Finding Dad: From "Love Child" to Daughter (11 page)

  
12
My Three Brothers

My father and I were having a great time getting to know each other, and I was feeling comfortable in the house. But until I met my brothers, the picture still felt incomplete. They were the final exam, and I knew their grades mattered. We were living in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship, where no one else is there to weigh in with their opinions. Though Marjorie and her son, Mark, had accepted me, my brothers and I shared the same blood, and I knew they meant a lot to my father. They had weathered four marriages, and I could only imagine how they felt about having a sister they’d never known about. I had always wanted a brother or sister, but these were grown men, old enough to be my father, and I was nervous about meeting them. What if they didn’t like me? What if they thought I only wanted his money? What had my father told them about me?

My summer was winding down, and my father decided to have each brother come out to Newport to meet me before I left for college. So far, they’d only seen me on TV and read about me in the papers. It was time to make it real.

“We’re working on getting the boys out here to meet you,” my father said, making it more of an announcement—something he tended to do during awkward moments. “Tracy, my oldest, will come first, so make sure you’re available this weekend,”

Finally! It’s about time, Dad…
“That’s great! I’m excited to meet them.”

When Tracy walked through the front door at Seaward, I couldn’t believe how much he looked like my father. He had the same mannerisms and deep voice, but a lighter, goofier demeanor. While my father wore custom-made suits, Tracy, at forty-one, favored jeans, a bright colored shirt, and running shoes. He was in the business of putting on all the big track meets in New York City. His warm smile and sense of humor settled my nerves and put me immediately at ease.

“Hi…sis,” he said, giving me a hug.

Phew, he’s nice
.

I hugged him back, smiling, “It’s so nice to meet you, Tracy.”

“You made this beautiful girl?” he asked, giving my father a salty grin. I could tell Tracy loved putting my father on the spot and making him squirm.

“Ha ha, very funny, Tracy, now get changed. I hope you’re not wearing that garish shirt to dinner…and stand up straight!”

They were giving each other verbal noogies, but the love between them was apparent. How could I be nervous around all this?

My father arranged for us to have dinner at one of his favorite restaurants, The Clarke Cooke House, down on the wharf. We dined upstairs in the beautiful Skybar, where waiters wear white jackets and the social elite come for dancing. The maître d’ stands at the top of the stairs to make sure no one enters who is not part of the “proper crowd.” My father wasn’t much for fancy food, but he liked to go where everyone knew his name, and this was just that sort of place.

At dinner, Tracy told the story of how he found out about me. “I was in a staff meeting, and my assistant told me Dad was on the phone. I told her to tell him I’d call him back. No, no, she says, it’s urgent, so I took the call. Dad, I tell him, I’m in a meeting, what’s so important that I can’t call you back? He tells me that he’s getting ready to have a press conference in fifteen minutes, and that it looks like I have a sister. After a brief pause, I say something sarcastic like I guess the good news is it’s not another brother. After he gives me the Cliff’s Notes version of what happened, he asks if I’m upset. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am, I say. Really? he asks, sounding like his heart is sinking, and I say, well, yeah, Dad, I’m here in New York City and there’s no way I can get to Providence in fifteen minutes! I’m going to miss one helluva press conference!”

We all laughed over our lobsters, and I knew I was going to like this man who, at twenty-three years my senior and old enough to be my father, was clearly opening his heart to become my brother.

He joked that considering Dad had been married four times and always loved women, he wasn’t that surprised about me. “We always knew there could be more out there, so if you want to join this crazy family, all I have to say is welcome.”

“Well, thank you,” I said, laughing, “I’m happy to be here.”

He had learned to love my father in spite of his flaws, just like I was trying to do.

Tracy shared Dad’s drive for success and was the youngest Olympic track coach in history, having spent his career coaching elite athletes all over the world. At that time, he was in charge of the Metropolitan Athletics Congress in New York City, the regional arm of the national and international sports governing bodies for track and field. Today, millions of people run the Rock n’ Roll Marathons he co-founded.

As I learned about what Tracy did, I couldn’t help but share a knee slapper of my own. “You know my mother always told me I had a brother who was an Olympic swim coach, and that’s why I joined the swim team. Guess we had the wrong sport!”

“Really? That’s pretty funny. Well, can you run?”

I shook my head. “Nope, not at all, I hated track in gym.”

I guess the star athlete gene skipped me. For our first few Christmases together, Tracy would send me running shoes, saying, “If you can run a mile, I can train you to run a marathon.” I always told him that, unfortunately, I lack the most basic need for a marathon—desire. If I go to a race, he has me hold the finish line tape, since I’m better at smiling than running. Tracy and I bonded instantly that night, and I knew we were going to be able to build a real relationship because we both wanted to. Today, he is the best big brother I could hope for, and I always know I can count on him for advice or help if I need it.

After we came home from dinner, my father stifled a yawn. “Okay, you two, I’m beat and am going to bed. You kids have fun, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Our “good nights” trailed him up the stairs, knowing it was safe to have a more private conversation.

As an only child, I had missed out on late night conversations with a sibling, and I was looking forward to learning more about Tracy and my father. I knew Tracy could really fill in the blanks. I figured he had a lot of questions for me as well.

I grabbed some Oreos, and we settled in on the couch for our heart to heart. Our time was short, and we wanted to cover as much ground as we could, since there were eighteen years to catch up on.

“Listen, I’m happy to have you,” Tracy said while stuffing an Oreo into his mouth. “I always wanted a sister, and this will be fun. I only wish Dad would have handled it better. I mean, we were all in Jamaica together for vacation after the DNA tests, and he didn’t say a word. But that’s Dad—he’s not always the best with communicating.”

“I know, it took me a while to get him to listen to me,” I said honestly, “But I’m just so happy we’re getting the chance to know each other now. I could have used a big brother growing up.”

“I guess I heard the rumors about you, but I never did anything, and now I wish I had. We could have watched you grow up.”

His acceptance was everything I’d wished for. Blood makes you related, but you can only become a family if the desire is there. Gratefully, it was.

Tracy rifled through his wallet and pulled out a picture of his baby girl, Felicity, my niece, and his wife, Isabel. I couldn’t believe how much Felicity looked like my baby pictures. She had the same blonde hair with a curl at the ends and blue eyes. “Oh my gosh, Tracy, if you put my baby picture next to hers you’d think we were the same person.”
Wow, I guess the blonde hair and light eyes comes from this side. I can’t believe I have a twin.

He looked at the photo with a gentle smile. "She’s a beauty, I can’t wait for you to meet her and Isabel."

“I look forward to that. I love babies.”

As I look back through the years, watching Fifi grow up has been one of my greatest gifts. From the day when I bounced her on my knee at our first Thanksgiving together, we created a special bond. Not only does she look a lot like me—all grown up, working in the fashion industry after graduating magna cum laude from the University of Southern California—but she reminds me so much of myself, a determined only child who is ready to set the world on fire. She has that Sundlun dominance, but she also has her soft side when she cuddles my kids at the beach, which makes my heart melt. I’m so happy she’s one family member I’ve gotten to know for almost her entire life.

That night, Tracy and I talked ourselves into the wee hours, until we finally forced ourselves to go to sleep so we could save ourselves for the next day. There was still so much to talk about, so I was grateful we would have a day of relaxing at the beach.

While eating breakfast the next morning, I watched my father came into the kitchen fully dressed in suit and tie, and raring to go. “Good morning,” he said while reaching for a doughnut, “did you have a nice time last night?”

“We did. It was a late night, and I think Tracy is still asleep.”

“You know, I’ve learned nothing good comes from staying up past midnight,” he answered with a grin. Feeling groggy myself, I figured he was right on the money.

This Sunday wouldn’t be a day of rest for my father. Sundays usually meant parades, potlucks, and other political appearances. Normally, he would have expected me to go with him and “learn something,” but I got a reprieve with Tracy in town.

“Listen, why don’t you take the day and spend some time with Tracy. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“That’s a great idea, thanks. Don’t work too hard,” I said, waving to him and the trooper as they left for what I assumed would be a long day.

I was excited for a beach day. If my father had been with us, it would have meant spending the day at Bailey’s Beach club, which was certainly not a punishment. But since we were on our own, Tracy and I decided to go to the public beach in Narragansett, where the waves were bigger and we could meet cousin Fenton, who refused to step foot in the private beach club.

It was the perfect day for relaxing and baking in the sun, and I was excited to get to have some great bonding time with the new family. We walked the sandy shores, drank the famous frozen Del’s lemonade that you’ll only find in Rhode Island, and laughed so much my face hurt.

Fenton was thrilled to share his story about the press conference to Tracy. “You should have been there. It was amazing—she’s a star, and so much like your father.”

“I can see that. She’s just lucky she’s a girl, since Dad was always better with women.” He shot out a good-natured laugh. Had my father been harder on his sons than he was being with me?

Fenton stood up and grabbed my arm. “C’mon, let’s take a walk. Some kids I know are dying to meet you, and I promised I’d introduce them to ‘Kara from TV.’ ”

While I was shaking hands and talking to some of the kids, I heard something that sounded like my name over the loudspeaker. I turned. “Hang on…Fenton, did you hear that?”

“What?”

Then I heard it again: “Kara Hewes, please come to the front desk, Kara Hewes, please report to the front desk.”

Fenton smacked his forehead. “Oh my gosh, your father must be looking for you. He’s the only one who could be paging you at a public beach.”

Long before everyone had a smartphone my father knew how to find someone anywhere. I had to run across the hot sand to the check-in desk, “Hi, I’m Kara Hewes,” I said in between catching my breath.

The lady handed me the phone. “Governor Sundlun is on the line for you.”

Uh oh…
“Hello?”

“Kara, this is your father. I’ve been home for almost an hour now. I’ve called everywhere looking for you!” I could hear the anger in his voice. Oops.

“Uh, we came to Narragansett beach to see Fenton. I thought you wouldn’t be home until much later.”

“No, I’m home now, and I was going to take you both out for a late lunch, but I guess I’ll have to eat alone.” Hmm, was he pouting?

“No, no, don’t do that. Let me grab Tracy, and we’ll be home right away.”

His reply was short and curt. “Goodbye.”

Now, most teenagers would have found their father paging them at a beach more than a little intrusive, but it felt good that he was worried about me. Sure, he was acting like a baby, but it proved to me he really wanted to hang out with Tracy and me. As promised, we raced home. My father was used to beckoning people, and this was no exception. Under normal circumstances, I would have been ticked off, but my life was anything but normal, and I liked being summoned because it made me feel important to him.

Back at home, we found my father sitting in the kitchen in his bathrobe, eating a donut. Yep, he was definitely pouting. His always-perfectly-coiffed hair was disheveled, and I couldn’t help but smile because I’d never seen him like this.

“I’ve been home all alone, waiting for you two and had no idea where you were! I wanted to take you to Bailey’s for lunch— not even a note!”

“Dad, you said you wouldn’t be around, so we did our own thing,” Tracy countered, with much more confidence than I had.

“Dumb, dumb! You are both dumb, dumb!” he said, sounding more like a hurt four-year-old than a tough governor.

My father was having a good old-fashioned meltdown because he missed us, and I’m sure it surprised him as much as it did us. His was such a simple, organic reaction, that my heart melted. He’d wanted to be with us and, rather than simply saying that, he hid his feelings by rebuking us. Thing is, he didn’t fool anyone.

So what do you do when you have someone trying to act like he’s rough and tough, but showing he’s really a softie? You test the limits and inject some humor. “Oh, poor baby,” I cooed, walking over to where he was sitting. “We are so sorry!” I pulled out a brush from my beach bag. “Here, let me fix your hair…it’s a mess.”

My father shot me stern look, but didn’t stop me from brushing his thick lion-like white hair.

“What on earth are you doing?” he said, trying to sound gruff.

“You’ll see…”

I pulled his hair into a bunch and used the elastic on my wrist to tie it into a ponytail on top of his head à la Pebbles from
The Flintstones
.

Tracy and Mrs. Schuster doubled over laughing, while my father sat crunching his brows together and refusing to unwrap his arms from across his chest. I pulled out my camera and started to take ridiculous pictures of him with his bathrobe and pony tail on top of his head.