Mercedes' Moment - Bonus chapter to be read after Mercedes' Mountain!
Mercedes' Moment
Maggie Valley, North Carolina
“Mercedes, it's me.”
“Hey, you,” I said, happy to hear my sister Evelyn's voice, but judging by her tone I knew something was wrong. “What's up?”
“It's Daddy. He's had a stroke.”
“What? When?”
“Early this morning.”
“How is he?”
She paused before answering. “Mama said you need to come. It's not good.”
“But . . . he won't want to see me.”
She sighed into the phone. “He's a stubborn old man, all right. Always has been. Regardless, you need to come. Mama wants you here. We all do.”
Releasing a sigh of my own, I finally said, “Let me talk to Ethan and I'll call you back.”
After we hung up, I moved to the screen door. The summer breeze was gentle, the skies overcast, and I could smell rain in the air. I watched my husband pushing Ivy up the driveway on her bike. We had the gravel paved over a year ago for this very reason. Now five, Ivy had bounced up and down this morning as she watched her daddy attach the training wheels on her new bike. For the past hour, they'd been out going up and down the long drive and Ivy had finally wound down.
“Good job,” I said as she got off her bike and ran to me. I gazed at Ethan and quickly drew forth a smile that I knew he would see through.
“Let's get you some cookies and milk,” Ethan said to Ivy, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. After settling her at the table, Ethan took my hand and lead me upstairs to our room. Drawing me into his arms he asked, “What's wrong?”
“Evelyn called. Daddy had a stroke.” My voice cracked. “It's not good. Mama wants me to come.”
“I'm sorry, beloved,” he murmured against my brow, his long, black hair a silky curtain against my face.
Even after all this time, I'm still amazed at Ethan's compassion for a man who wouldn't accept him or our marriage because Ethan was Cherokee Indian. My father has never gotten over his “We Black people need to stick with our own kind” mentality. I have been dead to my father since the day I called years ago to tell them I was in love with Ethan. My mother and siblings loved me unconditionally and they absolutely adored my husband from the moment they met him, and they constantly sent gifts to Ivy. They had even flown down a couple of times to see us. But Daddy hadn't budged. He was like iron, unbending. But maybe, just maybe, before he died, his heart would finally warm enough to melt through the steel bars enclosing it. It was worth a try.
“What would you like to do?” Ethan asked.
“I guess I would like to go. I mean, if there is a chance that . . .”
Ethan kissed my cheek and ran a hand down my long braid. “I'll go and make the arrangements now.”
“You will come with me, won't you? I don't think I can do this alone.”
“I'll always be by your side, Mercedes. It's my place.”
That night, Ethan and I knelt and prayed for Daddy. We prayed that he would be comforted, and that his heart would be softened toward us. I prayed for the chance to feel my father's love one more time.”
* * *
Brooklyn, New York
Despite the strain between Daddy and me, it was still hard to see him lying in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors and the oxygen tubes framing his face. He seemed so much smaller than the last time I saw him over five years ago. His eyes were closed and I didn't want to disturb his sleep, so I decided to sit and wait. I'd brought Ivy with me, hoping her presence would make him a little more civilized. Though I wanted Ethan with me, I figured it was wise to see Daddy alone first. Reluctantly, Ethan stayed at the house with Mama and my siblings. I told him I would call when I needed him.
Ivy stopped coloring in her book for a moment and looked up at me. “Mama, why does Grandpa not like me?”
I cautiously glanced over at Daddy. He was still sleeping. Keeping my voice low I answered, “Grandpa does like you. He's just needs to get to know you. I know when he does, he will love just as much as we do.”
“But why does he never come to see me with Grandma?”
I didn't know how to answer her, and it made me even sadder that I had no answer. The truth was not an option. No way would I crush my child that way. For a moment, my thoughts drifted back to the day I called my parents to tell them about Ethan and our engagement.
Mama and Daddy had accused me of being irresponsible, of turning my back on my family, my heritage, and my own kind. I remembered how Ethan had stayed by my side throughout the call, holding my hand and wiping my tears. He was hurt and angry, and that gave me comfort. I finally told my parents I would always love them, but Ethan had become my life. I said that if they couldn't accept him, they were rejecting me as well and it would be their loss. They told me not to invite them to the wedding because they wouldn't be there and my siblings wouldn't either.
My sister and brothers were always in my corner. Ethan and I eventually went to see my parents to make one last attempt with them. Mama apologized and asked our forgiveness, and we gave it gladly. Sadly, nothing changed with Daddy. To him, I no longer existed. It hurt, but I had accepted it.
Now what would I tell my child?
“Why, Mama?” she asked again.
I sighed, praying for inspiration. The answer I received was one I hadn't expected.
Tell her the truth.
Hesitantly, I said, “Well . . . you know that your mommy is Black and your daddy is Cherokee Indian, right?” She nodded her head and I continued, suddenly a little angry with my father that I was even having to have this conversation with my daughter. “The thing is, Grandpa feels that people should only marry those of their same race.”
“Why?” Ivy asked, her small voice trembling.
Heavenly Father, please help me. “I think it's because that is what his mama and daddy raised him to believe.”
“They were not nice people,” she said, tears brimming her gray eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
“Listen to me, Ivy,” I said gently, wrapping my arms around her. “Once upon a time the world was a lot different than it is now- there was a lot of hatred. And even though things have changed, some people still hold to the traditions of their fathers. What that means is some people were taught what to believe and they can't seem to think for themselves. Truthfully, it is blind ignorance that keep them that way. You know what ignorance is don't you?”
Ivy nodded. “It means they don't know any better.”
“Yes, that's what it means. Your grandpa doesn't understand how wrong it is to think the way he does, but we will just have to love him and pray for him anyway. Do you think you can do that?”
Pursing her little lips for a moment, she nodded, then folded her arms and closed her eyes.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” she said, “I know Grandpa doesn't like me very much, but I know it's not his fault because he doesn't know how to love people that don't have dark skin. Please help him to love me, God. Please help him to love Mama and Daddy, too. Please help him to know we are all the same. And please make his heart better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
I wiped the tears streaming down my face and hugged my little girl close. “That was beautiful, baby.”
“Do you think God will help Grandpa like us?”
“Well, I–”
“I'm sorry,” came my father's weak voice, startling me. I didn't realize he had been awake, and had heard everything. Holding Ivy's hand in mine, I stood and went to him. “Forgive me,” he pleaded again, his words slurred.
“I do, Daddy,” I cried softly. I lifted Ivy, setting her on the bed and his eyes moved to her. “This is your granddaughter, Ivy.”
He smiled as tears filled his eyes. “Ivy.”
She smiled. “Hi Grandpa.”
“Thank you, Ivy,” he said. “For praying for me.”
“You're welcome. Did it work? Did God fix your heart?”
Daddy looked at me and smiled. “He did, Ivy. He surely did.”
Mercedes' Moment
Maggie Valley, North Carolina
“Mercedes, it's me.”
“Hey, you,” I said, happy to hear my sister Evelyn's voice, but judging by her tone I knew something was wrong. “What's up?”
“It's Daddy. He's had a stroke.”
“What? When?”
“Early this morning.”
“How is he?”
She paused before answering. “Mama said you need to come. It's not good.”
“But . . . he won't want to see me.”
She sighed into the phone. “He's a stubborn old man, all right. Always has been. Regardless, you need to come. Mama wants you here. We all do.”
Releasing a sigh of my own, I finally said, “Let me talk to Ethan and I'll call you back.”
After we hung up, I moved to the screen door. The summer breeze was gentle, the skies overcast, and I could smell rain in the air. I watched my husband pushing Ivy up the driveway on her bike. We had the gravel paved over a year ago for this very reason. Now five, Ivy had bounced up and down this morning as she watched her daddy attach the training wheels on her new bike. For the past hour, they'd been out going up and down the long drive and Ivy had finally wound down.
“Good job,” I said as she got off her bike and ran to me. I gazed at Ethan and quickly drew forth a smile that I knew he would see through.
“Let's get you some cookies and milk,” Ethan said to Ivy, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. After settling her at the table, Ethan took my hand and lead me upstairs to our room. Drawing me into his arms he asked, “What's wrong?”
“Evelyn called. Daddy had a stroke.” My voice cracked. “It's not good. Mama wants me to come.”
“I'm sorry, beloved,” he murmured against my brow, his long, black hair a silky curtain against my face.
Even after all this time, I'm still amazed at Ethan's compassion for a man who wouldn't accept him or our marriage because Ethan was Cherokee Indian. My father has never gotten over his “We Black people need to stick with our own kind” mentality. I have been dead to my father since the day I called years ago to tell them I was in love with Ethan. My mother and siblings loved me unconditionally and they absolutely adored my husband from the moment they met him, and they constantly sent gifts to Ivy. They had even flown down a couple of times to see us. But Daddy hadn't budged. He was like iron, unbending. But maybe, just maybe, before he died, his heart would finally warm enough to melt through the steel bars enclosing it. It was worth a try.
“What would you like to do?” Ethan asked.
“I guess I would like to go. I mean, if there is a chance that . . .”
Ethan kissed my cheek and ran a hand down my long braid. “I'll go and make the arrangements now.”
“You will come with me, won't you? I don't think I can do this alone.”
“I'll always be by your side, Mercedes. It's my place.”
That night, Ethan and I knelt and prayed for Daddy. We prayed that he would be comforted, and that his heart would be softened toward us. I prayed for the chance to feel my father's love one more time.”
* * *
Brooklyn, New York
Despite the strain between Daddy and me, it was still hard to see him lying in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors and the oxygen tubes framing his face. He seemed so much smaller than the last time I saw him over five years ago. His eyes were closed and I didn't want to disturb his sleep, so I decided to sit and wait. I'd brought Ivy with me, hoping her presence would make him a little more civilized. Though I wanted Ethan with me, I figured it was wise to see Daddy alone first. Reluctantly, Ethan stayed at the house with Mama and my siblings. I told him I would call when I needed him.
Ivy stopped coloring in her book for a moment and looked up at me. “Mama, why does Grandpa not like me?”
I cautiously glanced over at Daddy. He was still sleeping. Keeping my voice low I answered, “Grandpa does like you. He's just needs to get to know you. I know when he does, he will love just as much as we do.”
“But why does he never come to see me with Grandma?”
I didn't know how to answer her, and it made me even sadder that I had no answer. The truth was not an option. No way would I crush my child that way. For a moment, my thoughts drifted back to the day I called my parents to tell them about Ethan and our engagement.
Mama and Daddy had accused me of being irresponsible, of turning my back on my family, my heritage, and my own kind. I remembered how Ethan had stayed by my side throughout the call, holding my hand and wiping my tears. He was hurt and angry, and that gave me comfort. I finally told my parents I would always love them, but Ethan had become my life. I said that if they couldn't accept him, they were rejecting me as well and it would be their loss. They told me not to invite them to the wedding because they wouldn't be there and my siblings wouldn't either.
My sister and brothers were always in my corner. Ethan and I eventually went to see my parents to make one last attempt with them. Mama apologized and asked our forgiveness, and we gave it gladly. Sadly, nothing changed with Daddy. To him, I no longer existed. It hurt, but I had accepted it.
Now what would I tell my child?
“Why, Mama?” she asked again.
I sighed, praying for inspiration. The answer I received was one I hadn't expected.
Tell her the truth.
Hesitantly, I said, “Well . . . you know that your mommy is Black and your daddy is Cherokee Indian, right?” She nodded her head and I continued, suddenly a little angry with my father that I was even having to have this conversation with my daughter. “The thing is, Grandpa feels that people should only marry those of their same race.”
“Why?” Ivy asked, her small voice trembling.
Heavenly Father, please help me. “I think it's because that is what his mama and daddy raised him to believe.”
“They were not nice people,” she said, tears brimming her gray eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
“Listen to me, Ivy,” I said gently, wrapping my arms around her. “Once upon a time the world was a lot different than it is now- there was a lot of hatred. And even though things have changed, some people still hold to the traditions of their fathers. What that means is some people were taught what to believe and they can't seem to think for themselves. Truthfully, it is blind ignorance that keep them that way. You know what ignorance is don't you?”
Ivy nodded. “It means they don't know any better.”
“Yes, that's what it means. Your grandpa doesn't understand how wrong it is to think the way he does, but we will just have to love him and pray for him anyway. Do you think you can do that?”
Pursing her little lips for a moment, she nodded, then folded her arms and closed her eyes.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” she said, “I know Grandpa doesn't like me very much, but I know it's not his fault because he doesn't know how to love people that don't have dark skin. Please help him to love me, God. Please help him to love Mama and Daddy, too. Please help him to know we are all the same. And please make his heart better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
I wiped the tears streaming down my face and hugged my little girl close. “That was beautiful, baby.”
“Do you think God will help Grandpa like us?”
“Well, I–”
“I'm sorry,” came my father's weak voice, startling me. I didn't realize he had been awake, and had heard everything. Holding Ivy's hand in mine, I stood and went to him. “Forgive me,” he pleaded again, his words slurred.
“I do, Daddy,” I cried softly. I lifted Ivy, setting her on the bed and his eyes moved to her. “This is your granddaughter, Ivy.”
He smiled as tears filled his eyes. “Ivy.”
She smiled. “Hi Grandpa.”
“Thank you, Ivy,” he said. “For praying for me.”
“You're welcome. Did it work? Did God fix your heart?”
Daddy looked at me and smiled. “He did, Ivy. He surely did.”