“Piping.” Lois nodded. “And she wore no stockings either; the dress went to her knees, and it was just oh I don’t know— It wasn’t something you’d find anyone wearing up here. But do you know what bothered me the most about her visit? It was the fact that she only talked about herself. Oh, she asked a few questions about me—of course, she had found out most of the facts from the private detective—but she went on and on about—” Here Lois shook her head slightly. “Herself. Herself is what she talked about and how hard this had been on her.”
Lois leaned forward and then sat back. “So I know about her not sleeping, and how she would get depressed—‘get the blues’ is how she put it, I think—and I know about her husband’s death and her son; I knew that part from your book. Do you know she had the gall to talk to me about that man, her son? She raved about him, and, Lucy—I’m telling you—you would have thought he was the most brilliant scientist who ever lived. This was not what I needed to hear!”
Oh God, I thought. I said, “No, of course not.” Then I said, “Oh, it’s all she had at that point. Her son.”
“Yes,” Lois answered. “You’re right.” Her voice became quieter as she repeated “You’re right.” She glanced at her feet and then she said, looking up, “And I’ve thought about it since, and I think I might have shown her a little more compassion.” Lois’s face moved—I had to look away. Then she said, “But I will tell you—I got pretty sick and tired of hearing about her son. I really did.”
* * *
—
After a few moments, Lois spoke again. She said, “She had told her husband about the fact that she had had this baby—me—and had left me, she told the German man. Gerhardt. And she said it had caused trouble in their marriage.”
“So she told him?” I asked. “Did she say when she told him?”
“I’m not sure,” Lois said, “I really can’t remember, but it was somewhat early on, though not immediately. And all she said was that it had caused problems. I don’t know what she meant by that.”
Then Lois added, looking at me with her hand loosely held to the side of her face, “I’m surprised she never told you any of this.”
“Lois,” I said, “my husband didn’t know about you at all until just a few weeks ago.”
This evidently really surprised her. She took her hand off her face. “Is that true?” she said.
“It is,” I said. “His wife, right before she left him, gave him one of those subscription things to find your ancestors online and that’s how he found out about you. His mother never mentioned you at all—neither did his father. William never knew.”
Lois appeared to be taking this in. Then she said, “My word.” She shook her head. “Just a few weeks ago?”
“Yes,” I said.
Then she said, “Did you say right before his wife left him?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you left him. According to your book.” She glanced at the book on the table near her.
“Yes,” I said.
“So he’s had two wives leave him?”
I nodded. I wished I had not mentioned the part about his other wife leaving him.
After a few moments she said, giving me a quizzical look, “Is there anything—you know—anything wrong with him?”
I said, “I think he just marries the wrong women.”
But Lois said nothing.
I felt bad for William, sitting alone in the car while I talked to Lois. I said, “Would you like to meet him?”
And she looked at me with a sad, almost closed-down expression and I realized she did not want to. She said, “I’m sorry. I don’t feel up to that. I’m not young anymore, it’s been pleasant enough speaking with you, but I don’t wish to see him. No. I do not wish to meet him.”
“Okay,” I said. I made a move as though to get going and she stood up, so I knew we were through.
She walked me to the front door and pulled it open; it opened with some difficulty, as though it was not often used. And I thought of Catherine coming through it now so many years ago, and sitting where I had sat.
I turned to Lois, and she raised her hand and just very lightly touched my arm. She said, “When I read your book—your memoir—I was so surprised to see that it had to do with the potato farmer, my father! And I kept thinking, She’ll mention me in it, she will mention the fact that the woman left behind her baby daughter. But you never did.”