LILY WAS IN THE beginning of her ninth month. With the increased size of her belly, almost everything had become difficult, even the trip into town each week to see Dr. Hansen. As her pregnancy entered its last few weeks, Harry became terribly nervous. The idea of a country doctor and a midwife delivering a child at home seemed both primitive and foolhardy.
One night he said, “Lily, I think we should take a cheap apartment in New York until the baby is born. I want you to see a doctor there. I should have insisted on it before.”
Amused by his concern, Lily assured him, “Darling, there’s nothing to worry about. The doctor says I’m built like Guinevere. Besides, he delivers babies at home all the time. Please don’t worry.” She kissed him again but, weary as he was, he couldn’t sleep. If anything happened to Lily, he would simply die.
When Lily’s water broke at four in the morning, Harry knew he should have insisted they go back to the city.
Jumping out of the drenched bed, he cried, “Lily, are you all right?”
“Of course I am. Now be an angel and get me a new nightie out of the second drawer in the dresser.”
“Are you having any pain?”
“It’s a little early for that, darling. Let’s get some fresh sheets on the bed.”
Harry obeyed and asked, “Is it dangerous losing all that fluid?”
“No, it’s normal. Please give me a hand with this gown.”
He helped her change, then stripped the bed, turned the mattress, and remade the bed. Once he had finished, he began to fuss. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I couldn’t be better.”
“Let me get you something.”
“Not a thing, thank you.”
To divert him, she added, “Why don’t you call the doctor?”
Frantically, Harry cranked the wall phone in the hall and waited, feeling the sweat pour down his back. “God damn it,” he muttered when there was no answer.
“Get me Dr. Hansen immediately. It’s an emergency.”
He waited and waited and at last heard the receiver lift.
“This is Harry Kohle, Dr. Hansen. Lily’s in labor. You have to come right away.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I pick up the nurse.”
Returning to Lily’s side, Harry asked, “Are you in pain now, Lily?”
“No, I’m not. Darling, why don’t you just calm down?”
“I am calm. Now, can’t I get you something?”
“No, no, nothing. But I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you boil some water and fix a pot of coffee. Maybe you could also start the fire.”
“A fire? Are you cold?”
“Er … just a little.”
After tucking the blanket in for her he left, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
As he pumped the water into the pot, he looked out the window. A gray dawn shot through with lightning was breaking. Noticing the heavy clouds on the horizon, he shivered; he hoped they weren’t in for a storm. His fears were interrupted by the coffee boiling over. The forecast was for clear weather. Harry chided himself for letting his imagination run away with him.
He poured coffee for Lily and took the cup back to their room, then kindled a fire in the grate.
“It tastes awfully good, Harry,” she said.
Suddenly he heard a clap of thunder, followed almost immediately by a torrent of hail. He had been right about those thunderclouds! How would the doctor ever get through? The storm raged on, and as the minutes became hours, Harry became increasingly frightened as Lily’s contractions grew closer together. Her quiet reassurance ceased as the pain became excruciating. All he could do was pray as he watched her digging her nails into her palms.
“Squeeze my hand, Lily. No, harder.”
Eight hours had passed since Lily’s water had broken, and there was still no sign of Dr. Hansen. He lived twenty-five miles away, and Harry knew that in a storm like this the roads were probably impassable. He tried calling again; the line was dead, and he hung up cursing himself for not insisting that Lily have this baby in New York City.
As for Lily, she no longer cared about being valiant or courageous; she only prayed for the agony to end.
As Harry wiped her forehead with a damp cloth, she finally screamed, “It’s coming! It’s coming!”
More terrified than he’d ever been in his life, Harry guided the infant into the world with shaking hands. Hearing its first cry he looked with awe at the tiny creature he and Lily had created. Lily reached out her arms and he gently gave her the baby. She had dreamed of this moment for so long, and now it was a reality.
“How are you, Lily?”
Smiling up at her husband, she murmured, “Happy, so happy.”
The phone rang, making them both jump. When Harry picked up, Dr. Hansen was on the line. “I’ve been trapped in a ditch for hours. They just pulled us out. Tell me, how is Lily?”
“Thank God, she’s fine. We had a little boy about a half-hour ago.”
“Well, congratulations! It seems you didn’t need me after all.”
“You were needed. In fact, it’s a miracle everything’s okay. How soon can you get here to check up on Lily?”
“I’ll start right now.”
Later Harry called Randolph. “We have a son,” he bragged.
“Oh my God! Beautiful Lily is a mother. Have you decided on a name?”
“Jeremy Anton Kohle.”
“Well, give Lily my love, and tell her that I’ll be there to see her tomorrow. That’s not too soon, is it?”
“No, please come. We’d love to see you.”
Bright and early the next morning, Randolph arrived, carrying a huge box four times Jeremy’s size, and loads of other gifts as well.
Lily told him, “If it weren’t for you, I would never have known this joy—my wonderful husband and my beautiful child.”
“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Lily dear. I have to confess that I had my doubts about your marriage, but it obviously suits you. I just want you to know that if there’s ever anything I can do for you, financially or otherwise …”
Quickly Lily said, “Oh, no. Harry and I are getting along just fine.”
“How is the writing coming?”
“Marvelously. He just sold an article to Redbook.”
“Why, that’s great!” Randolph said, a shade too heartily. “What’s it about?”
Lily was suddenly vague. “Oh, you wouldn’t be interested.”
“Yes, I would.”
“Well …,” she said haltingly, “he wrote it under a pseudonym.”
“Come on, give.”
She started to laugh. “I think it’s Daisy Keller.”
Following the Jewish tradition Harry had Dr. Hansen circumcise his son, but it wasn’t a religious ceremony and Harry felt bad both for his child and for his parents.
Ever since Jeremy’s birth he had been thinking about his mother and father. He had had no contact with them since the fateful morning in his father’s study, and over the months he had secretly mourned their loss. What purpose did religion serve if it made people lack compassion? But apparently nothing was of greater importance to Benjamin and Elise Kohle than their beliefs.
Even though Harry expected that it would be an exercise in futility, his joy in his son was so great that he felt he had to share it with his parents, or at least try to.
Seated at his desk one night after Lily was asleep, he wrote to tell them about the baby.
Dear Mother and Father,
Seven days ago, Lily and I became the proud parents of Jeremy Anton Kohle. He is the loveliest little boy in the world.
In light of this joyous event, I wonder if we might not find it in our hearts to lay aside our anger. I understand your beliefs and I respect them. But the happiness we could have together as a family seems so much more important at this time.
I want so much for our son to see his grandparents. It would mean a very great deal to Lily and to me, and to our child.
I have missed you greatly, and thought about you so often. I regret that I have not lived up to your expectations, but I am terribly happy with Lily and now with our son.
Please let me share our joy with you.
With all my love,
Harry
After reading it over carefully, Harry posted the letter with mingled feelings of pessimism and hope. Almost three weeks passed before they replied. Harry tore open the envelope, almost dreading to read the contents.
Dear Harry,
Please forgive our delay; when your letter arrived we were abroad and we have just returned.
Like you, we know that our last meeting was very difficult and the memory of it is still painful. With no intent to denigrate your wife, we still would not feel comfortable visiting in your home.
However, since this child is our grandchild, and is in no way at fault, we would love you to bring him to visit us in Manhattan. We would, of course, expect Lily too.
Despite its condescending tone, Harry was delighted. He had never stopped loving his mother and father and had only wanted them to be proud of him. He bounded into the kitchen where Lily was nursing Jeremy.
“You look happy, darling.”
“I am, Lily. Look, a letter from my parents.”
Frowning, she asked, “Why, after all this time?”
“Well, actually, I sent them a note telling them about the baby.”
“What did they say?”
Quickly, he improvised. “Oh, they’re anxious for us to bring the baby to see them.”
“That’s wonderful! I can hardly believe it.”
“I don’t know, Lily, maybe they were waiting for a gesture from me. You know, perhaps you should think of contacting your parents.”
“Maybe,” said Lily. “Maybe.” But she was still afraid of being rejected.
Early one Sunday morning, Harry drove his family to Manhattan in the secondhand Model T Ford they had bought after selling the Stutz. The two thousand dollars meant much more to them than a sports car at this point.
When they arrived at the town house, Harry’s parents at first seemed quite formal. But when they looked at the infant, their faces miraculously softened, and as Lily gently placed Jeremy in Elise’s arms, she couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, Harry knew he’d done the right thing.
Later at lunch, Elise covertly eyed Lily. She had visualized the Goodhue heiress as a spoiled, petulant debutante. But it was clear that she had been mistaken; Lily was not only beautiful, but sweet and gracious. And somehow, in spite of her prejudices, Elise had immediately warmed to her.
Benjamin, on the other hand, felt less magnanimous. He believed that Harry had written because he needed help. It was common knowledge that Lily had been disinherited, so that they couldn’t be living on her dowry, and now that they had a child, it seemed obvious that Harry was desperate to get a job in the bank.
Benjamin had heard that Harry had written several articles here and there, but good Lord, that certainly was not enough to support a family. After lunch, Benjamin decided to make it easy on his son. He took him into the study for coffee, smiled, and said, “Well, Harry? When would you like to start at the bank?”
Harry stared at his father in disbelief, realizing at last why Benjamin had been so welcoming. He thought he had won; that Harry had come to ask for work, not because he loved his family.
“Is that why you think I’m here, Father?” said Harry with a short laugh. “I’m a writer and I have no intention of changing my profession. What I wanted today was for us to be reconciled as a family—nothing more.”
Angry as much at having been wrong as at learning Harry would not be joining the family business, Benjamin exploded with rage.
“You are throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime. Well, you’ve been an idler all your life and now I see that you’re never going to change. You’re always going to be a good-for-nothing. I hope you realize it’s not just your heritage you’re throwing away, but your son’s.”
“My son will have his own legacy!” Harry shot back.
“His father the author? Tell me, what great strides have you made in the literary world?”
Harry was so hurt he could barely answer. “Don’t worry about us, Father, we’re getting along fine.”
But Benjamin was too shrewd to be taken in. “How much money have you made in the last year?”
“That’s none of your business. The point is, I haven’t had to ask for your help.”
“Now that you’re living out in the country, I sincerely hope that it’s not a hovel like the one you had when you were at Columbia.”
“God, there’s no end to your cruelty.”
“Well, you don’t need to put up with any more of it,” said Benjamin, “because I wash my hands of you.”
Harry cringed as his father’s brutal, merciless words ripped away at the last vestiges of self-esteem, but he could not give his father the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d been wounded.
“Even if we never see you again,” Harry shouted, “I’ll tell you for once what I really think of you. You’re a bully. The moment someone refuses to do things your way, you explode. My brothers knuckled under but I won’t. And that’s what you can’t forgive!” Harry walked out of the study and slammed the door.
When he appeared in the living room, Lily and Elise, who were chatting about the baby, looked up in surprise.
“Lily, it’s time we were leaving,” was all he said.
Realizing he must have fought with his father, both women exchanged sad glances, but all Lily said was, “Of course, darling.”
Face remote and set, Harry went over to his mother, took her hands and kissed her cheek. “It was wonderful to see you, Mother.”
Elise followed them to the door. “We had such a nice visit, my dear,” she said to Lily. “You’ll come again soon and bring the baby?”
Harry answered for her. “I don’t think so, Mother. Not for a while.” They left her standing on the front stoop, waving forlornly.
On the drive home, Lily longed to ask what had happened, but seeing Harry grimly pressing the gas pedal to the floor, she remained silent. It was only when they lay alongside each other in bed that Harry gave her a brief sketch of the scene. He couldn’t bring himself to repeat his father’s scathing assessment of his future. Instead, he just said, “It was the same old thing, Lily. He wants me to come work in the bank, and I told him that I wouldn’t do it.”
“Oh,” she said slowly. “That was all?”
“Yes,” he lied.
“Well, it’s too bad that that had to spoil the day for you, sweetheart. Your mother was so charming to me.”
“I knew they would love you, Lily,” he said, drawing her into his arms, finally finding solace in her embrace.
Over the next few days Lily decided it was time to pocket her own pride and write her mother and father. After several attempts, she penned a short note telling them about the baby and asking them to visit. Several weeks passed with no answer. Then, almost one month to the day, Lily received a phone call burying all hopes of eventual reunion.
It was from Christian Raines, her father’s attorney. “Lily, I have some very sad news,” he said gently. “Your parents’ sailboat capsized in Long Island Sound and I’m afraid their bodies have just been identified.”
Lily began to weep.
“I’m afraid I can’t even ask you to the funeral,” Christian went on. “Your father’s will not only disinherited you, leaving his fortune to charity, but specifically requested you not be present. My dear, I know he would have forgiven you in time. He even had a letter from you in his desk. Perhaps he would have answered …”
There were a few more kind words uttered, but Lily was no longer listening. Remembering her years of exile in Europe, she found little comfort in the probability of being reunited with her parents had they lived.