Daughters (5 page)

Jonathan parked the car in a lot across from a park. “I want to show you something before we go to the restaurant.” He led her across the street toward a long park bench. She sat down and allowed the breathy wind to brush across her face for a couple of minutes while she took in the scenery. “Here is where I proposed to Claire. Different bench, but same spot.”

A woman walked by with a young girl who appeared to be four or five years old. The girl looked like she was about to approach Marie and Jonathan when the woman grabbed her hand and whisked her away.

Jonathan waited until they were out of earshot. “That’s pretty common behavior. They see a colored man, and right away they think I’m some kind of threat. The funny thing is that I may very well have sold that woman’s husband a horse at one time or another.” He shook his head.

“I’ve been in her shoes.”

Jonathan looked at her. “And?”

“I can relate to her.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

“I can’t explain it. Fear, maybe? I don’t know. Of course, now I don’t feel that way, but look what it took for me to get to this point!”

Jonathan laughed. “It’s funny, but it’s not so funny.”

They ate lunch and headed back to the car. On the way home, Jonathan asked Marie what she thought about their new president.

“Karen and I followed Truman and Dewey pretty closely during their campaigns. Like everyone else, we were sure Dewey was going to win. But I’m glad he didn’t. I think Truman will do more for the people, especially the poor.”

“We’ll see how he does on his promises. You mentioned Karen. By any chance would she be the person who came to my door looking for a horse?” His smile told Marie he wasn’t upset at the shenanigan she and Karen had pulled in their effort to find him.

“Yes, that would be her. She’s my best friend.”

When they got home, Claire handed Jonathan a phone message. He took it, went into his office, and closed the door. When he came out, he had a peculiar look on his face.

“I’ve been invited to participate in a roundtable political discussion in Chicago next week with twenty or so other Illinois businessmen.”

“What’s the topic of discussion, dear?”

“Truman’s first year in office.”

“Are you prepared to do that?” Claire asked.

“Well, I can be. I’ll have to do a little studying.”

“What day is it?”

“The Monday following Thanksgiving. That gives me time.”

“You should feel honored to be asked, dear,” Claire said.

“I do. There will be a lot of important people there.” He glanced at Marie. “But it’s going to cut into our visit. I’ll have to leave on Sunday, but I should be back late Monday.”

“Oh, please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Claire looked at Marie and shot her a weak smile. “That will give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

Oh dear. Is that a good thing?

“C’mon, girls. Let’s go for a ride before dinner.”

The next day Jonathan had business in Geneva and left before Marie awoke. After having a relatively reticent breakfast with Claire, she went out to the barn and had Zach saddle up a horse for her.

“Going out by yourself today, are you Miss Marie?”

“Yes. I think I know my way around well enough now. What do you think?”

“Oh, you’ll be fine. Everything is fenced. You can’t get too lost. But if you get turned around, just look for the tallest tree.” He pointed toward behind the main barn. “That’s home.”

Marie thanked him and rode off, her mind quickly going to how she could make things better with Claire. Jonathan kept telling her to give it time, but she didn’t like the wait.

Glad she had put on a few layers of clothing, Marie flinched at the cool breeze grazing her face, cold enough for her to see the horse’s breath shoot out of his nostrils in perfect rhythm with his stride. She headed east and watched the fading ribbons of the morning’s sunrise dissipate above the horizon. She enjoyed the peacefulness of the terrain, the strength of the horse between her legs, and the utter contentment of being where she was—home. Well, home of sorts.

She followed a trail that led to the far corner of Jonathan’s property, up a slight rise overlooking miles of farmland. She stopped to study the expansive landscape. The configuration of each farm within her view was distinct, but they shared the same basic components: a main barn, several small outbuildings, open fields, and the main house. Some of the houses were situated near the road and others more toward the center of the fields.

Except for the occasional sound of a bird chirping, the air was quiet and calming. Riding had a way of suspending time and place for Marie, allowing her to escape reality. Lost in thought in her own private space, she jumped when she heard a voice behind her.

“Morning.” She turned around to see Melvin sitting high on a jet black mare.

“Hi. You startled me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She studied his face but didn’t know how to read his expression.

Marie turned back around to face the vast open land. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“That it is.” He guided his horse next to Marie’s. “This is my favorite spot on Dad’s property. That’s why the path is so worn. I come up here every chance I get.”

Marie turned to meet his gaze. His skin appeared even lighter when illuminated by the sun. “So Melvin, did you hear about your dad’s invitation to the political roundtable discussion in Chicago next week?”

He nodded. “You can call me Tré. Everyone else does.”

“Okay, Tré.”

“Yes, I heard. Dad’s pretty smart, you know. He’s well read, and he can hold his own with the best of them, so...”

“I believe that.”

He fidgeted in the saddle. “Marie, I didn’t just happen to ride up here this morning. Zach told me you headed up this way.”

She waited for him to say more, expecting the worst, but hoping for something better.

“I have to apologize for the way I acted on Sunday.”

Marie opened her mouth to say something, but Tré held up his hand signaling he wasn’t finished. “I need for you to understand something.” His eyes focused past her face for a few seconds, into the vast open land. “I was married once before, to a woman named Anna, a white woman. Everyone in my family was against it, but I was young and pretty headstrong back then, I guess I still am, and I was going to do what I wanted to do no matter what anyone else thought or said.”

“How long were you married?”

“Less than six months.” He dug his hands into his jacket pockets. “One day I woke up and she was gone. Didn’t even take all her clothes.” He shrugged. “Well, I was crushed and humiliated. More humiliated than anything else. The fact that she left me for a white guy made it that much worse.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah…well, the reason I bring this up is because my experience with a white girl was disastrous on so many levels. I found out later she was cheating on me during most of our short marriage. That was one thing. But just as bad were my dealings with white people in general. The only time I’m ever accepted by whites is when they think I am white.” He let out a big sigh. “Then you came along, and I said, ‘Oh, great. Now we have another one in the family.’”

Marie laughed. “Another what?”

“Another white. Dad told us you grew up white. Anyway, it brought back all sorts of…unpleasant memories, shall we say.” He turned to face her. “Look, I know I shouldn’t judge you by my bad experiences.”

“So what made you have a change of heart?”

He chuckled. “Yolanda gave me hell when we got home on Sunday. She waited ‘til the kids went to bed and let me have it but good,” he said, his smile laced with embarrassment. “I slept on the couch that night and did a lot of thinking. In the end, I just felt like a real horse’s ass and knew I had to apologize. And I have to tell Mom I’m sorry, and when Dad gets home later, I’ll tell him too.” He reached out for a handshake.

Not completely sure if his apology was coming from his own heart or his wife’s, Marie paused before shaking his hand. “Apology accepted.”

She turned her horse around. Tré followed suit. When they emerged from the woods, Marie scrutinized the area in all four directions before spotting it.

“The tallest tree?” he asked.

Her lips folded into a half smile. “How’d you know?”

“Because we all grew up with the same advice: ‘If you get turned around, look for the tallest tree,’ Zach would say. ‘That’s home.’”

The next day was the day before Thanksgiving, and Marie helped Claire prepare the feast. They were expecting eleven for the main midday meal, including Zach and his son. Marie and Claire talked cordially throughout the day while they prepared the food.

“Tell me about your business, Marie,” Claire said as she chopped vegetables. Marie had just opened her own interior design business earlier that year. “You must think this place is a disaster given all your education and decorating experience.” Her even tone didn’t reveal any clue as to whether she was being sarcastic, resentful, or complimentary.

Suddenly it occurred to Marie that perhaps Jonathan’s paying for her education had taken away from what he was able to give his other children. She prayed that wasn’t the case. “I think you’ve done a fine job with the decorating, Claire. Your house is so cozy, so inviting.” Marie proceeded to tell her about her line of work.

“And so you left Marshall Field’s when you fled from your husband?”

“Mm-hmm. I had to, really. Do you want me to slice all the yams?”

“Yes. Would you hand me that bowl, please? So how did you get started in Atchison?”

Marie told her story, including how she had worked at the local phone company in Atchison before starting up her own business, and how she had developed the strong friendship with Karen.

“Maybe someday you can bring her here for a visit. We’d love to meet her.”

Marie wasn’t sure that Claire’s interest in meeting Karen was genuine or something else. She gave her a weak smile and said, “Thank you. I’d like that. But you know, you already have met her.”

Claire gave her a puzzled look.

Months earlier, when Marie had begun to suspect her father lived in St. Charles, she and Karen had driven there to check him out. Karen pretended to be interested in buying a horse from him. She was also the one who told Marie that Jonathan Brooks was a Negro. Marie had to see him for herself, so Karen drove to his ranch for the second time, this time with Marie in the passenger seat. When Jonathan had emerged from his home, she had instinctively known he was her father.

Marie relayed the story to Claire, who shook her head. “Getting back to your business, I’m curious as to how you ended up where you are. Let’s face it, most women are like me—devoted to housekeeping, raising families, and being a dutiful wife. And most women don’t leave their husbands, no matter how difficult the situation is.”

Marie wasn’t sure if Claire was criticizing her for leaving Richard or thinking about her own set of circumstances. “When I was in college, I studied a woman interior designer named Frances Elkins. You probably never heard of her, but you may have heard of her brother, David Adler, the famous architect.” Claire nodded. “Well, she’s my hero, my inspiration.”

“Why is that?”

“She started out being that typical housewife that you described, married to a man from a very prominent family who made a lot of money and kept her in fine clothes and jewelry. While she wasn’t in love with him, she did have three children with him. But that’s not what she wanted in life, at least that’s not all she wanted in life. She wanted a fulfilling career like her husband, but she knew he would never let her do that, so she left him, divorced him actually, and without any college or training pursued what she loved to do, interior decorating.”

“She left her children?”

“No, apparently she took her children with her.”

“What time period was that, Marie? Is she still alive?”

“She peaked in her career during the twenties and thirties. Made quite a name for herself. And she did other things she thought could be done, should be done, when others called her crazy. Like establishing her own workshop for the craftsmen who worked on her projects. No woman back then, or even now, would do that. As far as I know she’s still alive and living in California.”