by Judy Kundert
“Twenty is too much. I’m glad I could help. Say, check with the stews I gave you. They may need a roommate. I guarantee that they’re single and lovely women.”
“Thanks, I’m sure they’re perfect. I’ll start fresh tomorrow.” Emma Jean appeared in her vision, and Katherine smiled. “You know, like Scarlett O’Hara.”
47
KATHERINE WALKED OUT OF the Mayflower Hotel elevator and strode across the lobby’s marble floors. At 6:30 a.m. political crowds merged in and out of the hallway. Katherine fought the urge to step in front of one of the handsome young men and trip him. Each one appeared more important than other. What laws are they creating? What’s going on at “the Hill?”
“Katherine,” a familiar voice shouted.
“Dad!” she roared. It was thrilling, meeting her dad in the Mayflower Hotel in Washington D.C. She grabbed his arm and led him to the breakfast buffet. “I could devour everything—the omelets, the pastries, and tons of pineapple bits.”
The waiter poured coffee for Katherine and her father. “Welcome to our sunrise breakfast. We offer delectable food to get you ready for a busy day.”
“Wonderful,” Katherine said. For the last week, her breakfast had been a muffin and coffee. Now visions of crispy bacon, fluffy omelets, French toast, and pancakes danced across her mind.
Her mother and father’s generosity in loaning her money to stay at the Mayflower for two months with extra for meals and personal needs overwhelmed her. She planned to pay them back when she had the money.
“Your special French toast, please, and a side of ham, orange juice, and lots of coffee.”
After her father ordered, he sipped his coffee and wiped his glasses with his napkin. “Now I can see all the Washington movers and shakers.”
Katherine’s rash emerged undetected on her arms. She scanned her father for any clues of disapproval for his “loan” or her misstep with her new roommate. There was no evidence of the usual signs of anger: tapping fingers, a clearing of the throat, avoiding looking at her. Instead, her father leaned back in his dining chair and stretched like a Cheshire cat with an equally huge smile to match. Okay, she thought, he must like this plan. But was he really here for business in D.C. or is he here to check on me?
“You are a tremendously resourceful young woman,” her father said with a smile. “Your job at the Smithsonian is the buzz of Chippewa Falls.”
“What’s all the fuss? I’m not the first intern at the Smithsonian. It’s not a real job. At least not yet.”
Her father laughed. “When you became a stewardess, that was a big deal. In Chippewa Falls, it was a glamorous job, and you were the only girl in town who’d ever been accepted as a stewardess. Didn’t you notice the women with their eyes green with envy glaring at you on Main Street? But now the image of stewardess is sexy. And you’re not that ‘kinda’ girl.”
“Dad, how do you know that?”
“I read the newspapers with the ads. I hear men talking about stewardesses all the time.”
Katherine frowned. “Dad! Men everywhere act like wolves waiting for lambs to walk by, sometimes literally. Women need equal rights and respect. My stewardess friends are the best women. Blame it on men’s imagination and women’s appearances. The airlines are just capitalizing on ‘sex sells.’”
“You’re right. Your mother and I bubble over with admiration when we see how you’ve grown up. You were Katherine, the stewardess, and now you’re ready to become Katherine, the Pathfinder.” He folded his napkin and dropped it on the table. “Okay, I’ll be late for my committee meeting.”
“Yikes. What time is it?”
“7:30. The meeting starts at 8:00. The American Bar Association building is one block away on Connecticut Street. So, I have a little time.”
She clapped her hands and laughed. “I’m looking forward to a super first day. My first meeting with human resources is at 9:30. And my walk is the best, superior to walking along Lake Shore Drive. I walk past the White House and down the Mall. The high point is the Washington Monument. My morning starts with inspiration.”
Her father gulped his last drop of coffee, paid the check, and grabbed his briefcase. “Goldie, you’re a lucky girl. Let’s meet for dinner tonight? Okay?”
“Meet you in the lobby?”
He reached for his wallet and handed her two five-dollar bills. “No, here’s money for a taxi. My committee members are going for cocktails after our meeting. Take a cab to Martin’s in Georgetown. You can give me a full report on your first day at the Smithsonian.” He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. “Can’t wait for reconnecting tonight.”
Katherine waved. “Okay.”
Katherine gazed at her father’s statesman-like gait as he sauntered away from her. Wow, I may become my father’s equal. And I’m in the city where people make changes that ripple around the world!
Katherine brushed crumbs off her dusty pink skirt, straightened her black-and-pink-checkered box jacket, and raised her athletic body from the dining room chair. She touched the cherished turquoise charm and whispered, “I’m ready.” Gliding out of the restaurant like an eagle soaring, she smiled at the waiters and the restaurant guests paying their bills. She gave them her best and thought, I don’t have to smile at you, but I can’t help it. I’m part of something special. She hummed as she recalled tribe wisdom from her youth: “A great vision is needed, and the man who has it must follow it as the eagle seeks the deepest blue of the sky.” Katherine planned to take poetic license and replace the word man with the word woman.
“What a day,” Katherine exhaled as she rushed into her hotel room. She tossed her pink suit on her bed to change for dinner with her father.
At Martin’s Tavern, her father waved from a booth in the wood-paneled dining room.
“Wow. I must get a picture for your mother.” Her father motioned for Katherine to sit on the bench across from him. “How was your day?”
“Oh, Dad, I had the most thrilling day. I can’t wait to give you a full report. I have so much to add to my journal. I’ll send it to you and Mom.” She surveyed the wood paneling and the lines of booths around the restaurant. “I read about this place. It has a long history that goes back to the Depression. When we have time, I’d like to check all the president’s favorite booths.”
Her father tipped his thumb to a plaque on the wall. “Yeah. We’re sitting in the booth where Jack Kennedy proposed to Jacqueline.” He wiped a tear from his cheek.
Katherine thought of her father and his knight-like willingness to fight for underdogs. Now she understood part of the reason for his actions: Jack Kennedy. “He had the same effect on me,” she sighed. “Dad, can you excuse for a minute? I have to hit the ladies’ room.”
“Sure.”
Going past the crowded bar to the ladies’ room, Katherine heard a familiar laugh; her head cocked over her shoulder. Before she could jerk her head back, the funny guy pulled his head back. Neal’s eyes widened. “Katherine!”
“Neal?” Katherine smiled and leaned into Neal’s embrace. Katherine released a deep breath of air. Is this really happening? Katherine touched her Thunderbird. Back in Neal’s arms, this is where I’m meant to be.
48
KATHERINE’S JAW DROPPED, her eyes glistened. Her shoulders lifted high as tears streamed down her face. “I can’t believe this!” Is it destiny, fate, or Hanging Cloud? Her heart hummed with the flutter of the turquoise Thunderbird necklace. Katherine rested her head next to his chest with his heart beating in time with the rhythm of her heart, mind, and soul; just like a symphony. Katherine moved away to look in his eyes. “Neal. How did this happen?”
“My magic powers.”
Katherine’s eyes danced. Her voice bubbled. “And you did it. I was wishing for this to happened.”
A man at the bar with a boisterous laugh tugged at Neal’s sleeve. “Hey, Neal, aren’t you going to introduce us?” He turned and pointed to a group of four men, all dressed in the standard dress blue striped s
uit, white shirt, and assorted club ties. Katherine glanced at his dark red Cambridge University tie embroidered with golden lions.
Neal’s face turned as red as his scarlet tie. He clutched Katherine’s side and turned her toward the four other men. “Gentlemen, may I introduce my friend Katherine Roebling.” All four men leaned forward with outstretched hands. Like an assembly line, Katherine clasped each fellow’s warm hands. She forced a heartfelt grin for each of them. All I want to do right now is hold Neal’s hand.
A blond man standing next to Neal proffered a big smile. “Katherine, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stopped and tapped Neal’s chest. “This gent almost hired a private detective to find you.” He laughed. “And now here you are.”
Neal’s brow furrowed and released a sigh. Katherine placed her hand in Neal’s clenched fist. Another side of Neal. I’ll remember this. “Oh, Neal and I are old friends, and we always play games with each other.”
Neal sighed and feigned a laugh. “Yeah.”
Katherine remembered her father. She turned to his friends and smiled. “Do you mind if I take Neal to meet a friend of mine?”
Neal laughed. “Hank’s not my mother. No need to ask his permission!” Neal smiled and took Katherine’s hand. A couple of feet away from the blue squad, Neal whispered in her ear. “Your friend? Are you here on a date?”
“No. My father is calling out the bloodhounds; I left him to go the restroom.”
“Your father?”
“Yep. That’s my dad, the guy with white knuckles holding his beer mug.” They walked to his table. “Hi, Dad, I’d like you to meet my friend, Neal Meyer.”
Her father jumped up and flung his hand into Neal’s open palm. “Hi, Neal. Would you like to join us?”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Roebling.” He looked at Katherine. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Katherine’s heart pounded out a signal, and her voice quaked. “We’d like the company. Please join us.” I bet Dad wants to kick me under the table. I’ll ask for forgiveness later. He’s probably wondering if I let this guy pick me up. “Dad, here’s an amazing coincidence. I know Neal from Chicago, and he moved here to take a job with the Justice Department.” Katherine’s mental frequency sensed her father’s approval of Neal moved up the charts.
“Oh, I used to have friends at the Justice Department.”
“I think Katherine mentioned that you’re a lawyer.”
“Yes, I have twenty-five practice years notched on my belt. How about you?”
“I just graduated from Northwestern University in the spring, passed the bar, and now I’m an attorney.” Neal paused and smiled at Katherine. “It’ll be three weeks tomorrow.”
Katherine glanced at Neal and then turned to her father. Arrows pinged in her stomach and charged to her scalp to dart around her head. Her hand twisted the Thunderbird. The night Neal walked out of her apartment had run through her waking days and dreaming nights. How did it all happen? Our misunderstanding? Now, maybe we can get back on track.
Neal turned to Katherine and touched her hand. “How long have you been in D.C.? What’s happening in your life?”
Katherine noticed the sweat rolling down her dad’s brow. I have to solve this. I want to have dinner with Dad, and I want to talk to Neal. What to do?
“Gosh. That’ll take a while. How about meeting for a drink tomorrow? I’m staying at the Mayflower Hotel.”
“The Mayflower Hotel? Sounds good. How about I meet you in the lobby at six. I’m glad I found you. I called Charlotte over ten times to see if she knew how to find you. I thought she’d have your phone number.”
Katherine smiled. “I’ll give her a call soon. It’s amazing to see you; we’ll catch up tomorrow.”
“I’m heading to Germany in a few days. I know you’ve been there. Maybe you’ll give me useful tourist tips tomorrow night.” He offered his hand to Katherine’s father. “Mr. Roebling, it was a pleasure meeting you. Have a good visit with your daughter.”
Katherine’s dad put his handkerchief back in his jacket pocket after wiping his brow. He smiled and offered Neal his hand. “A pleasure meeting you.”
Neal turned to Katherine, smiled, and squeezed her hand “See you tomorrow.”
49
THE MUSTY SMELL OF OLD manuscripts, pictures, and artifacts in the Smithsonian Castle’s archive room smothered her wanderlust. Now she had a real calling. I can’t believe it, but I may be on the road to becoming a leader in archeology. Pounding heart, shaking knees, collapsing walls without windows chimed in tune with wonder. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten to have her internship changed to a paying position right off the bat. I will be a warrior for discovery and truth about ancient people and cultures whose stories are waiting for me to tell.
Boxes and boxes lined the stadium-long mahogany tables. Katherine reviewed the list of exhibits for the 1968 Festival of American Folk Art and bounded along the long row of files, reading the marking labels: Native American Program: Lummi Indians, City-Country, bluegrass, jazz, and Cajun; Crafts: sheep shearing, soap, candy, and sorghum making. Katherine chuckled.
“Hey, Katherine, how’s it going?” a familiar voiced shouted from the entry.
Dr. Margaret Kingsley, her Beloit College anthropology professor, walked over and sat in a chair across from Katherine. She pointed to the massive conference room table covered with boxes. “I hope you’re not upset about the internship falling apart. Will this fit with your plans? A medieval décor work environment isn’t glamorous. At least you have a job for a year and maybe longer. It’s exceptional for this grade level job if it’s right for you. I hope you won’t get bored.”
Katherine’s tongue pushed at her teeth like a protective guard ready to charge through the bolted door. How can I ever show this woman the amazing gift that she’s given me and the opportunity that the American Folk Festival offered me? In the future, she could help promote and educate the world on the art and gifts that Chippewa tribes bring to the world. Katherine raised her hands to her face to suppress her tears of joy, so she could replace them with a grin that slipped from cheek to cheek. “Oh, Professor Kingsley, I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve opened more doors for me than I could ever imagine. I only hope that I can walk through each one and come out a better person. I hope I can make you proud of me as my thank-you to you.”
Katherine’s eyes widened when the professor stood up, lifted her chin, and released a booming laugh. “Hey, you’re one of my star students, even if you take long sabbaticals for high-flying glamor. I had my fingers crossed that you would return and give me a chance to have one shining star in my teaching career.” Her professor sat down and leaned back in the chair. She folded her arms over her chest. “I was even jealous of you when came to tell me you were leaving school to become a stewardess. Wow. Wasn’t it exciting?”
Katherine didn’t want to disillusion herself. “Yeah. It was cool. But I couldn’t do it forever.” She swept her hands across the room. “With this beginning assignment, I might have a long-term career.”
Professor Kingsley raised herself from the comfortable chair and strolled to Katherine. She put her hand on her shoulder. “Keep in touch. We’re leaving for Athens tomorrow. But I have high expectations for you.” She started to walk away but turned and gave her a big smile and offered her a thumbs-up.
“Thanks, Dr. Kingsley. Have a great trip. I’ll keep you updated on my progress.”
Katherine turned to the never-ending row of boxes and sighed. “Athens.”
She strolled over to land in the chair that had just been occupied by her professor. Two weeks ago, she couldn’t even have imagined this place. She even got tempted to work in Athens with Angelos. Katherine’s eyes glistened. Hanging Cloud, you guided me to this like a straight-arrow aimed at a bull’s eye. Everyone carries a destiny. I cherish the people and friends that have journeyed with me: Mom and Dad, Dr. Kingsley, Emma Jean, Charlotte, Adam, Angelos, Fred, and all the people along the way as par
t of my thread of destiny. My magic thread entwined in colors. Brown, the color of roots, a steady shelter for my life with family. Green is the color of new beginnings, for my college life at Beloit College. Orange is the color of expansion, spontaneity for life as a stewardess in Chicago. Indigo blue, the color of professionalism, credibility for this new life at the Smithsonian. Katherine raised her hands over her head to straighten her back. My hope for the next roll out of colors: Deep purple, the color of the visionary, for my new plans to help the Chippewa tribe; and okay, a dream, but light pink, the color of romance and affection, for a long, lasting relationship with Neal.
Katherine leaned forward, brushed her hands across her face, and crossed her legs. Swish. With the crossover leg, she bumped the draft booklet for next season 1968 Festival of American Folk Art. It tumbled to the floor. The Thunderbird necklace flopped away from her chest.
A gust of wind flipped the pages to page ten. What is Folklore?
Katherine closed her eyes, sighed, and knelt next to the paper. With trembling hand, she picked up the manuscript and read it:
Folklore is the culture of the people. It is the submerged underground culture lying in the shadow of a whole civilization about which historians write. Schools and churches, legislatures and courts, books and concerts represent the institutions of culture. But surrounding them are other cultural systems based on tradition, systems that directly govern the ideas, beliefs, and behavior of most of the world’s peoples.
Katherine smiled and raised her eyes to the trompe l’oeil celling. “I have a mountain to climb.”
50
KATHERINE TURNED THE TINY umbrella in her daiquiri glass and listened to Neal’s proposition. She sighed with a sense of freedom. Glancing around the Mayflower lobby bar, she envisioned what it would be like if she stayed at the Mayflower for another month, and another month. Hotels are nice, but they’re not home, she thought.