Daughters (33 page)
Authors: Florence Osmund
“Claire, dear, please don’t tell me you made those for everyone but me,” Jonathan whined.
Claire flashed a big smile. “I suppose one cinnamon roll won’t hurt you.” By the look on his face, Marie would have thought he had just won it big at the race track.
Tré’s ten-year-old daughter, Denise, had drawn Marie’s name for the Christmas present exchange. Marie opened the crudely wrapped present—a handmade embroidered sampler. All around the perimeter were red hearts, and in between each one a yellow flower. In the middle she had embroidered in cross stitch, “The love of a family is life’s greatest blessing.”
Marie glanced up at Denise and through tears said, “This is so sweet. Thank you.”
The Christmas church service was particularly relevant for the Brookses. Their pastor focused on the relationship among body, soul, and spirit and the importance of each. Marie sat on one side of Jonathan and Claire sat on the other. Claire grasped her husband’s hand a little tighter whenever the pastor talked about body.
The Brooks clan sat in the living room after dinner—there would be no traditional cigar-smoking in the barn this holiday. Jonathan’s son, Arthur, brought up the new Amos ‘n’ Andy television show.
“So what do you think, Dad?”
“About what?”
“Do you think the show is amusing or insulting?”
A direct descendent of the radio program that had originated in the twenties, the television version showcased several Negro characters who mimicked so-called Negro dialect and were stereotypically characterized as ignorant, scheming, untrustworthy, lazy, and loud-mouthed.
Jonathan hesitated before responding. “I don’t know. I guess I have mixed feelings. I would certainly prefer that the only show on television showcasing Negroes would present us in a more positive light, but let’s face it, there are characters out there like them, and it’s entertaining. Hell, I knew someone just like Kingfish back in South Carolina. In fact, he makes Kingfish look like an amateur.”
The look on Arthur’s face indicated he didn’t like his father’s answer. “Well, the NAACP doesn’t like it, and I’m with them.” Arthur had strong ties to the NAACP through his law practice.
“So what are they saying?” Jonathan asked.
“They’re up in arms over it because they think millions of white Americans will think our entire race is like this. We know differently, but…”
Jonathan turned toward Marie. “What do you think?”
All eyes were on Marie. She was aware why Jonathan put her on the spot—better to have to face a question like this for the first time among family.
She took in a deep breath. “Well, I saw just one episode, so I’m not sure if I can give a very well-informed opinion.”
“One episode is all you need, believe me,” Arthur said through a scowl.
“I honestly don’t think most white people who watch that show think that’s how all Negroes are. The sad thing is they probably don’t think anything at all about us as a people beyond the program. I think they’re amused by it, and that’s where it ends.”
Arthur’s twin brother, Evan, chimed in. “So is that a sad thing or a good thing?”
“I can tell you from firsthand experience, that’s a sad thing,” Marie said.
Marie had a particularly hard time saying goodbye to Jonathan this trip. While he looked like his old self, he wasn’t completely back to normal, and Marie feared he would get back to his busy routine too soon and risk another heart attack. Claire was doing everything she could to keep that from happening, but Jonathan was stubborn when it came to being the patriarch of the family and in charge of his business.
“You’re going to take care of yourself, right?” she asked him.
“Yes, Mother,” he responded sarcastically.
“You know it’s only because I’m concerned about you.”
“Yes, dear.”
Spring break snuck up on Marie. After a day of making sure the spare bedroom and the contents of the refrigerator suited Rachael’s needs, Marie met her train in Kansas City. It was eight p.m., and Rachael had been on the train almost ten hours. She looked a little weary but was smiling. “So how was it?” Marie asked as they exited the train station.
“It was cool. There was a girl my age on the train most of the way, and her parents let us sit together, so it wasn’t boring or anything.”
“Did you eat?”
“I ate lunch.”
“Well, you must be starved then. Let’s check into our hotel, and we’ll order room service.”
“Crazy. I’ve never had room service.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, my dear.”
“Right on.”
Whenever Marie had to spend overnight in Kansas City on business, she stayed at the Hotel Phillips in the historic district of the city, and so that’s where she made the reservation. Rachael scanned the lobby as soon as they entered the hotel. “This is so crazy,” she exclaimed in awe of the art deco furnishings. “This place must really be old.”
“Built in the thirties, I think. Look at that.” Marie pointed to the eleven-foot likeness of the Goddess of Dawn. They continued walking through the hotel. “Do you know who Harry Truman is?”
Rachael rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. He was the thirty-something president.”
“Thirty-third. He used to run the haberdashery in this hotel before he got into politics.”
“The what?”
“Haberdashery. Men’s clothing.”
“Like Brooks Brothers?”
“Like Brooks Brothers.”
She knows about Brooks Brothers?
The next day, they spent a leisurely morning in their room while Rachael filled Marie in on school, boys, and how she was getting along with her dad.
“We’ve both changed a little, I guess. I’m trying to drop the attitude, and he doesn’t have a cow every time I say or do something. He’s trying his best to not be such a pooper.”
“A pooper?”
“Yeah, as in no fun.”
“You have new words since the last time I saw you.”
“You ain’t heard nothing yet.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
After leaving the hotel, they window-shopped down Main Street before stopping in a quaint café for lunch.
“How about a movie before we drive home?”
Rachael gave Marie a big smile. “
Too
Young to Kiss
?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of
An American in Paris
.”
Rachael quickly suppressed a pout. “Okay.”
“Well?” Marie asked her after the movie.
“It was cool. I liked it.”
“It’s good for you to enjoy a wide spectrum of things, like going to more educational movies. Broadens your horizons.”
“Yes, Marie. I get it. I’m not just some boondocker, you know.”
“Where
do
you get all these sayings?”
Rachael thought for a moment. “Why, it must be from the
wide
spectrum of things I expose myself to.” She flung her right arm in the air like a symphony conductor.
“Okay, young lady. Don’t get smart with me.”
They talked about the movie on the way home. “Must be cool to be an artist,” Rachael said. “Draw whatever you want when you feel like it. Don’t have to go to a boring job.”
“Artists have to eat and pay rent just like anyone else, don’t forget.”
“Yeah, I dig it.”
Rachael’s mood changed, and Marie recognized the signs that something was on her mind. Ten minutes later, Rachael felled the silence.
“How do you know Mr. Brooks is really your father?”
“That’s a long story.”
“How long until we get to your place?”
“A little over an hour.”
“Well?”
Marie told Rachael the short version of how various clues had led her to Jonathan. Rachael didn’t interrupt.
“But what I mean is how do you
really
know?”
Marie didn’t know how much a typical fifteen-year-old knew about the birds and bees, but then Rachael wasn’t your typical fifteen-year-old. “What do you mean?”
“Marie, can we talk woman to woman?”
She didn’t know how to answer that question. “We can try. But you are just fifteen after all.”
“I probably know more than you think. Like just because someone tells you he’s your father, he may not be.”
“And what are you basing this on?”
“Mostly a friend of mine from Chicago. My best friend back then. We talked about everything…I mean everything. Anyway, her mother had a baby, and nobody thought too much about it. But by the time the kid turned three, everyone could tell he looked more like the Mexican next door than her husband. My friend said her father left her mother when she admitted the neighbor was the
real
baby’s father.”
“Well, I know Jonathan is my father because all the puzzle pieces fit, but more importantly, because the first time I saw him, I felt the connection. I can’t explain it, Rachael, but it was definitely there. Do I have scientific proof? No. No one gets that. You have to go on what you know, whom you trust, and your gut instincts.”
Rachael was silent for several seconds. “Boy, am I in trouble.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause I have very few puzzle pieces, I don’t trust anyone, and my gut tells me Ben isn’t my father.”
Marie concentrated on her driving while she mustered the right words. “Rachael…I’m not sure how much I can help you with this. My initial thought is if you’re having doubts about it, start with Ben. Just keep one thing in mind: he’s accepted you into his life as his daughter. That has to count for something whether he is or isn’t. Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t pursue it, but just be sensitive to his position. I’ve had enough conversations with him to know he loves you, and he would do anything for you.”
“I can’t say I love him,” Rachael said with a sad tone. “I guess that makes me a pretty bad person.”
“No. Not at all. Some people need more time than others to develop those types of emotions. You were how old when you and your Mom moved in with him?”
“Twelve and a half.”
“Three years isn’t…”
“But you said he loves
me
.”
“That’s different. A parent’s love for a child is different.”
“How so?”
“A parent’s love is hard to explain. It’s almost a level beyond love, unconditional for one thing. You’ll find out some day.”
“What does unconditional mean?”
“It means you love someone no matter what else the other person says or does.”
“Hmmm.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I could do that.”
“Wait ‘til you have children. You’ll understand then.”
“So do you think I should come right out and ask him?”
“Maybe you could start by asking him about his original relationship with your mom, before you were born. How they met, how long they were together, why they split. Stuff like that. And then just let the conversation evolve from there. Just remember, it’s never good to go into a discussion with both guns drawn if you know what I mean. If you do, it will probably turn into a battle.” Marie glanced over at Rachael. “Make sense?”
“I guess so.”
“Here we are, kiddo. Let’s go in and take a load off.”
“Marie?”
“Yes?”
“You’re getting better with the lingo.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“And Marie?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
