Well Behaved Wives(28)

When Ruth was a child, her father had joined her for tea parties as readily as chess matches. Would he have considered his time with Ruth to be babysitting if her mother had lived? She had no idea how involved her father had been as a parent while her mother had been alive. Had he regarded his time with her brothers as a chore? Ruth couldn’t fathom it. All she knew was that her father tended to all the siblings’ needs. She missed the idea of a mother more than she missed a mother she didn’t remember. But watching Irene with Heidi, Ruth wondered what picnics would have been like with her mother and what kind of a picnic she would have with her own children one day.

Heidi ran to the sandbox after two bites of her sandwich.

“She’s so sweet,” Harriet said.

“She is by far my easiest baby,” Irene said. “No colic. Slept through the night at four weeks, potty-trained by her first birthday. And to think she was an oops.” Irene blushed. “Eat,” she said, pushing a sandwich toward Ruth, seemingly embarrassed by what she’d called her child.

Ruth bit into the sandwich straight away, afraid Irene would fly it like an airplane into the hangar if she didn’t do it on her own. “Delicious.”

Harriet touched Irene’s arm, not willing to let that “oops” faux pas go. “You should say surprise.”

“Except nothing’s a surprise with your fourth. My body said, ‘Here we go again, Reen.’”

They all chuckled.

“You’re so funny,” Ruth said.

“In high school, I was voted most likely to become a comedienne.”

Another kindred spirit with career aspirations? Ruth felt a jolt of hope that she wasn’t the only one. “Is that what you wanted to be?”

“What do you mean?” Harriet asked before Irene could answer.

Ruth ignored her. “After high school, what were your dreams? Your plans? Did you want to be a comedienne?”

Irene’s laugh was hearty, as if the notion were outlandish, but it had a sweet undertone that wouldn’t offend Ruth. “Oh no, I wanted this. To marry Stephen, have babies, plan picnics.”

Barnard offered a top-notch, girls-only college education, yet even there, Ruth had met girls in high pursuit of the so-called M.R.S. degree, conferred upon those women who graduated not with a job, but with immediate prospects of becoming a wife. Her freshman roommate had snagged a Columbia junior and dropped out over Christmas break. Ruth had met Asher in college, but she would have never married him before graduating. She was different.

“You’re very good at all this. So much attention to every detail,” Ruth said, and she meant it. “But was there anything else you wanted to do?” How could this be enough for Irene? For anyone?

“Do you mean four kids and a husband isn’t enough?” Harriet’s words were clipped, her tone accusatory, as if Ruth had been caught crushing dreams instead of encouraging them.

“I was just wondering; I didn’t mean anything by it. Some girls do want jobs or careers, you know.”

Harriet crossed her arms. “I’ve met girls like you—all the independent women nonsense. Why would I want to take care of myself if there is someone who will take care of me? That’s not for me. I quit Wanamaker’s the day after we got engaged. Scotty wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Then why did you go to college?” Ruth asked.

“To find the best husband,” Harriet said.

“I wouldn’t have time for a job, let alone a career,” Irene said, smoothing things over. “When the kids are in bed and the housework is done, I do the books for the stores.”

“You do the bookkeeping? For all your stores?” Ruth asked.

Irene nodded. “I’ve always been good with numbers.”

Exasperation caused Ruth to stand. “Irene, that’s a job.”

“No, I’m just helping my family. What Stephen does all day with the stores is work. He’s earning money to provide for us, and he’s landing corporate business now. It’s stressful to schmooze and sell appliances all day, knowing you have a wife and four kids depending on you.”

“He wouldn’t have the life he has without you,” Ruth said. Why didn’t the girls see themselves as integral parts of the lives they lived? They had no one to teach them. Again Ruth was grateful for her upbringing.

“Of course not. Men can’t have babies.” Harriet’s tone partly suggested that Ruth was her intellectual inferior. It also suggested that Ruth was as annoying as a buzzing fly that needed to be swatted.

Ruth didn’t want to ruin the festive day by pushing too far. She sat down and rested her head in her hands. Everything went back to husbands and babies for these girls.

Irene seemed to notice Ruth’s discomfort. “What about you, Ruth?” she asked.

Ruth looked up, at first silenced by caution, then drawn by the lure of turning things over, giving them a surprise. She glanced at Irene, then at Harriet, then back to Irene. No. She wasn’t quite ready to divulge anything, so she simply shrugged. Best not to make more waves right now.

“You’re all talk, Ruth,” Harriet said. “You pretend to be so different from us. You’re the same.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Irene said.

Except Ruth wasn’t the same. She didn’t believe she was better, but her ambitions set her apart. “Okay. I’ll tell you, but you can’t say a word.”