Chapter 25
M amie marveled over Dalia’s baby photos.
“Look at this one! My oh my, you had the most beautiful, big eyes. ‘Baby-blue’ sure did apply to you. Still does.” She grinned from ear to ear.
“And this one. There’s that little birthmark on your shoulder that faded away by the time you were five.
” She ran a light finger over the photo. “You know what occurs to me, boo?”
“What Mama?”
They sat at the kitchen table, afternoon sun streaming in the window as if acknowledging the preciousness of the stash of photos. Dalia’s heart soared with pleasure at how happy this simple offering made her mother.
“Butch would have loved these. You know, that day so long ago when he went over there and asked for your birth certificate, she could have given him at least a couple of these. Why, there are a couple dozen of them here. She was such an enigma, wasn’t she?
All these pictures – she must have been happy to have a baby. ”
“That’s what I thought. At least at first. I wonder if she started losing interest when she realized how much work it would be to care for a child. To care for me.”
“I suppose that happens to some new parents. The yippy-skippy dream and unrealistic expectations are squelched by reality.”
“She always drank and smoked, at least from what I remember. She may have got me in a drunken fantasy that she’d have someone to love. I mean, she was so unlovable I doubt she ever had anyone.”
Mamie considered the possibility, taking a moment to look out the window. “That makes sense, honey. And it brings us to the question of how she got you. We still don’t know.”
Dalia had already decided not to tell her mother about the note she’d found.
It might lead to nothing. She was treading lightly around the topic of how she’d been acquired by Agnes lest she find out something she and her mother didn’t want to know.
It would break Mamie’s heart to think that as an infant her daughter had been sold like a piece of property in a private adoption.
There was no reason to worry her at this point.
Dalia would tell her if that was discovered to be true.
And Dalia had to admit to herself, she didn’t know how she would take that news, either.
If that was the case, there was a woman out there who was her real biological mother.
It could become very messy and, although she knew she’d have her mama’s support no matter what, it would throw their family dynamics into a tailspin.
Dalia was happy with her life as it was and wasn’t certain she wanted to throw a wrench into the works.
Even if she found out she’d been sold and even if she learned the name of the woman who gave her birth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to contact that person.
Sometimes it was best to leave well enough alone. She’d go so far as to see what she could find out in Amberton the next day, but that might be the end of it. Time would tell.
“Do you mind if I put this one in a frame and keep it in my room?” Mamie picked out a photo and held it up. Dalia’s baby face smiled, displaying an adorable dimple in her cheek and tufted, blond, baby-bird hair.
“Of course I don’t mind. You keep them. You can put them in your safety box.”
“Whatcha doin’?” Rose ran into the room, pulled out a chair, and climbed up onto her knees to lean over the table. “Oh, pictures.”
“These, my love, are pictures of your mama when she was a baby. Wasn’t she cute?” Mamie spread out the photos for Rose to see.
“That’s you?” Rose looked at her mom, eyes wide with wonder. She tucked her arms in under her chest to lean in further, knowing she shouldn’t touch the delicate photos.
Dalia chuckled. “Yup. That’s me.”
Rose pointed at one, then pointed at her mom, and pointed at her grandmother. “Grammy, how come your skin and Mommy’s skin are different colors?”
Mamie and Dalia exchanged a knowing glance. This day was bound to come. They’d discussed how to handle it.
“Well, sweetie,” Dalia said, “I am adopted. Grammy and Grampa adopted me when I was a little girl, even younger than you are right now. Do you know what it means to be adopted?”
Rose searched the ceiling for an answer. “Oh yeah. Tommy at kindergar’en was ‘dopted. But his skin is the same color.”
She hadn’t been clear, as often happened with five-year-olds, but the adults got the gist. Tommy and his parents had the same color skin.
“The color of someone’s skin doesn’t matter, darling,” Mamie said. “What matters is that people love each other.” Mamie knew that wasn’t a full answer to the question about why people had different skin colors but hoped it would suffice for now.
“Oh. We love each other.” Rose nodded adamantly.
“Yes, we do.” Mamie patted her back.
“I wish I had me some skin that color.” Rose pointed at her grandmother. “It’s so pretty!” She jumped down and ran out of the room as if she had an appointment somewhere. Rover, of course, galloped after her.
Mamie chuckled. “Well! This certainly has made my day.” She gathered the photos and tucked them away behind a canister on a shelf.
Mother and daughter put on their aprons and happily got busy doing some baking together. Dalia was elated not to have to go to work in the city, her mood ebullient and jovial. She’d taken a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from when she’d attacked the trailer.
They turned on the radio to soft music and lost themselves in their wonder world of creating pleasurable sustenance for others.
“This is such a sweet life, Mama.” Dalia stirred eggs into the well in a mound of flour in preparation for homemade noodles. “I can’t wait to share it with all of Farmdale with our bakery.”
Mamie gave the bread dough she kneaded a playful punch. “Me, too. Boo, I figure I’m just about the happiest woman on earth. Life is good!”
Yes, Dalia thought. It’s more than good . And I have no intention of bursting my mama’s long-awaited and much-deserved bubble of joy by telling her what I’m about to do.