The Daughters of Julian Dane

by Lucile McCluskey

  “Why didn’t he just call the doctor?” Donnie asked.

  “Mother asked that same question in one of her letter to Aunt Sarah. And they had tried to locate him by phone, but you see, not all the farm folks around Riverbend had telephones at that time. And the doctor was at one of those farms delivering a baby. But it wouldn’t have mattered. That bridge must have washed out right after Dane crossed it. The doctor would have never gotten to them in time. It was morning when they got across the river by boat, and up to the house.

  “Wilhelmina said she had done all that she could, but Miss Meleah was dead, and the little boy – well, he turned out to be very retarded.”

  Addie gasped. “Retarded!” she exclaimed. That couldn’t be!

  “Yep,” Gramps said shaking his head. “It was real sad.”

  “But, Gramps,” Donnie said. “If she died having the baby, why was there gossip, or whatever, about it?”

  “Well, I guess I might as well tell you all of it,” he said, as Addie sat staring at him in disbelief.

  If the baby was retarded, how could he have been her father? Surely, Gramps was mistaken. But, she would worry about that later. She must not miss a single word he could tell her.

  “You see,” Gramps was saying, “Wild Willy and Hiram Stone didn’t get along too well. She’d storm into the bank, and they’d have a go at it right there in his office where anybody in the bank could hear when they raised their voices. Aunt Sarah’s desk was just outside Stone’s door, and she could always hear what was going on between them. About a month before we moved to Nashville, I heard Aunt Sarah telling mother about a fight they’d had just before the bank closed on a Saturday morning – when there was folks still in the bank.

  “Seems Willy wanted some kind of a new car, a real powerful one, for her twentieth birthday, and Stone wouldn’t buy it for her. Well, she told him he might as well buy it for her, because she would buy it herself in another year. Aunt Sarah said she yelled at him that there was only three things in life that she wanted, and time would see that she got all of them.

  “Then Stone absolutely exploded. He yelled at her that he knew she could get the car on her twenty-first birthday, but at least he wouldn’t have to feel guilty when she got herself killed in it. And he said he knew she’d have Stonegate one day, but it would be over his dead body. Then he said, ‘But for Heaven’s sake, Wilhelmina, if you have a shred of decency in you, give up this obsession with that Dane fellow. He’s a married man with a family!’ Then he added that he didn’t know why Victoria had let them move into the log house to begin with.

  “Of course , all that spread over this small town like spilt grease on a warm stove. And when Miss Meleah died and Wilhelmina the only person with her, except for little Vicki, well, it set tongues in this town to wagging.”

  Addie had sat there trying to take it all in, trying not to miss a single word, and yet, as totally confused as she had ever been in her life. Finally, she asked, “What about the house on South Street? They had to have lived there at some time.”

  “They did,” Gramps said. “You see, the log house sat up there on that hill with no neighbors or anything around except for Stonegate across the river, and then there was no bridge for awhile. Dane was already building the house on South Street, and although it wasn’t finished when Miss Meleah died, he moved his little family into it right afterwards. And Aunt Sarah said that Wild Willy had moved the Stonegate housekeeper, a Miss Gussie, in with them to take care of the baby and little Vicki.

  “Then Willy, herself, pitched right in helping them two motherless children just like they were her own. Of course, that divided the town’s gossips from the admirers.”

  “What happened to the family? Where did they go?” Addie wanted to know.

  “Where did they go?” Gramps repeated as he looked out across the yard for a few moments, his hands clasped tightly between his knees.

  Addie waited impatiently.

  “My pa used to say that some families in this world were just plain cursed, and I reckon, if that’s possible – then Julian Dane’s family was one of them. The summer that baby, Nicki was three...”

  “Nicki!” Addie exclaimed in unison with Donnie as he looked at her.

  “Yes. Nicki,” Gramps said in surprise, looking at the two of them. “Nickelos was the baby’s name.”

  “Oh,” was all Addie could say as she waited to hear what had become of them. For apparently, it was not going to be anything good.

  “Like I said, the baby was retarded,” Gramps continued. Aunt Sarah said that at three and a half, he couldn’t walk or talk. He could crawl a bit though. It was real hot that summer, and according to Aunt Sarah, the story was that Nicki was put down for a nap on a pallet in front of the open kitchen door because it would be cooler than his bed. Then the door to the stairway and the door to the widow’s walk had been opened to draw air through the house. Wilhelmina had laid down on the couch in the living room because of the heat. Miss Gussie had gone to the grocery store, and Vicki was at school. School had just started.

  “According to Wilhelmina, Nicki must have awakened from his nap and crawled up the stairs to the second floor, then up the stairway to the widow’s walk...”

  “But, Gramps,” Donnie interrupted, “that house doesn’t have a widow’s walk.”

  “Sure it does,” Gramps said. “That’s a flat place on the top of the roof with a short picket fence around it.”

  “I know what it is,” Donnie said, “but that house ... But it could have had one,” he added thoughtfully. “The house is flat on top. That’s what makes it look a little odd. A widow’s walk was the finishing touch.”

  “Well, it had one then,” Gramps assured him, “and little Nicki got up there somehow. And Vicki came in from school and saw him up there. She ran up the stairs to rescue him, but something happened. Somehow, Vicki fell off the roof. The railing around the widow’s walk just seemed to have given way, Aunt Sarah said in her letter. And Vicki landed on the concrete walk in front of the house. She died soon after they got her to the hospital. Wilhelmina rescued little Nicki.”

  “Oh, how terrible!” Addie exclaimed. And for some strange reason, she felt like a personal tragedy had just befallen her.

  Gramps continued quietly. “I guess Julian Dane didn’t do anything that any other man in his shoes wouldn’t have done – losing his wife and little girl, and left with a retarded son, he just couldn’t take it. He left the hospital after little Vicki died, went to the river and drowned himself.”

  Addie’s mouth flew open in shock.

  “Yep,” Gramps said. “They never did find his body, just his car beside the bridge with his coat and wallet in it.”

  “Oh, that poor family!” Addie exclaimed. “It all sounds so hard to believe.”

  “It sure was tragic,” Donnie said.

  “Gramps, how old was little Vicki?” Addie asked.

  “Well, she started school the year they came here, so she must have been in her tenth year when she died. Is her age important?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. Everything about them is important to me,” She answered. “I sure appreciate your taking the time...”

  “Well, here’s Meloney and Nathanial. I guess church let out on time,” Gramps said cheerfully. “But now, young lady, what is your connection to Julian Dane that you can look so much like him?”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Addie exclaimed. “I have to get home!” Impulsively, she put her arms around Gramps and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Gramps, and you too, Donnie,” And she ran off the porch to her bike, as the Johnsons were getting out of their car.

  She said good morning to the Johnsons as she straddled her bike, and saw the suspicious look Mrs. Johnson gave her. She ignored her. She had to get home. Her mother would be so worried, and she had so much to tell her. There was so much that had to be reasoned out, so much that didn’t make sense.

  To them, it had seemed that the lady’s baby would have been of an age to be
the man who Della had met in the lane, the man who had made her pregnant – her father, Julian Dane’s son. But if the child was retarded as Gramps had said, then that couldn’t be. No! Julian Dane’s son couldn’t possibly be her father. So who was the man in the lane? The man whom she looked ‘the spitting image of’ as Gramps had said.

  She was racing along the street as fast as she dared go, keeping a watchful eye out for cars. Her mind was busily going over all that she had just learned. There was so much, yet, not enough. She must not forget a word of what Gramps had told her. But the more she thought, the more confused she became. Julian Dane’s son was not her father. Julian Dane was dead. But the photograph – when her mother had colored the man’s hair red with the lipstick – it was like looking at a picture of herself with short hair. Then, the thought that exploded in her mind caused her to exclaim aloud, “No! No! That’s not possible! That cannot be!” But a voice within her did not agree.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Della, in her bathrobe, was just coming into the kitchen when Addie came through the back door. All the information she had learned from Gramps had had time to come together in her mind, and the question that had gone around and around in her head, like the wheels of her bike, had finally found its answer. There was only one. It was impossible, and illogical to say the least, but not inconceivable to her. After all, who better than she knew that there were some things in life that were unexplainable, but would her mother believe her? Would she think she was absolutely crazy?

  “Hi, Mama.”

  “Hi, honey. Thanks for letting me sleep. I didn’t do much of it last night. I was getting worried about you. This is a little late for getting home from Sunday school.”

  Addie hugged her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “I know I’m late, and I’m sorry I worried you. Has daddy called?” She knew he wasn’t home – his truck wasn’t outside.

  Della was making a cup of instant coffee. She reached up and shook out her hair, which was wet from her shower.

  “No, honey, he hasn’t,” she said flatly.

  “Are you mad at him?”

  “I was at first. He shouldn’t have said what he did, but I know he didn’t mean it.”

  “He must be mad at you, or he’d come home – wouldn’t he?” Addie asked as she took off her jacket, draped it over a chair, and sat down at the table

  “I don’t know,” Della answered. “I hope not, because then, I suppose it would mean that he believed that I went off into the woods with any man who came along.” She sat down at the table with her cup of coffee and a dry piece of toast. “Honey, I love Ben so much, and I understand him too well to stay angry with him over his outbursts of temper. And I’m so grateful to him, that no matter what he said or did, I’d forgive him.” She looked at her daughter lovingly. “If it hadn’t been for Ben, I’d never have gotten to raise you. Or even to have known you.”

  Addie looked at her mother, a frown on her face, as she placed the photograph on the table between them.

  “Addie, honey, I didn’t have a very good home life while I was growing up. You know that. I’ve answered enough of your questions about my past. When I learned I was pregnant – well, Odell decided he would beat me until I told him who was responsible. I couldn’t tell him something I didn’t know, so my mother helped me to get away from him. Ben found me running away. He was on his way to Nashville, and he took me with him. Otherwise, I would have ended up in a home for unwed mothers and you would have been adopted.”

  There was silence between them for a few moments. Then, “Mama, I know who the man was,” Addie said quietly, “and it wasn’t the son of the man in this picture.”

  Della dropped her piece of toast into her cup of coffee. “What do you mean? How do you know?” she asked in surprise.

  “I didn’t go to church. I went over on Forest Lane where the Johnsons live ...”

  “Addie Martin! What am I going to do with you about going all over town on that bicycle. All that way! We’re just going to have to lay down some rules ...”

  “Mama!” Addie exclaimed impatiently. “Listen to me! I have something very important to tell you.” She pleaded. “And I didn’t intend to go that far. My bike just seemed to head that way, and I can’t promise you that I won’t do it again. I don’t seem to be the one who is making all of my decisions right now.”

  “Oh, baby,” Della said lovingly, “I understand, but please be careful.”

  “I always try to be, Mama. I never want to worry you.”

  “Thank you, dear, but now, tell me what it is that you know. How could it have been anyone other than that man’s son?”

  “That man’s name is Julian Dane.”

  “Julian Dane,” Della said thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard that name before. How did you learn this?”

  “Donnie Whitefield’s grandfather is visiting him. He lived in Riverbend when he was a teenager. He delivered groceries for his father, and the Dane family was one of his customers. They lived in the log house then, and, Mama, he was there the day the picture was taken.”

  Della’s eyes were wide with surprise. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed. What a coincidence!”

  “He was so startled when he saw me. He said I was the spitting image of Julian Dane, and, Mama, the baby Julian Dane’s wife had – well, it was a boy, but he wasn’t my father because he was severely retarded.”

  Stunned, Della said, “But that can’t be, that’s impossible!”

  “I know, Mama. I felt the same way when Gramps told me, but it’s true.” Addie paused and looked straight at her mother. “So there’s only one other answer, isn’t there, Mama?”

  “Addie! What are you suggesting? I told you he was a young man – probably in his thirties, early thirties, I’d say.”

  “He was also dead, Mama!” Addie stated with finality.

  “Dead! Dead!” Della gasped, and turned a little pale.

  “Mama! Are you all right?”

  “Yes – yes, honey, I guess so. But I think you’d better tell me everything you know about this Julian Dane and his family.”

  “Oh, Mama, you’ll never believe the tragic life that they had,” Addie said, and then proceeded to relate to her mother all that Gramps had told her about the Dane family and Wilhelmina Stone.

  Della listened quietly to every word until Addie asked again, “So, Mama, since it’s not possible for Julian Dane’s son to have been my father, and since I look exactly like Julian Dane, he had to have been my father. He was the right age…”

  Della knew exactly what Addie was saying, and it frightened her. “Donnie’s grandfather must have been mistaken about the baby.”

  “No, Mama. Gramps wasn’t mistaken about the baby, or about Julian Dane being dead. His daughter Vicki died too, but her memory and her mind still live inside me – HIS OTHER DAUGHTER! Mama!”

  “Don’t say that, Addie! Don’t even think it! That can’t be!” she added quickly.

  Her mother was so bewildered, so distraught that Addie felt sorry for her, but this was important. “Do you have another answer, Mama? Do you?” Addie demanded.

  “No! No! No!” Della answered loudly. “But ghosts don’t go around begetting children!”

  “I guess they don’t go walking around just like anybody else either. Was it Julian Dane that Brother Morris saw? Or was it somebody who just happened to look like him – and me?”

  Both were quiet – Addie waiting for an answer, and Della looking thoughtfully at the picture on the table in front of her.

  Finally, Della seemed to calm down. “The little girl – Vicki, you said her name was, we can’t deny her existence. Apparently she’s been with you since you were born,” Della said quietly. “Oh, Addie, my darling,” she added, taking her daughter’s hands in hers from where they lay on the table beside the photograph. “What can I say? It does seem to be the only answer. I guess we have to accept it – to believe it. But, Addie, no one else would, especially Ben.”

  “I know that, Mama.
I can’t believe it’s possible myself, and I promise never to discuss it with anyone.”

  “Thank you, honey. You continue to amaze me, how mature you are for your sixteen years. And I promise you, that we’re going to get this whole matter settled and out of our lives. I know there must be help for us somewhere, and we’re going to find it.”

  That was one thing Addie didn’t agree with her mother about, but she thought it best not to say anything. “I’m hungry,” she said smiling at her mother.

  “Oh, I know you must be. How about a sandwich and some fruit for now?”

  Addie agreed, knowing that Della was hoping that they would all be sitting around the supper table together, enjoying her good stew.

  As she was making herself a sandwich, she asked, “Can you believe what Gramps said about Miss Willy?”

  “I knew she was called Wild Willy when she was young. Some of the older ladies at church like to brag about knowing her before she shut herself away in that house, but, honey, I can’t believe Miss Willy would ever do anything to harm anyone. Why, she is the benefactor to this whole town. Some of the people of Riverbend owe their very existence to her generosity, and they know it. And our church couldn’t make it without her assistance. I wouldn’t want you to ever repeat anything detrimental of Miss Willy. All right?”

  “I wouldn’t, Mama, but I couldn’t help wondering if what happened to the Dane family had anything to do with her becoming a hermit. Apparently, she stopped leaving Stonegate at about the same time that Julian Dane drowned himself.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call her a hermit,” Della said absently.

  Addie could tell her mother’s thoughts were elsewhere, and she understood. It was an awesome idea – her being fathered by a man who had been dead for more than thirty years when it happened. Addie didn’t want to think about it, and she felt sure her mother didn’t either, but couldn’t help herself. Then a new thought occurred to her, and she couldn’t help but voice it. “Vicki Dane was my sister! I have a sister!” she exclaimed.