My Darling Love
Chapter 8 – Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine
"Other things may change us, but we start and end with family."
-Anthony Brandt
Mrs. Elizabeth Baker was gravely silent when it came to any matter that did not concern her. Her husband, Mr. Joseph Baker, felt that there were no matters that concerned her, not even their only daughter Mary. So, just as in life and more so in approaching death, Mrs. Elizabeth Baker was now and would always would remain as silent as the grave.
Mary's mother died the second Tuesday in November. George's father died the week after. After Mary had run away and gotten married, Mrs. Baker did absolutely nothing. She awoke in the morning and she retired at night, dressing in the proper attire, sitting, eating at meals and nothing else. It would never be known, for no one asked, if the sorrow that consumed her was over the loss of her only child, Mary Elizabeth—the child she spent her life loving but not defending -- or never seeing her only grandchild, now a year and half old.
The day at the park, the day a mother saw her daughter swollen with child practically dragging herself home, exhausted and filthy, sent Mrs. Elizabeth Baker on the first steps to her deathbed. "I don't care if she was out begging in the streets, Elizabeth, I wish she would beg in front of my shop, that way I could kick her till she's dead and that bastard baby too..." Mr. Baker retorted as his wife arrived at his counter in the bakery out of breath and drained of tears. That was that. Mrs. Baker went home without another word and never spoke to anyone ever again.
Most swear there are no modern miracles, but those who swear on it, obviously don't live in the Bakers' home. Mary's father knew the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling had a baby girl but was unaware of the name chosen.
His sister, Millicent, told him of the baby's arrival at the same counter in the same shop where Mrs. Baker had beseeched her husband for mercy. "Mary had a girl months ago, what is it, October? I never even received a birth announcement! How rude! Anyway Joseph, I hear she looks like George, poor child."
At this news, Mr. Baker closed up shop and rushed home to inform his wife they were proud grandparents. He sat down to personally pen an invitation to the new couple, now a family, which read, "Please come to dinner in our home. Our door is always open to you." It was his attempt to reconcile their differences -- over six months after Wendy was born. He received it back in the post marked, "Moved – Left no forwarding address."
The Bakers had a portrait of Mary painted when she was only three. It was in their formal sitting parlor and hung over the fireplace. Everyday, while doing nothing, still speechless, Mrs. Baker would sit on the sofa and look purposelessly at it. Only she herself knew that, in her mind, she had replaced features in Mary's face with those of George. She guessed at names that her only child would have picked, "Audrey Elizabeth Darling, Lucille Mary Darling, Eleanor Josephine Darling," never coming close to the correct one, Gwendolyn Angelina Darling, for it was George's favorite that they had chosen.
When Mr. Baker returned home from his shop, he did the same thing, "Elizabeth Josephine Darling, Charlotte Henrietta Darling, Winifred Caroline Darling." Every Sunday they arrived to second mass extra early in hopes of catching sight of their estranged children leaving, and every Sunday they would return home no closer to a name or a face for their granddaughter.
"Father Christopher says she's beautiful, and sings along with the service," Mr. Baker offered at breakfast. "They go to first mass, Elizabeth, but leave during his sermon, because the baby gets to be wandering around and disturbing the other parishioners praying." Mr. Baker was not expecting to hear his wife give voice so when she did he fell off his chair.
"What is her name?" Mrs. Baker replied, breaking the silence that had lasted well over a year and a half.
Mr. Baker hung his head in shame. After all this time, the one question his wife asked, was the only one he did not have an answer for, "Father Christopher said if I didn't know, he wasn't going to tell me."
On that Sunday, the first Sunday in November, Mrs. Baker went to her deathbed. The only other thing she said to her husband was, "For all your sins against me, Joseph, countless in number, you get me my daughter. I want to see her before I die, or I swear I will keep you locked out of heaven myself."
Her faithful husband dispatched messengers to all the banks of London to find his exiled son-in-law. It took them a week. In the last place they looked, they found George, by accident balancing his associates' ledgers at another desk.
"Excuse me sir," they asked an employee, "I'm looking for Mr. George Darling. Do you know where I can find him?" The messenger pointed to George's desk, now vacated.
George replied, "I'm George Darling." The messenger handed him an anonymously addressed letter and took flight back to Mr. Baker for the generous reward promised to the lucky man who tracked his daughter down.
George read the note, then reread it, gave it thought and left for home on lunch hour to inform his wife of her mother's imminent demise. George continued to read the letter from his father-in-law over and over again on his walk home. He was a kind soul and even though their parents caused them great suffering when they should have given relief and aid, he felt it inappropriate that a dying old woman was not granted her last wish. Or so he said.
George had expected tears, but found that Mary only shrugged her shoulders and asked, "Does she expect us to reimburse my father for her funeral as well?"
He had disclosed nothing of the letter's contents to his wife, only responding to her practical comment, "No Mary, your father is not requesting money. Your mother was begging that you, her only daughter, be by her side as God calls her to her final repose. And I think, as your husband, you should be there for her and give her this, at the very least, the peace of mind that you are happy in your life."
That evening, George literally dragged Mary to the Bakers' home. She refused to take Wendy. "They said they didn't want to see our children or know they were alive, and who am I to deny my parent's request?" Though George wanted to take her along, and even dressed her himself for their excursion, Mary insisted they leave Wendy with their neighbor, who was more than happy to watch her.
Mary was again swollen, now with their second child, and their reception from Aunt Millicent was not warm one. She answered the bell on her way out, "Oh no, not again! Did you not just have a baby? Mary Elizabeth, you are so fat now, you'll never get your figure back." Millicent shook her head at George, shooting him a look of utter disgust as he and Mary removed their coats and entered. "Mary Elizabeth, if you continue to have children with this..." she had no words to describe the abhorrent creature George was so she only glanced at him up and down making a face as if he smelt of rotten eggs and added insult to injury with, "no man of good breeding will ever want to marry you." Mary and George were quiet and held their tongues, pushing past her to the parlor where Mr. Baker stood, having just got up from his chair.
Mary anticipated the same from her father, and held her blank expression toward him refraining from any greeting, but Mr. Joseph Baker was a changed man. It was truly a modern miracle! He was more elderly than Mary remembered. She had never seen him this overjoyed when anyone who was welcome in his home visited. Mr. Baker saw Mary first as she walked ahead of George, and he flew to her as if he had wings, embracing her so tightly she could not breath. Mary, of her own stubborn and mistrusting mind did not reciprocate the hug. He caught sight of George standing behind his Mary, and, still hugging her, refusing to let go of his baby girl, he shook his son-in-law's hand hard and vigorously. George had to extract his hand from Mr. Baker's as he felt it would surely come from its socket if the older man continued with his gleeful gesture of welcome.
Mr. Baker held Mary by the shoulders face to face with him, and finally kissed her gently on the cheek. "Married life is agreeing with you, Mary Elizabeth. I don't think I've ever seen you look so beautiful. And there is another baby coming? Good. Good for you George." First he touched Mary's cheek, speaking of her beauty, then he touched her belly, speaking of the baby, finally he shook George's hand again, complimenting him on his ability to keep Mary pregnant and in good form, causing George to release a mild grin of pride that radiated from his manly ego. Mary held the same emotionless expression without flinching.
"Where's my granddaughter?" he asked with a smile that ran ear to ear, throwing out his arms as if any moment she would run in and jump up into them.
"We left her home with the neighbor," George said, still standing behind Mary, nodding his head in his wife's direction, showing it was Mary's decision and not his own. His father-in-law's great disappointment clouded his now-wrinkled face.
Mr. Baker was plump with a gray beard that was overgrown and bushy and wore spectacles that always fell down on his nose. Just as tall as George, he was now overly hospitable, and demanded his son-in-law take a seat in his very favorite chair, the most comfortable in the house, and offered him a drink. "Anything you like out of my liquor cabinet, George, top shelf of course, the finest in the house, you name it and I'll pour you a large never ending glass full!"
George was still taken aback at the change in his father-in-law's once-hateful disposition, and stuttered, "Thank you, Mr. Baker, tea is fine."
Mr. Baker was intent on giving George a man's drink, but before he could insist Mary inquired, "May I go see mother in your room?"
Mr. Baker stopped in his tracks and turned to face Mary, once again walking up to her to hold her in a loving embrace, "Of course you can, Mary Elizabeth, she will be so happy to see you." He released her and walked to his liquor cabinet. "You know, she's been asking about you Mary Elizabeth, constantly. But before you go, why don't you sit down right here next to George, and tell me all about my granddaughter. I feel the fool, whatever did you name her?"
With Mr. Baker still rambling on asking of Wendy, pouring George his drink, Mary ascended the stairs without answering him, and returned only a few minutes later. "Are you ready to leave, George?"
He had only just received his scotch, but was up with his coat and hat before Mr. Baker could take a seat alongside him.
"You are not leaving already! You just arrived, Mary Elizabeth. And George, his drink, you must at least allow him to finish his drink. He works hard all day long and deserves a fine liquor once and a while. It is a very good scotch. George, take a seat and rest. Mary Elizabeth, you do the same," her father directed nicely with a smile.
It was Mary who spoke up. "I am sorry, Mr. Baker, but we do have to be going. It's getting late and we must put our daughter to bed." George was shocked, and stood mouth agape to hear his wife address her own father by his formal title.
Before George could find his voice, her father spoke up. "Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, you are to call me 'father'. For I have earned it, giving you your life and raising you in this house." Mr. Baker began choking on his words as he began to cry, "I know there are things I did in the past to you and George that are too horrible to mention, but that doesn't make me any less your father. God will punish my sins worse then you even could, I assure you, especially if your mother makes it to heaven before I. I'm asking your forgiveness and George's forgiveness, let us make our peace this night." Mr. Baker's eyes pleaded with her, and George could see that whatever malice he had carried in his heart was transformed into a sincere desire to do right for his only child and her family.
Too much had been done to her and to George for Mary to forgive this night, and so with her father on their heels, begging them to stay, they departed into the night and returned to Wendy.
"You were very unkind to your father," George began as they strolled to their modest home. "He wanted to apologize and be forgiven. You should have at least let him speak his mind."
Mary stopped on the street, turned to him, and held his hand to her heart. "George, how would you feel if you knew, in your heart, that I was doing something to our children, causing them immeasurable pain and suffering, then hiding behind the lie that it was in their best interest that they be made to endure the agony?" she asked.
"You would never purposely hurt our children, Mary," George responded, already uncomfortable with her question.
"That's not what I asked, George. I asked, if I were doing that to them, and you were there watching, what would you do?"
"I would defend them--" George began.
Mary interrupted, "To the death," causing her husband to step back from her while watching her carefully, attempting to see what lay hidden behind her eyes.
"Yes Mary, I would defend them to the death, no matter what I had to do to make you stop. I love you more than I love myself, but I will not tolerate you ever harming one of the children God and I have entrusted you with."
"You know what I would do if I thought you were slowly killing our children with greed for wealth? Showering lies and deceit about them? Sending them bills for debts never owed? Calling the constable on them for stealing something that is rightfully theirs? Forcing our only daughter marry a man she does not love? I would tell you that you were wrong, George. I would stand up for our children and fight you with word and deed, the same way you would if it were I. Most important of all, even if you controlled my every waking moment, if I thought you were wicked in your ways with them, I would find a way to help them without you ever knowing. I would make them see that I was not the enemy. And then I would do whatever I could to draw us all back together and be the family we should be." Mary pulled George into her embrace and rested her head upon his chest.
"I know that we stand together differently than my parents do, and for that I am thankful. I will honor and respect you because I believe in the goodness in your heart and I believe you do know best. And still, if I were convinced that you were wrong, I would tell you and then I would tell my children."
George wrapped his arm around Mary and guided her back into a slow stroll home, "What did your mother say to you, Mary, that is making you think of such things."
Mary leaned into his embrace holding her hands to her eyes to hide the tears that filled them. "My mother said her greatest regret in life was that she didn't defend me from my father and from my Aunt Millicent. She said, had she been a better mother, and not such a coward, she could have lived in the dreams she created these past two years of having a happily married daughter to spend her mornings with, drinking tea and chatting, along with a granddaughter she could watch running in the park and playing in her parlor all afternoon. But she wasn't brave. She was weak and let my Aunt Millicent and father lead her around by the nose. She said she did what she did because she loved my father more than herself, more than me, even after he spent years proving himself unworthy of the honor. Therefore, the only time we drank tea together, gossiping about the neighbors, and the only time she heard our Wendy call her Grandma was the fantasies in her mind. She made me promise to never do that to my own children, and to never let you do that to them either. I told her I didn't have to promise, for neither you nor I are monsters."
George nodded as Mary spoke biting he lower lip, "So I suppose there will never be peace with your father then, Mary?"
Mary nudged him purposely, causing him to trip and fall, and then helped him up, not having intended him to fall because of her playfulness. As she helped him tidy his coat and replace his hat, she replied, "My mother told me that she the last time she really spoke to him, they were arguing about me. I was still carrying Wendy. She told him that one day he would change his mind about us, about our family and he would be the one begging us to return to him and love him. When she is gone and he is without us, he will be old, alone and unloved. He told her she was crazy, and then he told her to shut up and mind her own business, adding he would never forgive me or my husband or my baby for that matter. She told him if he would not reconcile with us, and if he went on with whatever hell he was putting us in, we would never forgive him, and that was to make all the difference. You know, George, my father forgave us the moment he heard our daughter was born. Since my mother was never right about anything in her life, she asked me to make her right this time. She told me I can grant him absolution for his sins against us, but not until she was buried in the ground. That was her final request, and I will grant it so she will never have to see the day."
The next morning, after receiving last rites by Father Christopher, Mrs. Elizabeth Baker died of a broken heart. The day after that, she was lowered into the ground. Mary stood separate from her father with Penny, as she was let down into her final resting place. "Can I stop over your home tonight, Mary Elizabeth, and talk with you and George? Maybe even meet your beautiful baby daughter?" Mr. Baker asked kindly, holding his hat in his hand with his head lowered as if speaking to a Queen.
"Not tonight father, I will have to speak with George about it."
Her father asked when he should expect word, and Mary shook her head, "Maybe tomorrow." He took "tomorrow" as an invitation and paid his daughter and her family a visit in their modest home the next day.
Mary and George sat in their parlor, holding hands and listening to her father make his peace with them. He presented George with all the money, every single cent that had been paid to him from the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling their first year of marriage with interest. George accepted it graciously, and the next day put it into his risk-free investments.
Mary introduced Wendy to the grandfather she never knew, and she loved him just as much as he loved her. Just like he'd prayed for, Wendy bounded into the room and jumped up onto his lap dressed for bed and kissed his cheek. She fell asleep in her grandfather's arms, and as she made funny faces and puckered her lips in slumber, Mr. Baker watched on in awe. "She's beautiful, and I love her name. It brings back such good memories. It's a family name you know..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Mary retrieved Wendy and put her to bed. George eased his father-in-law's worries that this would be the last time he got to see his granddaughter with, "There is another on the way, and soon, you'll not only have a grandchild, but grandchildren to rest in your lap."
Thankful that little ones would be using his lap, Mr. Baker asked, "When?" The question was directed towards his daughter who reentered the room.
Mary simply responded, "May." All night long she only gave her father one-word answers. George, never one for small talk, stammered his way through supper, speaking of stocks and bonds and the activity of the market.
It was that night that Mary forgave her father, but did not forget what he had done. He was now "Grandpa Joe" to Wendy, and "Father" to Mary, and "Sir" (for now) to George. Although Mr. Baker would have preferred George use a more relaxed family title, the grin that fled Mary's lips when he told George he preferred "father", made him change his mind. "Call me Sir if you like, or you can use my first name, Joe, George. Call me anything, whatever makes you comfortable." George never called him anything else, preferring Sir just the same.
There was one thing George needed to learn about Grandpa Joe, something Mary was already all too familiar with. Mr. Baker was the king of his castle, and was very bossy at times, always insisting on being in control. That night, in the Darling's modest new home, he informed his daughter and her husband that they would immediately be moving back in to his house to live. He reasoned, "You will need a larger residence once the new baby comes, and my house is the best to raise a family in."
And so, with everything else from here to there, that was that. Grandpa Joe made good on the word he gave that night to be a better man, a better father and the best grandfather, and paid to move his daughter and her family out of their tiny cottage into his grand home out of his own pocket. "You can take your old room with George, Mary Elizabeth, and you can put Wendy in the smaller room next door. You can change whatever you like in the house, and please make this place your home. Move around the furniture, hang some new pictures, change the curtains, whatever you want."
Mary and George liked the house the way it was and changed nothing. "It's fine the way it is, father, thank you."
Grandpa Joe had forgiven them for running away and getting married, and was now delighted that they were both so happy together, but he still held tiny grudges against George that were never spoken. The first was for taking his only daughter to bed without a wedding ring on her finger. The second was for not being able to control his urges and getting her pregnant. (Mr. Baker had taken his wife to bed well before she wore white down the aisle, but was successful in keeping her unexpectant.) The third and most irritating was simply that George was not a commanding man. He was shy and reserved, which made Mr. Baker think of him as a wimp or sissy. George's only salvation was that Mr. Baker believed in his soul that his son-in-law would work nonstop to support his family until his heart no longer beat, and he would go hungry just so they could have food in the cupboards and a place to live. That he admired, and though he didn't like George that much, he respected him.
Mary loved George and respected him. Her father watched her beaming pride as she listened to her husband when he spoke. She often told him, "You know best, my darling." She never talked back to George nor gave him reason to be angry; she always presented herself like a lady and dressed the part. She always kept a clean house, and always had supper hot on the table when George walked in the door, serving him dinner first before any other guest at their table. Every night, while George read the paper in the parlor with the company of Mr. Baker, Mary gave Wendy a bath and put her to bed. Then she would descend the stairs and tell George she was to retire. He would put down the paper and follow behind her. Mr. Baker, once a newlywed man himself, would shake his head and drink his tea. He knew why George smiled in the mornings, even if Wendy couldn't figure it out.
Mr. Frederick Darling the Fourth went into the ground without ever speaking to his fourth son again. His three older sons buried him, then split whatever money he had left between them. The oldest son sent their mother from her home, and promptly sold it to repay their father's outstanding gambling debts to the loan sharks who showed up uninvited to his funeral. Where Mr. Baker saved every cent that George repaid, Mr. Darling squandered all that his youngest sent him, playing cards and drinking.
Mrs. Frederick Darling's other three sons never married, and blamed their mother for their bachelorhood. They moved on into their own lives and apartments elsewhere in the world, leaving their mother homeless. "George was always your favorite, Mother. Go live with him," they each told her coldly.
With nowhere to go but the grave, Mrs. Josephine Darling stopped by the Bakers' residence on the chance that they would know where to find her fourth son, George, and his family. Had it not been Christmas Eve that very night, George would have shut the door in his mother's face. But it was indeed that blessed night, and Mary insisted she come in and make merry on the holiday. George's mother made her peace with her son and his wife that night, and just like Grandpa Joe, Grandma Josephine met Wendy for the first time in her life. Even poorer than dirt, she was still a critical woman, and frankly informed George, "I would have thought that, being born of a beauty like Mary, she would be prettier. She is pale faced and thin lipped, nonetheless, just like her father. Let's hope the next baby takes more after its mother."
Wendy was the prettiest little girl in the world, and whatever George's mother said didn't matter, because it was Christmas Eve, the first Christmas George could provide the lifestyle he felt his wife worthy of. The Baker home, number fourteen, had become the new Darling Residence where anyone could find Mr. and Mrs. George Darling (The old Darling Home, that of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth was sold to a business that tore it down and built a law firm.) That Christmas Eve, they had a grand feast and opened presents and exchanged gifts. The family, George, Mary with child, Wendy, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine went to church for midnight mass and sat in the second row from the front. The next day they relaxed at home, Mary and George enjoying their family, Wendy her new toys, Grandpa Joe his new model ship that would require extensive amounts of time to build, and Grandma Josephine the fact that this would be the first Christmas in fifty years without her abusive husband.
As Grandpa Joe held tiny grudges against George, never liking him, but respecting him nonetheless, Grandma Josephine felt the exact same way for Mary, only from the other side of the picture. The first resentment was that she allowed George to take her to bed without a wedding ring on her finger. She was a virgin when she married, and felt no proper young lady should even know about the act until her wedding night.
The second one was simply for Mary not marrying the bigger fish. She thought Mary foolish for settling for her fourth son. George was not a commanding man, just as Mr. Baker himself thought. George was reserved, which made his own mother think that any women of good sense would see him as a coward. George was not a professional man like his brothers; therefore he was not as successful and accomplished. The bigger fish would have been the better choice. George was Mrs. Darling's favorite son. She made him that way purposely to dissuade any woman from wanting him as a husband and for Mary not to see that made her think her daughter-in-law either blind or stupid, or maybe something else.
The third grudge was the way Mary held herself around George. He was tame and soft spoken; yet she treated him like a king and sat him upon a throne. She never demanded anything from him, and she willingly let him "violate her womanhood," as Mrs. Darling called it whenever and however many times he liked.
"Mary, you should not lay down for George that way until he has earned it." Certainly not her place to say so, but she did often. By "earning it," she meant buying Mary expensive gifts and taking her to fancy restaurants and parties, as his father once did, knowing her fourth son would never do it.
Mary scoffed at her mother-in-law's advice, and then ignored it. "I do what I do to and for George because I love him and I want to be near him." George had told Mary he would never hit her, nor drink nor gamble, and thus far, he made good on his promise. That reason alone gained him her favor in life and in their bedchamber. He was good husband and good father and an even better man in Mary's eyes. She loved him more than her own self and tried her best to give him a happy home, filled with love and joy, and she showed Mrs. Darling just that, often.
As a result, Mrs. Darling liked Mary for being a good wife to her favorite son, and for letting her take a bedroom in their home. But she did not respect her.
It was a tight fit in the new Darling Home. George and Mary kept Wendy with them in Mary's old room, Mr. Baker kept his master bedroom where he spent his married life with his wife, and the older Mrs. Darling got the guest room. Aunt Millicent was still crushed over Mary's betrayal and never came by to visit. It cost a lot of money to feed the house and provide for everyone, and just as George always had, he manipulated the numbers and came up with a plan. He dipped into their savings only when he had to, and cut meat from their diet three days a week. He watched Mary and her condition closely as the spring arrived. He felt better that she was not alone at home, having her father and his mother as company. Her father helped with housework as George released their maid to save on their budget. His mother fell into the same melancholy that Mrs. Baker had, because now she too sat in the parlor and gazed aimlessly at the portraits that hung there, doing absolutely nothing.
Wendy liked Grandpa Joe. He would tell her stories of pirates and ships and all the characters he had met while a young boy. As she grew, it was he who told her every story should have a happy ending, and "always finish off with a kiss, people like to hear about kissing." Then he would give her a peck on the cheek and send her back to her imaginary world.
Wendy did not like Grandma Josephine. She was an angry woman who never smiled. Mommy always smiled, and Daddy always smiled at Mommy and at her. Growing up, she too would hear stories from Grandma Josephine, but no happy tales. Instead they would be about a wicked witch who was a no-good thief. In the end, she would either get tossed off a cliff into hot lava or be burned at the stake, either way there was fire involved. The part that hurt Wendy the most (aside from the fact that her grandmother named the innocent Prince who was tempted to eat the apple George, and the wretched old ugly witch Mary) was that the handsome and charming Prince always returned to the kingdom and named his mother Josephine the Queen.
Even though the stories were not real, to Wendy they were. It was because of Grandma Josephine's stories as a young girl; Wendy looked to her father and made her comparison. Her father was a bank clerk, he didn't seem strong or brave or handsome. Her mother was so beautiful and young, not wicked and nasty. It made no sense to her and as her emotions developed, she wondered whatever her mother saw in a man that was always more concerned with how much something costs than with romantic ideals, such as going after something you wanted and taking it. That was the only part of the stories she agreed with, "The wicked witch wanted to steal the prince away from his kingdom, so she just did, using her dark magic to make herself seem pretty and sweet." Wendy decided if she ever had to choose between being a fairy princess living in the shadow of the queen or the wicked witch who only got to enjoy one night with the prince, at least as a child, and then later again in her life, she too would get burned at the stake in the end.