JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Forty-Two

August 9, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Several weeks had passed since Nadia had agreed to teach Sam to read. She worked with him daily, starting with the alphabet and moving on to words and reading. He had proven to be the sort of student that teachers loved—he learned quickly and showed an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

He progressed quickly enough that he was able to read some of his few lines by July, when the filming began. To be sure, his reading was slow, and he often needed help with words that he couldn’t sound out, but he was doing remarkably well for someone who had only begun to learn to read one and a half weeks earlier.

Being pushed together for the tutoring sessions had only served to increase Sam and Nadia’s interest in one another. Nadia often found an excuse to hang around the studio during filming, hoping to see him, until Rose had threatened to film her if she didn’t keep her distance while people were working. Chastened, Nadia had stopped hanging around, enjoying Sam’s company while she taught him. It wasn’t long, though, before they decided that the tutoring sessions weren’t enough, and began going off together, trying to be discreet. Iowa was a far cry from Mississippi, but they knew better than to announce to the whole town that there was something between them. They didn’t often frequent public places, but instead contented themselves with going on picnics, walks, and drives when Nadia could get the car.

They soon found that they had a lot in common. Much to Nadia’s surprise, she soon found that she and Sam shared an interest in the arts, although their experiences were very different—Nadia had been to college, and knew a fair amount about art, theater, and dance—as well as about film, being Rose Dawson’s stepdaughter—while Sam knew only about the folk art of the people he had grown up with and what he had seen after he had left home. But both knew things that the other didn’t, and they were able to learn from one another.

They both also had a love for learning, even with their very different educational backgrounds. Part of Sam’s success in learning to read so quickly was caused by the fact that there were a great many things he wanted to know—and the more he learned, the more he wanted to know. Nadia soon began to lend him books from the Calverts’ collection—first the simple children’s books that belonged to Jane, and then more difficult books as his skill increased—under the stipulation that he return them to herself or Rose as soon as he was done. She didn’t want the books getting lost.

Sam’s part in Rose’s latest film had been small, and he was soon finished with shooting it, but she had been sufficiently impressed with his work that she had offered him a contract, not wanting to lose him to Hollywood. Sam had enjoyed being a motion picture actor, but he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to be under contract—not after Rose had gone over the long-term contract with him and explained what everything meant. He wasn’t so sure that he wanted to be tied down that way.

Rose had understood—she had always felt the same way, going from studio to studio—but she still hoped that he would sign the contract. It wasn’t often that she found that level of talent so quickly, especially in an untrained person. She had pointed out to him that it would mean steady work, and if there came a time when there was no picture for him appear in for a while, he was welcome to learn how things worked behind the scenes.

He still wasn’t sure if he wanted the contract, though, so Rose had assured him that the offer was open any time, when and if he decided to take her up on it.

*****

In spite of their discretion, people did notice Sam and Nadia together. Some didn’t care—it wasn’t something that concerned them, and others had noticed that Nadia was olive-skinned—and possibly of another race—so whatever relationship she had with Sam didn’t bother them. Other people, however, had noticed, and while it wasn’t such a scandal as it could have been—it wasn’t the first time that a member of the Calvert family had done something that society disapproved of—it still attracted attention, and people began to gossip.

Both Sam and Nadia had noticed that people were talking—and it wasn’t all kind words—but they tried to ignore them. Some of the gossips were more shocked by the fact that Nadia, the daughter of one of the most well-off men in Cedar Rapids, was going about with a man who had been a janitor, than by the fact that the man in question was of a different race. But among those who were shocked by Nadia’s relationship with Sam, the gossip was more vicious, more outraged, and much uglier.

John had known that something was going on between Sam and Nadia—he had allowed his daughter to use the car for their drives on occasion—but he hadn’t really been paying attention. Nadia was an adult, and had a good head on her shoulders. She was quite capable of thinking for herself.

Some of the gossip, however, disturbed him. He didn’t believe all of it—he knew how rumors could spread, and grow with each telling—but he was concerned for his daughter’s reputation, and for that of the family. Finally, one evening in August, he decided to confront her about it.

The family was gathered around the dinner table, Rose patiently spooning baby food into Peter’s mouth while everyone else attempted to ignore the mess the baby was making. Nadia was eating quietly, occasionally shooing away the dog who sat beside the high chair, staring at the baby hopefully.

She looked up in surprise when John cleared his throat. "Nadia, there’s something I wanted to ask you about," he started, not sure how to broach the subject.

"What?" Nadia had a sneaking suspicion about what it was, but wasn’t going to encourage trouble.

"You and Sam…ah…I take it he’s making good progress in his studies?"

"Yes." Nadia avoided his eyes.

Realizing that Nadia wasn’t going to volunteer any information, John got to the point. "Nadia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a lot of…rumors circulating about the two of you. Tell me the truth—have you been dating him?"

Nadia shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "Well, it isn’t exactly dating. We’ve been going around together…" She looked up. "Contrary to what you might have heard, we are not having an affair."

Ruth gasped at the idea, but both John and Nadia ignored her. "I didn’t think that you were, but I am concerned about what you might be getting yourself into."

Nadia bristled. "Dad, I’m an adult. I know what I’m doing."

John sighed. "Nadia, I’m just worried about your reputation—"

"It’s not my reputation that you’re worried about." Nadia glared at him. "You just don’t like the idea that I might be dating a black man!"

"Nadia, I just—"

Angrily, Nadia slammed her fork down and stormed out of the room, leaving her father staring after her.

*****

After dinner, Rose went upstairs to Nadia’s room. Knocking quietly on the door, she waited for a response.

"Nadia? Can I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Nadia’s feet pounded across the bare floor. Unlocking the door, she let Rose in, then went back to staring out the window.

Rose quietly closed the door behind her, going to stand beside her stepdaughter. Nadia immediately moved away, sitting on the edge of her bed and ignoring Rose.

"Nadia…" Rose sat down beside her, putting an arm around her before she could move away again.

"What?" Nadia’s voice was sullen.

"About what happened earlier…I think that you and your father had a bit of a misunderstanding."

"I didn’t misunderstand a thing."

"I talked to him, Nadia, and he was rather…confused…by your behavior. He wasn’t sure what had set it off."

"He did."

"He didn’t mean to. Nadia, it’s true that he’s a little uncomfortable with the idea of your dating a man of another race…but he won’t try to stop you, if it’s what you want to do. You’re an adult now, and you can do as your please."

"He was complaining about the gossip."

Rose sighed, rubbing Nadia’s stiff, tense back as her stepdaughter crossed her arms and set her face stubbornly. "He was concerned about your reputation, and that of the family. The gossip may not be true, but it can be extremely damaging."

"I don’t care what people think."

"You may not think so now, but it can be hard to go against what everyone—or seemingly everyone—thinks is acceptable. You have to be strong to go against something like that."

Nadia just shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge the truth of Rose’s words. Rose continued.

"Nadia…I can’t say that I agree with the way that much of the world thinks. I think that there’s a lot of narrow-minded people out there, people who are so set in their own way of thinking that they can’t accept any other way. But like it or not, the fact remains that they do exist, and you have to be strong and sure of yourself to go against them."

"Of course I’m strong! I went against what people thought at college, didn’t I?"

"Yes, you did," Rose acknowledged. "You knew that you were right, you knew what you wanted, and you came through. Sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices." She turned Nadia to face her. "How do you feel about Sam, Nadia? Are you willing to make those sacrifices for him?"

Nadia looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. "I don’t know, Mom. I feel…he’s special. More special than any man I’ve known…but I’m not sure how deeply I feel about him."

"How does he feel about you?"

"I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be after Dad’s money, or yours, and he doesn’t try to take advantage of me."

"Do you love him?" Rose asked, remembering a time long ago when someone had asked her that same question.

Nadia’s eyes flew open. "I…I don’t know." She wrung her hands, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Mom…if you love someone, don’t you know right away?"

"Not necessarily, Nadia. It took me many years to realize that I love your father. Sometimes, things have to change before you can understand something like that. You have to live a little, grow up some, before you can understand. Other times…you know quickly, and age or experience don’t matter. But I will tell you this—when you truly love someone, it doesn’t matter what race they are, or what their social status is, or how much money they have. It just feels right."

"Like Dad loves you, even though you’re an actress and a lot of people thought that it wasn’t right for him to marry you."

"Yes. But we both lucky—it worked out for the best, and neither of us had to give up anything to make it work. A long time ago…it was different for me."

"You mean with Christopher’s father?"

"Yes. We were of…different social classes. He was poor, while I came from a wealthy Philadelphia society family. My family had fallen on hard times, and my mother was determined that I make a good marriage so that our finances would be restored."

"And Christopher’s father wasn’t the person that Grandma Ruth had in mind."

"No, he wasn’t. She opposed the match bitterly, but we defied her, and…married. He died shortly thereafter, in the Titanic disaster, and some months later, Christopher was born. But after he died, I couldn’t go back to Mother. She wouldn’t have allowed it—not then, anyway. I went to live with your father, as a caretaker for you and Mary, and didn’t see my mother again until Christopher was twelve years old. She thought I had died in the sinking, until she saw my picture in a magazine."

"How sad. At least you found each other then, though." She paused, thinking. "Did she approve of your marrying Dad? She didn’t seem unhappy…"

"Yes, she approved. But by that time things were different. She was no longer afraid to work for a living, or so intent upon my marrying a man of our society. Back when I married Christopher’s father, she might well have rejected your father as a potential suitor, even if he had been as wealthy as he was when we married, which he wasn’t. Mother had strong feelings about ‘new money’."

"Why?"

"It was the way people of our society were taught to believe…that people who had earned their own fortune, and worked for a living, were crass and not as refined as we were. Perhaps not, but they were often more open than us, more willing to try new things and take chances. That was how they became wealthy—that, and a lot of luck." She hugged Nadia as the young woman fidgeted. "Nadia, what I’m trying to say is that things won’t always work out as you would like—but whatever happens, there’s good in it. Maybe things will work out with Sam. Maybe they won’t. There’s no guarantees. Just think for yourself, and don’t let anyone else make your choices for you—not your father, not your grandmother, and not me or anyone else. I don’t think that your father is as against the idea as you might think—if he were so concerned with not letting in people who are different from him, he wouldn’t have taken you in. But he did, all those years ago—and I don’t think he ever regretted it. I remember the first time that you spoke after I came to live with you, and how pleased he was when you ran up to him with Mary, both of you calling him daddy. He accepted you as a member of his family—he adopted you about the time that the three of you became citizens. I don’t think that he’d object to Sam if he knew him. Perhaps you should invite Sam over to meet him—for dinner, maybe."

"Grandma wouldn’t like that."

"There’s a lot of things your grandmother doesn’t like, but she usually comes around once she gets used to the idea. It’s up to you, of course—and Sam—but I think that your father would be more accepting of the idea that there is something between the two of you—whatever it works out to be—if he met him. I already know Sam, and have found him to be a good, decent young man. Your father hasn’t met him—but an introduction may help."

Nadia looked up at Rose, still uncertain but growing more hopeful. "I’ll think about it, Mom. Do you really think that Dad would want to meet him?"

"I’m sure of it, Nadia."

Chapter Forty-Three
Stories