Authors: Sandra Kitt
“Is there anything I can do?”
Lillian sighed. “Darling, you know you’re like a daughter to me, but … it’s family stuff.”
More secrets, Dallas thought uneasily. Lillian, of course, had no idea how well she knew Alex or for how long. She might have been able to help. She certainly knew Alex Marco well enough to know that if she told him to, he would phone home.
Lillian never did confide her concerns, but leaving her a short time later Dallas realized she had questions of her own as she walked the three blocks to her parents’ house. How to reconcile with Eleanor without feeling like she’d capitulated completely.
It helped that the front of the property was awash with color. Eleanor had a neatly manicured plot of annuals and perennials. Dallas took a deep breath before she let herself into the house. Only her father was home.
She smiled at him as she entered. She gave him a peck on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you,” Lyle Oliver murmured with quiet pleasure.
Dallas was gratified by his mood. She tried not to stare too closely, but after not seeing her father for two weeks she could easily see that he still seemed gaunt. His movements were still slow and careful. He seemed much more peaceful, however. They sat at the kitchen table and wryly she declined the offer of iced tea. She already felt somewhat waterlogged.
“You look good.” Dallas smiled at her father.
“You lie,” he scoffed, and grinned when she laughed.
“Well … maybe you should put some of that weight back on. Otherwise you’ll slip right through my arms if I try to hug you.”
“Oh, then … I’ll definitely fatten up. Unfortunately, the doctors and Eleanor watch me like a hawk. They give me only enough to eat to keep me alive! I would kill for some fried chicken or meat loaf with brown gravy.”
Dallas laughed again. “Well, I’d rather have you eat healthy.”
Lyle Oliver looked at his daughter, blinking at her with incredible warmth in his eyes. Dallas could see, behind the thoughtful gaze and quiet consideration, an acknowledgment of what
she
would have killed for as a child. Perhaps his brush with a life-threatening illness had made him reflective. Whatever the reason, Dallas was grateful for the change. It wasn’t often that anyone got a second chance. She and her father seemed to be discovering each other.
“So what are the doctors telling you?”
He sighed and shifted comfortably on his chair. “Oh, basically to accept that I need to watch my health. I’m not an old man yet, but I can’t do what I used to do. And if I want to continue to do what I
can
do, then I have to give up the fried chicken and meat loaf with brown gravy.”
Dallas chuckled. “I’ll take the trade-off.”
“I appreciate that,” he murmured softly. “Have you heard from Dean?”
“You mean you haven’t?”
Lyle Oliver scratched his ear. “Well … my suspicion is that he’s laying low until this whole thing with that young woman blows over. He and I had a long talk about it.”
Dallas tried not to show her surprise. “Did you?”
“I live with Eleanor. I know how she gets,” her father commented boldly. “I thought he could use a little support. Ellie can’t have her way all the time, and this time I think she’s gone too far.”
Dallas wondered what both of them would do if they knew about Alex. But … what was there to know yet.
“You know, we’ve seen Dean with all kinds of women. All pretty, of course, but often not much else to speak of.”
“Maybe that’s why he hasn’t married, yet.”
He nodded. “He has some growing up to do. Eleanor is a proud woman. She came a long way at a time when we had to fight every stop of the way. So she has very definite views on ethnicity.”
Dallas looked at him. “Is that why you married her?”
Her father returned the look with his own knowing smile. “You mean, she reminded me I was a black man?”
Dallas blushed. Had she sounded so impertinent?
“Ellie made me feel strong again, after your mother took you back to Texas and we divorced. She helped me heal a lot of wounds. But she also made me feel needed. She has a very clear sense of herself.”
“What about love?”
He raised his brows. “Of course we love each other.”
Dallas began to feel uncomfortable. “Do you think Eleanor will back off?”
“Probably, if Dean feels strongly about … what’s her name? Alikah? I think Ellie should appreciate that Alikah is so sure of herself. She’s just right out there with this personal style that makes a statement. And it’s true to her natural heritage. Maybe Ellie is a little threatened by that. She’s made concessions to get where she is. I certainly have. You and Dean and his girlfriend are benefiting from all this multiculturalism, and ethnic pride and political correctness in ways you already take for granted. It wasn’t always so.”
Dallas suddenly had a clear insight into family history from her father’s point of view. In many ways he had shown enormous bravery and hope, in defying tradition and marrying her mother. He had been a forerunner, a pioneer in what the world had become. She was a product of his daring. She was the future.
There was such a mood of openness and acceptance that Dallas ventured onto another sensitive topic.
“I read through all of the letters in that box.” He nodded, looking carefully for her reaction. “I wish I’d seen some of those years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, putting it all away. You have to understand how all of that past was painful to me. It wasn’t easy. And it took me a long time to get over.”
“I know, Daddy.” She hesitated, gauging his mood. “But … I want to try to find my mother’s family. Some of my cousins. There’s so much I want to know about her. Do you mind?”
“No. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“If I find them, do you want to know?”
Lyle Oliver cleared his throat and shifted in the chair again. “Let me think about it a bit.”
They heard the red Camry pull into the driveway, and Dallas got up to help her stepmother with any packages she might have. There was still a great deal of reserve between the two of them and Dallas hoped that her father was not aware of the strain.
Eleanor’s conversation reminded Dallas of Lillian’s. Nervous behind a facade of calm and routine. The marketing was put away, and family news caught up with. Dallas didn’t know if it was worth touching on the sensitive and still raw issue of the things said between herself and her stepmother when her father had fallen sick. Perhaps it was best to leave well enough alone.
“Eleanor, the front yard looks wonderful. You could see the flowers out front all the way from the corner.”
“Oh, thank you. I put in some new things this year. I really need to get out there and weed,” Eleanor said with a kind of breathy brightness, bustling around the kitchen putting boxes and cans away. “Would you like something from the yard? I think I have an empty clay pot somewhere in the garage. Let me put a cutting in it for you to take home with you.”
Dallas didn’t respond right away. She and her father exchanged surprised looks. “That’s great. I’d like that,” she said.
It was certainly a start.
Megan was supposed to be in bed.
When Valerie heard her daughter in the living room, she came out of the kitchen to see what she was up to. Her daughter had plopped down on the sofa and was punching in numbers on the telephone.
“Megan, who are you calling this late?”
“Aunt Dallas …” She had completed the numbers and put the unit to her ear.
“Put that phone down and go to bed. Right now!”
Megan looked at her, her wide eyes showing her surprise at the tone of her mother’s voice. “But I’m calling Dallas. I want to go and see her this weekend.”
“Megan …” Valerie said in a warning tone. She started across the room at her daughter. “Did you hear what I said?”
Megan stared at her mother in disbelief as Valerie took the unit out of her hands.
“Why don’t you listen to me!”
“Mom …” Megan whined. “What’s the matter with you? I’m supposed to visit Aunt Dallas and I always call first.”
“You’re not calling her because you’re not going into the city.” Valerie detached the hand unit and put the stand on the coffee table. Then she felt foolish. What was she going to do with it? Hide it? Why was she getting angry with Megan? She saw the confusion on her daughter’s face and felt terrible.
Megan bounded up from the sofa and faced off with her mother. “Why? Why can’t I go? You made me go to Grandma Rosemary’s that time and … and I didn’t even want to. I haven’t seen Aunt Dallas … for weeks.”
Valerie watched as the bewilderment and frustration made her daughter whine. She tried to get hold of herself. She’d screamed at Megan like a wild woman. Her child had done nothing wrong.
“I didn’t mean to yell at you, sweetie,” Valerie attempted. “But you didn’t ask to use the phone, and you’re supposed to be in bed by now.”
“That’s not it,” Megan said. “You won’t let me ’cause you’re mad at her.”
“What are you talking about?” Valerie asked, although she flashed back instantly to that awful confrontation in Dallas’s kitchen the month before.
“I heard the way you and she were talking that time at her place. I don’t know why, but you
were
talking loud. And now you won’t let me see her. That’s not fair! I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Valerie could see that she had mishandled the situation. Maybe she shouldn’t have demanded.
“Honey, of course you didn’t do anything wrong.
There are reasons why you can’t see Dallas. She’s been
very
busy and …”
“You always say that. It’s not true. She’s
never
too busy to see me. She told me I can call or come over anytime I want to.” Megan’s voice began to rise to youthful hysteria.
“Calm down.” Valerie put her hand out to her. “Maybe you can go and see her after school is out.”
Megan looked even more astonished. “But … but … what about my graduation? She said she’d come.”
“Maybe. We’ll have to …”
“Nooooo!” Megan began to sob. “I want to talk to her. I want to see her.”
Valerie tried the voice of authority. But she knew she’d already lost it. “Stop it! You’re behaving like a child and I won’t …”
“You’re so unfair!” Megan wailed, out of control.
“That’s it! Enough. Please go to bed like I told you. Maybe you can see Dallas sometime later, but
not
this weekend.”
Megan began crying in earnest, shaking her head at her mother, her face distorted. She turned and ran back down the hall. “I wish Aunt Dallas was my mother!” she screamed. Her bedroom door slammed.
The announcement rooted Valerie to the spot. Megan might just as well have said that she hated her. She realized she was clutching the telephone receiver against her chest. She stared at it before tossing it on the sofa in disgust. Then she sat down, her hands covering her mouth, and wondered if there was a way out of this mess she’d created.
D
ALLAS LAY AWAKE IN
the dark.
It was the third night that week that she’d been unable to get through the whole night without her sleep being interrupted by the concerns and vagaries of the day. So much had come about in just two weeks. The result of years, even decades, of events, people, places, and things that now seemed to be turning the course of everyone’s lives upside down.
Dallas still didn’t know what to make of Eleanor’s conciliatory attitude toward her. It was no warmer than Eleanor had ever been toward her, but Dallas couldn’t deny that Eleanor really seemed more aware of her feelings. Even her father, frightened by the prospects of maybe dying suddenly without having resolved his past, had been more open and affectionate, more willing to talk about her mother and their civil rights era romance that had cost them—and her—so much. Dallas had been astounded at the extent of her father’s experiences.
His history quietly was becoming the basis for a book she intended to write.
Dallas shifted positions onto her back and stretched out her legs. She closed her eyes and concentrated on falling asleep. After a few seconds they shot open again and she stared at the ceiling. Her mind wouldn’t stay quiet. Dallas had been thinking for the past week that maybe she should just go ahead and call Valerie and make peace. But no. There was a principle to be maintained. She had not done anything wrong to hurt Valerie, and she resented any implication by Valerie that she had. Yet, Dallas wondered if her standoff with the person who had been her best friend forever was going to seriously affect the future relationship with her godchild. Megan hadn’t called to make arrangements for her usual visit. And Dallas wondered if that was Megan’s decision … or her mother’s.
She shifted positions again.
Then there was Dean. She’d had lunch with him and Alikah just yesterday. Dallas liked her. While it was obvious that Alikah and her brother had a real relationship in progress and not one that was based purely on sex, Dallas thought that Eleanor had overreacted to her son’s recent involvement. Dallas was of the opinion that there could be a few more women before Dean settled down with one.
She gave up.
Throwing off the sheet covering her, Dallas got out of bed. She glanced at the nightstand clock: 2:13 …
A.M.
In frustration she stood up and stretched, running her fingers through her curly hair. She paced in front of the bed before deciding to get a drink of water. Maybe the brief activity would cut into her restlessness.
She walked barefoot in the dark toward the kitchen. The thin cotton sleep-slip moved softly against her skin. In the kitchen Dallas poured herself a half a glass of milk. She stood there slowly drinking, still reflective. When the buzzer sounded it made her jump so badly she dropped the glass.
Dallas gasped as it shattered on the vinyl tile floor and she felt the spray of cold milk and glass shards on her feet. Her heart thundered. She didn’t know what to do first. Answer the intercom or clean up the mess. Finally she pressed the talk button on her wall system.
“Who is it?” Dallas asked quietly. Pointlessly.
“Dallas … it’s me.”