Erica watched in disbelief as Leah accepted a gift from her mother. She even opened it-a new watch-and apologized for not having anything for her in return. Erica didn’t understand it. Leah had been adamant about not wanting to have anything to do with her mother after Grace had been taken. Leah seemed to believe-and Erica had no idea if it was true or not-that Mrs. Wendt had somehow plotted, planned or orchestrated the kidnapping with the social worker. Leah’s mother denied it, of course, and there was a time when Erica would have believed her, but Erica also never would have thought Mrs. Wendt would secretly sequester her daughter in a maternity home for unwed mothers and refuse to tell anyone where she was either, and she’d done that, so…
Erica didn’t move when the doorbell rang again, and this time it was Solie who answered. The surprise of Clayton Marshall Webber III in the mix of dinner guests didn’t faze anyone by then. Although she saw Father Michael scowl at the way Clay stood so close to Erica, close enough he could whisper things to make her laugh, and Clay managed to snag the seat next to Erica before Father Michael could.
They all sat down to dinner and Father Michael said the prayer, which was beautiful enough to make Erica’s throat develop a lump she had to swallow down, and she thought, as food got passed and the goose got eaten, along with Solie’s mashed potatoes and sweet potato pie, that this strange, surreal Christmas dinner might actually pass without incident, something she never would have expected when she answered the door and found Leah’s mother on their doorstep.
But that was before Father Patrick and Clay got into an argument about desegregation.
“Are you telling me you don’t believe institutions like schools and churches should be desegregated? What about
The old priest shook his head. “The letter of the law and the practical implementation of that law are two different things. We have all sorts of laws on the books, son, but we enforce some more than others.”
“I think there’s room in God’s house for everyone,” Father Michael interjected.
Clay sat back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “If we don’t desegregate our schools, our restaurants-yes, even our churches-we’re going to have race riots again like we had back in the ’40’s. Mark my words.”
Father Patrick chuckled. “How many black Catholics do you know, son?”
“Solie, wouldn’t you like to go to midnight mass with the Nolans every year?” Clay turned to the black woman to his left who clearing the main dishes to make room for dessert and Solie froze, blinking at him in surprise. “I mean, you make this beautiful dinner for them on Christmas, and I’m sure Mr. Nolan pays you a decent wage. But you can’t shop for food in the same stores. Your children can’t go to school with his. You can’t even go to church with them.”
“I like my little church,” Solie said with a laugh. “We have a lovely choir.”
Father Patrick smiled in triumph, wiping his lips with his napkin as Solie went back to the kitchen. “You see? Even blacks don’t want what the letter of the law tells us to do. Desegregation is just not enforceable.”
Clay wouldn’t drop it. “There are plenty of blacks who do want it. And I bet even Solie would change her mind if her wage didn’t depend on what she says.”
“Now wait a minute…” Robert Nolan tossed his napkin on his plate as Solie walked by. “If you’re implying-”
“They segregated the babies in the nursery.” Leah spoke up for the first time during dinner. Her voice was small, but they all heard her and stopped. “It was kind of sad to see all the little black babies on one side and all the white babies on the other. There was a window between them.”
“It’s not sad, it’s necessary,” Leah’s mother interjected. “Who knows what sorts of diseases those babies might pass on?”
Erica winced, feeling Clay stiffen beside her, and she met Leah’s incredulous stare, seeing the anger coming to a boil just under the surface. This wasn’t going to end well.
“What I mean is, they’re
“So white babies might catch something from the little black babies, Mrs. Wendt?” Clay asked. “I just want to be clear about what you’re saying. The white babies have inferior immune systems?”
“No…” Leah’s mother flushed, looking flustered, searching the table for someone to rescue her.
Father Patrick made the attempt. “I know what you mean, Patty.”
“I wish I was a black girl.” Once again, Leah stopped the rest of the conversation, looking across the table at her mother, who gaped at her in shock. “Do you know why? Can you guess?”
No one said anything. They didn’t even move. They were all looking at Leah.
“Because all the black girls, they got to keep their babies. It’s true! But all the white girls, they had to give theirs away. Why is that, I wonder?”
“Leah…” Rob put a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh I’m sorry, we’re all supposed to pretend, aren’t we?” Leah snapped, glaring across the table at her mother. “We’re all supposed to pretend that I wasn’t sent away, that I didn’t have a baby. That my baby wasn’t stolen from me and given to some rich couple who could afford to give a very generous donation to the church!”
“Leah, stop.” Patty Wendt tossed her napkin on her plate. “No one wants to hear this.”
“You want me to stop? Why should I stop? Why? You don’t want everyone to know the shame I’ve brought on you? Please, Mother. What was my crime?” Leah stood, tears filling her eyes. “I fell in love. I got pregnant. I had a baby. In the end, the only difference between me and you was a wedding ring and a marriage license. And yours were fake anyway, weren’t they?”
“Leah!” Patty sat back in her chair like she’d been punched in the stomach.
“I’m going to be married, Mother. Does that finally make you happy? I have a ring.” She waved it under her mother’s nose across the table. “Does that make it better? I’m going to be married in the church like a good Catholic girl. And
“Leah.” Rob stood, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Enough.”
Father Patrick stood too, pointing a gnarled finger at her. “Not in my church, you’re not!”
“What?” Rob turned to look at the old priest, incredulous. “What are you saying?”
“Your child was born out of wedlock,” Father Patrick reminded her-reminded them all. “I have a right and a duty to guard the sacrament of marriage. You could never get married in the church. You have sinned in the eyes of God. And even if you do find this child, she can never be baptized in the faith.”
Leah’s mother took a drink of her wine, looking over at her daughter. “It doesn’t matter, really. You’re young, you’re getting married. You’ll have plenty more children.”
Erica grabbed Clay’s hand under the table, squeezing hard. How could she say something like that? She saw the pain in Leah’s eyes.
Father Michael stood, putting his hand on the old man’s arm, trying to make peace, like always. “We can make exceptions…”
“We can.” Father Patrick glared at Leah. “But we will not.”
“You hypocrite!” Leah lunged across the table at the clergyman, but Rob grabbed her in time to save what was left of the goose in the middle of the table and to keep her from gouging out the old man’s eyes. “Half the babies that are born at Magdalene House are your responsibility! You-!”
“I think you’d better go, Father,” Rob interrupted her and Leah struggled against the restraint of his arms, hissing at him like a cat, but he didn’t let her go.
“I’m sorry.” Father Michael took the older priest’s elbow, guiding him out of the dining room without another word.
“I think you’d better go with him, Mother!” Leah snapped, eyes blazing.
“Fine.” Patty Wendt stood, following the clergyman, glancing over her shoulder and calling back, “You really need to help her start accepting the way things are, Rob. You can’t coddle her forever.”
Leah screamed at that. It wasn’t intelligible, it was just a scream, so loud and blood-curdling that Erica felt frozen in her chair.
“Yeah. I should go too.” Clay stood, looking at Erica as he edged his way around the table. Leah was still screaming, crying now, turning in Rob’s arms, clawing at him. Erica begged Clay with her eyes, but he didn’t understand. He just gave a little wave. “Thanks for dinner, Nolans.”
