Daughters

by Florence Osmund

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  Marie looked at her father through tearful eyes. “When I thought we were going to lose you…”

  “I’m not going anywhere, and...”

  “And what?”

  “I’m fine, my dear daughter, here with you.”

  “I know, but while you were in the…”

  “I’m fine. And thanks to my wonderful wife, I think I’m in better health than before.” He laughed nervously. “She calls me her champion, but really she’s mine.”

  “And mine.”

  Marie picked Rachael up from school on her last day before Christmas break. “Hey, what are you doin’ here?” she asked when she got into the car.

  “I’m taking you home so you can pack.”

  “Pack? Where are we going?”

  “I thought we’d go on a little weekend shopping spree for your birthday.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Downtown Chicago. Where else?”

  “Get out of here. What did Dad say?”

  “He said yes, of course.”

  “So he didn’t tell you the trouble I got into at school?”

  “Yes, he told me.” Rachael had been caught with three other students who had stuffed birdseed in all the nooks and crevices of the principal’s car. The principal found his car that day covered in bird droppings.

  “And he’s still letting me go?”

  “Well, he didn’t say yes right off. But I assured him…and I really went out on a limb for you. I assured him you would benefit from the trip and give serious thought to what it meant to be a mature, respectful soon-to-be fifteen-year-old.”

  “Really? He was so mad at me. Said I was grounded for a month.”

  Once in Rachael’s room, as she helped her pack, Marie realized how few clothes she had. Ben could easily have afforded to buy nice clothes for her, but Marie suspected that was something he wouldn’t have come up with on his own. While Rachael finished packing, Marie talked to Ben in the living room.

  “I was going to let Rachael spend the Christmas money I intended to give her on anything she wanted, within reason, of course, but now that I see her closet, I think I’m going to steer her toward clothes.” Ben gave her that “have I loused up again?” look. Marie confirmed his thoughts with her weak smile.

  “So how do I resolve this?”

  Marie shrugged.

  “How about if I give you what I would have spent on her for Christmas and her birthday, and you two can have a…dare I say, a ball shopping?”

  “Cool.”

  They talked mostly about school and boys on the way to Chicago.

  After settling into their hotel room, they went to dinner and then saw Angels in the Outfield. They talked about it on their walk back to the hotel.

  “So what do you think the lesson was in that movie,” Marie asked her.

  “Lesson? What lesson?”

  “There was an important lesson in that movie. Think about it.”

  Rachael sighed. “Marie, school’s out, remember?”

  “And I told your dad you would come back a more mature fourteen-year-old, remember?”

  “Okay. Uh, okay, the manager was a different person at the end of the movie.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What did you notice about him that was different?”

  Rachael thought about it for awhile. “He had a better attitude.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with me?”

  “Because, my dear, you’re a very smart girl. What should it mean for you?”

  “Okay, so my attitude isn’t always that great. So what?”

  “What did a change in attitude mean for the baseball manager?”

  “His players played better.”

  “You are smarter than you think. That’s exactly right. A positive attitude can affect the whole team, and your team is you and your dad.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “That’s all I get is a hmmm?”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Okay. That’s fair.”

  The next morning, they headed out to Marshall Field’s. Before they started their shopping spree, Marie tracked down Esther, who cried when she saw Marie.

  “God, I think about you all the time. How are you, and who’s this?”

  Marie introduced her to Rachael and asked if she was able to meet them for lunch so they could catch up.

  “Are you kidding? Of course, I can.”

  Esther walked with them to the young adults section of the store. “You girls have fun, and I’ll meet you downstairs at one.”

  Marie steered Rachael toward the dresses, but Rachael kept looking over at the racks of trousers instead.

  “Okay, I have something to tell you.” When she got Rachael’s attention, she told her about the money Ben had given her. Rachael shrieked.

  “Keep your voice down, will you?”

  “I can’t believe he did that. How much do I have to spend?”

  “Enough to buy several outfits, maybe a couple pairs of shoes, and some accessories.”

  “So why is he being so nice all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know. Could it possibly be that I presented your case to him with a very positive attitude?”

  Rachael smiled and rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it. I get it.”

  They managed to spend half of Ben’s money before meeting Esther for lunch. Esther brought Marie up to date on everything and everyone at Marshall Field’s, and Marie reciprocated by filling her in on her business and family.

  “What about lover boy?” Esther asked.

  Rachael’s ears perked up. “Yeah, what about lover boy?”

  “Never mind, young lady.” She turned to Esther. “We’re divorced…finally.”

  “No kidding.”

  They said their goodbyes to Esther and finished shopping. Burdened with almost too many packages to manage, Marie and Rachael collapsed on the bed of their hotel room. “I can’t believe we bought all this stuff,” Rachael said. “It’s crazy.”

  “Are you saying ‘crazy’ because it’s current slang, or are you really in disbelief?”

  “Both, maybe. I’m in shock I have all these nice clothes.”

  “Do other girls in your class have nice clothes like these?”

  “They all do.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Right.”

  “Why do you think you didn’t?”

  “‘Cause I’m not as good as them.”

  “By whose standards?”

  “Dad’s. Otherwise he would have bought me nice clothes long before this.”

  Marie fought to keep back the tears. “Rachael, sweetheart, that is not the reason.”

  “Why then? When I was with Mom I didn’t have nice clothes because she couldn’t afford them. But Dad can.”

  “You’ve got to understand that your dad came into your life late. We’ve talked about that. What has it been, a little over three years? So he had no experience raising you when you were little. It wasn’t gradual like with most parents. And even while your mother was living with the two of you, I’ll bet she didn’t parent with him, did she?”

  Rachael shook her head. “She wasn’t there most of the time.”

  “So you see, you can’t expect him to know very much about being a parent. You’ve got to cut him some slack, Rachael.”

  Rachael pursed her lips. “But I’m just a kid.”

  “Are you a kid, or a teenager who’s not that far away from graduating high school and deciding what you’re going to do with the rest of your life?”

  “Okay. I get it.” Rachael paused. “I’m hungry.”

  “When aren’t you hungry?”

  Rachael, Ben, Gregory, and Gloria were expected for Christmas Eve dinner along with the whole Brooks clan. This year, Claire made a healthy pasta dish instead of her famous lasagna. Jonathan made a face but didn’t
say anything.

  After dinner, everyone sat around the table and sang “Happy Birthday” to Rachael. After she blew out the candles, she looked at her father and smiled. “I know I already got my birthday gift. Thanks, Dad.”

  “You didn’t get mine though.” Marie handed her an envelope. “Read it out loud, Rachael.”

  Happy birthday, dear Rachael

  As you turn fifteen

  I have no present to wrap

  But I’m not being mean.

  Think ahead to April

  When you’re on spring break

  A trip to Atchison

  Will be a kick, for corn’s sake.

  So I hope you’re excited

  And you think this is boss

  Because if you don’t

  I’m just at a loss!

  Love,

  Marie

  “You better not be kidding.” The tears welled up in her eyes. She got up, ran over to Marie, and then whispered, “I love you.”

  The sweet aroma of Claire’s cinnamon rolls wafted through the house on Christmas morning.

  “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.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Spring Break

  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 boond
ocker, 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.”