Hyannis Port, Massachusetts
October 1956
I heard Maria Callas sing at the Met last night,” Jackie said during a lull in conversation around the Kennedys’ huge oak dinner table. “She was spectacular. It gave me gooseflesh that a human being can produce such a sound.”
Jack looked up from sawing his brisket. It was tough as boot leather; Jackie had left most of her portion. If she were in charge of the menu, the meals would be much better, but the Kennedys didn’t care about fine food. “Just think of all the votes I could have bought for the price of your ticket,” he quipped.
She felt a prick of annoyance. Running their household was her domain, but Jack was forever complaining about money these days, wanting to know how much she spent on drapes, and rugs—even on towels, for heaven’s sake. She was about to answer when Rose, Jack’s mother, chimed in.
“She sounds like a piece of work. Did you read that Time article about her?”
Jackie shook her head. “Not yet.”
“It says she is a diva who always has to get her own way.” Rose spoke as if this were a criminal act, although the same could be said of any of her children.
“I imagine you have to be very exacting to perform at her level,” Jackie replied. “And I also imagine the Time journalist went in wielding a hatchet because otherwise there’s no meat to the story.”
“Henry Luce and Briton Hadden were the cofounders of Time, back in the twenties,” Jack’s father, Joe, added. “Decent men, both of them, but Briton used to drive Henry crazy when he put actors and singers on the cover. He wanted it to be a heavyweight political paper, leaning towards the Republicans. But of course journalists tend to be young men of principle so it acquired its Democratic bias.”
“Who do we know there?” Jack asked. And, just like that, the subject switched back to politics.
“Ed Thompson will be with us.” Joe began to list Time journalists who might support Jack’s career.
Jackie would have liked to argue that Maria Callas was every bit as deserving of a Time cover as a transient politician, and that her ticket had been worth every last cent she’d paid for it, but she knew from experience that discussions around that table quickly became adversarial. All the Kennedy children were competitive; no one backed down, whether they were playing tennis, swimming, or debating. And none of them shared her belief that culture was equally as important as politics in a civilized society. This evening, she didn’t have the energy to fight them.
Jack stood abruptly, scraping his chair against the floor. “I’ve got a meeting in Hyannis at seven. I’ll grab dessert when I’m back, if you hounds leave me any.”
“Who are you meeting?” Jackie asked, then bit her lip. She wished she could be the independent, sassy girl Jack had fallen for rather than a nagging wife, but sometimes the questions slipped out.
“You know—the team,” he answered vaguely. “I won’t be late.”
He gave Jackie a quick kiss on the forehead, exactly the same kiss he gave his mother a second later. Not long afterward she heard his car’s engine turning over in the drive.
When they finished dinner, Jackie was about to head up to their room, but Joe grabbed her arm. “Let’s you and me go for a stroll. It’s a fine evening.”
She donned a wool wrap against the autumn chill and tied a headscarf over her hair. The Kennedy house was right on the Cape Cod seafront and winds whipped in off Nantucket Sound. The sun had sunk below the horizon but there was still a pinkish glow on the west-facing upper windows.
“You seem unhappy,” Joe said as they walked across the lawn toward the beach. “Is my son neglecting you?”
“No more than usual.” Jackie forced a chuckle. She and Joe had had this conversation before. Prior to the wedding, he’d warned her that Jack needed plenty of freedom, and she’d been able to tell him she already knew.
“You could have had any man you wanted,” Joe said. “I know that; he knows that. You’re brilliant, beautiful, charming, and you’ve got spirit.”
“What’s with the soft soap?” she asked. “Have you got a favor to ask?”
He spoke seriously. “Just that you don’t leave him.”
Jackie didn’t answer for a long time, but walked along the shoreline, listening to the noise of breakers crashing, then ebbing, sending pebbles scuttling. “Why not?” she asked. “Because it would ruin his political career?”
“No. Because I couldn’t bear to lose you as a daughter-in-law. Now, let’s talk frankly.”
“We always do, Joe,” she said softly. It wasn’t quite true, but she knew he liked to think they were close, and it suited her to let him think that.
“You’ve moved around too much since you got married. You need a proper home in D.C., somewhere to raise your family. What if I help you get somewhere real nice?”
“Are you trying to bribe me?” She gazed at the darkening ocean. Fishing boats were heading out, their lights blinking as they rose and dipped on the waves.
“I wouldn’t call it that. I want you to be happy and I’m asking you to tell me what that would take.”
Her eyes blurred with tears, and she was glad of the dark and the wind blowing into her face, so that he wouldn’t realize it. Did any of them know what it felt like to have lost two babies when the other Kennedy wives and daughters were producing grandchildren like clockwork? To have to attend their baby showers and christenings was agony.
“He does love you,” Joe continued. “As much as he is capable of loving anyone. But he’s thoughtless. You have to be very self-sufficient to be with my son.”
“You can say that again.” She wiped her eyes quickly with the edge of her wrap.
“You should get pregnant again soon, Jackie,” he said. “I can’t help you with that, but you know I’m right.”
“You’re an interfering old goat, Joe.” She laughed to mask her embarrassment. Sexual relations with Jack had been almost nonexistent since Arabella had died. She was too angry with him. She should revive their sex life; she knew she should. It wasn’t good for a marriage to let these things slide.
They stopped when they reached the end of the beach, where a fence separated them from the rocks beyond.
“Start house hunting,” he said. “Let me know when you find one you like. Decorate it however you want. Build a nest.”
Jackie nodded. She would enjoy that. As it happened, she already had a picture of her ideal house in mind. And perhaps, if there was any cash left over, they could buy their own place in Hyannis Port and not have to stay at the family home anymore. She’d like that.
A FEW MONTHS later, a Washington paper printed a story claiming that Jackie had been thinking of leaving her senator husband but that Joe Kennedy had bribed her to stay by giving her a check for a million dollars. Where did they get these stories with their tiny kernels of truth? she wondered. It was alarming to think there could be a leak so close to home.
She called her father-in-law, assuming he would have seen the story too. “Only a million, Joe?” she teased. “Why not ten million?”
He laughed, but she could sense caution. “Worth it at any price,” he said at last.
“I’ve got some news for you.” She crossed her fingers before continuing, so she didn’t jinx it. “I don’t want everyone to know yet because it’s early days but I followed your advice. I’m pregnant.”
“That’s wonderful!” he cried, and she could hear that he was grinning. “Third time lucky, eh?”
“Third time lucky,” she agreed, but she kept her fingers crossed after they got off the phone. At long last she hoped to give Jack a child, but she couldn’t help feeling scared. She didn’t know how she would bear it if anything went wrong this time.