The Point of Vanishing - Maryka Biaggio (large ebook reader TXT) 📗

leveled her gaze at Clark. “My attorney and I agree we do not want Barbara subjected to such an arrangement.”

Wilson scooted forward in his chair. “You mean my so-called immoral arrangement?”

“Yes,” Helen said, “that’s precisely what I mean.”

Wilson glared at her. “I’ve asked you repeatedly to divorce me on your terms or not stand in the way of me divorcing you. Your obstructionism only perpetuates the situation.”

Shepherd showed his palms. “Let’s restrict ourselves to the custody question for now. Technically, Barbara is still a minor, and it’s indisputable that Mr. Follett deserted the family in March of 1928 and had little contact with his daughter over the ensuing year and a half.”

Wilson leaned back into his chair. “That was an awfully trying period, and I understand it was especially hard on Barbara. The fact is, I can give her a home now—a permanent one.”

The insinuation in Wilson’s offer did not escape Helen. “You know nothing of what our life has been like all this time. Or of the agonies you’ve visited on Barbara.”

“Look, you’re the one who ran off to Hawaii and left her without any parent,” Wilson said.

“I was in Hawaii researching a book—for the simple reason that I must support our daughters, as you have failed to do.”

Wilson scrunched up a cheek in that superior way of his. “You don’t have much room to point a finger here. You planned to be absent for months. You only returned when I showed up. I’m perfectly comfortable taking Barbara in and providing her with a stable home, which you have failed to do.”

“And how can you support her now when you haven’t for the past year and a half?”

“I’m under contract for a series of articles with Atlantic Monthly.”

Shepherd waved a hand at Wilson. “Mr. Follett, the question here is what is best for Barbara. And my client and I agree it is inadvisable to allow her to live in an adulterous household.”

That should have put him in his place, but no, he shook his fist at her. “You, Helen, are the volatile and capricious one, whisking Barbara off on an uncertain journey and corrupting her with distorted depictions of the marriage. Sailing off to Honolulu proves you’re an unsuitable parent.”

“Why, you hateful man.” She could’ve slapped his face.

“Please, let’s take a break here,” said Shepherd.

Helen retreated with her attorney for a private conference. Shepherd explained it was the role of attorneys to manage such rancor; he assured her he’d not allow it to happen again. As for the business at hand, he recommended they let Barbara decide who she’d live with. This did not please Helen. She told him she feared Barbara, who’d not hidden her rebellious disdain for her, might choose her father out of spite. After all, Barbara didn’t always exercise the best judgment. Shepherd explained that the courts often advise that children of Barbara’s age have the right to choose. And if Barbara decided to reside with Wilson, she might discover that life with her father and a woman a mere six years older than herself didn’t suit her.

Helen reluctantly bowed to his recommendation, and the four of them reconvened and agreed: Barbara was old enough to know her mind. Neither parent would want to force her to reside with them against her will. Ergo, Barbara should be the one to make the decision, at least until the court entertained divorce and official custody arrangements.

That settled, the discussion turned to divorce negotiations.

After several minutes of upsetting banter about the possible grounds for divorce, Wilson’s attorney turned to Helen. “Mrs. Follett, do you, in principle, consent to divorce?”

She paused. What principle was involved here, she couldn’t say. She only knew that the possibility of divorce rattled her. She’d lost all respect for Wilson; she’d been his goat for too long. But she loved him. Imperfect as he was, she’d planned to spend her life with him. She’d dreamt of success, perhaps even fame, as his writing collaborator. He was the father of her children, and she wanted to make the family whole again. But she hated him for what he’d done to her and the girls. She wanted to hurt him. Why should he walk away from his family and run off with another woman without suffering any consequences? She couldn’t think how to respond to Clark’s question. She asked for a private conference with her attorney.

Shepherd explained the reality to her: She couldn’t ward off divorce indefinitely. Wilson had it in his power to force the matter. In all likelihood, his frequent moves had prevented him from establishing residence in any one state. But once he did, he could divorce her without much difficulty.

Helen told him she hoped to soon return to her other daughter in New Haven, whom Wilson had also neglected, despite his proximity to her. Would it matter if they resided in different states? No, he said, Wilson could divorce her from afar.

“Be that as it may,” she said, “I’m not prepared to capitulate at this point; I’ll face that eventuality when and if it comes. At present, I’m worried about the matter of finances.”

She explained that Wilson had borrowed $600 to get himself and that woman to Los Angeles, which meant he’d provide no help to his family as long as he was repaying the loan. Yes, Shepherd said, that’s a serious matter. Together they worked out a response that acknowledged her mixed emotions and bought some time. Upon rejoining the discussion, she announced: “I fail to see what benefit will accrue to me from divorcing a man who is unemployed, in debt, and has no prospect for a permanent source of income.”

All Wilson could say was, “I’ll certainly agree to any reasonable terms of support.”

“How can you possibly claim you can support anybody other than yourself and Miss Whipple? When you’ve done nothing but that since deserting your family?”

“You bear some responsibility for ruining my chances of employment.”

Helen asked, “Exactly how did I do that?”

“By speaking to Alfred Knopf and spreading