Between Friends (35 page)

“That’s really kind of you,” Dallas murmured. “There’s not much more I can do. I think I’m probably underfoot. I’m going back home on Friday, unless something else comes up.”

“Well, let’s pray that it doesn’t. We all get to a point where we are on crisis overload and running on empty. Keep in touch and let me know how things are going.”

“Thanks again, Peggy. I’ll let my stepmother know you called.”

When Dallas got off the phone, she wasn’t inclined to face Eleanor just yet. She could hear low voices in conversation in the kitchen. Eleanor and Dean. Were they talking about her? Were they rehashing the terrible scene in the hospital when she and Eleanor had argued while her father was being stabilized? Even thinking of it was enough to plunge Dallas into despair and embarrassment.

Eleanor’s voice suddenly rose, followed by Dean’s. Dallas stayed where she was. She was glad that her brother was here, even though it was more time than he could afford from work, he had been the buffer between her and his mother. The voices hovered in the background, and she shifted her attention to the dozen or so get well cards sent to her father from coworkers, neighbors, distant family. Lillian Marco had signed both her and Vin’s names to one, and she had ventured over one afternoon with a cooked covered dish, as had Rosemarie Holland and the family across the street.

Deciding she had delayed long enough, Dallas got up and made her way back to the kitchen. When she walked in, Eleanor’s voice faded away in midsentence.

“How’s it going?” Dean asked.

“Fine. Daddy’s sleeping.”

“Was that the doctor calling?” Eleanor asked stiffly, not favoring her with even a glance.

Dallas took a seat at the table. “No. My office. Peggy sends her regards, and I thanked her for the flowers.”

The ensuing silence was strained, but then the phone rang again. Dean quickly responded.

“I’ll get it,” he said, gesturing for Dallas to stay seated. He got up and went into the next room.

Eleanor continued to ignore her, listening to her son’s voice in an attempt to figure out who he was talking to. Dallas thought this was as good a time as any to penetrate the wall of silence between her and Eleanor. It had to start somewhere.

“He fell asleep reading. I took off his glasses and turned out the light.”

Eleanor examined her manicured nails. She said nothing.

“He looked very peaceful,” Dallas added.

“Umph!” Eleanor uttered. “I’m surprised you didn’t say his
color
looked good.”

Dallas stared at her. She realized the stress her stepmother had been under. “That was uncalled for,” she answered stiffly.

“So were the things you said to me. Your father could have died, and all you did was worry that
I
was making a scene at the hospital and yelling at the doctors.”

Dallas sighed. This was not going to be easy. “They were doing everything they could. Accusing them of doing less wasn’t helping Daddy.”

“Just don’t forget how
you
insisted on seeing him.”

“I wanted him to know I was there.”

“Oh, Lyle knew, all right.”

Eleanor clamped her mouth shut. She rubbed her hands together anxiously.

“He worries about you all the time.”

“Over me? Why?”

Eleanor hesitated. “You know why. Because of your mother and having you. He never was sure he’d done the right thing. You are a constant reminder.”

“Are you saying his heart attack was my fault?”

“As long as you’re blaming someone I guess I did my share,” Dean said, strolling back into the kitchen. He had his jacket on. He looked at his sister and mother. “Let’s face it, I got away with stuff a lot of times. I did things”—he exchanged a glance with Dallas—“that were dumb. Mom, I know you aren’t thrilled about Alikah.”

“No, I am not. I thought I made myself clear on that issue.”

“You did,” Dean said wryly.

“I never thought you’d let yourself be influenced by all this black nationalist stuff,” Eleanor scoffed.

“I didn’t.” Dean shrugged. “I just met Alikah. I like her. That’s all it is. I seem to recall something about judging people by their character. Works both ways, Mom.”

“Are you leaving?” Dallas asked, communicating with Dean with her eyes.

He nodded. “That was Alikah. She wanted to say how sorry she was to hear about Dad,” he said to his mother. She pretended not to hear. “She’s going to pick me up at Penn Station. I called for a taxi to get me to the station.”

“Your father is seriously ill and you have the nerve to leave for a date? What is wrong with you?” Eleanor said, in that parental voice developed to quell children. It no longer worked.

“Hanging around here isn’t going to help Dad,” Dean said with an edge to his voice. “The doctors said it wasn’t serious, but a warning. If anything happens I’ll come back out.”

“If anything happens, it will be too late.”

“And it won’t be
anybody’s
fault,” Dallas added.

Dallas could see Eleanor’s pained expression, and her slumped shoulders indicated a sense of defeat. Dean rubbed his mother’s shoulder and bent to kiss her cheek. But Eleanor was going to punish him by being unresponsive, unwilling to forgive his lack of loyalty.

“You said he has to see the doctor on Monday,” Dean began. “You want one of us to go with you?”

“That’s not necessary,” Eleanor said, being more reasonable. “I’ll let you know what the doctor says.”

“Okay. I’m going to wait out front. The taxi should be pulling up any minute. I’ll call when I get home,” Dean said to his mother, kissing her again. He turned to wink at Dallas. “Be cool, Dilly-Dally. Talk to you later.”

Dallas and her stepmother remained seated as Dean departed. When the front door closed behind him they were plunged once more into an uneasy silence.

“Is there anything I can do now?” Dallas asked, risking further argument.

“I don’t think so. I have to fix Lyle something for lunch. You can do what you want.”

Dallas let the dismissal pass. She got up and began to clear the table. “Then I’m going down to the basement …”

“Are you finally going to do something about the stuff from your room?” Eleanor asked.

“Yes.” But Dallas did not mention the box her father had told her about the night before.

She’d sat in his room while Eleanor had run over to their bookstore. Dallas had watched him as he slept, making a mental list of all the things she would say to him when he was stronger, that she’d been afraid to say before. About being his daughter, and about her mother. But as it had turned out there had been no need.

Lyle Oliver had awakened and found his daughter watching over him. Without his glasses Dallas wasn’t sure that he could see her clearly. But she sat still, in case he quickly drifted back to sleep. Her father, however, finally spoke.

“You look a lot like your mother …” he croaked, but his voice was stronger than it had been.

Dallas didn’t answer right away. He could be dreaming. She had a feeling that if she asked him if he was okay, it would interrupt his train of thought. She wanted to keep him talking.

“Do I? I don’t remember her very well.”

“Your face is shaped like hers. You have her smile. When you were small it reminded me of her. Now that you’re all grown, I can see some of the Oliver side in you. People used to say you were another man’s child.”

“I once believed I was adopted,” Dallas confessed.

“No. No … you’re mine. I was there when you were born. Caused a little bit of an uproar in the hospital. Black man. White woman …”

“Mixed child,” Dallas said. She got up and moved her chair closer to the bed, next to her father.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “If I’d stayed down there, they would have killed us all.”

“They?”

“The local whites. I got along fine as long as I was going to graduate school, and working and staying out of trouble. I knew lots of people, was well liked. Meeting your mother, and then getting married, changed all that. Returning north made more sense. My family would have accepted Delores. I could find work, a place to live …”

“Daddy … you don’t have to tell me everything right now. Rest. We’ll talk later.”

“We should have talked a long time ago. You always wanted to know the details. You’re right. I should have told you. I didn’t desert your mother or you, Dallas. Terrible things happened down there. Terrible … we came back to Philadelphia to live. But your mother didn’t like the city. People said and did terrible things. She was scared all the time. Then you got sick, and she wanted to be with her family.”

“So you just let her go and take me with her?”

“You needed to be with your mother. We were all just trying to survive, Dallas. It was hard.”

“But I was your child, too.”

“I couldn’t protect either of you. It was better …”

Dallas felt astonished. How could he have made the decision that she was better off without him? How could her father really believe that she wouldn’t want and need him? How was she supposed to react to having been thought a mistake?

“It’s all in that box. It’s somewhere. Read the letters.”

She was desperate to question him more, but knew she couldn’t. He was getting tired. “Go back to sleep, Daddy,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry about that now.”

“It’s somewhere … in the basement …”

“There’s a box,” Dallas said distractedly now to Eleanor, repeating her father’s words.

“There’s more than one,” Eleanor confirmed. “I’d like to get rid of them.”

“I’ll go through them so you don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“You know, you’re wrong about me, Dallas. I’ve tried to be good to you. I’ve
never
mistreated you or resented you like you think I did.”

Dallas was surprised that the conversation had turned to their relationship. The timing seemed fortuitous. She nodded, being careful not to escalate the tension between herself and Eleanor. “I know. You gave me a home. I know you hadn’t expected to raise me.”

“And I never complained,” Eleanor emphasized. “You are Lyle’s child, and no matter what I think about that I made you a part of this family. I didn’t see anyone else claiming you when your mother died.”

The reminder of being sent back to her father stiffened Dallas’s spine.

“It hasn’t always been smooth and easy, but I never felt like you accepted me, either. You always called me Eleanor. You always let me know I was just your stepmother.”

Dallas was stunned to hear Eleanor’s point of view. It was not that she believed that Eleanor had never cared about her, but Dallas sensed that her stepmother’s feelings were tempered by her background. It
had
been held against her.

“I guess because you never made me feel like your daughter. So we both missed out. There are some things you can’t control. And if you’re not careful how you feel about Alikah Daru, you’re going to risk losing your son.”

Going through the boxes reminded Dallas of that afternoon at Lillian’s. She realized now that she too had a lot of stored memories to examine. She read through dozens of papers that were like watching a movie of her parents’ lives. Their involvement had been star-crossed.

Dallas heard footsteps on the basement stairs and looked up when Eleanor called her name.

“Dallas? Valerie is here. You want her to come down?”

“No … I’ll come up,” she said, laying aside a large envelope.

She found Valerie and Eleanor chatting about her father when she reached the kitchen. Valerie looked her over and grimaced.

“You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“Eleanor told me your father’s going to be fine.”

“This time,” Eleanor sighed, and wandered away into another room.

“How’s
she
been?” Valerie referred to Eleanor as she gave Dallas a hug.

“Concerned but strong. You know her.”

Valerie arched a brow. “That means she’s been driving everyone crazy.” Dallas grinned. “Comb your hair and grab a jacket. I thought we’d go somewhere for coffee. Get you out of the house, and give us some time together.”

“You know I don’t drink coffee,” Dallas quibbled good-naturedly.

“Ice cream?” Valerie countered.

Dallas sighed with gratitude. “I’ll get my things.”

Alex listened to Lillian’s warm voice, and noticed that Vin was not edgy or impatient with his presence. But decided that the time was not right to tell them.

Since arriving at their house he’d gone through a half-dozen different openings, trying to anticipate their reaction to what he had to tell them.

“Alex? I know you said you were eating later, but just a little more?”

Alex came out of his reverie and focused on Lillian. She stood poised with the salad bowl, ready to serve him more, but he declined with a slight shake of his head.

“I’ll take some,” Vin said, sitting back so that his wife could put more on his plate. “Lilly didn’t tell me you were coming over tonight.”

“That’s ’cause I didn’t tell her. It was a last-minute decision. I didn’t think she’d kick me out, and I wasn’t planning on staying long.”

Vin grunted. “It’s not Lilly you have to worry about.”

“Vin! What kind of thing is that to say to Alex? I’m glad he comes. With Nicky gone we should be kind to the family we have.”

Alex looked in surprise at Lillian and grinned. He turned to see Vin’s reaction, but his father was studiously digging into his lettuce and tomatoes. But at least he hadn’t rejected Lillian’s claim.

He wondered again if this was the right moment. Could he tell them now that …

“You know what you told me? About my business and the future,” Vin opened gruffly.

It took Alex a moment to figure out that Vin was referring to his last visit to the shop. “Sure, I remember.”

“How much would it cost?”

Alex knew that Lillian was keenly listening to her husband’s questioning of him. They both knew this was an important moment. Vin never asked for help if he could avoid it. He was too proud. He was careful. “How much would what cost?”

“You know. To make the business do better. Bring in more customers.”

“Well, you first need to decide what kind of business and service you want to offer. Then you figure out if it means new equipment or more staff. What do you want to charge? Do you need to advertise …”