Chapter 45
SOPHIA
The photograph felt like cardboard between her fingertips. Even though the photo was in black and white, she could tell the hair that fell over her forehead was red in color. She traced her finger across her lips.
“This is me.” Sophia was shaking all over. “I found me,” she whispered, clutching the picture against her heart.
Mrs. Gathers reached over to pick up the files, and as she studied the papers, she rested her hand under her chin.
“Katja Durchdenwald,” Mrs. Gathers mumbled. “Yes, this makes sense. Now I remember the little girl with the red hair.”
“Katja?” Sophia said, breathless. “Is… that my real name?”
Mrs. Gathers nodded. “I believe so.” Then she flipped over one of the forms in the file and blurted, “Yes, I recall meeting your mother.”
Sophia couldn’t get enough air in her lungs when she sputtered, “My mother?”
The woman who sat across from her had met her mother. Even though this was what Sophia had searched for, it still felt surreal. Was it really happening?
“Tell me about her,” Sophia pleaded. “What was she like? Why did she give me away?”
Mrs. Gathers sighed, then looked up at the clock. “You’ve experienced a lot today, dear. Maybe it’s best that we stop here. I have already trodden on your parents’ toes, and my own children will be arriving from school any minute.”
“Please, Mrs. Gathers.” Sophia could hear the panic in her voice. “Just tell me what you remember. We’ve come this far. Just a few more minutes, please.”
“Let me take the chicken out of the oven.” Mrs. Gathers rose to her feet and then disappeared out the door.
Sophia picked up the file again. Her mother. She had found her mother. How long would it be before she could meet her in person? Was she still in Germany? How in heaven’s name would she get to Germany to reunite with her?
Mrs. Gathers brought the scent of rosemary and thyme back with her as she crossed the room and sat behind the desk. “Where was I?”
“You said you met my mother.”
“Well, I know she hadn’t wanted to give you up for adoption, which was the case for many of the German women, but she didn’t feel that she had a choice.” Mrs. Gathers clasped her hands in front of her.
“What do you mean?”
“Her… family situation was unstable. She took you to St. Hildegard’s orphanage because she knew that it was a place where you’d be safe.”
Sophia felt the pressure that had been like a weight in her belly lift a bit.
She had been right all along in knowing that she did not belong to the Clarks.
They had brought her to this country more as a servant than as a child to love.
She had known something wasn’t right. But what of her brothers?
Were they brought here too? Were they even related?
But before she could ask questions about her brothers, Mrs. Gathers interrupted her.
“Dear, I really must let you go.”
“But—”
“I realize that I made a grave mistake with the mix-up in your identity, and for that I am truly sorry. But you should talk to the Clarks. I’ve already said too much.”
Sophia continued as if she hadn’t heard Mrs. Gathers. “And my father?”
“I just know that he was an American. Negro.”
Her father. Sophia let the thought of him settle over her and felt a pang in her belly for him too. “Did either of them visit me in the orphanage?”
Mrs. Gathers stood but then stopped in front of the office door. “Most of the mothers did as often as they could. I must stress that many of the women didn’t give up their children because they wanted to. It was a different time back then, and they simply had no other choice.”
As Sophia followed Mrs. Gathers out, the smell of the roast chicken made her mouth water. How much time had passed since Unc had served her the eggs? When they reached the foyer, Sophia stopped at the door and turned. “Mrs. Gathers, will you help me find her? My mother, I mean?”
“Oh, dear, I have given you everything that I have. I’m afraid the official records are sealed.”
“What does that mean?”
Mrs. Gathers placed her hand over her heart. “It means that the reports have been filed away by the German government, and there is no way to access them.”
“But you said you knew my mother.” Sophia could hear her voice raising with panic.
“I did…” Mrs. Gathers stammered. “But I can’t…”
“Please. I need to know who I am. Can you imagine going through life without knowing your true identity?”
“It’s quite expensive to call Germany.”
“Maybe you could at least write a letter to the orphanage on my behalf? Please, I’ve come this far.”
Mrs. Gathers slowly nodded. “Let me see what I can do to make this right.” She reached out her arms to Sophia, and Sophia fell against her breasts. The sobbing was instant, and as she wept, Sophia could feel Mrs. Gathers tracing comforting circles on her back.
Sophia stepped onto the bus and paid her twenty-cent fare.
On the ten-minute walk from the bus stop to the rooming house on A Street, her pinkie toe had rubbed against the leather of her shoe until it blistered.
At the corner of the block, Sophia searched for Unc’s Chevy Impala, and when she didn’t see it, she let herself into the house.
A baby wailed from a room on the second floor, and she could hear the bang of pots and pans and heavy footsteps overhead as she walked through to the kitchen.
The canister that read “Flour” was where she had left it, and she reached for it, moved around the buttons and safety pins, and buried the house key.
In the living room, she collapsed onto the brown burlap sofa, her mind reeling with all the things she had garnered from Mrs. Gathers, and from the pieces she could only speculate about for now.
What was she supposed to do with all that she had learned? Unc was going to take her back to the farm in the morning, and there was the perpetual worry that Ma Deary would forbid her to return to school. So many thoughts spun in her head that she felt like her ears were ringing.
Sophia pulled her coat over her for a blanket, rested her head on the scratchy throw pillow, and fell asleep to the thought of getting on an airplane for the first time and flying to Germany to meet her mother.
She had hoped a picture of her real mother’s face would come to her in her dreams, but she saw only legs and the flames from the fire, felt heat shooting up her thighs and her skin splitting.
Her voice thundered in her ears. She was screaming.
A heavy hand slapped her across the face, and when she opened her eyes, she blinked them several times, hoping that she was still dreaming.
“Still carrying on like you ain’t got good sense.”
Ma Deary leaned over Sophia in her white uniform, smashing her big breasts into Sophia’s face. She smelled of disinfectant, cigarette smoke, and sweat. “Come on here, so we can get home before first light. Cows ain’t goin’ to milk themselves.”
Sophia pressed her hand against her throbbing cheek. Then she remembered where she was and what she had discovered last night.
“Rusty, I ain’t got all day. I worked a double shift, and my dogs are tired. Now, ’less you want to walk your ass back to the farm, you better come on.” Ma slung her pleated hobo purse over her shoulder and turned toward the hallway, and her footsteps reverberated out the front door.
Sophia found her Mary Janes, then picked up her train case and huffed after Ma Deary.
It was dark out, and a frigid chill blew through her as she teetered behind Ma Deary.
The red Rambler was parked three houses down at the curb.
When Sophia slid into the front seat, the car was still warm, and the beige interior smelled like Ma Deary’s lily-of-the-valley perfume, reminding Sophia of home.
“How’d you know I was here?”
Ma Deary flipped open a box of Lucky Strikes and slipped a cigarette between her faded purple lips.
“How you think?” She flicked her red Winston lighter, closed her eyes, and pulled until the tip of the cigarette was bright orange.
“Wayon called me on my job, and you know I don’t like that shit.
Talking about how you just showed up at the house. ”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
Ma Deary released the brake, pulled on the clutch, and steered the Rambler away from the curb. “Why ain’t you up at that fancy school? You done run away from there too?” She blew smoke out the side of her mouth.
Sophia waved fumes from in front of her face. “That’s not it.”
“I knew it.” Ma Deary switched the clutch from third to fourth gear. “Got all the way up there and realized that your raggedy ass didn’t belong, just like I said.”
“School is closed for the holiday.” Sophia bit her bottom lip.
She had belonged enough. Hadn’t she? A cola bottle rolled around on the floor in the seat behind her, and she closed her eyes to the memory.
Looks like someone is stripped down so that everyone can see what a fine field nigger she’d make… How much would you pay for her?
Sophia did not want to think about Patty violating her in the locker room or feel the emptiness that had stretched inside her since leaving Mrs. Gathers’s home.
She had no clue what to do next. Sophia had thought Unc would drive her back to the farm, giving her time to think of what her next move would be.
She wanted to confront Ma Deary, demand more information out of her, but each time she stole glances out of the side of her eye, Ma Deary’s scowl stopped her in her tracks.
Sophia knew from experience that Ma Deary’s anger was not to be stoked.
Last summer, when Sophia had refused to go up to the garden to pick the vegetables because the news had declared that everyone should stay inside due to the extreme heat wave, Ma Deary had replied, “You worried about the heat? You should be worried about me.”