A Gift for Philomena

by Dara Girard

  A Gift for Philomena

  Dara Girard

  © 2011 Dara Girard

  Published by Ilori Press Books LLC

  Cover by Kimberly Van Meter

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written consent of the copyright holder.

  A Gift for Philomena is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.

  ***

  She’d never escape the kitchen--an unrelenting master that never gave her a moments rest. Philomena Hawkes wiped the sweat from her brow as the steam from the dumplings cooking on the stove filled the room. The powerful summer sun, which pressed through the window and shone on the newly polished floor, turned the small room into a domestic purgatory. The cool breath of the air conditioner couldn’t abet the stifling heat from the stove and the oven, which now felt like a fiery furnace as Philly, as she was affectionately called, opened it to check her baked trout with onions and red wine sauce.

  “Only three years,” her older brother, Gladstone, had promised when he’d come to Jamaica to visit their parents. “Come to America and stay with me for a few years while I get my business started. You can help Helen with the household duties and then when my business is set you can go out on your own. I’ll make sure that you’re settled.”

  Philly quickly agreed to the plan and Gladstone said he’d send for her in a few weeks. Four months later her ticket arrived and Philly packed her one suitcase and dreamed of her new life in America. She knew that she and her sister-in-law, Helen, could manage the house and two children aged four and seven. However, she soon discovered that Helen had little interest in domestic duties such as cleaning the house and preparing food for her children, preferring luncheons with her friends and dinner parties instead.

  “Dinners are important,” she liked to tell Philly. “So that we can socialize with the right people. It’s essential for Gladstone’s business that he’s seen in the right light.” And Philly wouldn’t have minded if her brother had been willing to hire a catering staff but he protested the expense. “I’m just starting out. Why don’t you do it? It’s only twenty people and you’re such a great cook. Everyone thinks so.”

  So, aside from her other duties, Philly catered her brother’s many dinner parties whose guest lists grew from twenty to fifty to one hundred. And as Gladstone’s business grew so did his family. Although Helen was a slender woman with delicate hands and feet, she was a remarkably fertile woman and over the next eight years five children joined the household--a girl, twin boys, another boy and another girl. They were all high spirited, bright children who paid little attention to their Aunt Philly except as a domestic hand whose duty was to clean their rooms, wash and iron their clothes and fix their meals. She was the poor relation after all, a foreigner from the island who’d been given a better life thanks to their father’s sacrifice.

  Philly took their condescending tones and dismissive glances in good grace. Her brother and his wife didn’t treat her much better so she wasn’t surprised to see it reflected in their offspring.

  But the three years of ‘helping’ slipped into ten, fifteen then twenty-five. There had been moments of envy during those intervening years as Philly saw her brother’s business flourish and lovely Helen ripe with a new child. Philly ached for a home of her own: A place where she could sit in the family room and read a good book, watch a show on a large screen TV or just bask in the glow of a setting sun on a lazy autumn evening. But any moment of sitting was usually taken up with hemming an old garment, stitching a new shirt, drafting the week’s dinner menu or calculating the expenses. She hadn’t had a moment of quiet in years—her constant routine was going to bed late and rising early in the morning. However, Philly knew she had it better than some of her relatives. Her life here was more stable than it would have been back home. She’d received only a scant education because she wasn’t bright like her brother, who’d gotten a scholarship to attend one of Jamaica’s top schools, and her parents couldn’t afford the fees for the one school she’d wished to attend. So from sixteen to eighteen she’d helped her father with his work but she still loved to learn. Sometimes, when her brother’s family was away, she’d slip into one of the kid’s room and read their textbooks amazed by the wealth of knowledge, wishing for an education of her own. That’s when the question ‘What could she have been?’ rose in her mind and created moments of discontent.

  But Philly didn’t allow herself to wonder for long, she was too busy watching her brother’s children grow and fulfill their destinies. There were high school graduations, college graduations, weddings and christenings. Slowly the house became empty and Philly thought her chance had finally arrived. The two youngest Hawkes children would soon leave the nest. One was a senior in high school and the other a freshman in college. But her brother bristled when Philly mentioned wanting to leave.

  “With still so much to do? You won’t believe the college costs I’m paying for and I’m still paying off Anita’s wedding. How can you consider leaving? At least not yet. Wait another two years. That’s all I need. Aren’t you happy here?”

  Philly only smiled, knowing her reply wouldn’t matter to him. Only cost did. She knew how much she’d saved him over the years. She saved him thousands in the cost of child care and getting a fulltime maid service like the other established families in the community. Gladstone did not like to part with his money easily and neither did his wife, who spent it freely but would never allow Philly extra pocket money to buy things.

  “We’ll give you whatever you need,” Helen said. “Just ask.” But when Philly asked for a new dress Helen offered her something she never wore or disliked from her own closet. And as the girls grew she’d give Philly their cast offs.

  Philly bore her disrespect with dignity and would have been fine with an extra two years, but then Anita’s marriage broke up and she moved back home with her two little girls and Philly saw her domestic duties extended for yet another generation. She could take the cleaning and the dusting, the vacuuming and the washing, but what she hated most was being stuck in the kitchen. She felt she’d spent half her life in the stifling room standing over a hot stove morning, noon and night cooking for a large family that didn’t care if she’d struggled with a meat that refused to cook or a pot that kept boiling over, as long as their red beans and rice or curried goat was to their liking. Nothing but the satisfaction of their appetite ever mattered. And their careless thanks were like crumbs to a field mouse, left without regard.

  Philly rested against the kitchen counter and sighed feeling old—the kitchen was her prison and the ever growing Hawkes family her captor. She pushed herself from the counter and removed the sauce from the stove, feeling a little guilty. What were a few more years anyway? She had good meals and a roof over her head. She had no marketable skills, no money of her own, or friends or relations (Gladstone was the only one of her siblings still alive—there had been two) who would want to take her in. She was completely dependent on her brother’s kindness and she believed that in two more years he would let her go.

  Philly glanced up and saw the mail carrier coming up the drive but gave him little notice--not knowing that he carried a package that would change her life.

  ***

  “A package for Aunt Philly? How can that be?” Anita, the eldest, said after she’d signed for it.

  Roger, the college freshman home for the summer, snatched it from his sister. “Let me see that.” He shook it. “I don’t hear anything rattling.”

  “Who’d want to send her anything? She doesn’t have any friends.”

  Their mother, Helen, entered the foyer and took the
package from him. “That might be but it’s still not for you to play with.” Although she schooled her features to look uninterested, she was also curious about its contents, but the name on the return label meant nothing to her. She went to the kitchen. “Philly you have something here,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Philly said in a quiet voice. “Just set it down please.”

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Roger said with impatience as he watched his mother place the mysterious package on the table.

  “I’ll get to it later, dinner’s almost ready,” Philly said her voice becoming firm.

  The idea of food, rather than her tone, took precedence over his curiosity and he left the kitchen to tell his siblings and father about the upcoming meal.

  Anita and Helen watched Philly for a long moment surprised by her disinterest then they also left with Anita saying, “She can be such a silly old woman sometimes. She doesn’t need to be so secretive. It’s probably some stupid item from a catalog.”

  But it wasn’t. Once they had all gone Philly rushed over to the package and lifted it up. She’d never received a package in her life. She looked at the name and her throat tightened as memories swept through her mind.

  “So the boy wasn’t lying,” Gladstone said bursting into the room. “I couldn’t believe it when he said you’d received something in the mail.” He snatched the package from his sister. “Let me open it for you.”

  “I don’t want to open it right now.”

  “I know you’re busy with dinner. So finish it up and leave it to me.” He pulled out a knife from a kitchen draw.

  Philly gripped her hands into fists. “If you open that package, I’ll burn every inch of your dinner.”

  Gladstone slowly looked her up and down. “You don’t mean that.”

  Philly held out her hand. “That package is addressed to me, not you and I’ll open it when I’m ready.” When he lifted the knife she said, “I’ll make sure your family starves tonight if you touch my box. And the next day there won’t be any breakfast.”

  Gladstone hesitated then tossed the package at her. “No need to be dramatic. We’ll be at the table,” he said then shoved open the door with such force that it bagged against the wall.

  Philly didn’t care. She’d won a small victory against him and she’d kept what was hers.

  That night—after she’d served dinner, then stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen—Philly hurried to her room in the attic, sat on her bed and stared at the package. “Millicent Carter,” she said reading the name of the addressee. She remembered that name from long ago. She’d met the young woman on her flight to America. Millicent was returning from a study abroad and the two women easily became companions on the flight. But once they reached Maryland things changed. Philly was to take a connecting flight to Illinois but planes had been grounded due to a snowstorm and she had no place to go. She was also woefully unprepared for the change in weather, her thin sweater no match for the winter chill. The clerk at the airline counter had said that the next available flight wouldn’t be for another three days.

  “You can stay with us,” Millicent said eager to help her new friend. “You can’t stay here for that long. When my brother comes to pick me up I’ll tell him.”

  Philly shifted feeling uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

  “It will be fun.” She looped her arms through Philly’s. “We’ll get to spend more time together.”

  “If your family agrees,” Philly said cautious.

  Millicent sent her a sly grin. “Once my brother sees you, he will.” Philly didn’t get a chance to ask her new friend about her strange statement because Millicent suddenly let out a cry of pleasure and waved. “Oh, there he is! Come on.”

  Millicent dragged Philly beside her and then stopped in front of a striking looking young man wearing a dark blue cashmere coat. He was tall with haughty features and cold eyes. Philly took a step back, certain her friend was playing a trick on her. There was no possible way this cool, reserved gentleman would allow her to stay with them. Millicent didn’t seem to notice her new friend’s unease and offered her brother a big hug then made introductions, “Wesley this is Philomena. She’s going to stay with us for the next three days.”

  His cold dark eyes measured her form and Philly felt her unease grow and she imagined spending the next three days in the airport terminal alone. When he shook his head her fears were confirmed. “No, this won’t do,” he said.

  “Yes, of course,” Philly agreed wanting to burst into tears, but determined not to. She had her dignity and she wouldn’t shame herself, although she didn’t know this country or where her next meal would come from.

  “I blame Millicent for this,” he said in a grave voice. “She should have known better.” He took off his coat and draped it over Philly then stepped back and studied her. “That’s better. We can’t have you freeze.”

  “But you can’t,” Philly said stunned by his generosity.

  “I can’t what?”

  “Give me your coat. What will you wear?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said then reached down and took her suitcase and one of his sister’s and he and Millicent walked ahead of her. Philly quickly put her arms in the coat sleeves sinking into its warmth, the smell of honey and ginger wafting towards her and let the soft feel of cashmere touch her cheek. She’d been wrong about him; his eyes weren’t cold, just serious. His face wasn’t haughty but refined. Actually, he had a very nice face.

  Millicent looked back at her. “Come on, Philly.”

  She lifted the hem of the large coat and raced after them.

  Over the next three days, Millicent introduced Philly to her beloved town of Hamsford tucked on the coast of Maryland’s Eastern Shore and its large immigrant population making Philly feel at home at the marketplace and little shops. Millicent immediately took Philly shopping for winter clothes and she and Wesley laughed at Philly’s reaction to her first sight of snow. Philly met their ailing mother and a great aunt who lived with them. Then Millicent persuaded Wesley to make Philly his signature fudge brownies and one night he treated her to scallops and fettuccine for dinner, another night he cooked red beans and rice.

  “It’s his secret dream,” Millicent said when Philly complimented Wesley on the meal. “He’s always liked to cook.”

  Wesley stared at his plate clearly embarrassed by her words. “No, it’s just a hobby of mine. I’ve never wanted to make it a profession. I have other responsibilities.” And Philly soon learned what they were. During one of the quiet moments, while they strolled in the garden enjoying the crisp winter air, the smell of smoke from a distant chimney and the call of a cardinal, Wesley shared that he was struggling to keep his father’s business afloat while also sending his sister to school and dealing with the health issues of his mother and great aunt.

  “I don’t know why I’m sharing all this with you,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I’m probably boring you to tears.” He smiled down at her. “But you’re so easy to talk to.”

  “I’m happy to listen,” Philly said basking in the light of his smile.

  He sighed then looked at the house which needed a new coat of paint and the roof replaced. “I want so much for my family, but after my father died…” He let his gaze fall. “I’m not sure I can make it all work.”

  “You will.”

  He looked at her, amused. “You sound certain.”

  “I am. You have a beautiful house,” Philly said not seeing a dwelling in need of repair but a sturdy structure that had weathered many years and was much grander than the tiny two room shack she’d left behind in Jamaica. “A family that adores you and your work. Your life has a purpose. This is the land of opportunities. Seize them. I came here to help my brother, but one day I’m going to work in an office and become an executive secretary. I type very fast and I’m very detailed. I’ll wear fine clothes and have a nice car and people will call me Ms. Hawkes.”

>   Wesley laughed.

  “You think it’s funny?”

  He shook his head. “No, I think it’s wonderful. Maybe one day I’ll be able to afford to hire you.”

  “If you ever need a secretary just ask for me, I’ll come.”

  “Is that a promise?” Wesley asked in a low voice his expression suddenly serious, his eyes searching her face.

  “Yes,” Philly said, her heart beating like the wings of a mad bird trapped in a cage. She met his dark gaze amazed that she’d ever thought his eyes were cold. “Because I believe you’ll succeed at whatever you try.”

  ***

  Too soon the three days were over. Wesley drove her to the airport and Millicent stayed behind to run some errands for her mother, but the two women hugged and exchanged addresses promising to write. Inside the airport terminal, Philly shyly told Wesley that she hoped to hear from him too and that she knew his business would grow. He bought her a small glass figurine from an airplane shop then waited with her at the boarding gate until her flight was called.

  “I won’t forget you,” he said in a rush before she stood in line to board the plane. “I have nothing to offer you now,” he said hanging his head with regret and for the first time Philly saw how young he was—that despite his reserved nature he wasn’t much older than she. “but hopefully one day I’ll be able to tell you how much I—how much you mean to me.” He then bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. To an outsider it looked like a quick, perfunctory kiss but to Philly it was like cinnamon butter melting on toast and far too soon he turned away. She licked her lips wanting to remember his taste and that moment forever.

  “Wesley?”

  He spun around and Philly rushed up to him. It was an uncharacteristic move because she wasn’t usually that forward but she had to speak. “Don’t forget if you ever need a secretary just call.”

  His face softened into a smile. “I will.”

  “And you can write me in-between,” she said desperately wanting him too, but thinking he never would.