Authors: Florence Osmund
Daughters (12 page)
Marie led her to the bench under the overhang of the coach house porch. “I know that’s probably shocking to you.”
“I guess! So is Claire your mother? Wait. No, that can’t be, ‘cause you told me your mom died when you were sixteen.” She glared at Marie with a crooked smile and cocked head. “This is crazy.”
“It’s complicated.”
Rachael’s face fell. “You’re not going to explain this to me, are you?”
“Like your dad said, it’s pretty grown-up stuff.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“I know you’re not. But some things are hard to explain to someone who hasn’t had that much life experience yet.”
“Try me. I’ve probably had more than you think.”
Marie bit her lip and studied the face of the wide-eyed young girl sitting next to her, fearful she was telling the truth. “Okay. You see, Jonathan had a relationship with my mother years ago…many, many years ago. And then I was born.”
“So let me get this straight. Jonathan and your mother were married?”
“No. They weren’t married.”
Rachael shook her head. “Was your mother a Negro?”
“No. She was white.”
“This is so crazy.”
“Let’s go in before our food gets cold. We can talk more about it over dinner.”
Walter was waiting for them when they got back to Marie’s apartment after breakfast the next morning. Karen was in the car. The three girls talked the entire way to St. Charles. They talked about Marie’s background, how Karen and Marie met, Marie’s estranged husband, and Karen’s current friend who happened to be a man (she refused to call him her boyfriend). Rachael followed suit and talked about herself.
“Mom and I lived on the south side of Chicago, always in some piss-poor neighborhood.”
“Rachael!”
“What?”
“Your language.”
“Sorry. Anyway, I didn’t like where we lived much, but I never really complained. We couldn’t afford anything better.”
“Was it just you and your mother?”
“Not usually.” Rachael rolled her eyes. “I remember when I was pretty small, maybe four or five, being curled up in the corner of my mother’s bedroom—a lot. I would cover my ears with my hands so I wouldn’t hear Uncle somebody-or-other beating up on her. There was always someone I was told to call Uncle in our house. Every one of ‘em drank, and they all had bad tempers.”
Marie cringed at Rachael’s story. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart. What did your mom do?”
“Oh, she would get through the beating and just go in the bathroom, clean herself up, and then act like nothing happened. Just like always.”
“Did your mom have a job?”
“She said she did, but I don’t know what it was. She said it was a waitress job, but I don’t…sometimes she would leave late at night sayin’ she was going to work. And she wasn’t always home when I got up. And if she came home and I wasn’t in school, she’d get mad. Well, sometimes. Other times she would say it was nice to come home to someone else in the house. She was pretty messed up. Still is, I guess.”
Marie wanted to show support for Rachael’s mother without condoning or minimizing her seemingly bad behavior. On the surface it appeared once Judy found a place to dump her child, she took off, which Marie couldn’t understand any parent doing. “I’m sure she would have done better if she were able.”
Rachael shrugged. “The worst part was never knowing where we were going to live or if there would be any food in the house.”
“You moved around?”
“All the time. We’d go from one dirty apartment to another, until the landlord kicked us out.”
“Do you have any good memories of your childhood?”
“Nope. Well, there was this one time my mom came into a pile of money. I mean a pile of it. And we moved into this nice apartment in a neighborhood where I could actually go outside and play. She bought me all new clothes. We had food in the fridge. And no grease-ball guy in the house.” A slow smile formed across Rachael’s face. “Mom told me things would be different from now on. And they were—for about a month. Best month we ever had.”
“I’m so glad your mom had the good sense to remove you from all of that,” Karen said.
“She didn’t fit in at Ben’s, you know. Ha! Maybe that’s why she left. To go back to her old shitty ways.”
“Rachael. Watch your language,” Marie warned.
“Sorry.”
Marie tried desperately to find the good in Rachael’s mother. “If that’s why she left, at least she didn’t drag you with her. Maybe she thought you deserved better.”
Rachael twisted up her mouth. “I doubt it.”
“And school, how was school in Chicago?”
“Not like St. Charles. The classrooms were dirty, and so were most of the kids. Some days the teacher wouldn’t even show up, and we had to sit there and twiddle our thumbs until they found someone to babysit us.”
“Not fun, I would think,” Marie acknowledged.
“Nope. Most kids flew the coop every chance they got.”
“Why did you leave Chicago?”
“Mom got fired.” Rachael clapped her hand across her mouth. “Oops. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.”
“That’s okay. We won’t tell,” Marie promised, thinking it probably didn’t matter much now.
“Anyway, then we came here, Mom and Dad got married, and that was that.”
“Rachael,” Marie asked, “did you know who your dad was before you came to St. Charles?”
Rachael lowered her head. “No. Why?”
“Just curious. So your mom never talked about him?”
“Nope.”
“Where’s your mother now, Rachael?” Karen asked.
Rachael shrugged. “Who knows, and who cares?” She stared out the window. “I know I don’t.”
Marie gave Rachael a motherly look. “Don’t be too hasty to write her off. You don’t know the real story of why she left.”
Rachael rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s bogus.”
Karen and Marie turned toward each other. “Bogus?” Karen asked.
“Full of shit,” Rachael responded.
“Rachael!” Marie blurted.
“Well, it’s true.”
“You need to stop with the swear words, young lady.”
Rachael pursed her lips and shrugged. “No sweat.”
Marie just shook her head. She completely understood Rachael’s anger toward her mother, but at some point she felt Rachael needed to accept things and move on. She didn’t know if that was too much to expect from a twelve-year-old. She wished she had a magic wand to wave over her to erase the bad times the girl had experienced in her short life.
Walter dropped Rachael off at the Feinsteins’ before bringing Marie and Karen to the Brookses’ house, where they were greeted by Jonathan and Claire. Claire had decorated the house to the hilt. The scent of pine filled the air inside.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Jonathan asked. Both women nodded. When he handed Karen her glass, he gave her a wink. “So how’s that place of yours in Geneva?”
A red flush crept up her neck. “I guess I should apologize for that.”
“No need to. Marie told me all about your escapade on trying to find me, and quite frankly, I was impressed. So you’re not married to any doctor either?”
“No, that was all part of the sham.”
“No harm done. So tell me about your trip. What all did you girls talk about?”
Marie filled him in, leaving out what Rachael shared with them in confidence.
Claire joined them and filled them in on the agenda for the next three days. Marie was glad to hear all four of the Feinsteins would be joining them on Christmas Eve.
Claire, Marie, and Karen spent Christmas Eve morning preparing an elaborate brunch as various family members arrived. By eleven o’clock, all ten of them sat down to eat.
More interested in the lively conversation than the food, Marie didn’t eat much. It wasn’t the content of the conversations she found so enthralling, but rather the endless stream of voices interacting with each other and captivating each other’s attention. Unlike Thanksgiving, when there had been so much tension, the atmosphere at this meal was light and lively.
After the meal, Evan and Arthur volunteered to clean up and wash dishes to “give the womenfolk a break,” as Evan put it. None of the womenfolk objected.
Finished with the dishes, Arthur and Evan joined the group, and everyone talked until it was time to pile into two cars and go to the food pantry in Kansas City where the Brooks family had volunteered their time for the past five Christmas Eves. Three hours later, they headed back home, tired, a little sad, but feeling fulfilled.
“When do you expect the Feinsteins?” Marie asked.
“Any time actually,” Claire responded. “I just called Gloria to let them know we’re home.”
Right on cue, the doorbell rang, and a minute later Rachael burst into the kitchen where the women were gathered.
“Hi, all! Hi, Marie.” She gave Marie a big smile.
“Come here, you,” Claire said to Rachael. “You look so pretty today.” She patted her on the head. “And different somehow. How was your trip to Kansas?”
“Pretty nifty. Marie has the coolest apartment.”
“Nifty?”
“It’s a whole other language,” Marie explained.
Claire put her hands on her hips. “Well, Rachael. I’m glad you had such a kick. Now tell me what else is buzzin’, cousin.”
“Mrs. Brooks!”
“Well, tell me what’s new.”
“My birthday is today.”
“No kidding. That’s just crazy!”
The roar of laughter brought Ben into the kitchen. “Rachael, are you behaving yourself?”
“Yes, Daddio.”
Ben squinted and frowned. “Rachael…”
“Just kidding,” she said back in a sing-songy voice.
“Why don’t you come into the living room with Brenda and Denise?”
Marie was certain Rachael would have rather spent her time with the grownups, but she followed her father’s orders anyway. “Okay,” she groaned.
“Ben,” Claire called to him before he left the kitchen. She lowered her voice to no more than a whisper. “She’s so bubbly. I’ve never seen her like this.”
Ben glanced at Marie, then back at Claire. “She hasn’t stopped talking about her trip to Atchison since she got back. I hate to say it, but I think I’m going to have to loosen the reins on her a little. It seems to have done a lot of good, thanks to Marie.” He gave Marie a heartfelt smile.
“Hey, it was my pleasure. She can be a handful, but she has such a good heart. I thoroughly enjoyed being with her.” She gave Ben a wink. “I think I had just as much fun as she did. I wanted to…”
“So when can I go back there, Dad?” Rachael’s voice swept into the room from somewhere around the corner.
Ben glanced at everyone and heaved a big sigh. “She’s a handful, alright.”
