The Meadowlark Sings

by Helen Ruth Schwartz

  "When can I meet with her?" asked Cara, her heart beating so fast, she wondered if she would live long enough.

  "Wednesday, Mom will be coming to my house for dinner. That would be a perfect time. It'll be just the two of us. My husband—he's also a journalist—is in Europe on assignment for the next month. You can join my mother and me for coffee." Now fully relaxed, Sherry smiled the smile that Cara had found so spectacular when they first met.

  "It's good to see that happy expression again," she stated with a wink. "Wednesday is fine. Write down the address and plan on my arrival after nine o'clock." Hesitatingly, she looked at the clock and began gathering her things, preparing to leave. No, she thought. I've got to give her warning. "Sherry, I won't be coming alone. There's a woman I met in New York who will be with me." She watched Sherry's expression change to bewilderment. "I will be glad to help your mother, but I also need to ask her to do something for me. I need to have your mother access Scarpetti gene records to determine whether this woman tested positive or negative in 2026.''

  "Hell," said Sherry scratching her head in thought, "she must be negative or she would have been shipped to Cali by her third birthday."

  Leaning over the table to block out any possibility of being overheard, Cara spoke softly. "I'm not sure. This woman and I have become lovers." She hesitated for what seemed forever. "Her name is Jessica Mooran," she finally divulged.

  "Holy shit!" was all Sherry said.

  Twenty-Four

  "My father is the president of the United States. I've met queens and kings and emperors," said Jessica as she kept shifting her weight and rubbing her hands nervously in the limousine, "but I don't remember ever being this hyper."

  "Relax, my love." Cara smiled, trying to convey a confidence she wasn't sure she felt. "Just keep in mind what Tim said. This woman is on our side. She is a lesbian. She is also the lover of the prime minister of Call."

  "I think that's what's making me nervous. Your prime minister scares me."

  "Miriam Ekstrom? She's wonderful. A big teddy bear. Think of her as a lesbian Golda Meir."

  "Who is Golda Meir?" asked a bewildered Jessica as she teasingly threatened to start biting her fingernails.

  "Just a lady from Milwaukee." Cara smiled, pressing the button to cut off the video to the driver's section. "As soon as we get to Cali, you, dear heart, are going to get an intensive lesson in women's history." Grabbing her hands, she kissed the tips of each of her fingers.

  Smiling reassuringly to Jessica, she rang the bell to Sherry Ryan's house at precisely 9:00 p.m.

  "Ms. Romero, Ms. Mooran, it's a pleasure to welcome you to my home," said Sherry, hands trembling as she opened the door. "Please come with me." They followed her into the small living room, where Cara, who had become increasingly fond of the American reporter, warmly hugged her. "Please call me Cara outside of the formality of the conference center."

  "And I'm Jessica." Reaching out to shake her hand, she thought better of it and grabbed Sherry in a quick hug instead.

  "I can't believe it. One day I'm standing outside the Southwind Hotel and a few days later, I'm being hugged by the daughter of the president of the United States. Life really is a blast."

  "I'm Barbra Weissman," interrupted a slight woman who entered the living room through a side door. A measurable silence permeated the air as Cara stepped back to study Miriam Ekstrom's lover. Barbra, much tinier than she had anticipated, surprised Cara with her delicate, almost fragile appearance. She and her biological daughter had little in common. Barbra was petite; the glasses perched on her nose almost too large for the small oval face, which bore more wrinkles than could be explained by time alone. The years had not graced her well. Heavy eyelids covering light brown eyes saddened her, while graying hair portrayed a pale, faded impression. But there was a dignity about the woman, an elegance that conveyed good manners and quality breeding, and when she spoke, the melodious voice rang with a seductive quality. This is a woman people listen to, thought Cara.

  Without hesitation, Barbra assumed leadership of the meeting as she warmly shook hands with the two women. "I'm pleased to meet you both, of course, but I'm especially pleased to meet a co-worker of Miriam's," she smiled, surprising Cara with an early acknowledgment of her relationship with the prime minister. "I know why you have come to visit. My daughter told me about your luncheon. Why don't we get to know one another and enjoy some coffee or tea and dessert before we begin our discussions." Nervously, her fingers rubbed a pin that was affixed to the collar of her pale gray business suit. When she moved her hand, Jessica saw the engraved initials "M.E."

  Following her lead, Jessica and Cara helped themselves to the beverages and finger cakes brought in by Sherry, and conversed casually with their hostesses about ordinary things.

  Putting her cup back down on the table and removing her napkin from her lap, Barbra signaled that she was ready for the more serious issues. "I understand," she said, looking at Cara, "that one of your missions, assigned to you by Sherry, is to aid me in emigrating to Cali. The question, of course, is not whether I would be allowed into Cali, but whether I wish to go." She smiled politely at her listeners. "I know I will disappoint you, but I cannot answer that question at this time.

  There are many things I have to consider before I make that decision. 1 have to consider that going to Cali may mean that I will never see Sherry again." She reached over and affectionately squeezed her daughter's hand. "I also have to consider how my immigration would affect the life of Miriam Ekstrom."

  In the pause that followed, Cara began to speak, "The prime min—"

  "I'm not asking you for an answer, Cara," interrupted Barbra. "Nor am I asking a question to which you could possibly know the correct response. Only one person can determine how my immigration would affect Miriam Ekstrom, and that person, of course, is Miriam Ekstrom. Now, if you want to help me—"

  Unhesitatingly, Cara nodded.

  "Then this is what I would like for you to do. During your break in Cali, before your final week in New York, I would like you to ask your prime minister a question. Ask her if there are slippers in the closet."

  Cara, expecting Barbra to continue, suddenly realized that she was waiting for her to speak. "I'm not sure I understand. Let me make absolutely certain that I'm hearing you right. You want me to ask Ms. Ekstrom, 'are there slippers in the closet?'"

  "Yes," answered Barbra patiently, "just like that. She will understand the question. And if she doesn't understand, then that will be my answer."

  When she grasped that there would be no further explanations, Cara pressed the record button on her watch and with a sheepish, shy smile, said aloud, "Are there slippers in the closet?"

  "Good," said Barbra, clapping her hands to indicate that she was finished with that topic. "Now, what can I do to help you?"

  In detail, Cara and Jessica described their relationship, Jessica's desire to go to Cali, and the problem concerning the Scarpetti gene. "And so that's it," summarized Cara. "We have been told that there could have been no error on the test, which leaves us with the possibility of Jessica's records being improperly categorized at the Scarpetti Center as gene negative."

  "That's a remote possibility, but it is a possibility," agreed Barbra.

  "Mom, you can access the computer's files, can't you?" asked Sherry, her voice squeaking in urgency.

  "Relax, dear," she chided her daughter. "Yes. Because of my work on the Fantasia, I am one of the stipulated-by-name persons who can access Scarpetti files." Smiling broadly, Jessica turned to Cara, and quickly kissed her on the cheek.

  "I'm sure my name has not yet been removed from the list," Barbra continued. "Elimination or addition generally takes about six months. However, I think it would be wise if I did not attend to the matter before Sunday. There are too many people present on other days who may remember that I no longer work for the government. Yes, I think Sunday would be most favorable."

  Walking over and hugging the surprised Barb
ra, who felt even tinier to Cara as she leaned over and wrapped her arms around her, she tried not to sound too hopeful. "Thank you, Dr. Weissman. Thank you for trying on our behalf."

  "You're very welcome. But please keep in mind that all I can do is access the records and review them. If the records state that Jessica is Scarpetti-gene negative, there is nothing that I can do to alter them."

  "Yes, we both understand," volunteered Jessica sadly.

  For the next hour, the four women spoke as old friends. Cara, enjoying the unique opportunity to share with a group of American women, joined in the laughter as she described her diverse experiences in New York. "Seeing a female prostitute was quite a shock, but seeing my first pregnant female was even more astonishing. I couldn't imagine what was wrong with this woman and so there I stood in the conference center elevator just staring at her. After a few seconds passed, she asked me if I wanted to feel the baby kick, and I looked around the elevator, trying to find the baby. I was red-faced for the next several days over that one."

  "Don't Calian women ever become pregnant? Do they always adopt? How about artificial insemination?" asked Sherry.

  "My dear Sherry, no respectable Calian woman would chance having a baby that would turn out to be heterosexual and have to be deported," said Barbra. "And there's a good chance that's what would happen. After all, you were the product of artificial insemination ... a very gay man and a very gay woman. Unless there's something you're not telling me, we produced a very heterosexual baby."

  After the laughter died, Barbra, who had been chortling as heartily as any of them, became serious again. "Cara, I want you to know how very proud I am of you and Tim Felmar. I've been following the extensive publicity you have received, and you have both made a very fine impression upon the parents of Cali's babies." She reached into a pocket and, removing a tissue, gently dabbed at her eyes. "Surrendering a child is one of life's most painful experiences. I felt its touch thirty-five years ago, when I thought of giving up my own infant. And I saw it every day on the docks of the Fantasia." She sighed deeply, her mind reliving the chaotic scenes of screaming women proclaiming their agony. "To the mothers who live with that pain, you and Mr. Felmar represent their lost children. You have given them hope that the lives of their offspring will be better than their own. Your countrymen and countrywomen should be very pleased with what you have accomplished here."

  Cara squirmed in her chair, appreciating the words, yet uncomfortable with her role as heroine to a society from which she had been discarded. "Thank you for the kind words, Dr. Weissman. The Americans have been very gracious to me, but I still don't understand why—if they recognize themselves as our family—why do they allow the Olms to continue to persecute gays and lesbians?"

  "Because we wimps are afraid of them," responded Sherry. "The bastards hold this country hostage through fear, intimidation, and the invocation of the name of God. They preach insane and screwed-up doctrines of hatred and violence, and we listen."

  "All that is changing, dear," exclaimed Barbra, placing her hand lightly on her daughter's arm to restrain her from further eruptions. "Since that horrible beating of Brian Rayford, the gentleman from your country, the Olms have dwindled in number and power. When there are too few left to capitalize on the fears of the weakest among us, America will embrace all of her children."

  "Dr. Weissman, are you saying that the day will come when the United States will stop banishing homosexuals?" asked Jessica, not cjuite sure that Cara wanted to hear the answer.

  "Yes. Yes, I certainly am. And you, my dear," she asked, turning to Cara, "what do you think about that possibility? What do you think Cali will do if America stops exiling its homosexuals to your island?"

  "We will do the same thing that we would do in the event that the United States reestablished abortion to eliminate the Scarpetti gene. We would institute a genetic alteration program that would enable the women of Cali'to produce homosexual children. And, naturally, we would continue to accept voluntary Scarpetti-positive immigrants."

  "So, there will always be a Cali," smiled Barbra.

  "Yes!" exclaimed Cara with unmistakable passion.

  "Such lovely people," proclaimed Barbra after Cara and Jessica took their leave, Barbra promising to let them know the results of her Scarpetti Center visit by Monday. "Now dear," she announced, turning to her daughter with her hands clasped in front of her in school-marm fashion, "you and I need to have a serious talk about our future."

  "How did I know that was coming?" sighed Sherry.

  Twenty-Five

  The four days till Monday passed with the lumbering grace of a turtle.

  "How can it be that you leave in less than nine days and each minute seems like an hour?" asked Jessica as they sat in the entertainment room on Friday night. "1 would expect it to seem as though time is flying."

  "And for sure, that's the way it will seem once we get past Monday. So, my love, let's not rush these minutes. I want to enjoy them to the fullest."

  "And we will, because I have a surprise for you," announced Jessica, biting her lower lip mischievously, her eyes grinning with excitement.

  "You are my surprise," responded Cara, reaching over and brushing the soft black hair with her fingertips.

  "No. This is a real surprise!" she said emphatically as she crossed the room to the cabinet opposite and returned with a pile of what appeared to be flat cardboard packages. Pulling out a black, circular disc, she explained, "This is called a record. There's one in each of these cardboard holders, known as jackets. There's music on here that can be played on a phonograph machine. They were actually made between I960 and 1985."

  Cara looked at her quizzically.

  "That's the way they recorded music in those days…on phonograph records. I remembered them when you were at the conference today and I rummaged through the Hargreaves collection—most of it is stored on the second floor—until I found them. And," she smiled seductively, "I even found the phonograph machine. If you are real nice to me, I might play some romantic records for you."

  "How nice is real nice?" asked Cara, trying to conceal her aroused grin.

  "Nice enough to join me for a midnight swim ... in the nude."

  "Why you little imp!" she laughed, pulling Jessica down on the couch and covering her face with kisses. "You would trade anything for a swim in the nude."

  "Sunday night? A date on the beach?" Her left eyebrow rose flirtatiously.

  "Deal!"

  Again checking the switches on the control table to make sure that the entrances to the entertainment room were locked with a dead bolt, Jessica wrapped herself around Cara and kissed her longingly. "I lived twenty-nine years without ever comprehending the meaning of lust. And now it totally consumes me."

  Tenderly, they made love to the sounds of k. d. lang, Barbra Streisand, Dinah Washington, and others whose songs were obliterated by their increasing passion.

  "I have to leave for DC tomorrow morning," Jessica said as they lay quietly on the couch, the voice of Patsy Cline filling the room. Seeing the disappointment on Cara's face, she quickly added, "I didn't want to upset you before we made love."

  "Why?"

  "Why didn't I want to upset you before we made love?" teased Jessica, trying to prolong their contented mood.

  "No," she responded, jabbing her gently with an elbow. "You know what I mean. Why do you have to go to DC?"

  "My father returned from his Asian tour on Wednesday. Tomorrow night he's hosting the annual diplomatic reception. It's an event in which I've participated as his hostess. I can't say no to him."

  "Jessica, you know that once you go to Cali, you will probably never see your father again." Somberly, she turned her head so that she was looking directly into the muted gray eyes. "Is this a problem we need to discuss further?" Maybe, Cara thought uneasily, this is where the search for truth ends.

  "Oh, Cara, I know what you must be thinking. But, that's not it. I haven't seen him for four weeks and I don't know how
to say no to him without having to explain things. Until we know something definite, there's no reason for me to upset him. Please trust me," she said with a sincerity that could not he questioned. "When will you be returning?"

  "Sunday evening ... in plenty of time for our midnight swim." "I didn't think you'd miss that," she said, trying to smile.

  Twenty-Six

  Jody waited for the phone to ring four times before she finally turned it on. She had just walked into the kitchen to put breakfast in the cookery when it began its insistent wail. Margo was still asleep, and she had no interest in exchanging telephone pleasantries on a Saturday morning when the day off gave her the opportunity to return to bed and cuddle with Margo while their meal was being prepared.

  "Wait a minute," she responded when she recognized Cara's voice. "Before you say anything, let me check the line lor clearance." After a brief pause, she came back on the receiver. "No good. The audio is bugged. Hang in.…Ah hah," she exclaimed proudly a few seconds later, "the video is cleared. No problem. We'll sign."

  Cara related her success in finding Barbra and their subsequent meeting at Sherry's house, carefully omitting any mention of Jessica.

  Jody, visibly excited, signed, "What do you think? Will she come to Cali?"

  "I don't know. Sherry wants her to go, so I don't think that will be an issue. Apparently, it's going to depend on how the prime minister answers a question Barbra instructed me to ask."

  "What's the question?" asked Jody.