CALL MAMA

by Terry H. Watson

  In spite of her young age, Lucy had sensed fear.

  “Who are you afraid of?”

  “Hush, child!” scolded her minder, mad at herself for showing her emotion.

  “No more questions.”

  The exhausted man returned to the cabin, his ordeal over. Taking his wife aside out of earshot of Lucy, he related the latest instructions from Boss.

  “The forecast seems to predict an improvement soon. We have to stay here some days more and return to base, taking as many days as it took to get here.”

  “What an ordeal for the child,” said Zelda. “If we feel strained, how much worse is it for her? She’s such a sweet child, I feel so bad about all this.”

  “We have no option, dragi, we have to see it through and soon we shall be free.”

  “Will we ever be truly free?” sighed Zelda.

  ***

  Lucy woke early to the winter sun shining through the little window of her room; the snow had stopped, there was a definite thaw. Water plopped from the roof, making rhythmic sounds as it fell to the gravel path beneath her window. The view took her breath away, the sun sending sparkles of light on to Flathead Lake, causing her to reflect on the beauty of the place. This is so amazing, she thought.

  She felt a peace she had not experienced since her captivity touching her heart as she studied the scene before her.

  Zelda and Kristof were still asleep in an adjoining room. Zelda had told her to have some cookies should she feel hungry. She made her way quietly to the kitchen, stopping to admire the changing vista from different windows in the snug cabin. Glorious scenery! she thought as she sat munching on a cookie, pondering on who owned such a winsome property and why she was there. She sighed and made to return to her room when she spotted Kristof’s mobile phone. In a nanosecond, she grasped it. I’m going to call Mama. She had overheard Kristof mention that the signal was unreliable due to the storm, but took her chance on there being some reception now that the weather was calmer. In her excitement Lucy punched in the only number she could remember. It was a private number that took her directly to her mother’s phone and was elated to hear it ring and be picked up immediately.

  “Mother!” she cried. “Mother, get me home. Why are you doing this to me?”

  Zelda gently removed the phone from the trembling girl’s hand and switched it off, saying, “Not yet, honey, not yet.”

  Lucy ran to her room, threw her quaking body onto the bed and wept sorely. She was so distraught she did not hear the couple’s raised voices as Zelda berated her husband for his carelessness.

  “We can’t afford to make mistakes like that. Keep your phone with you at all times.”

  ***

  Brenda, ecstatic at hearing her daughter’s voice, ran through the house shouting for Molly.

  “Lucy called me! She called me!”

  Molly hugged the shocked woman, listened to her garbled version of the brief call and cried with her friend.

  “We know she’s alive then, but where is she?”

  “We were cut off, it was a bad signal.”

  “Get hold of Detective Harvey, tell him what’s happened.”

  Brenda sobbed. “It was strange, Molly, she asked me why I was doing this to her. What does she mean? Call Myra at the office, give her the news.”

  Brenda threw herself into Molly’s arms; it was as if the stresses of the past weeks had restored Brenda’s sense of decency.

  Attempts to contact the detective proved difficult; no one seemed to know where the guy was. His mobile phone went unanswered, as did that of his teammate Carr. The two detectives were attending a court hearing regarding the recent events in Washington and were unable to be contacted.

  “Where are these people when we need them?” cried Brenda in frustration.

  Nora, alerted by the screams, joined her mother and Brenda.

  The junior officer on desk duty was unsure how he should proceed when all attempts to contact his immediate superior failed. He felt the matter required urgent action and made the decision to call further up the chain to Superintendent Benson. I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, he thought as he punched in the direct number taking him straight to Superintendent Benson.

  “It’s concerning the missing Mears girl, sir.”

  ***

  Superintendent Benson presented himself at Brenda’s home and apologized for Harvey’s and Carr’s absence, stating they were out of town on essential departmental business. He declined to state the specific nature of their duty, thinking perhaps Brenda had more than enough to cope with. He brought a technician with him to examine the phone.

  “Wilson here will attempt to retrieve the last number.”

  As they waited for a result, the officer’s fingers worked expertly across the keys. Benson gently obtained from the tearful mother details of her daughter’s call.

  “It was so brief. It lasted seconds before I heard a click as if someone had switched it off.”

  Wilson shook his head. “Sorry, sir, the number can’t be retrieved; the call wasn’t long enough for me to trace. I would need to take it to the lab to test it further.”

  “I can’t be without it, that’s my private number that Lucy might call back on,” lamented Brenda.

  “Ok, we’ll bring some more equipment here and attempt to find the data. At least we know she’s alive. Hold on to that,” said Benson as he left to return to base to contact Harvey.

  Dejection filled the household; the moment of elation had passed.

  Chapter 29

  Lucy continued to sob and stare out of the window of the little room in the cabin, deep in private thought.

  How did it get to this? Why couldn’t my mother be more like Gina? I love sleepovers with Abigail. Gina’s a cool mom. She’s lively, funny and so loving. Her eyes light up with laughter, like sparkles. She’s so pretty! Her flawless skin and her hair glow like the sun dancing across them, just like Abigail’s. Gina, Abbie, I miss you!

  Lucy wiped her tears and continued her monologue and reminiscing.

  Gina, I would say, “I love your floral arrangements, you are so creative!”

  “Thanks, Lucy, that’s sweet, but you know, you’re just as creative, if not more so, but in a different way. Your music is so special, honey, you have talent. We’ll see you in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra someday, of that I’m sure!”

  “That’s my aim, Gina, to join CSO as the best cellist ever and travel the world with them. Ken says I can take my dream to the ends of the earth.”

  “He’s darn right, honey. Aim high.”

  “But my mother… Gina, you know her. You know how she is. She wants me to study business management and follow her into Mears Empire. She thinks my music is a hobby… how can she not see I’m passionate about music and it’s not part time? It is my life. I’d hate to be in business, I loathe the idea.”

  Lucy continued with her dreams as the snow gently tapped the little window of her cosy room, as if trying to soothe her spirit.

  “Lucy,” my mother would say. “Your great-grandfather started this business from nothing, built it on hard work, taught his son everything he needed to know to expand the firm and take it from strength to strength. He in turn passed his passion on to me, and look where we are: one of the top publishing businesses in Chicago, well respected and trusted. You have to carry on the family firm. It will be handed to you on a plate. Once you have graduated from Chicago Business School, then post grad at Cornell, you will have a place on the board and I’ll teach you everything you need to know to take over from me someday.”

  “Mother!” I would reply. “I don’t want that! You know I want to study music at North Western.”

  “Lucy, we will discuss this later. I have a meeting with the auditors in an hour.”

  That was as far as I ever got, trying to discuss my life with her. She was always busy, forever running to meetings, here and there, always on her phone. No wonder I turn to Mama, dear Molly. I’ve called her mama for
as long as I can remember. I grew up thinking Molly was my mama and Nora, my elder sister. Mama nurtured me, was always there, and told me stories at bedtime.

  I loved those tales of her beloved Ireland and the songs she sang. The less I saw of my mother, the more I saw of Molly and Nora… Oh, why am I in this place with these people?

  Lucy, now lost in thoughts of home, continued to ponder.

  Dear Molly, Mama, so tall and straight, facing the world with a frankness that challenged anyone to defy her right to be the person she was. She was well built and when she chuckled, as she often did, her whole body shook.

  “Do you miss Ireland, Mama?” I would say to her.

  “Oh, mavourneen,” she told me “It’s a distant memory now. I left Donegal when I was a seven year old, never returned, although I always had a mind to. My folks came over here to make a better life for themselves.”

  “Would you ever go back and visit?”

  “Not much point. I’ve no relatives there now apart from a distant cousin who’s in assisted living in Dublin. I never met her, only heard of her through my mammy’s talk of her side of the family. No, honey, my memories of the old country come from stories and songs that I learned from my folks.”

  As always, spending time in Mama’s company calmed my mood. Mama hugged me as she asked,

  “So, sweetie, what’s caused the latest upset with your mother?”

  “The usual, Mama. She won’t listen when I want to discuss my future; she thinks my music is only a hobby. I’ll soon have to decide on serious study subjects… she won’t see past me going to CBS. I’m not going there, I’m definitely not! I would hate to be in business school.”

  Molly pursed her lips in anger, a trait I’d come to recognize over the years when she wanted to speak her mind, but loyalty forbade it.

  “She’ll come up with some nightmare plan for me, I know she will! She always gets her own way.”

  Molly sighed. She knew well how my mother’s mind worked. From an early age, she had reared her. She told me my mother showed an independent spirit, a stubbornness, which helped her become a successful businessperson, but at what cost?

  Lucy’s memories came flooding back as she tried to make sense of her situation.

  “Mama,” I remember saying. “I’m growing up. You’d think she’d realize I have a future, one I want for myself.”

  “Sure, and don’t I know it! Sixteen next birthday! Where has time gone? Seems no time at all since I came here with Nora and took charge of your mother, such a sweet babe… and then, you yourself, reared you like my own…”

  Molly’s voice trailed off as she lost herself in memories.

  Catching her mood, I should have let things go, but stubbornness seems to be a trait in my family and I blurted out, “Mama, do you know who my father is?”

  I’d never raised this subject with her before. I had interrupted her reverie. Molly, visibly shaken by the unexpected question, drew a deep intake of breath, turned away and sternly told me never to ask that question of her.

  “So you do know, don’t you? Please tell me. I have a right to know, haven’t I? Who is he?”

  “Yes, sweetie, you do have that right, but it’s not for me to tell… you have to ask your mother.”

  “And you think she’ll tell me?”

  I almost roared in frustration. That was the first time I had ever shouted at dear mama. I took off to my music room where I found solace. Music soothed my soul.

  Chapter 30

  Molly, visibly upset at Lucy’s question, threw herself into her baking, attacking the dough as if to release tension within her. Her body shook with anger, not at Lucy, but with the unfeeling Brenda. Her thoughts wandered to one occasion when she attempted to interfere in a mother/daughter dispute, only to be put down firmly by her boss.

  “I’m her mother, Molly. I will make that decision.”

  Molly reddened as she recalled the rebuke. That moment was the turning point in her relationship when she relinquished any emotional responsibility and became simply an employee.

  Suppose it had to come someday.

  Molly well remembered the day she took up residence with the Mears and met baby Brenda for the first time.

  Such a cutie, I thought, as Simon Mears placed the wriggling infant in my arms. We bonded quickly; Nora adored her kid “sister”. As Simon’s business expanded, he left more and more of the care to me, but he did make a point of being home for bedtime, but these visits became fewer and fewer and I found myself in total care of the child. Ours was a close relationship, which changed when she completed her post-grad degree and took her place with her father on the board of Mears Empire.

  She had always confided in me about her various boyfriends; I consoled her when they parted, rejoiced when they filled her life with laughter and picked up the pieces when disaster struck. And it did.

  Brenda became pregnant by the young politician she had been dating for many months, but the relationship wasn’t to last.

  I never saw her as mad as she was when he ended the relationship. Her poor father was at a loss to console her, but his headstrong daughter needed no consoling. Her anger was fierce. She made us swear never to reveal his name to anyone. I have never let his name pass my lips and here was her child, almost an adult, craving the information withheld from her.

  “I’ll tell my child about him when I know the time is right,” Brenda had told us all.

  Brenda never really bonded with her daughter. Any attempts by me urging her to spend more time with Lucy were ignored.

  “She’ll grow up so quickly,” I would say to her. “The baby years will be gone before you know it.”

  The only response was a cursory glance at her child and a polite enquiry as to her development.

  “Let me know if she requires anything.”

  Young Lucy wanted for nothing; she had all the material comforts available. Brenda spent lavishly on her child who was too young to be affected by her mother’s lack of interest. I don’t doubt she loves her daughter, but the lack of warmth!.

  Lucy called me “mama”, the name she still uses to this day. It was the first word she spoke. Her mother dutifully attended school events and was fawned over by staff, who felt privileged to have the daughter of a prominent member of the community attend their school. They never failed to mention Lucy’s musical talent. Brenda once told on her return from such a meeting;

  “Lucy has a bright future ahead of her in the musical world,” commented one tutor. “One that we are privileged to nurture.”

  She would acknowledge the remark with a wry smile, saying, “Hmm, we’ll see.”

  Brenda showed interest in Lucy’s work for a time but never praised her. It was as if she didn’t know how to express love.

  When Lucy’s music teacher first alerted her to the incredible talent of her child, Brenda threw dollars at providing the best instruments, set up a music room at home and employed Ken Farmer as her mentor. The man was in raptures at Lucy’s ability to handle her cello and the ease with which she mastered the pianoforte. He felt his prodigy could skilfully handle any musical instrument that came her way.

  Molly wiped a tear from her eye and continued with her thoughts:

  And here we are, mother and daughter at loggerheads, not for the first time, and me, piggy-in-the-middle. As much as I’d like to shake sense into Brenda, I can’t get involved. Her only child is moving further from her emotionally. I wish she would see how talented her child is, but she won’t hear tell of Lucy following her musical dream. The kid hates the idea of a business career. It will all end in tears, I can see it coming, as sure as my name’s Molly Kelly. To crown it all, the child wants to know about her father. I knew that would happen before too long. Her mother needs to tell her. Lucy has a right to know… but then… that’s just my opinion…

  Nora, returning home from a shopping expedition, found her mother attacking her chores with a fury, which she knew signalled trouble.

  “What’s wrong
, mom?” she said, hugging the older woman.

  “Oh, the usual! Lucy’s upset and I’ve made things worse. She asked me who her father was and, of course, I couldn’t reveal that now, could I?”

  “No, mom, you’re right. We made a promise and we have to keep to it, whether we like it or not. Where is Lucy?”

  “She took off to her music room. Best leave her alone for a bit. She calms down once she picks up that cello. I don’t think she’ll come down for supper; you can take something up and she’ll talk to you.”

  Nora, using the pretext of wanting to show Lucy her purchases, chatted with the distressed child until calmness was restored.

  “Wish you were my real sister,” said Lucy as she ate supper in her room, with Nora fussing around her, “and your mom was my mom. I hate my mother at times.”

  “Lucy, you will always be like my real sister and we will be friends for life. You’re so lucky that your mother is rich; you’ll want for nothing. I’ll always be an employee and have to work for a living.”

  “I would trade places with you any day, Nora. I won’t ever call her anything but ‘mother’, never mom. At times I think she doesn’t even like me; she has little time to spare from that damn business…”

  Nora became silent, knowing how right Lucy was. Later that evening, she sat in silence in her apartment, thinking how lucky she was to be so loved.

  Sure, Lucy has everything she will ever need materially, her financial future is secure, but I hate to see her so sad, crying out for her mother to acknowledge her talent, to acknowledge her existence even.

  Her thoughts drifted to when Lucy was born, enriching the Mears household, and she, Nora, becoming an honorary elder sister to the cute baby, helping with her early care, revelling in her development and conscious that the child’s mother spent less and less time with her daughter, relinquishing more and more care to the staff. “Let me know if she needs anything,” was the usual utterance, as she rushed off to yet another meeting.

  Too busy to care, missed the special moments, thought Nora as she remembered the precise moment when she and Brenda ceased being close friends and became employee and employer.