by Lori Lansens
“Honey?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“You know who your Daddy is? You know his name? Or where he lives even?”
For as long as she could remember, Sharla had asked Collette the same questions. She’d wait till her mother was in a good mood, then wonder out loud why her Daddy never comes to see her. What’s his name? Does he have a nice house? Does he have other children? Collette would only roll her eyes and say, “I do not have a clue. Anyways, lots of kids don’t got Daddies living with them.”
Sharla longed to lick a cold Tiger Tail cone and taste the mix of sweet orange and black licorice. She let Addy lean on her, afraid the wheezing old woman wouldn’t make it all the way to the Sweet Freeze. She wondered if she ought to stick her thumb out like Collette used to do so one of the whizzing cars would stop and give them a ride. She hadn’t answered Mum Addy’s question about her father. She couldn’t.
Addy asked again, “You ever see your Daddy before? You know what he looks like?”
Sharla shrugged and didn’t want to talk about the Daddy she didn’t know.
“You know his name?”
“Cody.”
“I guess that.”
“Not Depuis.”
“What’s not Depuis?”
Sharla giggled because Mum Addy didn’t know. “My Mum. Collette Depuis.”
Of course, thought Addy, surprised she hadn’t thought it before. Collette had not married Sharla’s daddy and was not a Cody. Most likely she’d never been married at all before. Addy remembered a family of Depuis living on the north side of Chatham in a big house in the new subdivision. The father, Reggie Depuis, was a churchgoing man who owned the Family Time Restaurant on Highway 2. She remembered delivering his bread order the first time and how he’d told her kindly to come in the back door, not because she was coloured, just deliveries had to come in the back. She remembered he had a pretty baby daughter and his wife, Arla, was sickly and later died. Addy’d heard how Reggie cut off two fingers slicing cold cuts after the funeral and nearly died from that himself.
Addy could see the face of the fat baby girl. Could that pretty baby have been Collette? Addy doubted it, thinking Reggie Depuis was a good man and it didn’t seem likely that Collette was his. But hadn’t she said something about her mother dying that day she came to ask if Addy’d take Sharla? Addy stopped again and was racked by a cough and the voice of her brother saying, “Addy. You got to find the child a home. You got to find the child a home because you won’t be on earth much longer and you know it.”
Sharla looked up, worried. Mum Addy looked grey and like she couldn’t walk another step. Sharla’d thought so much about the two scoops of Tiger Tail, she felt she’d already licked it done and chewed the cone and didn’t need the real thing after all. “Wanna go back home, Mum Addy?”
Addy smiled and shook her head, not wanting Sharla to see the thoughts on her face. She’d get the child her ice cream, look up Reggie Depuis in the phone book, and see if she had the courage to make the call. She didn’t want to give Sharla up, like she didn’t want to believe she was dying, but Leam was right, any way you looked at it, she could not raise the little girl to grown.
The Sweet Freeze was busy but they found stools at the counter. Sharla got her Tiger Tail scoops and was happy. Addy felt better in the cool air and thought she wouldn’t make that telephone call after all. But Leam nudged her so she took a dime from her purse and found the telephone near the restrooms.
Reggie was the only Depuis in the county directory and that made it simple, but when a thick smoky voice answered, “Hello?” Addy’s first thought was to hang up. Instead she said, “Hello. Mr. Depuis?”
“Yes?” came the voice, chilly and suspicious.
“This is Adelaide Shadd, Mr. Depuis. Maybe you remember me? I used to deliver for Mr. Folo? Over to The Oakwood Bakery?”
There was no voice on the other end of the phone.
“Mr. Depuis?”
“Yes?” came the voice again, as if he hadn’t heard the last.
“I used to deliver crusty buns and rye breads out to your family restaurant way back when? I remember your good wife, Arla.”
“Arla died years ago. My wife’s name is Delia.” He was impatient.
Addy took a quick look to make sure Sharla was fine by herself at the counter, and she was. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, Sir, I don’t know exactly how to ask except to ask, do you have a daughter by the name of Collette?”
There was no voice again and Addy thought the man hung up.
“Mr. Depuis?”
“Who the hell is this?”
“It’s Adelaide Shadd, Mr. Depuis. I thought you might remember me from making bread deliveries to your restaurant?”
“I sold the Family Time. Owner’s called Telfer. Call him if you want to sell bread.”
“Yes, Sir. It’s not…Mr. Depuis, the reason that I’m calling you is that I live out at the Lakeview trailer park and I’m wondering if the girl from there, Collette Depuis, is she your daughter, Sir?”
There was a pause, as if he were deciding. After a moment, the voice came. “No.”
Adelaide knew the man was lying. “It’s just, Sir, Collette, well, she run off a while back, and she asked me to look after her daughter. You sure that’s not your—”
The receiver went dead in her hands and Addy Shadd could only guess at what happened. She thought of her own father and how easy it had been for him to reject her and not to think of her except in a mean way. She thought Reggie Depuis must feel the same, though she couldn’t know why. She felt a rush of tenderness toward Collette and was sorry she’d judged her so harshly.
Addy flipped the phone book pages until she found the Cs. But there was not one single Cody in the book. She limped back to the counter, her hip paining her. Sharla had Tiger Tail dripping down her chin, onto her top and shorts, and a sticky cloud around her mouth. Addy didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around Sharla’s stiff little body and squeezed her eyes shut.
The families at the Sweet Freeze watched Addy hug the messy little girl to her caved-in chest. Everyone knew something sad must have happened and wished they knew what. Sharla didn’t know what to think, and even though her hands were ice-creamy and it was an unfamiliar thing to do, she wrapped her little arms around the old woman’s back and patted like she’d seen good mothers do on TV. Sharla whispered, “Don’t cry, Mum Addy. Shh. Don’t cry.”
The bearded man behind the counter brought Addy a cool glass of water. She blew her nose into a napkin from the greasy dispenser, looking away, when a white lady with a baby on her hip took the stool beside her and asked, “You okay, Dear?”
Addy felt foolish for all the fuss she was causing. It wasn’t just the phone call with Reggie Depuis that got her upset, it was Collette and Sharla and herself and all the other souls who got left and cursed by those that should have loved and cared. Addy shook her head at the lady and was grateful when she offered a soft tissue from her purse, because the scratchy napkin was hurting her nose.
The lady rocked her baby, squeezed Addy’s brown arm, and almost had her crying again when she asked in her gentle voice, “Anything I can do?”
“No. Thank you for asking though.”
Addy thought the woman would leave now, but she stayed. “My name is Rita Whiffen.” She gestured at the cranky baby. “This is little Roger.”
“Adelaide Shadd. Very pleased to meet you. This here’s Sharla.”
Rita Whiffen smiled at Sharla and reached into her purse for another tissue. She dipped the tissue into Addy’s water glass and deftly wiped the Tiger Tail from Sharla’s mouth. “Your granddaughter?” she asked.
Addy didn’t want to lie to this kind woman so she didn’t say anything except that her baby was sweet and thank you again for troubling. The woman continued, “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I think my husband and I saw you walking on the road before. You need a ride back to wherever you’re going? Awful hot out there.”
It was Leam again, and Addy was sure of it, coaxing this woman to her goodness, for most people, especially strangers, didn’t care to wonder or trouble. Addy said yes and was thankful to take the ride. Looking at Rita Whiffen’s smiling face, Addy thought to ask did she have enough room in her heart to love another child, but just then Rita’s husband came up and asked his wife, “They need a ride, Hon?”
Three small sunburned children toddled like ducklings behind Rita’s husband, and Addy laughed at what she’d been thinking because the Whiffens already had their hands full. They were led out to a big station wagon, where Rita and her husband insisted Addy take the front seat.
Feeling a little unsure, Sharla climbed into the back seat with the other children and the kind woman. Before the car even started up, the two-year-old, Peter, put his arms around Sharla’s neck and pressed his drooling lips to her cheek. Sharla wasn’t sure she liked that, until Rita Whiffen said, “He does like the pretty girls.” Sharla’d stopped hiding her smiles a few weeks back and now she even laughed and said Peter could sit on her lap.
On the short drive back to Lakeview, the adults complained of the heat and humidity, but then, like most people from these parts, reminded each other that winter’d be along soon enough. They’d all be wishing they were hot and sweaty and down at the lake instead of stuck in the house due to high-drifting snow. Although she’d already thanked the couple several times, Addy thought to say it again. “It’s not many people think to offer a ride and it’s really much appreciated.”
Rita nodded and said, “Well, we think the best way to be is colour-blind and we’d like to teach that to our children.”
Addy was surprised by what Rita said. She hadn’t meant offer a ride to a coloured lady, but she didn’t think ill of her for misunderstanding. Rita combed Sharla’s hair with her fingers like she was her own little girl and said, “How old are you, Sweetness?”
Sharla smiled, hoping the hand would not leave her scalp. “Five.”
“When do you turn six?” Rita asked as her fingers moved through the tangle of curls.
“On my birthday.”
Rita Whiffen laughed. “When’s your birthday?”
Sharla considered this for a moment. She knew it wasn’t normal not to know when your birthday was. She had only a vague memory of a birthday cake from a long time ago and no presents she could think of or point to. “I think it used to be in winter.”
Rita Whiffen tried to hide her alarm. “Used to be? Well, birthdays don’t change, Hon. They’re always on the same day. Don’t you know when your birthday is?”
“Maybe in summer?”
“Well, when in summer?”
Addy realized that it was likely Collette had forgotten Sharla’s last birthday and maybe even the one before that. Addy suddenly knew that Sharla’d never had a birthday party and was already six years old and just didn’t know it. She took a deep breath and turned to Rita in the back seat. “August. Sharla’ll be six years old August fifteen,” she said, because that was what came to her head.
Sharla thought Addy must be magic. They’d never spoken of her birthday. How could Mum Addy know?
It was shortly after the Whiffens dropped them off at the trailer and wished them well that Addy decided to give Sharla a birthday party. She told Sharla about the party then and there and wished she hadn’t for she’d have no peace now until it was over.
“Can we have balloons?”
“Yes.”
“Can Lionel and Nedda come?”
“Yes.”
“Can we have firecrackers?”
“No.”
“Can we have cake?”
“Yes.”
“Candles?”
“Six candles.”
“Can I be the one blows them out?”
“You have to blow them out, Sharla. You’re the birthday girl.”
Apple Cake
IT WAS LENNY DAVIES’ husband, Morris, who came to wake Addy sometime in the night with a small lantern and a hard look. She hadn’t laid eyes on Morris yet, having spent most of the evening working in the kitchen, but Addy couldn’t shake the feeling she knew him. She quickly realized what was familiar about the man was that he was wearing the Pastor’s black wool coat. She suddenly remembered the fat roll of money in the coat pocket and was sorry she hadn’t thought to take it out and hide it somewhere near her skin. But she was in no position to ask for either the coat or the money back.
Morris handed Addy a small pile of Lenny’s old clothes and a thin cloth coat with worn elbows. “Get yourself together, Girl. We’re going to Detroit City.”
Addy found her food sack empty and supposed the smoked meat and potatoes had been taken, along with the black coat and money roll, to pay Morris and Lenny back for their generosity. She pulled the thin coat on and stuffed the rest of the clothes into the sack. She’d eaten chicken legs and biscuits in the kitchen with Lenny earlier but never did hear about that kidney pie again. She wished she could have it now, for she was very hungry and it appeared she was to leave without breakfast.
It was a horse-drawn wagon, and as old a wagon as Addy’d ever seen, that Morris Davies led her to. She moved forward, thinking she’d sit with him on the bench, but Morris shook his head and gestured behind. Addy climbed into the wagon with some effort and settled down in the dust. As the horse began a trot, she wondered about the two fishing rods and wicker bait basket in the wagon beside her. She tried not to think what Lenny Davies’ cousin must be like because that’s where she was headed, and that’s just what was. The swayback old horse snorted when Morris snapped a leather cord across his flanks and drew the wagon down the lane. The jostling hurt Addy’s still-sore body and shook the child in her womb.
The streets were quiet but for the rhythm of the horse’s hooves. Addy called out to Morris up front, “This here Windsor?”
Morris shook his head and said simply, “Sandwich.”
The sun rose as they drove. Addy watched the town move past her—modest frame houses crowded together and set close to the road, short and square brick buildings on the main street, a shabby clapboard structure she was shocked to see was a church. No people anywhere, black or white. Sandwich was not at all what she’d imagined. She wondered what Windsor might look like. She’d find out about Detroit soon enough.
Morris had made it clear he did not want to exchange words or pleasantries and she was relieved for she’d none to offer. She held on to the side of the wagon as it rocked over the broken road, wincing when she got a long splinter of wood stuck in her palm. The splinter went in so deep she was sure she’d never get it out.
Addy knew that Detroit City was in America and that America was a different country. She knew there was a border and that Teddy Bishop crossed back and forth on it to run his rum. But when she saw the wide river in the first light of day she was afraid and wondered how they would get from here to there. Morris Davies stopped the wagon and tied up his old horse. He said, “Bring the fishing rods,” then went to exchange a few words with a frightening-looking white man who peered out from a shanty near the water’s edge.
Morris disappeared inside the shanty a moment then returned carrying a wooden crate, which Addy knew was liquor. She thought of Chester and could hardly believe that he’d been here, had a life as a bootlegger, and that he and Leam lost their lives in that thick swampy water. She wondered if Chester was still here, floating dead on the surface of the water, and hoped not to see if he were.
Morris pointed to a sad little rowboat with only one plank seat, the other plank broken and wet on the floor. He climbed inside the boat with the liquor and held out his hand. Addy thought he meant to help her down but he gestured at the fishing rods and basket so she passed the things over. Morris did hold out his hand to help her into the boat, but only when it was clear she couldn’t make it on her own. He balanced the broken plank seat on top of the liquor case and gestured for Addy to sit herself down on it. Then he reached over and pulled the skirt of Addy’s dress this w
ay and that until the crate was completely hidden. Addy bent her head, ashamed.
As they pushed off from the dock, Addy reckoned Morris’d likely give her the oars and make her row herself. But he took them instead, keeping the fishing rods by his side. It was only when they were midway across the river and a small motorized boat puttered toward them carrying two young white men dressed like the law that Addy began to understand.
As the boat approached, Morris brought the oars inside and took up the fishing rods. He passed one to Addy and quickly opened the basket. He hitched a worm to his hook and reached for another as one of the lawmen called out, “Getting an early start?”
Morris looked up, acting like he hadn’t seen the men coming. He broke out into a huge grin and called back, “Oh yes, yes Sir. Good morning to you.”
The lawmen drew closer, cutting the motor on their boat. Addy could see they were trying to peer into the rowboat and were suspicious. “Brought your wife along, did you?”
“Yes,” Morris said. “Likely wasting my time though. She squeamy about the worms.”
The white men chuckled. They could see there was nothing inside the boat but the fishing basket. Still they didn’t seem satisfied.
“What you out for today?”
“Pickerel if they biting. Or whatever my hook like to catch.”
One of the white men was looking at the swell under Addy’s dress. He tipped his cap at her and said, “Don’t care for fishing, Ma’am?”
Addy glanced at Morris, shook her head, and cast her eyes.
“Funny thing you’re out here on the river then, wouldn’t you say?” The other man set his foot on the side of his own boat and leaned over. “You wouldn’t have come along for any purpose other than fishing, would you, Ma’am?”
Addy looked at the white man squarely and thought his eyes strange and weak. She shook her head and said in a small voice, “I got growing children at home and only thought with two of us catching we might have a fine supper this evening and some left over for fish cakes at breakfast.”