Stella Bain (16 page)

Etna lightly scratches the back of her hand. Everything Mr. Bates has said is true. She has struggled to understand how it was that she did not write to her children. Hastings has told her she must think hard about her answer when he asks her this question on the witness stand.

“Hold on, there, Mr. Bates,” says the judge. “As far as I know, this is not a simple case. Did I not just say as much? There may be good reasons why the case should be heard by the court. Or there may not. I cannot determine that at this time.”

“But, Your Honor, even if the case were to be heard and mitigating reasons for Mrs. Van Tassel’s absence found, which will not happen, how could the state ever trust the woman to be a steady parent again?”

“You make a good point, Mr. Bates. I hope to have the answer to that question during this hearing. Mr. Hastings, call your first witness.”

Counsel for the Relator calls Dr. John Hobson Gile to the stand.

“Dr. Gile,” says Mr. Hastings, “thank you for coming today. I know you are a busy man.”

Dr. Gile nods. Etna is surprised to see her employer in Newport, the county seat, some twenty-five miles from Hanover.

“Dr. Gile, can you tell the court what you do for a living?”

“I am head of the surgical department of the Mary Hitchcock Memorial Hospital. I am also a professor of anatomy at the Dartmouth Medical School.”

“You are acquainted with Etna Van Tassel, are you not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“In what capacity?”

“I hired Mrs. Van Tassel to make detailed drawings of our surgical procedures while we are performing them. These are extremely valuable as teaching tools.”

“Etna Van Tassel is in the operating theater with you?”

“Yes. It is quite unusual to find someone who has frequently witnessed surgical procedures and therefore will not flinch at the sight of open anatomy—and who is at the same time an expert draftsman. Draftswoman, I suppose I should say.”

Mr. Hastings smiles. “And how would you describe her demeanor and her work?”

“She is dependable, easy to work with, and meticulous in her renderings. Her drawings are extraordinary, and, indeed, I intend to see that they are published in a book about surgical procedures.”

“How did it come about that you hired her?” Mr. Hastings asks.

“She came to me, actually. She showed me a dozen drawings of doctors engaged in surgery at the hospital camps to which she was attached while she was serving in the war abroad. I was very taken with their precise execution and, to be frank, their beauty, even though the subject matter was—how shall I say…quite raw. I asked her if she had ever attended a surgical procedure, and she said she had done so dozens of times. I did not query her too much on her reasons for having left the country and served abroad. It was not unheard of at that time. I asked her to attend a surgery the following week and do a drawing for me, explaining that I would then decide if I could use her.”

“And you were happy with the results of that trial?”

“Extremely.”

“How long has she been in your employ?”

“Nearly a year now.”

“If you do not mind my asking, how much does Mrs. Van Tassel earn per drawing? Or does she have a salary?”

“I recently offered her a salary of eight hundred dollars per annum for her services. I asked her to sign a contract, as I did not want to lose her.”

Etna was relieved when he offered it to her. To have a contract of employment can only help her case.

“Have you ever had occasion to speak with Mrs. Van Tassel on matters other than surgery?”

“She works on Mondays, which is when we schedule many of the procedures for the week. She returns to my office on Friday afternoons to deliver her work. During those meetings, we have sometimes chatted, as colleagues will do.”

Mr. Hastings, Etna can see, is visibly pleased with the word
colleagues.

“Did she ever, during that time, mention her children to you?” the lawyer asks.

“Yes, she did. I believe we spoke about our families. I recall vividly her pride at telling me that her daughter, Clara, had been accepted at secretarial school in Boston.”

“Did you talk of other matters?”

“I’m afraid I queried her at length about her time in the war. One rarely has a chance to speak with someone who has actually been in the hospital camps.”

“Did she ever talk about her son?”

“Nicky? Yes, several times. Recently she mentioned that he was having a good time playing baseball at the Hackett School.”

“Dr. Gile, would you recommend Etna Van Tassel to any of your colleagues at other hospitals?”

Dr. Gile bends forward as if to make his point better heard. “I would recommend Mrs. Van Tassel to any colleague anywhere, indeed to any employer anywhere. She has been a gift to Mary Hitchcock Memorial Hospital, and we hope she will remain with us for a long time.”

“Thank you, Dr. Gile.”

“Mr. Bates, do you have any questions for this witness?” asks the judge.

“Not at this time, Your Honor.”

“Very well, Dr. Gile, you may step down.”

Counsel for the Relator calls Alice Beaumont to the stand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Beaumont,” Mr. Hastings says pleasantly.

“Good morning.”

“You are Mrs. Van Tassel’s landlady, are you not?”

“I have a house in Grantham. After my husband passed away fifteen months ago, I found the place too big for one person. And so I advertised for a woman of good deportment.”

“That would be the woman you see behind me.”

“Yes.”

“What sort of tenant, if you don’t mind my using the word, is Mrs. Van Tassel?”

“Well, the best sort, really. The rent is always on time, if that’s what you mean.”

“Does she ever mention her children to you, Mrs. Beaumont?”

“Mention them? I should say so. I have met them both.”

“Objection,” Mr. Bates says, standing. “Were these supervised visits?”

The judge addresses Mr. Hastings. “Were they supervised?”

“No, Your Honor, because there has never been any need for supervision. Both children visit willingly.”

“Does Mr. Van Tassel know of these visits?”

“I cannot answer that question. Clara comes when she can, though the geographical distance between mother and daughter is very great. As for Nicky, I believe Mrs. Van Tassel makes arrangements with the headmaster of the Hackett School.”

Etna remains completely still. She has been told by Mr. Hastings that by bringing the custody suit, she risks being banned from ever seeing Nicky again. Van Tassel can, and doubtless will, if he wins, forbid meetings between Etna and her son. At best, all she can hope for in that case would be supervised meetings. For a week after she was told this fact, Etna barely slept, going over the pros and cons endlessly as she sketched and drove and walked. She does not believe that Nicky should remain in boarding school any longer. He needs a mother’s close supervision, and for that, she must have custody. On the other hand, if she had done nothing, she might have been able to continue seeing her son when he was free, as she has been doing.

The judge asks Mr. Bates if he has any questions, and again Mr. Bates says he does not.

“Very well,” says the judge. “You may step down, Mrs. Beaumont.”

Counsel for the Relator asks to read aloud a letter from Captain Richardson of the Royal Army Medical Corps.

“May I have a copy of this letter?” the judge asks.

“And I,” Mr. Bates insists. “Your Honor, I object to the reading of letters from people not willing to show themselves in court.”

“Mr. Hastings?” asks the judge.

“This is from a captain in the Royal Army Medical Corps who works as a surgeon at Camiers hospital number four in France, and I think even the court would agree that it would be impossible at this time to request Captain Richardson’s presence in this hearing room.”

“Objection overruled.”

Mr. Hastings distributes copies of the letter. Etna is once again surprised by her lawyer’s enterprise. Though she gave him the names of the institutions in which she had served, she did not know that Mr. Hastings had done such detective work.

“The date of the letter is April thirtieth, 1918. I shall begin.

“Dear Mr. Hastings,

“I was much surprised to receive your letter. The woman you wrote of was known to us as Etna Bliss. I am sorry to hear that she is involved in a custody dispute. I know firsthand that she wanted more than anything when she was with us at Camiers to return to her children. I recall specifically a morning quite early in her stay with us when she came to me asking to be dismissed from her position so that she could return to America to see them. I must say I did not take kindly to this request. I pointed out to her that she had signed a contract for one year of service in return for her training, and that all of us had children we would dearly love to see again. I was, I think now, a bit harsh with her. But the point was that we simply could not spare her.

“I will not distress you with a description of life in hospital camps in France, but I can tell you that Etna Bliss was a most valuable asset to our work, ready to step in at a moment’s notice when needed. In those months, it was not uncommon for personnel to be asked to undertake tasks they had little training for. In Miss Bliss’s case, I recall asking her if it was true she could drive a large car (she had written this on her original application), and when she said yes, I asked her to drive an ambulance for us, since driver attrition at that time was dreadful. I think I may have told her that. If I did, I am now doubly impressed by how ready and willing she was to take on this role. There was an occasion in January of 1916 when she demonstrated exceptional bravery by leaving the designated route back to camp with an ambulance full of wounded during an unexpected bombardment. I regret that I did not on that occasion applaud her actions publicly, though if you have gotten to know the woman at all well, you will understand that she would not have wanted that sort of attention.

“We were surprised and alarmed when it became clear that she was no longer with us in March of 1916. I was thus happy to hear from one Dr. August Bridge that Etna Bliss was now well and living in America.

“I should like to express at this time the gratitude of an entire nation to the United States for its considerable contribution to our war effort.

“I wish Etna Bliss and you well in this legal matter, and I hope for a swift and happy conclusion.

“Yours sincerely,

“Captain Angus Richardson”

Counsel for the Relator asks to read a letter from Sister Luke of the Sisters of Our Lady Convent, Abyssinia, Africa.

“Mr. Hastings, you may proceed,” says the judge.

“The letter is dated April tenth, 1918.

“Dear Mr. Hastings,

“Yes, I do remember Stella Bain quite well. As she must have told you, she was, when she arrived at our hospital camp, injured in her feet and in her head, and she had as well lost her memory. She called herself Stella Bain, but I understood the name to be a made-up one, since she certainly did not know who she was. She had, by the way, been left at our door during the night of March 14, 1916, by a man hauling a cart with her in it. She was unconscious for three days before she woke in our tent.

“Once she recovered from her injuries, I found Stella Bain to be an industrious nurse’s aide, even though her French was poor. She was a quick learner and shortly absorbed the necessary hospital French to do her duties. A quiet woman, hardly talkative, she was older than most of the nursing sisters there. She asked, or rather begged, to drive an ambulance, and after an initial trial, proved adept at that task as well. I hope she has told you that we did not see her again after a scheduled leave to Paris. We had no word of her for some time. I understand now that she was under severe mental distress during her time in both Marne and London, for I had a letter from a Dr. August Bridge letting me know that she had returned to America. It was then that I learned her true name, Etna Bliss Van Tassel. I was astonished to discover that she had gone back to see her children. I had not known she had children in America, and I am not sure that she did, either.

“I should not like to see Mrs. Van Tassel come to any further harm. I would give her the highest reference to any employers who might want them.

“Yours in Christ,

“Sister Luke”

The men in the courtroom observe an unasked-for moment of silence, as if in respect for the Catholic sister toiling in Africa.

Counsel for the Relator calls Etna Van Tassel to the stand.

“Mrs. Van Tassel, how are you this morning?”

“I am well, thank you.”

“Can you tell the court why you are in this hearing room today?”

“Yes, I can. I wish to gain custody of my son, Nicodemus Van Tassel. Mr. Hastings, may I refer to him as Nicky during these proceedings?”

“Your Honor?” Mr. Hastings asks.

“Yes, very well.”

Etna is aware of the judge’s intense scrutiny, as though she were of a slightly different species. He displays his thoughts and emotions via black bushy eyebrows that have marvelous flexibility.

“You are currently living at One seventeen High Street in Grantham, New Hampshire?” Mr. Hastings asks.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why have you chosen that address?”

“It is close to Croydon, where Nicky is at school. And it is not too far from Mary Hitchcock Memorial Hospital, where I work.”

“How do you get to work?”

“I drive a car, a Ford T.”

“Is it true that you drove a Red Cross ambulance during the war abroad?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Were you ever under bombardment while acting as a VAD?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Were you ever under bombardment while serving as an ambulance driver?”