Daughters Read online

  “Quit patronizing me, and stop stalking me. I’ve had enough!”

  “You’re still my wife, don’t forget. But that’s neither here nor there, is it?”

  “Please get out, and don’t come back here. Stay in Chicago where you belong.”

  Richard shifted his weight. “In case you don’t already know this—and I’m sure you do, ‘cause you’re a very smart girl—I can pretty much go anywhere I please. The last time I looked, this was still a free country. At least it is for me.” She cringed at the obvious implication. “Right, Karen?” He looked toward the back of the store.

  Karen came out from the back room and stopped abruptly when she saw Richard.

  “May I help you?”

  “This is Richard, Karen. He was just leaving.”

  Karen had a look of horror on her face. She appeared unable to move.

  “Karen, can you give us a few minutes alone?”

  Karen looked at Marie, who nodded. Are you sure? Karen mouthed. Marie nodded again, and Karen disappeared into the back room.

  Richard walked toward Marie.

  “Stop right there, or I’ll…”

  “You’ll what? And don’t be stupid. I’ve never hurt you.”

  The tightness in her chest hurt. “You’re the stupid one, Richard. And you have hurt me…in countless ways, and you’re still doing it.” She couldn’t believe she had just called him stupid.

  Richard didn’t respond right away. Instead he stood up a little straighter and pressed his shoulders back. “The only thing that makes me stupid is still being in love with you.” He tilted his chin up and looked down his nose at her. “Come back to me, Marie. We can make it together. We need each other.”

  “I don’t need you. Not anymore.” She had difficulty controlling her breathing given her heart was beating so fast.

  “You’re nothing without me.”

  “Get out.”

  He tipped his hat. “You need someone who’ll be there to protect you, darlin’.” He headed toward the door. “Someone like me.” He opened the door and exited, but not before dropping a piece of paper on the floor.

  Marie walked toward the door and locked it before picking up the piece of paper. It had been torn out of a newspaper. The headline read, “White Man Lynched for Dating a Negro.”

  Karen came out from the back of the store. “I heard everything. That man scares me.”

  Marie concealed the scrap of paper in her clenched fist. “Me too.”

  On her way to work the next day, Marie swung by the trash can to throw out a bag of garbage. When she popped off the lid, she stood there in a trance-like state for several disheartening seconds. On the top of the garbage was a Roseville vase, the foxglove design, shattered into little pieces. The note on top read, “For a very special lady. Happy birthday.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Catching the Monkey

  Marie’s interior design firm, Genesis Design Group, continued to flourish. With World War II embedded five years into history, the economy was stronger than ever, and people were no longer afraid to invest in new and improved furnishings, in both residential and commercial settings. She added two more designers to her staff in order to keep up with the demands from all the referrals she was getting.

  It had been almost three months since she had confronted Richard, and she had a constant nagging feeling that he was still occasionally around, but she never actually saw evidence of him until one evening when she and Karen were in Marie’s apartment watching The Ed Sullivan Show. Marie left the room during a commercial and went into her bedroom. Ten minutes later, Karen came in to check on her.

  “Come here, Karen, quick! See that?” She pointed to the house next door. “That’s Richard’s car, the blue Auburn.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s him. You know who lives next door, don’t you?”

  “The policeman?”

  “Yep. Somehow Richard must know him. That lousy son of a…”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  Marie cracked open the window, hoping to hear something. They watched the neighbor’s driveway for another ten minutes from their second story vantage point, but no one came out of the house.

  Marie wiped her sweaty palms off on her trousers and peered out the window. “He’s trying to scare me again, and I must admit he’s doing a good job at it.”

  Karen took hold of her arm. “Let’s go in the living room. You’re getting all worked up over what’s probably nothing.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “Nothing.” Her mind drifted. “Maybe you’re right,” she said, but inside she thought that “nothing” could be a whole lot of “something.”

  They retreated to the living room just as the television show ended. Karen turned it off.

  “Let’s say that was him. What’s it going to take for him to leave you alone?”

  “I don’t know. He’s pretty relentless.”

  “Well, you know what they say. If you want to catch the monkey, you have to climb the tree.”

  Marie gave her an uncertain look. “Another one of…”

  “My mother’s sayings. I know some of them are kind of corny, but they’re true. In other words, he wants you, the monkey, and he’s willing to climb any tree to get you. Unlike Paul. I think he may have wanted you, but he wasn’t willing to climb the tree.”

  “Let’s get serious. Paul wasn’t even willing to stumble over a low-lying bush for me.”

  “Hey, good one, kiddo.”

  Marie tried to suppress a smile.

  “Wonder if that’s the difference between being in love and just loving someone,” Karen suggested. “Whether you’re willing to climb the tree.”

  “I never thought about it that way. What is love anyway? I’m not sure I know anymore.”

  “One thing I figured out when I was married to Ed is to be in love with someone, you need passion. Once that passion is gone, there’s no more being in love.”

  “What about you and Maurice?”

  A flush of red crept up Karen’s neck up into her face. “Are you kidding? We can’t keep our hands off of each other.”

  “And Ed? I mean, how does that compare to Ed?”

  “When I think back to my marriage with him, which seems like a hundred years ago, I thought we had passion in the beginning. I remember times when we couldn’t rip off each other’s clothes fast enough before we made love. Hell, there were times we would come home and we couldn’t wait to make it into the house, so we did it in the back seat of our car.”

  “You said you had passion in the beginning. What changed?”

  Marie knew Karen still had a hard time talking about her late husband’s sexuality. It had been years after his suicide that she’d realized he was a homosexual, and she still didn’t completely understand or accept it, especially since during their marriage he seemed to have been a normal loving husband. This was the most she had said about him in a long time.

  “I don’t know. Somewhere along the way we lost it. Maybe that’s when he discovered…did I ever tell you there was a time I thought maybe he was having an affair? I even confronted him about it.”

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “He denied it, of course. Told me he loved me and that I was the only woman for him. Now I know what that meant, but I didn’t have a clue back then. He’d get emotional whenever we talked about it, and my Ed did not like to show his emotions, so eventually we just stopped talking about it.”

  “Do you still think about him?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately, especially when I’m with Maurice. I keep making comparisons. Stupid, isn’t it?”

  “No. I’ve done that with Richard too.”

  “Yeah, but Richard wasn’t a goddamn queer.”

  “Karen! You never swear!”

  “I know, but it still upsets me. What he did was…well, it was wrong, that’s all. And disgusting.”

  Marie wasn’t sure she would have characterized it that way, but
then she wasn’t in Karen’s shoes. “I wonder what makes people do that. I’m sure he didn’t do it because he was out to hurt or humiliate you.”

  “I don’t know. It’s illegal, isn’t it? Why does anyone do something that’s illegal? He must have gotten something out of it.” Karen made a face that said it all. “And to think I was lying in bed with him at the same time he was up to all that.”

  “But you had no suspicions, right?”

  “None. Zero. Nothing.”

  “That says something about men who do that…but I’m not sure what.”

  “It says they’re sick. That’s what it says.”

  “So how are things with you and Maurice?” She handed Karen a bowl of chocolates she had kept on hand for such an occasion.

  “Very funny,” Karen said, taking two pieces. “Good. Things are really good.” She shook her head. “You know, after Ed died, I never thought I’d ever be interested in anyone else.” She threw her shoulders back and shrugged. “I didn’t think I really needed a man.”

  “So tell me more about Maurice. Any more encounters with his mother?”

  “She’s such a basket case. Her birthday was last Saturday, and Maurice invited her over for dinner. Big mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “She spent the whole time talking about her doctors. She must have twenty of them. I lost count after she complained that her hepatologist didn’t use sterile instruments, and she needed to find another one, but the closest one she could find was in Illinois.”

  “What’s a hepatologist?”

  “Have no idea and didn’t dare ask.”

  “You know, we never did finish our conversation about what being in love is.”

  “How’s this? It’s a combination of trust, intimacy, passion, and commitment.” Karen waved her hand in the air as she spoke.

  “Hey, that’s almost profound, my friend! And then let’s add that it’s when you put your partner’s interests above your own.”

  “Oh, and let’s not forget empathy and equality.”

  “Yes, and what about loyalty?”

  “Marie?”

  “Yes?”

  “We need to get ourselves a couple of puppies, because there aren’t any men out there like that.”

  After Karen left, Marie glanced out her bedroom window at the house next door. The Auburn was gone.

  Marie had finished one of her early Saturday morning horse rides when Ted Braxton, owner of the ranch where she boarded J.B., followed her into J.B.’s stall where she was rubbing down the horse. Ted’s rugged good looks had caused Marie to wonder more than once if he was married. Or whether by any chance he knew or knew of her father, being they were in the same line of work.

  “Have a good ride?” he asked.

  “Sure did.”

  “Marie, do I remember you telling me you know a gun dealer in Kansas City?”

  Marie had met Barry Stone the year before when she made the decision to buy a gun when Richard took his bullying a step too far. He had sold her a Smith & Wesson .38 special revolver and then taught her how to use it. Barry had asked her out at the time, an invitation Marie had declined. She told Ted about him.

  “Well, I just inherited a slew of guns from my uncle, and I know I’m supposed to be a cowboy, but I know nothing about guns, and I’m interested in what they are and what they’re worth. Do you think he’d be able to help me?”

  “I don’t know, but he seemed to know an awful lot about guns. Do you want me to ask him if he’d take a look at them for you?”

  “Would you?”

  The following weekend, Marie accompanied Ted to Stone Guns and Ammo. On the way, she mentioned her father’s business. Ted said he didn’t know him.

  Barry greeted Marie with a smile and a quick run of his fingers through his hair. But the gleam in his eyes quickly faded when he saw Ted. He examined the display of guns in its entirety. “Hmm. Nice collection.”

  “Whatever you can tell me about them would be helpful,” Ted said.

  Barry picked up the first one. “This one is a Philadelphia-style derringer. Not the real McCoy, but still a good piece. Probably 44-caliber. My guess it’s from around 1850 or ‘60.”

  “Do you know what it’s worth?” Ted asked.

  He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know exactly what you could get for a piece like this, but I would think at least a hundred bucks, maybe more. This one here is also a copy of a Colt. Pretty sure it’s 32-cal. Nice engraving on the nickel. Worth less than the first one. Maybe half a yard.”

  “Half a yard?” Marie asked.

  “Fifty bucks.” When he picked up the next one, Barry’s eyes grew large. “Now this one is interesting. Colt 44. Dates back to probably 1860s or ‘70s. Original ivory grip. Looks Mexican to me. If you could find the right buyer, you may be able to get a couple hundred for this one.”

  “No kidding. Did you hear that, Marie?”

  Marie heard Ted say her name but was preoccupied with the familiar-looking car that had pulled into the parking lot and was now parked in the shadow of a large shade tree. Thinking it could be Richard, she didn’t understand how he could possibly have known where she was. She hadn’t told anyone where she and Ted were going this afternoon, not even Karen. Had he followed them? She turned back toward Ted and Barry and half-listened to the rest of their conversation.

  “This one is an Army Colt that was probably turned in after the war and refurbished. You can find a lot of these. I have two of ‘em myself. And this is another one of the same. See this engraving? The eagle and snake? That’s how I know it’s Mexican.”

  The last gun was a Smith & Wesson “lemon-squeezer,” the gold gilt finish worn but with little pitting. “Why do they call it a lemon-squeezer?” Marie asked.

  “See this safety? You have to squeeze the grip in order to release the safety and fire the gun. Like so.”

  “You’ve been a great help, Barry. I appreciate it.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll give you a hundred clams for the ivory-grip Colt.”

  Ted’s face lit up. “Hundred twenty-five and it’s yours.”

  “Deal.”

  Barry paid Ted, and as soon as Ted turned to leave, Barry shot Marie an eyebrow flash, smoothed the ends of his mustache, and said, “See ya ‘round.”

  Marie tried to get a better look at the man in the parked Auburn in the far corner of the parking lot, but his face was hidden by his fedora, similar to ones Richard owned. She watched the road behind them in the passenger side mirror of Ted’s car, but there was no sign of the Auburn.

  CHAPTER 15

  Fears

  Marie’s second Thanksgiving at the Brookses’ felt a lot like she was just another family member. She flew in a day ahead and helped Claire in the kitchen all afternoon, in an environment that was so much more comfortable than the year before.

  This morning, she joined Jonathan for an early morning ride before the big meal. Gregory, Gloria, Rachael, and Ben were expected late afternoon.

  “So tell me, Marie, why haven’t you filed for divorce from that illustrious husband of yours?” her father asked.

  They reached an open section of the trail where the sun shone brightly on their faces. She squinted, partially from the sunlight, partially because she didn’t have a good answer for her father. She told him about her confrontation with Richard in Karen’s shop.

  “But you and Cavanaugh decided filing for divorce was best, right?”

  She turned to meet his gaze. “We did.”

  “And?”

  “He wasn’t sure a judge would grant me the divorce based on his felony conviction because I had already left Richard when he was arrested, and that was my only chance of getting a divorce. He said it would depend on the judge, and Richard knows judges.”

  “Family court judges?”

  “I don’t know. Crooked judges.”

  He stopped his horse. Marie followed suit. “What are you afraid of, sweetheart?”

  A cold breeze swept in from the
north, causing her to shiver. She took her time answering. “I don’t know, Dad. I want to be divorced from him. I really do. It would make things so much easier.”

  “Let me ask you something. How many times have you relived that time, that horrific moment in time, when he pushed you down the stairs?”

  Marie took in a gulp. “Just about every day. I have nightmares about it, and sometimes I even have flashbacks during the daytime.” She hadn’t shared that with anyone else, even Karen. She thought she should have been over that trauma by now and didn’t want anyone to think she was weak, or worse yet, losing her mind. After all, the incident had occurred two and a half years earlier.

  “Well, I’m no shrink, but it may be that you’re re-experiencing that episode, maybe unconsciously, every time you think about divorcing Richard, and that scares you into doing nothing. Do you think that could be happening?”

  “Could be. When I wake up from the nightmare, I usually feel the same things, physically I mean, that I did when it happened. My heart is pounding. I feel sick to my stomach. I’m sweating.”

  “I’ll always be there for you, Marie. I think you know that. But you do realize this is something you have to face yourself, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, I told you before, my advice is to go through with the divorce, but you have to feel comfortable with it too. And I know you’ve said you don’t care what people think, but…”

  “What’s making you feel so strongly about this?”

  “As we both know, I’m not in any position to give moral advice, but I will anyway. Wouldn’t you feel much better if you weren’t married and Richard was completely out of your life before you start seeing other men?”

  “Yes, of course I would.” She thought about her father’s rationale. “But here’s the thing. First of all, as I’ve said before, the judge may not grant the divorce. But secondly, I’m not sure a divorce would get Richard out of my life anyway.”

  “And you’re not willing to take the chance?”

  “I guess not.” She looked at him. “So what does that say about me?”