by Terri DuLong
I sat on the sofa and Ben sat beside me as I looked around. The room had a cozy quality with an entire wall of books, comfortable furniture; I heard a Mozart symphony playing softly from speakers in the wall.
Hannah walked to me and I smiled as I patted her. “You’re a very pretty girl,” I said.
A few minutes later Sebine returned to the room and placed the vase on a side table before sitting down across from us.
She shook her head. “I almost wondered if I’d dreamed this. Finally hearing from you and getting to see you again.” A smile crossed her face. “Your mother used to sit in that very spot knitting. You remind me a lot of her.”
“How did she end up coming here? You didn’t know each other before she came to stay?”
“No. It was a leap of faith on her part, coming to live with two strangers.”
“Oh, you had a husband? You were married?”
A sad expression crossed her face. “No. Never married. But I had a partner. Back then she was referred to as my friend. But Lillian was my life partner. Our relationship would be much more accepted today. Lillian was the family doctor here in town. She had taken over her grandfather’s practice and for the most part, people accepted us.”
My mother had come to live with two lesbians? She had always been liberal and open-minded but she had never told me this. It made me love her courage a little more.
“Is Lillian still here?” I asked.
“No. I’m afraid not. She passed away five years ago. But we had a long and happy life together. I still miss her every day, though.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. My sister was in charge of the girls who came to work at Broadglen’s. You knew Rhonda left Pennsylvania to work there, right?”
I nodded and she continued.
“When your mother found herself pregnant, she didn’t know what to do. She did know she wanted the baby but for various reasons, she felt telling your father would be a mistake. So my sister contacted me, and Lillian and I discussed the situation. We wanted to help her. We wanted to allow her to live here where she’d have no pressure and would be able to make intelligent decisions for herself and her baby.”
“That was extremely kind of you,” I said. “It was a leap of faith on your part as well. And I’m sure my mother thanked you many times, but I also want to thank you for giving her that chance.”
Sebine smiled. “I had the utmost faith in Rhonda the moment I met her. I knew she would do just fine. And she did. She was an excellent mother. She worked in Lillian’s office until she returned to Pennsylvania. And she fulfilled the major request we made of her—got an education. Lillian and I both strongly felt that education is what opens a multitude of doors for women.”
“You were feminists,” I said.
She laughed. “Yes, we were, and I think by the time your mother left us, she was too.”
Now I laughed. “Oh, trust me. She was. She worked at the university as a secretary for years, and she was always getting involved in issues. I was proud of her. She taught me to be my own person and to be strong.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sebine said.
“Right. But I’m beginning to see now that her beliefs—she developed them right here with you and Lillian.”
Her smile widened. “I’d like to think that’s true. We adored Rhonda. And you? We understood when she felt she had to return to Pennsylvania because her mother was ill, but oh, how we missed both of you. You were truly the apple of our eyes.”
“Do you think if my grandmother hadn’t gotten sick, she would have stayed here?”
Sebine nodded. “I do. She was happy here. She loved her job. She said many times that the four of us had formed our own family. And we had.”
“Did she ever tell you why she didn’t want to tell my father that she was pregnant?”
“Unfortunately, it all had to do with money and class. She felt Peter’s world was so different from hers that any relationship between them could never work.”
“What did you think?”
She let out a sigh. “I thought perhaps she was right. She never told Peter, but right before she made the decision to leave, she had been approached by Peter’s father. He didn’t even know she was pregnant but . . . he offered her money to leave the area and get out of Peter’s life.”
I gasped. “Oh, my God. What a terrible thing to do.”
Sebine nodded. “It was, but I think it convinced your mother that there was no hope of a relationship with Peter. They could have left the area, of course, but that would have brought even more difficulties. I think for a young girl of nineteen, she made a very mature choice.”
I always knew my mother was strong, but I was coming to see she had more strength than I’d been aware of.
“Your mother told me she had been invited to dinner once at Peter’s home. His father was very condescending. She said she didn’t want to come between Peter and his father, but she also knew she couldn’t tolerate Mr. Maxwell’s behavior. What ever became of the Maxwell home in Amelia Island? You said your father passed away. Does his sister still own it?”
I shook my head. “No. Elaine told me that my father sold it about ten years ago, after his wife passed away. The new owners have turned the property into an inn.”
“Oh, he did marry?”
“Yes. But not till he was almost forty, and it was to somebody named Marion. He had known her since childhood.”
“I remember that name. Your mother told me she met her once at the hotel dining room when Peter’s father had her join them for dinner. Did they have children?”
“No. So I was his only child.”
She nodded sadly. “I’m so sorry you didn’t have the chance to meet him.”
“But you did,” I said. “Could you tell me about him?”
“Of course I will. But let’s have lunch first. I have many questions for you as well, and then we’ll continue with the past.”
Chapter 23
Following lunch, Ben and I joined Sebine on the patio for coffee. The moment I walked out there, I had another sense of déjà vu. It looked identical to the painting, except the Adirondack chairs were now painted red rather than blue.
The three of us sat down, and Hannah curled up at Sebine’s feet.
“This is a lovely spot,” I said. “And that’s your art studio?” I pointed to the wooden structure next door.
“Yes, it is. We had many nice times out here when you were a baby. Your mother had you in a playpen and the three of us would sit here knitting or reading.”
“Wasn’t it an intrusion having a woman and her baby staying with you?”
“Oh, goodness. Not at all. Both of you brought happiness and love into our home. No, Lillian and I never once thought it was an intrusion. Quite the opposite.”
I reached into the tote bag I’d brought with me and removed the framed photo of my parents. I got up and passed it to Sebine. “Elaine found this snapshot in my father’s belongings and had it enlarged to give to me.”
Sebine adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and nodded. “So Peter did have one photo of the two of them together. I remember your mother did feel bad about that. That she didn’t even have a photo to keep. She had told me about this day when they went out on the boat. Peter had a camera with him and asked a man on the dock to snap the picture.” She became quiet as she stared at the photo and then said, “They certainly did love each other. By the time Rhonda moved back to Pennsylvania, she had become accepting of the situation and the way things turned out. And I have no doubt she was grateful for having Peter in her life—even for such a short time.”
I reached back into the tote and passed her the black-and-white snapshot. “This is my mother on the beach with me. Is this Jim Garfield? The man she married?”
“Oh, my goodness,” she said, looking down at the photo in her hand. She then shook her head. “No. It isn’t. Petra . . . there was no Jim Garfield.”
“She made him up?
She was never married?”
Sebine nodded. “Yes, she did. She felt she had to. Society has changed tremendously since 1970. Being an unwed mother happened back then. Of course it did. But there was a huge stigma attached to that label. Even if a woman did marry, she often changed the marriage date so the child would never know the woman was pregnant when the marriage took place. It was a very judgmental time. So yes, Jim Garfield was fiction, and so was the story she told you about him.”
“Then who is this?” I asked, pointing to the fellow in the photo.
A smile crossed Sebine’s face. “Ah, that was Cal. Cal Hampton. His father owned the pharmacy in town. He was a very good friend to your mother. It didn’t matter to him that she was single and pregnant when he first met her at the drug store. He genuinely liked her. But I also think he had a crush on her.”
“And my mother wasn’t interested?”
Sebine laughed. “Not in the least. But I know she felt grateful to have Cal as a friend. She never made any female friendships while she was here, so I know she appreciated his companionship. He took her to the movies, out to eat, and to the beach. But it was strictly platonic.”
“Does he still live in the area?”
“No. Cal enlisted in the army and was killed in Vietnam, I’m afraid. He was only twenty-two when he died. His family and the community took it very badly. Especially your mother.”
“What a shame,” I said, as I realized that Cal’s death was the inspiration for Jim Garfield’s.
Sebine flipped the photo over and saw Peter Maxwell written there.
Confusion covered her face. “Your mother wrote Peter’s name on the photo?”
“Yes, and when I found the photo after she died, I naturally assumed this photo was of him. And since he was pictured here with her when I was a baby, I began to think that he was really my father and not the man she married, Jim Garfield. It wasn’t until I met Elaine that the pieces began to fall in place. But I still have no idea why she put my father’s real name on the back of this photo.”
“Oh, I think I do,” Sebine said and took a sip of her coffee as I sat down across from her. “Your mother loved puzzles and mysteries. She was always reading mystery novels and doing various word puzzles. This was a clue for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I have no doubt that she thought if you did find this photo some day after she was gone, you would see his name. The name of your biological father. And this would lead you to discover the truth and reveal all the secrets.”
“So you think she actually wanted me to find out everything?”
Sebine nodded. “I do. As I said, I stayed in touch with your mother over the years after she left here. A number of times I had asked her if I could contact you. I knew when you had moved to Jacksonville. You were now living in the same city that I was. But your mother requested that I not get in touch. She was afraid something would slip. In all honesty, I don’t think she ever wanted to have to be the one to explain everything to you. If you found out on your own after she was gone, she could accept that. So I think putting his name on this photo allowed her to think that might happen.”
I let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right. She was such a private person, and yet, she was quite liberal in her way of thinking. I’m not surprised that she would do this. She was still embarrassed, but she knew I would be much more willing to accept what society had once frowned upon.”
“Exactly,” Sebine said.
“And when you met my father ten years ago? My mother was still alive. Did you tell her you met him? Did he make the connection that you knew her because of the painting?”
Sebine nodded. “I had a gallery showing downtown and he was there. I had a painting of this patio and one of your mother on the beach. This stranger walked toward me, and I saw the look on his face as he stood in front of the portrait of your mother. He was truly mesmerized, and I knew it had nothing to do with the talent of the artist—it was the subject. And I also immediately knew he had to be Peter Maxwell. He confirmed this when he asked me if the girl in the painting was Rhonda Bradley.”
“Wow,” I said. “What was he like?”
She paused a moment before saying, “A man with a broken heart. The love he still carried for Rhonda was written on his face. He had a million questions, but I didn’t mention you, and all I told him was that yes, she had come to stay with me during that time, that she’d attended secretarial school in the area and then returned to Pennsylvania. Of course he asked if we were still in touch and . . . I told him no. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t feel it was my place to expose your mother’s secret.”
“And you told my mother about this meeting?”
“I did. Actually, he had given me his business card and said if I ever heard from her to please let her know how to reach him. I told her. But she was adamant in her refusal. She said it was too late. She felt the past should remain in the past.”
I nodded. “Those were the words I heard all during my childhood whenever I asked her questions about my father or his family.”
“We may not agree with her, Petra. But we do have to respect her choices and the decisions she made. It was her life, after all, and she lived it the way she thought best. Another thing I want you to know . . . I think she also made many of her decisions to protect you.”
“Protect me? Why?”
“She knew the complications that could develop if she chose to tell Peter about her pregnancy. His father would have been heavily involved, despite Peter’s efforts. Franklin Maxwell was well known in the area because of his business. And he had money. Lots of it. I don’t think she wanted to risk possibly losing you.”
Things were beginning to make more and more sense. I nodded. “I see what you’re saying. The rich have their own moral code. Who’s to say my grandfather wouldn’t judge her to be an unfit mother. It wouldn’t be the first time that money trumped what was right.”
“Exactly. Do you have any other questions?”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. I feel you have provided the final missing pieces, and I can’t thank you enough for helping me to unravel the entire story.”
Sebine smiled. “It was my pleasure. Now you can tell me about your life and bring me up to date. This handsome man you brought with you . . . it must be serious?”
She took me off guard; I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. “Oh . . . well . . . I’m not . . .”
Ben reached for my hand and smiled. “We’re working on it,” he said. “We’re working on it.”
Chapter 24
Ben and I left Sebine’s house around four. Just like when I had met Elaine, I was left with a lot of new information to process, but I felt good. Part of me felt sad for my mother and what she had lost, but I also realized it had been her life and her choices. What made me feel good was that I now knew about the love my parents had shared for each other. I was the product of that love.
“Doing okay?” Ben asked, reaching for my hand as we headed back to Ormond Beach.
I shot him a smile and nodded. “Yes. I am. I really am.”
“Good. I’m sure having the final pieces provides some closure for you.”
I nodded. “It does. It really didn’t seem to bother me that much growing up. A kid just learns to accept what the parent tells them and if it’s pretty much nothing, you get involved in your own life and move on. But recently, over the past year, it’s been nagging at me to know more. Finding that photo was the first step, and according to Sebine, my search has probably ended the way my mother hoped it would.”
“I’m glad you’re in a good place. And I’m glad you let me be a part of your discovery.”
I smiled, and we became silent, each lost in our own thoughts.
I noticed that Ben took the exit off I-95 to Flagler Beach and A1A.
“It’s close to dinner time,” he said. “I thought we’d stop at Betty’s for some great seafood.”
“Wo
nderful idea.”
We both enjoyed a delicious fried clam dinner. The clams at Betty’s were flown in fresh from Ipswich, Massachusetts, and never failed to be exceptional.
I took the last sip of my wine. “That was excellent,” I said. “I’m glad you wanted to come here.”
When we got to Koi House, I said, “I’m not sure if you have to get home to Jonah, but would you like to come in for coffee?”
“Jonah is at a sleepover tonight at a friend’s house. So, yes. Sounds good.”
We walked in to find Lotte dancing in circles, delighted I was home.
“Come on, sweetie,” I said and saw the note on the kitchen counter from David. He had come over twice to let Lotte out in the garden. “It’s been a few hours since you went out.”
I had asked David to look in on Lotte while I was gone, so I thought it was only courteous to give him a quick call and let him know I was back.
“It was my pleasure,” he said, after I thanked him. “I hope your journey proved worthwhile.”
“It was,” I told him. “I’ll give you and Mavis Anne all the details tomorrow. Ben is here and we’re going to have coffee.”
“How nice. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
After the coffee was brewed and I got Lotte back inside, I filled two mugs and passed one to Ben. “Let’s take this into the family room,” I said.
He followed me to the sofa and sat beside me.
I let out a sigh.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and not for the first time I noticed his genuine concern.
“Yes. I’m fine. It’s been a draining few weeks, but in a good way. The best part of all of this is that I now have an aunt I never knew I had. And I’m very pleased that Sebine wants me to stay in touch. I hope you’ll go back to visit her with me in a few months.”
“I’d love to. I very much enjoyed meeting her. She’s an interesting woman.”
“She is. I’m looking forward to getting to know her better. She certainly is a strong woman. It couldn’t have been easy having a lesbian relationship in the fifties and sixties in this country. Yet she and Lillian were together for a lifetime. And my mother . . . I think both Lillian and Sebine were a positive influence on her and passed on their strength and confidence.”