In Sunshine or in Shadow, page 1
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This book is dedicated to the real Nancy Van Horn, who was the high bidder in a fundraiser for the American Association of University Women. If this Nancy had been alive in Molly’s time she would certainly have been a suffragist. Also dedicated to Rhys’s friend Judy Gitenstein, who found interesting snippets for us on early days in the Catskills and double-checked all our facts.
One
New York, June 1908
“Bolivia,” Sid said.
“Bolivia?” Even Gus sounded surprised. “You want us to go to Bolivia?”
Sid nodded. “It’s about time we went somewhere exotic. We’re becoming staid and boring.”
I was sitting with my friends Elena and Augusta (more affectionately known as Sid and Gus) in their big comfortable kitchen on the other side of Patchin Place, enjoying our usual morning coffee together. They had added on a conservatory, and light streamed in between stands of exotic plants, the likes of which I had never seen back in Ireland. Today heat also came in through all that glass, and the kitchen felt steamy—a little how I imagined a tropical jungle would feel. Summer had come early to New York, and we were feeling the heat, which was why Sid and Gus were rushing to make plans for their usual summer exodus from the city. In other years they had chosen acceptable and normal destinations like Newport, Rhode Island, or Southampton. They had even ventured once to Europe, but Bolivia was quite unexpected.
“Why Bolivia?” Gus asked, trying to sound calm.
Sid shrugged, making her bobbed hair dance. “We’ve never been. It’s at high altitude, so it should be cool, and it’s different. Interesting people go there. Butch Cassidy went there.”
“To escape from the law and rob people,” Gus pointed out. “That’s hardly the same.”
“Well, he is an outlaw. We are respectable women.” She corrected herself. “Fairly respectable women.”
I had to smile at this. “But it’s awfully far away, isn’t it?” I was realizing how much I’d miss having my friends around for the summer. “How would you get there?”
Sid shrugged. “We’d take a boat.”
“Isn’t Bolivia landlocked?” Gus asked.
“So we take a boat and then a train.”
“There are trains? Not just mule trains going up the side of mountains?”
Sid frowned. “You seem to be making difficulties about this. Do I take it you’re not keen on the idea?”
“I think it needs more looking into,” Gus said diplomatically. “It doesn’t sound like a journey one could undertake lightly. And it would probably take so long to get there that we’d have to stay for months to make it worthwhile.”
“I hope you wouldn’t be away for months,” I said. “Who would I have my coffee with?”
“Well, perhaps Bolivia is a little too far away,” Sid said, picking up a croissant and idly tearing off a corner. “But I’m tired of all the normal places. Newport. Long Island. All so pretentious and bourgeois—and we do need to get out of the city before it gets too unbearably hot. One hears that there is typhoid again.”
I nodded. “Daniel told me. And not just in the tenements, but in a couple of middle-class households—houses with servants.” I leaned across to wipe an excess of jam from my son, Liam’s, mouth. He had been sitting, good as gold, on his little stool, working his way through his own croissant, piled by Gus with butter and jam. “Daniel has been on at me to leave the city for a while.”
“Then come with us,” Sid said with enthusiasm.
“Not to Bolivia, please.” I grinned. “I can’t see Daniel going for that! Actually, he’s been urging me to take the children to his mother in Westchester County for the summer.”
“You should go.” Gus nodded equally enthusiastically. “You are expecting, after all. In a delicate condition. You don’t want to take chances with a disease like typhoid.”
“I know,” I agreed. I had been walking on eggshells since I found out that I was truly pregnant this time. After a disappointing false alarm last fall, I had worried I was cursed and would never be able to have another baby, but now I was at least four months along. My cheeks were rosy, my belly swelling nicely, and I was starting to hope. “But if it’s a choice between risking typhoid and spending the summer with Daniel’s mother, I’m not sure which I’d choose.”
This made them smile.
“The children would love being in the country,” Gus said.
“Yes, I want to go to Granny’s,” Liam piped up, reaching for the last remnants of his croissant.
“Plenty of good fresh air and room to run around and being spoiled by your mother-in-law’s maid—what’s her name?” Gus continued.
“Martha,” I said. “She’s getting rather old and deaf. I think my mother-in-law’s training another new girl. Let’s hope there’s none of the drama as with the last one. Liam will love the country, but I’m not sure about Bridie. She’ll miss her friends. You know what it’s like when you are almost fourteen—life has no meaning if your friends are not around.”
Sid and Gus nodded sagely. They knew Bridie almost as well as I did.
“At least she has friends now, which is good,” Sid said. “She is finally fitting in at the new school and doing incredibly well in her studies.”
“Thanks to you two.” My friends were paying for my adopted daughter, Bridie, to go to a private academy for young ladies. Bridie had not found it easy mixing with the daughters of the Four Hundred at first but now had made a bosom friend and was generally accepted. She was blossoming into a lovely young woman with a bright future ahead.
“Perhaps we could take Bridie with us for the summer somewhere,” Gus suggested. “Then we could make sure she keeps up with her studies.”
I tried not to let my face show that I was against this. I loved this couple, but they exerted too much influence on my adopted daughter. She’d already tried to defy me and act in a manner that was too grown-up, thanks to the encouragement of those two ladies. After a summer with them, she’d be incorrigible.
“Well, Bridie’s not going to Bolivia, that’s certain,” I said. “Besides, I hardly see her during the school year. I’d enjoy her company, especially if I’m to be with Mrs. Sullivan for the summer.”
I jumped up hastily, grabbing Liam before he could take another croissant. “I think you’ve had enough. Let’s get you washed up, my lad,” I said. He started to walk out of the kitchen but froze at my stern, “Stop, young man! Wash those hands.” He made a face but complied. “I hope it’s a girl this time,” I said. “They must be easier than boys!”
“Don’t you believe it,” Sid said. “I was always a rebel. I got into such trouble when I tried to play baseball with the boys and I went swimming in my underwear. You should have seen the faces. I was only about eight at the time, but you’d have thought I was a brazen hussy in a burlesque show.”
We laughed. “I can just picture you doing that,” I said.
“My family didn’t approve of that sort of thing,” Sid said. “Very refined and staid.”
Liam’s footsteps heading down the hall toward the stairs told me it was time to go. “This one has too much energy,” I said. “Come on, Liam, we should be going home. Bridie has a half day at school today so that the new graduates can practice their procession. She says the talk has been about what they are going to wear all month.”
“Much more important than graduating with good grades,” Gus said dryly.
She had just finished speaking when the front door burst open and Bridie herself rushed in. Sid got to her feet. “Why, Bridie, what on earth is wrong?”
Bridie had a distraught look on her face, and her breath came in gasps, as if she had been running. “The worst thing in the world has happened,” she exclaimed. “I simply can’t bear it.”
Gus rushed over and put her arm around her. “Come and sit down, darling girl, and tell us all about it. Are you hurt?”
“My heart is broken. I’ll never survive,” she said, between sobs now.
“You didn’t get a bad grade on your English exam?” Sid asked.
“Much worse than that. Far, far worse than anything you can imagine, Aunt Sid.” She looked from one of us to the next. Liam was frozen in his tracks, unused to seeing his big sister in such distress.
“What’s the matter, Bridie?” he said, his little-boy face worried.
“So tell us, dear girl,” I said. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Was anyone cruel to you? Hurt you?”
Bridie shook her head fiercely, sending teardrops flying. “It’s Blanche,” she said at last.
“Blanche is sick?” Blanche was Bridie’s bosom friend at school. The two had been inseparable since a tragedy had struck Blanche’s family.
Bridie’s head shook again. “No, worse than that,” she said. “Blanche is going away for the whole summer. Her mother is taking her to Paris next week. I won’t see her again until the fall.”
I tried not to smile.
“You should be glad your friend has the chance to go to Paris,” Gus said kindly. “And the summer will pass very quickly.”
“No, it won’t,” Bridie wailed. “It will be an eternity. Trapped in this horrible city with nothing to do, just wishing Blanche was here.”
“We’ll find plenty for you to do,” Sid said. “We may take you with us to the mountains or the coast if Molly will let us.”
“Let’s just wait and see, shall we?” I held up a hand. “For now you should be happy for your friend, and maybe she’ll bring you a nice present back from Paris—a piece of Parisian fashion?”
I saw a brief flicker of interest in her eyes, but then she let out another great sob. “But what if she forgets about me? What if she makes a new best friend over there and when she comes back she won’t talk to me?”
“You two can write to each other all summer, and she’ll tell you exactly what she’s doing,” I said. “Now, come on home and let’s get Liam fed; then you and I will have our lunch.”
I led her away, still hearing an occasional sob. She spent the afternoon shut away in her room and did not reappear for a cup of tea. Knowing young girls, I let her brood and was just going up to tell her to buck up and come down for her supper when Daniel burst through the door.
“Holy Mother of God,” I exclaimed. “This must be the day for dramatic entries. Now don’t tell me your best friend is about to leave town?”
Daniel frowned. “What are you talking about, Molly? I came home as fast as I could. I want you out of the city right away. There is now typhoid on Tenth Street.”
“Tenth Street?” I said as he took off his hat and hung it on the hat stand in the hallway. “On our doorstep?”
“Well, closer to Fifth Avenue, but still close enough to be worrying.”
“And so strange,” I said. “Those are all highly respectable households, nothing like the cramped conditions of the East Side. I thought typhoid was a disease of dirt and overcrowding.”
Daniel nodded. “So did I, until this year. Now it has reared its ugly head in several unlikely places. All good neighborhoods. If it’s really in the air we breathe, as some are saying, I’d rather you were out in the country. I don’t want to take any chances with you in your current—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘delicate condition,’” I retorted. “Do I look in the least delicate?”
He examined me, frowning. “No, I can’t say that you do. Positively blooming, in fact. But we’ve been hopeful before; let’s not put it to the test. I’ll send a telegram to my mother today to expect you shortly.”
He headed past me, toward the kitchen. Conflicting emotions flooded through me. Much as I loathed the thought of a summer with Daniel’s mother, who enjoyed pointing out where I fell short of being the perfect wife for her only son, I did realize that typhoid only a street away from us was a serious matter, especially given my condition at the moment. But then, I had Bridie to think of. I grabbed Daniel’s arm. “Hold on a moment, Daniel. We can’t go before Bridie finishes her school term. It wouldn’t be right. She has to experience prize day, and she’s performing in a Greek dance.”
“She could maybe stay with your friends across the street if you and Liam go now?” he suggested.
“You were the one who didn’t want my friends to have too much influence over her, remember?” I said. “No, we’ll wait and go together at the end of next week. It will take me a while to organize and pack for a whole summer—and I promise, until then I’ll be extra vigilant. We’ll send Aileen out to do the shopping, and I’ll even keep Liam away from the park, much to his annoyance, I’m sure.”
Daniel sighed. “Very well. If it must be. I suppose it’s only fair to give my mother time to prepare rooms for you. Martha isn’t as strong as she used to be. Mother has been talking about hiring and training a new girl. This should spur her to do it.”
“Exactly how long do you expect me to stay away?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“Maybe for the whole summer. Until the weather cools down.”
“The whole summer?” Now my voice was definitely not even. “And what about you?”
“Well, I have to stay here, of course. I’ll try to come up and visit on my days off. It’s what plenty of husbands are doing these days.”
“But, Daniel”—I put a gentle hand on his arm—“who will take care of you? Cook your meals? Wash your shirts? I suppose I could leave Aileen down here. She does quite a decent job around the house, although her cooking leaves a lot to be desired.”
Daniel shook his head. “That wouldn’t be right, Molly. Me alone in the house with a young girl? There would be talk. I’d be risking her reputation. No, Aileen must go with you. Besides, you’ll want help with Liam, and she can also be of use for Martha. She’s a willing-enough little thing.” He looked around. “Where is she, by the way?”
“Giving Liam his bath. She really is wonderful with him. And he adores her. We were lucky to get her.”
“So that’s settled, then.” Daniel took his place at the kitchen table, as if awaiting his supper. “You’ll leave next week. I’m glad.”
“But what will you do? Who will look after you?”
“I’m a big boy, Molly. I can take care of myself. I did before we were married and I’m sure I can do it again. I’ll take my main meal in the police cafeteria, and I’ll send my shirts and underwear to the laundry.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
It appeared there was nothing more to say. The reasonable side of me knew that I should take every precaution because of the child I was carrying. My last pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage, and it had taken me a long while to conceive again. I couldn’t take any chances if I wanted another baby. And it wouldn’t be so bad, I told myself as I watched Daniel eat his way through a meat pie and cabbage. The countryside was pretty. I could help with the garden, pick vegetables, take Liam to see farm animals. I’d make the best of it.
Two
I could have predicted that the news would not go down well with Bridie. She was already in emotional distress about the departure of Blanche. When she heard we were to go up to Westchester County right after the graduation ceremonies at her school, we had another flowing of tears.
“The whole summer? Mama, you can’t mean it. Who will I have to talk to? Nobody. There will be nobody for miles around who is my own age. I’ll be stuck with you and Liam and two old women.” Her curls bounced as she shook her head. She had turned before my eyes from a waif of a girl into a pretty young lass with large blue eyes and blond curls. Luckily, she didn’t know how pretty she was, and I wasn’t going to tell her.
“I don’t suppose many of your school friends will stay in the city for the summer.”
“I suppose not,” she agreed. “I know Julia goes out to their estate on Long Island, and Helen is going to Maine. And some other girls are going to Europe too.”
“Lucky them.” I smiled. “I’m afraid you have to accept the fact that Aunt Sid and Aunt Gus are sending you to a school where most people have a lot of money.”
“I know.” I saw her shoulders droop. “But they’ll all be going somewhere exciting. I’ll be so bored.”
I tried to stay patient, not always easy for me. “You can maybe do some of the things the ladies across the street are always urging you to do—take up painting, or write a story, or Grandma Sullivan can teach you embroidery.”
Bridie rolled her eyes. Then a sudden smile spread over her face. “I could stay with Aunt Sid and Aunt Gus, couldn’t I? They’d love to have me.”
“Your aunts are planning to go away for the summer too. Last thing I heard, they were talking about Bolivia.”
Bridie frowned. “Bolivia? You mean the country? In South America?”
“The very same.”
“Why do they want to go there?”
