Child of Her Heart

“Twenty-three. I’ve been married two years.”

“Not quite as old as my mother was when my father went off and left her with two children to raise. That was twenty-five years ago when I was five years old, but I still remember the problems she had.”

Sonya twisted her purse straps. The telephone rang, and Massie engaged in a short conversation with another client relating to an automobile accident Water gurgled in the aquarium in the corner, and Sonya riveted her eyes upon the black and gold fish zipping gracefully through the bubbling water. The leather furnishings of the room weren’t new, but they had quality, and Sonya deduced that Daniel Massie had a thriving law practice much beyond what she could afford.

When he replaced the receiver, he said, “Mrs. Barton briefly outlined the nature of your problem, but perhaps it would be better if I hear it from you.”

In halting sentences, Sonya unburdened the trauma of the past two months, leaving out nothing. It was easier to talk to a stranger than her friends. “The worst thing about it is that we had been very happy up until that point I just can’t believe that my life could change so drastically.”

“On what criteria do you judge the happiness of your marriage?”

Was he suggesting that they hadn’t been happy? The nerve of the man!

Almost belligerently, Sonya said, “We lived in a large apartment in the best part of town, lavishly furnished, and we vacationed at luxurious places. Bryon bought me expensive jewelry, and he insisted that I buy nothing but designer clothing. Of course we were happy.”

“But it takes more than material things to make a happy marriage. You’ve mentioned nothing about tenderness, mutual respect and devotion.”

“We had those, too,” Sonya said with downcast eyes. But had they? Daniel Massie had given her something to think about.

“Do you want me to contact your husband?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to make him any angrier. And I can’t have you working for me when I can’t pay you. Perhaps you can just advise me.”

The lawyer pondered a moment “Do you have family to help you financially?”

“My parents live in Ohio and would probably help me if I asked, but I won’t ask them. They were opposed to my marriage, and I remember my grandmother’s old adage, ‘If you make the bed, lie in it’ It’s my problem, and I don’t expect to burden them with it.”

“Then it might be a good idea for you to talk with a marriage counselor. You’ll need help from someone.”

“I’ll handle it myself. I still think Bryon will come back.”

“Even so, I suggest that you send those current bills to your husband. If he’s been caring for the finances, he’ll have to continue to do so. Also, if you won’t let me contact him, you’ll have to. Find out exactly what he intends to do. And I must warn you, Mrs. Dixon, from his actions, I think he means to make this a permanent break. If he sues for divorce, you’ll need an attorney.”

“I don’t believe in divorce.”

“You may not have a choice, and if he files, you must have help.” Daniel Massie smiled slightly. “You won’t let me help you. You won’t call upon your parents or a marriage counselor. But you must face reality. Mrs. Dixon, I’ve been through this with many other women. You can’t handle it alone. You’ll need help to get through this,” he added gently.

Sonya stood to leave and found that her legs scarcely sustained her body. She held on to his desk for support The lawyer quickly left his chair, came to her side and took her arm.

“Perhaps you should sit down for a few minutes,” he said, with concern in his voice. “I’ll call Mrs. Barton to assist you.”

Sonya shook her head. “I’m all right now. How much do I owe you, Mr. Massie?”

“Nothing at all today, since I haven’t done anything for you.”

“I won’t accept charity.”

“It isn’t charity—I never charge for a consultation of this type. If you need further help, then we can consider a fee. But there is one thing you can do for me.”

She looked at him questioningly, suddenly suspicious of his motives. What kind of woman did he consider her?

“I’d like to have you talk to a friend of mine, a professional counselor as well as a minister.” He picked up a notepad, wrote a name and handed it to her. “His name is Adam Benson, and he and his wife, Marie, will come to you anytime day or night when you have a special need. I’ve written down his home and office phone numbers.”

“I don’t need to talk to a minister or a counselor. I can handle this alone.”

“I’m sure you believe you can. But there comes a time in each life when human resources, and our own self-determination fail us. When those times occur, people who don’t have a higher power to sustain them will be overwhelmed by the pressure. I don’t want that to happen to you, Mrs. Dixon. Please take this card.”

This man is really concerned about me, Sonya thought, and she took the card from his hand.

“Thank you,” she murmured and walked weakly from the office.

Leta took Sonya’s arm and helped her to the elevator, and Sonya was thankful to have a friend to lean on.

“What did you think of Daniel?” Leta asked, as she drove out of the parking garage.

“He was all right, I suppose.”

“He makes a good appearance before a judge. I think he’s very handsome.”

“Maybe so. I was so embarrassed to be telling my problems to a stranger that I hardly looked at the man, but I was surprised that he seemed to be really interested in my welfare. After all, he must see dozens of people with such problems in a week’s time. How could he be interested in each one?”

“I don’t know, but he is. He makes all of his clients believe that solving their problems is his first priority. I’ve heard of a few cases when he’s represented abused women in getting their divorces and has charged no fee at all, simply because they couldn’t have gotten a divorce otherwise.”

Sonya thought about that. It was rare to find a person who helped others so selflessly. Daniel Massie was an unusual man.

The letter she’d been looking for had arrived when Sonya entered the apartment. She tore open the flap of the envelope with trembling hands:

Dear Sonya,

By this time you will have recovered from the shock of my earlier letter. As you may have gathered, I want a divorce. I hope you’ll be reasonable and not cause trouble about this, for I have no notion of returning to Omaha. You can send my clothes to the address below.

Bryon

Sonya dropped the letter on the floor and stamped on it. She picked up the second oriental vase and hurled it across the room. The shattered pieces joined the fragments of the other vase she hadn’t cleaned up from the carpet If she was only a possession to Bryon, perhaps if she destroyed everything else, he would turn to her.

She went to the desk, picked up all the bills that had accumulated in Bryon’s absence and stuffed them into a stamped envelope. Angrily she scratched out a note. “If you want your clothes, you can come after them.” Before she lost her nerve, she sealed the envelope, ran downstairs, and dropped it in the mailbox in front of the apartment house.

The next morning Sonya went to the unemployment agency and applied for work. Even as she filled out the blanks, she realized that she was a poor candidate for a job. She had no experience at anything. Being the wife of a successful stock broker wasn’t much of a recommendation for employment, and she’d taken only basic subjects her two years in college, so she had no training in any field.

What was it her father had said? “Please don’t get married before you finish college, Sonya. The day will come when you’ll wish you had that degree.” But Sonya had ignored her father’s advice and listened to Bryon instead. “But I don’t want to wait, Sonya. If I leave you here and go off to work somewhere else, you might find another man you want to marry. I want you with me always. Don’t I mean more to you than a college diploma?”

Sonya shook her head to rid her mind of such perplexing thoughts and continued to fill out the job application.

The clerk who interviewed her was sympathetic and kind. She suggested that Sonya should enroll in some kind of job training at a vocational school. After scrutinizing Sonya closely, apparently taking in her expensive clothing, she said, “If you need financial help, there are federal grants available.”

But that wouldn’t take care of her living expenses in the meantime.

“I’ll give that some thought,” Sonya told the woman. “Thank you.”