CAROL ON HER OWN

The divorce proceedings began to drag out. The sticking point was the child support; Roy had heard, through communication between his and Carol's respective lawyers, that his last child had been another girl, and was balking at the idea of supporting so many females. Carol paid the hospital bills for Cindy's birth from her own account, just as she had done with the other girls, and at Henry's suggestion paid rent for another month in their apartment. Roy had evidently rented a studio in another part of L.A., but he never contacted Carol directly and she didn't bother trying to contact him. Their lives were curiously peaceful without him around. Fortunately, by the end of August Roy's lawyer apparently convinced him it would look better for him if he started sending support checks, and Carol was gratified and very relieved to receive her first check for two hundred dollars. With it came a note from Roy's lawyer that she would be receiving this amount each month.

Marcia started first grade without incident and was as good a student as she had been in kindergarten; Jan, at three, was old enough to be very interested in helping Carol care for Cindy, and often imitated Carol's actions when "caring" for her baby dolls. She was a willing helper, toting diapers, bottles, clean baby clothes, blankets and whatever else Carol needed.

For Christmas Carol took her girls over to her parents' house and stayed with them for a couple of days. On Christmas Day itself, Mary and Roger brought Chrissy and Alan over, and Jack joined the family as well with his current girlfriend, Pauline Myers. They seemed quite serious, and Carol hoped Jack and Pauline would have a better relationship than she'd had with Roy.

The new year rolled in and Cindy was six months old; Marcia was a happy and popular first-grader, and Jan had begun displaying a penchant for drawing. At just three she was already producing the sort of stick figures that Marcia and her friends matter-of-factly drew in school, and Carol wondered if Jan might grow up to be an artist. She was sensitive enough for it, to be sure; Jan seemed the most insecure of the girls, and was the only one who asked Carol about Roy, though she didn't do so very often.

Then one chilly morning, just after Carol had returned from taking Marcia to school and was still in the process of taking off Jan's and Cindy's outerwear, there came a knock on the door. Carol, thinking back to the previous summer when she'd been served with the divorce papers, promptly assumed it had something to do with that, and headed for the door with Cindy in her arms. She did take a couple of seconds to squint through the peephole, and then looked again: this time her unexpected caller was a police officer. Startled and apprehensive, she opened the door. Cindy stared mesmerized at the stranger.

"Hello, officer," Carol said questioningly.

The policeman nodded and removed his cap; Cindy watched every move he made. Jan came to the door and stood behind Carol, clinging to her skirt and warily taking stock of the man. "Mrs. Carol Martin?" the policeman asked politely.

"Yes, I'm Carol Martin," she said. "Is something wrong?"

The man cleared his throat and glanced at Jan, then at Cindy, before drawing in a breath and saying in a carefully flat voice, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin…but I'm afraid your husband is dead."

Carol felt her mouth fall open, but she couldn't quite think of anything to say. "Roy?" she finally said.

"Yes, ma'am. It, uh…it happened about an hour ago." Carol realized suddenly that the policeman must be a rookie, or not far past it; he looked uncomfortable, and he clearly didn't have much experience delivering news like this. "My partner and I responded to a car wreck at approximately 7:40 AM. It seems…he was speeding, ma'am, on the freeway. He appears to have lost control of his car and collided head-on with a bridge abutment at very high speed."

What was he doing? was Carol's first thought. "Was…anyone else involved?" she asked.

"No, ma'am, Mr. Martin was the only occupant of his car…a 1960 Chevrolet Corvette?" the policeman asked, and Carol blinked and nodded vaguely.

"Roy's Boy's Toy," she mumbled. "After all the money he spent on that car, and now…" She cleared her throat and met the policeman's slightly confused gaze. "No other cars were…I mean, he didn't hit anyone else when he…crashed?"

"No, ma'am, it was a one-car accident," the policeman assured her. "There's an autopsy scheduled…"

"To see if he'd been drinking," said Carol automatically, and then thought, I must have been watching too many episodes of Dragnet, if I know that. She shifted Cindy in her arms. "Did he…did they take him to the hospital?"

"Only to the morgue, ma'am, I'm sorry. He was already dead when we arrived—we suspect he was killed on impact." The policeman nervously readjusted his stance. "Is there anything we can do?"

Carol suddenly remembered something else and drew up straight with trepidation. "I don't have to…identify him, do I?"

"No, ma'am, his driver's license did that," the policeman said. Carol could see how tightly he clutched his cap, and felt sorry for him. Imagine having to deliver that kind of news on a regular basis!

She nodded. "I see, officer, thank you. Is there anything I have to do?"

"At the moment, ma'am, no. We'll contact you with the name of the funeral home that's handling the…the arrangements." The cop cleared his throat once more. "I'm very sorry, ma'am."

"Yes, thank you," Carol said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

When he was gone, she settled at the table in a daze. For the first time, Jan spoke. "Mommy, what does that mean, 'dead'?"

"It means…it means that Daddy's heart stopped beating, and his brain stopped working, and he stopped breathing," Carol tried to explain. "Forever. Daddy can never come back to see you or Marcia or Cindy." He can also never pay child support, she thought out of the blue, and felt the first frissons of alarmed worry snake through her. Without Roy's support, there was no way she could raise her daughters without going back to work, and she still didn't like the idea of leaving Jan and Cindy with others.

Jan absorbed this information, and then frowned and looked at the baby. "He never saw Cindy," she said.

Good Lord, she's right, Carol realized, shocked. "No," she murmured, "he sure didn't." She bit her lip, then finally thought of something to do. "I'd better call Grandma."

She dialed her parents' house and explained to Martha, without emotion, what she had learned. Martha was silent for quite a bit; then she said in astonishment, "Oh my. Oh my goodness."

"I'm…I'm going to have to get a job, Mom," Carol said with a heavy sigh. She didn't have much choice, not if she wanted to provide for her girls. "And then I'll have to find someone who can watch Jan and Cindy, and Marcia when she gets home from school…"

"Carol, Carol, slow down," Martha broke in. "I know you don't want to put the girls through that sort of thing, and I don't think you should have to, certainly not while Cindy's a baby. Look, dear, why don't you bring Jan and Cindy over here, and we'll get your father and sit down and discuss the problem."

"I'll do that, Mom, thanks," Carol said, relieved. She told Jan to get her sweater again, and pulled the little pink faux-fur jacket that had once belonged to Marcia back onto Cindy. Please let the Studebaker start, she thought as she always did, settling Cindy on one arm and guiding Jan out the door with the other.

Martha had clearly spread the news: Mary was there with her children when Carol arrived. Chrissy, Jan and Alan promptly occupied themselves in the living room trying to make Cindy laugh by pulling faces at her, while Martha, Mary and Carol settled around the kitchen table with mugs of coffee. "Where's Dad?" Carol asked.

"He made a trip down to the hardware store," Martha explained, "he should be back shortly. So. My goodness, Carol, what a shock."

"Yeah," Carol said with a soft sigh.

"You seem awfully composed for a bereaved widow," Mary remarked, with hesitant amusement.

Carol looked up and shrugged, half-smiling at her sister. "I'm not sure I'm all that bereaved, Mary," she admitted. "After all, Roy and I were in the middle of getting divorced, and it wasn't exactly going smoothly. That lawyer must have been pulling sparrows' teeth when he got Roy to send us a check every month. Obviously that's not going to be coming in anymore. And Jan said it all a while ago—Roy never once set eyes on Cindy."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Martha in disgust, and Mary snorted and muttered a word that made Martha give her a stern look and Carol blink in surprise. "Mary," Martha admonished.

"Sorry, Mom, but that's just so typically Roy," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "I bet if Cindy had been a boy, he'd have beaten down everything in sight to get back to Carol and the kids. I wonder if he bothered to do right by you and leave you anything."

"I don't think it matters," Carol said dully. "I'm going to have to look for a job, or else the girls and I will be out on the street before spring. My savings aren't holding out too well—Roy didn't send very much, only two hundred a month. And I know I can qualify as a secretary, only I'm not very sure whether anyone will hire me. I married Roy right out of college and I've never actually had a job."

Mary and Martha looked at each other. "Well," Mary said slowly, "I know Roger's firm is hiring. You could try there, if you want."

Carol smiled finally. "Thanks, sis," she said.

"Well, while you're doing that…" Martha began, and at that point they heard the front door open. "Oh good, Henry's home. Let's fill him in."

Henry listened to the whole story with amazement initially, then a thoughtful look. "Well, well," he mused at length. "Nice mess Roy left you in, Kitty, huh?"

"That's for sure, Dad," Carol murmured, and to her surprise she heard her voice wobble. Henry came right over to the table and took Carol's hand as she got out of her chair, and then held her and patted her back as she cried, just as he had when she was a little girl.