JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Fifty-Four
November, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Christopher crouched behind a
crate, waiting for a moment when the rail workers would be distracted. He had
been riding the rails for over a week now, sneaking aboard freight trains and
slowly making his way back to Iowa.
He had gone to California first,
just as Mary had hoped, but in spite of her "connections", he hadn’t
been able to make a living as an actor, and had soon moved on. He had gone to
Oregon after that, doing whatever odd jobs he could find to support himself,
but there was a lot of competition for work, and what he could find didn’t pay
well—he could rarely afford shelter unless it was a part of his wages. It
hadn’t mattered much in the summer, but as winter approached, he found that
camping out was becoming more and more difficult—and he was more hungry when it
was cold and he couldn’t find work, too.
He knew that his father had
survived five years on the road, but economic conditions had been better then,
work more plentiful—and his father hadn’t had the option of returning home.
Much as Christopher wanted to see the world, he wasn’t used to this life, and
by October, thoughts of returning home to Iowa had consumed him. Late in
October, he had sneaked aboard a train heading east, and had been slowly making
his way back towards Cedar Rapids ever since.
An argument broke out over the
best way to move some freight. Crouching low, Christopher dashed out from
behind the crate and headed for the rail yard fence. He was halfway up the
fence before anyone noticed his presence.
"Hey, you! Come back
here!" An angry shout rose from the small group of workers.
Christopher ignored the shout,
judging that he could be over the fence before anyone could catch him. He just
hoped that none of them recognized him—that could make it uncomfortable for him
now that he was back in town.
Reaching the top of the fence, he
jumped off the other side, landing with only a slight stumble. Seconds later,
he was running down the road, heading in the direction of his old home.
*****
Christopher was dismayed—but not
surprised—to find no one home. Leaving his few belongings out of sight under
the porch, he washed up quickly at an icy faucet in the yard and headed into
town, deciding to stop at Anders Cedar Rapids first, as it was closer than his mother’s
movie studio.
When he arrived there, he walked
straight in, ignoring the receptionist’s look of distaste at his tattered
appearance. She moved to stop him, but then, recognizing him, waved him on,
looking at him a bit strangely as he passed by.
When he reached John’s office, he
nodded to Mrs. Wilde, whose eyes widened at the sight of him. He grinned, a bit
sheepishly. He knew he didn’t look his best right now.
"Uncle John?" He slowly
opened the door to John’s office when Mrs. Wilde indicated that he could go in.
John looked up from the paperwork
he was doing, both surprised and pleased to see his stepson. "Christopher!
What are you doing here? When did you get back into Cedar Rapids?"
Christopher ducked his head, a
bit embarrassed. "Well…life is hard out there, so I thought I’d come home
for a while…I know that’s not what I thought I’d do, but…"
"Mary wrote to tell us that
you’d left Los Angeles. Why didn’t you write to us after that?"
"Well…um…I didn’t think
about it much…and I didn’t really have the money for sending a letter
anyway…"
John frowned at him. "Surely
you could have written at least once. We were worried about you."
Christopher shuffled his feet,
looking down. "I’m sorry, Uncle John."
"Not even Mary knew exactly
where you’d gone." John sighed. "Well, you’re back now. How did you
get here, by the way?"
"I…uh…I…"
"Sneaked aboard trains, did
you?" John looked pointedly at Christopher’s black eye, an injury received
during a scuffle with another man in a boxcar.
"Well…I didn’t have any
other way to get here…Oregon is a long way away."
"Oregon! You did travel
far."
"Yeah…well…I’m back now.
Uh…there wouldn’t happen to be any job openings at Anders, would there?"
"None right now, but I can
try to fit you in somewhere."
"Or maybe Mom has something
open."
John sat back in his chair,
steepling his fingers. "No, I guess you wouldn’t have heard."
"Heard what?"
"Your mother and grandmother
had a falling out late in August, and your grandmother is now living with
friends on the other side of town and working here. Your mother and I had
some…tensions…between us over that, especially since I offered your grandmother
a job instead of letting her try to survive on the street. A few days later,
your mother was offered a role in an ‘epic production’ directed by her old
friend Jonathan Hinesdale, and she took your brother and sister and went to
California. She hasn’t been back since."
Christopher frowned. "When
is she supposed to be back?"
"Last week."
"What?"
"I last spoke to her three
days ago. She said she was still filming, but Mary told me that they’d finished
almost two weeks ago. Both Rose and Mary are in this picture."
"Maybe Mom had some stuff to
finish up that Mary isn’t in."
John shook his head. "Maybe,
but I doubt it. I don’t know what she’s doing right now—or if she has any
intention of coming back."
"She has to. Her studio is
here…she wouldn’t abandon that."
"Miss Markman has been doing
an admirable job of running the studio in your mother’s absence."
"So…what does this mean? Are
you two getting a divorce?" Christopher was uncomfortable with the idea,
in spite of the fact that he had been less than pleased with the idea of John
and Rose marrying several years earlier.
"I don’t know, Christopher.
I really don’t. I would like her to come home so we can try to work things out,
but…"
"What did she and Grandma
Ruth fight about, anyway?" Christopher asked. "What was so important
about it that she got mad at you for giving Grandma Ruth a job?"
"I don’t know all the
details, Christopher. What I do know is that your grandmother overheard some
men making threats towards Nadia and a young man she was dating, Sam Blass, and
failed to warn them before they went out for one last date before Nadia
returned to college. That night, they were attacked by several local members of
the Ku Klux Klan—are you familiar with them?"
Christopher nodded. "I met a
Klan member in Oregon…he was absolutely certain that his views and what he was
doing were right, and nothing would change his mind. Mom would have called him
insufferable."
"And possibly a few other
choice words. At any rate, the Klan members attacked Nadia and Sam—"
"Why did they attack
them?"
"They were offended by the
idea of a white woman and a Negro man dating."
"Sam is Negro?"
"Yes—not that it matters to
Nadia—or to Sam, for that matter."
Christopher thought about it for
a moment, then nodded. "I know that some people violently object to a
relationship like that, but…why did they attack Nadia? Didn’t they realize who
she was…or more importantly, who you are?"
"They did, and that was why
they chose such a sneaky way of going about their attack. They wore their hoods
and…I’m not sure what the other part of their costumes are. They look like bed
sheets. Whatever they’re called, they use them as a disguise. Anyway, they
attacked them as they were walking back here. Nadia managed to bite their
ringleader, James Saunders—"
"Mr. Saunders? But he always
seemed so quiet!"
"So did Nadia, but she was
the one who wound up rescuing Sam."
Christopher gaped at him,
astonished at the idea of his quiet, ladylike stepsister rescuing someone from
the Klan. "How did she do that?"
"The Klan members took Sam
away in a car, and Nadia ran home to get us. Your mother and I got our guns and
went looking for Sam, Nadia tagging along. We found him in time to prevent him
from being lynched…although we had the help of a mob of local men who detested
the Klan for various reasons. Some, I’m sure, were just looking for excitement,
but whatever their motivation, they were there when we needed them. At any
rate, your mother and I identified Saunders and held him at gunpoint while
Nadia managed to climb the tree they were trying to hang Sam from and cut
through the rope with a knife she had sneaked out of the house."
"It sounds like something
out of a movie."
"Nadia has said that she got
the idea from movies, although real life didn’t work nearly as well or as
easily…the branch she was sitting on to cut the rope broke, and she was lucky
that she didn’t fall on the knife or injure herself in the fall…ironically
enough, she landed on Saunders and that broke her fall."
"So she saved Sam’s
life."
"Yes. He still works for
your mother’s studio."
"Is he an actor?"
"Yes. He’s been in three
films now."
Christopher nodded, thinking.
"But what does this have to do with Mom and Grandma Ruth falling
out?"
"Your mother was very upset
that your grandmother hadn’t said anything about what she’d overheard…although
she did try to warn Nadia and Sam, after a fashion. Unfortunately, they took it
as just more of her rude remarks about them and ignored her. If she had said
something openly, they might not have gone out that night, or they would at
least have been more careful. But Ruth wasn’t sure that what she’d overheard
really meant anything—many men will talk big without ever doing anything—and as
she later told me, she didn’t want to be accused of trying to ruin those men’s
reputations if what she overheard was just talk."
Christopher nodded; his
grandmother had always been concerned with what others thought, unlike his
mother, who did as she pleased and usually got away with it, possibly because
she was confident. Ruth had never had quite so much confidence.
John went on. "Your mother
and grandmother argued…your mother reminded her about another incident,
apparently one that happened on the Titanic, in which Ruth let an innocent man
be taken away and locked up while the ship was sinking. I don’t really know how
much in common these two incidents had, but your mother felt very strongly
about it and said that your grandmother hadn’t changed at all, and then demanded
that she leave the house. I told Ruth that there would be a job for her if she
wanted it—and that was what set your mother off against me."
Christopher frowned. "I know
that Mom has some strong views about things, but she isn’t usually cruel like
that."
"I don’t know much about the
incident that happened on the Titanic, but it seems to have involved both your
mother and grandmother…and your mother has never forgotten about it…or forgiven
it, apparently."
"Could it have involved my
father?"
"I don’t know, Christopher.
She didn’t say."
"If it did, then maybe I can
talk her into coming back. She shouldn’t have done that to Grandma Ruth, but
maybe they can make up. I remember when I first met Grandma Ruth, how
overwhelmed she and Mom looked to see each other. They might get mad at each
other, but still…I think Mom still cares for her mother."
"She probably does, but she
has a damnable amount of pride, as does your grandmother. I’ll be honest,
Christopher. I’m worried about your grandmother. She’s not in good health.
She’s getting old, and her health was starting to fail when she lived with us.
It’s worse now. I don’t know how long she can continue to work, and her friends
can’t afford to support her if she isn’t working."
"Couldn’t she get relief
from the government?"
"She could, but she won’t.
She refuses to take charity."
"But she was always happy to
live with us."
"I think she viewed that a
little differently. She—"
John was interrupted by a knock
on the door.
"Mr. Calvert?" Mrs.
Wilde opened the door slightly.
"What is it, Mrs.
Wilde?"
"The foreman of the baked
goods packing line is here…he says it’s about your mother-in-law."
"I’ll be right out." He
sighed and headed for the door, Christopher following him. "What’s going
on, Mr. Kinley?"
"Mr. Calvert, it’s your
mother-in-law…Mrs. DeWitt Bukater collapsed while working a few minutes
ago…I’ve already called the doctor."
"Shit." John turned and
rushed in the direction of the packing room, Christopher close on his heels.