JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Fifty
August 20, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa
The Calverts and Sam and gathered at the
train station to see Nadia off as she returned to college. Nadia and Sam walked
hand-in-hand, staying back a little from the elder Calverts and Nadia’s younger
siblings.
Rose stood beside her husband, watching the young
couple uncomfortably. For once, she would be glad to see Nadia go away for a
while—it would give the tensions that had risen in the family a chance to
defuse. None of them objected to Nadia’s relationship with Sam—not anymore—but
Rose felt guilty over the way she had treated her mother the night before, and
she felt betrayed by her husband for the quick way he had moved to offer Ruth a
solution to her problems.
Rose didn’t know how to feel over the current
situation. She was angry with her mother, yes, and she had seen her do this
before—but had her still all too vivid memories of Jack made her react more
harshly this time than she should have? She didn’t think that Ruth had truly
meant any harm this time—and maybe not before, either.
Deep inside, Rose knew that she had always
been too quick to jump to conclusions, not always examining the facts before
she made a decision. Sometimes it had served her well to be able react quickly,
but other times—like now—she found herself questioning her actions and the
wisdom of them.
She knew, as did her mother, that angry
people in groups often talked boldly of doing things that that they would never
consider under other circumstances, and that often the plans made under such
circumstances never came to fruition, or were nothing but talk in the first
place.
Would she have believed the words if she had
been the one to hear them? Rose didn’t know. Some people had shunned her for
the way she accepted any and all good actors that she could attract to Dawson
Studios, but others paid it no heed, and still others accepted or even openly
praised the way she ran things. Certainly, it hadn’t lessened the popularity of
her films any.
And that may have been part of the problem,
she acknowledged. Things had gone well in spite of the opposition of some—not
only to her choice of actors, but also to the fact that she was an actress
herself, and a successful businesswoman in a time when many men couldn’t find
jobs. She and John wielded a great deal of power in the small town—and that power
and relative prosperity had made the whole family complacent. None of them had
seriously believed that any threats made toward them could be real—and that
included Ruth.
The events of the previous night had been
eye-opening. In spite of the their power and prestige, people could still
threaten them—and it was likely that most threats would come in the sneaky,
underhanded way that the Klan members had used the night before. Not many
people would threaten them openly—they were too well-known, and the town was
too small for much to remain a secret.
But these were hard times, and people whose
fortunes had not been so good as theirs were sometimes jealous, wishing to see
those who they interpreted as standing in their way or simply representing what
they hated be brought down. She and John both employed a lot of people—but they
couldn’t help them all, and some people would never be satisfied with what they
had, wishing instead to have more—and willing to do terrible things to get what
they wanted.
She knew that fewer people resented them than
resented other less-compassionate employers. She and John had both worked their
way up from the bottom, had seen what life was like for those less-fortunate,
and did their best to make life more tolerable for those they employed and
worked with. But it wasn’t always enough, and she knew it. There wasn’t much
either of them could do, though. Greater changes than they could make would be
needed to make things fair for everyone, and she didn’t know if such changes
could ever be brought about. All they could do was work with what they had, and
try to do their best.
There was no excuse for what had happened the
night before, though. No one, no matter what sort of anger they felt or grudge
they held, had the right to attack others. The Klan members had been thwarted
in their murder attempt the night before, but all too often they succeeded. Sam
had been extraordinarily lucky to survive, and Nadia had been lucky, too—she
could easily have been hurt or killed, too.
Rose hoped never to see such a thing again as
long as she lived. Perhaps if she had been raised in that society, she would
have understood—but her formative years had been very sheltered, and such
hatred had never occurred to her. She hadn’t seen many people of other races, and
they almost always been servants. But people of her own race were often
servants, too, so she had never learned to make any distinction. She knew now
that there were disparities in pay and treatment, but she had been so
entrenched in her own world growing up that none of it had ever struck her as
notable.
When she had grown older, Rose had begun to
try to break free from her world, but by then her impressions had already been
formed, and it didn’t occur to her notice differences in race. As before, she hadn’t
met many people who were a different race from herself, and she had been more
concerned with herself than with anyone else—and she had begun to cease to care
what others thought, making it less likely that such attitudes would affect
her. And when she had finally set out on her own, she had been too busy trying
to survive and make a life for herself to concentrate on hating others who had
done nothing to her, and who she had never met.
And so Rose had never learned to understand
unreasoning hatred. She saw no reason to hate or fear another person simply
because they looked different from her—it was what they did that mattered. She
had long since learned to read people’s body language, to be wary of those who
seemed too good to be true—and her judgment of people’s character was seldom
wrong. But when she did make mistakes, they were huge ones.
Which brought her back to the question of her
mother. Had she been right in pushing Ruth from her home without allowing any
explanation, any kind of argument? To be sure, her mother should have told Sam
and Nadia—or at least John or Rose—what she had heard, but what reason had she
had for believing that what she had overheard was anything more than the
disgruntled talk of men whose lives were not going as well as they wished?
And yet, Rose couldn’t overlook the fact that
Ruth had stood by and said nothing when she knew that there was a chance that
Sam and Nadia might be harmed. Her attempts at warning Sam away had been little
more than rudeness, something that both Sam and Nadia had come to expect from
her, and paid little attention to. If she had said outright what she had heard,
the horrifying events of the night before might never have happened.
But did it make Rose’s actions right? She
couldn’t get the shock on her mother’s face out of her mind—or her swift,
dignified exit that morning. Ruth would be all right—but would they ever be
able to reconcile, even if Rose wanted to? Rose was still angry, and her pride
would prevent her from admitting to Ruth that she might have been wrong. Too
many emotions had been brought to the surface, both new hurts and angers and
old ones, buried but still hurtful. What was done was done—perhaps irrevocably.
Rose sighed inwardly as Nadia stepped away
from Sam and came toward her, leaving Sam to keep watch over her luggage while
Nadia finished saying good-bye to her family. She cared for her mother; she
cared for Nadia—and through her, Sam. She didn’t know what to think.
Nadia threw her arms around Rose, hugging her
tightly, then turned to her father. "Sam and I…we’re both glad you did
what you did last night. He might be dead now if you hadn’t come after
him."
"It was the least we could do,
Nadia," Rose told her, hugging her stepdaughter in return. "We know
how much Sam means to you, and he’s been around so much, he’s practically a
member of the family." She watched Nadia glance back at Sam, a twinkle in
her eye, and wondered if Sam might become a real member of the family some time
in the near future.
Nadia looked at her parents. "I…we…we
don’t know yet what might happen. We’re going to think about it, and write
letters, and…when I come home from college for Thanksgiving, we’ll see then
what we might do."
Rose nodded, hoping that Nadia didn’t think
they were trying to push her into anything that she wasn’t ready for, or that
might not be right for her. Both John and Rose had come to admire and respect
Sam, but whether he and Nadia advanced their relationship to anything more than
what it already was was up to the young couple, not anyone else.
The train whistle blasted, warning the
passengers to hurry aboard. As Nadia turned towards the train, John finally
spoke. He hadn’t known quite what to say to her since the incident the night
before—especially after witnessing Nadia’s life-saving resourcefulness. He had
always regarded her as his quiet, shy daughter, but even after all the years
that he had been her father, there were facets to her personality that he had
never seen—and he was only now realizing that his little girl had grown up into
a brave, intelligent woman.
"Nadia!" he called, hurrying after
her.
She paused, waiting for him to catch up,
keeping a nervous eye on the train. Sam was standing near the entrance with her
suitcases, gesturing to her to hurry, but Nadia stopped for a moment to talk to
her father.
"Dad…" she began, not sure what to
say. She knew that he had regarded as his little girl before, and wondered what
he thought now that he had seen this more grown-up side of her.
John hugged her quickly, knowing that she had
to board the train. "Nadia, I’m proud of you. What you did last night to
save Sam’s life was dangerous, but I understand why you did it."
Nadia blushed a little, remembering her
loving words to Sam—all of which her father had heard clearly. "Dad,
I…"
"Nadia, I just wanted to tell you that
whatever you decide to do in the future—about this, or about anything else—is
all right with me, and with Rose. I think I’ve finally realized that you’re
grown up now—and while we’ll always be here for you, we won’t interfere in any
decisions you make."
Nadia hugged him back. "Thank you, Dad.
I’ll remember that—but I’ll probably still ask your advice. I always
have."
"I know, Nadia. And we’ll be there,
whatever happens in your life."
The train gave a final warning whistle and
started to move. Nadia let go of John and raced to the entrance, snatching her
luggage from Sam and jumping aboard just as it began to pick up speed. She
stood at the entrance, waving to them, until the train pulled out of the
station and moved away down the tracks.