Chapter 40
ETHEL
Ethel’s mother used to say that time was a thief that never got caught, and Ethel couldn’t agree more as she gazed out the kitchen window at the yard dusted in a silver frost. It felt like just yesterday that they were all moving into the house on Madison Street, claiming bedrooms, posing for the Ebony magazine feature, hanging tree swings, preparing for confirmations, dressing for sock hop dances, and fitting into graduation caps and gowns.
They had been living in D.C. for nearly eleven years, and Franz, Heinz, Leo, and Monika had all left home, between enlisting in the military and attending college.
Anke was in her final year at Dunbar High School, and the younger three were growing like stalks of bamboo.
At times, Ethel wished she had a time machine to slow it all down.
But the thing that had always been constant in her life was change.
Ethel looked from the window down into the apron sink, where she had been massaging butter into a plump roaster chicken.
After sprinkling the bird with an array of seasonings, she pushed it into the oven.
Ethel set the egg timer and then opened the door to the shed kitchen, where the Speed Queen wringer washer rumbled and gurgled.
Using her poker stick, she turned the clothes round and round.
The water was murky with dirt, and she decided to let the laundry spin for a little while longer.
As she returned the wringer plate, the doorbell rang.
Ethel tsked her teeth. During this time of day—after lunch but before the children got home from school—was when Jehovah’s Witnesses liked to visit.
Despite her telling them that she was a devout Catholic who faithfully attended St. Aloysius Church, they pulled her into long conversations about their good news.
It was either them or a street peddler trying to sell her Christmas lights, or a new set of encyclopedias that they didn’t need.
She touched her fingers to the pins holding back her hair, then removed her bib apron, running her fingers down the front of her housedress to assure that all the buttons were fastened.
“Good afternoon,” Ethel said, peering down at the bushy redheaded teen standing on the steps, a respectful distance from the door. She had a satchel strapped over her shoulders. “Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Gathers?”
Ethel took a step forward, pulling the door close so as not to let out the heat. “Yes.” She hoped the young lady wasn’t here to sell magazine subscriptions. She had more than she could count.
“I’m Sophia Clark.”
Ethel gasped and then drew back. It was the girl who had phoned just that morning, asking if she was one of the Brown Babies. Said something about reading about her in an article and locating Ethel with her last ten cents on a pay phone. What in the world was she doing on her doorstep?
“Young lady, you should not have come to my home unannounced. Barging in on me like this when I specifically suggested that you speak to your parents. Don’t you have any manners?”
Sophia’s bottom lip quivered. “Ma’am, forgive me for being so forward, but I am desperate. When I reached you with my final dime, I took it as a sign that I couldn’t give up. Please. I promise not to take up much of your time.”
Ethel saw tears rise in the young girl’s eyes, and that cracked through her shell.
She had received so many calls over the years, from disgruntled families unhappy with one thing or another, that she couldn’t possibly take them on anymore.
She had given her all and had done everything in her power for the Brown Baby Plan, and she simply could not intervene on every family’s behalf.
But when Ethel saw the teen wrap her arms around herself, it was hard to turn her away now that she was here. “This is not the way I do things,” she said in a voice that sounded flimsy to her own ears.
“I promise you that I don’t mean any harm, ma’am. I just really need to know, and I don’t have anyone else to turn to.”
Ethel hoped she wouldn’t regret this as she took a step back from the door. “Very well. Come on in.”
The vestibule had black-and-white-checkered tile and a wooden coat rack where Bert liked to hang his hat.
When Ethel offered to place Sophia’s quilted coat on the hook, Sophia clutched the jacket to her chest. “It’s okay.
I’ll keep it with me,” she said. The girl had an athletic build and was taller than Ethel by an inch or two.
Her shocking red hair hung just past her shoulders.
“Very well then, follow me.” Ethel led Sophia through the living room and into the small library that doubled as an office at the back of the house.
Ethel flipped on the overhead light. Inside was a rectangular desk with a pile of envelopes and folders that Bert had brought home from work.
Two ladder-back chairs sat in front of the desk, and there was a velvet chaise in the corner where Ethel liked to hide out and read.
She gestured to Sophia to take a seat in one of the chairs.
“I was meticulous with the records for every child. I made two copies of each, giving one to the adopted families and filing one away for moments like this.”
Ethel didn’t know why waves of nerves kept sloshing through her; she hoped she was doing the right thing.
In the past, it had been the adopted parents who had contacted her about this or that.
Sophia was the first child, potentially.
They weren’t even sure at this point if she was one of her Brown Babies.
This could all be one big misunderstanding.
The girl could just have unkind parents; that wasn’t uncommon in rural areas where money was tight.
“You really like to read,” Sophia responded, still clutching her coat as her eyes traveled over the wall of books.
“In order to be a good writer, one must read.”
“Are you a writer?”
“Yes, a journalist.” Ethel paused and looked the girl over. She had kind eyes, and Ethel found herself drawn to know more about her. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Sophia coughed. “I’d like to work in an office, ma’am.”
“An office doing what?”
“Anything that doesn’t put me anywhere near a farm,” Sophia retorted in such a way that Ethel could feel the tiredness down in the young girl’s bones.
“Well, you are going to need to dream a bit bigger than that. You are at West Oak Forest, right?”
“Yes.”
“Such a prestigious school. I read about the integration in the Post. How’s that been for you?”
“Good, I’m learning a lot,” Sophia said while dropping her eyes. Ethel watched how she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt and wondered what deep struggle she was enduring.
“Always remember that education is the one thing no one can take away from you.” Ethel turned, and as she pulled open the file cabinet, she asked, “You said Clark, right? Norma and Frank?”
Sophia nodded. “With my three brothers. Walter, Karl, and Lu.”
“One kid at a time.”
Ethel flipped through the files before sliding a manila folder marked “Clark” from the cabinet. She studied the contents, closed the file, and then walked over to Sophia. “Do you pray, Sophia?”
“Sometimes.”
“Let me pray with you before we go any further.”
Ethel stood in front of the girl, took her cold, dry hands, pulled her to her feet, and prayed the Lord’s Prayer, followed by the Hail Mary.
When she finished, she said, “Now, you should probably sit back down, Sophia Clark. This could be a lot to take in at once.”