were supposed to be asleep, Franny, so how would you know what I did?”

Franny didn’t pursue the matter. She lowered her gaze and sulked for the rest of the ride home. I told myself that both she and Duff were suffering from the strain of the past day and thought no more about it.

We had dinner—steak and packaged french fries again—and Franny and Duff helped with the dishes, although Franny still wasn’t talking to her brother. Then Duff announced that he was going alone to the hospital to see his father and that Franny and I were going to stay home and get a good night’s rest.

I suppose I shouldn’t have allowed it, especially since he was breaking the law in driving without a license, but I was too tired to argue. I hadn’t slept since being awakened by the telephone installer and I assumed that Duff had had at least some sleep in the morning, despite what Franny had said.

While I was hesitating, he picked up the car keys. He gave me a kiss—and tried to kiss Franny, but she backed away—and went out the back door. I telephoned Jack and told him Duff was on his way and shortly afterward Franny and I went to bed.

I slept soundly for several hours and then awakened suddenly in a state of unexplainable dread. It was two by my travel clock. I got out of bed and went to the window to see if the car was in the yard. It was parked near the house, and, feeling relieved, I was about to go back to bed when the full moon came out from behind a cloud and I could see clearly all the way to the barn. There were two people standing near the barn door.

I put on my robe, went to the kitchen and opened the back door. “Duff?” I called.

One of the two seemed to be Duff, the other could have been a woman. They were standing close together facing each other. The one I took to be Duff was taller and leaning toward the other as though listening. The second person was stockier, heavier. Could it be Mrs. Reddy?

Now the moon was clouded again and I could barely see the barn. I was frightened, but I told myself that this was the country. Nothing bad could happen in the country. I walked toward the barn, continuing to call Duff, but when I reached it the people were gone. I couldn’t make myself open the door and look inside. Instead I ran back to the kitchen, slammed and bolted the door and stood there trembling for several minutes.

When I could manage to move again I went upstairs, thankful for the light in the upstairs hallway. We had been leaving it on at night since Jack’s accident. Franny’s door was closed, but Duff’s was open. He was in bed.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked drowsily when I entered the room.

“When did you come in?” I demanded.

“Hours ago. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I pulled back his blanket. He was wearing pajamas.

“All right, go back to sleep,” I said.

“You didn’t ask me about Dad,” he said in a whining tone.

“How was Dad?”

“Fine. Eager to get out of the hospital naturally. He also said he’d like us to get Stephanie Weber to nurse him here.”

“We won’t talk about that now.”

He grinned. “Why did you look to see if I was wearing pajamas. You know I don’t go to bed with my day clothes on.”

“You used to sometimes when you were a little boy,” I said. “Good night, Duff.”

I went back downstairs. Could I have been wrong about his being in the yard? Of course he could have come in the front door while I was in the kitchen. (I checked and the front door wasn’t locked.) But then who were the people? And if one was Mrs. Reddy, what was she doing in our yard at two in the morning?

At breakfast, Duff was chipper and much more talkative than he had ever been at similar times at home. I was waiting for him to mention Stephanie Weber again, but he didn’t. Instead Jack brought up her name when he telephoned us. He said that Dr. Fowler had told him he could leave the hospital at the end of the week.

“Couldn’t we possibly go home, Jack?”

“When I get the cast off. That’s supposed to be in four or five weeks.”

“Any good orthopedic man in New York can take off a cast.”

“I’d rather have Dr. Vincent do it, since he put it on.”

I gave in. It seemed selfish to do otherwise. If a month on the farm was what he wanted, surely the rest of us could put up with it. Duff seemed quite willing, even eager to go along with his father’s wishes, but Franny made no comment on the decision.

I phoned Mrs. Reddy, who was overjoyed. No, Stephanie wasn’t busy and, yes, she’d be glad to take care of Mr. Caine. There was no suggestion of consulting Stephanie, although I assumed the matter had been discussed with her earlier. I didn’t have the courage to ask if Mrs. Reddy had been in our yard before dawn that morning.

At the end of the week Jack came back as he had left, by ambulance, and there was quite a welcoming party to greet him. In addition to the three of us and Stephanie, looking very professional in her starched uniform, Mrs. Reddy and her daughter and son-­in-­law were also in attendance. Jack was carried to his bedroom by the ambulance men and escorted by the rest of us, Franny bringing his crutches and Duff pushing the wheelchair.

I thought we might have Mrs. Reddy, Rose and Emil with us for the rest of the day, encouraging Stephanie in her work, but after a short interval of congratulating us on securing Stephanie’s services and assuring us that Jack was going to receive care such as he could get nowhere else in the county, they left us.

And I must admit that Stephanie did take good care of Jack. I gave her the room adjoining his, while I moved in with Franny upstairs, and from then on she seemed to spend all her days and half her nights attending him. When she wasn’t bathing or massaging him or pushing him around in the wheelchair, she was reading to him from a pile of Perry Mason paperbacks she had brought with her.

Jack loved it. He never had as much attention from me, more’s the pity, I suppose. And Duff and Franny seemed to like Stephanie too, not that she ever had much free time to spend with them. In fact, I was rather surprised at Duff’s interest in her, not only because of her lumpish appearance, but because she didn’t offer him any intellectual challenge. Her mealtime conversations were limited to monosyllabic answers to questions and occasional pointless stories of other nursing experiences she had had.

Then after two weeks or so of Stephanie, we received a phone call from the Scarsdale real estate agent. Jack had written him about prolonging our stay in Ohio, and now the agent wanted to make another offer. He had a client, an oil company executive, who was willing to pay a thousand dollars a month rent for our furnished home on a six-­month lease with an option to buy for ninety-­five thousand if we decided then to sell.

“No,” I said.

“What do we have to lose?” Jack said. “We can sell or not, as we choose, in six months, and meanwhile we’re getting a thousand a month for staying here.”

“I still don’t like it. The school year is coming on.”

“Stephanie says there are good schools in Cainesville.”

“Stephanie!”

Jack laughed. “See, I knew you were jealous. Cheer up, Maggie. I’ll have the cast off and Stephanie will be gone in a couple more weeks. And do you realize how little we’re paying that girl and what the same kind of nursing care would cost us at home?”

It was true, I had to admit. And I also knew that, in our present situation, it would have been foolish to pass up what seemed to be found money, considering that it also seemed Jack was never going to earn any money again.

Duff was all for calling the agent back immediately and accepting the offer. Franny still didn’t seem to care one way or another.

“This place is fascinating,” Duff said. “I’m learning a lot about the family and the area, but I’ll need at least six months to read all the material upstairs.”

“Why don’t you all drive over to Cainesville and look at the schools,” Jack said. “That won’t cost anything.”

So Duff, Franny and I went to Cainesville and visited the elementary school and the high school, summer classes being in session at both places. The elementary school seemed adequate, but I was less impressed by the high school. For one thing, the science facilities were minimal. However Duff reminded me that he had completed all his obligatory lab work anyway and the chemistry and physics textbooks used at Cainesville High were very similar to those used at Scarsdale. He also made the point that six months would include only one semester and that at the end of that time he and Franny could go back to their old schools if we so decided.

Back at the farm, I phoned Dr. Raphael in New York and asked what he thought of Jack’s staying for six months in this out-­of-­the-­way place. He said that off the top of his head he thought it would be great for Jack to be anywhere away from stress and pollution. Then he agreed to check on the cardiology situation at Ashland Hospital and call me back, which he did within half an hour. It turned out that the man in charge at Ashland had excellent credentials and was a friend of a friend of Dr. Raphael’s.

Therefore it was decided. Jack called the real estate man and accepted the offer; Duff drove to the post office and mailed the keys; and I went to bed with a headache.

The next day I didn’t feel as bad about it. For one thing, it was going to be necessary for someone to go home and pick up our car and the additional clothes we’d need. That someone logically was I, which meant a few days’ respite from the rural life. That it also meant being away from my injured husband, I remembered guiltily a moment later.

Franny decided she wanted to come with me. I didn’t like taking her away from Jack, and, in fact, I was a bit surprised she was so willing to leave him, since she was so fond of him. Duff, on the other hand, declared that he would rather stay and help Stephanie look after his father.

So Franny and I went in the rented car to Cleveland Airport, flew back to New York and completed a good bit of our packing that same night. The next day we visited the real estate office, where I signed the lease with our tenant, a Mr. Harold Shaffer, who was fiftyish, well dressed and had no small children to scratch our furniture or write on our walls.

Then we went to the two schools and made arrangements for the transfer of credits. An assistant principal at Franny’s school said that she thought temporary new surroundings would be good for Franny, whom she described as an imaginative child who could become quickly bored with routine.

And of course the people at Duff’s school only confirmed what I already knew. “There’s very little more he can be taught in a high school classroom, either here or in Cainesville,” said his former physics teacher. “If he has access to good books, Duff will do well no matter where he is.”

He had access to plenty of books without doubt and some of them may have been good in the sense of being factual and informative, but they didn’t serve Duff very well. On the other hand, I suppose it wasn’t the books that caused what happened. They may have explained certain things to Duff, but the impetus to search for knowledge came from somewhere else.

Anyway the next day we loaded the Oldsmobile, took a farewell tour through the house and started back for the farm. Somewhere around Harrisburg on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, Franny told me what happened the night she and Duff drove home from the hospital.