Going Home - Stressful Times

It took much of the summer to get the new house ready for us and hire a caretaker for the property. We moved in mid-August and quickly got comfortable. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do about the old house. Eventually, I offered it to one of the new PhD candidates that already had a family. Though I didn't need the money, I collected the same rent, including utilities they'd have paid for one of the much smaller apartments they considered.

It soon became clear that my father had misread the Pentagon's intention to pressure me into signing on to their project. Paulette was deported in late July. It wasn't pretty. I spent a small fortune on legal fees fighting the deportation order to no avail. At most, the lawyer delayed it a week. Paulette had never violated the terms of her visa, but it didn't matter. The twins cried and held onto her tightly the morning she said goodbye. Gwen and I had to pry them off her so she could leave when the immigration officer picked her up. I made sure to get her parents address so I could reach out to her in the future.

Since I'd received no responses to any of my inquiries about post-doctoral work, I insisted that I could take on care of the twins until we found someone to take Paulette's place. While I had spent considerable time caring for the twins, I was still nervous about it. I did my best to hide it, but I sensed Gwen worried, too.

It turned out that Gwen needn't have worried about how capably I'd care for our children. A week before the fall semester began, Gwen got a call from her department head. Apparently, there was some sudden concern within the administration that Gwen would be unable to manage her studies and care for our children. She was suspended from her program until such time as she could prove her children would not be a distraction. She got no guidance about how she could prove it. Her appeal was denied, with a comment to the effect that a mother belonged at home with her young children, not in a lab.

I was livid. I had been negotiating with the school to endow a chair in the Physics Department. I instructed my attorney to break off negotiations. I hung up if someone from Tech called. The Physics Department chair, the Chemistry Department chair, and the president showed up at the house late one afternoon, unannounced. I asked if they were there to reinstate Gwen. They looked at each other for a moment, then asked if they could come in and talk. I pointedly told them there was nothing to talk about unless Gwen's suspension was lifted. After their visit, I began keeping the gate closed.

Just after school started, I got another call from Mrs. Messenger, Dr. Tenney's secretary, asking me to meet with him again the following week. I told her I would get back to her later that week.

Gwen, Mike and I sat to discuss the developments. It was obvious, at least to me, that this was all due to my refusal to go to work at JPL. After discussing our options, Gwen asked if I had any interest in working at JPL. I told her the prospect of working there was intriguing, but I had no desire to work under Duren's heavy-handed, oppressive, and secretive management again. Gwen agreed that I shouldn't knuckle under to the pressure. Though my professional career was likely to suffer as a result, and Gwen's was probably over, I called Mrs. Messenger and declined Dr. Tenney's invitation.

Gwen and I took the twins and drove east for a visit. Mike wrapped up the last few open activities on her immediate schedule and left a week after we did, taking a train to Boston. We spent a little over a month in Massachusetts. We spent most of the visit at the country house though we did stay a week at the Beacon Hill house. Mike spent the visit at her parent's home but traveled back with us when we drove back in late October.

With Gwen no longer in school, at least for the foreseeable future, I saw no reason to delay Mike's motherhood. I broached the subject with Gwen before talking to Mike about it. She agreed and the three of us sat down to talk. The ground rules were simple. Mike and I had carte blanche to have sex whenever the impulse struck her. Gwen teased that she hoped she wouldn't be left out while Mike and I tried to conceive. Though she said it light-heartedly, I knew I should treat it as a potentially serious problem.

Gwen had gotten pregnant easily. In fact, too easily. Accidentally. Mike would be another matter. We were getting concerned when Mike still wasn't pregnant when the calendar turned to May 1950. But in mid-June, Mike came back from a doctor appointment. I didn't hear Mike return because I was watching the twins play in the backyard. My first clue of good news was a loud shriek, followed by two women squealing like adolescent girls that had been asked to their first dance by the boys they liked. I smiled to myself, knowing that I'd soon be told I was about to become a father again.

Mike, Gwen, and I sat and talked extensively over the next few days. We needed to inform our respective parents as soon as possible. I didn't look forward to any of those conversations.

When my father returned from his absence, he seemed distracted. Something was bothering him, but he denied anything was going on when I asked what was wrong. Whatever was distracting him went away when I told him he had another grandchild on the way. He grinned widely and asked the due date. I told him the baby was due in mid-February. Jane was excited, too. I took a deep breath and told them the rest. It was Michelle that was pregnant, not Gwen. Yes, I was the father. Gwen was not only aware of it, she approved. Mike wanted me to be the father and Gwen had agreed to it without hesitation. Gwen was happy, supportive, and as excited as Michelle was.

Jane got very upset. My father maintained his usual calm, though I could see the wheels turning. He nodded at Jane and rubbed her shoulder. She left the room, tears streaming down her face when he asked her to let us to talk.

'I'm sorry I upset Jane,' I apologized.

My father didn't speak for a moment. 'How long has this been going on?' he asked pointedly.

'Mike has been trying to get pregnant since November,' I answered.

'That's not what I mean, Jonas. How long have you been sleeping with Michelle?' he asked. 'Your living arrangements have always been . . . unusual. I must admit I've had some questions, but I didn't think it was likely that you and Michelle would be . . . involved while living with your wife.'

'It's both more and less complicated than that,' I answered hesitantly. 'Do you really want to get into a discussion about this subject?' I asked. I didn't and suspected my father didn't really want to either.

'I suppose not. When are you going to tell Michelle's parents? How about Gwen's?' he asked. 'You can't keep it a secret long, Jonas.'

'Michelle is wrapping up some things at work and then we're all going to Massachusetts for a while. We plan to tell them when we get there,' I answered. 'I'm not looking forward to it.'

'You shouldn't be. Ian Kenrick has a temper. He'll consider this a betrayal of his daughter. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes for that conversation. I imagine it will break Edith's heart. I don't know Michelle's parents that well. But I can't imagine they'll be happy, either.' My father hesitated for a moment. 'Why did you do this, Jonas? You do understand what people will think?'

'I did it because Mike asked me to. She and Gwen had already discussed it extensively before they approached me. But the short answer is because Gwen and I love Mike and want her to be happy.'

'I've never seen or heard of her seeing anyone. Does she date?' he asked.

'Not anymore. She told us she has what she wants with us.' My father shuddered briefly when he heard that. It was the first time I ever saw a reaction that suggested something truly upset him.

'You should go home. I'll try to explain this to Jane. It might be better if you're not here,' my father told me.

I left for home immediately. Seth and Sara were napping. Gwen was busy packing clothes for the twins for the drive to Massachusetts. 'Mike called earlier. She'll be done at work tomorrow afternoon. She said there's nothing on her schedule for the foreseeable future. We can leave Thursday morning if you're ready to go.'

I kissed Gwen and left again to go the bank to get some cash and to the post office to have our mail forwarded to the country house. Mike was home when I returned and had begun getting organized to pack.

Gwen called her parents to tell them when we'd be leaving. Mike called hers and did the same. We left after breakfast Thursday morning. The drive to Massachusetts was mostly uneventful. Until the third day on the road. The five of us were in a diner when the news of the North Korean invasion of South Korea was announced on the radio. We were all aware of the unsettled political situation in the Koreas but only vaguely. It was far away. None of thought there was an appetite for another war after the carnage of WWII.

We got to the country house just before lunch and unloaded the car with Mr. Purdy's help. I detected a raised eyebrow when I told him Mike's bags were coming in, too. But he didn't say anything. Mr. Purdy had stocked our larder, so we took time for a quick lunch. Over lunch we discussed where we should go first. We decided to visit with Gwen's parents first, since they were just down the road. Then we would take our leave and go see Mike's parents.

The discussion with Ian and Edith went better than I expected. Ian's reaction fell short of the SS Grandcamp explosion, but just barely. He glared at Mike and I. He ranted for about twenty minutes, then stormed out and went to his studio. Edith was fighting back tears but otherwise maintained her composure. Edith was ruled by her emotions and affection for her family. But to her dying day, I never saw her truly lose her temper or her composure. We talked with her for a while and made sure she understood that Mike wasn't pregnant because I cheated on Gwen. We had discussed it extensively, weighed all the factors, and did it with our eyes open. We understood the social implications but decided to proceed anyway. She had calmed down considerably by the time we left for Mike's parents. Edith promised to talk to Ian. While I appreciated her efforts, I worried about how that conversation might go.

The conversation with Mike's parents was completely different. I'd only met Gary and Betty Dickens a few times. And while we had been on friendly terms, I wasn't nearly as close to them as Gwen was. They took it surprisingly well. I don't believe they were happy that their unmarried daughter was pregnant by a married man and had done it intentionally. They listened calmly while we described how we discussed Mike's desire to have a child and why we finally agreed to proceed. There was no explosion or apparent hostility toward me. I chalked up their grudging acceptance to two factors. They were going to have the grandchild they hoped for, even if the circumstances weren't ideal. And they had lived a rather Bohemian existence in Paris among the Lost Generation for several years before returning to the States after Mike was born.

The next month was stressful at best. We spent more time than previously with Mike's parents, and I got to know them better. We didn't avoid Ian and Edith but my interactions with Ian remained tense. His demeanor was chilly, bordering on hostile. I tried three times to talk with him in private. But he just glowered at me and told me to leave his studio. It was Ian's sister that finally managed to break through Ian's anger. I don't know what she said to him, but Edith had told Gwen that Alice showed up unannounced and violated the sanctity of Ian's workshop. Gwen told me her mother claimed she heard them arguing from her garden.

I was home alone when Ian showed up at the house with 5-gallon pail of ice and cold beer the afternoon after his argument with Alice. There was still an underlying current of anger, but it had tempered somewhat. I let him in. He looked around and then turned and went back onto the porch and took a chair. He motioned for me to join him. I sat, hesitantly. I wasn't sure drinking beer with someone as angry with me as he was was a good idea.

He took two beers out of the chest and took a church key from his pocket to open them. He handed one to me and took a long draw on his. He looked over at me and asked directly, 'Did you cheat on my daughter with her best friend?'

'No,' I answered without elaboration.

'Edith tells me that all three of you cooked this up together because Mike wanted to have a baby. That's not just a story made up to hide what actually happened?'

'No.' I didn't elaborate again.

Ian made a motion with his hand to indicate I should drink up. I took a pull on the bottle, but he wasn't content with that. He again indicated I should drink. I emptied the bottle and he ceremoniously popped the caps off two more beers.

Over the next hour, we talked, between beers, and cleared the air. I told him how Mike's pregnancy had transpired. I was open about all of it. I left out the fact that Gwen, Mike, and I had become sexually intimate when I met Mike in Paris and the three of re-established the relationship when Mike joined Gwen in California.

By the time Gwen and Mike returned with the twins, Ian was shit-faced and I wasn't in much better shape. We also seemed on the way back to a normal relationship between a father and his son-in-law. We didn't quite get there, but we'd come a long way that afternoon. I knew, eventually, we'd be okay again. But our relationship had changed. Ian was in no shape to drive when he decided to go home. Gwen and Mike loaded Ian into the bed of his pick-up and drove him home. I understand Edith had to help them get him into the house and into bed.

Mike's morning sickness began one Friday in early August. The same day our mail caught up with us. I was in Boston at the foundry, helping Ian to load a sculpture on his pick-up to bring back to his studio for the finishing touches. Gwen and Mike went through the box of mail the mailman dropped. When I got back late that afternoon, it was clear that both Gwen and Mike had been crying. Their eyes were bloodshot. The area below their eyes was puffy and red. Their noses were red and irritated from blowing their noses. I asked what was wrong, fearing someone had died. As far as Gwen and Mike were concerned, I wasn't far from wrong.

Gwen pointed to an envelope on the dining room table and ran from the room and up the stairs. I could hear her sobbing in the bedroom. I picked up the envelope. It was addressed to me and was from the Selective Service Agency. I opened it and read the letter inside. I had been directed to report to the Selective Service center in Los Angeles for an induction physical. I was already three days late.

Mike tended to the twins while I tried to console Gwen. I told her it was too early to worry. Perhaps I'd flunk the physical or get a deferment because I had young children. I could tell she didn't buy it. Gwen, Mike and I spent the weekend together. The women split their evening between bouts of nearly uncontrolled crying and making love with me. The twins were upset and cranky all weekend. They sensed something was wrong and it upset them. By the time Monday morning arrived, the three of us were exhausted. Gwen and Mike remained on the verge of emotional breakdown all weekend.

I made my way to the Selective Service office in Boston right after breakfast Monday morning. The sergeant that met me tried to direct me straight to the area where physicals were being performed. I told him he needed to read my letter first. He looked it over quickly.

'You're in a bit of trouble. You're almost a week late. And why are you here? You're supposed to report in Los Angeles.'

I explained that my family had come to Massachusetts for the summer and our mail had just caught up with us. He led me down a hallway and turned me over to a senior NCO, briefly explaining my situation before he left. The senior NCO picked up the phone and made a call. After a brief conversation full of jargon that I didn't understand, he hung up and turned his attention to me.

He filled out some forms while I stood in front him, wondering what was going to happen.

He handed me some paperwork. 'Come back Thursday morning. Be here at oh six hundred, promptly. That's six AM in case you don't know what time that is. Bring a change of clothes and your toiletries for an overnight stay. Don't be late, this time. Get your affairs in order between now and then.' He waved his hand in dismissal.

I went straight to the Simon, Bailey, Perkins, and Thompson law offices. I introduced myself to the receptionist and asked to speak to John Perkins.

'Is he expecting you?' she asked politely after looking at a sheet of paper. 'I don't see you on his schedule.'

'If you'd be so kind as to tell him I'm here, I'm sure he'll take a moment to talk to me.'

She picked up the phone and spoke briefly to someone named Mavis. When she hung up, she said, 'Have a seat. Mr. Perkins will see you in a few minutes. He's in a meeting.'

Perkins came out a few minutes later and greeted me warmly. 'Jonas, it's good to see you. Is everything is okay? I wasn't expecting you. Come, let's go to my office.' He stopped at his secretary's desk after telling me to go in and have a seat. He joined a few minutes later.

'What can I do for you, Jonas?' he asked, taking on a more businesslike tone.

'I'm about to be drafted. I need a will and I need it done quickly.'

Perkins took a notebook from a drawer in his desk and grabbed a pencil. We spent the next hour detailing how my assets would be distributed in the event of my demise. I made provisions for Gwen and the twins, Mike and her unborn child. I also provided a significant sum to the TaiBay Foundation, specifying how the money was to be managed and acceptable uses for it.

At the end of the conversation, I said, 'This needs to be ready for my signature no later than Wednesday afternoon. I'm due at the induction center Thursday morning. I need to wrap this up before I leave Boston, which will probably be Thursday afternoon.'

'I'll put Ethan Davis and two associates on it right away. We'll have it ready for you. How does five-thirty Wednesday sound?'

'I'll make it work. I assume you have to talk to the Williams-Davis Group regarding some things? I asked.

'Yes. There are estate management and transfer concerns in the event of your death. Who's your contact?' he asked.

'Mr. Jansen.' I responded. 'I'm going there directly. I'll tell him to expect a call from Mr. Davis.' I stood, thanked him for accommodating me, shook hands with him and went on my way.

When I got to the Williams-Davis Group's garage, Jansen was already waiting for me by the elevator. He led me to his office, offered a seat and asked if I wanted coffee. I declined.

'Mr. Perkins called and told me to expect you. How can I be of service?' he asked.

'I'm about to be drafted. Mr. Davis will be in touch to discuss any issues related to the will he is drafting. Please cooperate with him fully. I want to make sure my wife has access to my account while I'm in the service.' I told him succinctly.

'She's not with you today?' he asked, though since he met me at the car, he already knew she wasn't.

'No. I'll bring her by on Wednesday.'

'I'll have all the paperwork ready. You want her to have access to all your available funds?' he asked.

I thought for a moment. 'She should have access to the savings and checking accounts.'

'That's a great deal of money. Are you sure?' he asked.

The question annoyed me briefly, but I quickly realized it was a question he had to ask. I didn't hesitate. 'Yes.'