Chapter 31
From the Journal of Maisie McGinty March 10, 1938
I didn't get to know Van very well before he went off to war, but I'm starting to understand why Grace married him. He really is a nice guy. He made a point of telling me how much he liked the supper I made even though the roast chicken was dry as sawdust and the rolls were burnt. At least the squash turned out all right.
Van also said my piano playing afterwards was within respectable hailing distance of Fats Waller's. That means something coming from someone who, with his own eyes, saw Waller, Willie "the Lion" Smith, James Johnson, and Art Tatum compete in a cutting contest in a Harlem bar. When I told him that my mom taught me the piano, he replied that judging by the apple the tree must have been magnificent.
He wished he could have met her. So, do I. What I appreciate more than his kindness to me is that he makes Grace happy. I haven't seen her laugh and smile this much in a long time.
I'd love to have something like that cooking with Hub. Why does he have to be such a kluck. If I hear him say one more time what a pal I am or how much he misses Laura Bridgeman, I may brain him. At least he makes Catholic theology easy to understand. As much as I hate to say it, he may be meant to be a priest. I wonder if the letter I sent yesterday has made it to New York yet.
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
… I didn't know when Van anxiously asked Mother if he could speak to her about something important what he had in mind. He later told me that he hadn't expected to bring up the subject so soon because there were certain people in the house who didn't know the whole story. However, Maisie was at the hospital doing volunteer work and Juanita had gone to the movies to see Hollywood Hotel. Mother was understandably curious, especially when Van told her that he would have spoken to her earlier, but there were some things that he didn't want to talk about in front of Maisie and Juanita and this was the first night since his arrival that both were out of the house at the same time. "That sounds mysterious."
"It isn't." Van hesitated to speak for a moment. When he did there was deep regret in his voice. "I just want to say something that you have a right to hear from me personally. I know that what I did to Grace when I first met her was rotten and inexcusable. I know that I hurt her deeply … and it must have hurt you to see her suffering. I am truly sorry, and I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
"Forgive you?" Mother stared at Van intently and then spoke coolly. "I have nothing but contempt for the man who lied to my daughter, tricked her into a false marriage, and involved her in a swindle."
"Mother …" I protested.
Mother raised her hand and gave Van a beautiful smile as she continued to speak to him. "That man is no longer with us. I believe he died the moment you turned your back on your life as a confidence man and sought to atone. The man I see in front of me is a good man who has risked his life for others, a man who truly loves my daughter and has kept faith with her. That man needs no forgiveness. That man is welcome in this house and in this family."
Van returned Mother's smile with one just as beautiful. "Thank you. I know what a precious thing Grace's love is. It gave me the strength to be better than I was and to make it through this war. I swear that I will do whatever I have to for the rest of my life to be worthy of it."
… Lionel had been looking on unsurprised during the entire conversation. At the end, he was beaming with brotherly pride. Afterwards, I asked him if he had known what Van was going to say. He smiled. "Of course, I did. He apologized to me earlier for not being the kind of brother I could be proud of. I told him not to be so hard on himself. He tried to shield our sister and me from Father's iron hand and Mother's indifference when we were children. I don't know how we would have gotten through those days without him."
My brother-in-law's reminiscing made me pensive. "He hasn't talked to me much about those times, but I know he feels bad about leaving you two when he broke with your parents."
"He shouldn't," Lionel assured me. "I don't blame him for it. I did the same when I was old enough. I just wish Jane could follow our example, but even if she weren't terrified of displeasing her husband, she could never leave her children."
Lionel was suddenly silent. His eyes were filled with sadness. After a moment, I spoke. "And you've never seen them?"
"Only photographs." He answered with bitterness. "Van hasn't seen them either and when he was still a con artist maybe there was some justification for that. However, our stuffed shirt of a brother-in-law won't even let us send them Christmas presents. Jane has tried to talk to him, but the fact that Van has reformed and intends to repay his victims makes no difference to him."
From the Journal of Honey Sutton March 11, 1938
I had lunch with Chao-xing Yuen at the gazebo today. As we ate and talked, our sons played with the Yuen's dog Sue. It's hard to believe how fast they're growing. In a couple of years, they'll be going to elementary school together. Mr. Yuen heard from his father yesterday. He is well and there is no sign that the Imperial Japanese Army is going to resume the wholesale slaughter of civilians in Nanking. Nonetheless, he and his fellow survivors are still living under a harsh foreign occupation.
From the Journal of Maisie McGinty March 13, 1938
The news has been nothing but bad this week. The Fascists continue to push through Aragon towards the sea. There has been no word of Van's pals in the Mac-Paps and the Lincoln Battalion. Yesterday, just to make everything hunky dory, that crumb Hitler annexed Austria.
At least Lionel and my dad have gotten on like a house on fire. You'd think a high-toned swell from New York and an ex-con from the wrong side of the tracks wouldn't have much to say to each other outside of a Hollywood movie. In this case, you'd be wrong.
They're both keen on chess and Lionel is the first player since dad learned the game to pass the time in prison who can actually make him break a sweat. Dad is in awe of Lionel's stories about his classy antique store in midtown Manhattan and appreciates him not trying to chisel on the price of the writing desk he bought last week. Neither of us would ever have known it was an antique from the Regency.
Lionel has also shown respect for the hard work dad has put into the pawnshop, telling him that "I visit a lot of small shops looking for treasures. You never know where a good piece will turn up. Yours is one of the best I've seen. No garish junk. Just sturdy, tasteful, and reasonably priced merchandise. It may not be valuable antiques, but there are real bargains here for people who don't have that kind of money."
Lionel was at the pawnshop today to look at a new shipment of merchandise dad bought at an estate sale in Clayton Hill. While dad was behind the counter dealing with a customer, I got up the nerve to show Lionel the unopened letter that just came in the mail. I thought that he should be the one to open it in case it contained the good news I was hoping for. Inside was a reply to my letter to his dad-from his dad's secretary. "My employer wishes to inform you that he has no son named James Marshall III or Vanaver Mainwaring. Neither does he have a son named Lionel Marshall. He is sorry that you had to waste your time in a useless appeal on these men's behalf. He wishes you well but would appreciate it if you were to make no further attempt to contact him on this matter."
The letter was a real letdown. I remember how much I missed knowing my dad before he came back to me. I know it was a pipe dream, but I had to at least try to bring Lionel and Van back together with theirs. Lionel took it like a champ. He read the letter aloud and then smiled at me. "That was almost civil. Father must be mellowing in his old age."
Next Week: The Schmitz family past and present. Retreat to the Ebro. Franco's mercy.
