Finding Dad

by Kara Sundlun

  “No, but she should be.” Ha!

  Dad beamed while reaching out for my hand and held it as we continued to march. No words were spoken, but I will always remember that this was first time he had held my hand for so long. Despite our sweaty palms, I didn’t want to let go. He made me feel like Daddy’s little girl.

  It wasn’t easy cramming a whole childhood into one summer, and as my father’s and my experiences together wove golden threads in our tapestry, I wanted to make sure it was strong enough so it wouldn’t unravel when I went off to college. We didn’t have a lifetime of memories, but we were trying to make each day memorable.

  My eighteenth birthday would be coming in two weeks, on July 16th, and I wondered if my father would think to make it special, like the 4th of July parade.

  Mom had already started calling his secretary to make sure she put it on the calendar, so my father wouldn’t forget.

  “I wish I could be there with you, honey.”

  “I know, Mom, but we can celebrate when I get home.” I felt the familiar grumble of guilt. I could tell she was sad to miss the big day, and it didn’t seem fair she would not be the one to ring in my adulthood after all she’d done to get me there. Instead, she had just given my father the gift of a fully-grown daughter, and still hadn’t gotten a thank you. I wondered what would happen with future holidays. Would I start to split up Christmas like some of my friends did with their divorced parents? This feeling of being split in half was something I’d never get used to.

  But Mrs. Shuster, who had become so much more than a housekeeper to me, helped me over some of the rough patches. I had grown to love her because she seemed to understand that I was treading in unknown, scary waters, and had gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. But most importantly, she gave me a lot of insight into my father, to whom she was devoted.

  She told me how my father never had a good relationship with his own father, and thought that was why he was so driven to succeed. Apparently, nothing ever seemed good enough for my grandfather, so every time my father won an election, succeeded in business, or achieved something great, it was like saying f%$# you, Walter, who was terribly hard on him as a kid. My father’s younger brother, Wally, was seemingly Walter’s favorite. Tragically, Wally died young of appendicitis, and my father was left to deal with his grief and wonder how he would measure up.

  The grimace would splash across his face when talking about his disapproving, hard-driving father, and he kept it short by simply saying, “He was just not a nice man—but everyone loved my mother.”

  My father always spoke warmly about his mother, Jan, saying, “You couldn’t find a single person who didn’t genuinely like her.”

  Despite his resistance toward his father, there was no denying how much he looked like him. I could see the striking resemblance in pictures and assumed my father’s tough shell was a product of my grandfather’s making. Walter Sundlun was one of the first Jews to run for high office in Rhode Island. He lost his race for senate as a Republican, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my father chose to be a Democrat just to be different from him.

  Mrs. Schuster told me, “You are the best thing that ever happened to him. You make him so happy, and he smiles all the time now. He didn’t use to do that. He may not know how to say it, but I can tell he really loves you.”

  I loved him, too, and her words were the best birthday present I could have asked for. But typical of her sweet nature, she’d insisted on giving me something to open. “It’s not much, but I wanted you to have something from me on your birthday.”

  The gift bag was filled with all kinds of goodies that any girl could use: nail files, gum, hair ties, cuticle cream, and more.

  “I love it!” I said, hugging her hard.

  I’d been watching the clock all day. My father would be home soon, and I was glad for the balloon arrangement crowding the entryway. They’d serve as a tangible reminder for him about my birthday. I knew it had only been a month since we officially reunited, but things had been going so well, and I didn’t want to have to hate him for doing something cold like forgetting the first birthday I would spend with him. Had the fates worked differently, this would have been the day I lost my rights to file suit against him. So much had happened, and I was glad he was now doing things without my having to force it. I wondered if he would get me a gift, or do something to show me his feelings were real.

  We were supposed to go to a black tie event honoring the Navy that night, so I went upstairs to start getting ready so I wouldn’t have to rush when he got home. A bit of panic rose up in my chest when I heard him enter the house. This was our first birthday together, and I didn’t know what to expect.

  I went downstairs in my bathrobe to say hello.

  “Nice flowers,” he said.

  “Thanks, they’re from my mom for my birthday. I’m officially an adult now,” I said grinning.

  “Happy Birthday! But you’re still an infant in my book,” he shot back with a grin.

  “Thanks. I guess I’ll go finish getting ready,” I bit my lip as I scanned his hands and the table, as I passed by. It didn’t appear that he had anything wrapped for me. Maybe it would come later?

  He shouted upstairs to me, “It’s black tie, you know.”

  “I know!” I shouted back downstairs. “I’m wearing a black dress.”

  “Perfect! We leave at 6:30. Sharp!”

  My heart sank as I went back up to my room. Was he too busy to get a gift? Did it even register with him to get me a gift? Come on, Kara, get over it. This whole summer is a gift!

  I came down into the kitchen with my hair slicked back and wearing a black cocktail dress.

  “Va-va-va-voom,” Mrs. Schuster said with a wide grin. “Don’t you look special for your birthday!”

  “Thanks, I feel special, too!”

  My father came down looking handsome in his tux and bow tie. He was definitely not the clip-on kind of guy.

  “That’s a nice costume,” Dad said while looking me over.

  I stifled the urge to laugh. I quickly learned that he never referred to women’s outfits as anything but costumes. This wasn’t Halloween, and I definitely wasn’t going trick or treating! “Thanks,” I said, giving him a small curtsey. “I’m ready to go….and on time!”

  After the trooper dropped us off at the event, we were escorted to the head table. When everyone finished their cocktails and dinner, my father got up to give his speech. It was hard to focus on what he was saying, since I was secretly pouting about my birthday and his lackluster acknowledgement thus far. He finished his remarks and sat down at the table next to me just as the Navy band came out tooting their horns and marching. After a few moments, I realized the tune was “Happy Birthday,” and another group of navy men dressed in white were heading toward me with a cake covered in sparklers.

  “Happy birthday, dear Kara, happy birthday to you,” they sang as they set the cake in front of me. My father beamed, so proud that he had pulled off something special.

  I didn’t know what to say; my soldier father had just commanded the Navy to sing to me. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, and now I could exhale, knowing he hadn’t forgotten.

  I blew out the candles and thanked my father, speaking as loudly as I could over the clapping throughout the room, before giving him a kiss on his forehead. I wanted everyone to see this was real. He kissed me back on my cheek, and I knew it would be a birthday I’d never forget. No, he didn’t buy me an expensive gift, but it meant far more to me that he showed the world he cared. That was far more valuable, and exactly the display of affection I needed to feel like the dream wouldn’t end when I left to go home.

  ~~

  I was feeling more comfortable with my father, but I still had a lot to learn about the world he lived in. His was a world where turning eighteen meant having a debutante ball and “coming out” to Newport society. Meryl Page was my introduction to high society. Meryl and her brother, Blakely, lived in Hoped
ene, the mansion next door. She was a sweet, thin blonde who came across the lawn to introduce herself. “Welcome to the neighborhood. How are you liking everything?”

  My mind raced with everything I’d seen and done so far. “I love it,” I gushed. “What’s not to like? Newport is amazing.”

  Meryl kindly offered to introduce me to her friends in town and invited me to go to what she called her “graduation party,” but I later found out from my father it was her debutante ball, and there would be a big bash at Hopedene, the official name of the mansion next door. Of course, I accepted, but felt unprepared since I had no idea what to expect. For days I worried about what kind of gift I should get my new friend, how much should I spend, and who would pay for it? I didn’t feel comfortable asking my father for money, and I don’t think he thought about asking me if I had a dress or needed anything for the party. I decided to walk down to the small department store, Cherry and Webb, to look for gifts and see if there was something I could just buy on my own.

  I scanned the glass cases for something that would jump out at me and say appropriate. I couldn’t buy her clothes, make-up seemed wrong, and jewelry was too expensive. I decided on an adorable classic teddy bear that she could take with her to college. I wanted to show Meryl how grateful I was for her kindness by giving her something loving in return. I had it wrapped up, and wrote a nice card, wishing her well and thanking her for being my first friend in Newport.

  The night of the party, my father and I walked over to Hopedene together, since he was invited as well. We walked hand-in-hand into the grand marble foyer, and I placed my gift next to some others that were left on a beautiful table. The numerous envelopes probably had money in them, and I worried I’d made a mistake, but it was too late to worry about it. I considered taking my gift back and bringing something later, but decided to just leave it. I wanted to ask my father about all of these things, but I felt embarrassed because I didn’t already know. There were so many unwritten rules in my new world, and my best defense was to watch what everyone else did.

  Walking past the water fountain and onto the terrace that overlooked a beautiful black-bottomed pool, with the Cliff Walk off in the distance, I felt like I’d stepped onto the set of The Great Gatsby. I tried my best to mask it, but I felt like I’d just been dropped into a secret society without the right password. I held my head up, watched my father, and tried to blend in while fervently wishing my new life had come with instructions.

  My father put his arm around me and smiled at Meryl’s mother and stepfather. “Chic, Britty, this is my daughter, Kara.”

  “You have such a beautiful home,” I said while thinking how strange it felt to hear him use the word daughter. But I loved it, and looked forward to getting used to hearing it.

  After a while, everyone was directed indoors to the formal room where the staircase emptied. I looked up and saw Meryl cascading down the stairs in a beautiful white gown—she looked like a real-life princess. The music played and people clapped, murmuring about how wonderful she looked and what a fabulous party this was. I remembered how she had called it a “graduation party.” Bless her heart, I imagine she may have avoided calling it a debutante ball in order to make me feel more comfortable.

  Even though this was Meryl’s big night, I felt many eyes on me as my father led me around the party, introducing me to the people who made up Newport’s social register. In a way, it felt like a coming out party for me, too. Every time he said “my daughter” he was validating my lineage in a place where bloodlines were everything. He could have kept me hidden, but instead, he was showing me off, and I knew he was proud of me. It dawned on me that I no longer needed a fairy godmother to go to the ball, and his invitation to be my father was not going to expire. But it all still felt like a dream.

  Dayna would be the one to help me make it all feel real. My father told me I was welcome to invite a friend to come out and visit, and I was thrilled she agreed to come. I wanted someone from my old life to witness what was happening in my new world—someone to share all the excitement with and make it real. Dayna had been there to help me write my first letter to my father, and I needed her to be the bridge between my two lives.

  I picked her up at the airport, and we giggled all the way back to my new house. I couldn’t wait to show her all of my new favorite things, like walking on the Cliff Walk behind the famous mansions; eating lobster on Bannister’s Wharf at the historic Clarke Cooke House restaurant; and basking in the sun at Bailey’s Beach, the exclusive club my father belonged to, where we lazed on cushy lounge chairs in his oceanfront cabana sipping a mint freeze—a perfect blend of frozen lemonade with fresh mint.

  “Wow, this is amazing,” Dayna said as we pulled in to Seaward. “This is just so cool!”

  “I know! Come on, I’ll show you my room!”

  We ran up the stairs to put her things away and freshen up before my father came home.

  “So, he’s kind of intimidating,” I said, warning her, “but he’s really a softy at heart, so just be yourself. Oh and…uh…don’t chew gum around him—he hates it and says it’s ‘very un-lady like.’ ”

  I wanted two of the most important people in my life to like each other as much as I loved them. What an odd feeling to know that my worlds were about to merge.

  When he came home that night, he extended his hand to her. “Hi, Bruce Sundlun.”—giving his standard greeting.

  “Hi, I’m Dayna,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  “Wow, is everyone who grows up in Michigan short?” he said, laughing as he looked back and forth at us. It was hard for him to believe anyone was actually shorter than I was, but Dayna managed it.

  “Very funny,” I said sarcastically.

  He looked at the shorts and t-shirts we were wearing, and made a suggestion: “Get dressed, you two, and I’ll take you both out to dinner.” After we ran upstairs and put on some dresses—our more appropriate “costumes”—my father took us to the Clambake Club, a private dinner club where Newport society dined on lobsters and other fresh seafood laid out on mirrors. Dayna stared at me, squeezing my hand, “Really, Kara?” she whispered, “This is your new life?”

  The maître d’ greeted us warmly. “Welcome, Governor.”

  “Thank you. I’d like you to meet my daughter and her friend from Michigan, Dayna Horton, who is visiting Newport for the first time. They’ll both be attending the University of Michigan in the fall.”

  It felt utterly delicious to have Dayna witness him calling me his daughter out loud. I whispered to her that here in Newport, they always used first and last names with an introduction. To this day, Dayna and I still reflect on what an amazing summer we had together, and how much she fell in love with my father, how he loved her, too, nicknaming her Muscles, since she was so fit.

  My father brought us both to work, and we would both take notes in the back of an economics conference preparing for the quiz he would give us later. She thought he was so fun to be around, and we could tell my father loved showing off two young girls to his friends. Dayna’s visit allowed me to stop pinching myself because she was my witness that this magical summer wasn’t a dream.

  If having the time of my life vacationing with Dayna in a summer wonderland wasn’t enough, I got offered my dream job at WPRI, then the ABC station in Providence. News Director Russ Kilgore wanted to give me a huge break to become an on-air youth reporter.

  Now, I wasn’t so naïve to think there wasn’t a motive for their madness. My story had died down, and I was just getting used to life without a camera in my face, but the station thought putting me back on TV would be good for ratings. Their reasons didn’t matter to me; I really wanted to work in television and this was my big shot. They had called Henry and asked him to broker a deal, but he said I would have to ask my father. I worried he’d say no. We had signed a gag order agreeing to stay out of the press unless it was something we both agreed to, and I couldn’t see how this would benefit him. His advisors would no doubt thi
nk this was just going to shine the light back on the scandal they wanted to go away.

  I knew I had to get up the guts to ask because, even at a young age, I was driven to establish my broadcasting career, and an on-air job—with pay, no less!—for someone with no experience was unheard of. As I dialed the State House, I crossed my fingers my father would let me do it.

  “Okay, don’t say no right away because I really, really want this.” I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Channel 12 wants me to be an on air reporter. Can I do it, please, please, please?

  Long pause.

  “Kara, I don’t know about this. Let me make some calls, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Uh-oh. I began crossing everything on my body.

  I would later learn my father called up the NBC station Channel 10, the one he used to run, hoping they would make me an offer, instead. He felt safer having me work there since, at the time, Channel 12 tended to lean toward the sensational. However, the more conservative station was not interested, so now my father had to make a tough decision.

  Would he say no to protect himself and keep me out of the spotlight, or help me take a big step in my dream of becoming a reporter? I’m so happy he thought like a father instead of a Governor, and let me do it.

  Henry negotiated the deal—they would pay me $1,000 for a three-part series and agree not to refer to me as the Governor’s daughter. I would be announced only as their youth reporter, Kara Hewes.

  Woo hoo! I couldn’t wait to get to work!

  I hugged my father when he came home, jumping up and down. “Thank you so much! I’m so excited!”

  “Just remember to work hard. People will be watching everything you do because you’re my daughter.”

  He was right, I could feel the eyes on me in the newsroom. The newspaper reported it wasn’t fair that I got a job in such a competitive industry with no experience.