Page 14 of Home Body
“Wait a second, honey.” Llayne spoke kindly to Rose. “Maybe you should go in and ask your grandma if it’s okay if we visit. She wasn’t expecting us and might be busy.”
Rose squinted like maybe the grownup was nuts, then ran inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her and Rover.
Mamie quickly showed up behind the screen, wiping her hands on her flowery apron, with Rose and Rover in tow. “Why look who’s here!” The three of them stepped out onto the porch and Mamie clapped merrily. “My oh my, aren’t you gorgeous in that wedding dress!”
Kenyon spun around. “I knew you’d like it.”
“Like it? I love it!”
Mamie held out her arms and Kenyon bounced up the steps for a quick hug, after which Mamie stepped back to get another gander. “Uh, uh, uh, you are a vision.”
“Shoot. I didn’t think to put the veil back on.” Kenyon palmed her hair, which had half fallen out of the upswept do Dalia had given it. “You’d love that, too.”
“I’m sure I would and I’m sure you were the most beautiful almost-bride ever.” Mamie turned her attention to Llayne. “Hello there. You’re Kenyon’s mother. I know you from the news on TV, of course. I’m so pleased to meet you. Come on in.” She motioned for Llayne to come up the porch steps. “I just took some lemon-blueberry-poppyseed muffins out of the oven. Let’s sit down and have a bite.” She held the door open for everyone.
As soon as Kenyan stepped inside the charming farmhouse, she felt at ease. Her mom, she noticed, became alert, seemingly fascinated by everything she saw and sensed. The smell of baked muffins filled the house. The large living room they’d entered looked like a blast from the past with a vintage hardwood floor, a well-worn rug, a cushy couch, and two fat side chairs. A green-cushioned rocking chair sat in front of a fireplace that had green marble tiles, no doubt set a hundred years earlier. The boxy TV sat on an antique oak chest. Three long windows looked out front taking in the colorful flower beds, the tall maple trees, and the long dirt driveway.
Mamie led them into the kitchen and invited everyone to sit at the table. In no time, muffins on fancy plates and coffee in flowery cups on saucers from the Victorian-era and milk in a small glass for Rose, circled the table. Never mind the visitors had chowed down on wedding reception food and wedding cake only a few hours earlier. This was too good to resist. They chit-chatted as they ate, with Kenyon and Llayne both thanking Mamie repeatedly for taking care of Kenyon as she had. Mamie sloughed them off, insisting it was no big deal.
Both mothers still thought their daughters had met in a fancy restaurant in Detroit where Dalia supposedly waitressed.Kenyon had given her word to keep that secret, and she would never go back on her word.
Mamie broke off a bite off her muffin and popped it into her mouth. “Um, these are good, even if I say so myself.”
“I agree. You’re an incredible baker.” Llayne had to swallow fast to talk without her mouth full. “I see you’ve got lots of baked goods over there.” She pointed at the hutch.
“Yeah. I love baking and have been able to turn it into a nice little business. People pick up their orders here and I have a kiosk at the farmer’s market, too.
“You need to open a bakery,” Kenyon suggested as she reached for a second muffin off the plate in the middle of the table piled high with them.
“I confess, that’s always been my dream. But I feel blessed to have what I have here. Especially with my daughter and granddaughter right here with me.” Mamie pointed at Rose and winked. The little girl attempted to wink back, her entire face scrunching up and her glasses going wonky in the process. She straightened her glasses and smiled, showing off the gap where her front tooth had been.
“Rose, dear,” Mamie said, “if you’ve had enough to eat it might be a good time to take Rover out to check on his sheep.” The dog, who’d been lying at his girl’s side, popped up, ears alert, and barked at the mention of his name and “sheep.”
“’kay, Grammy.” Rose slid out of her chair like a slinky and ran outside with her best friend.
“She’s such a great little girl,” Llayne observed as she craned her neck to watch Rose and Rover out the window.
“That she is. Like her mother was.”
“Mamie, this morning you said Dalia came into your life when she was four but she isn’t legally adopted.” Kenyon knew she ventured into delicate territory, but she itched to know. “It made me curious. Do you mind telling us how that came to be?I mean, I’m adopted, too, and always wonder about it for other people.”
“Honey,” Llayne said, “that’s quite personal, don’t you think?”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Mamie insisted, shoving her empty plate aside and resting her forearms on the table. “It’s a truly amazing story. Eighteen years ago my husband Butch and I were working the flowerbeds out front one morning when we saw this barefoot little waif wandering toward us down our driveway.” She pointed in the direction of the dirt lane out front. “Butch saw her first and said, ‘Oh my word, it’s a lost child.’ We ran to her and were stunned at how dirty and unhealthy she was. Like she’d almost never been fed or bathed. She held out a pitiful, dirty, plastic cup…” Mamie gestured to illustrate “… and said, ‘Do you have any milk?’ She didn’t say ‘please.’ We had to teach her common manners later. Well, you can just imagine. We brought her straight into the house and I washed her face and hands and fed her more food than I think she’d ever seen. I made sure she had a big glass of milk, too. Butch called the sheriff to report that a lost child had been found.”
“How awful for her,” Llayne gasped. “I’ve reported on a lot of sad stories about child neglect and abuse and kids who wander off. Thank goodness she found her way to you.”
Mamie sipped her coffee, gathering her thoughts. Her face brightened in memory. “Yes, Butch and I felt like Jesus had taken that little girl’s hand and guided her right over here to us. We’d always prayed for a child, but it never came to pass. Not until that day. She told me her name was Dalia. I carefully asked her questions to try to figure out what was going on and pieced together that she’d come to us because we had cows back then. She could see from the trailer park where she lived with her mother. That’s gone now but it wasn’t too far down the road on the other side. On TV Dalia had seen that milk came from cows.She was a smart one, even at that age. And brave, not one bit afraid of approaching strangers to ask for what she needed.”
“What about her mother? Where was she in all this?” Llayne, morphing straight into momma bear mode, was ready to duke it out with the wayward parent from so long ago.
“Oh, she was in her trailer, drunk and unaware that her daughter was gone. We figured that out later after the sheriff told Butch on the phone that no child had been reported missing. Butch told him never mind. Well, little Dalia didn’t seem inclined to want to leave and we weren’t inclined to want her to leave. That part is a story too long for one sitting but before long Dalia lived with us permanently and her mother didn’t even care. Butch and I were in bliss.” She nodded emphatically. “Never you mind that she was white living with two black surrogate parents. We all loved each other and that was all that mattered.” She drained her coffee cup. “Butch died three years ago and our girl grieved just like I did. They loved each other as if she’d been born right into his arms.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Llayne said.
A moment of silence followed as it usually did when those words were offered.
“Mom’s right.” Kenyon broke the spell. “Dalia was so lucky to have found you. It could’ve been anybody, somebody who didn’t care at all. I feel blessed to have the parents I have. I was born in Vietnam and it’s entirely possible I could still be there. It was a lucky twist of fate that landed me in America.”
