JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Forty-Three

August 13, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Nadia paced nervously through the kitchen and living room, glancing at the front door every time she passed it. She had invited Sam to dinner, so that he would have a chance to meet her father, but the whole arrangement was making her more and more nervous. What if her father disapproved? What if John and Sam didn’t get along? What would she do then?

"Nadia, sit down. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor with all this pacing." Ruth closed the oven and frowned at her granddaughter.

Nadia sighed, walking back into the living room and sitting on the couch. She knew that it wouldn’t do any good to tell her grandmother how nervous she was—Ruth disapproved of the whole thing, though she tried to hide it.

In truth, Nadia wasn’t sure how she felt about any of it, either—she felt something for Sam, something deeper than she had felt before for anyone—but she didn’t know if what she was doing was right. So many people disapproved—was it possible that they were right, that they knew something she didn’t?

And yet, it felt right, in a way that Nadia instinctively understood but couldn’t quite put into words. Sam was a good man, someone she could respect and trust, and perhaps even—love? That was the question she couldn’t quite answer. How deep did her affection for him go? What did he feel for her? Were his feelings anything like hers? And if they did have love, could it ever work out? They came from two different worlds, and lived in a society that disapproved—sometimes more than disapproved—of such relationships.

The doorbell rang, startling her out of her reverie. She jumped up and hurried to answer it, pushing aside the yapping dog who whirled dementedly in front of the door, telling her that someone he approved of was outside.

Opening the door, she gave the half-grown mutt another shove and opened the screen door to let Sam in. "You made it!"

"Sure I did. You didn’t think I’d miss the chance to meet your dad, did you?"

Nadia looked at him sheepishly. "I wasn’t sure, actually. I thought my description of him might have scared you off."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her spine tingle. "He doesn’t sound that bad. Besides, aren’t fathers usually protective of their daughters?"

Nadia laughed with him. "Yes, he is protective—though he always worried more about Mary than about me, possibly because Mary could find trouble in a convent, while I usually behaved myself."

"So he trusts your judgment then?"

"Usually," Nadia agreed. "Although this time—he does have some doubts. I don’t think it’s anything personal—he doesn’t know you, after all—but he does know what society says. He hasn’t met many black people—this is Iowa, and there aren’t many in town—but he doesn’t seem bothered by the few who are here. He hired two black women to work in his factory—a pair of sisters—and wasn’t at all bothered by the fact that one was unmarried and the other had a husband crippled in the war who couldn’t work. The one who’s unmarried has a son, but he didn’t hire him. He’s too young, and anyway, Mom decided he was a good actor and gave him a contract—" She stopped, realizing that she was babbling. "Well…just wait until you meet him. He should be home in a few minutes…"

When John walked in about fifteen minutes later, Sam and Nadia were sitting on the couch, the dog between them, scratching the animal’s belly and talking about inconsequential things. He stopped when he saw them, not sure what to say.

A delighted yip from the dog distracted him. "Get off the couch!" he ordered, coming towards the animal.

Sam jumped, about to do as John asked, until he realized that he was talking to the dog. Embarrassed, he sat back down, watching as the dog jumped down and sat eagerly at John’s feet, tail thumping the floor, before jumping up on him.

"Down, Bowser," John ordered, patting the dog once on the head before pushing it away. Disappointed, the animal ran back to Sam, curling up at his feet and giving John a sad look.

Jane darted through the back door, her bare feet covered with dust and her old, worn dress grass-stained. "Daddy!" she squealed, launching herself at her father.

John greeted her with considerably more enthusiasm than he had greeted Bowser. Setting down his briefcase, he picked her up, tossing her into the air once before catching her and giving her a greeting hug. Jane giggled in delight.

Setting her down, he watched her grab his briefcase by the handle and drag it toward the corner where he left it when he was at home. It had become a daily ritual—she would put away his briefcase, but not before opening it and getting out the piece of candy he brought her each day. She wasn’t allowed to eat it until after dinner, but that didn’t spoil the fun.

Rose came down the stairs, Peter in her arms and an old towel over her shoulder. "Welcome home, love," she told John, still patting the baby’s back. Just as she reached him, the infant spit up, part of his most recent meal staining the worn fabric of the towel. Rose quickly wiped his mouth, then handed him to his father, hugging her husband while Peter looked over his father’s shoulder at Sam and Nadia, giving them a grin that showed his few teeth.

Nadia glanced at Sam, a little embarrassed by the chaos. "Welcome to the Calvert household," she told him.

*****

John finally got a chance to talk to Sam at dinner, which was served shortly thereafter. Ruth, Rose, and Nadia had each cooked something for the meal, a custom the three women had developed for guests, and even Ruth was polite, although she still cast disapproving glances at Sam and Nadia when she thought no one was looking. Still, politeness to guests—whether she liked them or not—had been ingrained in her since she was a little girl, and her disapproval of the relationship between her granddaughter and the "colored" man did not prevent her from treating Sam with cool politeness.

Sam was visibly nervous, dropping his fork on the floor and sloshing milk on the tablecloth when he picked up the glass. Jane giggled, while Bowser sat at his feet, hoping that something good would fall his way.

John stared at Sam—and at the milk spill on the expensive tablecloth—until Rose elbowed him in the side, whispering that he probably wouldn’t be so nervous if John stopped staring at him.

Finally, John spoke to him. "So, you’re the young man my daughter has been seeing."

"Uh…yes, sir…uh…Mr. Calvert."

"Your name is Sam?"

He nodded. "Sam Blass."

John tried to think of something to say to break the ice. "That sounds like an actor’s name."

"It’s my real name," Sam told him, a bit defensively. He hadn’t been acting for long, but he had learned what a stage name was.

"Yes—so Mrs. Calvert and Nadia say." He stopped, not sure what to say. He had never had a problem speaking to the boys that Mary, and occasionally Nadia, had brought home while they were in high school, but those had been adolescents, almost still children, whom his daughters had taken a liking to. He had been able to gauge their intentions almost immediately, and had warned several of them off, much to the dismay and embarrassment of his daughters. Sam was a grown man—the first Nadia had brought to meet him—and he knew that this was far more serious than any adolescent infatuation.

Finally, he decided to get right to the point. "What are your intentions toward my daughter?"

"Dad!" Nadia hissed, her face turning red. Why did he always have to embarrass her when she liked a young man?

"Well…uh…she’s an excellent teacher, and…"

"But what are your intentions?"

Sam looked at his plate, not sure what to say.

"Are you courting my daughter?"

Nadia buried her face in her hands, embarrassed at the old-fashioned word. It sounded like Sam was trying to win her hand in marriage—which had never yet come up in their conversations.

Sam looked at his plate for a moment longer, then decided that the truth was the best way to go. "Yes, sir. I am."

Nadia looked up at him in surprise. Was that really how he felt? Did he really want to be more than friends, more than teacher and student?

"You understand, don’t you, that Nadia has a future that involves more than just taking care of home and children?"

"Yes. She’s told me about college, and about her plans to become a teacher."

"And you won’t try to interfere with her plans?"

"No, of course not. I don’t think she’d let me even if I wanted to."

John nodded. Nadia was nothing if not stubborn, and he didn’t think that she would let anyone stand in her way, no matter how much she liked that person.

"Nadia is a fine young woman," Sam added, wondering if he was saying too much, but wanting to let her father know how he felt.

"Yes, she is," Ruth responded from the end of the table. Everyone turned to look at her. "And you’d best treat her well, and with respect, as she deserves. She’s my granddaughter, and worthy of no less."

Everyone stared at Ruth, who simply glared back and returned to her meal, ignoring the surprised looks.

"Well," Rose said after a moment. "I think that’s as close as you’re going to get to her approval, Sam. Thank you, Mother."

"Humph." Ruth just looked at Rose for a moment before concentrating upon her dinner again. She didn’t approve, and probably never would, but she realized that she had no say in the matter, and that it was best to just accept the situation. But she could still warn Sam off if he had any dishonorable intentions toward her granddaughter.

Rose put a hand over her mouth, smothering a laugh. Ruth’s reaction to Sam reminded her uncannily of her mother’s reaction to Jack nineteen years earlier. She disapproved, but she was too polite to say so openly. In this case, however, she had no choice but to accept the situation, no control over what Nadia did or over what John and Rose thought. She hadn’t really had as much control over Rose all those years before as she had thought, either, but here she didn’t even have the illusion of control.

John finally spoke again. "If you want to court my daughter, or date, as she calls it, you have my approval. I’m not entirely comfortable with this situation, but you seem to be a decent young man, better than some she’s taken an interest in." He looked at Nadia, who had narrowed her eyes at him at the remark about some of her previous boyfriends. "You’d better treat her right, though. If I ever hear that you’ve treated her wrongly…I’m sure I don’t have to describe the consequences to you."

"Dad!" Nadia hissed again, her face flaming. "Do you plan on taking a shotgun to him?"

"Only if he mistreats you, Nadia. However…" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I would recommend that you be discreet, and be careful. Most people will merely disapprove, or ignore things completely, but there are some…who believe that their ideas are the right ones, and will do anything to force others to agree with them."

Sam and Nadia both nodded. "I think we’ve both met some of them over the years," Nadia remarked.

"There are some in this town who disapprove, and who might hurt if they thought they could get away with it," John elaborated. "There’s a small but dangerous group of the Ku Klux Klan in this town, in case you didn’t know. So far, they’ve settled for posturing and making threats, but you never know when they might go too far, and the threats might spill over into violence. They might have some support, too, from people who…disapprove…of the relationship you two are forming. One of them works for Anders Cedar Rapids—at least one of them—and he harassed the two black women that work in the factory until I threatened to fire him. Some of them have sent nasty letters to Dawson Films, too, and tried to boycott the pictures. Not that they were very successful—the people of Cedar Rapids are proud of having a movie studio here, and flock to see the latest motion pictures it turns out, especially those who are in them. But Rose has had to hire extra security to make sure that no one harms the actors or crews, and that no one vandalizes the studio or destroys any of the sets or film."

Sam nodded, knowing what John was talking about. He had noticed the extra security, and he knew that there was a faction of the Klan in town—it was a matter of self-preservation to know such things. He felt that they were more likely to attack him than Nadia—she was, after all, white, and the daughter of John and Rose Calvert, both of whom were very influential in town. But he also knew that caution was called for, no matter what. He didn’t want to stop seeing Nadia, but if it was a matter of their safety…

"I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t date," John told them. "But I do want you to be careful. There are some people here who could hurt you, and wouldn’t hesitate if they thought they were right. Do as you please…but be discreet. I don’t want either of you getting hurt."

Nadia nodded, recognizing the wisdom of her father’s words. "I know, Dad. Thank you. And we will be careful. I promise."

Chapter Forty-Four
Stories