Part 13 (2/2)
”I've searched every one of those books, and there's nothing,” her grandmother insisted. ”Don't waste your time. You have a baby to take care of.”
Propping Lizzie on her lap, Dana rubbed her back.
Corinne walked over and joined them. ”Her skin is just beautiful, Dana. Oliver and I have a good friend whose great-grandmother was visibly African American. Our friend has blond hair and blue eyes. I've always thought she would look much more distinct if she had some of those earlier traits.”
Distinct. Dana liked the sound of that word. ”Distinct” could mean unique, as in special, which was how Dana saw the baby. Or it could mean having immediately recognizable traits, which was how the Clarkes saw it. ”Does your friend identify with her great-grandmother at all?”
”Identify? Perhaps privately. Acknowledge? Not publicly. Her life is very white.”
Dana winced. ”Why does that remark jar me?”
”It's blunt,” Gillian said.
”Blunt,” confirmed Corinne, ”but not inaccurate. Black people 'pa.s.s' all the time.”
Dana liked that remark even less. ”How do you define 'black'?” she asked.
”This country adheres to the one-drop rule,” Corinne said smoothly. ”That's why my friend is quiet about her history. She and I were in the same dorm at Yale. Soon after Oliver and I started dating, she began seeing a friend of Oliver's who was noticeably African American. Her mother had a fit when she found out. The experience brought us closer. I respect who she is and understand what she does. We serve together on the board of the museum.”
”Then is the difference between races a socioeconomic one?” Dana asked.
But Corinne was glancing at her Rolex. ”Speaking of the board, I have to run. We're in the final countdown for our major fundraiser. The baby really is adorable, Dana. Enjoy her.”
Dana watched Corinne glide to the table, slip her knitting in a project bag, and head for the door. Annoyed by the conversation, she said a little bitterly, ”How can Corinne wear linen and never wrinkle?” Her own blouse looked slept in. Granted, there had been a baby beneath it minutes before. Still, ”I look at linen, and it wrinkles.”
”Starch,” Tara said. ”She's that kind of woman.”
Dana agreed. Prior to talking with Corinne, she had actually been feeling good about herself.
She lifted Lizzie, and looked at her face. ”Corinne is odd.”
The baby burped. Dana and Tara laughed.
”She always buys the cheapest yarn,” Dana went on. ”Have you ever noticed? She'll admire a skein of pure cashmere and talk about how much of it she needs for a particular sweater, then she'll say something like 'I'm buying that yarn right after I finish this scarf.' It's always scarves now. It used to be sweaters.”
”Scarves are fas.h.i.+onable.”
”The ones she makes use a single skein of sock-weight wool for a total of five bucks.”
”She does a beautiful job,” Ellie Jo said in Corinne's defense. ”Not all women can.”
”But she never does buy the expensive yarn, does she?”
Ellie Jo nodded. ”She does. Just last week, she bought a skein of Jade Sapphire 2-ply. That's thirty-five dollars.”
”A skein? One?”
”That's all the pattern called for. She's making a beret.”
”Okay,” Dana said, offering Lizzie the other breast, ”maybe I'm wrong about that, but forget buying yarn. She's just too smooth to be real. Nothing ruffles her.”
”That's a good thing,” argued Ellie Jo. ”I wouldn't ridicule it.”
”I'm not,” Dana said, struggling to verbalize what she felt. ”It's just that she's so calm. I mean, she's told stories about her mother running off to be part of a religious cult and her husband surviving childhood leukemia and the guy who renovated their house bilking them of hundreds of thousands of dollars. It's like her life has a gazillion traumas, but she doesn't blink.”
”You missed the one about her father dying in a plane crash,” Gillian murmured.
”Her father?” Dana asked in disbelief.
”She's convinced it was sabotage.”
Dana looked from one face to another. ”See? That's what I'm saying. How can one have all of these awful experiences, and still be even-tempered?”
”She's rich,” Tara remarked. ”That helps.”
Technically, as Mrs. Hugh Clarke, Dana was rich, too. That didn't keep her from suffering emotional ups and downs. And now Corinne mentioned the one-drop rule? Dana didn't feel black. How could she look in the mirror, at pale skin and blond hair, and feel African American? Was that how the Clarkes were seeing her? No, she didn't feel black. But she was starting to feel exposed.
”Maybe Cousin Emma knows something,” Dana suggested. ”She always claimed she was close to Mom.”
”Do not call Emma,” Ellie Jo said. ”She knows nothing.”
Dana was startled by her grandmother's force. ”Don't you think, even for Lizzie's sake-”
”I don't. Your father had no part in raising you. He doesn't even know you exist. He spent a week with your mother and never bothered to call her afterward. That was neither caring nor responsible.”
”What if he wasn't a student but was just pa.s.sing through?” Gillian asked. ”What if he did try to reach her afterward, only she was already gone? There could be any number of innocent explanations.”
But Ellie Jo's mind was made up. With uncharacteristic vehemence, she said, ”Do not look for the man, Dana. It will only cause you grief.”
Silence followed her outburst. Dana was as mystified as the others. Talk about calm characters, Ellie Jo topped the list. The only explanation now was that she felt threatened by the possibility of Dana's father reappearing and vying for her affection.
Ellie Jo stood. ”I'm going back to the house for a bit.”
”Are you feeling all right?” Gillian asked.
”I'm fine. I'm fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. I have a right to be seventy-four, don't I?”
”Gram?” Dana called, sharing Gillian's concern.
But Ellie Jo didn't stop. The screen door dinged open and slapped shut.
Chapter 11.
Dana stared after her. When the door dinged again a few seconds later, she thought it was Ellie Jo regretting her brusque departure, but it was Saundra Belisle, looking behind her, probably puzzled that Ellie Jo hadn't stopped to speak.
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